Chapter 50: Adaptation of "Hachiko: A Dog's Tale" (Please Keep Reading)

As a national-level magazine, “People’s Literature and Arts” naturally never lacks submissions, but it does lack quality ones. While some editors stay in the office to review manuscripts, others travel across the country in search of authors and soliciting contributions.

The entire editorial team is ravenous for outstanding work.

This time, Liu Yimin wrote about the famous film “Hachiko,” a story well-known in Japanese cinema. Hachiko is based on a true story about an Akita dog born in Akita Prefecture in 1923. Its owner was Professor Ueno, a university scholar.

After Professor Ueno adopted Hachiko, the dog greeted him every morning as he left for work and waited at the station every evening for his return. One day, the professor suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage while teaching, but Hachiko continued to wait at the station daily.

Though adopted by several families, Hachiko always managed to escape and return to the station. Street vendors, local shopkeepers, and passersby were moved by his loyalty and began to care for him until his death.

This story became widely known after Japanese journalists from “Asahi Shimbun” reported it. In 1987, the story was adapted into a film, which touched not only Japan but the world. The film was free from political undertones and played a significant role in cultural exports, appealing even to audiences holding differing political views.

Yet, the initial Japanese promotion of Hachiko carried political implications—gratitude and loyalty!

Liu Yimin adapted “Hachiko,” replacing the protagonist, setting, and plot to better fit the current era.

His protagonist is Old Xue, a veteran returning from the battlefield. Upon learning that his hometown was establishing a forestry station to plant trees and combat sandstorms, he resolutely abandoned official arrangements and chose to dedicate himself to afforestation.

Upon leaving the train station, he discovered a small dog being chased and bitten by other larger dogs. With a kind heart, he took the puppy home and named it “Little Eight,” as it reminded him of the eighth soldier he once led.

When Old Xue announced his intention to plant trees at the forestry station, his wife was baffled. Nevertheless, he shouldered his shovel and went alone. Upon arrival, he found the station had only a dozen people, and he was to be responsible for an entire mountain.

The mountain was far from headquarters, the wooden cabin not yet built. Without complaint, Old Xue and his dog began the arduous work of forest protection and tree planting. One side of the mountain held shrubbery and sparse woods, while the other was barren sand.

He found joy amid hardship, singing military songs as Little Eight listened intently. Sometimes, when annoyed, he’d scold the dog as “Little Eight Fool.”

A year later, Old Xue’s wife joined him at the forestry station. When Old Xue didn’t return for lunch, his wife would prepare a meal and hang it around Little Eight’s neck for delivery.

After eating together, Old Xue planted trees while Little Eight patrolled the forest. If they encountered illegal loggers, Little Eight would bark fiercely, and Old Xue would rush over to protect the woods.

Three years later, to support Old Xue, the forestry station sent him a horse, giving Little Eight a new companion. One day, while Old Xue was planting trees, a fierce sandstorm buried him beneath the desert; Little Eight frantically dug him out.

Old Xue stroked Little Eight's head affectionately, promising never to call him “Little Eight Fool” again.

Until one day, Old Xue collapsed on the path as he was planting trees. The organization held a memorial for him, and his son took his wife home.

On the day they left, Old Xue’s wife searched everywhere for Little Eight, thinking he had disappeared.

In truth, Little Eight was still, as always, patrolling the forest among the bushes and sparse trees. After hearing of Old Xue’s passing, locals no longer cut trees, and Little Eight no longer had to defend the mountain.

Months later, a new team of forestry students arrived—energetic and skilled. During their patrols, they found Little Eight still faithfully guarding the woods.

Familiar with Little Eight’s story, these young people would bring him food as they planted, but no matter what they did, Little Eight refused to grow close to them.

When the students were chased by wild animals, Little Eight bravely fought to protect them, ultimately dying from blood loss.

Before his death, Little Eight gazed toward the cabin. The young students had already run back, and in a haze, he saw Old Xue approaching with his luggage, recalling the words Old Xue used to say while planting trees:

“Little Eight, have you been slacking off while guarding the forest?”

Liu Yimin briefly recounted the story to Cui Daoyi, who, upon hearing it, had tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes, though he concealed them naturally.

“A truly moving story, Yimin. I’ve read all kinds of manuscripts, but few bring me to tears. I believe this novel will touch every reader’s heart,” Cui Daoyi said, patting Liu Yimin’s hand resting on his knee.

Liu Yimin thought to himself, I want to move the entire world.

His adaptation was not merely about Old Xue and Little Eight; he sought to convey the modern Chinese emphasis on responsibility, the spirit of fearlessness and selflessness, as well as China's contributions to environmental protection.

Cultural products—books, films, and the like—are the main vessels for cultural export and the most accessible forms of international outreach. Love and loyalty readily evoke emotional resonance.

In the 21st century, environmental protection has garnered increasing attention. Foreign countries often accuse China of environmental harm; Liu Yimin hopes this book will show China’s efforts in environmental protection and break free from the constraints of Western narratives.

“This article must go to ‘People’s Literature and Arts’!” Cui Daoyi insisted, as if he would not leave unless Liu Yimin agreed.

“Senior, alright, I promise you, I’ll give it to you as soon as I finish writing it!”

“Then it’s settled! You haven’t much to do at ‘Poetry Journal,’ why not visit ‘People’s Literature and Arts’ for a while?” Cui Daoyi seized the opportunity to invite him.

“Senior, another day perhaps. Comrade Zou Huofan has invited me to sit at ‘Poetry Journal’?” Liu Yimin hesitated.

“Fine, but your focus should remain on novel writing. Novels better reflect our authors’ ideas and allow us to fully realize our vision.” Cui Daoyi worried that Liu Yimin’s poetry might delay his novel work.

Outside, Zou Huofan’s voice rang out: “Old Cui, I’ve never spoken ill of ‘People’s Literature and Arts’!”

“What do you mean ‘People’s Literature and Arts’? We’re all under the Writers’ Association—one family. Old Zou, I haven’t even mentioned you. Not very forthright, are you? You concealed Yimin’s arrival in Yanjing like hiding a beauty in a golden chamber.”

Zou Huofan retorted, “I concealed it? If I hadn’t, you would’ve found out anyway. If it weren’t for my secrecy, the other magazines would’ve come long ago—would you have had your chance?”

Dear readers, please vote for the monthly ticket! Watching movies and reading books always makes me cry, and writing this moved me to tears as well.

Tomorrow’s follow-up is crucial to recommendations. I hope you’ll keep reading—thank you!