fashion Photo Stories
Language Chinese Cooking Basics Ethnic
Cuisine NEW WEBSITE Modern History ART PLA Workouts Internet Speak
Books BLOGS
Chinese Slang Karaoke SPORTS
Chinese Snacks
Recipes FILM & TV Lifestyle Differences
THE SKETCH BOOK: CHINESE PEOPLE
TCM REMEDIES Street Smarts Toilet-themed Restaurants MOVIES
Travel Tips Character Stories HOW-TO’S Ancient History
Feng Shui
MEMES Food
Edited by World Center for Chinese Teaching and Research, The Commercial Press
www.
theworldofchinese .com
It’s brand new. Give it a spin. We think you’ll like what you find.
2013/1/25
人-1.indd
9:02:58
14
中国
漫画
36,Wang Fu Jing St. Beijing, 100710, China Tel: 86-10-65258899 ext.407 Email: duanxiayun@cp.com.cn
4/2014 Migration mythos, lottery lore, China culture chic, and ready-to-order relics
S
ummer is a time for vacations, getaways, and changes to the status quo, but the whole of China has been on the move for quite some time. The Chinese people—spurred by the changes of the economy and society at large— have been picking up stakes and seeking their fortunes all over the country and overseas. Years ago, this modern exodus would have been unthinkable, but China’s modern economic miracle has made this all possible, albeit with some unforeseen and some might say unavoidable consequences. To start, migrant workers from around China have been crowding into the already bursting city centers, looking for a better paycheck and a better life. China’s middle class, on the other hand, are looking to escape the rat race in the cities, and many of China’s quieter areas are seeing an influx of young Chinese people hoping to make their home and their money far from the noise and madness of the big cities. The next logical step in the wealth gap is to get out of China altogether; from the upper middle class to the super rich, parents and the uber-wealthy are looking for new passports— from the US to Greece and from Australia to Portugal. Learn more in “China on the Move” (see page 28). Speaking of the super rich, winning the lottery is the best shot most of us will ever have, and China’s legal gambling circuit is a great place to start. “Feeling Lucky?” (see page 36) by Carlos Ottery takes a look at this oft-overlooked world of government sanctioned gambling and beyond. Legal or not, China has a reputation for loving gambling, and this piece tries to understand why. Carlos even hit the betting shops himself, but seeing as how he’s still working here, it didn’t go as well as hoped. But, if you want a real risk, there’s probably no better place to start than China’s antique market in “The Antique Hustle” (see page 42). China, a nation with more tangible history than most, has an almost unbelievably huge market for phony antiques and bogus artifacts that can fool China’s most learned experts. Part of the problem is in a missing generation of appraisers and experts, whose modern equivalents lack the real world experience to know when they’re being scammed. Be it terracotta figurines that trick entire government bodies or jade dressers and stools that fool unlucky buyers, buying antiques in China is a little more complicated than simply picking them up in Panjiayuan. Guoxue (国学) is, in one fell swoop, a philosophy, a fashion, and an education; it’s a way of looking at the world through the eyes of an ancient China to achieve modern peace and success. More importantly, guoxue fills a spiritual and ethical hole in modern China, but is looking to China’s past to solve its current problems effective? The revival of this pursuit, the idea that centuries old knowledge has practical life lessons to teach, is broad in scope, sometimes just added to a corporate seminar for a bit of flair and sometimes a lifestyle that encourages sham science and mistreatment of women. For more, check out “We Don’t Need No (Western) Education” (see page 48). If you’re still in the mood for a little culture after that, check out some excellent photos of traditional papermaking in Kaleidoscope (see page 18), or perhaps head on over to our new section, Objectified (see page 74), to learn a little bit about the odd objects you see in China every day such as therapeutic walnuts and tea pets. If your tastes run toward the more macabre, sidle on over to Made in China (see page 24), which discusses the history of poison and poisonings in the Middle Kingdom, or, as ever, check out Agony Ayi (see page 94) for a dose of unabashed misanthropy. If you just want to relax with a good read, we have some vivid fiction from author Qiao Mai (荞麦) in Dragon’s Digest (see page 12), or just dance with some dama in Group Think (see page 70). Don’t forget to check out our website at theworldofchinese.com and our new digital version for the iPad. With that, from all of us here at TWOC, we wish you happy reading.
Managing Editor Tyler Roney Issue 4 /2014
1
刊名题字 许嘉璐
Inscription for The World of Chinese by Xu Jialu 声明：本刊内容未经书面许可，不得使用。本刊内容的电子版、 网络版和其他语种的版权视同一并授予本刊所有。
All Rights Reserved. No part of the contents herein should be republished without the prior written consent of The World of Chinese. The electronic and online versions of information in this magazine and copyrights in other languages are the intellectual property of The World of Chinese.
ISSN 1673 - 7660 CN11 - 5509 / H
DIRECTED BY 主管： PUBLISHED BY 主办： PRODUCED BY 编辑出版： CONSULTANTS 顾问： PRODUCTION SUPERVISOR 总监制： PUBLISHER 社长： EXECUTIVE PUBLISHER 副社长： CHIEF EDITOR 主编： MANAGING EDITOR 执行主编： BOARD DIRECTOR 编委主任： BOARD MEMBERS 编委：
