The World of Chinese, 2014 Issue 6: Influential Chinese by The World of Chinese Magazine

6/2014

China’s Big Cheeses, Mining Mess, Domestic Disorder, and Self-help

ou can’t open a newspaper or turn on a TV in China without hearing about the rise of China, but, it’s easy to forget that China is a changed nation where successes aren’t simply dictated by the central authorities anymore. Today, there are any number of Chinese citizens changing the world in constructive and fascinating ways— scientists, entrepreneurs, journalists, activists, and so many more. This issue, we discuss six very special Chinese personalities that have helped shape the modern world and how people think about the Middle Kingdom (see page 28). There’s Wu Changhua, helping to put actions to climate change grandstanding; there’s the famous Jack Ma and his Alibaba empire; there’s Wang Jianlin, China’s property king; there’s Chen Guangbiao, the clown prince of Chinese philanthropy; there’s journalist Hu Shuli, dubbed China’s most dangerous woman; and there’s scientist Yuan Longping, whose contribution to the human race has been almost indescribably important. All of these people have made—or are going to make—essential contributions to society at large and as such play a role in how the world sees China and how China sees itself. Besides that, we have a wealth of interesting features for you to enjoy this issue, including a fascinating piece on gold mining in China (see page 42). Few industries in China have seen the rapid expansion that gold mining has experienced, and the rapid expansion has led to the nation becoming the world’s premier producer and consumer of gold. But, China’s insatiable cultural lust for gold comes at a price. Mining is a dangerous business, a business where one of the most stable and safe chemicals used for micro-gold collection is one of the most dangerous poisons in the world. Everything from cyanide to mercury plays a role, but, for now, it’s a price China is willing to pay—all for that cool, sweet luster of gold. In “Violence on the Home Front” (see page 36), Carlos Ottery takes a look at domestic violence in China and how both the concept and legislation surrounding this horrific act has changed over the years. Domestic violence is still frighteningly common, and there are few places women can turn for help. But, times are changing and China is changing with it; as activism and public awareness increase, the days of people sitting idly by may soon be at an end. Even though this problem can at times seem insurmountable, through the courage of brave women willing to speak out, hope shines through. Self-help books are a growing facet of a rapidly changing society, and perhaps in China more than anywhere on earth, self-help is booming. China is obsessed with wealth, status, and a burgeoning view of the self, so these types of books provide an outlet that is difficult to find elsewhere. Ginger Huang looks at how these books are changing minds and lives and why China is so obsessed with this type of literature in “Selling Self-Help” (see page 48). But, if you’re looking for a bit more culture, check out Bookmark (see page 84) to learn about an oft-overlooked Chinese masterpiece of literature where gods pit themselves against men, and one of the greatest dynasties in Chinese history is brought down by a dirty poem. If you’re craving science fiction rather than ancient literature, check out Dragon’s Digest (see page 12) for three very different sci-fi tales that will keep you guessing. If your cultural tastes lean toward the visual, check out Gallery (see page 58) for a look at work from artists Ye Funa and Ma Liang. For photography, satiate your sweet tooth with a look at how sugar is made (see page 18) or check out On the Road (see page 62) for a foodie’s journey to Chengdu. If you’re still hungry, move on over to Chi Le Ma (see page 82) to learn how to make some delectable fenzhengrou. This will be TWOC’s last issue this year, but we’ll be back in the new year with new columns, new writers, and new stories to tell. Keep up to date with us on theworldofchinese.com, and keep yourself warm.

Managing Editor Tyler Roney Issue 6 /2014

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6/2014 36 VIOLENCE ON

THE HOME FRONT

无处可逃的家暴受害者 Domestic violence is a horrific crime, but in China today there is little or no recourse for the millions of women who suffer; laws and attitudes need to adapt if there is any hope for change

黄金的代价 China is now in the midst of a modern day gold rush, the world’s premier producer and consumer of one of the planet’s most precious metals. But, all this gold comes at a price, a cost much higher than 7,600 an ounce.

48 SELLING

SELF-HELP 喝不腻的“鸡汤”

Get rich quick, attain enlightenment, get your life on the right track— China’s very recent fascination with self-help books is a booming industry, a business well suited to the nation’s new search for the self in the modern world

Issue 6 /2014

COVER STORY

28 CHARM OFFENSIVE 他们让中国在世界眼里有所不同 Entrepreneurs, philanthropists, scientists, activists, and journalists—a select few Chinese individuals are changing the way the modern world views the Middle Kingdom, and we take a look at six of them

GALLERY

MALEONN’S IMAGINARIUM 马良的魔幻剧场 Take a step in the surreal, discombobulating, and imaginative world of the artist Ma Liang, whose spellbinding works have been influenced by everything from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream to Goethe’s Faust

DRAGON’S DIGEST

THE COLD, THE FLIER, AND FLAME STORM 《冷》《飞翔》和《火焰风暴》 Three excellent stories from established sci-fi author Chi Hui—one on a planet of ice, one on a planet on fire, and one where the human race dreams of flight against the wishes of aggressive, legalistic alien overlords

THE SACCHARINE SOUTH 熬红糖的季节

From the wise old mixers to the young gathering sugarcane in the fields, an entire village engages in backbreaking work to sate their sweet tooth using methods that haven't changed for hundreds of years

8 6GROUP THINK

TIME TO GO COSER

SAVING CHINA CHINA'S ILLEGAL TIMBER ADDICTION

COSPLAY玩家：幻想还是现实？

买红木家具时，我们失去的是森林

Cosplayers get a bad rap sometimes, but this growing culture is becoming more popular every year. So, grab your makeup bag and get ready to geek out with some very enthusiastic youngsters on the cosplay scene.

With China’s forests depleted, the Middle Kingdom has turned its eyes on the forests of the world, and some very precious species of tree are paying the price for China’s addiction to high-quality timber

CCTV在说什么？怎样像外交官一样说话

SOCIAL CHINESE CCTV NEWSPEAK DIPLOMAT DIALECT

Get toyou grips with the Have recently “hurt the Chinese pandering propaganda of people’s feelings” or incurred “strong the China state-media news from condemnation and opposition” program thatauthorities? never seems the Chinese Well, it’s to end kind of hard to avoid. Check out this tongue-in-cheek cipher for Foreign Ministry bloviating.

