The Great Flowing River Read online

  The

  GREAT

  FLOWING

  RIVER

  巨流河

  The

  GREAT

  FLOWING

  RIVER

  巨流河

  A MEMOIR of CHINA, from MANCHURIA to TAIWAN

  Chi Pang-yuan

  齊邦媛

  EDITED AND TRANSLATED

  BY JOHN BALCOM

  WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY

  DAVID DER-WEI WANG

  Columbia University Press

  New York

  Columbia University Press

  Publishers Since 1893

  New York Chichester, West Sussex

  cup.columbia.edu

  Copyright © 2018 Chi Pang-yuan

  All rights reserved

  E-ISBN 978-0-231-54781-9

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Qi, Bangyuan | Balcom, John, editor, translator.

  Title: The great flowing river : a memoir of China, from Manchuria to Taiwan / Chi Pang-yuan ; edited and translated by John Balcom with an introduction by David Der-wei Wang.

  Other titles: Ju liu he. English

  Description: New York : Columbia University Press, 2018. | Includes index.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017055946 (print) | LCCN 2018013656 (ebook) | ISBN 9780231188401 (cloth : alk. paper)

  Subjects: LCSH: Qi, Bangyuan. | Sino-Japanese War, 1937–1945. | China—History—Civil War, 1945–1949 | China—History—1949– | Taiwan—History—1945– | Authors, Chinese—20th century—Biography.

  Classification: LCC PL2892.3.B36 (ebook) | LCC PL2892.3.B36 Z4613 2018 (print) | DDC 895.18/5103 [B]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017055946

  A Columbia University Press E-book.

  CUP would be pleased to hear about your reading experience with this e-book at [email protected].

  Cover design: Lisa Hamm

  Cover image: (digital composite) Photograph of Chi Pang-yuan provided by the author and river photograph © plainpicture/Kati Kakamo

  Contents

  Preface to the English Edition

  CHI PANG-YUAN

  Translator’s Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  1. My Homeland in Song

  2. A Journey of Blood and Tears: The Eight Years of the War of Resistance

  3. With Me, China Shall Not Perish: Nankai Middle School

  4. At the Confluence of Three Rivers: University Life

  5. Victory: Empty, Everything Is Empty

  6. Taiwan: Trials and Hardships

  7. Spiritual Descendants

  8. University Teaching, Taiwan, and Literature

  9. Confirmation of This Life: From the Great Flowing River to the Sea of Silence

  Illustrations

  Index

  Preface to the English Edition

  CHI PANG-YUAN

  Since I came to Taiwan in 1947, the memories of the twenty-four years of my life lived in war-torn China have haunted me like a second reality. I came of age during a historic time when my country was united to resist the Japanese invasion.

  The twentieth century is not too long ago. Gigantic human griefs were buried with it. Its indescribable sufferings have lingered for three generations now. There still are some middle-aged grandchildren looking for the graves or bones of the missing soldiers. After the 1949 national divide, remembrances were mostly smothered; the blood of the martyrs and the tears of the exiled have gradually become untraceable.

  All these seventy years I spent my time reading and teaching, trying to push the overbearing nostalgia to the corner of my mind, but my heart rebels. It still bears the invisible scars of war. My soul sometimes still trembles with the fathomless sorrows of a lifelong exile.

  When I finally determined to write down my memories to ease my heart, it was quite late. I was convinced that I could only start from the limited scope of my own experience, with my lifelong respect and tribute to those who fought so that I might live. I had to write the book for the millions who died in the war and the tens of millions who became exiles, like my own parents. I cannot leave this world without commemorating the many unsung heroes who lost their lives for an unprecedented national cause. Through them, I saw how the human spirit, with fortitude and grace, can soar despite the darkness.

  How fortunate I was when my young friends Shan Te-hsing, Chien Chen, and Li Huei-mian miraculously appeared as angels and extended their timely encouragement and actual help. Without their steady conviction and cheer, I might have escaped again when things looked too overwhelming for me to handle.