EDITORIAL DIRECTOR 编辑部主任： DEPUTY EDITOR 高级编辑： EDITORS / CORRESPONDENTS 编辑/记者： ART DIRECTOR 艺术总监： ILLUSTRATOR 插画： WEB AND MARKETING DIRECTOR 网络与市场总监： WEB EDITOR 网络编辑： DISTRIBUTION 发行部： MARKETING MANAGER 市场经理： ADVERTISING 广告部： INTERNS 实习生：
PROOFREADERS 责任校对： OFFICE ADDRESS 社址：
FAX 传真： EDITORIAL TEL 编辑部电话： EDITORIAL E-MAIL 编辑部电子邮箱： ADVERTISING TEL 广告部电话： ADVERTISING E-MAIL 广告部电子邮箱： SUBSCRIPTION TEL 发行部电话： SUBSCRIPTION E-MAIL 发行部电子邮箱： WEBSITE 网址： NATIONAL SERIAL CODE 国内邮发代号： OVERSEAS DISTRIBUTOR 国外发行： OVERSEAS CODE 国外代号： AD PERMIT 广告许可证：
China Publishing and Media Co., Ltd. 中国出版传媒股份有限公司 The Commercial Press Co., Ltd. 商务印书馆 The World of Chinese Magazine Co., Ltd. 《汉语世界》杂志社有限责任公司 Xu Jialu 许嘉璐, Xu Lin 许琳, Joel Bellassen (France) 白乐桑 (法) Yu Dianli 于殿利 Zhou Hongbo 周洪波 Chu Dandan 储丹丹 Cao Quan 草荃 Tyler Roney (USA) Nie Xiaoyang 聂晓阳 Jun Liu (USA) 刘骏 (美), Ping Chen (AU) 陈平 (澳), Chu Chengzhi (USA) 储诚志 (美), Yuan Boping (UK) 袁博平 (英), Goh Yeng-Seng (SG) 吴英成 (新加坡), Wang Tao 王涛, Li Yuming 李宇明, Zhu Xiaojian 朱小健, Wang Jianqin 王建勤, Zhu Ruiping 朱瑞平, Zhang Hesheng 张和生, Peng Zeng'an 彭增安, Xu Xingsheng 徐醒生 Liu Jue 刘珏 Carlos Ottery (UK) Ginger Huang 黄原竟, Alicia Zhang 张华阳 Cai Yi 蔡怡 Gao Fei 高飞, Huang Shuo 黄硕, Sun Hongjia 孙洪佳 Keoni Everington (USA) 华武杰 (美) Weijing Zhu 祝伟婧 Hong Jie 洪洁 Lucie Blanche 白静源 Hu Jiping 胡继萍 Nargiz Koshoibekova (KG), Tony Han (UK) 韩欢平 (英), Ruellia Zhang (US), Cameron Saunders (US), Alessandro Sorrentino (UK), Kim Boekhoorn (NL), Sahar Shaykhzoda (NL), Lucy Yu (AUS) Yu Libin 于立滨, Zhao Yuhong 赵育红 1508 / 1509 Jiahui International Center, 14 Jiqingli, Chaowai Street, Beijing 100020, China 中国北京朝外大街吉庆里14号佳汇国际中心 1508 /1509 (邮编100020) +86-10-65523101 +86-10-65523106 /65523100x836 editor@theworldofchinese.com +86-10-65523108 / 65523100x801 advertising@theworldofchinese.com +86-10-65523109 subscriptions@theworldofchinese.com www.theworldofchinese.com 80 - 570 China International Books Trading Corporation 中国国际图书贸易总公司 BM4956 BAIC DBB Ad. No. 0040 京东工商广字第0040号
WHERE TO BUY CHINA BEIJING • Cozy Bo2k • Major 7-Eleven stores • Kubrick (Moma) • Page One Bookshop • April Gourmet • Bookworm • Foreign Language Bookstore in Wangfujing • Hanfenlou Bookstore • Trends Lounge • Sanlitun Hostel
SHANGHAI
• Boocup • Cityshop • University Newsstands
SHENZHEN •Old Heaven
TIANJIN •Tonglou Bookstore
SUZHOU •Bookworm Suzhou
CHENGDU •Bookworm Chengdu
GERMANY BERLIN
• Berliner Presse Vertrieb
MUNICH • K Presse+Buch
HAMBURG
• Pressevertrieb Nord KG
INTERNATIONAL AND DOMESTIC SUBSCRIPTIONS
Email: mail@theworldofchinese.com
Co-producer: Beijing Center for the Promotion of Chinese Overseas 协办：北京汉语国际推广中心
4/2014
48 WE DON’T NEED NO (WESTERN) EDUCATION 中国人的“国学”饥渴 Guoxue supporters say the key to China’s future is in its past, giving rise to a whole new and slightly odd China culture chic
28
COVER STORY
42 THE ANTIQUE HUSTLE 古董造假，永远魔高一丈？ A combination of skilled workmanship, clueless authorities, and a lack of standards has left China’s antique markets a monumental mess
36 FEELING LUCKY? 小人物的“手气”造就的博彩帝国 Can state-run lotteries and scratch cards sate the public appetite for games of chance or is China’s gambling addiction fated to expand?
CHINA ON THE MOVE 迁徙的中国人
Three very different looks at how China is transforming itself through patterns of migration, from neglected migrant workers to China’s nouveau riche
Issue 4 /2014
3
GALLERY
58
POWER, DESIRE, AND VIOLENCE 图像的制造与编辑者蔡卫东 A sit down with photography producer and editor Cai Weidong, who eschews the term “photographer” to better express his views on sexuality, reality, and the concept of viewing itself
12
18
DRAGON’S DIGEST
THE GOLDFISH 《金鱼》
古法造纸
Qiao Mai brings us a tale of love and regret in Beijing, a story of missed opportunities and longing for difference
0 7GROUP THINK
THE DANCING DAMA 大妈改变世界 You’ve probably heard of them, or maybe you heard them yourself: the dreaded dama. We take a look at the history and misconceptions surrounding these Chinese women.
4
PAPER PEOPLE In the mountains of Guangdong Province, the villages of Shuidong and Dengcun play host to a style of papermaking that has changed little since the invention of paper itself
86
BOOKMARK MEANWHILE, DURING THE BOXER REBELLION... 漫画中的义和团历史 A review of Gene Luen Yang’s epic graphic novel Boxers & Saints, a 500-plus-page tale of one of the most tumultuous times in Chinese history: two kids, two faiths, and two viewpoints in a China torn asunder
76
SOCIAL CHINESE CCTV NEWSPEAK THE GREAT FAPIAO MYSTERY
CCTV在说什么？ 要张发票为什么这么难？
Get to grips the phrases Learn somewith Chinese pandering of to help youpropaganda beat the needlessly the China horrifyingly state-mediapointless, news complex, program that never seems and soul-crushingly futile fapiao to end system
1 EDITOR’S LETTER 卷首语
6 MISHMASH 多棱镜
8 WEIBO WHACK 微亦足道
11 STREET TALK 街头俚语
24 MADE IN CHINA 中国制造
54 SAVING CHINA 美丽中国
74 OBJECTIFIED 杂货铺
84 CHI LE MA farm)
吃了吗
62
对话先锋
ON THE ROAD
TEATOPIA 武夷山野生茶园之旅
Photographs
by meng qingchun
(paper),
cai yi
(tea
90 PIONEER
Ginger Huang travels deep into Fujian Province to find a world like no other; for her hosts, hard work is their creed and tea is their religion
92 ON THE CHARACTER 魅力汉字
94 AGONY AYI 麻烦阿姨
96 COMICS 酷漫
WANT MORE LIKE THIS?
80 ZOETROPE AS THE LIGHT GOES OUT 《救火英雄》 Terence Hsieh critiques Derek Kwok’s firefighter blockbuster As the Light Goes Out in a look at what Hong Kong disaster movies have to offer
Issue 4 /2014
You can find more written, visual, and audio content on our website, theworldofchinese.com, which is updated daily with recipes, travel tales, language lessons, and more!
