China Boy, by Kay Haugaard

For a change of pace, this is a review of the above book. 

It is a pleasant, quiet read; a fictional account of a young man who arrives in the California Gold Rush from Guangdong.  The story is somewhat idealized so we are spared real nastiness although the author writes about the rise of anti-Chinese feelings that ultimately produced the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1880.  To keep the score even, there are nasty moments among the Chinese themselves--greed, jealousy, tongs.


With hard work and the help of some friendly Chinese and non-Chinese, the main character thrives and finds his sister--presumed lost in some floods in Guangdong, she has actually made her own way to the Beautiful Country.  The author, writing in 1971, found the sister's bound feet worthy of remark.  Perhaps it is but most traditional Chinese prefer not to speak about it. The author presents a truer picture of the success of the Chinese in that period in showing how many prospered in the restaurants and laundry establishments as opposed to striking it rich in the mines.  In general, it has been remarked, more money was made off the miners than in the mines; logically, this presents a puzzle for economists.  The book does not go into the railroad building and other later activities and troubles of the immigrants.  The plot and character development in the book do not invite comment.


Many books have been written about the coming of the Chinese to America, from Gunther Barth's pioneering (1964) Bitter Strength and T. Y. Char's edition of recollections (1975) of those who made it to The Sandalwood Mountains (Hawaii).  The most detailed recent work of H. M Lai (2004) Becoming Chinese American focused on the Chinese in California arriving before the Exclusion Act and the social and other organizations they created.  It is safe to say that the descendants of those who arrived in the 19th century are not conscious of being foreign in America.

Spy novel: work in progress

THE NORTH KOREAN DEALER

(A suburb of Shanghai)

By sheer and meaningless coincidence, the North Korean arms dealer Kim arrived in Shanghai the same day as the Spymaster and his party returned to Beijing from their journey to the West.  Kim arrived in a small jet as the traffic from Pyongyang was tiny relative to that from London or almost any other part of the world to China.  His flight had been brief and uneventful, from one tightly controlled part of the world to another.

Kim looked forward to a week of relatively greater freedom in Shanghai; he had a couple of friends to visit with, old school and army chums now on various missions for their country.  He intended to do a little shopping, to pick up gifts for his mother and sisters.  Of course, he would indulge in a taste he had developed in his earlier career in the North Korean foreign ministry serving in Eastern Europe—that for blondes of well nourished proportions.

Passport control posed no issue for Kim as he was scrupulous with his documents although he could also count on the alliance between his country and the People’s Republic.  This was true also of his passage through customs control.  Kim was not so foolish as to try to smuggle anything through China; not only did he have nothing to declare, he had nothing he had brought with him except for his briefcase.  His bodyguards Ban and Kang would have all their hardware cleared in a diplomatic pouch as pre-arranged by their Embassy.

Kim’s life in North Korea offered every comfort and protection that the state could provide.  In China, he would enjoy the protection of the local police in addition to that of his personal body-guards and the security detail from his Embassy.  His two body guards were from the elite corps that protected the leadership of the state; they would each take a twelve hour shift and the security detail consisted of three two-man teams that would each take an eight hour shift.  Perhaps the East European flesh peddlers would have made additional arrangements as well, for he was one of their most important—profitable--customer.  Kim had heard that there were negotiations between them and a local underworld gang and it amused him to consider the irony of such a situation.

He walked through the busy airport oblivious to discreet video and personal tracking of his movement through to the curb and paid no heed to anyone who followed his car as it sped off to his safe-house.  He was only mildly irritated to find that they were stuck in a traffic jam that seemed to stretch in every direction as far as the eye could see.  It could mean an extra hour for him to brush up on Ukrainian so he put on the earplugs of his mp3 player.  Then he paused and changed his mind and speed-dialed a number.

“Hello,” said an accented voice, neutral in tone.