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

72 OBJECTIFIED 杂货铺

78 ZOETROPE 视听空间

82 CHI LE MA house

)

吃了吗

Photographs

by meng qingchun

(suger

making)

ginger huang

(tea

88 PIONEER

62 ON THE ROAD

对话先锋

A FOODIE’S SPIRITUAL PILGRIMAGE

92 ON THE CHARACTER

Husband and wife lung slices, hot pot noodles, and an Arhat feast— Ginger Huang steps off the beaten track in Chengdu to savor delights in monasteries and alleyways during the Hungry Ghost Festival

96 COMICS

吃货的朝拜之旅

84 BOOKMARK GAME OF GODS 《封神演义》中的神魔世界 A quick look inside an often overlooked piece of classic Chinese literature, Creation of the Gods. Gods end dynasties, people become gods, and a war is fought for the future of China—this is must-read book for fans of Chinese legend and literature

Issue 6 /2014

魅力汉字

94 AGONY AYI 麻烦阿姨

酷漫

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MISHMASH

CARP CATASTROPHE TO CHINESE CHOW Americans have a problem in the form of carp, specifically the Asian carp. The invasive species is disastrously filling the Mississippi River’s ecosystem. However, these fish are dying out in China, largely because Chinese diners prefer them in a way Americans don’t. One company saw this need and is making an effort, mainly by selling one million pounds of Asian carp to China so far this year, capitalizing on the ecosystem disaster. Chinese media source Reference News attributed America’s conundrum to a lack of appreciation for freshwater fish and

knowledge on how to cook the Asian carp properly. Some locals have tried the Chinese style Asian carp and been pleasantly surprised. But, of course, it will be a long time before Americans indulge in the Asian carp enough to eliminate it. Incidentally, another species called the Chinese mitten crab (大闸蟹) is also endangering the water systems in North America and Europe, and they also happen to be a delicacy in Chinese cuisine. One country’s catastrophe, is another country’s treasure. - WEIJING ZHU

he “eventually ‘squeezed into’ a detention center”. But, who knows, maybe the Thief Diet will be the next big craze. - W.Z.

(祝伟婧)

FIT TO BE STOLEN Some lose weight to be healthier, some for the thigh gap, and others lose weight to steal. A man in his early 20s from a small town in Zhejiang Province discovered that restaurants in his town had particularly large openings in their windows. So, as you do, he went on a hardcore diet complete with rigorous exercise, so he could squeeze through the windows. He went veggie, ran ten kilometers a day, and eventually lost enough weight to commit the (near) perfect crime. From July to August, the man managed to squeeze through the windows and doors of multiple establishments and stole around 20,000 RMB in total. As China News reported, he easily stole from stores ten times in a month, but

APPLES FOR APPLES For sales manager Liu in Wuchang, his bonus last month turned out to be a little less grand than expected. It started with the attempt of Liu’s boss to motivate his employees by promising each of the sales team an “apple six” (Chinese colloquial lingo for the iPhone 6) if they met the sales goal of 300,000 RMB that month. Driven by the reward, Liu and his team far surpassed the benchmark. The next day, the team waited for their reward with excitement, only to be handed six apples, each with a big number “six” written on them. Their boss explained that it was a celebration for the joyous event, which also signified hopes for good fortune, and encouraged the team to continue bringing

in revenue for the company. Sadly, when Liu consulted a law firm, he found out that a verbal promise could not be taken as real evidence, nor could he prove that the “apple six” was supposed to be an “iPhone 6”. As everyone knows, there is no legal recourse for your boss just being a colossal bastard. - W.Z.

TRIPLE THE HUSBANDS, TRIPLE THE TROUBLE In TV shows, people maintain multiple identities and live different lives because they are spies, killers, or on the lam. For a Nanjing woman named Li Xue, the motive was much simpler. Li was married to her husband, Zhou Tong, for six years, having met online in 2008. The couple then moved in together, but Zhou was often away on business. This August, Zhou found a wedding picture of his wife and another man—along with unfamiliar clothes hidden deep in the closet. He eventually found the man, Liu Gang, who claimed to be married to one Zhang Juan, who turned out to be Li. Shocked at the news, Liu’s brother recalled the wife of a coworker, whose name was also Li Xue. The coworker turned out to be Li’s third husband, Chen Bing. Li was arrested on charge of bigamy. According to her confession, she started dating Chen first, who owns the apartment she lived in with her two other husbands. As the couple were waiting for Chen’s parents to agree to their marriage, Chen was too busy with work to stay with Li. This gave her the chance to dispel

Issue 6 /2014

her loneliness by meeting Zhou, marrying him, and inviting him to move in in 2008. However, Zhou was also often away. So, Li met Liu on a dating website and got married again in 2010 using a fake ID. As Zhou and Liu traveled a lot and Chen lived in the city center, Li was able to coordinate the three husbands’ schedules, rearrange the home before each of them arrived, switch wedding photos and clothes, and generally put on a whole new life. But, romantic to the last, she claims she didn’t do it for the money, saying her love for all three men was genuine.

There was less than 100 RMB in her wallet, but, fortunately, he had his POS device. So, he forced the lady to spill her password, swiped all of her six cards, and transferred 2,000 RMB into his own account. Unsatisfied, the man also made her write a note promising to wire 50,000 RMB more the next day under the threat of death. That same day, police arrested the culprit after the landlady reported the robbery. - W.Z.

- W.Z.

DON’T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT Hardly anyone carries cash anymore, and it’s a problem for the good ol’ fashioned business of mugging. A man living in Shenzhen tried to solve this problem by going hightech. The criminal was being pushed by loan sharks to pay back 100,000 RMB when he decided on a mark: a woman renting out her apartment online. After he followed her into her apartment, he put a knife to her throat and tied her up with phone cords.

SMOG AND SPORTS Beijing’s smog is getting worse than ever. In October, it was said to be too smoggy for even traffic surveillance cameras to catch red-light runners; that said, it wasn’t really the drivers’ fault because they couldn’t see the lights anyway. But a little smog doesn’t stop sports lovers in Beijing. People still bought tickets to the football match between Brazil and Argentina in the Bird’s Nest Stadium on October 11 despite not being able to see anything on the field. And, over 30,000 people participated in the 2014 Beijing Marathon on October 19, running in air with PM 2.5 over 400. - GINGER HUANG (黄原竟)

刘兴亮：梅西和内马尔在今晚的鸟巢将遭遇人生的最大挑战：球门在哪儿？对手在哪儿？裁判在哪儿？我在哪儿？关键是球在哪儿? Tonight in the Bird’s Nest Stadium, Lionel Messi and Neymar Júnior will be confronted with the biggest challenge in their career: Where is the goal? Where are the opponents? Where is the ref? Where am I? Most importantly, where is the ball?

