He drove to the emperor’s main palace and visited all the rooms, storehouses, and treasuries and could hardly believe what he was seeing. The throne room alone could seat 10,000 people. The main door of the palace was made of magnetic stone so as to prevent hidden metal weapons from being smuggled in. Outside the massive doors were colorful black and white flags fluttering on poles fifty feet high, each scripted with the word Qin. Leading away from the palace was a long, covered walkway that extended all the way to the top of South Mountain. Twelve colossal metal figures were lined up like monster toy soldiers in the garden, each weighing over a quarter of a million pounds. Inside the rooms of the palace were jade and pearl ornaments, drums made of alligator skins, gold and silver containers, coral bowls, and beautiful embroidered silks.
Among the rarities was a tall lamp made of blue jade. It was six feet high and sculpted in the shape of five coiled dragons covered by scales, each holding a light in its mouth. When lit, the scales quivered from the heat. The dragons appeared to come alive, spitting fire from their mouths and filling the room with luminous light.
In another room he found twelve men made of bronze sitting on a mat. They were about two feet high, dressed in brightly colored silk robes, and each held a lute or a reed organ. Below the mat were two bronze pipes that ran beneath each figure and protruded behind the mat several feet into the air. One pipe was empty while the other contained a rope the size of a finger. Two men were needed to operate the “orchestra,” with one blowing into the empty pipe and the other making knots with the rope. When they did so, the group of little bronze figures would make music and play together like real musicians.
He also came across a jade flute about two feet long containing six holes. When the flute was blown, Liu Bang saw a succession of carriages, horses, and miscellaneous exotic animals rushing past mountains, forests, and other beautiful scenery.
Liu Bang was, of course, thrilled by all this. He was especially enraptured with the thousands of beautiful women, all of them alluring and eager to please. For someone of his peasant background, this was heady stuff. He decided to stay and rest for a few days.
But his bodyguard and brother-in-law, Fan Kuai, objected. “Is Your Lordship interested in being ruler of the entire country or merely becoming a rich warlord of Xianyang?” Fan asked.
“My goal is to reunite all the states and become their overall ruler, of course. You know the answer! Why do you ask?”
“We have seen wondrous sights today,” Fan said, “marvelous objects surpassing belief and beautiful women lovely to behold. The Second Emperor had them all. Look how long he lasted! We still have much to accomplish. I beg Your Lordship to return to camp and not linger here.”
“Has my wife been telling you to spy on me again?” Liu Bang grumbled good-naturedly. “She and that wife of yours are always telling me what to do. I’ve never seen a pair of sisters more alike. Nag! Nag! Nag!”
But strategist Zhang Liang overheard and said, “Your Lordship is here today because of the Second Emperor’s tyranny. During his rule he lived in wanton luxury while the people suffered. Show the world that you are different. Cleanse out all the previous rottenness. Live modestly! Keep in mind the following maxims: Zhong yan ni er li yu xing, ‘loyal advice that sounds unpleasant must still be followed.’ Liang yao ku ko li yu bing, ‘effective medicine that tastes bitter must still be swallowed.’ I beg Your Lordship to heed Fan’s words.”
Liu Bang acquiesced and sealed all the treasures. Before returning to camp he allowed Administrator Xiao He to gather all the charts, maps, registers, documents, and other important writings. From these he learned the terrain of the country, the records of harvests and famines, the sites of granaries, and the people’s complaints.
A few days later he summoned the most distinguished elders from Xianyang and the surrounding provinces and respectfully said to them, “Fathers and elders, you have long suffered from the cruel laws of Qin. Those of you who dared to criticize the Qin government used to be executed with their entire families. Even talking in pairs was considered a crime and could result in public execution in the marketplace. We revolutionaries have made a covenant among ourselves that whoever enters first through the passes will be king of the Land Within the Passes (Guanzhong). Therefore, as King of Guanzhong, I wish to come to an agreement with you regarding my new code: yue fa san zhang, ‘a code that consists of only three laws’:
First, a man who murders another will receive the death penalty.
