Chapter 1: Dreams of Spring and Fallen Petals 韶華勝極 Sec 1

Section 1: Peach Blossoms

【桃花】

Peach Blossoms are incredibly difficult to draw. It is not their shape nor their colours which are difficult to capture, but a certain peacefulness, an air of calmness and simplicity. My hometown is filled with all kinds of flowers. Farm fields with canola flowers and soybean flowers, mountains with red azaleas often picked by woodcutters and passersby, bamboo fences intricately intertwined with hibiscus flowers and willow trees, even windowsills are covered in potted flowers. There are two types of flowers in the world, the ones which stand quietly outside the banal vulgarity of everyday life, and the common, restrained and taken for granted, only to be picked and torn apart for a specific purpose. The lady next-door, A’huang (阿黃), had the latter. She grew garden balsam on the small dyke in the back garden and would pluck their petals and grind them down into nail polish. None of the flowers compared to the subtle tranquility of peach blossoms. Near my home, next to the well, stood the only peach blossom tree in the village. It was left to grow in peace and would bloom the most vibrant and vivid flowers, transcending the ordinary standing alone; pure, peaceful and quiet. In a lot of ways my childhood and peach blossoms are similar. We both share a misunderstood simplicity and peacefulness.

桃花難畫，因要畫得它靜。我鄉下映山紅花是樵夫擔上帶着有，菜花豆花是在畈里，人家卻不種花，有也只是籬笆上的槿柳樹花，與樓窗口屋瓦上的盆栽也會開花，但都不當它是花。鄰家阿黃姊姊在後院短牆上種有一盆芷草花，亦惟說是可以染指甲。這不當花是花，人亦不是看花賞花人，真是人與花皆好。桃花是村中惟井頭有一株，春事爛漫到難收難管，亦依然簡靜，如同我的小時候。

When I was a child, every spring, the Tupu Temple’s attendant (who’s usual duties included attending to the incense and candles) would go around the village, door-to-door, asking for one sheng (升) of rice.[1] In exchange, the attendant would give each donating family a red wood block painting to paste on their door. The wood block painting was intricately illustrated. In the center, Tupu Temple’s symbol: the jade sceptre bearing King sitting on the throne, adorned in the traditional mian (冕) with precious jade tassels hanging from the front.[2] To either side, the characters ‘may the wind and rain be propitious, may the country prosper, and the people enjoy peace’ 風調雨順，國泰民安were inscribed. To the top of the piece was the name of the temple, and to the bottom was our town and house: Region 22. Lower North Administrative Division. There was additional space at the bottom to fill in the almsgiver’s details—under Lower North Administrative Division the attendant wrote Hu Village (胡村), and under donator he filled in ‘Mrs Wu (吳) from the House of Hu (胡)’.[3] I miss the days of peace and stability, when families would paste good wishes and seasonal greetings on their doors, rather than the menpai system of today.[4]

[1] Sheng is a traditional unit of measurement in China equivalent to about a litre. Although the exact volume of ‘one sheng’ has changed throughout time, leading many scholars to refer to sheng as the ‘Chinese litre’. Zhu Ruixi, Zhang Bangwei, Liu Fusheng, Cai Chongbang, and Wang Zengyu, A Social History of Middle-Period China’ (Cambridge University Press, 2016), 129. — Trans.

[2] In ancient China, men of highest nobility were also known as jade sceptre bearers or Zhigui (執珪), they would don a traditional rectangular crown known as the mian (冕). Yuri Pines, “Chu Identity as seen from its Manuscripts: A Reevaluation,” Journal of Chinese History 2, no. 1 (2018): 1–26. Griet Vankeerberghen, “Rulership and Kinship: The ‘Shangshu Dazhuan’s’ Discourse on Lords,” Oriens Extremus 46, (2007): 84. — Trans.

[3] Hu Lancheng is not explicit about whether it was his mother or the temple attendant which filled out her family details. Early 20^th Century China had low levels of literacy, especially amongst women. It is more likely that the almsgiver wrote in the details. Paul J Bailey, Gender and education in China: gender discourses and women’s schooling in the early twentieth century (Abingdon: Routledge, 2007), 172. — Trans.

[4] In 1937, Jiang Kai-shek (蔣介石) and the Kuomintang government (國民黨) introduced a policy known as the “Baojia system” (baojia zhidu保甲制度) whereby families were forced to place address plates outside their homes specifying the number of inhabitants, names, ages, marital status etc. Here, Hu Lancheng compares the peace and stability of his childhood, with the instability of his time. Mo Tian, “The Baojia System as Institutional Control in Manchukuo under Japanese Rule (1932-45),” Journal of the Economic & Social History of the Orient 59, no.4 (2016): 531–554. See also: Christian Daniels and Jianxiong Ma, The Transformation of Yunnan in Ming China: From the Dali Kingdom to Imperial Province(Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, 2020): “Bureaucrats assigned each household a house number (menpai 門牌) irrespective of status wealth and recorded number of the household members, the amount of normal harvest…”  — Trans.

小時候，我鄉下每年春天，嶀浦廟的廟祝來挨戶募米一升，給一張紅紙貼在門上，木刻墨印，當中畫的嶀浦大王，冕旒執珪而坐，兩邊兩行小字，風調雨順，國泰民安，上橫頭印的廟名，下橫頭印的嵊縣廿二都下北鄉檀越。我家是下北鄉之下填寫胡村，檀越之下填寫胡門吳氏，即我的母親。這其實歲月安穩，比現在的貼門牌來得無事。

The people of Hu Village (胡村) are all surnamed Hu (胡). There is a tale from the Ming Dynasty about our ancestor. He was a cattle trader and during a long drought, while walking through the farms he accidently dropped some kindling on the ground setting fire to the rice fields. To atone for his wrong-doing and compensate the villagers, he gave them his entire herd. Incredibly, not long after, the spring rain arrived and grain seedlings began to sprout, bringing about years of good harvest. The villagers accredited such fortune to him, and he was able to start a family and settle down happily. I love this story as it represents the changing fortunes of life, and the importance of goodwill, good nature, and a little bit of good luck. Another was Confucian Classics teacher Hu Yuan (胡瑗). He was the descendant of the Huxiang Confucian school of thought (湖湘學派) founding father Hu Hong (胡宏).[1] Hu Hong was also known as Wufeng (五峰) and in honour of the exceptional scholar, Hu Yuan called his house ‘The Great Hall of Wufeng’. There was also the Ming Dynasty General Hu Dahai (胡大海), although his name is common and less deserving of mention. Perhaps the greatest Hu ancestor was the public official Hu Quan (胡銓). During the Song Dynasty, Hu Quan was a government official and adviser to the Emperor. When the neighboring Kingdom of Jin sent an envoy asking for peace between the two regions, Hu Quan suspected treachery and warned the Emperor against trusting Jin. The Emperor along with Chancellor Qin Hui (秦檜) disagreed. Imploring them to see reason, Hu Quan wrote a written letter to the Emperor exposing the phony peace deal and the true intentions of Jin. Eventually, word of the letter reached the Kingdom of Jin. Desperate to read the contents of the letter, the people of Jin paid one thousand pieces of gold for a copy.[2] Today, atop our ancestral temple, is a large plaque with the characters ‘奏議千金’ representing ‘Emperor’s letter: words worth their weight in gold’ in honour of Hu Quan. Of course, although her surname was not Hu, I also love the yuefu poem ‘Yu Lin Lang’ (羽林郎) about the famous beauty Hu Ji (胡姬).[3] The poem beautifully illustrates the contrasting love affairs of the sexes —‘men ardently lust for their new wives, women remember the love of their first husband for their whole lives’.   

