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The Great Report — Volume 5

“Without residence you're no longer a person?” The two women continued to argue.

One wave wasn't over when the next arose. Zou Wanggen got into an argument with his brother-in-law Zhang Jianmei, Zhang Linjun's father. When Zou Wanggen wanted to pick up the power of attorney for his son working away from home, Zhang Jianmei, who was responsible for this, admonished him: “You take the power of attorney with you, the day after tomorrow you have to return it to me.” Zou Wanggen said defiantly: “The day after tomorrow I have no time.” Zhang Jianmei also became irritated: “If you have no time, that's your problem.”

When it came to voting, Zou Wanggen brought a power of attorney without the signature and fingerprint of the authorizing person and wanted to pick up a ballot. Since it didn't meet the requirements of the Recall Committee, Zhang Jianmei refused to issue the ballot, and the two got into an argument.

When Zhang Jianmei saw that Zou Wanggen's girlfriend was meddling from the side, he said angrily: “What are you anyway?” She came from another village and wasn't yet married to Zou Wanggen but constantly meddled in village affairs. Zou Wanggen became angry, stormed forward and wanted to hit Zhang Jianmei, but was held back by the people.

Zhang Linjun said to his uncle: “The power of attorney you have doesn't meet the requirements, of course you can't be given a ballot. Let's do it this way: There's still time, call your son, have him come back by taxi and vote, I'll cover the few hundred yuan taxi costs.”

The uncle had nothing more to say. He admonished his father: “Today is voting day, we shouldn't behave like him. If we get some insults, that doesn't matter. If it comes to a fight and the matter goes wrong, we do wrong to all villagers. We must stay calm, absolutely stay calm.”

Zhang Jianmei looked silently at his son. He hadn't thought that Linjun had become more mature and level-headed after this matter.

Here it had just calmed down when another argument started there. The six brothers of Zou Fugen had returned, but their wives and children hadn't come back and they had no powers of attorney. The staff refused to issue the ballots for their wives and children.

“I came back, I absolutely must get the ballots for my wife and children!” They argued.

“We must go the lawful route. The leadership of the Bureau of Civil Affairs is over there, if you have objections, speak with the leadership.” Liao Xianghai tried to mediate.

Deng Shiming sat with his 6-year-old daughter in his arms on the stone arched bridge, surrounded by five or six of his supporters. Teacher Deng stood lonely by the roadside and asked the passing villagers with a bitter smile: “Your votes, vote for our Shiming, let him finish his term. We would be very grateful, your children still go to school with me.” The brotherly loyalty was truly touching, but who would still cast this vote out of gratitude?

After this recall, the villagers' democratic consciousness had grown strongly, they had understood the weight of the ballots.

The vote ended in hope and disappointment, excitement and unrest. The public counting began. The red ballot box became the focus of the villagers' attention. The ballots were poured out, Liao Xianghai announced the votes, and the counters noted them with chalk on the wooden wall. In front of the wooden wall people stood densely packed in several rows. The villagers who couldn't see anything simply stood on tables, chairs, and benches.

“For the recall, for the recall...” Liao Xianghai announced.

“Read louder, only when you can hear it is it fun,” the villagers from the back called.

“For the recall, for the recall...” Liao Xianghai raised his voice. Each announcement triggered cheers.

“Against the recall.” Only with the ninth ballot did Liao Xianghai announce one against the recall.

The 31-year-old villager Zhang Xiaobao came late, couldn't push his way forward and therefore stood on a stool to observe the counting. “Old Deng is finished, this recall will certainly succeed!” he said quietly to his companion. He had left his foreign trade business in Yiwu and returned especially to participate in the vote.

A full 20 minutes passed. The votes noted on the wooden wall against the recall were sparse, while those for the recall were already densely lined up in 5-stroke combinations. At this moment, Deng Shiming, who sat on the stone bridge, had probably foreseen the final result and said sullenly: “At least I was village head once. Damn it, in the future I wouldn't even want to be emperor!”

His supporters laughed, some agreed with him: “Yes, yes, what's good about that!”

Deng Shiming smiled and let his daughter romp in his arms. The family joys consoled the wound in his heart, his long-oppressed heart felt much better. What in this world is more important than family bonds? When he thought about it carefully, his life had been worth it, he had such good brothers who went through fire for him without hesitating.

Around 4:45 PM the voting result was available: Of a total of 339 eligible voters, 302 participated in the recall vote; 280 ballots were returned; 265 votes for the recall, 14 votes against the recall, 1 abstention. The votes for the recall made up 78.2% of the entire electorate.

Zhang Shida, Mayor of Dayang Township and leader of the leadership group of the Recall Committee for Qintan Village sent by the township, announced: The recall of Village Head Deng Shiming is adopted.

What surprised everyone: When the recall result was announced, the various predicted situations didn't occur. The small hall remained quiet as a still pond, everyone seemed to have already expected this result. Only some villagers went to the wooden wall and photographed with their mobile phones the wall covered with 5-stroke combinations. They said: “We're keeping this as a memory. We can elect village cadres and also recall them, that's true self-government. We're doing this for the first time, inwardly we're very agitated.”

Deng Shiming, who sat on the bridge, watched as the villagers came out of the village hall one by one. Nobody came to him to greet him. He turned his head and saw his 73-year-old mother standing behind him. He knew that the old woman cared even more about the result of this recall vote. The cold wind moved her white hair, disappointment made her face look even older. Deng Shiming felt a stab in his heart, moisture moved in his eye sockets, he turned his head away.

With the recall officially concluded, its consequences soon followed. After that, cadres from the township and village came several times to Deng Shiming's house and demanded he hand over the village committee seal. With the justification that his work expenses hadn't been settled, he refused to hand over the seal.

The Longtan Stream flowed beneath their feet, it irrigated as always grass and trees on both banks.

Epilogue: Qintan Village Elects a New Village Head

On the afternoon of April 1, 2010, Qintan Village again convened a village assembly and conducted a by-election for village head. Zhang Ronghai was elected village head with a large majority of 279 votes.

When he learned of his election as village head, his heart was very calm. During the recall of Deng Shiming, many people discussed who should become the master of Qintan Village, but at first they didn't speak of him. After the process of recalling Deng Shiming, this responsibility finally fell on his shoulders after all. He recognized deeply: The citizens can elect you, they can also recall you, this was also a warning for him.

In the spring of 2011, Liao Xianghai gave up his business with an annual income of several hundred thousand yuan and returned to this poor mountain village to become Party Secretary.

The little-known Qintan Village had plucked at the strings of democratic politics and played a song about the recall of village cadres, and became famous with one blow. The news that the villagers of Qintan had successfully initiated the procedure for recalling the village head with 183 red fingerprints and finally led to the recall of the village head was published in dozens of newspapers throughout the country and on over 3,500 websites and attracted great attention.

The villagers said Deng Shiming was no corrupt official, had made no major mistake and hadn't oppressed citizens. So why did he absolutely have to be recalled? Quite simple: He was unsuitable! Because Deng Shiming didn't respect the will of the majority! When Deng Shiming was elected back then with a high vote count, this proved he had a good mass base. But in less than two years he was recalled with a high vote count—why was there such a big difference? The result revealed a simple truth: those who govern must ultimately answer to the will of the people.

Xu Xiaoen, Director of the Jinhua Branch of the Zhejiang Daily, said: The recall action of the Qintan villagers shows that the democratic political consciousness of rural villagers has been strengthened; the success of the recall shows the progress of our rural development and democratic politics, which through laws, regulations and other systems protects the rights of the popular masses to self-government. This matter has warning character for some who today run for election through dishonest means!

A media worker said: If at the beginning of Reform and Opening Up the farmers of Xiaogang Village led the economic reform in the countryside with bloody fingerprints, the villagers of Qintan today express in the same way with red fingerprints their demand for political democracy. One concerns the economy, the other politics, both have milestone significance! Reports about the recall of village cadres or even higher officials appear occasionally, but that this happens in Qintan Village in Jinhua shows the deepening of reform.

Chen Luyi, Party Secretary of Wucheng District, said: “The villagers of Qintan have defended their democratic rights and collective interests with the law and completed this recall, which has milestone significance for rural democratic politics. Water can carry boats but also overturn them. While the legal and democratic consciousness of farmers continues to increase, they will use their rights well and elect their masters well. Officials who don't respect public opinion and don't work for the citizens will be rejected by the people. Public opinion is heaven.”

After the storm of recalling the village head, calm returned to Qintan Village. The water of the Longtan Stream flowed tirelessly past the village entrance. On both banks the bamboos that had survived the winter were still green, new bamboo shoots protruded and gave off quiet cracking sounds, as if bringing forth new life. A new spring had come!

(First published in Beijing Literature, Issue 4, 2011)

Difficult Homecoming

Guo Dong

My uncle was a captain in the Taiwan Marine Corps and a veteran from Henan. His life containeds more hardship than happiness. Like so many Chinese who wandered far from home, he saw “going home” as his unquestionable pursuit and destination in life, yet this “falling leaf” could never “return to its roots.”

Uncle has passed away. Veterans who shared his fate have already arrived in heaven or will soon join him. Swept up by political forces, these people were long abandoned by the societies they came from, which made them even more desperate than other overseas Chinese to be accepted again by the world they had left behind.

They're taking an entire era with them. The secrets of that generation will sink into the depths of history and dissolve without a trace. And they, these minor figures who were either absent from the historical record or barely mentioned, will become like distant, lonely sails fading beyond the memory of future generations in another twenty or thirty years.

When my uncle died at Taipei Veterans General Hospital, I understood that what claimed his life and shattered his dream of returning home was not only illness, nor simply the situation across the Taiwan Strait.

Chapter One: Where Do You Come From, My Uncle

First Meeting

April 23, 1988, an ordinary day. Mother sent me to meet uncle at the station.

Mother's instructions were simple: your Uncle Hong Zhou, fifty-seven years old, from Taiwan, arriving at Beijing Station on the Beijing-Guangzhou line.

At the time, I had no idea this date would be recorded in contemporary Chinese history. Uncle certainly wasn't a historical figure; although he was in Taiwan's massive Marine Corps, he was just a retired captain. I had not realized that an event drawing the attention of the world was rapidly unfolding on the land where we lived. With no train number or arrival time, all I could do was wait. I stood in the bustling crowd, approaching any middle-aged man who looked like he might be from Hong Kong or Taiwan as they exited the station: “Excuse me, are you Mr. Hong Zhou?” “No, no, I'm not.”

Countless guarded or self-important faces passed by. Countless wheeled suitcases were dragged away.

That afternoon, I stood at the Beijing Station exit for two solid hours. On her deathbed, Grandma's assessment of uncle had been: “He's not a real son, after all, he just left without even writing.” Grandma's complete disappointment in uncle made me unwilling to forgive this man I'd never met. I turned to head home, thinking: I'm done waiting. Years ago he left home without a word, making Grandma wait her whole life—now it's my turn to wait. Early the next morning, the phone rang shrilly and wouldn't stop. It was Mother calling. Her voice brimmed with excitement: “Your uncle got home at midnight yesterday! His plane landed in Tianjin—he took a taxi all the way from Tianjin to Beijing.”

