My Eyes Are Fixed on You

As I clicked on “The Basic Annals of Xiang Yu” in The Records of the Grand Historian by Sima Qian (c.134-90 BC) and rested my eyes on the name Xiang Yu (232-202 BC), known as the Overlord of Western Chu, immediately the deep running waters of Wujiang River that had carried his body, the river bank that had absorbed his blood, and the cold light of his sword that had shone in the darkness of the night, played out before me like a short movie.

You mighty warrior! I can’t imagine you’ve been hiding in the book of history for more than a thousand years.

First Look

As I begin to read your story slowly, I feel compelled to pause and ponder.

207 BC, just a year before the end of the Qin Dynasty (221-206 BC), was a year of change. After assassinating Qin Ershi (Second Qin Emperor) and installing Ziying (Third Qin Emperor) as a puppet on the throne, the treacherous and ruthless eunuch Zhao Gao ruled over the country with a bunch of yes men who went so far as to follow him in calling a deer a horse (Zhao was killed by Ziying later in the same year). As a native of Chu, you were confident enough to predict that “Chu would be the terminator of Qin even if there were only three Chu households left.” And indeed, the 300,000 strong Qin army was not your match.

You made your name after winning the Battle of Julu (in present-day Xingtai, Hebei Province) in 207 BC.

The surrendering dukes who knelt before you in your army tent must have done so out of reverence and admiration for you rather than out of fear of your power. How I rejoice at seeing your valor at this very first meeting of ours after I have traveled through a thousand years! You are indeed a hero of heroes!

Second Look

My second look at your life finds you at a shockingly tight spot.

That moonlit night, the stars were fading away. Behind the curtains of your tent you sipped a lonely drink as your pale-faced Yu danced gracefully. You looked at each other silently, eyes streaming with tears. It was the eighth year of your military career. Through eight cycles of spring flowers and autumn moon you certainly have witnessed all of your remarkable deeds. In the quiet of the night, you could easily recall how you won that decisive battle against Qin through peerless valor and unbending resolve, how you never lost a single battle previously, how you let go of Liu Bang(1) (256-195 BC) at the Hongmen Banquet when you could have easily killed him, how you burned down the Epang Palace…. After triumphing over the hardest battles and the harshest storms ever, how could you possibly reconcile yourself to hitting a snag in a little river? Could your troubled soul find any solace in the amber glow of the moon?

Encircled on all sides by Han enemies who were singing Chu folksongs that made you think they were already conquerors on your home turf, you knew you stood little chance of surviving the battle. But you blinked away the tears that were about to drop into your alcohol goblet any way.

Your Consort Yu took a look at the sword that had made so many shudder as she threw her neck into its long blade. “I shall be dancing with Your Majesty in heaven,” she said, and a stream of blood spurted out of her, producing a red flash of light in the air. You probably wanted to cry like an erupting volcano, but had to suppress the “lava” gushing out of your throat and hold your tears in check.

Mounted on the black steed, you led 300 men in a final attempt to break through, but being outnumbered, you had only 28 men left by the time you reached the bank of Wujiang River. The head of your home village had a boat ready to take you home. An escape and an eventual comeback were still possible, but you had other thoughts. Being aware of the terrible ravages and the deep wounds that war had inflicted on the country, you ruled out that option out of concern for the well-being of your people. Sure enough, you remembered the 8,000 troops you had led forth with you when you first rose in arms, your hometown youths who had perished almost entirely. How aggrieved you must have been! The truth is, you could no longer bring yourself to face your own. So you turned down your village head’s offer of help and gave him your horse as a keepsake.

“A reward of 1,000 catties of gold and a fief of 10,000 households for Xiang Yu’s head,” Liu Bang’s army came hollering in the distance.

Before cutting your own throat, you saw a former subordinate of yours in the midst of a sea of enemy troops. You offered him your head as a trophy for his benefit.

The year was 202 BC.

Farewell

“Like flowers fallen on running waters, spring is no more. Alas! What a change!”(2)

“I so frequently miss Xiang Yu / Who chose death over returning to Jiangdong,” so wrote the poetess Li Qingzhao.

I too, can hardly forget you and I refuse to move my eyes away from you. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you did cross over to the other side of the river.

Farewell, Xiang Yu! Oh, Overlord of Western Chu! I cannot but gaze over remote time and space at you and my eyes refuse to part with you! You are dead, but your spirt shall live forever!

---

(1)Emperor Gaozu who founded the Han Dynasty after defeating Xiang Yu.

(2)From the poem Lang Tao Sha by Li Yu (c.937-978) of the Southern Tang Dynasty.

Legend

After the conquest of the the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368) by the first Ming emperor, i.e. Zhu Yuanzhang (1328-1398), most of the descendants of the Borjigins (a Mongol golden clan) went missing. Some died under enemy sword, some continued to serve as officials in the Ming government under new names, others fled into the deep recesses of the vast grassland….