[1] Gu Yan, 顧燕. Zhongguo jiapu tanghao 中國家譜堂號溯源 [Chinese Family Trees and Household Names]. (Beijing Book Company, 2015).— Trans.

[2] Grand Chancellor Qin Hui (秦檜) utilised the crime of literary inquisition as a tool to control politics during the Song Dynasty, he accused Hu Quan for his politically sensitive writings which were said to be inciting war between the Song and the Jin Dynasties. Charles Hartman, “The Misfortunes of Poetry Literary Inquisitions under Ch’in Kuei (1090-1155),” Chinese Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews 25, (2003): 25. — Trans.

[3] Yuefu (樂府) also known as Music Bureau Poems is a genre of Chinese poetry. Here Hu Lancheng refers to the Han Dynasty poem ‘Yu Lin Lang’ by Xin Yannian《羽林郎》辛延年. The poem is about village beauty Huji胡姬. For more information about Yuefu poetry see: Zong-qi Cai, How to Read Chinese Poetry: A Guided Anthology (Columbia University Press, 2008). —Trans.

胡村人皆姓胡，上代太公是明朝人，販牛過此，正值大旱，他遺火燒盡畈上田稻，把牛都賠了，隨即卻來了好雨，禾秧新茁，竟是大熟年成，全歸於他，他就在此安家了，我愛這故事的開頭就有些運氣。胡姓上代有胡瑗是經師，故堂名用五峰堂，猛將明朝有胡大海，但我不喜他的名字。我喜歡宋朝胡銓，金人以千金購求他彈劾秦檜的奏疏，現在祠堂里有一塊匾額「奏議千金」，即是說的他。此外我愛古樂府羽林郎里的胡姬，但是胡姬不姓胡。

Hu Village is surrounded by winding mountains and streams, split into four main regions, Nijiashan (倪家山), Lujia’ao (陸家奧), Hehuatang (荷花塘), and Daqiaotou (大橋頭). I guess, like Hu village, the people of Nijiashan and Lujia’ao were surnamed Ni (倪) and Lu (陸), however I am not sure if that is still the case. My family lived in Daqiaotou, which was connected by a stone cobbled road to the neighboring villages in the Fuzhi (覆卮) mountain region and went all the way to Fenghua District (奉化). Though the fields were narrow, they were dispersed along meandering roads, intersecting the sunlit open pastures of each village. The road eventually connected to the main road, where travelers could go as far as Sanjie Town (三界鎮), then onto Zhangzhen Town (章鎮鎮), and finally arrive at the city of Shaoxing (紹興).

胡村溪山迴環，人家分四處，倪家山，陸家奧，荷花塘，大橋頭。叫倪家山陸家奧，想是往昔住過這兩姓的人，可是現在都不知道了。我家住在大橋頭，門前一條石彈大路，里通覆卮山群村到奉化，外通三界章鎮到紹興，田畈並不寬，但人家迤邐散開，就見得平曠陽氣。

Ten li (里) away from Hu Village was the purple mountain.^[1] It is said high in the mountain, above the clouds, lies ancient treasures of the past. Folks say, amongst the treasure are almighty celestial weapons and mystical books used by famed warriors, master tacticians and even gods. According to legend, only he who is a son of god ordained by heaven was worthy of finding them.[2] Although I was young and childish, I would listen to these tales wholeheartedly believing in the spirit of kings and the greatness of warriors. I enjoyed gazing up at the mountains and imagining tales of heroism. The best way to reach the purple mountain was by taking the mountain road which hugged the famous Shanxi River (剡溪). Many poets of the past either passed by or lived near the great river, leaving countless chants and fables. Li Bai (李白) once travelled down the river as did the son of great calligrapher Wang Xizhi (王羲之).[3] The mountain adjacent to our home, Nanshan (南山), is nowhere near as great or famous, but nonetheless, occupied a special place in the heart of the village. It was quite beautiful. As kids, we would climb Nanshan and collect pine tree twigs. Every time I look upon the radiant sun it reminds me of the golden roosters which would occasionally perch themselves on the hillside, freely roaming amongst the pine trees followed by mother hens leading their chicks along the mountain path. It is true, like the tales of purple mountain, you can find all kinds of hidden treasures if you look hard enough. Our people have a the saying juecang (掘藏), which comes from the Shaoxing Opera and describes being as happy as digging up the treasure others buried in the ground. It is a saying about being naturally fortuitous — certainly more tangible than the Indian ten boundless treasuries of a bodhisattva^[4] —and means regardless of whether you happen to dig up precious gold and silver yuanbao (元寶), or catch yourself a golden rooster it is propitious.^[5]

[1] In the Han Dynasty (206 BC–220 AD), tax collectors, merchants, farmers, and townsmen required the establishment of a standard set of weights and measures that was universally operative and which they could trust. Today, one li (里) is equivalent to 0.5 kilometers, although the exact distance has changed overtime. Michael Loewe, The Problems of Han Administration: Ancestral Rites, Weights and Measures, and the Means of Protest (Boston: Brill, 2016), 145. — Trans.

[2] The original text refers to Bingshu 兵書 which incapsulates many historical Chinese books on war, weaponry, and tactics. The most famous in Western culture is Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. Here, Hu Lancheng is referring to precious books of war and tactics more generally rather than specific scholarly books. For information on Bingshu 兵書 see: Endymion Porter Wilkinson, Chinese History: A Manual (Harvard-Yenching Institute: Harvard University Asia Center, 2000), 555. —Trans.

[3] The original Chinese texts refers specifically to the short story by Liu Yuqing Visiting Dai on a Snowy Night (王子猷雪夜訪戴). The story depicts Wang Huizhi crossing the Shanxi River to visit his friend Dai Andao on a cold snowy night. The short story is beautifully translated in Richard B. Mather, Shih-Shuo Hsin-Yü. A New Account of Tales of the World (University of Michigan Press, 2002), 419. —Trans.

[4] The term 十無盡藏 is often translated as the ‘ten boundless treasuries of bodhisattva’. These include信 belief and faith, 戒 the commandments, 慚 shame of past misdeeds; 愧blushing over the misdeeds of others etc. William Edward Soothill and Lewis Hodous, A Dictionary of Chinese Buddhist Terms: With Sanskrit and English Equivalents and a Sanskrit-Pali Index (London: Routledge, 2004) —Trans.

[5] Yuanbao (元寶) or Sycee was a type of gold or silver ingot currency used in imperial China. In China today, gold sycees are a symbol of wealth, good fortune, and prosperity. Thierry François and Joe Cribb, “A Catalogue of Sycee in the British Museum, Chinese Silver Currency Ingots с 1750-1933” Revue numismatique 6, no.36 (1994): 364-368. — Trans.