Only then did I learn that uncle, as one of the first batch of veterans under Taiwan's new policy “allowing civilians to visit mainland relatives,” had flown from Taiwan to Hong Kong, then crossed the Luohu border to Guangzhou, and from there to Beijing. These men who'd longed for home for nearly forty years came out together like birds escaping their cages.

Uncle couldn't buy a direct train ticket from Guangzhou to Beijing. In his letter, he said he wanted to fulfill a dream by traveling the entire Beijing-Guangzhou line—to see the interior, to see Henan, to see the Yellow River, and ease his homesickness.

At the Guangzhou station ticket window in 1988, crowds surged and jostled. Uncle, no longer used to such disorder, watched the pushing, shoving tide of people with amazement. At the time, he didn't know that mainland reforms were surging magnificently northward from this very gateway.

Someone approached him—a ticket scalper. “Soft sleeper to Beijing? No chance!” the scalper told him. “Take a plane—much faster!” Eager to get out of Guangzhou, uncle immediately pulled US dollars from his wallet and bought a plane ticket to Tianjin—not Beijing—at triple the price.

I rushed to Mother's house. When I pushed open the door, I saw uncle's smiling face. A warm surge of affection flowed straight to my heart. This is the image of uncle that has stayed with me ever since. He was solidly built with a ramrod-straight back—that unmistakable bearing of a trained soldier. He wore a wool suit, his dyed hair neatly parted. His eyes were small and squinted when he smiled, giving him a kind look. It was a gentle face, so gentle it made you forget Grandma's grievances, forget the decades of different circumstances, forget the distance between us—as if we'd always lived together like this, without any gap. Uncle, finding himself for the first time among our large, bustling family, was so happy he didn't know what to do with himself. He looked at this person, then that person, always with those squinting, smiling eyes. I dove into the kitchen to start cooking. At Chinese gatherings, food comes first. Uncle followed me into the kitchen, watching me with affection as he pressed red envelopes into my hands. Perhaps because I'd faced so much coldness in my youth, I'd never gotten used to receiving gifts. Besides, just yesterday I was still complaining about him—how could I accept red envelopes today? Uncle saw my embarrassment and said in a tone that brooked no argument: “Little Dong, this is everyone's share—adults and children all get one!” He grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. His grip was strong. His hands were wide and thick, with a large jade ring on one finger.

Uncle stayed in Beijing for two months. What made him proudest was this: when the returning veterans gathered in Taipei to chat, others complained that their mainland relatives had asked them for money and goods, but uncle said he'd received so much he couldn't carry it all back. In the years that followed, whenever he mentioned this, his eyes would squint in that smile.

Hearing Mom Tell Past Stories

“Heaven sent us an uncle.” Mom shook her head. “Not at all! Your uncle took root in our family over fifty years ago. He's connected to us by blood.” Mom began telling us siblings the story:

You all know your uncle isn't my biological brother—to understand this, we have to start with the family history. Your grandma was from Henan, from a well-off family. After she married your grandpa, their circumstances declined. But Grandpa didn't let Grandma down—he had vision. He went into business early on, opening a steamed bun shop in the county seat called Yuxing Mantou Shop. Through honest dealing and good faith, he prospered. He hired workers, bought mules, and even built a two-story building.

You all know Mencius's saying: “There are three forms of unfilial conduct, of which the worst is to have no descendants.” Your grandma grew up with this cultural belief. She gave birth to five of us daughters in a row, but no sons. Whether the clan criticized her or not, she couldn't hold her head up under the weight of having “no descendants.” The pain only deepened—my older and younger sisters died of illness one after the other, leaving only me in the middle. Even though I studied from elementary school through teacher training college with top grades and a good reputation far and wide, I still couldn't bring this family the honor of continuing the family line.

An unexpected event saved this family. It was 1932, a year of great disaster when the Yellow River flooded and the roads were full of people fleeing their homes. Someone brought word that a refugee family wanted to find a way forward for their son. Grandpa said immediately: “Let's adopt this boy and let him carry on the family line.” Grandma naturally agreed. She bought children's clothes, and the three of us set out by donkey cart to a neighboring village. It was a windy, sandy day, bitterly cold. When we entered their home, we saw a poorly dressed couple waiting for us. The boy was two years old, naked, wrapped in a pile of tattered cloth. I reached out to play with him, but the boy's eyes were closed and he didn't respond at all. His mother, afraid we wouldn't want him, quickly explained: “The child hasn't had milk. He still can't talk.” Tears streamed down your grandma's face. She bent down to dress the child, then took out the ten silver dollars she'd prepared and placed them in the refugees' hands. The couple, torn between joy and sorrow, thanked us over and over before leaving. At the doorway, they turned back one more time to look at the boy now dressed in new clothes, but the child still had his eyes closed with no reaction.

You guessed right—this was uncle. The family finally had a son. Afterward, they hosted a welcoming banquet, treating the boy like a treasure. A local fortune teller with remarkable skill at reading faces declared: “This child's destiny lacks water—you must choose a name with plenty of water in it.” After some calculations, the fortune teller decided: “Great water is 'hong,' and where there's water there must be an islet, 'zhou'—call him 'Hong Zhou'!”

I suddenly understood and interrupted Mother: “Was there too much water, so it put uncle on a water-surrounded islet—Taiwan Island?” Mother warned me: “Don't talk nonsense—your uncle might not even know his own background!”

Uncle's Memories

Overnight, uncle completed his transformation of identity. He still maintained his military posture and bearing, but now he wore Mother's house keys on his waist. He loved hearing those keys clank together—it meant he'd found home, and he liked that reminder. He hummed segments from Henan opera—Chang Xiangyu, Ma Jinfeng, Cui Lantian—as he came and went from the apartment building. The neighbors would comment: “Uncle's here? Look how much you and your sister look alike!” Uncle would squint and smile: “Real siblings—how could we not look alike?”

Back then, I searched all the newspapers but couldn't find any announcement of Henan opera troupes performing in Beijing, so I kept ordering rushed videotapes of Henan opera—”Rolling the Mat,” “Executing Judge Bao,” “Mu Guiying Takes Command,” “Mulan,” “Qin Xuemei's Mourning,” “Carrying the Bridal Sedan,” “The Fragrance Pouch,” “Chen Sanliang in Court”—twenty or thirty tapes in all. Those were uncle's happiest times. He'd tap the sofa armrest in rhythm with the Henan opera on the tapes, his big hand with its jade ring keeping time, occasionally humming along.

I knew uncle had longed for this kind of warm family life for a very long time. But sometimes he'd let out a long sigh. I couldn't help but ask why he was sighing. Uncle's eyes reddened: “Missing your grandma. She never had a single good day. If only she could be here now, hand in hand with me, watching and listening to opera together—I could die satisfied.”

That day, uncle told me about his childhood:

Your grandma—I called her Mother. The days I spent with Mother were the most blessed of my entire life. With Mother's and Father's love, I played carefree from age two to six. Back then, our family had land in the countryside and a shop in the county seat—we were known as a good family.

Once, a shop assistant teased me, saying my situation was “wanting stars but not getting the moon.” When I heard that, I started pestering Father to fetch me the moon. Father was the shop owner and usually a man of few words—the workers were afraid of him, but I wasn't. Father was clever. He cut a cake into a crescent shape, held the yellow crescent in his palm, and coaxed me: “Look, I just picked this moon for my son. Eat it while it's soft.” Funny thing is, yesterday your mother told me that because Father and Mother favored me, she actually cried about it back then.

Like the sons of wealthy families, I started school at six. As long as I wanted, Father could have supported me all the way through, but I was no good—I'd skip class the moment I got to school and run off to play outside the village. In the end, I only studied for two or three years. That's my life's biggest regret.

I really caused trouble for the family by running wild.

Once, when I was out playing beyond the village, bandits kidnapped me and demanded ten dan of grain as ransom. Even though our family wasn't short of food, one dan was a hundred jin, and ten dan was a thousand jin—enough to feed the whole family for a year. For small business people like us, this was like tearing the roof off the house.

The bandits locked me in a thatched hut. I thought Father would never ransom me, so I closed my eyes and waited to die. I was so scared, my little heart pounding. But before long, the bandits yanked the door open with a clang and said to me: “Your father's here. Go home.” I thought they were mocking me and didn't respond. But the bandit said again: “Your father's here. Go home!” I jumped up and stood in the doorway to look—sure enough, Father had come and was unloading the cart. The grain piled on that mule cart was so high! I didn't cry when I saw the bandits, didn't cry when I was locked in the thatched hut, but when I saw that grain piled like a small mountain on the cart, I burst into tears! That was grain Father and Mother had earned through backbreaking work, rising early and sleeping late! Father picked me up and wiped my tears with his handkerchief. The look in his eyes—I'll never forget it. So much love, so much tenderness!

After unloading the cart, Father settled me in the empty cart. He didn't point a finger at me, didn't say a single angry word. He just held me and drove the cart home. Mother had been waiting at the village entrance all day. She held me in her arms, tears streaming down her face, and I cried with emotion right then and there. Because of this, I made a vow in my heart to be a filial son and care for my parents in their old age and see them to their final rest!

The family business grew. While other people’s steamed buns were five to a jin, any four of ours would weigh more than a jin. No alkali, white and fluffy, and cheaper too. Father knew business. He gave discount cards to regular customers. With more and more repeat customers, the steamed bun shop opened branch locations. Father became somebody in the county town. Still a man of few words, but when he walked down the street in his fox fur robe, people would greet this boss. Father stopped working with his own hands, left everything to the accountant, and hired more and more workers.

If not for what happened later, this family would have had such a good life! Father stopped coming home much. He took a second wife—your second grandma. We privately called her “Number Two.” I was just a child then and didn't understand why Father would take a second wife. Our mother was acknowledged as the beauty of the whole village—double eyelids, big eyes, black hair pulled back in a bun, capable and kind. I was so proud of Mother. That one time, Mother cried. After she finished crying, she calmly told Father: “Don't stay away—move back and let's all live together.” And so Number Two entered the family, and my good days came to an end. This Number Two was much younger than Mother and, relying on Father's favor, looked down on everyone. One day, that young woman pointed at my head and said: “Hey, boy, you're grown now. You can't eat for free anymore—go sell steamed buns.” With one sentence, Number Two changed my status. And so at age ten, I became a shop assistant, going out every day to sell steamed buns, then coming home to report the accounts and turn in the money. If I didn't sell them all, I didn't get to eat.

One time I didn't sell all the steamed buns, and Number Two wouldn't let me eat. Mother saw this and wouldn't stand for it—she gave food to refugees and beggars, so how could she watch me go hungry? Number Two wasn't afraid of Mother. She shouted: “Who is this boy? Why should he eat for free?” Mother usually didn't say much, but this time she wouldn't budge an inch: “Who is he? He's my son—even eating for free is his right!” Number Two tossed her head and slammed the lid down on the steamer basket with a bang.

All my pent-up resentment surged up. I stamped my feet and shouted at Number Two: “You cheap little woman!” I drew out the word “cheap,” long and harsh. Mother was stunned and quickly turned to shield me. Number Two let out a shriek and lunged at me, and across Mother, she slapped me hard across the face. Little Dong, from that moment on, my right ear went deaf—I still can't hear clearly out of it. Later, when the Japanese devils invaded, the steamed bun shop couldn't operate anymore. My sister—your mother—went off to fight the Japanese. Number Two had a son, and Father moved out with her to live separately. From then on, the family was scattered. I never saw Father again.

