Beach Whispers: Millennial Eye Anthology

Author: Shanghai
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-05-01
Features: In my childhood, I listened to adults telling myths and knew about the "" (all-seeing eye) and "" ( ear). These tales sparked endless imagination in my young mind. As I grew older and got married, my late wife, Ms. Guo Yuan (1937—1970), who graduated from Fudan University's physics department and researched cutting-edge technologies like infrared, told me that from a modern technological perspective, radio telescopes and long-distance direct dial phones have already made the mythical "" and "" a reality, with their magical functions even surpassing those in the myths. However, there was no "" in mythology. In historical records and anecdotes, there are occasional accounts of geniuses who predicted events hundreds or thousands of years in the future, but these are nothing more than nonsense and are not worth a laugh. The "Bakang Song" by Liu Bowen, which emerged in modern times, was a divination created by the people during times of war and turmoil—it was no more than the ramblings of a madman and had nothing to do with historical perspectives. In the early 1980s, shortly after the "Gang of Four" was overthrown, many people reflected on the decade of chaos that had brought unprecedented disaster to the Chinese nation. It was during this time that I read The Thousand-Year Eye, a book written by Zhang Sui in the Ming Dynasty. This book was not widely circulated and is not listed in the General Catalog of the Four Treasuries, with only Ming-era printed copies and a collection in The Great Collection of Notebooks and Novels, Supplement surviving. The Institute of History at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, where I work, has a Ming-era printed copy, so I borrowed it to read. What caught my attention was the title of the book—I guessed the author must be someone with a historical perspective, otherwise why would he call it The Thousand-Year Eye? After reading the entire book, I realized my guess was correct. Zhang Sui was indeed a scholar with a historical perspective. The book discusses the past and the present, transcends a millennium, and often stands at the height of history to observe the ancients and the moderns, occasionally shining with intellectual sparks. For example, in Volume 1, it states: "Although King Wu of Zhou despised the officials of the Shou dynasty, he could not change their entrenched habits, and over time, it became difficult to reform. Mencius said: 'When a ruler promotes virtuous men, if there is no one else, he will appoint a subordinate over a superior, and a distant relative over a close one.' In modern terms, what necessity is there? If someone abandons farming tools in the morning and joins the civil service by evening, people would accept it. The three clans of Lu, the seven clans of Zheng, and the three clans of Chu all dominated their lands. Even though they were as greedy as wolves, as cruel as sheep, and as foolish as pigs, their rulers still employed them. Talented scholars and common people, however, were suppressed by their clans, and countless of them died in the fields." Here, Zhang Sui exposes the dangers of the hereditary system of officials. In reality, what he describes is not limited to the great clans of ancient Lu, Zheng, and Chu. Connecting it to the Ming Dynasty's reality, the ugly phenomenon of a de facto hereditary system of officials is almost countless. I wonder if Zhang Sui did not live to see the downfall of Wei Zhongxian? During Wei Zhongxian's reign of terror, his nephew, son-in-law, and clan relatives rose to power one after another. His nephew, Wei Liangqing, was particularly typical. Originally, he farmed in his hometown of Suning, unable to read even a large character, yet Wei Zhongxian promoted him to high positions, from an assistant in the Bureau of Embroidered Uniforms to overseeing the Southern Town Pacification Commission, and later enfeoffed as the Marquis of Suning and the Duke of Ning, even granted the title of Grand Tutor (a very high honor in the Ming Dynasty), seemingly ascending to the heavens. However, the higher one climbs, the harder one falls. After Wei Zhongxian's downfall, Wei Liangqing said during his trial, "I grew up in the countryside, content with farming—I had no need for wealth or status. Today, I am praised for my achievements, tomorrow, I am lauded for my virtue. My merits are great, and I deserve rewards. But I never expected to be forced into power as a eunuch's nephew, wearing robes and insignia. Those who praise me and laud me are the ones who forced me into wealth—I have no!" (From The Collection of Essays from Tian Jue Hall, Volume 19, Chou Yin Wen Jian Zhi, Ming-era edition by Xue Gang.) Wei Liangqing's words are truly worth highlighting. "Forced by wealth," how profound! Even in the last century, on the Chinese political stage, were there not farmers, vegetable sellers, weavers, and security guards from factories, etc., who were suddenly "forced" into the highest echelons of power? How many of them are still around today? The Chinese people are perfectly clear. Clearly, because Zhang Sui had profound historical insight, he could offer deep and enlightening insights when discussing the past and the present. Throughout The Thousand-Year Eye, every passage contains genuine wisdom. Connecting this to Sima Qian's "understanding the changes between the past and the present," whether in governance, scholarship, or writing, without a historical perspective, one is bound to be short-sighted. On a grand scale, it can lead to national disaster; on a small scale, it results in mediocrity and prevents great achievements. Therefore, I named this series of selected historical essays "The Thousand-Year Eye Collection." Although only I among the authors of this series majored in history and have dedicated my career to studying the past, the other contributors—such as the esteemed He Manzi, Mu Hui, Chen Siyi, Xiong Zhaozheng, Li Qiao, and Wu Liyang—are all well-read scholars with deep knowledge of history. Their historical essays observe the past and the present, always using a thousand-year perspective to illuminate the past and the present. Calling them the "Thousand-Year Eye" is well-deserved. Unfortunately, Mu Hui passed away unexpectedly on June 8, 2004. On June 7, he called me and asked about this series, and I replied that I was still planning it. Now that the series is about to be published, he will not see it, and I cannot help but feel sorrow. Li Qiao is a close friend I met shortly after moving to Beijing, with whom I have exchanged thoughts for over twenty years. After finishing his contribution, he fell seriously ill. Fortunately, after major surgery, he survived the ordeal and is now recovering. I hope the publication of this book will be a sincere blessing for my dear friend Li Qiao. On this occasion, I would also like to sincerely wish the esteemed Wang Yuanhua, who inscribed the cover for this series, good health and longevity.