5
MISHMASH
BEST SHOPLIFTER EVER? A middle-aged woman was arrested in June for shoplifting at a Walmart in Fuzhou. She almost made it out the door when a supermarket staff member stopped her, having noticed that she had smuggled pork tripe, clams, and cantaloupe in her bra. The clerks would have let her go if she paid, but the woman refused, claiming she didn’t have enough money. Her stalling gave the clerks enough time to notice that her butt was a little too round for her body. When asked, she pulled out a bag of iced calamari and a fish that was, allegedly, still alive. It was later discovered that this woman was a professional (or at least very experienced) shoplifter. Small hooks were sewn onto her undergarments for her to hang various products, hedging her bets that no one would bother to check. - WEIJING ZHU (祝伟婧)
THE EAST IS RISING “The East is Rising” isn’t some Eastern plot for world domination. Not unless it’s in the area of international prophylactic market share. They are, in fact, a group of university students who are unsettled by the state of condoms today. Size was noted as a particular cause for concern. “Current condoms on the market are relatively small in terms of coverage area, and accordingly have lower efficacy in preventing disease,” the students noted anxiously. Months of labor subsequently saw the team unveil the “Guardian Angel of Love”. To describe it merely as a “condom” would not do it justice. The inventors themselves describe it as a “pant-style prophylactic”. If that’s confusing, then let’s just say it looks like a pair of Y-fronts with a condom attachment seated on the front. That’s not totally accurate, though. There is a diagram which we will not reproduce here for reasons of discretion, but make no mistake, this will offer comprehensive protection to the entire groin area. The blueprint is highly detailed, and points out features such as vertical streaks on the body of the condom itself, as well as its anti-skidding microcapsules. Choice of lubricant has also been clearly thought out, and TCM herbs have been incorporated into the mix that the six students have devised. - TONY HAN (韩欢平)
6
THE FAT BLACK SWAN INCIDENT Pigs still can’t fly, but in a somewhat perverse flip-flop of that idiom, an overweight swan plummeted from the skies of Shanghai in early June because it was too fat to fly. A driver, surnamed Yu, was waiting to load up his car in Shanghai’s Qingpu District when a large clump of black fell from the sky, and right in front of his van. He got out of the car, and discovered that the unfortunate creature was a swan. A busy man during the day, Yu put the swan in his vehicle, taking it all over town as he continued working. On returning from work, Yu called the police who came and picked up the black swan and kept it in the police station while waiting for staff from Shanghai Wildlife Conservation Association to come to the rescue. The policemen complained to the reporter: “We even gave it vegetable leaves and water, but it’s very ferocious, so we had to be careful not to be pecked by it when feeding it.” The swan was eventually adopted by the Shanghai Zoo, whose experts claim it was originally a black swan from Australia that, in all likelihood, escaped from a nearby farm and fell to the ground because it was too fat to fly due to being raised in captivity. - W.Z.
BUILDING A MUSEUM A DAY Every city in China seems to want to show that it is modernizing and catching up with cities one tier above. Every city has or wants a CBD, and every city has or wants to build museums. Gong Liang, the director of Nanjing Museum, claims: “For the past three years, we (China) have been building museums at the speed of one per day.” As of the end of 2013, China had 4,165 museums, an increase of 299 compared to 2012. Professor Lu Jiansong from Fudan University has been researching this museum frenzy. According to national planning, China plans to have 6,000 museums by 2020. The problem, according to Professor Lu Jiansong, lies with the motives: “The government thinks museum construction is important...But, why build, how to build, and what to build are usually decided by the government or leaders, so (the museums) become decorations.” The high emphasis on appearance has turned the museum wave into a mine-is-bigger-than-yours competition, everyone seemingly wanting something bigger than what others have. For instance, the Wuxi Museum, constructed in 2007, was 71,000 square meters, even bigger than the Capital Museum. Some museums went for designs that were inappropriate for display, wasting a tremendous amount of space, and some designs were so nonsensical that they had to be demolished and started over. Lu says: “Some local museums are built exceptionally grand, but because they house no collections or display items, the museums were changed into shopping malls.” Even museums that successfully get up and running encounter financial issues down the line because most of the money went into constructing the building, leaving little to no support for collection and display. – W.Z.
Issue 4 /2014
7
ALL HAIL CCTV! Tragically, on May 28, in a McDonald’s in Zhaoyuan, Shandong Province, a woman was violently beaten to death by six members of the “Almighty God” cult, who believed her to be a devil. Three days later, CCTV’s Weibo feed released five tips on how to identify a cult and warned citizens to report them to the police: 1. A cult denounces all other beliefs and claims itself as the greatest; 2. It espouses its own infallibility via brainwashing and self-praise; 3. It profits from oppressing people; 4. It establishes a core network based on inside connections to ensure its own interests; 5. It espouses decent and noble things while undertaking dirty business.
kingze_C：我好像明白了什么。 I feel like I just realized something.
崔永元：很准确。 Very accurate.
琢磨先生：哦，邪教是这样啊。 Ah, so that’s what a “cult” looks like…
正能量教授：这……这……中央电视台真这么说 的？ Did…did…CCTV really just say that?
改之改之改：我夜观天象，楼主这是要被封号 啊。 I studied the stars last night and think that this Weibo account is going to be frozen.
Yet somehow these descriptions reminded Weibo users of, well, you know… - GINGER HUANG (黄原竟)
GAOKAO GUARDIANS The gaokao (university entrance exam), considered to be the biggest event in every Chinese teenager’s life, seemed to rack the nerves of more parents than students this year. To silence any sounds disturbing their precious study machines (children), some parents took drastic, paranoid action, such as poisoning the frogs in the community pond, fighting with square dancing dama, putting a ban on toilet flushing, putting a stop to elevator usage, and even patrolling exam areas to stop traffic from making noise. – G.H.
DOG-MEAT MEET In Yulin, Guangxi Province, the locals have a tradition of eating dog meat June 21, when the local “Lychee and Dog Meat Festival” begins, over The city government said that the festival is not official and that the the eating of dog. Numerous animal rights advocates and dog lovers their more radical actions—such as breaking into restaurants by controversy. - G.H.
北京厨子：1. 我是动物保护主义者；2. 我也反对 微博上某些动保组织的极端行为；3. 我自己不 吃狗肉；4. 我鄙视吃狗肉；5. 别人扛着我的鄙 视非要吃我也没办法；6. 但是如果你竟然敢官 方搞狗肉节，老子就要砸你的牌子。 worthy-scorpio：说什么抵制狗肉节是不尊重 地方风俗，那些抓宠物狗去贩卖、屠宰的人 就尊重过宠物主人吗？现在多少被你们吃的 狗是拐宠物，强抢来的呢？据说还有食人族 呢，等他住你家隔壁，看你尊不尊重他的饮 食风俗。 它基金-爱及生灵：自古以来，其他动物是 无法取代猫狗对我们的陪伴意义的。人类文 明在前进，我们却退化到只剩下了口腹之 欲？任何生灵最终都可化作“肉”，被人类 煎烤烹之？
in summer. It is said that on 10,000 dogs are slaughtered. government cannot, by law, ban went to Yulin to protest. Some of force to rescue dogs—have caused
1. I am for animal rights; 2. I’m also against extremist animal rights organizations; 3. I don’t eat dogs; 4. I despise dog-eating; 5. I can’t help it if other people still choose to eat dogs despite my contempt; 6. But if you ever dare to hold an official dog meat festival, I’m going to rip your head off. Some claim that to boycott the dog meat festival is to disrespect local tradition, but have those who steal, sell, and kill pet dogs respected their owners? How many dogs have you eaten that were robbed? I heard that there are cannibals somewhere, but if you live next door to a cannibal, let’s see how well you respect his traditional diet. Since antiquity, no other species of animal could possibly replace cats and dogs in that they offer companionship to mankind. Human civilization is progressing, but are we to be degraded by mere gluttony? Are all living things on earth but “meat” to be fried, roasted, and stewed?
作家崔成浩：其实没什么可紧张的，制造那么大场面，反而打乱 了平常的生活模式，会更紧张。其实，你们只要想到一点，就不 紧张了，那就是，考上考不上，四年后都不一定找得到工作。真 心祝好运！
In fact, there is nothing to be nervous about. Making such a fuss about everything only disrupts the daily routine and creates more tension. Here’s one thing that will calm you down: four years later you may not be able to find a job anyway, with or without going to university. Good luck!