胡村出來十里，有紫大山，傳說山上有兵書寶劍，要真命天子纔能取得，我雖幼小無知，聽了亦覺天下世界真有王氣與兵氣。紫大山我只望望見，去要隔條江，這江水即剡溪，晉人王子猷訪戴安道來過，李太白亦來過。我家門前的山沒有這樣大，只叫南山，則我去拾過松枝。每見日色如金，就要想起人說有金雞在那山腰松樹下遨遊，是一隻母雞領了一群小雞。紹興戲裡有掘藏，比印度的無盡藏菩薩更世俗，掘出的金元寶銀元寶或捉得金雞，皆只是人的好運氣。

Ten li into Hu Village one will find Xiawang Village (下王村). It was home to the local ‘moneybags’ and probably one of the richest families in the region. They were known for their decadence. When building their house, they went to extraordinary lengths to ensure every detail was exquisite, assigning an individual worker to mould every brick, and paying three hundred days’ worth of labour to carve a single bed. Today, they are not as wealthy as previous generations, however they travel in horse and cart all the same. It is true that family fortune does not last forever, just like the tale of the rice dragon. It was said that —unbeknown to the farmer — a dragon dwelled in the barn. During this time, the yearly harvests were bountiful and grain stocks were overflowing. The farmer, while rummaging around in the grain stocks, struck the pile of grain with his rake and injured the dragon hidden within. Once revealed, the injured dragon disappeared from the barn and never returned. Forthwith, the farmer’s years of good harvest and plentiful grain were no more. I visited Xiawang a couple of times before, there was a sense of completeness I had come to expect from people who lived near Xishan (溪山); they were without want. I remember watching the joining of families in the wedding ceremonies, the bridal parties that would stroll merrily down the cobbled street carrying the bridal dowry, and of course, the lavish young ladies that would all come out to watch the pomp and circumstance. In that moment of celebration, it was difficult not to get intoxicated by the romantic realisation that our world is not as impoverished as it may seem.  

胡村進去十里有下王村，下王出財主人家，雕刻一張床費三百工，起屋一塊磚要一工，子孫稍稍不如從前了，亦人進人出仍騎馬坐轎。傳說一家有榖龍，倉里穀子會只管溢出來，其後因用釘鈀開榖傷了龍，遂龍去榖淺。下王我去過，那裡的溪山人家果然齊整。下王人家做親，嫁妝路上抬過，沿村的女子都出來看，雖是他人有慶，這世上亦就不是貧薄的了。

If you continued walking past Xiawang Village, about thirty li down the road, you would reach Lutian Village (蘆田村). It sits in the mountainous area and forms part of the famous Siming Mountain (四明山). Not dissimilar to Xiawang, the people of Lutian were traditionally very wealthy — thanks in kind to the abundance of bamboo, wood, mulberry trees and tea which grew in the region. One of those wealthy families were our relatives. Lutian Village was also home to the Wang (王) family and their beautiful daughter Xinghua (杏花). Xinghua studied in Hangzhou (杭州) and would sometimes pass by our cottage carried on a sedan chair.^[1] When the bearers would rest by the roadside luting (路亭),^[2] she would take a break inside, sitting daintily on one of the shaded benches. During these precious moments, my heart would skip a beat when I saw her. Her make-up and flowing dress; my young and immature self was in love. It was not just me of course. Everyone in Hu Village who managed to catch a glimpse of Xinghua seemed to take a liking to her. Although, it was not her beauty which captivated their interest, nor a sense of jealousy or the feelings of romance, rather the subconscious realisation of social class. The realisation that Xinghua’s wealth and status were so close yet so far away from the humble people of Hu Village. It is true that no matter where you are in the world, only some will be lucky enough to enjoy wealthy and luxurious lifestyles — just like how not far from the simple and level farmland are beautiful peach blossom forests.

[1] Sedan chairs or Litters were a popular mode of transport amongst China’s richer classes. They were for one or two passengers, consisting of a large box carried on two horizontal poles by four or six bearers. Zhi Dao, History of Transportation in China (Deeplogic, 2019), 129. — Trans.

[2] Luting is a kind of roadside pavilion and is one of the traditional Chinese wooden monolithic buildings. The pavilion is built with a roof and often has benches inside for villagers to rest in the shade. For more information see: Ronald G. Knapp, Chinese Bridges: Living Architecture From China’s Past (Tuttle Publishing, 2012), 232: “Analogous to roadside pavilions called lu ting – some square, others rectangular, but all distinct – that provide resting opportunities for the villagers.” — Trans.

下王再進去三十里是蘆田村，在山岡上，那裡已是四明山，因有竹木桑茶之饒，亦出財主人家，那家與我家倒是親戚。蘆田王家的小姐名叫杏花，她到杭州讀書，轎子經過我家門前大路上，在路亭里歇下，我那時幼小，只會看看她，大家女子新打扮，我亦心裡愛意。不止我如此，凡是胡村人看着她皆有這種歡喜，竟是階級意識全無，他們倒亦並非羨慕或起浪漫想頭，卻因世上何處有富貴榮華，只好比平疇遠畈有桃花林。

Around the time of the Taiping Rebellion (太平軍1851 to 1864) Hu village flourished.[1] This was largely due to the highly profitable foreign export of silk, tea, and tung oil (桐油).^[2] As a result, the people of Hu Village started cultivating silk, planting tea, and operating oil carts for the transport and manufacture of Tung oil. The wealth of our forefathers is evidenced in the elaborate memorial grounds where they are buried. Generations past and present, have continually visited the resting places of those who have gone before them, making offerings to the gods, and showing their respects. Nowadays, the opulent remnants of the past can be found all around Hu Village. The whitewashed walls of tile-roofed cottages, and the beautiful Taimen (台門) buildings of Nijiashan and Lujia’ao village, stood like beacons of a more prosperous time.[3] Attached to each family Taimen were impressive ancestral courtyards. These ancestral courtyards or zhongjiatangqian (眾家堂前) were especially important fixtures in our village, the ancestral hall a place of solace, where people would go to worship their ancestors.

My paternal grandfather started running a teashop and bought a tea twisting machine to knead the tea leaves. At that time, a jin (斤) of pork cost twenty brass wen (文),^[4] and our family coffers were swelling to the point of matching that of the local quartermaster (司務) who would spend around a thousand wen on food per day.[5] These bustling and energetic ways of life have reawakened in recent times. In fact, it was the generous donations of my grandfather that led to the construction of Hu Village’s main bridge. His contribution is immortalised on the bridge pavilion, where a stone tablet still stands today. On the tablet the characters ‘In honour of Mr Hu Zaiyuan’ 胡載元 are inscribed at the top, with the other donators’ names carved below. When I was young, my older cousin, Brother Meixiang (梅香) told me all about how the bridge was built. He told me that regardless of whether workers were putting up the wooden beams, or building the bridge piers, they would always take advantage of auspicious times of the day. Often before light, the mountains and rivers were lit up with lanterns as the shadows of workers flickered in the darkness. Brother Meixiang said that sometimes the workers would light firecrackers as lucky offerings to the gods, and one day all one hundred workers were granted ample food and drink. These wonderful tales of firecrackers and food from the gods probably explains why I have always taken an interest in the craft of workers. They have always carried with them a certain aura of auspiciousness.

[1] Thomas H. Reilly, The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom: Rebellion and the Blasphemy of Empire (London: University of Washington Press, 2004), 3. “Over the thirteen-year course of the insurrection, from 1851 to 1864, twenty million people lost their lives, and Qing imperial and Taiping rebel armies fought in and over almost every province of the Chinese empire.” — Trans.

[2] Despite Hu village’s ‘flourishing’ during the Taiping Rebellion, the Chinese economy was severely damaged in the 1850s and 1860s. However, tea and silk were consistently the most important commodity and accounted for 50% of China’s exports before 1895. Furthermore, the price of tung oil continued to rise, accounting for over 10% of China’s foreign exports by 1936. Tim Wight, The Chinese Economy in the Early Twentieth Century (London: MacMillan Press. 1992), 130-131. — Trans.