  I am deeply grateful to Professor David Der-wei Wang for being my tireless proponent and the best taskmaster one could ask for. Without his avid support and direction, the English version of my book would have been interminably delayed. Based on his profound understanding of the background of our long exile, his introduction to this book is the most lucid and sympathetic guide for readers fortunate to have been born during the peaceful second half of the twentieth century.

  I must also commend my translator, Mr. John Balcom, for giving my story the equivalent of an English voice. I am aware that translation is an interpretative act as well as a creative one, and he has done a fine job on both accounts.

  My heartfelt thanks also go out to my dear friends Leung Yanwing and Nancy Du for helping me review the English manuscript. I would also like to thank Ms. Jennifer Crewe, Christine Dunbar, and Leslie Kriesel of Columbia University Press for their editorial expertise.

  Since my book was published in 2009 in Chinese, letters from readers all over the world have flooded my desk, telling me that I have also told their story. These emotional letters, many handwritten in shaky script, describe in great detail places I should have known as a child in northwest China (though I never had a chance to go back to my homeland). Some talk of the people we knew in common and their cherished memory. Together our tales become a tapestry of interconnected destinies and kinship. As I pore over these familiar stories line by line from people I have never met, I feel the veil of sorrow I have carried all these years begin to lift. It is a homecoming of sorts.

  Chi Pang-yuan

  Spring 2018

  Translator’s Acknowledgments

  Professor Chi Pang-yuan’s autobiography stands out among a number of recent popular autobiographies from Taiwan. Her personal narrative provides a fascinating overview of wartime China and postwar Taiwan. For me personally the book has additional importance because I have known and worked with the author for what is now decades.

  I would like to thank Chi Pang-yuan for her assistance throughout the long translation and editing process. Chapters 8, 9, and 10 of the original book have been abridged, primarily in accordance with the recommendations made by Professor Chi, and combined to form chapter 8 of this translation. It was felt that the abridged passages were often too detailed with the minutiae of government, politics, academia, and other areas to be of much interest to readers outside Taiwan.

  A number of other people who have been involved in the project over the last few years also deserve mention. I am grateful to David Wang for his support for this project and for the introduction he has provided. Peter Bernstein has also been instrumental in moving the project forward.

  Several chapters of this translation originally appear in Renditions, the prestigious Chinese–English translation journal published by the Research Centre for Translation at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, which I am pleased to see reprinted here. I wish to express my sincere thanks to Ted Huters and the folks at Renditions for their invaluable input.

  In Taiwan I would like to thank Nancy Du and Yanwing Leung, who read several of the chapters an
d provided comments and suggestions.

  At Columbia University Press, I wish to thank Christine Dunbar for shepherding this book through to publication. Leslie Kriesel, my editor, also deserves thanks for another fine job with her usual keen eye and attention to detail.

  Last but not least, I wish to thank my wife, Yingtsih, for her assistance and support.

  John Balcom

  Introduction

  Professor Chi Pang-yuan is a highly respected scholar, educator, writer, and translator in Taiwan. Her memoir, The Great Flowing River, first published in the summer of 2009, was a best-seller that won critical acclaim both on mainland China and among overseas Chinese communities. Its publication was regarded as a major event in Taiwan’s literary scene. In her 250,000-word memoir, Chi recounts the ups and downs of her remarkably eventful life—beginning with her exile from northeastern to central and southwestern China, then from the mainland to the island of Taiwan. She grew up with war, death, and exile at her heels, casting shadows over her life. Her life in Taiwan, spanning more than sixty years, stands testament to how a generation of “mainlanders” exiled from China managed to put down roots there.