“Viktor, Kim here.  I wondered if Nadia might be available in an hour or so—we are stuck in traffic from the Airport. … Also, I wondered if she might be available for a week.”

There was a slight pause before Viktor responded:  “Of course, Mr. Kim.  I shall call you back if there is any problem.  If not, you can expect Nadia at your place in an hour and a half.”

Kim heaved a sigh; this was a new departure.  He had known Nadia, her working name, since he met her in Kiev more than ten years ago.  They had met from time to time until Kim returned to North Korea.  A couple of years later, she showed up in Shanghai and they had resumed their occasional dalliance.  But he had usually seen her for a night or two and there had always been others.  Now … life might be getting complicated.

Nadia had the radiant look of Renoir’s women; she might have just stepped out of one of his paintings minus forty pounds or so but with her bust-line intact.  She was always ready and enthusiastic without any off-putting, metallic hint of professionalism.  If she bore any scars physical or emotional from her life, Kim had not detected them.  She was comfortable with silence; she was happy to chat, and she was not embarrassed to admit ignorance of this or that. 

She never inquired about Kim’s work even when he spoke of his frustrations and stress and, whether he was able to spend an hour with her or a day, she accepted the situation with equanimity and good cheer.  When they first met, he was nearly thirty and she was in her early twenties.  The years had been kind to her; she might have gained some gravitas but not an ounce of avoirdupois.

In a following car, Agent Li, formerly the Sergeant Major, compared his notes with those of his Shanghai police liaison, Old Gong.  This police liaison had been arranged with Commissioner Wen, the Spymaster’s friend on the Committee on Public Safety.  Old Gong belonged to a national command for counter-terrorism that did not report to regional authority, that is, the Shanghai metropolitan police command. 

Li was aware that he had much to learn about following a suspect from his seasoned police companion and was relieved to hear that he had committed no serious errors.  The policeman on the other hand was impressed that the intelligence agency had actually asked for his assistance.  Inter-agency relations, even inter-departmental ones within the police force, tended to be on the short side of courteous.

As Kim arrived at his safe house, another car drove up and Nadia stepped out with a small valise.  She smiled and slipped an arm through Kim’s and the couple entered, followed discreetly by the bodyguards.  Kim showered as Nadia made herself comfortable, and then they embraced and slipped into bed hungrily. 

“I have missed you, Nadia.”

“It is good to see you, Kim.  I am glad you are safe.”

***

At about the same time as Kim started going to school, his father began service in the elite corps serving as bodyguards to the Great Leader (Kim Il-Sung, no relation).  By the time the Eternal President passed away, Kim’s father was well established in the hierarchy of the Party.  His standing helped pave the way for Kim’s progress through the Army and then in the foreign affairs ministry.  Kim was not exempt from the political indoctrination and military training required of all, but his father’s influence put him into the most favorable positions possible and under the most sympathetic mentors he could have had.  It also made life comfortable for his mother and his sisters.

The posting to various embassies in East Europe were far from luxurious.  Like many other North Koreans abroad, Kim was expected to generate revenue for the State.  From generic smuggling to drug running, Kim quickly moved to arms dealing.  He had a flair for negotiations.  His very first customer was desperately in need of ammunition of certain kinds.  Kim checked with North Korean Army Logistics and learned who were the most likely suppliers and then tracked down who were their recent and not so recent purchasers. 

He was dogged in his pursuit of details and actually enjoyed the give and take of the bargaining process.  For this customer and many others to follow, he learned who had inventory to spare and his instincts led him surely to the limits of each exchange.  When these transactions were successfully concluded, Kim’s earnings for the State accumulated to a substantial amount; even more valuable was the enhancement to his reputation for this would provide him with customer referrals and repeat business.  

The confusion in the armed forces of the states newly independent from the Soviet Union undoubtedly furnished him with many of his solutions.  But by far the greatest advantage Kim had was his willingness to work incredibly long hours and, perhaps even more important, to consider the possibility that three or four trades might be required to provide the solution for a particular customer. 