[3] Taimen (台門) are traditional courtyard dwellings found in Shaoxing near the home of Hu Lancheng. They are famous in China for their intricate design and architecture. Yang Ningfei, 楊寧飛. “Shaoxing Taimen jianzhu xiaji qushu jieneng jishu jiexi” 紹興台門建築夏季祛暑節能技術解析.” 建築節能 [Summer Heat Energy-saving Technology for Shaoxing Taimen Buildings] Construction Conserves Energy 1, (2013): 65-66.— Trans.

[4] Wen (文) are round coins with square centre holes, ranging in diameter from approximately 19 mm to 28 mm. Coins developed in China about 2,600 years ago, and a multitude of Chinese words have been used over the millennia to refer to various types of coins. In southern China during the 19th century and early 20^th century the most common word for the lowest-denomination brass coins, was wen. Marjorie Kleiger Akin, “The Noncurrency Function of Chinese ‘Wen’ in America.” Historical Archaeology 26, no.2 (1992): 58–65, 58. — Trans.

[5] In the Qing Dynasty the quartermaster was in charge of military lodgings and food expenses. Usually the soldiers would give part of their wages to the quartermaster and the quartermaster would organise the food supply. Joanna,Waley-Cohen, The Culture of War in China: Empire and the Military under the Qing Dynasty (London: IB Tauris Publishers, 2006), 95. — Trans.

胡村是太平軍前後興旺過，彼時絲茶桐油輸出外洋大盛，胡村份份人家養蠶採茶，還開設油車打桐油，所以上代太公多有塋田，子孫春秋祭祀不絕，且至今村裡粉牆瓦屋，總算象樣，還有倪家山的上台門與陸家奧的下台門，都是上代建造的大院落，稱為眾家堂前。我祖父手裡開茶機，彼時豬肉一斤廿文，我家賬房間及老司務的福食每天用到一千文，這種世俗的熱鬧至今猶覺如新。胡村的大橋即是我祖父領頭捐款建造的，橋頭路亭里有石碑，上刊着胡載元，底下還有一排姓名。凡起屋上樑，造橋打橋腳，皆要踏正吉時辰，往往天還未亮，燈籠溪山人影，祭告天地的爆仗，散給百工的酒食，都是祥瑞。我小時聽堂房哥哥梅香講起這些，大起來所以對現代工業亦另有一番好意思。

Not long after, the steady waves of the booming export of silk, tea and tung oil, the market turned stormy and turbulent. Although we were luckier than others. The farmers who lived near Xiayan (下沿) river had their land completely washed away. The region had enjoyed around eighty years of business and the people had grown optimistic and hopeful, and with that came dreams of a better life, a life outside the village walls. This would mark the beginning of Hu village’s downfall.

其後絲茶桐油外銷起了風浪，胡村亦衰敗下來，但胡村人比下沿江務農人的泥土氣另有一種洒脫，因為經過約八十年的工商業，至今溪山猶覺豁達明亮，令人想着外面有天下世界。

The people of Hu Village were skilled orators and storytellers. Meixiang was amongst the best, and then of course there was my older brother Mengsheng (夢生). Mengsheng told stories eloquently and theatrically like he was performing lines from the great Xiwen plays (戲文).[1] When we were young, he took me down to the fields adjacent to the river and told me the story of the five people who wanted to cross the river by ferryboat. Amongst them were four men: a scholar (士), a farmer (農), a craftsman (工), a merchant (商), as well as a young woman.[2] There was only one seat in the ferryboat so they had a battle of wits to decide who deserved to sit. I can only remember what the merchant and young woman said.

The Merchant spoke first:

‘Without the wood (木) the character is cai (才),

  Add the wood (木) and the character is cai (材),

  Take away the wood (木), add money (貝),

  And the character is cai (財).’ 

The merchant with the money is loved by all,

Let me sit, time lest we stall.

The young woman responded:

            ‘Without the wood (木) the character is qiao (喬),

            Add the wood (木) and the character is qiao (橋),

            Take away the wood, add a young lady (女),

            And the character is jiao (嬌)

The beautiful young woman is loved by all,

            Let me sit, time lest we stall.

In the end, the farmer won the seat. In addition to the parts about the rich merchant and beautiful lady being loved by all, the onlookers were all pleased with the contest. The display of verbal prowess and witty terms of endearment reflected the true spirt of the people.

[1] Xiwen is a type of play popularised in the last Southern Song Dynasty (1127 – 1279).  The plays were characterised by a full narrative and story which was performed through speech and song. The style re-emerged in China during the Yuan and Ming Dynasties. The most famous Xiwen today is the Story of Pipa (琵琶記). Jin Fu, Chinese Theatre (Cambridge University Press, 2012), 16. — Trans.

[2] The four men reflect the four occupations in ancient china, which are commonly understood in terms of ancient social class. The Simin (四民) or four classes of ancient china were split into gentry scholars, peasant farmers, artisans and craftsmen, and merchants and traders. Victor Cunrui Xiong, “The Four Groups (Simin 四民) and Farmer-Merchant Antithesis in Early Imperial China,” Chinese Historians 8, no.1-2 (1995): 86.  — Trans.

所以胡村人又會說又會講，梅香哥哥即講故事一等，還有我的四哥哥夢生亦戲文熟通講。四哥哥帶我到畈里，講給我聽有五個人下渡船，士農工商俱全，外加一女子，但渡船里只有一個座位，就大家比口才，贏的得坐，我今只記得商人的與女子的，那商人道、

無木也是才，有木也是材，去了木，加上貝，是錢財的財，錢財人人愛，我先坐下來。

輪到女子，女子道、

無木也是喬，有木也是橋，去了木，加上女，是嬌娘的嬌，嬌娘人人愛，我先坐下來。

後來卻還是那務農人得勝。而除了錢財人人愛，嬌娘人人愛之外，我想就是民間的這種沾沾自喜，鬥智逞能的可愛了。

The houses in Hu Village were all built on solid foundations, as the rivers and mountains brought good fengshui (風水). Peter Kropotkin (1842 – 1921) in his work Fields, Factories, and Workshops advocated for the decentralisation of industry, the possibility of agriculture, the power of small industrial villages as well as the important distinction between brain work and manual work.[1] He endorsed decentralisation, and the disbursement of the people from overpopulated cities to rural farmlands. Unlike the Russian scholar’s observations, villages in China have always resonated with the people and occupied an important part of Chinese life — the cities are harmonious, peaceful, and stable. Hu Village is not a stereotypical ‘village’, just as Shaoxing (紹興) and Suzhou (蘇州) are not stereotypical ‘industrial cities’. They are characterised by old town alleyways and traditional courtyard residences, not dissimilar to the Hutong (衚衕) found in Beijing. They are different to European cities, as they encompass a beautiful blend of tradition in a way which was both impressive, natural, and unrestrained. Like Shaoxing and Suzhou, Shanghai is another charming city. After the trading port was opened, foreigners rushed in, hastily building houses resembling toy models. Although Shanghai was modernising, it retained its traditional charm and scenic beauty. This was especially true in Hangzhou where one could walk down the bustling Huansha Road (浣紗路); there the West Lake meets the city creating a stunning amalgamation of history and modernity.