台北县令：以后有雾霾就开一次马拉松，这么多移动空气净化器，一定会改善北京的空气质量的！

Whenever there’s a smoggy day, just hold a marathon race. With so many mobile air filters, Beijing’s air quality will be improved in no time!

陈楸帆：澳大利亚鲸群搁浅、北欧旅鼠跳崖、北京国际马拉松，并称为世界三大神秘自杀现象。

Whales stranded on the beach in Australia, lemmings in Northern Europe jumping off cliffs, and the international marathon race in Beijing are the world’s three most mysterious suicidal behaviors.

ALL THAT GLITTERS ISN’T GOLD When the word tuhao, the vulgar rich, first became popular, it exclusively referred to those who drive luxury cars and wear diamond high heels—or those who try to buy The New York Times. However, recently, a trend of satirically redefining tuhao began on Weibo and some commonly recognized new standards have been released for the betterment of society, and we can but hope it catches on. - G.H.

WE DON’T NEED Na(Cl) SALT DEPARTMENT On October 15, Mr. Huang, a noodle restaurant owner in Xinzheng, Henan Province, was fined 200 RMB and had his salt confiscated because he was found to be using salt he bought in a neighboring city, Zhengzhou. He was charged with “trans-regional salt usage”, according to the local Salt Management Bureau (which, yes, is apparently a thing). After the internet made sufficient fun of this ridiculous charge, the local salt bureau returned the fine to Mr. Huang and apologized. – G.H.

陈砺志：这是朝鲜的新闻吧！ Is this North Korean news?

袁国宝：跨区域用盐？俺河南人跑帝都那不是跨区域吸霾了？

“Trans-regional salt usage”? What about a Henan person goes to Beijing, would that be “trans-regional smog breathing”?

南都评论：听说除了食盐，另一个尚在专营的行当是烟草，同样也是多年难破垄断。我忽然想起，前不久刚从老家拎了几条烟回广州，不知是否已触犯相关条例？鄙人读书少，挺害怕的。望达人解答，在线等。

I heard that another commodity monopolized for many years is tobacco and suddenly recollected that I recently brought several packs of cigarettes to Guangzhou from my hometown. Have I violated any regulations? I’m not very educated, and I feel scared. Does anyone know? I’m waiting for the answer online.

洋葱日报社：iPad、iPhone越来越平民化，导致多地富二代学生抱怨难以炫富。然而，近来在浙江某中学， “扶老人”成为新一代炫富杀手锏，“我有钱，我敢扶”已是公认土豪标签。其中，初三的李龙因一月内连扶18位老人，赔款173万，公认为全校首富，众多女生疯狂追逐。

Kids from rich families all over China complain that it is so much harder to show off now that iPads and iPhones have become common. Recently, a new surefire way to flaunt wealth has been adopted by the rich kids in a middle school in Zhejiang Province: “Give old people a hand when they fall down”, “I am rich enough to risk the slander and blackmailing of the ungrateful”, these are the new tuhao standard. Li Long from the ninth grade helped 18 old people and gave away 1.73 million in a single month. He was considered the richest in the school and madly pursued by girls.

张醒生：北京新土豪十条标准：1. 从戴金链子变成戴佛珠；2. 从汉人变成藏人；3. 从喝白酒变成喝红酒；4. 从西装领带变为麻衣布鞋；5. 从搓麻改为打高球；6. 从开奔驰变为骑自行车；7. 从环球旅行变成结伙辟谷；8. 从投资夜总会变为投资拍电影；9. 从狐朋狗友变为EMBA同学会；10. 从流里流气变成佛里佛气。满足6条，恭喜！你就是新土豪。 The latest ten standards of Beijing’s new tuhao: 1. Wear Buddhist beads instead of golden chains; 2. Change ethnicity from Han to Tibetan; 3. Drink red wine instead of baijiu; 4. Wear linen and traditional cloth shoes instead of Western suits; 5. Play golf instead of mahjong; 6. Bike instead of driving a Benz; 7. Go on fasting sessions instead of travelling around the globe; 8. Invest in movies instead of night clubs; 9. Go to EMBA class reunions instead of hanging out with fair-weather friends; 10. Look like a Buddhist instead of a gangster. If you fit six of these descriptions, bingo, you are the new tuhao!

Issue 6 /2014

FANNING

FLAMES

anboys abound, and for some reason this zeitgeisty term is often reserved for fans of Macs. Now, just why anyone would obsess over a computer is anyone’s guess. Professing a preference is understandable, but becoming a bona fide fan? Perhaps I’m just not geeky enough. And, of course, the Chinese have their own slang to describe all manner of obsessive fans too, not to mention their various subsets. To start we have the 粉丝 (f0ns~, fans), literally “rice noodles”. It can be used to denote a fan of pretty much anything, but as a slangy neologism, it’s more likely to be deployed when talking about pop culture and celebrities rather than, say, those with an interest in the canon of Charles Dickens. Think K-pop stars, Justin Bieber, or David Beckham—all likely to have considerable fensi regardless of their artistic merit. Next up, we have the 黑粉 (h8if0n, literally “black fans”). Hei fen are not really fans at all, but anti-fans more than anything. These are the folk who will follow a particular celebrity to simply, as the English would say, take the piss out of them—or, troll them, to use the parlance of our times. If familiarity breeds contempt, celebrities are just too bloody familiar. And let’s be honest, it’s good fun. Some of them may be people who find folks such as Bieber or Cyrus ridiculous, funny, or ghastly, rather than contemptible. On occasion, black fans are merely expressing their endearment, albeit in a negative way, like saying they would love to throttle Ryan Gosling for