西门不暗：终于要看到高考生家长和广场舞大妈两大不讲理团体 进行历史性的对决了。
Finally, I am going to see the grand duel between the two most unreasonable communities—the gaokao examinees’ parents and square dancing dama.
洪晃ilook：一个国家的制度让国民变得自私得离谱，这是个好 制度吗？ 请叫我成广大人：就是因为这些家长，孩子才会感觉到巨大的压 力，因此才导致考不好的学生有自杀的倾向。
Issue 4 /2014
Can a system that turned the people so grotesquely selfish be called a good system? These parents are the very source of the children’s huge pressure. They are the reason the students who fail their gaokao become suicidal.
STREET TALK
Illustration
by
Tang Huiqin
W
NO ZUO NO DIE
e have all met them. That certain type of woman who is never quite happy with what she has and is a little bit too high maintenance, though claims she is modern, easy-going, and carefree. She is, of course, not. She is a little bit less knowing than she purports to be and constantly brings trouble upon herself. Diane Chambers from Cheers is one, the Sex and the City girls are others. Hell, this type of women is by no means new, even poor Lizzy Bennet from Pride and Prejudice fits the bill. We are talking about the 作女 (zu4n)), a type of women who constantly 折腾 (zh8teng, give themselves self-inflicted hassle). They consider themselves strong and independent, yet they are masters at manipulating and conspiring; they aspire to be mature, yet they are whimsical, unpredictable, and inclined to temper tantrums. Taken from the Shanghai dialect, zuonü is now in widespread usage, all thanks to Zhang Kangkang’s (张抗 抗) novel of the same name, which centers on a young Shanghainese woman. If someone calls you 作 (zu4), don’t be fooled. You are not being called fake, as in 做作 (zu7zuo). You are being called zuo, because you ask for unnecessary trouble and constantly have karma come around and bite you on the ass. If you encounter a zuonü, cross your fingers and hope that her capricious whims are at an early stage: things are likely to get worse. There are, as you can imagine, myriad types of zuonü. In the early stages, the zuonü most likely suffers from 公主病 (g4ngzh^b#ng, princess syndrome) and is prone to act like a princess, except she lacks the virtues and credentials that go hand in hand with such nobility. After fighting with her boyfriend she shrewishly yells, “We are done, I will never see you again,” as she petulantly stamps her foot. Ten minutes later, of course, she bangs on his door, “Why did you not beg for my forgiveness with a bouquet of flowers?” Then there are the 文艺女 (w9ny#n)), those soul-searching Issue 4 /2014
artsy types who jet off to India to find themselves or to get over their last man. While she is there, though, she hopelessly falls for another brooding douche, which doesn’t work out; the tears flow, the soul-searching continues, and the cycle never ends. The zuonü are by no means all fools though. Some know how to take advantage of their talents and have a firm eye for male weakness. They know that zuo cannot be a life choice, yet by mastering the art of throwing a temper tantrum (发脾气 f` p!q#), or being coquettish (撒娇 s`ji`o) to just the right degree, they get their men to do just about anything they want, the blind fools not even realizing they are being ordered around. However, most zuonü are not so skilled, and being zuo is something they just can’t help. They just end up torturing their lovers and bringing trouble on themselves. 作死 (zu4s@) is not only an act found amongst women; many an idiot man has said stupid things that, no matter their intention, cause them misery. Thus, 作 is often combined with 死 (die) to form 作 死, which gave form to popular slang saying “no zuo no die”, a phrase that has even made it into that most august of institutions, the Urban Dictionary. Take the man, for instance, who foolishly asks his wife, “Who would you save if your father and I fell into a river?” His wife swiftly slaps him, while adding, “How dare you wish for my father’s death.” “No zuo no die” played to perfection. The best advice you can give to these men and women whatever they brought-on themselves—be it unwanted pregnancy, miserable break-ups, job dismissals, or sentimental heartbreak—is: 别作了! (Bi9 zu4 le! Stop zuo!). There’s even a delightfully Chinglishy rhyming couplet, much beloved of teenage girls, raging on the Internet, which perfectly captures the zuo predicament: “no zuo no die, why you cry, you try you die, don’t ask why.” And if that isn’t enough to boggle the mind, I don’t know what will. - WEIJING ZHU (祝伟婧) 11
DRAGON'S DIGEST
THE
GOLDFISH A tale of love and regret in the streets of Beijing 两只隔着玻璃对望的金鱼， 最终只属于自己的鱼缸
12
B
eijing had just recovered from a heavy local rainstorm. Weather reports showed clouds moving from Wangjing to Xizhimen, with heavy rain pouring from east to west, languidly leaving the city center behind. By evening, the city was clean—the nocturnal animals lurking but cautious of the moist streets. Zhou Min slept through the entire afternoon, waking at 6pm to eat a bowl of instant noodles and play a few rounds of games online. Completely unaware of the grand spectacle of the rainstorm, he was shocked by the flood at his door when he attempted to leave home. He planned to take a taxi; police had been strict about drunk driving recently, and some drinking would be inevitable tonight. But, in such a mess, there was no way he could get a cab. Even crossing the water to reach the street seemed impossible, so he returned to his own car in the parking lot. Inside Warm Stone Billiards Room, only a few tables were open. The largely vacant room felt like the cabin of a space shuttle. Every time he went, Zhou Min expected to see the door locked and a notice announcing the business was shut,
Huang Shuo by
Illustration
but it never happened. Perpetually listless men shot billiards as if they had been doing it since the dawn of time—completely undisturbed by the outside world. Yangpi had already turned up, along with a few mates whose faces Zhou Min couldn’t put names to. Most of them were Yangpi’s “clients”, who occasionally hung out for a bit of a change. Without much small talk, the group went straight to the table. Zhou Min was on an unlucky streak and fast became impatient and irritable. He was just about to make a critical shot when his phone rang—causing him to miss. He ditched the cue, cursed, and picked up the phone. Tian Mei’s voice was as loud as before: “What’s up? Are we supposed to meet or something? Where are you?” “I can’t leave the table. I just lost a game and have to win it back.” Zhou Min’s excuse was obviously far from acceptable. Tian Mei snapped: “You know how rarely Xia Wei comes to visit. We all have to be there! Pick you up in 30 minutes. We know where you are, don’t move!” She hung up. Zhou Min stuffed the phone in his pocket and went on with the next round. Still bad luck, no matter how hard he tried. Yangpi leaned over and asked: “Trouble?” “All crap,” he answered absently. The other men stared stoically at the pool table, turning a deaf ear to everything else. A few rounds later, the room remained silent. Zhou Min lost again without surprise, and he threw the cue even further and swore. Yangpi passed him a lit cigarette, but his first puff was interrupted by a noise at the door. Tian Mei burst in and screamed his name: “Zhou Min!” She was followed by Guo Rui, who paced slowly, twiddling his car keys. Behind him was Xia Wei. Xia Wei was on her tiptoes, gingerly holding her small shoulder bag. Her thin, long legs made her steps unstable. She was gone for two years but hadn’t changed very much except her hair—straight to curly. She politely greeted all the others who were buried in their games; they only occasionally lifted their eyes in response. Finally, she turned to Zhou Min and said: “Hi.” Zhou Min replied: “Hi what? How are we ‘high’?” But Xia Wei was unaffected, still smiling. He remembered her crying on that fateful day two years ago— weeping as he drove her to the airport. They had had an accident and were delayed for a long time. It didn’t seem like she would catch her plane. When he pulled out his phone to check the time, her tears began to fall. He grabbed a handful of tissues for her: “Easy there, just change your flight.” But the tears still ran down her face. He had to continue: “It’s only a wedding! A few hours late won’t change anything. The reception is tomorrow anyway. All you have to do today is some preparations. What’s the hurry?” “I am not crying for that!” she was almost yelling. In that moment, Zhou Min became totally silent, almost like he was shot through the car window. He knew why she was crying but couldn’t Issue 4 /2014
QIAO MAI 荞麦 Qiao Mai worked as a journalist before becoming a professional writer. Based in Nanjing, the 33-yearold writer mainly concentrates on metropolitan love stories from a female perspective. Her characters are mostly loners or outsiders, often deeply sensitive. Some critics have dismissed her work as “not serious enough” and overly sentimental, but Qiao Mai is still one of the most popular writers on Douban—a content sharing social media website with an extensive film, book, and music database. She has published five short story collections and novels since 2006.