  Memoirs similar to The Great Flowing River have been published on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, and some of the experiences recounted are just as storied as Professor Chi’s, if not more so. Why has this particular book received so much attention? I believe The Great Flowing River is so readable because Professor Chi has written a book that is more than just an autobiography. Through the telling of her story, she touches upon various ineluctable turning points in the contemporary history of China: the dramatic and turbulent changes in northeastern China and Taiwan—her two “homelands”; the Chinese intelligentsia in diaspora and their all-consuming sense of upheaval; as well as the frustrations and courage of women in academia. More significantly, as a teacher of literature, Professor Chi asserts over and over again why we must insist on the importance of literature, especially that created during this woeful period in history.

  Can The Great Flowing River not be considered a literary masterpiece too? Many readers were deeply touched by the chapters of her life recounted in the book. Professor Chi’s descriptions of people and events are indeed touching, but the key might really lie in her narrative style. The period of time covered by The Great Flowing River was short on happiness and long on sadness. Professor Chi says that she grew up “in a vale of tears.” Yet, so many years later, she has chosen to write about those heartrending events in the most restrained way. The emotions run deep, yet she holds them at bay. This is only possible if you have seen it all. The Great Flowing River starts in northeast China and ends at the Yakou Sea in Taiwan. From the roaring waves to the calm currents, Professor Chi tells the story of her stalwart life with dignity and literary finesse.

  The Great Flowing River is a sad story. The sadness isn’t just a projection of Professor Chi’s personal sentiments. Rather, it is an emotional reflection of her entire generation. Professor Chi is one of the lucky ones, thanks to her family background, education, and accomplishments. Yet under the surface of her life story, she outlines the pursuits and regrets, the hopes and bewilderment of her contemporaries. Professor Chi was born in Tie-ling in Liaoning Province. She left her homeland when she was six years old, and during the seventeen years that followed, she traveled all over China. In 1947, by coincidence, she became a teaching assistant in the Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures at National Taiwan University, and she ended up settling in Taiwan for over sixty years. From northeast China to Taiwan, from six years to sixty years, these two places have affected her heart and soul—one is where she was born, and the other is where she has built a life. The subtle interaction between these two places and the huge sense of tragedy embodied in history contribute to the tour de force of this book.

  There is a great distance between northeast China and Taiwan. The geography and demography of the two regions differ significantly. Yet both share similar fates in contemporary Chinese history, and the fate of one is actually the mirror reflection of the other’s. Northeastern China was originally the territory of the Manchurians, vast and sparsely populated. It wasn’t until 1870 that the Han Chinese were allowed to settle and cultivate the land in its three provinces. Taiwan is an isolated offshore island, and it wasn’t until the nineteenth century that immigrants from the coastal provinces of China started to arrive en masse. These two places were targeted by the imperialist forces in the East as well as the West at the onset of the twentieth century. After the first Sino-Japanese War in 1895, Taiwan and the Liaodong Peninsula were ceded to Japan. Later, jurisdiction over the Liadong Peninsula was a point of contention among imperial Russia, France, and Germany, and after many rounds of negotiations, China “bought back” the peninsula from Japan. With the intervention of so many forces, these two places experienced a lot of strife and commotion. In the fifty years that followed, Taiwan became a colony of Japan; the northeast experienced the Russo-Japanese War (1905) and the September 18 Incident (1931), and under the orchestration of Japan, it became the Kingdom of Manchukuo (1932–1945).

  Culturally and politically, both the northeast and Taiwan have tense and complicated relationships with their “motherland.” The people in both regions were often immigrants, who tend to be bolder and more rebellious in nature. They were also accustomed to oppression by those in power. This gave them a sense of dolor, and they often felt wronged. The Great Flowing River doesn’t deal much with the history of these two places, but if readers cannot comprehend the complicated sentiments that the author has toward them, then they will not be able to appreciate what she tries to say in the book. The life of Mr. Chi Shiying (1899–1987), Professor Chi’s father, provides a historical and political context, linking the narratives of the northeast and Taiwan.