Mother took me with her as we fled the Japanese soldiers, and we returned to the village. Mother farmed and spun thread. When there was food, I ate first. When there was cloth, I wore it first. I understood things early. Every day I rushed to help Mother carry water and chop firewood. Afraid Mother would worry about missing my sister, I always tried to make her happy. To describe those eight years Mother and I spent together in just a few words: we depended on each other for survival! Later, after the War of Resistance ended, my sister sent word for us to come find her in Xuzhou, Jiangsu. Only then did our family of three reunite.

I don't know when Mother came into the room. She interjected: “Hong Zhou, we moved from Xuzhou, Jiangsu to Changsha, Hunan in 1948, right?” Uncle said: “Yes, Sister.” Mother finally spoke the words that should have been said in 1948: “Those were the hardest days for our family. Your brother-in-law bought you a shoulder pole and baskets to sell vegetables to help support the family. You—why did you leave home without saying a word?” I knew this was the most painful and difficult thing for uncle to face. His straight back bent and his voice dropped to almost a murmur: “I was... caught as a conscript...” Mother's voice softened too: “Do you know our mother grieved her whole life? Even on her deathbed she kept calling 'Hong Zhou, Hong Zhou'?” Uncle couldn't take it. He raised his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “I, I, I...” Uncle said, “I missed Mother my whole life, Sister!” He burst out with a man's sob.

Truth of Uncle's Disappearance

Why did uncle leave? Two generations of our family puzzled over this question for half their lives. Now, from the bits and pieces of conversation between Mother and uncle, I've pieced together this family history.

Let's return to 1948 in Changsha.

I wasn't born yet. I had three older siblings. At the end of the twentieth century, the Chinese Writers Association awarded Father a memorial plaque for Anti-Japanese War writers. Back then he was the editor-in-chief of a newspaper and had written and published many poems about the war, but as soon as the war ended, he lost his job.

When Father saw Grandfather off to Taiwan, the steamship at Guangzhou's Huangpu Port was puffing white steam. Grandfather, then a Kuomintang military officer, embraced Father tightly and said in a trembling voice: “My son, the newspaper has closed, you've lost your salary, and old people and children need to eat and drink. Why are you staying on the mainland?” Father wouldn't answer why. He just firmly repeated: “I'm not leaving.” The moment Grandfather stepped onto the steamship, he said something Father would never forget—something he told me several times later: “Do you really trust those 'leftist' friends of yours?”

Tears streamed down Father's face. This was the clash of their different political views over many years. Waving, waving, waving. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. That gradually shrinking figure finally disappeared, vanished forever from both their lives. Father and Grandfather never saw each other again.

Winter in Changsha was empty and cold. Father and Mother, Grandma, uncle, and my older siblings—seven people in the family huddled around a charcoal basin to eat. Back then, Father had started doing small business while Mother crocheted hats to sell. Unfortunately, my young siblings came down with fevers. Two shots of penicillin, and the family was out of food money. The red glow from the charcoal basin grew weaker and weaker until finally the embers went out completely. Grandma sighed and moved the charcoal basin outside the wooden door—there was no money to buy more charcoal. Mother's hands, from crocheting hats, were swollen high from the cold.

That year uncle was eighteen, carrying baskets to sell vegetables on the street. Full of ambition, whenever he headed out with his vegetables toward the sun, he harbored a hope—how could he change the family's circumstances? The moment of change came. Two soldiers approached him head-on. Uncle was about to ask if they wanted to buy vegetables when they spoke up: “Hey, we'll take you somewhere you can get a meal.” Uncle sensed trouble and grabbed his baskets to run, but someone had already clamped down on his shoulder. Uncle struggled and shouted: “I have a mother—I need to ask my mother!” The other man casually tossed the baskets aside and said: “First come see the barracks, then ask your mother.” With the press gang escorting him, uncle shuffled his feet forward. Back then, uncle was a country boy who'd never seen the world. He didn't know the war situation across the country. He didn't know that in the Liaoshen Campaign, the Liberation Army had completely annihilated 470,000 Kuomintang troops, and the Huaihai Campaign was starting right after. He didn't know the Kuomintang forces were losing battle after battle, retreating again and again, conducting massive press gangs to replenish their troops. He didn't know the Communists were already preparing to establish the People's Republic of China.

This Communist-Kuomintang war, which fifty years later uncle would describe as “a struggle for power and a contest over how to govern the country,” gave the young uncle of that time only the psychological sensations of fear and bewilderment. Uncle couldn't tell the Communist Party from the Kuomintang, the Liberation Army from the Kuomintang forces, and he certainly didn't know he'd just become a conscript.

They walked and walked. The sun climbed higher. In uncle's heart, a sun also rose—that hope he'd been harboring grew bright: wear a military uniform for six months or a year, take the money home, and Mother and Sister would be able to eat their fill! Uncle relaxed. He actually shook off the press gang's grip and strode into the barracks on his own. History stopped right there. Uncle's identity as a farmer ended at that moment. From then on, he became a soldier in the Kuomintang army.

Chapter Two: Separated by One Strait

This Side and That Side of the Strait

The Kuomintang military formation marched south day and night without stopping. Uncle panicked—he knew home was to the north. He wanted to run, but the cases of summary execution for deserters made him change his thinking. For the first time in this ragtag group, uncle recognized his own intelligence and organizational ability. He rallied his companions: work for now, watch for a chance to escape.

When the army rested again, they'd traveled south to a nameless little island. All the soldiers were cursing, unable to understand why the army wasn't fighting but was instead retreating straight toward this godforsaken wilderness far from home.

Uncle had inherited his parents' quiet disposition, which made him seem mature and steady among the cursing soldiers, and this caught the officers' attention. A few months later, uncle never found a chance to escape—instead, he was promoted step by step and made a platoon leader, drilling soldiers on the little island every day. He told me later that during this period, the only thing that could ease his homesickness was a little white dog. That dog would wake him at a set time every night for the night watch, and so uncle would ignore military regulations, wake up and hold the dog while making his rounds of the barracks. The new soldiers were afraid of his authority and said they'd never seen the platoon leader smile. But uncle said that if he hadn't been afraid of implicating the entire platoon, he would have deserted long ago to find Mother!

The days on the little island came to an end—the formation assembled for departure. The soldiers who'd been wholeheartedly hoping to go home, amid the sound of waves on the vast ocean, amid the sound of People's Liberation Army artillery, at the docks where large ships were moored and small boats collided chaotically, amid the sound of countless soldiers beating their chests and stamping their feet crying toward the north, as countless men desperately climbed rope ladders trying to reach the doors of the large ship cabins—suddenly understood their situation.

In 1949, 1.2 million mainland Kuomintang military personnel and their families boarded ships bound for Taiwan in batches. At that moment, uncle let go of the little white dog that was howling mournfully.

After reorganization, uncle entered the regular Marine Corps. This Marine Corps was a strategic reserve force directly under the Taiwan military general staff, specifically tasked with rapid-response combat missions on land and at sea. It was considered an “offensive combat” branch and was the envy of other soldiers.

During the chaotic changing of defense positions for this unit, uncle unexpectedly ran into an extremely important person.

At the time, uncle was leading his unit, waiting for orders at the station of a small Taiwan city. While he was feeling frustrated, several senior officers passed nearby. Uncle stared—the man in front looked refined and upright. He looked like... like... like his brother-in-law! Of course it wasn't his brother-in-law—judging by age, it should be his brother-in-law's father!

Dear readers, uncle's brother-in-law was my father! Uncle jumped up right away. He knew that if he delayed even a few minutes, he'd never find this officer in the sea of people! Uncle rushed forward and snapped to attention, saluting. The refined, upright officer stopped and said kindly: “Young man, can I help you?” Uncle said: “Sir, my brother-in-law is XX. Are you...” Uncle watched the officer nervously, as if this man held his fate in his hands. The officer smiled and grabbed his hand: “Wonderful, wonderful—we're family! Let me give you an address!” My grandfather took a pen from his orderly and scribbled hastily. This high official, in the second year when return to the mainland was already hopeless, brought over all the family members except my father. Heaven helped our family. Many years later, it was through these connections that our uncles and aunts in Taiwan, including uncle himself, found our family in Beijing.

In Taiwan, unbearable events kept happening. The worst were the early years when the unit couldn't provide food—soldiers subsisted on sweet potatoes and wild vegetables.

The officers and soldiers didn't know that the Chiang Kai-shek regime had signed a mutual defense treaty with the United States and was pouring the gold they'd brought from the mainland into military expenses. Decades later, published figures proved that in the 1950s, Taiwan's military spending took up over 70% of the total fiscal budget, and in the '60s it was still 50%—while officers, soldiers, and their families endured hunger under the banner of “united in heart and mind, return home and restore the nation”!

Strategically, the Chiang Kai-shek regime treated Taiwan as a place to recuperate and launched a plan for “one year of preparation, two years of counterattack, three years of mopping up, five years of success.” In other words, the Chiang Kai-shek regime predicted it would retake the mainland in 1954-1955.

The sacrificial victims weren't just the 600,000 officers and soldiers and another 600,000 family members who went to Taiwan in 1949. Add to that the officers, soldiers, and families who made their way to Taiwan from Hainan Island, the Zhoushan Islands, and other places in 1950, and the Taiwan arrivals reached two million. The Chiang Kai-shek regime could only arrange hasty settlements for dependents—Taiwan's schools, temples, farmhouses, and cattle sheds were filled with mainlanders. These slums, later called “military dependents' villages,” numbered 763 across Taiwan with 96,082 dependent households. Later, famous people who came out of the military dependents' villages—like Song Chuyu, Wu Xiaoli, Li Liqun, and Teresa Teng—all went through those early hardships with their fathers and brothers during the retreat to Taiwan, having to fill their stomachs with sweet potatoes and vegetable leaves.

Like cut leeks, soldiers fell in waves. Hunger, swelling, climate unsuitability. Uncle was dizzy from hunger and couldn't stand up straight. In those years, if stones had been soft, he would have stuffed them in his mouth too.

Uncle and the old soldiers would huddle together, pressing each other's faces and legs to compare whose indentations were deeper, then cursing and thoroughly denouncing the misdeeds of various bastards, completely ignoring military regulations. After that came the wailing.

The Taiwan Strait was blockaded. Even the boldest didn't dare risk charges of “collaborating with the enemy and treason” to try to go home, and so the soldiers in the barracks went mad crying for their fathers and mothers.

Uncle stood alone before the endless vast ocean, weeping night after night, talking to Mother night after night. He remembered the scene of my grandma spinning and weaving—back then Grandma would hum Henan opera tunes while he ran around the loom, playing and singing along. He remembered the scene of my grandma holding his little hand as they visited neighbors—Grandma helping him into his silk jacket and the hat with two copper sticks holding up the petals, those petals bouncing with each step, making all the children on the street envious. He remembered the scene of my grandma being squeezed out by Second Grandma, and he swore he'd protect my grandma for life so she wouldn't suffer. He even fantasized about children running all over calling him “Hong Zhou”...

