Adeline Mah - A Thousand Pieces of Gold - A Memoir of China’s Past Through its Proverbs

State of Haan	=		Haan
General Hahn Xin	=		Hahn
Han dynasty	=		Han

As a little girl in Shanghai, I remember coming home from school in the afternoons and running up the stairs. The first thing I did was to dash into my grandfather Ye Ye’s room to see what he was doing. His room was next to the one I shared with my Aunt Baba, Father’s older sister. When he was in a good mood, he would be practising calligraphy and humming a tune from Beijing opera.

One day I asked him, ‘Ye Ye, what are these words that you are writing?’

‘They are proverbs.’

‘Why do you write proverbs when you practise calligraphy?’

He rested his brush on his inkstand and looked at me. ‘That is an excellent question!’ he answered. ‘Tell me, what is a proverb?’

‘A wise saying.’

‘Where do proverbs come from?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘The best proverbs come from our history. History describes the behaviour of people who lived in the past. Those people were our ancestors. We Chinese probably revere our ancestors and our history more than any other race. To us, history is not only a record of what has happened before. It is also a guide to educate children like yourself, giving you examples that will teach you how to live your life. Proverbs mirror the past to benefit the present.

‘Now, do you recognise the four characters that I am practising today? If you do, you can have a choice: a piece of candy from my jar or the legend behind these four words.’

With some difficulty, I read aloud the four characters, jiu niu yi mao (loss of one hair from nine oxen).

Ye Ye was delighted! ‘Since I’ve never told you stories from history before, today you get both the story and the candy. But only today! From now on, you’ll have to choose between the two.’

I nodded eagerly, sat on the floor by his chair and put the candy in my mouth as he began. The narrative he related was so fascinating that, despite my greed, I soon forgot about the candy. From then on, I often chose to listen rather than satisfy my longing for sweets.

My Ye Ye passed away many years ago, but his proverbs and the history behind them have remained in my mind. On one of the last occasions we were together, he said to me, ‘No matter what else people may steal from you, they will never be able to take the knowledge of these proverbs from your mind.’

In this book, I would like to share my knowledge, as well as my love of proverbs, with you.

When I first wrote the story of my Chinese family, I chose my grandfather’s favourite proverb for its title. Falling Leaves (return to their roots) is actually the second half of a couplet first published during the Song dynasty (AD 960–1279):

Shu gao qian zhang Luo ye gui gen.

Even if a tree reaches the height of ten thousand feet,

Falling leaves return to their roots.

Nowadays, the first half of the couplet is seldom used and only the second half is cited. ‘Falling leaves return to their roots’ symbolises the return of the wandering child to her ancestral home, as well as overseas Chinese going back to China or, for that matter, any ethnic group returning to their country of origin. Grandfather used to tell me that this proverb is a reminder that as a person gets older, he tends to go back to his beginnings.

In the 1980s, when Britain’s Margaret Thatcher and China’s Deng Xiaoping signed the agreement to return Hong Kong to China in 1997, Deng was asked by reporters to make a public statement. Instead of a lengthy speech, Deng righted the wrongs of 150 years of Chinese humiliation by uttering the four simple words luo ye gui gen (falling leaves return to their roots).

On that historic occasion, it was by means of an evocative proverb that Deng Xiaoping chose to express his sentiments, as well as those of over one billion Chinese.

There are numerous other recorded examples of Chinese leaders using proverbs to illustrate the lessons learned from history. In the 1930s, China was ruled by Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Nationalist party. Instead of fighting the Japanese who had invaded China, Chiang was preoccupied with annihilating the fledgling Communist movement led by Mao Zedong. Under pressure from the USA to drive out the Japanese before tackling the Communists, Chiang refused, saying, ‘The Japanese are only xuan jie zhi ji “a disease of the skin”, but the Communists are xin fu zhi huan “a malady of the heart”.’

In America, Chiang was much admired for his poetic eloquence. What his western audience did not realise was that Chiang’s statements were not original. He was merely quoting an ancient proverb.

When the Vietnam War escalated and Ho Chi Minh asked for aid from Communist China, Mao Zedong agreed to assist and quoted the proverb chun wang chi han (when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold). The proverb stems from an incident during the early Warring States period (475–221 BC) when China was divided into many states. One state wished to invade another and asked for safe passage through a third one in order to do so. The prime minister of the last state advised his king not to grant the request, warning him that if the second state were conquered, their country would be the next target because chun wang chi han (when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold). The proverb signifies ‘interdependence’ between two parties and was first written down by Zhuangzi (born 330 BC).

While doing research for this book, I was amazed to come across the same proverb in a memorial written more than 2200 years ago by Li Si, a high-ranking official in the government of King Zheng of Qin. In the year 233 BC, Li Si was sent by his sovereign to the neighbouring state of Haan. At that time, the state of Zhao was planning to attack Qin and was asking for safe passage through Haan. Like Mao Zedong, Li Si quoted the proverb ‘when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold’ in an attempt to dissuade the King of Haan from granting the army of Zhao access through his land. He added in his memorial, ‘Qin and Haan suffer the same perils. The misfortune of one is the misfortune of the other. This is an obvious fact.’

Substitute the state of Zhao for the USA, Qin for Vietnam and Haan for Communist China, and we have Mao Zedong thinking the same thoughts and using the same language in 1963, as Li Si over twenty-two centuries earlier.

In September 2000, I read of the execution of two high-ranking Chinese officials for corruption: one was the vice-chairman of China’s National People’s Congress and the other was the deputy governor of a large province. The Chinese newspapers reported that before their crimes were discovered, both had already prepared escape routes in the tradition of the proverb jiao tu san ku. However, they were caught before they could put their flight plan into action.

That proverb jiao tu san ku means ‘a cunning rabbit has three warrens’. It originates from an ancient history book entitled Strategies between the Warring States , written over 2000 years ago. The proverb relates the story of a man named Meng who was prime minister to the King of Qi during the fourth century BC. Meng sent his adviser Feng to his fief to collect debts. Instead of doing so, Feng forgave all the loans, telling the villagers that he was doing this on the Prime Minister’s orders. Meng was displeased but the deed was done. A year later, Meng fell from favour and had to return to his native village. When he was still one hundred li (about thirty miles) away, the local people, young and old, all came out to welcome him. Meng was greatly moved and praised Feng for his far-sightedness but the latter said, ‘Jiao tu san ku. (A cunning rabbit has three warrens to hide and avoid capture.) You have only one. I am going to build you two more.’ Feng then obtained a fallback offer for Meng as Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Wei. Hearing of this, the King of Qi reinstated Meng as his Prime Minister. Feng told Meng, ‘Now that all three holes are in place, you may relax and live in peace.’