Wu Jin Zang (eBook)
279 Seiten
Weltbuch Verlag
978-3-906212-81-4 (ISBN)
Pang Bei, born in 1966, is a novelist, playwright and screenwriter. As a playwright, Pang Bei received international acclaim with his stage play 'Life After Life', a Chinese drama, which was performed at the Festival d'Avignon 2016. As a screenwriter, he won the Golden Horse Film Festival in Taiwn with his film script 'Lord of Shanghai'. In his youth, Pang Bei shared the same career with Mo Yan, the Chinese Nobel Laureate in Literature, and Mai Jia, author of the global bestseller 'Decode'. This special experience has given them a global vision and the ability to reach and inspire readers all over the world. Pang Bei, geboren 1966, ist Romanautor, Dramatiker und Drehbuchautor. Als Dramatiker erhielt Pang Bei mit seinem Bühnenstück 'Life After Life', ein chinesisches Drama, internationale Beachtung und wurde auf dem Festival d'Avignon 2016 aufgeführt. Als Drehbuchautor gewann er mit seinem Filmdrehbuch 'Lord of Shanghai' das Golden Horse Film Festival in Taiwn. Pang Bei teilte in seinen Jugendtagen die gleiche Karriere mit Mo Yan, dem chinesischen Literaturnobelpreisträger, und Mai Jia, Autorin des weltweiten Bestsellers 'Decode'. Diese besondere Erfahrung hat ihnen eine globale Vision und die Fähigkeit gegeben, Leser in der ganzen Welt zu erreichen und zu begeistern.
Volume I
A Taoist Hermit
The sky rained millet. Ghosts cried at night. Legend has it that when Cang Jie succeeded to invent the Chinese characters. Heaven and earth could no longer conceal their secrets, thus the sky rained millet; deities and ghosts could no longer hide themselves, thus they cried at night. In the remote antiquity, no characters were available, until Fu Xi drew the tri-grams, which gave rise to culture in the world. Fu Xi drew the eight tri-grams, followed by the creation of characters by Cang Jie.
Cang Jie was a legendary figure, who was also said to be a historian official of the Yellow king Xuanyuan. Cang Jie’s creation of characters was an effort defying the achievements of heaven and earth, thus not brooked by them. No secrets could be concealed in the universe, and therefore the sky rained millet.
The sky rained millet. Wind and thunder arose. Auspicious air built up. Such abnormal phenomena never appear later.
The law of Heaven repeated itself in endless cycles. Later generations were indeed not as lucky. Despite the numerous people looking up and down, no one had been fortunate enough to spot that miracle again.
Time elapsed quickly, and another dynasty was in place. In October of the first year of the Shengyuan Period, a group of fishermen claimed that they had witnessed this wonder. It was the day when Li Bian, the founding king of Southern Tang, ascended to the throne. Over the capital in Jinling curled purple air, and all people celebrated this great event. Before the Shengyuan Hall many elephants danced and officials hailed. Fishermen came to the royal palace from riverside, holding millet that had fallen from the sky in their bamboo hats. The director of the court of sacrificial worship introduced those offering millet to the throne. The founding king looked greatly pleased, delighted beyond measure. Carillons sounded together, and phoenixes sang in harmony. The king ascended to his throne and offered an encomium, “The heaven bestowed an auspicious sign upon the start of my dynasty. The world enjoys peace and prosperity. The great Tang will flourish for its benevolence. Cang Jie had four eyes, and my grandson’s pupils double for his excellence. The sky rained millet” The founding king’s countenance was suddenly changed, and all officials and officers in court lied prostrate. The sky rained millet, and ghosts cried at night. If the former was an auspicious sign, wasn’t the latter an ill omen?
A review of all the extant official historical records about Southern Tang only found some scattered records about the auspicious sign which people of the whole country celebrated. Carved railings and jade inlays were still present, yet how could one stand the sorrows of past events. The state was destroyed, the king surrendered, and Southern Tang was gone like smoke and ashes. This short-lived large state of Jiangnan lasted only three generations for thirty-eight years, with First King, Middle King and Last King. Once a state was destroyed, its history was also gone. Among the historical books compiled by surrendered officials on imperial orders, all the mandates of heaven and propitious signs were eliminated, so were ill omens. As to anomaly phenomena in Southern Tang, the double pupils of Last King Li Yu seemed to be the only record.
Only three people with double pupils were recorded in past history, Cang Jie, Yu Shun and Xiang Yu. Cang Jie was a literary sage, Yu Shun a sage king, and Xiang Yu an overlord. The founding king of Southern Tang gained power dishonestly, and thus Yushun’s virtue of abdication was his taboo. The usurper desisted from military activities and encouraged culture and education, unwilling to see his descendants follow the example of Xiang Yu. So he would rather regard the birth of his grandson in the year when the state was founded as a sign of the supernatural appearance of Cang Jie. With a broad forehead, plump cheeks, and double pupils in one year, this grandson of the king was born with a strange appearance. By the time when he came of age and a capping ceremony was held for him, the founding king named him “Chongguang” (meaning double light). With the makeups of dragon and phoenix and double light in a time of prosperity, the double pupils, for the king, represented literary grace.