On one occasion he created a daisy chain of deals involving six parties—a beleaguered drug cartel in South American with cash to burn but running out of hardware, a cash-strapped African warlord, two rogue elements in different Middle Eastern armies, a cynical sub-contractor working for the West, and an Afghan warlord.  Each party required two weeks work each--compressed into two days for Kim.  In the end, each party got what it wanted, at a slightly higher price than it had originally been willing to pay.  Kim’s legend grew wildly, but he was thoroughly exhausted.

In the fifteenth year of his career as arms dealer, he learned about the Pashtuns and the opportunity to earn 30 million Euros for a product his country manufactured.  This was for him the equivalent to what had famously, fatuously, been described at a world-historical moment as a “slam-dunk.”    

***

“Nadia, would you tell me your real name?”

“Why?  Nobody uses it anymore!”

“What is it?  Surely, you don’t use Nadia for your passport.”

Nadia looked at Kim with unrehearsed questions in her eyes.  In Kim’s she saw unresolved hope, wishful thinking, and weariness.  Kim himself was wondering what he had started.

“I tell you anyway; it is Oksana Brodsky.  But you know my life--I must live one day at a time-- it is easier to stick to Nadia.”

“Thank you Nadia--Oksana Brodsky.  Perhaps you are right.”  He smiled then asked:  “Would you like to go shopping tomorrow?”

As Nadia beamed, he added, “I need to visit with a couple of friends so I’ll drop you off at a nearby shopping mall and pick you up in three or four hours.  Get yourself three or four dresses.”

“Will we eat out or …?”

“What would you prefer?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get all dressed up but eat in.”

“That’s fine with me.  I’ll have Ban order for us.”

“And not Chinese food, if you can manage, please.”

“We can manage that.”

They embraced again and Kim resumed his exploration of Nadia’s voluptuous curves, luxuriating in pneumatic bliss.

REVIEW: Lee Fullbright, The Angry Woman Suite

This novel is very well-written with a strong voice.  The voice overwhelms the three points of view from which the story is told:  Elysse, the step-daughter; Francis, the step-father, and Aidan, Francis’ school teacher and mentor who is friend to both.  Each has a small group of significant companions—the wise and good grandfather, the damaged aunt, the lovers, and above all Magdalene, David’s mother and the model for the Angry Woman Suite, a set of ten paintings.  These paintings were intended, we are told, to represent a marriage, but we are also told, there is nothing loving about them.  The novel, like the paintings, is suffused with anger, hate and pain—“the hurting is always caused by someone who loves you and you love back.”

Of Magdelene herself, it is said that she is “suspended between avoidance and obsession.”  Like one of the characters in an episode, the reader moves through the story as if striding through “corridors redolent of old urine and spent dreams.”  What love shows through in brief moments here and there in the novel appears when there is comfort that comes from “recognition of the beloved.”  Withall, this is a bleak and unsettling story; yet, it is nonetheless a compelling read.

Now we know--that the corollary of a Romantic piety is not true--that our saddest thoughts do not yield our sweetest songs.  But they do yield novels that deserve to be read. 

John LeCarre, An Appreciation

John LeCarre gave us an alternative to the glitzy hi-jinks of James Bond in 1963 with The Spy Who Came in From the Cold and followed up in 1974 with Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.  Otherwise, the spy novel would surely have continued in the rut of dare-devil hero versus the Bad Guy(s) with the formulaic certainty, quite comforting after all, that good would triumph over evil after a tour of some of the more hedonistic watering holes of the jet set.

LeCarre’s places were almost always dingy by comparison, except perhaps for the embassy parties in The Constant Gardener; and instead of superheroes in five star restaurants and hotels, he took us into the world of spy craft, deception, interrogation, and into the minds of the spies. In one Eastern European country, “surveillance was not usually a problem, for the security forces knew next to nothing about watching streets.”  Back in London, Smiley drove past the “unlovable fascades of the Edgeware … the sky was black with waiting rain, and all that remained of the sun was a lingering redness on the tarmac."