The places of human civilisation have always been crucial to our existence. One of the greatest cities was the ancient capital of Jinling (金陵).[2] The Six Dynasty (220 – 589) capital is known for the poised tigers which dwell in the Zhongshan (鐘山) mountain to the south-east, and the coiled dragon which occupies the Yangtze river to the west. No matter whether it is the great fortresses of the past, or less imposing cities and villages of today, the people have always lived amongst the rivers and mountains. Even during the reign of First Emperor of Qin (秦始皇), the devotees of fengshuinamed Wangqi Geomancers (望氣者),[3] were able to read the energy of the land to detect that ordinary streets and alleyways were the source of the people’s prosperity and good fortune. In accordance with principles of Yin (陰), Yang (陽) and fengshui, it is said that there is always an optimum balance, in both physical and mental positioning known as a Yang Zhai (陽宅).[4] I believe the path to Yang Zhai is not through forced interpretation, nor is it through the never-ending process of personal reflection and existential discovery, but rather a state of being which can be felt through intuition. Fortune and prosperity cannot be forced; only when qi (氣) flows naturally through our bodies, with balance and stability, can our lives be blessed with fortune.[5] The concept of qi has taken on many forms and is just like the idea of Xing (興) found in the ancient Book of Songs (詩經).[6]

[1] Petr Alekseevich Kropotkin, Fields, Factories and Workshops, (Social Theory, G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1901) — Trans.

[2] Jinling (金陵) is the historical name for the city of Nanjing and was the capital of several dynasties. In Romance of the Three Kingdoms it was famously called “a dragon coiling and a tiger crouching” (龍蟠虎踞) ‘by an astute observer who could interpret the sacred lay of the land; the phrase symbolizes both the royal prerogative of the place as well as its strategic importance.’  David B. Honey, “Before Dragons Coiled and Tigers Crouched: Early Nanjing in History and Poetry.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 115, no.1 (1995): 15 — Trans.

[3] Wangqi (望氣) is a process of combining Yin (陰) and Yang (陽) as well as a number of external forces to predict an individual’s fortune. Experts in Fengshui (風水) are secretive about the exact principles and methods involved in Wangqi but it is a specialised component of Fengshui, focusing on divination and the reading of energy.  Jin Shenjia, 金身佳. Zhongguo shenmi wenhua fengshui中國神秘文化: 風水 [Chinese Mystical Culture: Fengshui] (Hunan meishu chubanshe 湖南美術出版社, 2010) — Trans.

[4] Fengshui incorporates Yin and Yang. The concept of Yang Zhai (陽宅) is the optimum balance and its often referred to as ‘sitting theory’. Michael John Paton, Five Classics of Fengshui: Chinese Spiritual Geography in Historical and Environmental Perspective (Brill: Boston, 2013): 135, ‘The site is the pivot of yin and yang and the standard for human relationships. Only the learned and illuminated worthy will be able to understand its Way…siting is the basis of human life. Man has a site for his family dwelling. If it is peaceful then the family will prosper and enjoy good fortune generation after generation. If it is not peaceful then the clan will decline and become insignificant. This is also true of the siting of graves in relation to rivers and mountain ridges.’ — Trans.

[5] Qi or Chi is an energy force which flows through nature. Fengshui aims to realise the environment and utilise the flowing energy to bring balance, harmony and good fortune.  Bonaiuto Marino, Elena Bilotta, and Angela Stolfa. “Feng Shui and Environmental Psychology: A Critical Comparison,” Journal of Architectural & Planning Research 27, no.1 (2010): 23. — Trans.

[6] The Book of Songs is also known as The Book of Poetry, Book of Odes and is sometimes translated into Shijing (詩經). It is the oldest compilation of Chinese poems, containing works dating as back as 800 – 600 B.C. For translated versions of the poems see: Arthur Waley, The Book of Songs (London: Routledge, 2005), 3. 

胡村人家的宅基好。克魯泡特金着「田園都市手工場」，想要把都市迤邐散開在農村裡，中國人家可是向來農村裡也響亮，城市裡也平穩。胡村亦不像是個農村，而紹興蘇州城裡亦閭巷風日洒然。上海樣樣好，惟房子都是開港後外國人來了倉促造起，有些像玩具模型，但如杭州，雖然成了現代都市，亦依然好風景，單那浣紗路的馬路，就新潤可人意。為人在世，住的地方亦是要緊的，不但金陵有長江龍盤，鐘山虎踞，是帝王州，便普通的城市與鄉村，亦萬姓人家皆在日月山川里。秦始皇時望氣者言東南有天子氣，大約就是這樣的尋常巷陌，閭巷人家皆有的旺氣。陽宅風水之說，我不喜他的穿鑿與執念，但亦是民間皆分明感知有旺發之氣的這個氣字，在詩經里便是所謂興。

The Book of Songs begins with ‘the lessons from the states’ and is commonly referred to as Xing-style poetry (興體詩).The idea of Xing does not exist in the western literature. It is not only a certain technique of poetic expression but also reflects feelings of prosperity, fortune, happiness, and joy. Each verse in the Book of Songs begins with a natural image, which is contrasted with the human situation around which the poem centres.[1] This is beautifully reflected in the first poem Guanju (關雎):

Guan-guan go the ospreys,
On the islet in the river.
The modest, retiring, virtuous, young lady:
For our prince a good mate she.

Here long, there short, is the duckweed,
To the left, to the right, borne about by the current.
The modest, retiring, virtuous, young lady:
Waking and sleeping, he sought her.[2]

No matter where you go in China, all of the people have held onto these ancient songs; forming today’s children’s folk rhymes as well as the traditional Xiaodiao (小調).[3] Foreign countries tend only to have nursery rhymes and popular songs, whereas China’s culture of song and poetry is completely unique.

[1] Zheng Zhiqiang, 鄭志強. “Shijing: xingti shi zongkao” 《詩經》興體詩綜考 [A Comprehensive Study of Xing-Style Poems in the Book of Songs], 浙江社會科學 Zhejiang Social Sciences, (2008): 99-105. — Trans.

[2] James Legge, The Book of Poetry: Chinese Text with English Translation (Shanghai: Chinese Book Co, 1931). — Trans.

[3] Xiaodiao are a specific kind of genre of Chinese folk song. For more information see: Li Huan, “ “Dirty Theatre” and Reform Before and After 1949 in Hunan Province, China,” Asian Musicology 16, (2010): 94: The majority of the xiaodiao… originated from folk songs popular in the provinces of Zhejiang and Jiangsu since the Ming Dynasty (1328-1644). Historically, xiaodiao were also despised because they were often sung in brothels and teahouses and were especially associated with flirtations and sensualities between merchants and prostitutes. Thus, both tune types were considered as low class because of their folk origins. — Trans.

詩經以國風居首，而國風多是興體、「關關雎鳩，在河之洲」，興也，這個興字的意思西洋文學裡可是從來沒有的。而至今亦中國民間隨處有童謠與小調。外國亦有兒歌與流行歌，可是中國民間的完全兩樣。

When I was young, Mother would always wash the cups and plates after dinner. Occasionally, she would give me a big hug, wrap me in her arms, and carry me to the edge of the house eaves where we would gaze at the moon. She would call me her little prayer Baibai (拜拜), as she taught me say ‘To Mother Moon we pray, pray that next year the world will stay’. This was said in fun, rather than some lofty premonition or special omen for what was to come. At the time we muttered those words, it was still 1911 during the reign of the last emperor Xuantong (宣統) (1906-1967).[1] As expected, the world would change massively next year, bringing about the collapse of the Qing Dynasty and the beginning of the Republic of China. Mother and I continued gazing at the moon, reciting the words:

The world is large and uncanny,

Kill the old rooster and give it to Granny,

If Granny does not want it; no loss,

Guard the kitchen cupboard like a mafia boss,

The young vixen next door sneaks in and has a feast

Her mouth eats, cheerful and covered in grease,

Smacks on the bottom for the disturber of the peace.