Issue 6 /2014

THE

STREET TALK

having such poor taste in women while secretly lusting after the Hollywood actor. They can be a hypocritical bunch, too, like those who disseminate, say, nude pictures of Jennifer Lawrence for their pleasure only to denounce her as a wild whore later on. A more sophisticated relative of the genre are the 高级黑 (g`oj!h8i, literally “advanced black fans”). These are more intelligent than your average “black fans”, and their attacks are imbued with a sense of subtlety, irony, or refined sarcasm, satirists of sorts. Think of The Onion or, closer to home, China Daily Show. Entirely different beasts are the 脑残粉 (n2oc1nf0n, literally “brain-damaged fans”. I don’t suppose any of these fans have actual brain damage, though who is to say? The naocan fen are those whose fandom reaches a level of worship and idolatry, so as to suspend any semblance of good judgment or rationality. Brain-damaged fans usually worship Korean TV shows, or at least it is Korean pop culture fans that display the most extreme symptoms of “brain damage”, such as the woman who suffered a miscarriage due to binge watching a marathon of her favorite Korean show, My Love from the Star. Or, there are the girls who break up with their boyfriends for not matching up to a TV show male lead. Some girls have even threatened to kill themselves for not being given unlimited freedom to watch their favorite Korean TV shows. Whatever their obsession, be it satirical or pathological, China has a wealth of vocabulary to express the fanatic in us all. - BY CARLOS OTTERY, ADDITIONAL RESEARCH BY WEIJING ZHU (祝伟婧)

DRAGON'S DIGEST

THE COLD I remember that winter. Thick snow weighed on the window’s eave and hung down, stuck on the edge like a quilt roll. My uncle kicked out the door. Shouting family members lifted my dad onto the plank and rushed him to the hospital. I squatted in the doorway, tapping his frozen boots. His toes dropped out one at a time, and I cradled them in the padded breast of my jacket. I thought they could be reattached. I thought doctors had superpowers. Once I grew up, I learned that doctors did have powers, and that it took a lot of money to become one. My widowed mother didn’t have that kind of cash, so I signed up for nursing school. My teachers liked me. Male orderlies were rare and I was a guy, with muscle. Do you have any idea how hard it is to roll a 90-kilo patient covered in bedsores? Flesh pours over your hands, like a liquid. You can’t find a place to grab the skin. Two orderlies need to half squat in a fighter’s horse stance. You both lift from beneath, brace, one, two, three, and flip the patient over. Later, we were drafted to a field hospital. That was easier. The guys that lay on those beds were scrawny. Sometimes fatter ones were brought into special care, but we weren’t on that duty. The floor at our entrance was covered with guts, blood, and amputated limbs. We would roll patients out of the odors of the makeshift ER, and in less than a few days we probably rolled them into the stench of the morgue. 12

I met a nurse. She wasn’t that beautiful, but she laughed with white teeth. Her voice was also pretty. We agreed to get married after the war, but not even a month passed and she was transferred to Wangsa. The city was H-bombed three days later. The war ended, but it was just another assignment. A few orderlies and I were transferred to the south. It got hotter as we travelled, then cooler. We rode on trains, then boarded an airplane and flew until we reached the South Pole. The sky was a terrifying blue and the ground wasn’t white, it was black. It had been bombed. They issued heavy clothing, saying we had to wear it or we would die. There was radiation, that much I knew. The field hospital was erected rapidly. Even though the fighting was clearly over, it was still built in that rushed army way. The people brought in, however, they were uncanny. Six digits, two heads, four legs and one arm. And the arm grew out of their butts. I knew they were aliens, the kind we were fighting. They were frozen solid. Just like my dad when he died. The doctors were experts. They put together a lot of complicated machines and tubes, saying they could, “defrost these fellas”. I hated those “fellas”. Thoroughly. They started the war. They dropped the bomb that killed my future wife. But I did my job. If the doctors asked for something, they got it. There were six aliens in total, and each of them was put in a thawing chamber. The doctors paced the

Peng Yue by

Illustration

temperatures. They looked nervous and worked cautiously. A red light started flashing. It was blinding. Alarms went off. The blue observation cells exploded, discharging foul water. It was rancid. The aliens were all dead. I helped the doctors tidy up and scrub the floor with a brush. We soaked up the rancid water with rags that were wrung out into beakers. The doctors said they would continue their research. Let them have at it. I returned to the mainland, resigned from my post, and found a job at a county hospital. I married a widow. She has a sound boy that calls me dad. Sometimes I dream about that night when I was a child. My dad dug life forms, with four legs and two heads, out of the snow. They were frozen solid. He was hoping to sell them, but it was an unusually cold night, deathly freezing, the coldest out of all the winters I can remember. The organisms came to life. They touched my dad. He fell. His head cracked open and his toes stayed in his boots. He was frozen solid. There might be a kind of organism that comes to life in the cold and hardens in heat. But I didn’t tell those doctors. I will always remember that day. I remember crying as I raced over the snow. The strange life forms had left and I thought the hospital could save my dad. His toes were melting in the breast of my jacket. Bloody water soaked through the cotton pads. It leaked into my undershirt and down my chest. Issue 6 /2014

CHI HUI 迟卉 Former editor of Science Fiction World, a base for modern Chinese sci-fi literature, Chi Hui is one of the leading figures of a new generation of sci-fi writers. Many of her earlier works focus on the impact technology has on the spiritual world of people and their environment. Her novel Kalemi’an Graveyard (《卡勒米安墓场》) in 2010 centered on a young woman, the daughter of a space pirate captain, and her quest to find a mysterious graveyard only mentioned in legend.

THE FLIER 0.

Any act of flight, departure from the ground, unanchored manner of lift, or propulsion solely by pneumatic or rocket force is unlawful behavior. • All parties found guilty of an act of flight will be executed; in addition, three human citizens will be selected at random, deemed guilty by arbitrary association, and executed. • Selection precedence will be given to parties acquainted with the party guilty of unlawful behavior. • Citizens holding immunity cards will be absolved of arbitrary selection, valid for one round of selection. • Reported acts of flight, which result in the verification of the accused party, as having engaged in unlawful behavior, are requitable by one immunity card, valid for one person, one round of selection. —Declaration, Law of Flight