The deep, unbearable suffering was the loneliness of being torn from home and family. Uncle didn't know that this suffering had only just sprouted—it would grow and spread, then wrap around uncle for his entire life, eventually driving him nearly insane.

Retired Days

Most of a lifetime, gone just like that.

Unable to endure the various inhumane restrictions in the unit, uncle retired early from his position as captain and deputy company commander of the 651st Regiment of the Taiwan Marine Corps, military service number 629581. By regulation, he was entitled to a pension for life. Accustomed to simple living, he didn't spend much each month. Later he found work, and over time his savings gradually grew.

One day, while drinking at the home of his fellow townsman Old Liu, he suddenly collapsed in grief. Only then did he realize that the sorrow accumulated deep in his heart had left no trace on the surface. Mrs. Liu decisively had people carry uncle to the hospital. Myocardial infarction. The doctor said: “You're getting old—no smoking, no drinking, and don't get agitated.” He listened and quit smoking and drinking. Housing prices were low at the time, and he planned to buy a place and live out his days peacefully in Taipei. Mrs. Liu was also from Henan, and in this household, she called the shots. The straightforward and warm Mrs. Liu made an immediate decision: “Brother Hong Zhou, build your house on our roof—we'll be one family!” This was Wanda Road in Taipei, where poor people lived and urban renewal was coming.

Uncle hesitated, afraid of causing trouble for others.

Old Liu was an honest man, a retired veteran. Seeing his wife's decision, he also urged uncle to move in. Uncle couldn't resist their persuasion and agreed—build the house! Three rooms. The original three rooms downstairs where the Liu family lived stayed as they were. The three new rooms upstairs were uncle's home. Later, uncle said the money he spent building that house would have been enough to buy a new place in a good location.

And so uncle became part of the Liu family. Every day after work he'd come back, and they'd eat together, play cards together, chat together—quite happy and harmonious. But later, uncle discovered something was wrong. Mrs. Liu managed Old Liu's accounts and also collected uncle's pension every month, so uncle had to ask for money when he needed to spend anything. Uncle didn't like being controlled. After he got one pension payment and kept half of it, Mrs. Liu's face changed. After that, the Liu family's grandchildren would pester uncle for pocket money every few days, and whenever Mrs. Liu and her daughter traveled abroad, they'd ask uncle for money.

Uncle went to work every day, ate at the Liu house less and less, and was increasingly reluctant to climb up to his second-floor home, but he still dutifully paid living expenses and still took care of the Liu grandchildren's pocket money. Sometimes he'd ask himself: how did life turn out like this? But he always found reasons to convince himself: they sent you to the hospital and saved your life—isn't that kindness greater than anything?

Seeking Mainland Relatives

The once vigorous soldiers had become stooped and bent, their hair white. Many old soldiers, in situations like uncle's, had been grabbed off the street into the barracks while their families knew nothing. And so for many years, they wanted to convey just one sentence to their relatives—just one: I'm alive. For these three words, the old soldiers endured for ten years, then another ten years, but later they couldn't endure anymore—their parents were getting old. They began to gather at the risk of imprisonment, discussing how to get word to their parents.

Dear readers, the “risk of imprisonment” I mention here is not an exaggeration. Taiwan writer Liao Xinzhong used the term “White Terror” to describe the political atmosphere in Taiwan at that time in “Taiwan Common People's Own Stories”: “For Taiwan, this term largely refers to the Kuomintang's purging and persecution of dissidents or suspects since taking control of Taiwan. The people of Taiwan lived in this environment for a long time, afraid to speak, afraid to express opinions.” Liao Xinzhong also mentioned how this political high pressure penetrated to the next generation: “Chiang Kai-shek's influence persisted into the late 1980s and early 1990s. When I was in elementary school, we still had to memorize 'Chiang Gong's Last Will,' and in music class we had to learn 'Chiang Gong Memorial Songs.' Every time a teacher mentioned Chiang Kai-shek or 'National Father' Sun Yat-sen, everyone had to sit up straight or stand at attention to show respect.”

In the late 1980s, my uncle in Taiwan asked me to send him a copy of “Lu Xun's Collected Letters.” Following his instructions, I first wrapped “Lu Xun's Collected Letters” in a different cover with a different title and mailed it to Hong Kong, then had a Hong Kong friend repackage it as a Hong Kong publication before sending it on to Taiwan. Uncle wrote in his letter: You must be careful—if they find out, I'll go to prison!

Like the old soldiers' patience, this era's patience had also swollen to its limit. On January 1, 1979, the Standing Committee of the National People's Congress published “A Message to Taiwan Compatriots,” announcing that the People's Liberation Army would stop shelling Kinmen and hoping to achieve navigation and postal communication. In 1981, Taiwan's “Times Weekly” and Taipei's “Prospects” magazine held symposiums on the theme of “Chinese Unification.” In June 1982, Taiwan's “Free China Voice” magazine, with Chiang Kai-shek's son Chiang Hsiao-wu as publisher, published special editorials advocating that Chinese peaceful unification proceed in “three stages.”

Later, Chinese-American Chen Xiangmei discussed this history. When answering a Xinhua News Agency reporter's questions on August 21, 2004, she revealed that the issue of Taiwan veterans returning home to visit relatives was first raised by Deng Xiaoping. She said that in the early 1980s, Deng Xiaoping suggested to her that they could first let the veterans in Taiwan go home to visit relatives, saying that everyone was Chinese, everyone had parents, brothers, sisters, wives, and children. So Ms. Chen went to Taiwan and conveyed this message to the Taiwan side.

The old soldiers learned all the information about visiting relatives from mainland broadcasts that Taiwan authorities forbade them to listen to. For Deng Xiaoping's compassionate and reasonable views mentioned above, uncle never forgot Deng Xiaoping's kindness. On his last visit to Beijing, an artist drew his portrait and made his face look quite a bit like Deng Xiaoping—uncle actually laughed out loud, took it back to Taiwan, and hung it on his home wall. Of course, that was later.

The old soldiers racked their brains trying to find a way to communicate with home. Hard work pays off—an opportunity came.

It was a sunny day. The old soldiers invited several Hong Kong businessmen who'd come to Taiwan for tea. The Hong Kong men, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, were very refined and generous. They said everyone was Chinese, everyone was brothers, everyone had parents and wives and children—naturally they could forward letters. The old soldiers were moved to tears and said they wouldn't let them work for nothing, they'd pay a fee. The Hong Kong men said, well then we won't be polite—business is business, and forwarding letters at the risk of execution still requires a good handling fee. The old soldiers put down their teacups and declared in unison they weren't afraid to spend money. The Hong Kong men said businessmen keep their word—hand over the letters and money in five days, and in two months you'll see replies from your mainland relatives.

The old soldiers jumped up and embraced each other, weeping. They completely ignored the elegant, quiet atmosphere of the teahouse and the protesting looks from other patrons, just beat their chests and stamped their feet, shouting that heaven had opened its eyes.

Uncle ran excitedly to Changhua City to ask my uncle for the address—Grandfather and uncle both lived in Changhua City. Compared to uncle, my grandfather was much luckier. He'd long since entrusted friends in Kowloon to forward letters. By the time uncle went to Changhua, Grandfather and uncle had already exchanged several letters with Father.

My grandfather lived a low-profile life and never boasted about personal achievements in his letters. Father told me Grandfather was brilliantly talented, accomplished in poetry, calligraphy, chess, and painting—he said none of us descendants could match him. There's an interesting story about the correspondence. My grandfather's calligraphy was beautiful. Before entrusting Kowloon friends to forward letters, he actually went to Hong Kong himself and mailed a letter directly to my father at our old home in Yunmeng, Hubei. Of course Grandfather didn't know we'd moved to Beijing long ago. His letter amazingly wasn't intercepted—it was delivered straight to the village. This was during our “Cultural Revolution,” when overseas mail was routinely treated as evidence of collaborating with the enemy and treason. But because of the beautiful calligraphy on the envelope, the production brigade accountant couldn't bear to turn it in and treasured it instead. Grandfather couldn't hold out until the 1990s when my father, as a mainland writer, visited Taiwan. The old man had a stroke and lay bedridden for several years before passing away in Changhua in the late 1980s.

Uncle began writing the first letter of his life. He had no confidence and kept crossing things out. Finally he handed the pen to Old Liu's daughter—uncle would say a sentence, and the middle school student would write a sentence. Just when they were writing enthusiastically, Mrs. Liu broke in with a comment: “Hong Zhou, don't tell me you're the only one being enthusiastic about this?” Uncle glanced at her and noticed her expression was strange, with a clear reluctance for uncle to contact mainland relatives.

The old soldiers' letters filled an entire briefcase, along with another briefcase of Taiwan dollars and decades of heavy hopes—all of it was handed over to the Hong Kong men at their hotel. The Hong Kong men with their gold-rimmed glasses remained refined and generous, slowly repeating reassuring words. The old soldiers generously invited the Hong Kong men to drink, raising their glasses to celebrate the wish that was about to come true, as if they could hardly bear the weight of the joy that was coming.

Then came the waiting, the waiting. One month, two months, half a year—none of the old soldiers received replies.

A suspicion that had flickered repeatedly in the old soldiers' hearts became a judgment, and that judgment proven by facts struck the old soldiers' hearts like steel whips: the Hong Kong men had taken the money and gone back to Hong Kong to live the good life! The deceived old soldiers wailed together in grief and anger. When they realized they should settle accounts with the Hong Kong men for their shameless behavior, they discovered they'd left behind no information at all.

Heaven never completely cuts off people's paths. Like the old soldiers, the far-sighted people of this era, after maintaining silence for decades, burst out with a deafening roar. In April 1986, the Kaohsiung City Council passed a proposal demanding that the Kuomintang authorities allow mainlanders to correspond with mainland relatives “to comfort family affections”! The Democratic Progressive Party, established in 1986 and advocating “human rights above all, regardless of party, humanity first, family affection first,” launched a “return home to visit relatives movement” in early 1987! On April 18, 1987, multiple Kuomintang “Legislative Committee” members raised questions demanding that Taiwan authorities reexamine the “Three No” policy to meet realistic needs!

On May 2, 1987, more than 6,000 mainlanders in Taipei established the “Mainlander Hometown Visit Promotion Association,” demanding permission to return to their mainland hometowns. They wore white shirts with the words “Missing Home,” distributed leaflets, and demonstrated. On May 10, they gathered in front of the Taipei Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall and held a “Longing for Mother from Afar” event. This organization's declaration moved countless hearts:

Due to harsh prohibitions, for over forty years, how many people have suppressed their bone-deep longing for relatives in the depths of their hearts. We have already exhausted our precious youth for the Kuomintang and have been silent for forty years. Now is the time for all of us to unite and speak out. All we ask is: if our parents are alive, let us go back and offer them a cup of tea; if they're gone, let us go back and burn incense for them...