Even though the words were a little crass, they were said in tongue and cheek, in a way which was comical and funny. It is the kind of speech used outside political circles where there is more freedom of expression and where people use speech to share joy and happiness. 

[1] The Last Emperor of China (末代皇帝) was called Puyi (溥儀) and reigned under the name Xuantong (宣統).  At the age of six, “Imperial Edict of the Abdication of the Qing Emperor” (清帝退位詔書) was signed and he was forced to abdicate. Brian Power, The Puppet Emperor: The Life of Pu Yi, Last Emperor of China (London: Peter Owen, 1986). — Trans.

我小時總是夜飯後母親洗過碗盞，纔偶而抱我一抱，抱到檐頭看月亮，母親叫我拜拜，學念、「月亮婆婆的的拜，拜到明年有世界」，這真是沒有名目的大志，那時還是宣統，而明年果然有了民國世界。可是念下去、「世界大，殺只老雄雞，請請外婆吃，外婆勿要吃，戒櫥角頭抗抗咚，隔壁婆娘偷偷吃咚哉，嘴巴吃得油羅羅，屁股打得阿唷唷。」卻又世俗得滑稽可笑，而從來打江山亦果然皆是這樣現實喜樂的。

There was another time I remember with fondness. When I was around two or three years old, Mother would help me learn how to speak through rhyming word association games. She would wrap me in her arms and take me to gaze at the stars. While looking at the stars we would say:

            See one star, Gelun rises far. See two stars,

Two oil jars, oil jars leak.

Roasted beans eat, bean jelly sweet.

Spicy chili paste, paste spicy no waste.

Two otters swim, tails, birds watching prim.

            Two pigeons sing in clef, pigeons’ ears are deaf.

            Two dressmakers sew, their movements slow.

            Two wild geese shy, spread wings and fly.

            Two ants crawl, up the wall.

又兩三歲時學語，母親抱我看星，教我念、「一顆星，葛倫登，兩顆星，嫁油瓶，油瓶漏，好炒豆，豆花香，嫁辣醬，辣醬辣，嫁水獺，水獺尾巴烏，嫁鵓鴣，鵓鴣耳朵聾，嫁裁縫，裁縫手腳慢，嫁只雁，雁會飛，嫁蜉蟻，蜉蟻會爬牆」，正念到這裡，母親見了四哥罵道、「還不樓窗口去收衣裳，露水湯湯了！」現在想起來，母親罵得竟是天然妙韻。

The rhyming game we played from ‘see one star, Gelun rises far’ all the way up to ‘two ants crawl up the wall’; these words had no real correlation or special meaning. Over the last few days, I have been reading popular Pinghua (平話) stories from the Song Dynasty.[1] I particularly enjoy the tale of the beauty Qu Xiuxiu (璩秀秀) who was born into a poor family. Out of desperation, Qu Xiuxiu’s father sold her to the King of Xianan County (咸安郡王) where she was to live as a slave. The King let her serve with the jade craftsmen Cuining (崔寧). Qu Xiuxiu and Cuining fell in deeply in love and eloped. The story encapsulates themes of love and spring and references several poets who wrote about the fading of spring. The more memorable is when Wang Jinggong (王荊公) sees the wind blowing petals onto the ground:

            Spring days, spring winds,

            Sometimes Good.

Spring days, spring winds,

Sometimes Evil.     

The spring winds make the flowers bloom,

The spring winds make the petals fall.

He continued by writing how the wind and rain combine to hasten the passing of Spring. On the other hand, Su Xiaomei (蘇小妹) exclaimed that it was not the wind or the rain rather: ‘the colours of spring fade when the swallows start collecting mud to build their nests’. There will inevitably be those that disagree, but I believe it is neither wind, rain nor the swallows which signify the fading of spring. The fading of spring is elusive and subtle and no words or turn of phrase can do it justice. For instance, I could say “spring is born like the furry catkins on willow trees, and fades like flowing water”, phrase after phrase, all sharing a similar structure. In a way, it is no different to the rhyming game we would play as kids, only the Pinghua stories would have to be sung and played in a way which was musical and euphonious. Perhaps nowhere is this better illustrated than in Dream of the Red Chamber (紅樓夢) where the true account of the book’s inception is revealed when the poet says appositely:

Pages full of idle words

Penned with hot and bitter tears:

All men call the author fool;

None his secret message hears.[2]

Another example is the tale from Sima Qian’s (司馬遷) Records of the Grand Historian (史記) about Gaozu (高祖) the Great Emperor of Han (256-195 B.C.).[3] Gaozu was born in a small village in Pei County (沛縣) and rose to prominence. He left the village at a young age and went on many long crusades to establish the Han Empire; battling the rebels who continued to attack from all sides. After suppressing the rebellion of Qingbu (黥布), Gaozu led his army through Pei County where he finally returned to his hometown. There he had a mighty feast, inviting all his family and old friends. It was a jovial celebration. Once he was filled with wine, Gaozu began teaching the children to sing:   

A great wind came forth,

the clouds rose on high

Now that my might rules all within the seas,

I have returned to my old village

Where will I find brave men

to guard the four corners of my land?[4]

He continues by singing about the pain of being far away from one’s hometown, and how no matter where you go only one place is home. He sings unencumbered, remembering the songs and rhymes from his childhood; in a way, not so different from the songs and rhymes my mother and I would sing: ‘see one star, gelun rises far, see two stars, like two oil jars’.

[1] Pinghua (平話) are popular stories which began in the Tang and Song Dynasties. They often involved a single narrator who would recite stories without accompaniment. Wenwei Du, “Xuetou: Comic Elements as Social Commentary in Suzhou Pinghua Storytelling,” Journal of Chinese Oral and Performing Literature 18, no.1 (2020): 33–44. — Trans.

[2] Cao Xueqin, The Story of the Stone translated by David Hawkes (Penguin: UK, 2012), 3. — Trans.

[3] Sima Qian, Watson Burton. Records of the Grand Historian (New York: Renditions-Columbia University Press; 1993). — Trans.

[4] The Song of Great Wind as translated by Burton Watson. Here Gaozu reflects on a life of war and wants nothing more than a peaceful life in the hometown he so cherishes. Sima Qian, Watson Burton. Records of the Grand Historian (New York: Renditions-Columbia University Press; 1993); John Minford, and Joseph S.M Lau, An Anthology of Translation: Classical Chinese Literature, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000),415. — Trans.