With all the power in his writing and his interest in the motivation of his characters, LeCarre reinvented the spy thriller as psychological novel.  “It is a habit in all of us,” he noted, “to make our cover stories our assumed personae, at least parallel with the reality.”  Therefore a good spymaster should take more seriously the opposition’s cover stories.  Similarly, the interrogator must beware the almost automatic urge to project himself into the life of a man who does not speak.

When Smiley finally uncovers the mole in the Circus, “he saw with painful clarity an ambitious man born to the big canvas… for whom the reality was a poor island with scarcely a voice that would carry.”  The mole’s initial betrayals were at first limited to “directly advance the Russian cause over the American.”  It was the realization, after Britain’s failure to assert itself at the Suez Canal, that its situation was inane that led him to become a mole working unreservedly for the Russians.

The literary and geopolitical landscapes have changed since he wrote.  There is still the temptation to write about covert operations as opposed to the gathering and analysis of intelligence.  But writers today do not pause and savor words as fussily as LeCarre did.  There are new enemies and battles to be fought but alas the same jingoism (to be avoided we hope by the better writers).

Above all, in the twilight of the bipolar world (divided between East and West, the Iron Curtain, or as it was once asserted between the inheritors of Latin Christianity and the epigones of Greek Orthodoxy) there is the challenge to write of geopolitics and intelligence in this new world without the artistic device of a Manichaean battle between good and evil.  Would that he were still here to show us how.

Women in "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms"

The proper place for women is first described in Romance in the first chapter in which many signs appear suggesting the decay of the Han Dynasty.  Cai Yong, a senior minister called upon to explain these unusual conditions wrote a memorial to the Emperor “asserting that the rainbow in the harem and the metamorphosis of the hens signified the improper influence of the imperial consorts and the eunuchs in public policy.”  The Emperor being indeed under the influence of the eunuchs did not do anything; civil unrest in the form of the Huang Jin rebellion ensued.

When the Emperor Ling lay a-dying (chapter 2 of the Romance), the succession was disputed between his wife and his mother, that is, the Empress He who naturally supported her own son Bian, and the Empress Dowager Dong who protected Xie, the son born to one of Ling’s concubines.  Both had the conflicted support of the eunuchs, who were inclined in the final analysis to support the Empress Dowager (secretly) since they had less to fear from her.  As she watched the Empress Dowager’s political moves, the Empress He decided to confront her at a banquet.  She declared:  “As women, it is not proper for us to participate in court matters.  In ancient times, the Empress Dowager Lu, wife of the first Han emperor, attempted to obtain power and as a result her paternal clan was totally exterminated.  Now I believe, we should seclude ourselves, ‘under nine layers’ as the saying goes, and leave matters of state to the councilors and our elders.  Thus, our nation will continue to enjoy good fortune.”

Dong overplayed her hand when she accused He of having Xie’s mother poisoned and declared that she, Dong, could eliminate both He and her brother He Jin, the military commander-in-chief.  He protested and said:  “I have tried to urge a positive approach, why such anger on your part?”  To which Dong replied:  “You are from a family of small-time butchers, what would you know?”

Even though it portrays them as less than inspiring figures, this episode does not demean the position of the women; it simply shows them with motives and actions more or less comparable to that of the male actors in the story.  Indeed, He’s reference to the consequences of the Dowager Empress Lu’s attempt to gain more authority than was her due, makes it clear that she at least recognized what the ground rules were – she recognized the limits of female intrigue.

The case of Lady Cai, second wife of Liu Biao, is very similar; she wanted to increase the influence of the Cai family in Jingzhou and relied on her brother Cai Mao.  Together they made Biao’s younger son Liu Cong over Liu Qi, the oldest son.  (Whether Cong was her own son or not is beyond the scope of this essay; my own opinion is that he was not.) 