Uncle, a man with a rebellious streak, undoubtedly supported all the protest activities. He was a Kuomintang party member who had once believed in Kuomintang central authority, but after corrupt reality shattered his dreams of returning home, he freely withdrew from the party and stopped paying party dues. In early 1987, Chiang Ching-kuo instructed relevant departments to study the possibility of opening up for people to visit the mainland and see relatives. On July 27, 1987, Taiwan's transportation and interior authorities jointly announced the lifting of restrictions—in place since April 1979—that prevented Taiwan compatriots from using Hong Kong and Macau as their first stop for outbound travel, allowing Taiwan people to travel to Hong Kong but not to enter the mainland. This enabled wealthy people separated across the strait to gradually meet in Hong Kong.

On October 14, 1987, the Kuomintang Central Standing Committee passed a proposal for Taiwan residents to visit the mainland, “allowing people to visit mainland relatives; except for active military personnel and civil servants, anyone with blood relatives, in-laws, or relatives within three degrees on the mainland could apply to visit the mainland and see relatives.”

The iceberg collapsed.

Before this, our family had also learned uncle's address from Grandfather's letters, so we entrusted Hong Kong friends to forward letters—one letter, two letters. After several letters were lost, finally one day uncle received our letter, and our family received uncle's letter forwarded through Hong Kong friends.

Dear readers, note this: uncle lost several letters at his Wanda Road residence—I'll mention this again later.

From then on, uncle no longer needed others to write for him. He carefully wrote to us stroke by stroke, pouring out his true feelings. From that morning in 1948 when he left home carrying a shoulder pole and baskets, the one person uncle could never forget was my grandma, whom he'd seen every day with her hair pulled back in a bun, toiling day after day. In his eyes, Mother was the village, was home. He'd hoped for too many days, longing to cry and pour out his heart in Mother's embrace like when he was small, but in the end, these hopes became a dream that could never be realized—in 1975, when he was forty-five and in the hard years of leading troops in drills.

My grandma died of pneumonia from a cold during contemporary China's “unprecedented” era. She held on until one year before the end of the “Cultural Revolution,” living through the most humiliating days of our family. The terrible news didn't reach uncle until ten years later. When uncle learned from the Beijing family letter that Grandma had died, he collapsed on the floor weeping. The warm scenes he'd painted over and over in his mind of reuniting and embracing Mother, of bringing her food and water—all of it crashed to the floor in that moment. Right then, uncle swore that even if he couldn't care for his parents in their old age and see them to their final rest, he would return home to build graves and erect monuments.

Later came April 23, 1988, when uncle, as one of the first batch of people to visit mainland relatives, traveled from Taiwan to Hong Kong to Guangzhou to Tianjin, then to our home in Beijing.

That time, we wouldn't let uncle spend any money. Not counting what we gave him, we also bought him many gifts to take back. For instance, precious fox fur for the doctors at Taipei Veterans General Hospital who'd performed surgery to save his life; Lanzhou luminous cups for Mrs. Liu who'd decisively sent him to the hospital when his condition flared up, rendering great service; Yixing purple clay tea sets for his factory boss who'd been very considerate; jade ornaments for the young people at the factory who often celebrated his birthday...

Uncle packed two large suitcases with gifts, full of joy because he could repay his Taipei friends' kindness in his own way. But he was also worried—the journey would be exhausting. He'd have to go from Beijing to Guangzhou, cross the Luohu border to Hong Kong, fly to Taiwan, then from Taoyuan Airport get back to Wanda Road in Taipei. “Arriving at Taoyuan Airport at night, there aren't even buses—you have to take a taxi!” Uncle sighed. I knew uncle hated spending money on taxis. He was generous with others but pained to spend even a little on himself. What worried me was something else—for uncle, with his chronic myocardial infarction, this journey would be a terrible ordeal.

Uncle went through all the hardships and finally made it back to Taipei. I learned later that the entire Liu family kept the lights on that night waiting for uncle. When he came through the Wanda Road door carrying and dragging his luggage, old and young all ran out and excitedly pulled the large and small gifts that our family of more than ten had carefully prepared into their respective rooms. When uncle helplessly climbed up to his second-floor residence, he could still hear the Liu family women and children gleefully dividing up the items. If not for the later violent quarrel between Mrs. Liu and uncle, their days probably would have continued like that.

Chapter Three: Third Return to Mainland

Returning to Hometown

October 1990—uncle's third visit to Beijing. He was going to return to his Henan hometown to build graves and erect monuments for his parents.

As I mentioned before, my grandma gave birth to three daughters—the eldest and youngest died young, so grandma lived with the second daughter, my mother, and raised the five of us siblings. After Grandma died, her elderly cloisonné urn was placed in Mother's home, continuing to live with us as she had while alive. My grandfather, following New China's monogamy system, settled in Guizhou with Second Grandma. Grandfather died in the 1962 famine, but Second Grandma was still alive.

Dear readers, what follows is somewhat tedious, but these events changed a segment of uncle's life plans, so please bear with me.

Uncle carried out his wishes with the organizational ability he'd developed from years of leading troops. First, he planned to build a grave for each of my grandfather's two brothers in their hometown. My grandfather's grave would be divided into three chambers—one each for Grandfather and Grandma, with a space reserved for Second Grandma. Second, he contacted Second Grandma, far away in Guizhou, and asked for her agreement to move Grandfather's grave. Third, he contacted Jin Zhu, my grandfather's brother's grandson, because building a grave for Grandfather's brother—Jin Zhu's grandfather—would require Jin Zhu's help.

Uncle prepared for these three things for two and a half years. Except for Second Grandma's firm refusal to allow Grandfather's reburial, everything else went smoothly. Uncle went with my mother first to the county to make arrangements for the funeral, and since Mother had some standing in the county and the county and township paid attention to policy, the cemetery plot was quickly settled. For the rest, uncle coordinated everything, parceling out the work—those building graves built graves, those carving monuments carved monuments, those making coffins made coffins—orderly and methodical.

This Jin Zhu was several years younger than me. Early on he'd followed his mother from the village to Anyang City. His mother ran a small tobacco and liquor shop, and he worked in supply and marketing at a factory. Jin Zhu accepted uncle's commission and supervised the work in his spare time. His mother and uncle were cousins. Though they'd had no contact before, when they met this time, their excitement and warmth were no less than our family's.

Uncle's homecoming alarmed the county Taiwan Affairs Office. County people repeatedly expressed their welcome for uncle to settle there, and the township also said they'd allocate land and build him a house. Whether uncle was tempted or not, we don't know—he didn't agree but didn't refuse either, just rubbed his big hands and smiled. After all, he'd left home young and had always longed for this land and water.

November 1990—the weather turned cold. Uncle's major undertaking to send Grandfather and Grandma back home began. I took leave from work, carried Grandma's urn, and went home with uncle and Mother. Like uncle's 1988 experience buying tickets at Guangzhou Station, sleeper tickets were extremely hard to get. I stood in line at Beijing Station for half the night before I got hard sleeper tickets to Anyang, and uncle kept saying with distress: “We'll have to get Jin Zhu to help buy the return tickets to Beijing!”

When we arrived at Anyang Station, the sky was just getting light, and Jin Zhu came to meet us. This was my first time meeting Zhu Zi—he was short and chubby with one eye a bit red, and his face was full of honest smiles. Mother and I were arranged in the jeep, while Jin Zhu stopped uncle. I heard Jin Zhu and uncle talking outside the car.

Jin Zhu: “Uncle, Mother went back to the village yesterday and brought tobacco and liquor—don't buy any more.” (I thought, Auntie's really generous—funerals use a lot of tobacco and liquor.) Uncle: “Zhu Zi, did you receive the Japanese color TV I sent your mother?” Jin Zhu: “Got it, got it. The 24K pure gold ring you gave—I gave it to Mom, and the ones for XX, XX, XXX—thank you.” Uncle: “Why didn't you write back? Made me worry.” Jin Zhu: “...” Uncle: “Jin Zhu, let me ask you—those twenty Taiwan-made new clothes I mailed you to give to XX, XX, XXX—why did you exchange them all for old clothes and make people curse me?...”

I was a bit shocked and quickly looked at Mother, catching her eye. Mother clearly didn't know about this either. She shook her head at me—I understood she wanted me not to interfere.

Uncle and Jin Zhu got in the car, and the atmosphere was heavy. Jin Zhu tried to make conversation: “Uncle, when you go back to Beijing, take the train from Zhengzhou?” Uncle didn't say anything, apparently still angry. I asked: “Are the tickets easy to buy?” Jin Zhu glanced at uncle and his tone became boastful: “My younger sister works at Zhengzhou Railway—the Railway Bureau is practically like our family business.” I quickly nailed it down: “Zhu Zi, three Zhengzhou to Beijing sleeper tickets—can you handle it?” Jin Zhu, blinking his very red eye, agreed right away: “No problem.” I nudged uncle with my hand: “Jin Zhu's helping us buy the train tickets.” Uncle's face brightened.

The jeep sped toward the village where our ancestors had lived. My heart was full of a sacred feeling—I was going to return Grandma to the land she'd longed for, to spend a few days with uncle in this place and help him fulfill his hometown dream together.

A hand-spinning wheel swayed before my eyes—Grandma telling the story of her youth, telling the stories of the older generation. From this spinning wheel spun out long, long thread, thread as long as this Central Plains village's history, as long as the affection of the people here. Now, bringing Grandma home, this village that had haunted Grandma's and uncle's dreams must be beautiful, right?

One hour, two hours—the bumpy dirt road jarred my bones painfully. I held Grandma's urn tightly and didn't dare speak.

The sun climbed high in the sky. Finally, with a “screech,” the jeep loudly pulled the hand brake and came to a stop.

I opened my eyes, jumped down from the car, and immediately felt bewildered. This small village, seemingly frozen in vast and distant history—this was the hometown Grandma and uncle had longed for so deeply? Where was the vitality of the civilized people who'd lived in the Central Plains for thousands of years? Where were the bright tile houses of the descendants still guarding the village? Where were your beautiful new clothes? Where were your bustling little streets like a marketplace? I'd visited the Jiangnan lands touched by the spring breeze of reform—there, every step felt like treading on a bright pastoral poem.

Here it was early winter. I pulled my wool scarf tight as yellow leaves fell and landed on my shoulders. A skinny dog with its tail between its legs darted past the jeep. Following it, I saw sheep, pigs, chickens, and ducks looking for food on the road—though they seemed weak and feeble, they enjoyed the same uninhibited freedom as their masters.

Uncle practically became a celebrity. Villagers, whether they knew him or not, gathered around praising his filial piety. Uncle walked in front with steady steps, followed by a crowd of adults and children. I imagined this was how he'd led troops into battle, walking at the front of the formation.

Uncle was led into an earth house while Mother and I sat in the courtyard. Soon I discovered something was wrong. The small courtyard built with earthen walls filled with people, all pushing toward uncle's little room. Those coming out wore smiles, while those who hadn't gotten in yet looked extremely anxious.

I squeezed in too, took one look, and backed out. Uncle was enthusiastically handing out gifts—giving electronic watches to the men, pure gold rings to the women. The overjoyed men and women stretched out their hands, silently competing for the items in the air.

The clan elder accompanied Mother into the room with a serious expression and called uncle to come to the mourning shed. Uncle quickly put away the gifts, but the crowd didn't disperse.