0.1

This was the last stop. Lifting her pack, the girl stepped off the train. A box of instant noodles rattled in the small backpack. She was a little nervous, but also excited. If she were found out it would be fatal, and three innocent people would die as well. She stopped there, hesitated, and strode on. It was a small town. She could easily see to the end of the main strip. Quietly, she asked a stranger cooling in the shade about a man who had moved there about two years earlier. No, no he hadn’t come here to marry. He came by himself. Yes, he probably lives alone. No, maybe not in the actual town, but he would have started out there. Thanks anyways, I’d better ask someone else...Yes, a man, over 30, he lives alone... The conversations meandered like that until she finally got a likely address. But it was far—a half-day’s walk. A ride? There were no rides out there. You could take a pedicab part of the way but had to walk the rest. The man lives in a valley, where he started a mushroom farm. She managed to get clear directions and set off. The autumn air was dry and cool. Clouds of tawny dust rose from the dirt road. Her left foot trod inside the tire rut and her dark jeans were stained with yellow earth. “This is far,” she thought. But an exiled leader of the old resistance should be living 14

in a remote location, shouldn’t he? A smile crept over her face. She’d been searching for a long time. Young people, like her friends, always told stories about him: The only person to fly and live after the strange aliens conquered; fighting for free skies, leading a massive uprising, defeated, and gone into hiding...Would he ever take the youth flying again? They had wondered. Her friends took the story for myth, but not her, she had discovered his whereabouts. The girl’s legs were tired, so she sat on the ground and sipped from her canteen, watching the road. It stretched into a cluster of lush mountains where the trees were already starting to turn gold and red. The view was beautiful and she felt sorry that her friends would never have the chance to come see it. It was just talk. Let’s go flying or whatever. Nobody thought the boys would actually build a glider. Then somebody reported it. She wasn’t involved so avoided the catastrophe. A laser beam shot down from the sky and struck the boys. Their guts spilled from their bodies. It was horrible. The boys’ acquaintances then waited in terror to see which three would be selected. She wasn’t chosen, but her little sister was. The girl never saw her sister’s death. As soon as she heard the news she started her journey. Anger burned inside her. She had no fixed partner or companion. All she had to cling on to now was a myth and vague hope. She put the cap back on her canteen, stood, and marched on. Let me find you, mythical resister, and tell me how to struggle against all of this. Tell me how to fight this unnamed power in the sky.

0.2

She arrived in the valley at sunset. A small, spotless white building was spewing smoke from its chimney, while in the doorway a man chopped wood with an axe. He was wearing a T-shirt and grey sweatpants. A tight pattern of sweat beads had formed on his forehead and muscles swiveled under his tanned skin. His jet black eyes looked cold and stayed focused on the swinging axe which split log after log after log... The girl hesitated. “Mr. Qin,” she called softly. The man paused and looked up at the unexpected visitor. “Excuse me,” she summoned her courage. “Excuse me, are you Mr. Qin Yiheng?” “That’s me.” He wiped his brow with indifference. “What do you want?”

She waited for a while then said softly, “I want to fly, sir.” He grimaced mockingly, “No, you don’t just want to fly, you want fly and continue living, like me. After standing up to those sons of bitches,” he pointed to the sky. “You want to continue living, like me.” The girl froze. This was not the conversation she had expected to have with him. “Let me tell you why I’m here, little girl.” He walked over and stood in her face. She wanted to run, but her feet stayed planted. “Listen,” his voice was deep, pulling her in like a whirlpool, “They captured many of us, myself included. But there were still others. They said if I told them where the others were, they would let me go. That’s why I’m here, still alive. I’m a traitor. I betrayed the resistance. I betrayed the men, the women, and the children; every single person that believed in me.” He bared his teeth. “Does that answer your question, little girl?” She didn’t know what to answer, and he didn’t seem to need one. That night, she stayed in the farm’s guestroom. The man didn’t have a wife, but he hired an old lady to take care of the farm and other business for him. The girl shared a bed with the woman, with her unwashed teeth and garlic breath, and tossed and turned all night. The next morning she left without saying goodbye, swearing she would never return to that place.

0.3

The girl returned to the city and married a man who worked for a small company. Sometimes they took the train or drove a car on holiday. Life went on and flying wasn’t an issue, except when they remembered, complaining, about how convenient airplanes had been. Later, they had a child and after that a courier came. It came from the sky lords. “Due to the recent uprising in America, 122 citizens have been found guilty by arbitrary association. I am here to regretfully inform that you have been selected.” It said mechanically. This type of robot was used specifically to notify selected citizens. The sky lords weren’t that unreasonable. They gave you at least an hour to make the necessary accommodations. Her husband turned deathly pale, and the child, which still didn’t understand such things, drew into the father’s chest crying. The girl felt like she had been pulled out of her own body. She had an hour. “Wait!” she thought of something. It was trivial, but a Issue 6 /2014

chance. She grabbed the messenger’s cold mechanical arm, as though it were a stick that could save her from drowning, “If I report a crime, can I live?” The messenger stopped. It seemed to be communicating with its masters. “If unlawful behavior is verified, your execution will be absolved,” it replied. “I want to report,” she shouted, “Report a man, and he has an airplane in his house! He lives in the valley outside the town of Bailin, there’s a mushroom farm...” She didn’t know if he really had an airplane. It wasn’t likely, but it needed investigating and the longer the investigation took the longer she could live. Live longer...she could at least live a little while longer. The messenger returned in less than an hour. Her heart sunk. “The unlawful act you reported has been verified,” the robot’s voice was still flat. “The criminal has been executed. You have been requited and spent your immunity. Goodbye, madam.” She stood there staring at nothing. She didn’t want to accept that he was dead and that she was left alive. A voice in her head kept repeating one question: he really had an airplane?

0.4

She returned to that place in the end. Her husband begged and her child cried, but her curious spirit was too strong, and once again she walked through the tawny dust clouds into the now deserted valley. A month had passed since the mythical man’s death. His house was covered in dust and long blades of grass arched over the flagstones. The thriving, verdant color hurt her eyes. In the backyard she found a stairway. Following the steps all the way up to the mountaintop, she saw a wide, flat piece of turf. Somebody must have leveled it. An airplane was parked in a crude shed at the far end of the lawn. She walked over, felt the rough wings and handmade propeller. The glider looked like it was made with great care, and it was well looked after. For a second, she felt the man was standing next to her. They were both traitors, both resisters, both dead. What did he think about when he stood there: the people he had betrayed? The people who were selected because of him? Ha, he must have been standing right about here. She imagined the man’s gaze and followed it along a ridge that protruded into the vast mountain range. It was a smooth runway that dropped off into a deep valley. Falling from it, the wind would lift you up, and you would soar. 15