YES, IT WAS HER EVERY TIME—EVERY SINGLE TIME, SOLVING A PROBLEM THAT HAD BEATEN THE BEIJING MEN 13
quite figure out his own feelings. All he could do was keep his foot on the accelerator. When they finally arrived, she pulled her giant suitcase with her and went in, her back shaking; he stood at the gate for a while and turned back. This parting was deeply engraved on his memory, and Zhou Min never expected to see her again. But there she was, smiling, like they had just met—like they’d better shake hands and talk about the weather. The four of them discussed where to grab a bite, and Tian Mei quickly started an argument with Guo Rui. She suggested Cantonese, and he wanted chuan’r instead. Xia Wei just stood there holding her bag while Zhou Min leaned on the wall, smoking. The dark and dim billiards room seemed like a movie set. For a moment, Zhou Min wanted to set up a camera and point to the crowd. Excepting Xia Wei, a Southerner who looked like a capable urban professional, the rest of them looked like a bunch of jobless floaters—which was not far from the truth: Tian Mei, Guo Rui, and Zhou Min were all in the photography business—working when there was work and idling when there wasn’t. Every now and then, they took jobs like documentaries, post-production of TV programs, movies, and web videos, whatever they could get. But, most of the time, they preferred being idle. Xia Wei, on the other hand, was an employee at a large advertising company in the South. She was a junior marketing specialist when they first met, now a mid-level manager in an international enterprise. Her smile was the same, but certainly, something in her had changed. She was definitely more confident than two years ago, Zhou Min observed, she even looked taller. He, on the other hand, had lost spirit and become less certain about what he wanted. Finally, Tian Mei and Guo Rui reached an agreement on a famous chuan’r area, taking the group to the car. Rumor had it that pop star Faye Wong had once graced the place with her presence, so they hurried to get a spot. Tian Mei took the front passenger seat. Zhou Min and Xia Wei took the back seats and got in from different sides. Zhou Min told Yangpi to drive his car back to his apartment, and Yangpi waved back in acknowledgement. “How’s Yangpi’s business lately?” asked Guo Rui. “What do you think? It’s the business of gambling on soccer,” he grumbled, and sensed that Xia Wei had turned around to glare at him. “You are not in on it, are you? It’s not much fun,” Guo Rui asked again. Zhou Min didn’t answer. He
14
opened the window and lit a cigarette. Xia Wei opened her side of the window as well. The moist ground had begun to turn dry. Rainfall in the north seemed to penetrate the earth and go straight into the planet. On hearing Guo Rui’s question, Xia Wei unconsciously tensed up, like a cat suddenly ruffled. Zhou Min couldn’t bear to see her like that. He gave in and replied: “No way, couldn’t even if I wanted to. Short of money lately.” Tian Mei chipped in: “Good, all these years, you finally learned to turn from that wrong path.” Xia Wei seemed to be relieved, and closed the car window for no reason. It had been a while since they were all together, but almost all his friends started lecturing him. Zhou Min was slightly annoyed, but he got used to it. Everyone wanted to harangue him, and everyone believed he was incorrigible. Only Xia Wei remained silent. He remembered that she once lent him money to repay his gambling debts. Both of them loved Arsenal, and he lost every penny betting on them. “Think of it as a gesture for Arsenal,” she said. Even when she handed the envelope to him, she smiled. That summer two years ago seemed sweltering and hopeless. Xia Wei came to Beijing for an ad project and needed to hire local crew for post production. She used a friend to find Tian Mei—who then brought Guo Rui and Zhou Min into the mix; Tian Mei told the two, “We have a job! With pay! And a pretty girl to hang out with too!” Xia Wei treated them to a dinner in a Hunan restaurant and 15 beers. Gui Rui said: “It will be done in two weeks!” It turned out to be two months. During the latter half, everyone gathered in a rented studio surrounded by editing equipment. The group started to spout complaints and criticize each other—the only exception being Xia Wei, who actually had the most reason to complain. She smiled and bought them meals and drinks on her own dime. Though pressure kept coming from the company, she refused to blame the crew. She was around 27, about 45kg and 160cm tall. What kind of power did she—a thin, southern girl—have to stay so calm? The answer was soon revealed by Tian Mei: she was about to get married. That was why she was always in high spirits. She just wanted to finish the project and go back home, and she didn’t want to spoil things by arguing with the crew. Zhou Min, intuitively, didn’t buy it. He believed it to be her personality, not a simple wedding, but he kept silent.
