"Secretary Zhou made an excellent point. It isn't that criticism is forbidden, or that we should offer nothing but praise. If we truly respect the facts, we should take an objective view and fully recognize that while life has darkness and injustice, it contains far more brightness and beauty." Yao Caizhi, chairman of the Federation of Literary and Art Circles, expanded on Zhou Yi's remarks in an admiring tone.
"Spreading positive energy doesn't mean singing praises and whitewashing problems, and exposing reality and speaking for the people doesn't mean rejecting everything wholesale! When creating literary and artistic works, we must adopt the right mindset, deepen our understanding, and truly shoulder our important responsibilities as cultural workers: enlightening minds, cultivating character, and nourishing souls."
Afterward, another honorary vice chairman, Ping Fan, also joined the discussion.
Gu Qitan remained silent throughout the rest of the meeting. Only the occasional glance he cast toward the stage betrayed his defiance and sorrow.
He firmly believed that literary and artistic creation should be free.
Literature and art without freedom had lost their true soul. Even if Zhou Yi was telling the truth, and Wen Mosheng had indeed used his works to express dissatisfaction with society, that was still Wen Mosheng's freedom of speech.
What century was this? They were still persecuting people over their writing!
There was no hope here. Apparently, only by settling abroad like Wen Mosheng could he enjoy true freedom of speech, expose society's darkness without restraint, reveal the miserable lives of ordinary people suffering in desperate straits, and write great works that shook the soul.
With these thoughts running through his head, the symposium ended before he knew it.
Watching the inspection commissioner head toward the exit with everyone clustered around him, Gu Qitan happened to catch Xue Chuqing's gaze. He