Crying lilies: Did Sanmao die of murder?

Author: Zhang Jingran
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-01-01
Features: In Memory of Sanmao
In January 4, 2001, the 10th anniversary of Sanmao's passing, I dedicated the book "Crying Lilies - Did Sanmao Die by Murder?" as a sincere tribute to Sanmao in the afterlife and to her countless readers. Some might argue that Sanmao has been gone for a decade, and discussing her death would disturb her peace in the heavens. Others might say that with so much time having passed, the cause of her death is futile beyond sorrow. However, I do not share this view. I agree with the late Xian Xian, a reporter, writer, and close friend of Sanmao for over a decade, who believed, "The best way to Sanmao is to study her works, and correctly determining the cause of her death should also be a key aspect of studying her literature—understanding the person is one of the ways to discuss literature."
For some time, I tried to force myself to believe the Taiwanese police's report that Sanmao died of "suicidal fatigue," but I couldn’t. As a researcher of Sanmao and her works, through thorough and extensive investigation and study, I discovered numerous inconsistencies and unexplained mysteries surrounding her death. Even the Taiwanese police struggled to explain them. On January 8, 1991, the Taiwanese newspaper "Today's" quoted Mrs. Miao Jinlan, Sanmao's mother, as saying, "Sanmao’s death was neither suicide nor homicide; it was a mystery." If forced to explain, it could only be called a "natural return to the." But this "natural return" was merely a desperate justification.
Mr. Gu Jitang, a Taiwan literature expert from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, noted, "Mrs. Miao’s words primarily deny the possibility of Sanmao’s suicide but lack clear evidence of foul play. She did not dismiss her daughter’s suicide lightly but backed her stance with substantial facts." Mrs. Miao’s doubts about Sanmao’s suicide were based on the following observations:
First, the drip stand in the bathroom was only 160 cm above the ground; even with her toes fully extended, she could easily reach the floor. Second, the hospital room door was ajar, easily pushed open, showing no signs of suicidal preparation. Third, the silk stocking around her neck showed no signs of being pulled or strained—it was simply dangling loosely. Mrs. Miao said, "Even doctors and prosecutors found it strange—this death had no pathological cause."
Sanmao’s older brother, Chen Sheng, also questioned the police’s claim of "suicidal fatigue." The legend of Sanmao’s "suicidal fatigue" was far from believable. Sanmao’s thoughts differed from ordinary people, and illness was not a motive for suicide. Many, including Sanmao’s family, close friends like Xian Xian and the writer Li Ang, did not believe she took her own life.
On the third anniversary of Sanmao’s passing, Xian Xian wrote in "The Legend of Lilies - In Memory of Sanmao": How could someone as optimistic, resilient, and full of life—one who celebrated and encouraged the meaning of life in her works and actions, who tirelessly urged others to live bravely—end her own life by suicide?
According to my observations, six months before her death, Sanmao had already overcome the grief of losing Huo Xi. Hardship had made her stronger and more mature, with a more positive outlook on life. This was a period when she had the most confidence in her writing and life, and her humanistic spirit and passion were at their peak. Although long-term exhaustion had affected her health—causing insomnia—this could not have weakened her will. At this stage, she had no reason to take her own life.
In the same article, Xian Xian insisted that life and death were significant in life. Death was not just the end of life but also its highest fulfillment. Sanmao’s death remains a mystery. I believe uncovering this mystery and clarifying the truth are crucial for Sanmao. Too many people loved her works, admired her character, and were inspired by her. Yet, she was "suicidal," which caused confusion, distress, and even harm. People began to doubt the consistency between what she said and what she did—how could she preach optimism while taking her own life? This suspicion tarnished her noble image in many hearts.
Xian Xian wrote angrily: To call Sanmao’s death suicide is an injustice to her, even an insult to her character.
Now, discussing this is not about responsibility. I am simply fighting for justice for my dear friend and restoring her true image. I firmly believe that Sanmao’s works and personality were entirely consistent. To label her death as suicide is a reckless and irresponsible conclusion.
Xian Xian later called on more friends of Sanmao, literary figures, and even psychologists to support this argument. However, due to the specific circumstances of that time and his limited understanding of Sanmao’s later thoughts, especially her three trips to mainland China, Xian Xian, with a journalist’s and writer’s good intentions, concluded that "Sanmao died from overexertion for her literary career, her friends, and social welfare, her heart and soul exhausted."
Now, with the layers of mystery surrounding Sanmao’s life and death dispelled, looking back at her passing becomes clearer. At the time, few knew—or fully appreciated—how deeply Sanmao loved the Chinese nation and her great motherland, how passionate and unwavering her love was. Few knew how strongly she desired "the unification of the two sides of the strait" and the "reunion of the people." History teaches us not to but to think critically. How many truths are revealed only years later? If Sanmao did not die by suicide but was instead forced to be labeled as "suicidal fatigue" and hanged, would that not be deeply unfair to her!
After extensive research and verification, I now present this book, "Crying Lilies - Did Sanmao Die by Murder?"—on the 10th anniversary of her passing—to the beloved Sanmao in the heavens and to the countless readers who deeply cherished her. I wonder if the Sanmao in heaven would smile tearfully if she knew.
Dear readers, how do you think? Sanmao has left us, and a decade has passed. She is a mysterious spirit—even in life and death. In life, people weave tales of wonder; in death, they are lost in confusion. The police’s conclusion of "suicidal fatigue" is full of loopholes and mysteries, while the media’s frenzied reports of "suicide by hanging" divert attention from the truth. Many do not believe Sanmao could have taken her own life—"She still had so many things to do, personal matters, her parents’ matters, and matters of the two sides of the strait."
Sanmao’s three journeys to mainland China, her loud calls for the "reunion of the two sides of the strait," her desire to "spend the rest of her life in mainland China"—her lily-like love for the land, her nationality, and her homeland bloomed brilliantly under the sun, ultimately becoming a holy sacrifice, a crying spirit!