One evening, smoking on the rooftop alone, he heard someone approaching and turned. Xia Wei looked even more soft and serene in the fine night light, almost like a form of life he had never seen before. The four of them worked overtime for days and got less than 10 hours of sleep the whole time. His sense of time was in total disorder. He didn’t want to smoke in the studio because of the two girls and went to the rooftop for a cigarette now and then. In this, he was oddly considerate, but in larger matters, he always followed his own inclinations. His life was a mess back then; sleep deprivation only made the situation worse. She stood there on the rooftop with him, looking around. Beijing’s air pollution was dreadful; no stars were visible, and only a crescent moon hung pathetically near the skyline. She asked if something was troubling him. Her tone was like an elementary school teacher speaking to a pupil. For no reason, he was indignant: “What’s the point of telling you?” She stared at him, speechless. He added loudly: “What do you know? A girl with an easy life! ” “I just want to get to know you. What’s so strange about that? You are curious about other people, aren’t you? You want to learn things about them and how they become the person they are.” “No! I couldn’t care less about other people!” Zhou Min said. He continued with his smoking but became oddly afraid. He could never figure out what women were thinking about or what on earth they wanted. The two stood under the crescent moon in silence. After a while, Zhou Min softened and said: “I read a comic when I was a child, and I’ve remembered it ever since. There were two goldfish living in separate bowls. Both envied the other bowl and often pressed against the glass, staring…” He was half way through when he suddenly lost his point. He paused, threw away the cigarette and went downstairs. The car pulled over at the chuan’r place which only had one table left. They had just sat down when the owner in front of the grill shouted gruffly: “Don’t bother sitting down! We’re sold out. What are you going to eat at that table?” Ill at ease, the four got back on their feet. Zhou Min snapped: “What kind of attitude is that? Are you high or something?” The owner took offense and began swearing. With a handful of half cooked chuan’r, he looked like he was about to charge at them. Customers who were anxiously waiting for their food hurried to take the owner’s side: “Hey, young man, don’t be so touchy!” Zhou Min became
Issue 4 /2014
more agitated. He decided to teach the owner a lesson and prepared to face him down. At that moment, Xia Wei lightly tugged his shirt and whispered in his ear: “Give it a rest, let’s go.” Just like that, he turned around, following her footsteps without hesitation or a single look back. The four of them got in a car and resumed their evening without a destination. The lights by the Third Ring Road were all lit. They clustered together like an alien space ship was about to touch down. Two years had passed, but as soon as they reunited, the clock seemed to turn back to those chaotic times. Then, they spent most of their evenings driving on a ring road for a random bite at night. Tian Mei was always energetic and optimistic; Guo Rui was mostly reticent; Zhou Min was often smoking with a gloomy expression; and Xia Wei always sounded gentle and peaceful. For countless nights, they were like the only surviving soldiers on a battlefield, waiting for the enemy’s next attack. Despair somehow turned to optimism. The company headquarters urged them on with orders and threats. However, for a creative project like this, it was no use rushing them, and they needed to familiarize themselves with the project. Xia Wei often reassured HQ: “It will be finished soon!” But the project dragged on. Accidents abounded: glitches with the machine, storage problems—the project was overturned a few times and they had to start over again and again. Once, a single computer crash cost them a day of work. They sat there transfixed. Xia Wei said: “The four of us are all down on our luck, and we worked together, which made it worse; that must be it.” Tian Mei and Guo Rui all nodded in agreement. Zhou Min, on the other hand, was more than clear on how unlucky he had been lately and didn’t even bother to nod. “How did we finish all that crap? I don’t even remember, only that the studio always came calling. They even held our tapes hostage. That was the most
SHE GAZED AT ZHOU MIN, HER EYES TWO BOTTOMLESS LAKES. THIS TIME, ZHOU MIN WAS COMPLETELY CLEAR ABOUT HIS FEELINGS, BUT THERE WAS ONLY HEARTBREAK LEFT, NOTHING ELSE. 15
terrible year I ever had,” Tian Mei said, speaking just as fast as ever. “Xia Wei paid them with her own money to get the tapes; she paid us for the project, too,” Guo Rui remembered. Yes, it was her every time—every single time, solving a problem that had beaten the Beijing men. Zhou Min almost smashed the studio door, but it was Xia Wei who saved the day. In his city, a southern, young brideto-be fixed all the problems. Occasionally, he would hear Tian Mei ask Xia Wei: “What does your fiance do?” She seemed to be reluctant but replied lightly, “He works in a bank.” Tian Mei was curious and threw out another question: “How did you meet?” She answered tersely: “Blind date.” Tian Mei still wouldn’t let the topic slide: “How long have you been together?” Xia Wei seemed to miss the question; she turned to Zhou Min and asked: “Do you need some rest? The bags under your eyes are ink black. ” Tian Mei and Guo Rui knew they were close but had no idea when it started. All of a sudden, people started to notice the affection between the two. Maybe it started when Xia Wei brought Zhou Min coffee in the morning. She even bought him a pair of jeans and a pair of shoes. It seemed normal at the time—it was his birthday and he had a hole on his old trousers. It still seemed intimate, which made Tian Mei and Guo Rui wary, withholding their jokes. The car arrived at Guijie and they started to discuss what to eat once again. Guo Rui suggested Sichuan food and Tian Mei agreed, but Zhou Min shook his head and said, “too spicy.” “But you like spicy food,” as soon as she said it, Tian Mei recalled that it was Xia Wei who couldn’t hold her spice. Back in the day, even at a Hunan restaurant, she ordered bland noodles. When it came to Zhou Min’s turn to get takeout, all the dishes were bland and Tian Mei had to store a jar of spicy sauce in the studio. Xia Wei made the final call, “I remember a 24-hour tea house, how about there?” So, they headed for Guomao. However, after they stopped at a red light, the engine broke down. Guo Rui cursed and managed to start the car, but as soon as they were off the ring road, the engine shut off and wouldn’t start again. “Disaster strikes every time the four of us are together,” Guo Rui threw his hands in the air in frustration. With dismay, he and Tian Mei began to check on the car. Zhou Min squatted near the car and pulled out a cigarette. Xia Wei got down as well and asked for one. Surprised, he asked, “When did you pick up smoking?” 16
Xia Wei didn’t reply and lit the cigarette. In that moment, he felt that he no longer knew her. How long had she been smoking? It changed her into a stranger, as if the second she picked up a cigarette she summoned an alter ego—a woman smoking in a lonesome corner, with an unknown past behind her. Such a woman is at odds with the girl who coughed at the faintest scent of smoke in the past. He had an urge to grab her and get everything out of her—how she lived over the past two years, how she became what she was today, step by step, and how she could just stand there in front of him, smiling. A year after their separation, the two made contact once more, something Tian Mei and Guo Rui were not aware of. One early morning, he got a phone call from Xia Wei. She was crying, long, slow sobs. He was not yet fully awake, lifting his eyes to the clock—a little past three. In the dark, only the illuminated second hand crawled lazily. The two bowls of goldfish suddenly returned to his mind. There were several goldfish in each bowl. Under the sunshine, they stared at the other bowl, curious, mesmerized and full of yearning. She and he were two goldfish living in different bowls. When he came back to his senses, she had stopped crying. “Good night,” she said. “Good night,” he said. Stuck, the four of them resorted to drinking beer, which Guo Rui had stored at his trunk, on the roadside. A party suitable for four unfortunate people—the thought surprisingly relaxed them and they began to drink as much as possible. Guo Rui surprised everyone when he said, “You two, were you guys ever dating behind our backs?” He must have been very curious for a long time; too much alcohol didn’t help. Neither replied. The silence lasted for about half a minute before Xia Wei suddenly slapped Zhou Min on the shoulder and asked: “Did we ever go out?” Zhou Min almost lost his balance and fell to the ground. He paused for a while and said: “Maybe.” Tian Mei and Guo Rui jeered: “Maybe? What does that mean?” Xia Wei was laughing hysterically. She couldn’t stop. Then she shook her head and said, “Maybe means no, right? Isn’t that what you mean?” She gazed at Zhou Min, her eyes two bottomless lakes. This time, Zhou Min was completely clear about his feelings, but there was only heartbreak left, nothing else. If there was ever anything, it was gone.