The village open space had been set up with a solemn mourning shed. Grandfather's and Grandma's portraits hung in the center. The offering table held fruit, pastries, and dishes, along with incense burners, candle holders, and some ritual vessels. White cloth curtains hung on either side of the mourning platform—the vigil stations. Below the platform, two thick, eye-catching black lacquered coffins. The clan elder explained how good the coffin wood was, how many coats of paint had been applied, and uncle nodded. Grandma's coffin held her urn, while Grandfather's coffin held a Western suit I'd bought in Beijing plus some items uncle had brought and things prescribed by the old rituals.

The small village, lonely from poverty, became lively and bustling. Slaughtering pigs, cooking, steaming, setting up tables—people shuttling back and forth endlessly. People from villages within ten li in every direction heard that a filial son from Taiwan had come home to hold funeral rites and all rushed over to watch the excitement. The village's vitality was like water boiling in a pot.

We all put on coarse white mourning clothes and stood under the mourning shed, receiving wave after wave of relatives and guests who came to pay their respects. Everyone who came to offer condolences said the same thing to uncle: “Your parents didn't love you in vain!” I thought this was the most gratifying, most pleasing praise uncle could receive. He must have waited many years for these words, for this scene.

That night, uncle and I kept vigil for Grandfather and Grandma. The eternal flame burned bright. Uncle suddenly said to me: “Little Dong, when the funeral is over, I can die with my eyes closed.” I wouldn't let him talk nonsense. Uncle's expression was extremely calm: “Before this, I had one thing left undone. Now it's done, and my heart is at peace.”

I knew uncle had a congenitally narrow heart. That time he fell ill at Wanda Road in Taipei, Veterans General Hospital did coronary angiography for him. The imaging showed three main arteries—one blocked, one normal, one poorly developed. The doctors tried repeatedly to clear the blocked arterial vessel but failed. In the end, they didn't place a stent and didn't do a bypass. The doctor held uncle's hand and said solemnly: “You're a person supported by one normal artery—you need to take care of yourself more than anyone.”

I comforted uncle, saying science was advancing, saying if he was careful there wouldn't be problems, saying the good days were just beginning so he should have confidence, saying his life belonged to the whole family, saying Grandma's and Grandfather's spirits would watch over him.

Uncle didn't respond. That's how he was—it was very hard to persuade him of anything. Sometimes I felt I couldn't reach the realm where he'd wandered alone for too long. I sensed that sitting in this mourning shed, he was as if facing his own remains, calmly taking stock of how to dispose of himself. I suddenly wondered—did he want to settle down on this land, to be buried beside his parents after a hundred years?

The next morning at nine o'clock was the time for the funeral procession—”setting out at the chen hour.” Smashing the mourning bowl, burning paper, lifting the biers, drums and music together, flower wreaths and elegiac scrolls, paper figures and paper horses everywhere. Uncle carried the mourning banner while I supported Mother. The funeral procession stretched endlessly with no end in sight. To this day I don't understand which were mourning family members, which were relatives and friends, which were onlookers—probably Jin Zhu's grandfather's branch had many descendants. I only remember the road to the cemetery was three li long. Seventy-year-old Mother could barely hold on, and for the last few dozen meters before reaching the cemetery, the entire procession broke into a run. The pallbearers had warned us about this, but Mother still nearly collapsed against me.

After that, the pallbearers lifted the coffins from their shoulders and set them on the ground. Large ropes slowly lowered the coffins into the graves. I saw very clearly that Grandfather's grave held, besides Grandma, a space left for Second Grandma. My grandfather's brother's grave also received the black lacquered wooden coffin uncle had commissioned.

That day, banquet tables lined the road. People from villages near and far, known and unknown, sat down without invitation and ate and drank, and the women and children's mouths and pockets were stuffed full.

In the evening, uncle arranged for a movie screening. People acted as if it were New Year, setting up rows of benches in front of and behind the screen. Women chatted while cracking sunflower seeds, men smoked while watching the movie, everyone relaxed. Children crawled around under the screen.

We went back inside and heard Jin Zhu's mother joking with uncle. Jin Zhu's mother had rarely returned to the village since she'd moved to Anyang City as a young woman, but this time she'd specifically closed her tobacco and liquor shop to come back for the funeral. She was dark and thin, smiled as soon as she opened her mouth, and looked quite honest. She spoke very quickly: “Hong Zhou, don't forget the tobacco and liquor money—tobacco was XX cartons, liquor was XX cases, sugar was XX jin, for a total of XXX yuan RMB.”

These words weren't honest at all—only then did I realize my earlier assumption that Jin Zhu's mother was voluntarily contributing the tobacco and liquor money was totally wrong. Come to think of it, wasn't the deceased being sent off her own father-in-law? How could she, emotionally or rationally, ask uncle for money? I was a junior and it wasn't my place to speak, but a township cadre who was with us couldn't help but protest: “Auntie, you're charging high prices for this tobacco and liquor? Much more expensive than our township shop!”

Jin Zhu's mother stopped smiling, glared, and was about to get angry.

Uncle quickly gave Jin Zhu's mother a way out and called loudly: “Sister, Jin Zhu, let's settle the accounts!”

I watched Jin Zhu rubbing his very red eye as he pulled out a notebook he'd already prepared and began reading the accounts. The accounts went on and on—gravestones, inscription carving, coffin wood, paint, pallbearers, cigarettes, liquor, flour, live pigs, vegetables, tofu, vermicelli, offerings, the band, the movie—reading page after page, while uncle, without a calculator or abacus, just listened.

Jin Zhu was thoroughly prepared, reading loudly until uncle waved his hand to stop—and that was the end of the accounts. I knew uncle had given Jin Zhu a large sum of US dollars beforehand, and Jin Zhu was now reporting where those dollars had gone. After that, uncle gave Jin Zhu's mother and Jin Zhu money and jewelry separately. These gifts probably didn't meet their expectations, because when they came out of the room, both their faces were long.

Later I asked uncle: “Were those accounts right?” Uncle smiled and squinted back at me: “What do you think?” He later told me the budget had already included an allowance for embezzlement—fortunately it hadn't gone over by too much.

Uncle's little room filled with people again. Those who hadn't gotten watches and rings reached out grabbing, even sticking their hands into uncle's pockets, while those who'd gotten things didn't leave either, pestering uncle to hire an opera troupe for three days. Mother and I sat in the courtyard, letting uncle hand out the last of what he'd brought with high spirits. Suddenly, uncle pushed through the crowd and came out. His face was flushed, looking somewhat annoyed. Seeing no one had followed him out, he pulled five small red velvet pouches from his pants pocket and handed them to me: “Just these five rings left—you keep them for me.” I looked—they were all pure gold rings with certificates from Taiwan's Liangji Silver House—and quickly tucked them into my pocket. After we got back to Beijing, uncle used three. I'm still keeping two of them for him.

On the third day before dawn, uncle and I couldn't sleep and took a walk at the edge of the village. Uncle said to me: “Without your grandma and grandpa adopting me, I would have died on the refugee road long ago.” I thought—our whole family had carefully guarded this secret for years, and you'd known all along! So I pressed further: “How did you find out about your background?” Uncle said: “When I was still a child, the villagers told me. So I was always grateful to my parents for spending ten dan of grain to ransom me.”

Now I felt I could tell uncle everything, so I revealed another question I'd been mulling over for days: “Uncle, I don't know which direction your biological parents fled. If you're willing, I'll kowtow with you in that direction to thank them for giving birth to you too.”

After all, this was the land where uncle had lived with and been separated from his biological parents—the bloodline, the family bond was an eternal fact that wouldn't change through life and death. I thought, wasn't this the best opportunity and setting for uncle to have a dialogue with his biological parents?

Completely beyond my expectations, uncle waved his big hand with an unquestionable tone: “When I stood by the sea, I thought of your grandma and grandpa, never of them. People who gave birth but didn't raise me...” He didn't finish the sentence. The winter dawn was late—I couldn't see uncle's expression clearly, but I could feel his disappointment. His disappointment seemed not to be with the biological parents who had abandoned him, but rather with the realization of years of expectations. In those year after year of expectations, he'd painted the land beneath his feet that had given birth to him and raised him as especially beautiful. Actually, when he first returned from Beijing to Taiwan and heard what the other veterans were saying, he should have been psychologically prepared.

He distinctly let out a sigh. Perhaps it was the feeling of spirit and flesh separating. His body had truly landed on his native soil, but he himself had become a Taiwanese guest in the eyes of the locals. The passionate feelings he'd stored up in his heart for decades, which he'd originally intended to pour entirely into his hometown soil, now he suddenly understood that he had no relationship at all with this land, with this village he'd thought about for decades.

Yesterday the township cadres were still waiting for his answer about allocating land and building a house—how should he respond?

Uncle and I sat on the field ridge, each thinking our own thoughts. After a long while, he used his big hand to crumble a clod of earth and made his decision: “Go home!”

I understood the meaning of these two words. From this moment on, he was abandoning the land beneath his feet that had raised him, severing ties with this hometown that had once brought him endless joy and made him yearn with such longing. Now, he only had his sister's home in Beijing.

At breakfast, one of the elders suggested that the villagers would block us asking for money—better to set out early tomorrow morning.

This had a bit of black humor to it. On the morning of the fourth day, under the direction of village leaders, we climbed onto a tractor and, like guilty people, hurriedly fled the hometown uncle had longed for day and night, the place where relatives were now buried.

The tractor rumbled along the undulating yellow earth road. Looking up, the harvested land stretched flat. I suddenly thought of the concept of “averaging out.” Nature doesn't believe in averaging—it's survival of the fittest, animals competing. Today's society doesn't believe in averaging either—the competitive consciousness spawned by reform has already spread across the great rivers north and south. These fellow villagers who want a good life—where should they go to compete, where should they go to seek their share of happiness? Why must they cling to the old spinning wheels, old fields, and old houses left behind by their grandmas?

A bicycle came riding up the small road. According to Grandma, Mother was the first female student in the entire county to learn to ride a bicycle. Back then, not only did the girls of the county follow Mother with envious eyes, even bandits started getting ideas. Fortunately, Mother left home to join the anti-Japanese resistance.

The person riding the bicycle was an unfamiliar woman, probably in her thirties, her head wrapped in a square cloth with only her eyes showing. She waved her arms and shouted at us. I wondered if she was asking for money? The tractor slowed down, and the woman pedaled hard, riding alongside the tractor. The tractor roared, but the woman's voice overcame the tractor's noise, shouting loudly at us—she said she was someone's daughter-in-law, currently divorcing, wanting to go work in the city, and asking uncle to lend her some travel money... Uncle didn't make a sound. He was someone who cared about face. I knew he'd spent all the money he'd brought—otherwise, when buying train tickets and eating in Zhengzhou later, he wouldn't have let me pay.

Jin Zhu broke his word and didn't help us buy sleeper tickets. He and his mother, like those who'd come to the banquet, left without saying goodbye.

I pressed myself against the window at Zhengzhou Station and said to the cold-faced female ticket seller: “These are our certificates. We're buying sleepers to Beijing—soft or hard sleepers, either one.”

Bang—three hard-seat tickets flew out. Which is to say, the elderly could only take hard seats to Beijing.

I quickly pressed my face to the window and pleaded: “Two tickets, okay? For the elderly!”