As the handsome boy grew up, beautiful girls in Qinhuai saw tender feelings in the double pupils. After this sentimental prince and graceful scholar was enthroned like a jade tree embracing the wind, court officials saw docility in his double pupils. Some people also saw cowardice and imbecility, but no one saw murder.
When the heaven is to murder, stars and constellations are removed; when the earth is to murder, dragons and serpents arise from the land; when people are to murder, heaven and earth are overturned.
Thank goodness! As a survivor of Southern Tang, I managed to live out a meager existence incognita. I strove to live only to testify to the facts buried.
Lin Renzhao, native of Fujian, was a famous general of Southern Tang. His descendants are not mentioned in the residual historical books about Southern Tang. As his unworthy son, I am now having one foot in the grave. Though I lived on in degradation, I still maintained moral integrity and never brought disgrace to my forefathers. It is said that the present age is still a time of national peace and order, and the current king is a virtuous and enlightened monarch. Historians of the Great Song dynasty also refer to the ancestors of the king as men of virtue, who were all sage kings. King Taizu passed on the throne to king Taizong, king Taizong to king Zhenzong and king Zhenzong to the current king. The sage king of this great dynasty has also endowed me with an official position and protection, which I would not accept. I am unwilling to bear witness to the history of this dynasty. I do not want to waste my residual energy. Now that my health is declining, with trembling hands and blurred eyesight, my unfulfilled wish in the last days of my life is to write about what I saw and heard on that day of great catastrophe, not only because I was a descendant of General Lin but also I could disclose another side of the truth about the short-lived dynasty. In brief, I witnessed the scene in which “ghosts cried at night”. (Gods and spirits are immense, no one can tell whether they are real or false. Despite Sage Confucius’s reticence, I would like to them discourse..)
Demons and monsters howled and danced in broad daylight; foxes and rats moved about freely through cities. The air of rebellion was adequate to instigate rebellion; the evil spirit was adequate to create evil. When there were more people, people ate beast; when there were more beasts, beasts ate people. Let wise Cang Jie endow me with the power of writing! Let this withering hand no more tremble while holding the writing brush! I wrote about the sorrowful confession in a deserted temple on the suburbs of the city of Bianzhou.
Autumn wind soughed, wild geese in the cold flew south. The ravaged territory south of the Yangtze River had already been subsumed into the domain of the Song Dynasty. Nanjing was no longer an imperial and national capital. Not long since, it was a state with brilliant literature, and I used to wander through the picturesque landscape. In this state with a large population and abundant natural resources, civil officials were indolent and military officers were pleasure-seeking, regardless of the wolf pack on watch in the north. It was also a Buddha-worship state, where the king was a devout Buddhist, and all the people followed suit crazily. The river rolled eastward, and sutra chanting sounded like billows. Crows flurried and ate offerings to Buddha. In the late autumn of the north, I am recalling those numerous banquets, in which elegantly dressed men and women enjoyed soft music and graceful dances. The wine was running out and the guests were departing, while a gentle breeze and bright moonlight played outside the curtain. Deep inside the palace, a life light foreboded the life or death of a famous military officer guarding the state.
The monarch should treat courtiers with etiquette and courtiers should serve the monarch with loyalty. This sacred standard is found in all of the numerous volumes of Confucian classics, a compulsory course I must learn when I was in the Imperial College. But I am not intelligent, neither gifted nor diligent. I always can’t memorize poems or scriptures. Born in a waning age, I have been tired of the theory of official career. It’s said that the grace of men will not last more than five generations. And I have seen too many rich and powerful families which could not last more than three generations. Lifetime is limited, honor and joyous terminate upon death. Magnificent buildings, sumptuous banquets, such spectaculars are but transitory. Some may say that wealth can be stored for the offspring, but how many of them can keep it? Those genealogies recording a long and lofty lineage are obviously unreal. The immoral and unworthy later generations are also thugs who, despite the favor of fortune, have few praiseworthy exploits.
With the vicissitudes of fate, my life is to end soon. Now that I am hoary-headed and all alone, I think of the past when I escaped by a little boat floating in wind and weathering the elements, which was no other than an old dream. “The long road stretches afar, I spend my...
Erscheint lt. Verlag | 22.6.2021 |
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Sprache | englisch |
Themenwelt | Literatur ► Historische Romane |
ISBN-10 | 3-906212-81-5 / 3906212815 |
ISBN-13 | 978-3-906212-81-4 / 9783906212814 |
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