Second, a man who harms, robs, or steals will be punished according to his crime.
Third and last, all the other laws of Qin are hereby repealed.
As long as you follow my code, you will be undisturbed and live in peace. Fathers and elders, be not afraid! We have not come here to exploit or tyrannize you but to deliver you from harm. Now that Qin is no more, we await the noble warrior Xiang Yu and others so that we can make an agreement with them.”
Then Liu Bang sent messengers to accompany the former Qin officials to the districts, cities, and hamlets to make his code known to everyone. The people were pleased and vied with one another to bring cattle, sheep, wine, and food for the enjoyment of the soldiers. But Liu Bang would not accept and said, “We refuse to be a burden to you. Besides, the granaries are full. Our soldiers lack nothing.”
His popularity soared. The people now feared only that he would not be king.
It is amazing that a man like Liu Bang, who came from a lower-class background and maintained the habits and behavior of a peasant, should have succeeded in capturing the people’s imagination in such a short time. By all accounts he was lazy and feckless as a young man. Even when he became chief of a ting, he was always squatting on the mat like a peasant, something considered undignified by nobles. His language was uncouth. Scholars and officials alike looked down upon him. With the exception of Zhang Liang, all his followers were commoners, mostly from his hometown of Pei.
However, unlike the other warlords, he cared about the grievances of the common people and had a genuine desire to help them. They, in turn, felt understood and were attracted to him. His aptitude in recognizing talent, his willingness to accept advice from all sorts of people, and his ability to make quick decisions were all powerful assets. He knew by instinct that good publicity was vital and often sent emissaries in advance of his troops to announce his virtuous intentions.
Despite his peasant background, or perhaps because of it, Liu Bang became the emblem of a just and benevolent ruler. He was widely perceived by the people as someone who would exercise power for the benefit of the masses. He made them feel that he was one of them and that if given the authority to govern, he would do so not in his own interest alone, like all the previous monarchs, but in their common interest instead.
Unlike the two warlords Xiang Yu and Liu Bang, who were born three hundred years after him, an impoverished aristocrat named Confucius (551–479 B.C.E.) had conquered the Chinese people in another way: through education. He formed the first private school for higher learning in China and set out to develop his students’ intellect, cultivate their morals, and discipline their minds. Ever since then, the Chinese have revered scholarship and education. One of the highest compliments that can be paid to a young man is to quote him the proverb ru zi ke jiao, “this young man is worth educating.”
Although Mao Tse-tung identified himself with the First Emperor during the last two decades of his life, his background was actually similar to that of Liu Bang. Mao’s father was a peasant from Hunan Province who through thrift and hard work was able to acquire three acres of land. The old man was autocratic, badly educated, bigoted, and mean. Mao set out to be different. He was an excellent student and an avid reader, but his father took him out of school at thirteen and turned him into a laborer. After two years he ran away from home and enrolled at another school against his father’s wishes. At the age of twenty he entered the Hunan First Normal School and studied there for five years to become a school-teacher. B
y the time Mao graduated at the age of twenty-five, he was well versed in modern European thought as well as classical Chinese literature. He traveled to Beijing and worked as an assistant librarian at Beijing University before returning to Hunan as a primary school teacher. He continued to read widely, including translations of Marxist texts, and began to contribute articles to various local publications. His essays and poetry were widely admired, and his name began to be known. He became a political activist and introduced the groundbreaking concept that impoverished peasants (rather than urban proletariats) should be the backbone of the Chinese Communist revolution.
Like Liu Bang, he led his peasant army into the mountain wilderness, escaping from the Nationalists and the Japanese. He forbade his soldiers to steal food or even a single needle from the people. He became known as a soldier-poet, waging guerrilla warfare and tending a farm during the day and reading and writing at night.