  Mr. Chi Shiying was a member of the elite who studied in Japan and Germany on scholarships provided by the warlord Zhang Zuolin. This was a tremendous privilege, considering the insularity of the northeast during that time. Mr. Chi Shiying had lofty ambitions. In 1925, he returned to Shenyang from Germany and was introduced to General Guo Songling (1883–1925). The Russians and Japanese were invading the northeast, and yet the local warlords were at each other’s throats. This greatly infuriated General Guo, and he attempted to stage a coup against Generalissimo Zhang. Mr. Chi joined the movement as a scholar, but luck and circumstances were not on General Guo’s side. He was defeated at the Great River and killed. Mr. Chi went into exile.

  The Great River that couldn’t be crossed: this became a significant moment in the history of China, ushering in years of pain and suffering to the northeast. If General Guo had succeeded in crossing the Great River, if the coup had been successful, could the September 18 Incident and the Xi’an Incident have been averted? Could the northeast have been modernized sooner? If the central government had paid more attention to the region, then Manchukuo might not have been set up, and the Sino-Japanese War might not have happened, not to mention the war between the Nationalists and the Chinese Communists. But history is not a presupposition; nor can it be rewritten. Chi Shiying’s exile had just started. He went into the heartland of China and joined the Nationalists. They put him in charge of party affairs in the northeast. He also founded the Sun Yat-sen Middle School for students in exile from the northeast. At the end of the war, Chi Shiying received orders to rebuild his homeland and coordinate personnel in the region. To his dismay, the Nationalist officials responsible for the handover were corrupt and inept, controlled by the Russians who made life miserable for the people living in the northeast. Later the Chinese Communists rose to power, and the northeast was the first region to fall. The Nationalists lost the war, and Chi Shiying went into exile once more.

  In the oral history that he dictated in his later years, Chi Shiying described his long-held disagreements with the Nationalists’ central committee. But he did not accuse the Nationalists outright, and the oral history recorded only up to 1949. The Great Flowing
River is essentially a daughter’s recollections of her father, and the angle adopted is of course very different. The book narrates what happened to Chi Shiying after he arrived in Taiwan. In 1954, Chi Shiying made Chiang Kai-shek very angry because he was opposed to the policy of increasing the price of electricity in order to feed the army. His penalty was expulsion from the Nationalist Party. In 1960, he was almost imprisoned for forming a new political party with Lei Zhen, a recalcitrant liberal, and others. In the second half of his life, Chi fought for the livelihood and rights of people in Taiwan. His innate anti-Chiang sentiments stemmed from his identity as a northeasterner. The northeast and Taiwan were both pawns of Chiang’s regime.

  The Great River that couldn’t be crossed. In his old age, Chi Shiying’s days were filled with loneliness and remorse. Nevertheless, he remained steadfast and true to himself and his convictions until the end. The karma between this man of honor from the northeast and Taiwan was to be inherited by his daughter.

  Chi Pang-yuan came to Taiwan after the retrocession. At that time, Taiwan was still heavily influenced by the Sino-Japanese War, and the February 28 Incident—a bloody crackdown launched by the Nationalists on local rioters in 1947—had just happened. Civil war raged on in China, and there was a lot of uncertainty. Against this backdrop, a young lady from northeast China embarked upon her new life.

  Professor Chi has always had a strong affinity with Taiwan. This happened long before the 1990s, when it was considered to be politically correct. She was the first scholar to pay attention to Chinese-language literature produced in Taiwan and pushed vehemently for its translation into English. Many of the writers she was close to were opposed to the Nationalist Party and even the “mainlanders.” Regardless of how the political landscape changed, their friendships remained steadfast. Professor Chi’s magnanimity stems from an I-know-what-you’ve-been-through kind of empathy—she understood that in the minds and hearts of the Taiwanese people, there too was a Great River that couldn’t be crossed. Taiwan has had much to lose and has lost much in the currents of history. Books such as Orphan of Asia and Wintry Night—masterpieces available in English through Columbia University Press—describing the fate of Taiwan found an avid reader and supporter in a northeasterner from China.