這一顆星，葛倫登，到蜉蟻會爬牆，簡直牽扯得無道理。但前些日子我偶又看了宋人平話《崔寧輾玉觀音》，在話入本事之先，卻來講究春天如何去了？王荊公說春是被雨打風催去了，有詞云云，但蘇小妹說不是雨打風催去，春是被燕子銜去了，有詞云云，而這亦仍有人不以為然，說也不是雨打風催去，也不是燕子銜去，春是與柳絮結伴，嫁給流水去了，如此一說又有一說，各各有詞云云，一大篇，亦都是這樣的牽扯可笑，但那說平話的人彈唱起來，想必很好聽。紅樓夢裡的明明是真事，卻曰、「滿紙荒唐言，一把辛酸淚」，便是漢高祖亡秦滅楚，幸沛置酒，謂父老曰、「遊子悲故鄉」，他亦做人到得那裡是那裡，像一顆星葛倫登的惟是新韻入清聽。

My Mother was not a gifted singer, although the children’s folk rhymes she would sing were more like chanting and would have a certain musical charm. Utilising the unique tones of each word she was able to chant them in rhyme and rhythm. China does not have the kind of songs and dances found in the West. Chinese dances came from the daily lives of the people and the songs were created by singing and chanting in harmony. This was true for all traditional operas and songs. Kunqu Opera (崑曲), Beijing Opera (京戲), Shengxian Opera (嵊縣戲), Shanghai Opera (申曲), Suzhou Opera (蘇灘),[1]as well as famous Xiaodiao songs like The Scenery of Wuxi (無錫景) and Lady Meng Jiang (孟姜女), all came from the folk chants of the people. The beauty of poetry and song is best stated in the ancient Jingshu (經書)[2] where it says, ‘poetry is the expression of earnest thought; singing is the prolonged utterance of that expression’.[3] It would also be remiss not to mention the Four Great Books of Song. Amongst the thousands of scrolls compiling the first book Imperial Readings of the Taiping Era (太平御覽) there is a part which reads ‘sing we all exclaim in awe, songs and melodies generations adore’.[4] The beauty of song has long played a vital role in Chinese life.

[1] In the original text Hu Lancheng writes 蘇攤. From contextual analysis the word he meant to use was 蘇灘 which is a type of opera originating in Suzhou. — Trans.

[2] Jingshu (經書) is also known in western literature as the Confucian Classics, or the Four Books (四書) and Five Classics (五經). The five classics were namely the Odes, the Documents, the Changes, and the Spring and Autumn Annals. Michael Nylan, The Five “Confucian” Classics. (Yale University Press, 2001). — Trans.

[3] James Legge, The Sacred Books of China: The Texts of Confucianism. Part I The Shu King, the Religious Portions of the Shih King, the Hsiao King (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1879). — Trans.

[4] Peter Francis Kornicki, Languages, Scripts, and Chinese Texts in East Asia (Oxford University Press, 2018). — Trans.

我母親不會唱歌，而童謠本來都是念念，單是念亦可以這樣好聽，就靠漢文章獨有的字字音韻具足。中國沒有西洋那樣的歌舞，卻是舞皆從家常動作而來，歌皆從念而來，無論崑曲京戲嵊縣戲申曲、蘇攤等，以及無錫景、孟姜女等小調，乃至流行歌，無不這樣。經書里說「歌永言」，又說「一唱而三嘆，有遺音者矣」，這樣說明歌唱，實在非常好。

Around the fourth lunar month, in the beginning of summer, a male bird would fly into our front garden. We called him Mr Jia (夾公) and watched as he flew in to eat the raspberry-like fupenzi (覆盆子).[1] As we watched him fly, Mother would teach me how to speak bird-language. They would say: “Mr Jia and Mrs Jia, collect and eat the fruit!”. Mother would also teach me how to understand the swallows. I would listen as they said: “we don’t want your salt, we don’t want your vinegar, we just want a place to rest, on your house we want to build a nest!” Every spring, the swallows would come to our house and build nests near main room of our house. They would always fly in couples, through our living room and up onto the ceiling, perching near the beams. I would watch them from the stairs and observe their habits. The swallows were honest, sincere, and pure. They just wanted a place to stay and demanded very little, they were polite and never startled anyone. In many ways my life on this earth is no different to the sparrows from my childhood. I would go on to study, take up an official government post and escape in exile travelling far away, but I always lived within my means; never asking for too much, migrating from place to place, building a nest wherever I went. I suppose Jesus was right when he said, ‘foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head’.[2] There is unavoidability of unhappiness amongst the vicissitudes of life. The transience of mortal life was famously noted by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang in I Pass Through the Lu Kingdom with a Sigh and a Sacrifice for Confucius:

            O Master, how did the world repay

Your life of long solicitude?

Can this sacrifice I watch, here between two temple pillars,

Be the selfsame omen of death you dreamed of long ago?[3]

The words of the Tang Dynasty poet were not as frivolous as the words of Christ, but both were inferior to the pure and unconstrained words of the sparrow.

[1] Fupenzi, is a type of raspberry found in Northern Asia and is commonly used in traditional Chinese medicine. Liu Yanze, Zhimin Wang, Zhang Junzheng. Dietary Chinese Herbs: Chemistry, Pharmacology and Clinical Evidence (Springer, 2015), 509. — Trans.

[2] Luke 9:58, Holy Bible: King James Version. — Trans.

[3] Witter Bynner, Kanghu Jiang, and Hengtangtuishi, The Jade Mountain: A Chinese Anthology, Being Three Hundred Poems of the T’ang Dynasty, (New York: Knopf, 1929). — Trans.

初夏在庭前，聽見夾公鳥叫，夾公即覆盆子，母親教我學鳥語、「夾公夾婆，摘顆吃顆！」還有是燕語、「不借你家鹽，不借你家醋，只借你家高樓大屋住─ ─住！」燕子每年春天來我家堂前做窠，雙雙飛在廳屋瓦背上呢喃，我就在階沿仰面望着跟了念。這燕子也真是廉潔，這樣少要求，不驚動人家。後來我讀書仕宧至出奔天涯，生活一直是這樣儉約，我在人世亦好像那燕子。基督說「人子沒有棲身的地方」，不免於人於己多有不樂，唐詩里「夫子何為哉，恓恓一代中」，還比他不輕薄，但亦不及這燕語清好。

When I was young, I would play with the kids from next door. There was one rhyme Mother never taught me which us kids all seemed to know, I gayly recited “seven piles of shoulder poles, rice filled buckets and flowering rush, say it seven times and you’ll be smart”. I would often play with A’wu (阿五), the daughter of our family friend Uncle Xiuyu (秀煜叔). She was one year younger than me so I would call her litter sister A’wu. We would sit next to me on the doorstep as I listened to her clear and mellifluous rendition: “Mountains inside the hills, rivers are rivers still, radish leaves flower peony at will.” My little ears would listen intently; even though radish leaves could never sprout peony, the way she sang the rhyme was so beautiful that you would almost believe it to be true.   

小時我還與鄰兒比斗，一口氣念「七簇扁擔稻桶芯，念得七遍會聰明」，則不是母親教的。又秀煜叔家的阿五妹妹，比我小一歲，與我兩人排排坐在門坎上，聽她清脆的念、「山裡山，灣里灣，蘿蔔菜籽結牡丹」。牡丹怎會是蘿蔔菜籽結的？但她念得來這樣好聽，想必是真的。

Since I was a child, I accepted the teachings of the Confucian Classics. The Book of Songs (詩經), the Book of Changes (易經), the Book of Documents (書經), and the Spring and Autumn Annals (春秋經) all had a great influence on me. These ancient books of profound knowledge and prevalence have had a lasting impact on my understanding of all things. As the years went by, it was through the study of the Book of Songs that I began to understand the concept of Xing (興) and through the pages of the Book of Changes and the Song Dynasty Confucian texts that I was able to grasp the idea of qi (氣), understanding how it flows through nature. By studying the Records of the Grand Historian (史記) I was able to understand the will of Heaven— a will embodied in the great spirit of kings and the divine providence of emperors.