When I was a young medical student in London in the early 1960s, I had a Chinese friend from Shanghai named H. H. Tien who was a postgraduate student in mathematics at Imperial College. H. H. worshiped Mao, and we used to have long discussions about Communist China. I remember him telling me one day that Mao’s talents were already evident even as a young boy. While Mao was still a teenager, a family who lived nearby insisted on giving him their eighteen-year-old daughter as his bride because they considered him to be ru zi ke jiao, “a young man full of promise.” Mao was reluctant because the girl was four years older but finally went through with it. The marriage was never consummated, and Mao eventually rejected her and married his professor’s daughter.
Filled with idealism and high hopes, H. H. left England in 1962 and went back to China to work for Mao. I never heard from him again. Years later we heard that he had been persecuted and imprisoned during the Cultural Revolution. Far from finding a heroic knight-errant at the helm of China, H. H. was horrified to discover that the ru zi ke jiao, “young man full of promise,” called Mao Tse-tung had turned into the cruelest despot in Chinese history. Depressed and disillusioned, my friend H. H. committed suicide in 1967.
CHAPTER 13
Banquet at Wild Goose Gate
Hong Men Yan
Since the publication of my autobiography, I have been asked over and over again, “What is the response of your family to your book? Are you still in touch with any of your siblings?”
I encountered tremendous difficulty initially in getting my book published. After a series of rejection letters, my manuscript was finally placed in the hands of Susan Watt, considered by many the best editor in London. To my surprise and delight, Susan asked to see me in her office.
Our meeting was brief but to the point. Susan said, “Your manuscript is too long, but I like your story. Shorten it by 100,000 words.” Then she added, “I know it must have taken great courage to write this book. You know, don’t you, that your family is not going to be happy.”
After a year of extensive deletions and painful rewrites, Susan did accept the book for publication. She had been correct in every aspect. The original manuscript was too long, and some of my relatives have never forgiven me for revealing the truth about my Chinese family.
The book was published in London in 1997. Even today, I am seized from time to time by an urge to phone my brother James—not to talk about anything important or profound, but to share those childhood impressions floating randomly like leaves on a wintry Shanghai afternoon, dredged from our common past by the fragrance of a magnolia blossom, the pungent flavor of vinegar and ginger coating the claw of a Shanghai crab, or the familiar, plaintive cries of street vendors overheard in old Chinese movies. At such moments, I long to pick up the phone and say to James, “Do you remember eating those warm sweet potatoes Aunt Baba used to buy from street vendors around New Year’s, or the delicious smell of chestnuts being sautéed in giant woks over hot coals on Avenue Joffre?”
One morning not long ago in Hong Kong, Bob and I met Uncle Hui, an old family friend. Over lunch, I mentioned to him my wish to contact James.
“Don’t bother!” Uncle Hui said. “He will never forgive you for writing Falling Leaves.”
“But why? All I did was to write the truth.”
“Precisely! Now everyone knows! Some of your siblings feel that you have made them lose face in front of the whole world. Not many Chinese are willing to write the truth about their parents. Don’t you realize how vital the concept of face is in the Chinese psyche? To your family members, what you did was almost sacrilegious! Have you heard of the story of hong men yan, ‘the banquet at Wild Goose Gate’? The entire history of China was altered because of the concept of face at a singular moment 2200 years ago. Not much has changed. Face is as important now as it was then!”
In January 206 B.C.E. both Xiang Yu and Liu Bang were encamped outside the capital city, Xianyang. Xiang Yu was at Hongmen (Wild Goose Gate) and Liu Bang at Bashang, about nine miles away. Xiang Yu’s army totaled 400,000 men, whereas Liu Bang had only 100,000, a ratio of four to one.
Xiang Yu decided to destroy Liu Bang after the latter’s troops refused him entry into the Hangu Pass. He and his chief adviser, Old Man Fan, called a meeting to discuss plans for an all-out attack on Liu Bang’s army, scheduled for the next morning. Among those present was one man who felt deeply torn at the turn of events.