FLAME STORM They exited the ship shoulder to shoulder. One turned left, the other turned right, and each selected a viewing train going in a different direction. “Your ticket, Mr. J. Lira.” “Your ticket, Ms. Lumei.” Before hopping onto the trains they looked back and their eyes met. Leftover anger poised itself in their gazes like burning red daggers. They broke the stare stiffly, turned their heads and disappeared into the lines of tourists, acting as if the other no longer existed. It was not like that at the beginning. Then came the trivialities, the differences, more differences and petty conflicts. There were also the hard times they had endured, shoulder-to-shoulder, accumulating grief. It was only after they made the serious step to spend their lives together that they discovered their personalities were like porcupines. If they got too close, they pricked one another. Neither of them desired sightseeing on Galapade. It had happened after an argument. They both overheated and booked a tour at random. The idea was to take some time apart and find calm. But they were not actually apart. They were on the same planet. The viewing train started. The brown-haired man sighed and sat by a window. This line only offered window seats. The wide panes were to give tourists full views on the icy world of Galapade. Temperatures outside the glass were 230 degrees below zero. But inside, it was as warm as spring. The ride was safe and pleasant. Pumping music started blaring in the car. Irritated, he made a waving gesture and turned on the sound barrier. The surroundings fell silent. That was better, he thought, while looking out the window. It was a cold and quiet planet to begin with. The dark sky reached deep into space. A light red halo formation ornamented the dim galaxy. It was a cluster of interstellar gas that was lit by increasingly powerful cosmic rays. Below, the flat surface of the planet was shrouded in the glowing haze, while lamplight shining from the view train illuminated crystalline sculptures. The sculptures were not man made, but had accumulated over millennia. Oxygen, carbon and nitrogen crystals, even the frozen air itself, mixed

in the deep cold and formed octahedral gems with corrugated edges. The gems clustered into sky-high piles with shooting apexes. Not all the sculptures were big and most were in the shape of a steeple. The crystalline clusters went up in stacks and fanned out on the spires like peacock tails. The pinnacles were a light gold that lowered into a light green, which descended into a dark blue, which sunk into a murky black. Some of the larger sculptures formed in batches, with the smaller ones sprawling out along both sides, exactly like wings spreading from a bird. One and two and three, four, and five and six and seven, eight... The brown-haired man turned away from the glass and rubbed his tired eyes. The first batch had been breathtaking, the second praiseworthy, but this “incredible scenery” was all there was to see along the track. It grew dull. Like their relationship, at first the feeling was breathtaking, and then it became wearisome. It was hard to believe, but all of the hurdles only added up to a period of ten years. He still loved her. But life had ground those feelings into biting thorns. Just like the refracted glare of the sculptures now stinging his eyes. The train sped along. He called for an attendant, ordered a meal and started to eat. The black-haired girl was not sitting in a window seat. She had paid an extra fee to ride in the observation car at the rear of the train. Bunks were provided to lie on and an attendant pointed her to one that looked out of a skylight. She said thanks and lied down contently. Sliding her hands behind her head, she saw

DANGER...IS IT DANGEROUS TO VACATION ON A PLANET WITH A DEGENERATE SUN? IS THE PROBABILITY OF REIGNITED NUCLEAR FUSION HIGHER THAN A FAILED RELATIONSHIP?

the formation of red gas in the sky and the blue murk around the dead star. A tour pamphlet she had read outlined the history of Galapade over the course of hundreds of millennia. It was once a fertile planet, but the galaxy’s sun had burned at a high intensity and collapsed. It contracted, compressed and exploded, expelling its remains until all that was left was a dense nucleus surrounded by gaseous debris. Galapade was the furthest of its sisters from the sun and was able to survive. Over time, the planet attracted remnant clouds of stellar gas, which drifted onto its surface. The gases accumulated slowly and formed crystals that were now part of the dazzling sculptures. People had discovered the planet six years ago. They opened a tour, but were unlucky. The dead star was sweeping up its remnants, causing it to erupt every hundred millennia. Apparently, the next explosion would be soon. The halo of interstellar cloud was clear evidence: it only turned red when the dead star’s temperatures were rising. This gave Galapade wilder and even more striking scenery. But it also put the planet in grave danger. Danger...Is it dangerous to vacation on a planet with a degenerate sun? Is the probability of reignited nuclear fusion higher than a failed relationship? She laughed softly, mostly at herself, and rolled over to sleep, but looking through the skylight she saw cracks forming in the dim, blue ball of gas. They split open and emitted dark red rays. Alarms rang. Tourists ran up and down the aisles shouting in dialects. The view train reversed direction, shooting backwards. Lamplight swept over the sculptures; flashing and fading. Seen at a high speed the distorted landscape had an eerie beauty. He sat by the window, unnaturally calm among the confusion. At this point even a lonely hero from the movies would be defenseless; a dead star was about to erupt into a sun. Either everyone escapes, or their ashes scatter in the rays. Panic was pointless, he told himself. His fate now belonged to destiny, a driver, this speeding view train, and a spaceship that was preparing to launch. In an instant, his life became insignificant. He suddenly felt regret. Maybe they should have taken the same train. Then at least he could be next to her. The train docked at the spaceport. She squeezed out through shouting crowds, stood on her tiptoes and

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searched for that familiar face. The ship was ready to launch, but she couldn’t find him or his train. Maybe he was already on the ship. A demon began murmuring in her thoughts. In that case, her decision was easy. If he had abandoned her, then she had nothing left to live for and might as well stay behind. If his train was still out there, then she had a reason to wait. How many people get the chance to burn into ash with a star? She laughed. The last view train pulled into the port. He pushed himself first out the door and ran to her. They stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out of a side porthole as the vessel lifted off. A fire from hell flared up on the ground below. Rays flashed and the dead star exploded into a blazing sun. A flame storm erupted on the light side of Galapade and expanded, wrapping around the dark reaches of the planet. Flames collided, surged into the sky and diffused into long tails of cloud. It took an hour for the planet to be fully submerged in the sea of flames. But it almost felt short, only a minute, and at the same time seemed long, as if a whole lifetime had passed. In the flames below, there were life forms gliding upwards. Wings, coated with glittering crystals flapped above the raging flames. Tails of clustered gems spread gracefully in the fire glow. The tapered necks and heads were dark black. They looked like birds, but without eyes, chasing the bright red and orange crests, soaring calmly. The sculptures were living. Sunrays had defused the stone and crystal charm, freeing the spirits from their cold prisons. One hundred million years of evolution, soaring in one breath. She put her hand in his palm. It was wide and warm. She felt safe. “If they could see that moment,” she said softly, “I would love to know, when flames encircled them in the sky, what that looked like in their eyes.” – TRANSLATED BY NICOLAS RICHARDS (芮尼克)

Author’s Note: These three stories are about anger, freedom, and love. But the most important thing I want you, my readers, to take from them is the simple joy of reading.