When, after the Battle of Chibi, the leaders of Jiangdong schemed to regain Jingzhou, the role of women is shown to be more complex.  Much has been made of Sun Quan’s filial piety to his mother; in addition one should consider the mother’s actions.  When she found out about the scheme to use the offer of Quan’s sister in marriage as a ploy to lure Liu Bei to Jiangdong, she was furious.  When Quan tried to pass the blame to Zhou Yu, Lady Wu grew even more furious:  “So the great Zhou Yu, protector of six prefectures and eighty-one cities, cannot think of a better way of getting Jingzhou than to use my daughter as bait!  If you kill Bei, her life will be ruined; who in the world will consider a proposal for her marriage?  You all are such geniuses!”

After the marriage of the princess (Lady Sun) to Liu Bei, their relationship appears to be that almost of equals.  Bei wanted to get back to Jingzhou but, he told Lady Sun, he did not want to do so without her and she of her own free will decided to leave Jiangdong with him.  When troops sent after them to prevent Bei’s escape finally caught up with their party, she faced the men down: “Do you only obey Zhou Yu?  Do you dare act against me?  If Yu has the power of life and death over you, do you think that I do not have the same power over him?”

Of course, women do not play a major role in the Romance; it is after all about the future of “all under Heaven.”  Only in the twentieth century have women gained the right to vote.  But the  Romance  is supposed to be reflective of the popular culture seen through the prism of 15^th century literati neo-Confucianism.  The position of women in China would get worse; it was under the Qing that various chastity laws were promulgated.  (The Qing, however, also tried to put an end to foot-binding but in this they failed although they succeeded in making men wear the "pigtail".)

All this is to say that sweeping generalizations about Confucius/Chinese tradition being anti-feminist are misguided.

Fate and Loyalty in "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms"

One of the aspects of the Romance that makes it a classic is that it is not only a collection of fascinating stories, poems, battle scenes, political or military tricks/strategies; it is also suffused with a moral philosophy, perhaps with more than one.  Values matter more or less to the participants in the story; they always matter to the narrator or compiler of the Romance.  Of these values/beliefs are two that collide as the action unfolds: loyalty and fate.

Loyalty begins with filial piety on the not unreasonable assumption that a son filial to his father and ancestors would be loyal to his lord and to the Emperor.  The first step on the ladder of civil service would be to be recommended for one’s “abilities and filial devotion” (舉孝廉) as was Cao Cao when he was twenty (Romance, ch. 1), even though he becomes the leader of the Usurpers of Han imperial authority.  Of Zhou Yu, it was said that he “unfailingly respected his elders” (以交伯符, Romance, ch. 57). 

At the same time, the idea that Fate determined one’s life events was fairly universal.  Sun Jian, the founder of the Wu kingdom in Jiangdong was known more for his martial prowess than the depth of his understanding of astrology; nonetheless, in chapter 6 of the Romance, he remarks that the emperor’s star had grown dim, foreshadowing the fall of the dynasty. 

While planning the final battles of Chibi in chapter 50 of the Romance, Liu Bei and Zhuge Liang of the Loyalist party discuss whether or not Guan Yu could be counted on to guard the final pass that Cao Cao would have to pass through in order to reach safety; they were both aware of his strong sense of honor and felt that since Cao had shown Guan some kindness in the past, Guan would find it difficult to capture Cao.  Liang remarked that he had consulted the astrological charts and found “no indication that Fate has determined Cao’s capture”; therefore giving the assignment to Guan Yu would allow him to earn merit with mercy and “that is also a good thing.”