The female ticket seller craned her neck without looking at me and shouted in Henan dialect: “Next!”

We had nowhere to go. With still seven or eight hours before the train departure, we stood in the fenced waiting area in front of Zhengzhou Station, lining up at the very front, thinking we could board in order. Who knew that as soon as the announcement came over the loudspeaker permitting boarding, the line dissolved into chaos. No one maintained order, no one queued, and we were immediately pushed and shoved by the powerful surge of people behind us who weren't lining up, and we were scattered apart in an instant.

I'd never seen that kind of scene before—people swinging their fists, forcefully opening a path through the people in front of them, pushing forward themselves. I desperately protected Mother and ran forward, just afraid Mother would fall. By the time I got on the train, I discovered uncle hadn't kept up, so I turned back to look for uncle. I walked a long way before I saw uncle sitting in the passageway, unable to move. The surging crowd seemed not to see the person on the ground and roared past him.

I quickly helped uncle to his feet. At that moment, I discovered his feet could barely support his weight. Later, leaning on my arm, he finally made it onto the train with great difficulty. After the train started, I negotiated with the conductor over and over before finally exchanging for one soft sleeper berth. And so Mother and uncle shared one soft sleeper bunk.

The wind from home blew loudly on both sides of the train. The small village sank lower and lower until finally it was level with the distant horizon. Uncle closed his eyes and refused to turn his head to look back at his hometown. From this point on, he and it no longer belonged to each other.

Uncle finally boarded the Beijing-Guangzhou line train. That dream he'd envisioned in Taiwan, which had brought him infinite hope and imagination, of returning home—that dream was now over. I thought, in his heart, home must have transformed into broken fragments, scattered bits and pieces sinking into his deep memory. What was real was the pain. Beijing Hospital X-rays showed uncle's ankle was fractured and needed to be put in a cast.

Chapter Four: Where Is Home

Processing Adoption Notarization

May 1993—uncle's fifth visit to Beijing. How did the warm sunshine of family life shine into uncle's heart? What was it? When? Through which door or window? Oh, it was our family discussing together how to arrange a future home for uncle. Uncle's attitude was resolute: I'm not marrying a wife—adopt Little Dong to me. With this daughter to care for me in old age and see me to my final rest, I'll have nothing more to ask for.

At that time, uncle's health was already very poor. He'd had repeated episodes of angina and been hospitalized many times. The anxiety of having no one to depend on in old age pressed on him—he needed a home where he could be cared for.

Regarding uncle's request, my parents generously agreed. It seemed they'd been discussing this for a long time. Though my husband Tai Lai and I had only just learned of it, we had no objections either.

No matter where we set up this home, we had to go to the notary office to process the adoption notarization. The civil affairs director at Beijing Notary Office was a plump female comrade who corrected me: “It's adoption notarization.” She also told us the procedure: first process the mainland notarization, then after the Taiwan Strait Exchange Foundation verified the mainland notarization certificate, go to the Taiwan side to process the adoption notarization.

And so, following requirements, we ran around east and west separately, preparing a large pile of certification materials: from Taiwan, from the mainland, uncle's, my parents', mine, my husband's, from work units, from the police station... Then we accompanied the three elderly people together to the notary office to handle the paperwork. Fortunately, things went smoothly. After a while, we received Beijing Certificate Taiwan Character [1993] No. 492 adoption notarization. The certificate recorded it this way:

This certifies that Hong Zhou reached an agreement with XX and XXX (Author's note: XX and XXX are my parents' names, same below), and obtained the consent of the adoptee Guo Dong. On August 23, 1993, Hong Zhou adopted Guo Dong, daughter of XX and XXX, as his adopted daughter. Hong Zhou is Guo Dong's adoptive father.

Beijing Notary Office Notary XX September 7, 1993

A notarization certificate is a legal institution's certification of a civil rights and obligations relationship—uncle naturally understood this. By the time uncle received the certificate, he'd already returned to Taipei. I read it to him over the phone word by word. He obviously attached great importance to it. As soon as I finished, he confirmed: “Which is to say, from September 7, 1993, Beijing Notary Office confirmed the adoptive father-daughter relationship between me and you!”

I said: “Yes, yes, Uncle, should I change how I address you?” Uncle laughed heartily over the phone: “After the documents from the Taiwan Notary Association come through, we'll change how we address each other! I'm going to tell all my comrades I have a professor daughter!” I quickly clarified: “Uncle, associate professor!” Uncle said: “Tomorrow you'll be promoted to full professor—day after tomorrow I'll tell them!” We just laughed.

Honestly, I was very moved and grateful. Uncle was a low-key, reserved person. These words he let slip inadvertently showed he was proud because of me. This was the one and only time this topic came up in our interactions—it never came up again after that.

That was autumn, but spring breezes blew into uncle's heart—his hope sprouted and leafed. What followed went as we wished. On December 31, 1993, the Taiwan Strait Exchange Foundation sent verification documents for the notarization certificate.

After uncle received the verification documents from the Taiwan Strait Exchange Foundation, he cast off all his unhappiness. Following procedure, once he went to the Taipei Notary Association to finish processing our adoption notarization, a new life would begin!

At this point, an unexpected event occurred.

I mentioned before that if not for the violent quarrel between Mrs. Liu and uncle, their days might have continued on Wanda Road like that. From the time uncle's salary stopped being turned over to Mrs. Liu, there was friction between them. Later, uncle kept going back to the mainland and kept using his savings, which made Mrs. Liu very angry. Readers have probably guessed that the biggest conflict between uncle and Mrs. Liu was when uncle discovered Mrs. Liu had withheld letters from Beijing. In uncle's view, every letter written by relatives was a ray of light in his life, sustenance for his survival, and moreover, Mrs. Liu had withheld the first two letters from Beijing when uncle was anxiously awaiting news from his relatives. This was their only quarrel, and also the quarrel that ended their relationship. After this unavoidable, irreconcilable war erupted, Mrs. Liu rushed upstairs and threw all of uncle's bedding and boxes down to the stairway entrance!

Uncle sank into the sofa, placed nitroglycerin tablets under his tongue, then opened the drawer that held his bankbooks. If he'd called me then, the situation might have turned around. I would have advised him to stay calm, and I would have also called Mrs. Liu to try to ease their conflict. But no—uncle was accustomed to making his own decisions. His savings weren't enough to buy a house in a prosperous area of Taipei. That day he went to Xinzhuang City in Taipei and purchased a two-bedroom unit. He planned to use that new house to welcome Tai Lai and me when we came.

Leaving Wanda Road, uncle left behind the second-floor dwelling built with heavy investment, as well as the refrigerator, color TV, VCR, air conditioner, wardrobe, and all the valuable items—he left them all at the Liu house. He bent down and embraced his comrade Old Liu, who was already sitting in a wheelchair. They both felt each other's aging, both sensed this was a final farewell, and so hand in hand, forcibly holding back tears, they wished each other well. Mrs. Liu must have regretted it—she followed behind uncle, who wouldn't even glance at her, and chased him to the courtyard entrance, saying sadly: “Hong Zhou, come visit when you're free.”

Uncle's masculine dignity raised his head. He turned around, didn't look at her, and said word by word: “If I ever beg...” Mrs. Liu quickly said: “Where, where would you beg? You're a blessed person—heaven will look after you!” Uncle kept speaking, still word by word: “If I ever beg, when I get to your door, I'll go around it and go to the next house!” He dragged his suitcase and didn't look back.

To be frank, I reflected on this matter later and even called Mrs. Liu. Leaving aside whether uncle was right or wrong to build his house on the Liu family roof, just talking about his moving away from Wanda Road, leaving the Liu house—it's hard to say this was the best strategy, because that new house in Xinzhuang City, Taipei, later attracted unforeseen disaster.

The first days after moving into the new house in Xinzhuang City were extremely happy. No one controlling him, no one reaching out for money—he was his own person, free and easy. Uncle became relaxed and often hummed Henan opera segments. He had his own phone and kept calling to ask me whether I wanted to be a journalist or a teacher, saying he thought Tai Lai should become a freelance writer. Later he also thought of finding work for himself, saying we could all go into business together. He liked houses with shops in front and workshops in back—he'd be willing to sit at the counter selling goods and let us be the bosses. In short, uncle often got so excited over his wishful thinking and novel ideas that he couldn't sleep.

Just when we thought we'd had a stroke of good luck and good people were getting good rewards, uncle's notarization process in Taipei hit a red light.

I knew that uncle was most afraid of filling out forms and writing in his whole life, and most unwilling to deal with people other than old soldiers. But he encountered both these things now.

After uncle submitted a pile of materials at the Taipei Notary Association window, the notary told him that Taipei City's adoption policy had many regulations, and uncle only failed to meet one of them: the adoptive father and adopted daughter should be twenty years apart in age. Uncle desperately protested: “My niece and I are nineteen years and eight months apart—nineteen years and eight months, nineteen years and eight months...” The notary gently but firmly shook his head: “Sir, we cannot process this.”

Uncle collapsed sitting at the entrance of the Notary Association, covering his chest with his hand. What happened next surprised me—uncle, who'd been unbending his whole life, actually went against his own character and went alone to seek out former Taiwan “Executive Yuan Premier” Hao Bocun. How could uncle, such an ordinary old soldier, dare to disturb Hao Bocun? Why did he go to Hao Bocun and not some other high official in charge? I suddenly remembered an experience uncle had told me about.

Battle of Kinmen

1992—uncle brought us a packet of stamps. He pointed at one of them and said: “At this place, I had nine narrow escapes!”

That was Kinmen.

I cried out: “Wow, Uncle, you dared to fight the Liberation Army!”

Uncle squinted and smiled—only people who'd been through life's vicissitudes could show that kind of composure.

For this reason I went to research Kinmen historical materials.

Kinmen Island, plus Lieyu and Little Kinmen, thirteen large and small islands in total. Greater Kinmen Island is twenty kilometers long, ten kilometers east of Xiamen, shaped like a dumbbell with many mountains in the east and many hills in the west. The north shore is a hard beach of yellow-white sand, suitable for large-scale landings.

At that time, with the support of the American Eisenhower administration, the Chiang Kai-shek regime kept increasing troops on Kinmen. Besides the two small islands of Greater Dadan and Lesser Dadan where Chiang's troops were already stationed, by the summer of 1958 Kinmen had increased to 100,000 Chiang troops. Undoubtedly, Kinmen became a battleground where the two armies had to fight.

On the evening of July 17, 1958, Chinese Defense Minister Peng Dehuai conveyed the decision to shell Kinmen.

On the evening of July 18, 1958, Mao Zedong convened a meeting of leaders from various military departments and pointed out: The Kinmen artillery battle is aimed at striking America.

From July 19 to mid-August 1958, the Liberation Army assembled forces and deployed thirty-six ground artillery battalions, six coastal artillery companies, 459 artillery pieces, over eighty naval vessels, and over two hundred naval and air force aircraft on the Fujian front line.