1818

KALEIDOSCOPE

Sugarcane harvested and refined the old fashioned way 甘蔗成熟的季节，江西小村庄的古法制糖也再次苏醒了

S THE

SACCHARINE SOUTH PHOTOGRAPHS BY MENG QINGCHUN (孟庆春) , TEXT BY LIU JUE (刘珏)

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tarting in mid-October, on farm fields scattered among the hilly areas of southern Jiangxi Province, farmers begin their annual harvest of sugarcane. Like many other places in China’s countryside, such a task is still only done through arduous labor, with families intensively reaping their scythes day and night. In Aoshang (坳上), bundles of sugarcane with a distinct purple luster are stacked neatly outside a grey break house. Instead of conveniently selling them to big factories, the villagers choose to make sugar on their own using a centuries-old traditional method. The break house, a community workshop, burns sugarcane leaves non-stop for the entire month of November to fuel sugar production. The ancient method largely remains the same: the sugarcane is first crushed with a stone mill or machine to yield juice, which will later be boiled. Inside the workshop, senior masters with rich experience oversee the heat and timing of the boiling process, and all family members and friends come to help. The caldron stays full until each family has turned their bundles of cane into buckets of brown sweetness. This is not just any sugar they are making; crafted brown cane sugar or “red sugar” (红糖) is a highly-valued local specialty for its natural aroma, nutritional value, health effects, and restorative power for women, especially those who have just experienced childbirth, according to traditional Chinese medicine beliefs. Though sugar is without a doubt one of the most common and cheapest condiments today, red sugar is sold for as high as 26 to 30 RMB per kilogram, with each family only producing 50 to 100 kilogram a year. The locals include red sugar as an essential part of their diet; its making certainly has an important spot on the village’s yearly calendar, giving the activity a festival mood that’s all too rare in today’s modern urban experience. 19

STACKS OF NEWLY HARVESTED SUGARCANE WAIT IDLE IN THE COMMUNITY SUGAR WORKSHOP LEAVES ARE SEPARATED AND DRIED BUT NOT WASTED. LATER, IT WILL SERVE AS THE FUEL FOR THE SUGAR-MAKING PROCESS.

SUGARCANE IS FIRST CRUSHED TO YIELD JUICE 20

THE WORKSHOP STOVE WILL BURN NONSTOP FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH FOR EVERY FAMILY IN THE VILLAGE TO MAKE SUGAR

THE CALDRON IS DIVIDED INTO DIFFERENT SECTIONS AND HEATED DIFFERENTLY. SUGARCANE JUICE IS BOILED AND MOVED THROUGH DIFFERENT SECTIONS FOR GRADUAL CONCENTRATION.

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THE SUGARCANE JUICE IS FILTERED THROUGH A NET, AND THE VILLAGERS COLLECT THE RESIDUE TO SELL TO FACTORIES WHERE IT CAN BE PROCESSED FURTHER

WHILE BOILING, A SENIOR MASTER OVERSEES THE PROCESS, STIRRING CONSTANTLY AND MOVING THE JUICE FROM SECTION TO SECTION WHEN THE TIMING IS RIGHT

WHEN THE JUICE IS SUFFICIENTLY CONCENTRATED, IT IS PUT IN A WOODEN BASIN TO COOL DOWN. VILLAGERS THEN GATHER THE LIQUID SUGAR WITH SMALL BUCKETS OR BOTTLES, WHICH THEY WILL SAVE FOR THEMSELVES OR SELL AS A FAMOUS LOCAL SPECIALTY.

BROWN CANE SUGAR Because it’s unrefined, brown cane sugar retains natural vitamins and minerals, but according to traditional Chinese medicine beliefs, this sugar also nourishes blood and qi, activates circulation, and warms the spleen and stomach. Women recovering from childbirth are often advised to drink brown sugar water for the above benefits. Brown sugar ginger tea (红糖姜茶) is also a comforting drink for women suffering from cramps, and many testify to its pain reliving attributes. Issue 6 /2014

“I

MADE IN CHINA

F U T U R E THE

BOX TO

n Switzerland they had brotherly love—they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.” So says Harry Lime in the Carol Reed film The Third Man, but alongside the famous cuckoo clock, he might easily have added the Swiss music box into the equation. When Beijing antique dealer Ningyi Zhang began hauling Swiss music boxes over to China, he suspected there would be no shortage of interest. After all, these ornate furniture-sized instruments were great conversation pieces. Their delicate melodies and elaborate construction attract wealthy collectors who are eager for foreign items and to join the nation’s noveau riche. Zhang, despite little to no experience in musicology, was rightly convinced China’s luxury consumers were ready for the music box (八音盒, or eight note box—named for the octatonic scale common in Western music as opposed to China’s pentatonic scale). He acquired more than 70 within a few years. “People are really charmed that these music boxes work without electricity in a world where everything is electronic,” Zhang says. “People are very attracted to things that work with gears, springs, and levers. This is something purely mechanical that can also store great music.” Zhang’s music boxes are decorated with etched wood, dancing porcelain figurines, and some are even coin-operated. In 19th century Europe, train stations, pharmacies, and amusement parks would all have had one, generating revenue thanks to passersby who fancied jamming to polkas and waltzes. Zhang’s music boxes had all the fashionable tunes, manifested through the mechanical plucking of violins, the ringing of bells, and the beat of small drums. Then, there is even the one that plays the iconic Chinese folk song “Mo Li Hua”, or “Jasmine Flower”; watch CCTV’s English channel for about an hour and you’ll probably hear it somewhere. Here’s where the story gets really interesting. Once Zhang thought

J e s s i c a R a pp by

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he knew all there was to know about 19th century Swiss artisan manufacturing culture, he acquired a Chinese-themed music box, which went up for auction around the same time The New York Times published an article that cast light on its fascinating history. Zhang knew this much: Chinese-themed music boxes were made in small quantities in Switzerland’s Jura Valley toward the end of the Qing Dynasty (1616-1911) for export to a small number of Chinese aristocrats. Interest in music boxes from that time followed an obsession with mechanical objects, namely elaborate watches and, of course, clocks, which had been a feature of the Qing era. Emperor Qianlong (乾隆皇帝) notoriously had one of the largest clock collections in the world, many still on display today at the Forbidden City in Beijing. These luxurious time pieces, often gilded and set with gemstones, were gifted to imperial families or traded for porcelain and tea. However, little is known about who, specifically, owned these music boxes. They were customized for China in almost every aspect, much in the same way Apple unleashed a gold version of their iPhone 5s specifically for wealthy Chinese consumers. No waltzes or polkas this time. Instead, Chinese listeners were granted a number of their own folk songs collected by Frederic “Fritz” Bovet, a member of a Swiss watch-making family, on his travels throughout Asia during the mid-1800s. Bovet recorded ten melodies in China, which included “Mo Li Hua” and “Shi Ba Mo”, also known as “18 Touches” or “Erotic Massage,” a bawdy brothel song, which was banned in China along with brothels when the Communist Party came to power. “‘Shi Ba Mo’ is a bit of a naughty song, and one has to wonder where the Swiss musicologist collected his tunes,” Zhang jokes. The song celebrates a man touching 18 different parts of a woman’s body, each touch becoming increasingly intimate, and including lines such as: “I can’t touch you there…if I do you will die of bliss.” But regardless of Bovet’s