Even so, the Ming emperor remained ill at ease. He ordered Bao Ji, his crony and vice minister of defense, into the grasslands to search for descendants of the golden clan. What the emperor did not know was the fact that Bao Ji, whose real name was Hadan Bater, was closely related to the Borjigins.

The vice minister was overjoyed for that mission. He immediately packed up and headed for the grasslands. The region was now sparsely populated, with no sheep or horses. No melodious pastorals were heard, no horsehead fiddle performances or kumiss…. Hadan Bater’s mood turned sour as he revisited his birthplace.

After examining that familiar pasture in detail, Hadan Bater discovered yellow sand beneath the low-lying green grass. He said to those around him: “This area must have been left desolate for a long time. Had it not rained heavily lately, there would have been no grass at all.”

His entourage was shocked upon hearing that. “If His Excellency was born in an interior region, how could he be so familiar with the environment over here?” They wondered. For fear of exposing his true ethnicity, Hadan Bater kept a low-profile and said: “I know very little. I am here because the emperor confided in me. I need to live up to that trust by doing a good job.” Cleared of their suspicions, the entourage followed him straight to the north.

After walking for quite a long time, they saw patches of green separated by lava-colored “scars” that looked as ugly as scabies on a human head. Too exhausted to walk, Hadan Bater’s minions began murmuring to one another: “The Borjigins used to carry so much weight and prestige, but now they are so down and out that people don’t even know where they are. Isn’t it sad?” “Who cares? It’s us who have to kick around over here,” someone said.

…

In fact, the vice minister had no idea that after serving the Ming for no more than two decades, such radical changes would take place on the grassland where his ancestors used to live.

Intuition told him they were now heading straight north.

Looking at the silhouette of the far-going wild geese in the greenish yellow clouds, he prayed quietly to Sky God for sustenance, protection and benediction. He heard about Sky God from his mom when he was a kid.

He believed in Him, and firmly too. He didn’t want to stop.

His associates were stopping for a respite and waiting for further instructions. When the horse he was riding on couldn’t go any further, Hadan Bater finally saw a forest of all-size pine trees with ugly branches that blocked much of the sun. By the forest ran a shallow river with limpid waters– a typical Mongol river. He was overcome with thirst, but withstood it anyway. Mongolian tradition and faith were what gave him the strength to forbear everything. The pine woods and that little stream were nothing spectacular, but somehow he felt he was in the right spot. So he stopped his horse right there and let it roam free on the grass while he himself lay down under a tree for a short break.

From time to time a few clouds drifted over from the blue sky. Hadan Bater was about to close his eyes when all of a sudden there came a child’s voice from the distance: “Is this your horse?” He was speaking Mongolian!

Hadan Bater was given a start and all his sleepiness was gone. Following the direction of the voice, he saw a child wearing a Mongol robe and a gold necklace lead a horse towards him.

“Is the horse yours?” The child asked, not in the least scared about the Ming official robe he was wearing.

“Yes,” he answered excitedly, “where are your kinsmen?”

The kid led Hadan Bater to a cave, where he saw vaguely his elder brother of Borjigin descent….

The brothers talked for a long time, until the sun went down. “Now that you’re a Ming official, you need to be loyal to your emperor. The fate of our family is sealed, so don’t try to turn back!” Hadan Bater was still dithering about leaving. “Go now! It’s all just a dream Sky God has given you,” the elder brother yelled as he pushed him out of the cave with all his might.

The sun was sinking, and only a few clouds were left in the sky. What had happened was so surreal. Could it have been just a dream? Was the cave real or just phantasy? He jumped on his horse and rushed back to where the cave was supposed to be. Unfortunately, he got lost and had to ride back and forth several times, and instead of finding that cave, all he saw was a wolf’s den at the foot of a hill.

So he quit looking for the cave any further. It was probably Sky God’s will. And so, he saluted the wolf’s den the Mongol way, feeling a surge of blood in his chest. He clapped his hands laughing. Aren’t Mongols supposed to be descendants of wolves?

This was where his ancestors used to live.

On the vast grassland, people tend to lose track of time. Hadan Bater felt he had been out there long enough, and he decided to hurry back to the capital. While on the way, he realized that the mission had no way of being carried out any further. As a minister of the Ming, he had no choice but to be faithful to the court. It had to be Sky God’s will, despite the fact that he was a Borjigin.

He soon joined his associates, who asked him curiously what he had discovered. He shook his head and said, “Nothing at all. There won’t be another mission like this anymore.” The Ming emperor was quite disappointed about the fruitlessness of the mission. Though he found it incredible, he stopped making any new efforts to look for the golden clan on the grasslands.

At this point, I suddenly woke up and realized it was all just a dream or a legend.