Chapter 54 of the Romance provides another striking example of the importance of divining what Fate has in store.  In this chapter, Sun Quan and Zhou Yu of the Wu kingdom that had briefly joined the Loyalists to defeat the Usurpers scheme to use a marriage proposal to the Loyalist Liu Bei (offering Quan’s sister as a bride) in order to lure him into Jiangdong where he can be held for ransom (for the province of Jingzhou).  Zhuge Liang agrees with Liu Bei that this is very likely what the Wu leaders intended, but declares that consultation with the stars indicate that nothing untoward would happen to Bei; he therefore urges Bei to accept. 

This notion of Fate extends well beyond the Three Kingdoms:  Graff, in his Medieval Chinese Warfare (Routledge, 2002), noted that there are several chapters on divination in Tang dynasty military manuals even though the historical records, written by more orthodox Confucian scholars, tend to obscure the role of such practices.  Ichisada Miyazaki, 1981, China’s Examination Hell, documents the widespread belief that Fate and spirits influenced if not determined the results of China’s vaunted examination system.

In the context of the events of the Three Kingdoms, when it seemed clear that the Han dynasty was in trouble, there was bound to be a collision between the value of loyalty and the belief that Fate determines the course of events; what should be the proper role of a man who wished to remain loyal when it seems clear that the dynasty is failing, i. e., losing its mandate to rule?  How can loyalty be demonstrated when it would appear that the Mandate of Heaven decreed a change? 

By the time of the Ming dynasty, the scholars had given sufficient thought to this question and, no doubt with the encouragement of the imperial court, codified the proper response:  a man who had sworn to uphold a dynasty could not change his allegiance even if the Mandate of Heaven decrees otherwise.  Those who had not sworn allegiance were free to choose which side they each would uphold.  This was not so clear at the time of the Three Kingdoms and the uncertainty is reflected in the Romance (compiled during the early Ming dynasty).  Such uncertainty gave rise to debate and argumentation that provides an additional dimension of interest to the stories in the Romance.

In chapter 37 of the Romance, Liu Bei meets Cui Zhouping, a close friend of Zhuge Liang’s (the target of Bei’s search for an advisor in his quest to restore the imperial order).  Zhouping declares that order and disorder both proceeded from Heaven, that “peace is getting old and there is cause for dried up spears to be wielded again all over,” and that once Heaven had determined the course of events man should not stubbornly attempt to reverse it (命之所在，人不得而強之乎).  Bei asks to hear more but declares “I am a servant of the Han and have sworn to support it; I would not dare to leave it to Fate.”  At this point, Zhouping pleads ignorance of contemporary affairs and declines to engage in further discussion.  While, Bei’s oath-brothers Guan Yu and Zhang Fei are dismissive of the encounter, Bei seemed anxious to hear more on the subject.

The clash of these values/beliefs is most clearly stated in chapter 43 of the Romance in which Zhuge Liang debates the councilors of the Wu kingdom as well as Sun Quan himself.  During the debate, Liang is asked what he thought of Cao Cao; he replies curtly that Cao is a traitor to the Han at which point one of the Wu councilors, interjects to say that the Han era had passed and that Heaven would dispose of its end.  Liang replies harshly that in embracing Fate, such a person has dishonored his father and his ruler (天下之所共憤﹔公乃以天數歸之，真無父無君之人也).  

Another of the Wu councilor asserts that Cao’s legitimacy did not only spring from the fact that he was holding the Son of Heaven hostage but also because he, Cao, was related to a former prime minister serving the Han.  Liang replies that, in that case, Cao is not only a traitor to the imperial dynasty but is also despicably lacking in filial piety for he is rebelling against the ruler and the dynasty his ancestors had served (不惟漢室之亂臣，亦曹氏之賊子也).

Liang provides something of a resolution of this collision of values in what might have been the end of his mission to forge an alliance between Bei’s Loyalist forces and those of Wu/Jiangdong; he meets with Sun Quan who asks the question why Bei remained defiant of Cao while a reasonable assessment of the military situation might lead others to conclude that it would be best to submit.  Lord Bei, Liang said, remains defiant because he does not accept that Fate should determine his actions, let others do what they would; Bei would not yield.