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personal wanderings, these songs in their form and their significance could have been lost if it wasn’t documented in the music box, and for a person who eventually came to possess the music boxes. And, no, it wasn’t a Chinese aristocrat. The New York Times article, penned by American music history professor, W. Anthony Sheppard, revealed to Zhang what makes the music box so valuable. Fast forward to the early 1900s, and Zhang’s music box was, Sheppard suggests, sitting in the home of Italian baron Eduardo Fassini-Camossi. Sheppard tells us that the baron, an amateur composer, had likely picked up the music box at a “loot auction” held to sell off items pillaged during the Boxer Rebellion (1899-1901), during which Fassini-Camossi had served. One guest at the baron’s house was Italian composer Giacomo Puccini. And a version of “Mo Li Hua” was even appropriated into Turandot, Puccini’s 1926 opera, apparently the result of Fassini-Camossi playing the superior composer the 18th century song from his music box. “Mo Li Hua” was one of the only tunes that survived from pre-1930s China, and in various forms at that. By the time it made it into Puccini’s opera, the song had gone through a number of revisions by “intellectuals who had a very specific and nationalistic mindset and

Both the inside and outside of these mechanical music boxes are a source of great beauty and happiness for collectors

wanted to create music for New China,” says Zhang. In what he describes as a “chaotic” time, the melody briefly became the national anthem in 1896. “Shi Ba Mo”, on the other hand, was virtually erased from official memory in China. The appearance of “Mo Li Hua” in Puccini’s unfinished final work helped solve the “mystery” surrounding the origins of the music featured in the composer’s earlier opera, Madama Butterfly. Set in Japan, Madama Butterfly had long been thought to contain Japanese songs. During a rather unexpected encounter with the music box at the Murtogh D. Guinness Collection of mechanical musical instruments at New Jersey’s Morris Museum, Sheppard discovered otherwise. Here, he found that “Mo Li Hua” and “Shi Ba Mo” sounded undoubtedly similar to the “tinkling” notes in Puccini’s Madama Butterfly. Bovet’s thorough transcription helped confirm his suspicions. “Other surviving Swiss music boxes from the period include these melodies,” Sheppard wrote in a column

for the Institute for Advanced Study. “However, the Guinness box crucially preserves its original tune sheet, listing the song titles in nonstandard transliteration and in Chinese characters. Thus, the Guinness box serves as something like a Rosetta Stone for this historical project.” And so Zhang’s music box, formerly part of the Guinness collection, having planted a seed in Western musical culture, has returned to China and is now part of the Poly Auction, and is listed at around three million RMB. Zhang supposes he’ll hold on to the music box so that it can be appreciated a little longer. He has two more on the way, but he has no idea what songs they have in them or what stories they hold. As for future collectors or possessors of the Chinese music box, he guesses few of them will know much more about their history, but that shouldn’t stop a collector. After all, it didn’t stop Emperor Qianlong. - JESSICA RAPP (阮洁茜)

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C O V ER S T ORY Name: Wang Jianlin Affiliations: Dalian Wanda Group, People’s Liberation Army Known for: Real estate magnate, film and theater industrialist Education: Liaoning University Notable Accomplishments: • Former richest man in China • Opening the Oriental Movie Metropolis • Nine million square meters of property investments

Name: Jack Ma Affiliations: Alibaba, Tmall, Taobao, Alipay, The Nature Conservancy Known for: Founding the largest online store in the world, philanthropy, officiating mass weddings Education: BA in English, Hangzhou Teaching Institute Notable Accomplishments: • Founded Alibaba • Successful IPO of Alibaba • China’s richest man • One of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people in the world

Name: Hu Shuli Affiliations: Caixin Century Weekly Magazine Known for: Outstanding news reporting on business, finance, and public affairs Education: Journalism, Renmin University Notable Accomplishments: • Objective and in-depth investigative reporting that initiates social change • Dean of the School of Communication and Design at Sun Yat-sen University • Recipient of the 2014 Ramon Magsaysay Award

CHARM OFFENSIVE

Name: Wu Changhua Affiliations: Climate Group Known for: Fighting climate change Education: Environmental Policy, University of Maryland; Law Degree, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences Notable Accomplishments: • Greater China Director, Climate Group • Twenty years as an environment and development policy analyst • Consultation with the World Bank, UNEP, and UNDP • Chair of the World Economic Forum’s Global Agenda Council of Climate Change

Name: Yuan Longping Affiliations: China National Hybrid Rice Research and Development Center Known for: Breeding high-yield hybrid rice to end hunger worldwide Education: Agriculture, Southwest College of Agriculture (Now Southwest University in Chongqing) Notable Accomplishments: • Worked as chief consultant of Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations • Led hybrid rice research, developing new varieties to improve output • Trained agriculture personnel from across the world

Name: Chen Guangbiao Affiliations: China Zhi Gong Party, Jiangsu Huangpu Renewable Resources Known for: Recycling construction materials, flamboyant philanthropy, earthquake rescue, interest in buying American newspapers Education: MBA, Nanjing University; BA in Medicine, Nanjing University of Chinese Medicine Notable Accomplishments: • Founding China’s largest construction waste company

From opinion-makers to world-shapers, influential Chinese people are changing the world 他们和这个时代：这六个人改变了当今世界的“中国印象” China’s attempts at soft power have been unsuccessful in the extreme, but away from the halls of Chinese government (albeit not too far), there are Chinese people changing the world on their very own. The rise of the Chinese individual in the past few decades has taken the world by storm, and we decided to profile six influential people—masters of science, business, and the environment—that are changing the way the planet views China.

Issue 6 /2014