The man’s name was Xiang Bo. He was Xiang Yu’s youngest uncle, and he held the position of deputy prime minister in Xiang Yu’s army. In his wild youth, Xiang Bo was often in trouble with the Qin authorities and once killed a man. Someone introduced him to Zhang Liang, later to become Liu Bang’s strategist, who at great risk to himself sheltered him for many years. While in hiding, the two became close.
When the meeting ended, Xiang Bo mounted his horse and galloped in the night to Liu Bang’s camp. There he saw Zhang Liang and warned him of next morning’s impending battle.
“Come with me!” Xiang Bo advised. “You saved my life when I was in dire peril. Now it is my turn to do the same for you. The matter is urgent. There is no need for you to perish with Liu Bang in tomorrow’s bloodbath. You must come with me now!” He then related to Zhang Liang all the facts.
But Zhang Liang said, “His Lordship and I have made a pact to help each other achieve one another’s dreams. Now that he is in mortal danger, it would be dishonorable of me to abandon him. I must inform him and hear what he has to say. Please wait here.”
Zhang Liang went to Liu Bang’s tent and told him the news. Liu Bang was terrified and said, “I listened to bad advice and refused Xiang Yu entry, thinking that he would honor the covenant and recognize me as king of the Land Within the Passes because I reached Xianyang first. Obviously I was wrong and have now offended him. What should I do?”
“Does your Lordship think that your army can match up with that of Xiang Yu?”
Liu Bang replied glumly, “Of course not. And so, what do I do now?”
“Then it is urgent that Your Lordship speak to Xiang Bo yourself. Tell him that you had no intention of offending his nephew Xiang Yu. Explain to him specifically your reasons for what took place at Hangu Pass. That is a key issue and a very sore point with him.”
Liu Bang nodded, deep in thought. Then he suddenly asked, “How long have you known Xiang Bo?”
“For years and years! Your Lordship need have no fear on that score. Yes! I know him well. In those days I was in hiding myself for trying to assassinate the First Emperor. Xiang Bo came to me in great peril, having killed a man. I gave him shelter and we became friends. That’s why he rushed over tonight to warn me.”
“Who is older, you or Xiang Bo?”
“He is a few years older. Why do you ask?”
“Please invite him to my tent. I shall treat him with the same courtesy as if he were my older brother.”
Zhang Liang returned with Xiang Bo. Liu Bang ordered wine and greeted his visitor with the utmost respect. Using special wine cups made of ox horn reserved for the most important guests, he repeatedly
drank to Xiang Bo’s health. As the wine loosened their tongues and washed away their inhibitions, the two got along so well that they soon contracted their children to each other in marriage.
Then Liu Bang said, “Ever since I entered the pass, I have qiu hau wu fan, ‘not disturbed the finest downy hair’ or ‘trespassed against the people to the slightest extent’ (qiu hou means ‘autumn hair’ or ‘newly grown down’—something so small as to be almost invisible). Neither have I confiscated anything for my personal use. Instead, I made a registry of all the household names and sealed up the treasuries and depositories in preparation for your nephew’s arrival. The reason I sent troops to guard the passes was only to prevent the entrance of bandits and other criminals. Day and night I have been waiting for Xiang Yu. I would never have dared to betray him.
“I beg you to go back to your nephew and make clear to him that I had no intention of offending His Highness.”
Xiang Bo nodded but advised, “Tomorrow you must go in person first thing in the morning to make your own apology to Xiang Yu.”
Xiang Bo rushed back to camp and told Xiang Yu all that Liu Bang had said. Seeing that Xiang Yu was wavering, he took the opportunity to add, “If Liu Bang had not crushed the Qin troops in the first place and smoothed your way, how could you, sir, have entered the pass so easily? Besides, when a man has done you a great service, it is not honorable to attack him. Since you are allies pursuing the same cause, why don’t you befriend him instead?”