Once, two years ago, he was driving her back to her hotel. She was too tired and fell asleep half way, a thread of hair dangling on her face. All the way, he wanted to brush it back. The idea was like a bug crawling in his mind, making him anxious and restless. He lifted his hand several times at red lights and put it down several times—as if such gesture meant something when in fact it meant nothing. At last, when he finally gathered the courage to extend his hand, she awoke. She brushed that thread of hair back behind her ear, her hair glowing under the golden sunshine, eyes still sleepy. She looked at him and raised her hand, lightly touched his chin and said, “a scratch, cut yourself shaving?” That wound seemed to still be there, the very place she touched him. The four sat there immersed in their memories. The night in Beijing is never dark enough, as if it could wake up at any moment. Reunited with friends unimportant to daily life and light-headed under the effect of alcohol, it was as if any question could be asked. Tian Mei asked Xia Wei: “How’s married life? Happy?” Xia Wei remained silent, and the time between the question and answer seemed endless. Finally, she spread her hands as if throwing away something and said: “Okay, to tell you the truth, I got divorced more than six months ago.” The three of them exchanged confused glances. How on earth could Xia Wei get a divorce? Xia Wei, undoubtedly, would be a good wife. She seemed to be born a good wife, always far from any selfindulgences—albeit the small dalliance of falling for a debauched idler in Beijing. Everyone could see it on her face, but nothing happened. Tian Mei and Guo Rui turned to Zhou Min, as if expecting him to save them from the dead silence. But Zhou Min couldn’t utter a sentence, not a single word. In the early morning, they decided to put an end to the torment. Everyone sensed that their conversation could lead to a disastrous end, so they hurried to flee. The two audience members didn’t want to fuel the fire, even Xia Wei and Zhou Min themselves were eager to leave. It was a crime scene where one of them had revealed too much and found their backs against the wall. The mist that provided a sense of safety dispersed and was exposed by the night where inhibitions do not exist—where people become their own obstacles. They slowly rose to say their goodbyes. As they Issue 4 /2014
each tried to get a taxi, they knew in their hearts this parting would be for a very long time; the more time passes, the less relevant any reunion becomes. To Zhou Min, it seemed as though there was no one in the world he cared to see. Hungry again, Zhou Min made himself another bowl of instant noodles and swallowed the tasteless food when Yangpi called: “There’s a soccer game later, wanna come?” “Pass,” he said and hung up. A few minutes later the phone rang again. He picked up and said, “I said pass, it’s not much fun.” He heard a gentle sigh and realized it wasn’t Yangpi. He pulled the phone away and checked the screen, it was Xia Wei. “What is not much fun?” She asked. He wanted to explain but didn’t know what to say. Over the past two years, he contemplated what kind of man he really was, what kind of life he was living—all with no answers. Gradually, he became tame, ordinary, and safe. He recalled the two bowls of goldfish once again— two bowls of goldfish envying one another’s lives. One day, they finally leapt up in the air and threw themselves into the other bowl. The result? They just exchanged bowls and ended up in the exact same situation, staring at the other party in envy; nothing changed, everything an illusion. The fish were not wrong, neither were the two people. Two layers of thin glass stymied them; that was how vulnerable they were. “Goldfish,” he heard himself mumble. The hour hand coldly pointed to three o’ clock, just like last time—a predicament without obstacles, a giant unknown number, or it was himself, hanging there, blocking and isolating everything from everything. He couldn’t figure out what Xia Wei said on the other end of the phone, or, perhaps, she said nothing. Then the phone disconnected, leaving only the empty pips. - TRANSLATED BY LIU JUE (刘珏)
Author’s Note: “The Goldfish” is about a man and a woman in different circumstances. They developed subtle feelings and were drawn to each other. A few years later, when they were reunited, it seems that they had somehow switched circumstances, but they still belong to two different “fish bowls”. This is one of my early pieces. It’s naïve, but I still like it for its pure and simple emotions.
17
PAPER PEOPLE
PHOTOGRAPHS BY MENG QINGCHUN (孟庆春) TEXT BY LIU JUE (刘珏)
A look into the process and culture of caozhi paper making 山村里的古法造纸技艺
T
he villages of Shuidong (水东村) and Dengcun (邓村) in the mountains of Guangdong Province are something of a rarity in this highly industrialized province crammed with thousands of factories. They are among the few workshops that still make bamboo paper by hand—producing caozhi (草纸), literally “rough paper”. Yellow and coarse, caozhi is mainly used to make “ghost money”, the paper money burned in Chinese ritual sacrifices to ancestors, as well as the inner wrappings for fireworks. While many of the younger men have fled to higher-paying, modern factories, such as Foxconn, the senior workers remain, plying their craft in the ancient village workshops. It is a hard business; over 20 of the procedures involve heavy labor, and it is back-breaking work. If it weren’t for the next-to-nothing raw materials cost, the whole business would have certainly died out long ago; fortunately, it survives today. With bamboo, water, lime, and a great deal of manpower, the whole process hasn’t changed much since the invention of paper itself. Now seen as a significant piece of cultural heritage, the workshop in Dengcun attracts both the attention of tourists and the local government. With government subsidies alongside tourism, it seems this not so delicate craft will be able to survive, and the paper can continue to be made in the same fashion it always has. The smaller and much more primitive Shuidong Village, on the other hand, has not had the same luck, and two workshops closed in 2013. So, it’s important to record and preserve these villages for posterity, a reminder of both the beauty and hardship of simpler times. 18
KALEIDOSCOPE
Issue 4 /2014
19
YOUNG BAMBOO IS COLLECTED AND DRIED UNDER THE SUN BEFORE BEING IMMERSED IN A LIME TANK FOR AS LONG AS FOUR MONTHS (TOP). WHEN SOFTENED, IT IS TAKEN OUT TO BE REPEATEDLY DRIED AND WASHED, WHICH WEAKENS THE STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY (MIDDLE), AND THEY ARE THEN SMASHED IN A MORTAR POWERED BY WATER (BOTTOM). 20
A DOUBLE-LAYERED STRAINER IS USED TO FILTER THE BAMBOO FIBER, WHICH WILL LATER TURN INTO PAPER
Issue 4 /2014
21
A WORKER CAREFULLY LIFTS A LAYER OF BAMBOO FIBER, THE PROTOTYPE FOR A PIECE OF BAMBOO PAPER, TO DRAIN
22
AN EXPERIENCED SENIOR WORKER CUTTING BAMBOO PAPER TO PREVENT STICKING
AS A FINAL STEP, THE BAMBOO PAPER IS LEFT OUT IN THE SUN TO DRY SLOWLY
Issue 4 /2014
23
MADE IN CHINA
I
WHAT’S YOUR POISON?