我從小就是受的這樣的詩教，詩書易春秋，詩最居先，如此故後來我讀詩經曉得什麼是興，讀易經及宋儒之書曉得什麼是理氣，讀史知道什麼是天意。而那氣亦即是王氣。

By the time I was old enough to better understand the ways of the world, the Republic of China had already begun. The new regime was like the mountains and rivers, its influence stretched far and wide, flowing to all parts of the country. From north to south, there were various forms of civil unrest and misfortune, and the people were experiencing a long period of drought. Despite these complications, our family was happy. I remember when we would have guests round. The cheerful lady next door would sometimes visit. She was always laughing and joking and used to say everything with a smile on her face. When she saw me on the edge of the eaves peeling bamboo shoots, she would come over and give me a hand. At that time, Mother was in the kitchen cooking up a storm; the sounds of crackling, sizzling, and popping would bounce of the four walls and I knew the food was not far from being ready. The smoke spiraling upward from the kitchen chimney all the way to the front courtyard where it would gracefully disappear into the clear light blue sky. The scene was beautiful and served as a timely reminder of the splendid tranquility and heartwarming serenity of village life. Mother’s brother and my older male cousins, who had been ploughing the fields and cutting and collecting wood for generations, would also visit. They were generous and courteous guests, bringing a joy that would reveal just how good life can be. Kith and kin, who we regularly engaged in business, were not as jovial as close family members but would nevertheless take the time to stop past Hu Village on their way to Hangzhou and Shanghai. They would come to our house bearing gifts and would bring happy and free-flowing conversation. When guests from outside the village came it would feel like they were bringing a part of the outside world with them; and for a brief moment, it felt as if the whole world were visiting.

等我知人事已是民國初年。民國世界山河浩蕩，縱有諸般不如意，亦到底敞陽。但凡我家裡來了人客，便鄰婦亦說話含笑，幫我在檐頭剝筍，母親在廚下，煎炒之聲，響連四壁。炊煙裊到庭前，亮藍動人心，此即村落人家亦有現世的華麗。娘舅或表哥，他們乃耕田樵採之輩，來做人客卻是慷慨有禮義，賓主之際只覺人世有這樣好。又有經商的親友，不如此親熱，倒是條達洒脫，他們是來去杭州上海路過胡村，進來望望我們，這樣的人客來時，是外面的天下世界也都來到堂前了。

Every time I looked upon the sun setting behind the mountain, watching the goats bleating on the mountainside, villagers walking across the bridge, and the water beneath the bridge flowing endlessly, I would feel an overwhelming sense of melancholy. A kind of momentous desire to see beyond the mountains, coupled with a dejected sense of not knowing where that road may take me.[1] As I stood upon Yuling Hill (郁嶺墩) picking tea and pulling sweet potato from the ground, I would gaze at the flowing Shanxi River (剡溪), then look up at the horizon and see the white clouds engulfing the mountains in the distance. Somewhere over those mountains was Shaoxing, and if you kept going you would eventually find yourself in Hangzhou or Shanghai. As I gazed at the world around me and thought of what lay beyond those mountains, my heart was filled with something overwhelmingly, an indescribable abundance of emotion. I cannot quite put it into words but if I must, it would go something like a Guangxi (廣西) folk song I remember:

First my brother will always sing,

Sister refined and tasteful like spring,

Climbing high mountains, ring the gong,

Birds fly to all twelve states, singing their song.[2]    

[1] This interpretation is adapted from the commentary Xia Shiqing, where this cathartic and emotive section of the book is understood as Hu Lancheng’s desire to leave Hu Village. This desire is confronted by an overriding feeling of melancholy entrenched in the unknown life outside the village. Hu Lancheng wants to leave his village, but does not know where to go, or how to get there. Here, he is also confronted by the realisation that if he were to leave, he would likely never return. Xia Shiqing 夏世清, Sejie: Zhang Ailing yu Hu Lancheng cheng de qianshi jinsheng色·戒：張愛玲與胡蘭成的前世今生 [Lust and Marriage: Zhang Ailing and Hu Lancheng Past Experience and Life] (北京圖書有限公司, Beijing Publishing Co, 2007), 202.

[2] Here ‘twelve states’ refers to the nine provinces of ancient China, also known as Huaxia (華夏). These nine provinces were established regions during the Xia and Shang Dynasties. Depending on the historical records the names of the nine provinces can change. The Gungxi song exemplifies that birds will travel to all parts of China. According to the Shi Rongcheng (容成氏) the nine provinces are Tu (塗), Jia (夾), Zhang (競), Ju (莒), Ou (藕), Jing (荊), Yang (陽), Xu (敘) and Cuo (虘). Vera Dorofeeva-Lichtmann, “The Rong Chengshi 容成氏 Version of the “Nine Provinces”: Some Parallels with Transmitted Texts”, East Asian Science, Technology, and Medicine 32, (2010): 13. — Trans.

我小時每見太陽斜過半山，山上羊叫，橋上行人，橋下流水湯湯，就有一種遠意，心裡只是悵然。我在郁嶺墩採茶掘蕃薯，望得見剡溪，天際白雲連山，山外即紹興，再過去是杭州上海，心裡就像有一樣東西滿滿的，卻說不出來。若必說出來，亦只能像廣西民歌里的、

唱歌總是哥第一，     風流要算妹當頭。

出去高山打鑼望，     聲鳴應過十二州。

Half my life has already passed me by. I feel myself falling and withering away like autumn leaves. I have a deep connection to my childhood memories, but no longer feel a sense of longing for the past. I am at peace with my childhood and have no yearning or desire to return to Hu Village and live there again. Perhaps the only way I would return would be for Tomb-Sweeping Festival; visiting the graves of my ancestors, as is right and proper. It is not that I have bitter feelings or emotions towards Hu Village or my childhood, I was well cared for. But I suppose it is like eating delicious food. The first time the food hits your pallet, you feel a sense of excitement and mouth-watering enjoyment. However, once you have tasted it before, your taste buds eventually get used to the feeling, and it is impossible to recreate the original enjoyment, as the memory of that first bite continues to fade. In any event, I am now living in a foreign country across the sea, a long way away from the place I once called home. I hold no resentment towards my childhood. My memories of Hu Village are fading but they are not so remote that it feels like another lifetime in some distant land. Just like a spirited horse will not turn back and graze on old pasture, I should move forward and not wallow over my past. As was said by a Han Dynasty poet:

Walk on again walk on

From you, separated alive.

Between us, a million odd miles,

Each at one end of the sky.

The roads are difficult and long.

To meet: where, how and when?

Tartar horses follow north winds.

Birds of Yueh nest on south branches.

Separation: each day farther away.

My girdle: each day becomes looser.

Floating clouds veil the white sun.

The wanderer: no thought to return.

Thinking of you makes me old.

Months, years: all of a sudden: dusk.[1]

I am a vagabond; wandering far from my hometown; drifting through the years.

[1] The poem is called Walk On Again Walk On (行行重行行) and is translated in Wai-lim Yip, Chinese Poetry: An Anthology of Major Modes and Genres, (London: Duke University Press, 1997), 69. — Trans.

今我飄零已半生，但對小時的事亦只有思無戀，等將來時勢太平了我亦不想回鄉下去住，惟清明回去上墳是理當。胡村與我的童年雖好，譬如好吃的東西，已經吃過了即不可再討添，且我今在絕國異域，亦與童年在胡村並非隔世，好馬不吃回頭草，倒不是因為負氣。漢人的詩、「浮雲蔽白日，遊子不顧返。」我不但對於故鄉是盪子，對於歲月亦是盪子。