Beach Whispers

Author: Mu Hui
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-05-01
Features: When I was a child, I listened to adults telling myths and knew about the "" (all-seeing eye) and "" (all-hearing 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 had already made the mythical "" and "" a reality, with their magical functions even surpassing those in the myths. There was no "" in mythology. In historical records and anecdotes, there were occasional accounts of geniuses who predicted the future for centuries or even millennia, but those were nothing more than nonsense, not worth a laugh. The "Bakang Song" by Liu Bowen, which emerged in modern times, was a divination poem concocted by the people during times of war and turmoil—it was no more than a dreamer's delusion 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 ten-year Cultural Revolution, which had brought unprecedented disaster to the Chinese nation, and sought the roots of the chaos. At that time, I read The Thousand-Year Eye, a book written by Zhang Sui during the Wanli era of the Ming Dynasty. This book was not widely circulated and was not listed in the General Catalogue of the Four Treasuries, with only Ming-era printed copies and a from the Collected Works of Fiction and Notes passed down. The Institute of History at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, where I worked, had 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 have had a historical perspective, otherwise why would he call it The Thousand-Year Eye? After finishing the book, I realized my guess was correct. Zhang Sui was indeed a scholar with a historical perspective. The book discussed the past and analyzed the present, transcending a millennium and often standing at the height of history to observe the ancients and the moderns, occasionally shining with intellectual sparks. For example, in the first volume, it states: "Although King Wu disliked the officials of the Zhou dynasty, he could not change their ingrained habits, and over time, it became difficult to do so. Mencius said, 'When a ruler promotes virtuous men, if necessary, he will let the humble displace the noble, and the distant surpass the kin.' In modern terms, what necessity is there? If one abandons farming tools in the morning and joins the civil service by evening, people would still be content. The three clans of Lu, the seven clans of Zheng, and the three clans of Chu all dominated their realms. Even though they were as greedy as wolves, as cruel as sheep, and as foolish as pigs, their kings still employed them. Talented scholars and common people, however, were suppressed by clans, and countless of them died in the fields." Here, Zhang Sui exposed the harms of the hereditary system of officials. In reality, what he described was not limited to the great clans of ancient Lu, Zheng, and Chu. Connecting to the Ming Dynasty's reality, the ugly phenomenon of a de facto hereditary system of officials was rampant and 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 prominence 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 a clerk in the Embroidered Uniform Guard 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 to farm—I had no need for wealth or status. Today, I am praised for my merits, tomorrow, lauded for my virtue. My merits and virtues are great, and I should naturally be enfeoffed. But I never expected to be forced into power as a eunuch's nephew, and now I am burdened with robes and insignia. Those who praise my merits and virtue are forcing me into wealth—I have no crime!" (From Chou Yin Wen Jian Zhi in Tian Jue Tang Wen Ji by Xue Gang, a Ming-era printing.) Wei Liangqing's words are truly worth quoting. "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? For a time, under a collapsing nest, there were no unscathed eggs—where are they now? The Chinese people are perfectly clear. Clearly, it was precisely because Zhang Sui had a profound historical perspective that 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 past and present," whether in governance, scholarship, or writing, without a historical perspective, one is inevitably 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, who majored in history and have dedicated my career to studying the past, am the editor of this series, the other authors—such as the literary elder He Manzi, and 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 examine the present, always using a thousand-year perspective to illuminate the past and the present. Calling them "thousand-year eyes" is well-deserved. My colleague and friend Mu Hui passed away unexpectedly on June 8, 2004. On June 7, he called me and asked about the series—I replied that I was still planning it. Now that the series is about to be published, he cannot 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 two decades. After finishing his contribution, he fell seriously ill, but thankfully, after major surgery, he survived the ordeal and is now recovering. May the publication of this book be a sincere blessing for my dear friend Li Qiao. On this occasion, I also sincerely wish the elder scholar Wang Yuanhua, who inscribed the cover of this series, good health and longevity.