f you want someone dead but don’t want to get caught, poison is the way to go. Or, maybe you just want someone to die painfully and slowly—again, poison’s your weapon. The world recently watched King Joffrey Baratheon’s death via a poison known as “The Strangler” on HBO’s Game of Thrones, but China has long had its own legendary poisons to dish out. A chapter on poisoning in the Song Dynasty (960-1279) book Instructions to Coroners (《洗冤录》) by Song Ci (宋慈), the founding father of forensic science in China, begins, “For those who die of poisoning, their orifices open, their face turns greenish black or green, their lips go purplish green, their nails appear dark green, and blood spews out of their mouth, eyes, ears, and nose.” A grim fate indeed. Masters of conspiracy, assassins, and usurpers, the ancient Chinese excelled in the discovery, use, and cure of poisons, some familiar to us today and some with names that chill the blood, including lethal poisons such as arsenic (砒霜), intestine-rupturing herb (断肠草), crane’s red crown (鹤顶红), and three-laugh death powder (三笑逍遥散). Arsenic, the king of poisons, is perhaps one of the few toxins that transcends time, national borders, and social class. A favorite of the Romans and Europeans in the middle ages, arsenic was a classic in ancient China as well. It was the poison of choice when the famous wanton Pan Jinlian (潘金莲) and her adulterer decided to murder her husband in the Outlaws of the Marsh. It also brought death to China’s penultimate Emperor Guangxu (光绪 帝), though the cause of death was not confirmed until 2008, 100 years after the emperor’s face turned blue at the age of 37. To this day, the murderer of Guangxu remains somewhat of a mystery; arsenic is colorless, odorless, tasteless, and is difficult to detect. Throughout Chinese history, as often depicted on TV shows, the Chinese believed in a not-so-foolproof method to test for poisoning, involving the poking of a silver needle into food, drinks, or bodies. As Song Ci instructs: “To confirm that poisoning has taken place, a silver needle that has been scrubbed in soapy water should be stuck into the victim’s mouth. If the needle turns a blackish color that cannot be washed off, then poisoning can be 24
Illustration
by
TANG H U I Q I N
“IF THE NEEDLE TURNS A BLACKISH COLOR THAT CANNOT BE WASHED OFF, THEN POISONING CAN BE CONFIRMED”
confirmed.” However, modern science tells a different story. It appears that the only reason the silver needle worked occasionally with arsenic was due to the crude methods used to make arsenic; sulfide commonly existed alongside arsenic minerals in nature, which can turn silver black. Aside from minerals, plants were readily available as alternatives. Given the Chinese’s obsession with and knowledge of herbal medicine, the appropriation of herbs as secret weapons is easy to understand. Shennong (神农)—the ancestor and legendary ruler of pre-dynastic China, discoverer of different qualities of herbs, and the father of Chinese medicine—died of the toxic intestine-rupturing herb. Although it sounds like a specific type of plant, it is, in fact, the name used for a variety of lethal plants from different parts of China. In some surprising, mythical cases, poison can cure as well as kill. One of most well-known examples of “counteracting one poison with another” (以毒攻毒) is perhaps an incident in the wuxia novel The Legend of Condor Heroes by Jin Yong, where the datura poisoned protagonist is saved by taking a horrifying and lethal intestine-rupturing herb. Among the many bloodcurdling varieties of the “intestine-rupturing” family, one of the most toxic is hemlock (钩吻, gelsemium elegans). In 2011, a Chinese local official murdered a deputy of the National People’s Congress by putting this legendary poison in the man’s hot pot. In the beginning, the victim feels a burning in the throat, followed by vomiting and excruciating pain in the abdomen. Eventually, victims die of respiratory failure. 见血封喉, literally “meets blood and seals throat”, is another infamous poison and comes from the all too aptly named antiaris toxicaria tree. Once used on
Issue 4 /2014
arrowheads, when the poison meets an open wound or blood, it brings a near instant death. Found in Yunnan and Hainan provinces, local people describe its effect: “Whoever’s infected with the poison can only take seven steps forward or eight steps back before death (七 上八下九倒地)”. But, poison isn’t just for traitors and schemers, it was also used as a “gift death” (赐死), in euthanasia, or to protect the honor of the soon-to-be deceased. One famous example is “China’s Nostradamus”, Liu Bowen (刘伯温), who was rumored to have been given a cup of poison wine from the founder of the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). Deemed a respectful way to die and a gift from the emperor, the doomed high-ranking official or concubine would be offered either the rope with which to hang themselves, the dagger with which to stab themselves, or a nice cup of poisonous wine. As the Chinese saying goes: “If his majesty wants my death, I have to die (君要臣死，臣不得不死).” The toxic contents of the imperial poisonous wine were usually, according to legend, the crane’s red crown, the poisonfeather bird zhen (鸩), or arsenic. Many now believe that crane’s red crown was merely a euphemism for arsenic, whereas the mythical poison of the zhen is pretty obviously an invention of Chinese legend. Described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (《山海经》), the zhen was a purple and green bird the size of a falcon, which fed on the heads of venomous snakes. Often referenced in myths, poetry, and literature, the word 鸩 later became synonymous with poison, as merely dipping its feathers in any liquor guaranteed the drinker’s death. Ancient texts record that these birds were hunted down and killed because the usage of zhen poison was too widespread and cruel. Other bewildering poisons, whose fame became widespread thanks to wuxia novels and TV shows, result in a cacophony of incredible symptoms. The three-laugh death powder, for instance, is rumored to be undetectable, and the victim dies after giving an eerie, sardonic grin three times. The legendary body-melting powder (化尸粉) works much like sulfuric acid, melting the body and clothes. However, even if these fantastical murder potions existed, their recipes have long since disappeared. The zhen birds may be mythical (or extinct), but arsenic, poison hemlock, and even nerium oleander passed through history and into legendary fame, ensuring many a horrifying death. It may not be as common as it once was, but be nice while you’re in China or you could end up part of China’s poison past. - WEIJING ZHU (祝伟婧)
25
N O I T A R MIG
A T A D
268,940,000 Rural Migrant Workers in 2013
INCOME Average monthly salary of a migrant worker
2,609 RMB
892 RMB 453 RMB
Average monthly expenses Average monthly cost of housing
INDUSTRIES
PERCENTAGE OF MIGRANT WORKERS’ WAGES IN ARREARS 2008—4.1% 2009—1.8% 2010—1.4% 2011—0.8% 2012—0.5% 2013—0.8%
41% of migrant workers work over 8 hours per day 85% of migrant workers work over 44 hours per week 26
32% Manufacturing 22% Construction 11% Wholesale and Retail 6% Logistics and Postal Service 6% Lodging and Catering 11% Residents’ service, Repair and other services 12% Other industries
INSURANCE 16% of migrant workers have participated in the pension insurance system 29% have safety insurance 18% have medical insurance
AVERAGE WORKING TIME 10 months per year 25.2 days per month 9 hours per day
Source: Migrant Workers Monitoring Survey Report of 2013, National Bureau of Statistics of PRC
BUYING CITIZENSHIP WITH INVESTMENTS AND JOBS Greece= € 250,000 Portugal= € 500,000 US= $500,000—1,000,000 and create 10 jobs
BOARDING SCHOOL FEES FOR CHINESE CHILDREN IN THE US: A YEAR APPROX.
32,000 USD
64%
of Chinese individuals with a personal wealth of over six million RMB expressed interest in emigrating
66% of
those say they would consider obtaining a foreign passport
51% of
China's super rich say they would prefer to emigrate to the US
8% of
China's super rich have placed more than 50% of their wealth overseas
21%
education TOP REASONS CHINA'S 20% pollution RICH WANT TO EMIGRATE 19% food safety
4,200
Chinese women gave birth in the US in 2008
10,000+
Chinese women gave birth in the US in 2012
Issue 4 /2014
Source: Immigration and Chinese High Net Worth Individuals 2014, released by the Hurun Report in conjunction with Visas Consulting Group
27