 It would seem clear that Zhuge Liang has been made the mouth-piece of the Ming neo-Confucian view regarding the balance of loyalty and fate.  But it should not be assumed that Luo Guanzhong was simply toeing the “party line.”  Of the five bosom friends that regularly met and discussed moral and political concerns, Cui Zhouping and two others opted for the “contemplative life” while Xu Shu was Bei’s first advisor on strategy until a forged letter brought him to his mother who was under house arrest in Cao’s camp.   Zhuge Liang of course chose to become Bei’s second and last advisor.  Just before he met and joined Bei, however, he and Zhouping were on one of their usual wandering trips. 

One can only wonder what they discussed during those days.  It is unlikely that the proximity of the events within the narrative of the Romance was a coincidence, and much more likely that Luo intentionally set the discussion between Zhouping and Bei in such close logical and chronological proximity to Liang’s debate in Jiangdong to highlight the uncomfortable collision of the two values/beliefs.  

Mother Xu embodies "virtu"

In the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, one of the two exemplars of xian (the neo-Confucian equivalent of Machiavelli's virtu) is a woman, Mother Xu.  She was the mother of the first consiglieri to Liu Bei, the Loyalist Lord of one of the Three Kingdoms.  Her son is tricked into visiting her as she was held hostage by Cao Cao, the Usurper Lord of another of the Three Kingdoms.  Once there, he would not be free to serve the Loyalist cause again.  His mother excoriates him thoroughly for this stupid mistake and then steps into the room next door to underline her lesson by committing suicide. 
The text continues to extol her xian, quoting a poem in her honor.  To reflect the changing times and tastes/styles, three translations are presented here:

Wise Mother Xun, fair is your fame,
The storied page glows with your name,
From duty's path you never strayed,
The family's renown you made.
To train your son no pains you spared,
For your own body nothing cared.
You stand sublime, from us apart,
Through simple purity of heart.
Brave Liu Bei's virtues you extolled,
You blamed Cao Cao, the basely bold.
Of blazing fire you felt no fear,
You blenched not when the sword came near,
But dreaded lest a willful son
Should dim the fame his fathers won.
Yes, Mother Xun was of one mold
With famous heroes of old,
Who never shrank from injury,
And even were content to die.
Fair meed of praise, while still alive,
Was yours, and ever will survive.
Hail! Mother Xun, your memory,
While time rolls on, shall never.

(C. H. Brewitt-Taylor, 1935).

Mother Xu’s integrity

Will savor for eternity.

She kept her honor free from stain,

A credit to her family’s name.

A model lesson for her son,

No grief or hardship would she shun.

An aura like a sacred hill,

Allegiance sprung from depth of will.

For Xuande, words of approbation.

For Cao Cao, utter condemnation.

Boiling oil or scalding water,

Knife or axe could not deter her.

Then, lest Shan Fu shame his forebears,

She joins the ranks of martyred mothers.

In life, her proper designation;

In death, her proper destination.

Mother’s Xu’s integrity

Will savor for eternity.

( From, The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, translated by Moss Roberts, Peking, Foreign Languages Press, 1995.) 

     Formidable Mother Xu honors a thousand ancestors!

Implacable in her principles, she thus nurtures her family.

She instructs her children to stay true despite hardship,

To keep their spirit unshakeable as the hills and mountains,

With righteousness from the bottom of their hearts.

She cherishes Liu Bei, despises Cao Cao.

She is not intimidated by religious trappings; 
She disdains the executioner’s axe.

She fears only that her offspring might disgrace their ancestors.

She would rather die than witness such degradation--

She would rather break her loom and endure the indignities of war!

Born to this honorable name, she would lay down her life for it.

Formidable Mother Xu honors a thousand ancestors!

From The Battle at Chibi, translated and retold by Hock G. Tjoa.  2009.