During the most intense moments of the Kinmen shelling, Chiang Kai-shek dispatched Chiang Ching-kuo to Kinmen to oversee the battle. Speaking in his Zhejiang Fenghua accent, Chiang Kai-shek said to his son: “I'm most worried about Kinmen. That island is too close to the mainland and very far from Taiwan. Every one of my 100,000 officers and soldiers is determined to fight to the death. Hold out for five days, and America will surely send troops to help. If you can't even hold for three days, then no one will come to save it. You must go to Kinmen often—the more urgent the situation, the more you must go. Kinmen must be kept safe. If things there aren't handled well, don't come back.”

Following his father's instruction, Chiang Ching-kuo went to Kinmen 123 times in his lifetime.

The American government didn't disappoint Chiang Kai-shek's hopes and urgently dispatched naval and air forces to the Taiwan Strait. The main force of the US Navy's Seventh Fleet came from afar, the first batch of nearly 4,000 US Marines landed in southern Taiwan, and vessels from the Sixth Fleet, which had been in the Middle East, also sailed toward the Taiwan Strait. Within ten days, the small Taiwan Strait was filled with aircraft carriers, heavy cruisers, destroyers, and various modern warships, while the 96th Patrol Air Squadron and 1st Marine Air Wing aircraft circled in the sky. The Taiwan Strait became a battlefield watched by the world.

At that time, uncle's unit received orders to go to the island. It was just a small Kinmen island—superiors required advance scouts, then deployment of battle plans based on scouting results. Orders were issued, and soldiers who'd never fought a battle were individually at risk. One saying spread quickly: The Liberation Army's land, sea, and air forces are waiting in formation—whoever goes to Kinmen dies! People who knew uncle pleaded: “Hong Zhou, don't assign me.” People who didn't know him pleaded: “Officer, I'm still young—my mother is waiting for me to care for her in old age.” Uncle served as the ground commander of the detachment and originally wouldn't have executed a specific mission, but unable to resist the pleas of his young subordinates, he courageously set an example and stepped onto a combat vehicle. By regulations, four people per vehicle—three soldiers should accompany him. “Old Wu!” Uncle waved his big hand and called to his comrade: “They're young—let's just the two of us do the mission, two people per vehicle!” Old Wu hesitated, reluctantly crawling into the vehicle as the engine roared. Uncle engaged the gear and stepped on the accelerator. Old Wu shouted: “Hong Zhou, I'm my mother's only son!” Uncle immediately stepped on the brake and said readily: “Okay, you get out—I'll go by myself!” His calm and tolerance astonished Old Wu and all the soldiers. After Old Wu got off, stamping his feet, he shouted at the retreating combat vehicle: “Hong Zhou, if you don't come back, I'll see your mother to her final rest!”

It was reconnaissance with unpredictable danger. Uncle drove the American amphibious assault vehicle, rumbling into the sea, then rumbling up the slope to land. Twenty-eight-year-old uncle probably didn't know what war he was fighting, and he didn't want to hurt anyone or be hurt by anyone, but when no one was willing to carry out the mission, hot-blooded as he was, he'd rather go into battle in place of his brothers.

Communist planes circled in the sky searching at low altitude, while exploding shell fragments shuttled past the vehicle. Waves rolled one after another, smoke filled the air. One hour, two hours, three hours... At each minute and each second when the threat of death existed, uncle's amphibious vehicle covered every corner of the small island.

“Report,” uncle spoke into the radio, “the island is completely empty. Report complete!”

“Very good, return!” said the other end of the intercom.

We don't know if uncle was willing to return. Anyway, four years after the Battle of Kinmen—in 1962—when Chiang Kai-shek planned to counterattack the mainland and intended to dispatch the Marines to land at Qingdao, uncle was the first to sign up. His thinking was simple: Shandong bordered Henan—landing at Qingdao meant he could run back to his Henan home. Who would serve that Chiang army! Of course, since Chiang Kai-shek canceled the landing plan, uncle also abandoned his dream of escaping home.

What happened next excited uncle for many years. Uncle, who had fought alone, received a commendation. At the award ceremony, thirty-nine-year-old Kuomintang 9th Division Commander Hao Bocun approached him.

Hao Bocun was the youngest general in Chiang's army. This graduate of the twelfth class of Whampoa Military Academy had served as commanding officer of the Kinmen Defense Command artillery since early 1956 and was exceptionally smart. After taking up his post, he demolished all the sandbag bunkers at Kinmen artillery positions and built permanent reinforced concrete bunkers. As a result, when the Liberation Army's intensive artillery fire destroyed almost all the Chiang army's communication systems on the island, only Hao Bocun's division headquarters maintained communication contact with the “Presidential Palace.”

According to statistics, Little Kinmen where Hao Bocun was stationed bore nearly half of the Liberation Army's total artillery shells, with 578 people killed. During one inspection, Hao Bocun had just left the latrine when an artillery shell roared down and destroyed the corner of the latrine. This thick-browed Hao Bocun was simply a legend in Chiang's army.

The thirty-nine-year-old general draped the golden sash over twenty-eight-year-old uncle's shoulders—he was probably the highest-ranking officer uncle had ever come into contact with in his life. What uncle couldn't forget most was the following scene: Commander Hao vigorously shook uncle's hand and said excitedly: “Hong Zhou, you're an example for all of us!”

Inspiriting shouts, prolonged applause, the rhythmic shouts of “Hong Zhou, Hong Zhou” throughout the venue—undoubtedly this was the highest praise uncle received in his life. Everyone saw the cold-faced uncle burst into a brilliant crimson smile.

After 1958, the Battle of Kinmen gradually evolved into a symbolic campaign. The CCP Central Committee and Central Military Commission stipulated that artillery fire would cease for three days during holidays. Later on, regular shells only contained propaganda materials, and the shelling became a political offensive. This kind of “artillery battle” continued from the autumn and winter of 1958 to New Year's Day 1979, lasting exactly twenty years. Uncle had long stopped paying attention and stopped mentioning his past bravery.

Chapter Five: Uncle's Marriage

April 1995—uncle's sixth visit to Beijing. He'd clearly aged, and he lay down on the bed shortly after coming into the house. I stayed by his side, urging him to settle in Beijing permanently—either buy a place and find a companion, or move in with Tai Lai and me and spend his final years in peace. “How could I not want a home?” Uncle sat up with a sigh. “Little Dong, there was a time when I had a family.” I didn't believe it. When we'd processed the adoption paperwork together, I'd read his household registration documents countless times—they clearly stated “unmarried.” When and where could he have had a family? Uncle quickly added: “Little Dong, don't look at me like that. I've kept this buried in my heart for too long. I meant to take it to my grave.” I said nothing. Uncle was used to solitude and could hold things inside. What he didn't want to share, there was no use pressing. I handed him his teacup, and he began to speak. An old story, slowly unfolding with the mist rising from the tea. Dear readers, when you hear this, you may feel as I did—that uncle's experience was like something from a folk tale.

Jiangxi Girl

This happened shortly after uncle was conscripted, in the winter of 1948.

Uncle put on his military uniform and followed the troops marching south, walking day after day until they came to rest in Jiangxi. Of course uncle didn't know about Chiang Kai-shek's strategy of a last desperate stand before retreating to Taiwan—he was still puzzling over why the troops would make camp in Jiangxi and have them live like farmers.

Uncle was born a farmer and thrived in the small village, wielding hoes and axes every day, hauling water and chopping firewood without sparing any effort. Several Henan soldiers who'd never left their villages looked to uncle, hoping he could lead them home. By chance, the platoon leader noticed uncle's ability to rally people and made him squad leader. And so in a remote Jiangxi village, uncle became the talk of the town. Then, good fortune fell from heaven. The landlady said to uncle: “Squad leader, how old are you?” Uncle was about to carry water and stopped to answer: “Eighteen, Auntie.” The landlady grabbed his shoulder pole, pulled him into the main room, and said earnestly: “I can see you're a hard worker. My daughter is twenty. Would you be willing to marry her?” Uncle's face flushed, and he grabbed the pole to leave. The landlady said: “Your superiors can't control this—who would know if you don't tell? From now on she'll be your woman and follow you wherever you go.”

The girl was weaving cloth in the inner room, her hands moving swiftly and skillfully, the fabric spilling onto the floor. She must have heard—the loom suddenly fell silent. The girl was sturdy, capable, and kind—how could he let her down? Uncle's blood heated up, and he forgot about my grandma. He spoke one word: “Yes.”

And so, without any legal papers, with only the moon as witness, our generation gained an aunt. Let's call her Cui. In the village where the squad leader ruled over this small corner of the world, uncle didn't ask permission or report anything—he just lived his newlywed days with Cui. He almost forgot he was a soldier, and he forgot his promise to lead his brothers home.

The weather warmed. Uncle drove the ox pulling the plow in the fields while Cui walked along the ridge. Uncle said: “You and I are like the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.” Cui looked at uncle with admiration: “You know so much.” Uncle laughed heartily: “My mother told many stories and sang so many operas!”

In the village there was a ditch along the river, full of green wild vegetables. When uncle came back from his rounds, he'd dig wild vegetables with Cui to feed the pig. Cui said: “When we sell the pig and have travel money, I'll follow you home to see Mother.” Uncle held her hands and pointed to the dusty dirt road that stretched into the wilderness: “Head north from here—remember, that's Henan.”

Cui was a virtuous woman who'd never left the village. She kept house steadily and was wholeheartedly devoted to her man. Every evening at dusk, uncle would help her draw water and light the fire. Before the food was ready, he'd go to the barracks to eat. Cui didn't know that this simple thatched hut would be uncle's only real home in his entire life, and the warmth she gave him would be the rare love he'd ever have.

Unfortunately, after only two months, when the pig was growing fat, the troops moved out.

Uncle remembered he was a soldier. He told tearful Cui: “If I come back, I'll definitely come get you, and we'll go find my mother and live with her from then on. If there's no news for two years, remarry.”

Cui ran along the ditch full of green wild vegetables, trampling them underfoot, then jumped onto the dusty dirt road that stretched into the wilderness. If the troops had headed north, she would have followed them. But they went south, and Cui sank down at the roadside, sobbing.

From that day on, uncle's unit never again gave him the kind of freedom he'd had in that Jiangxi village, and he lost forever any chance of escaping. From that day on, the ditch full of green vegetables and the woman running along its banks became a vivid image that flashed through uncle's mind for the rest of his life.

Uncle drank his tea and said nothing more.

That young woman chasing along the ditch kept appearing in my mind. Who could know how heartbroken and desperate she must have been? How many years did she wait? How much suffering did she endure? Calculating from the present—uncle was sixty-five, so Cui would be sixty-seven. Under normal circumstances, she'd still be alive. I said to uncle: “Do you have an address? I'll go with you to Jiangxi!”

Uncle's dyed hair, parted neatly on both sides, swayed slightly: “More than ten years ago, I wrote to that village—they never replied. She probably remarried. We wronged her, and we can't disturb her life now.”

I knew that during the early years after Chiang Kai-shek's regime fled to Taiwan, in preparation for counterattacking the mainland, a marriage ban was issued forbidding all Taiwan military personnel from marrying; violators faced court-martial.

And so countless Taiwan servicemen's passionate love and precious youth were buried under that cold, inhumane marriage prohibition order. Tens of thousands of conscripted veterans were alone when they were taken, and remained alone when they grew old. My cousin, an outstanding clerk in the Nationalist army, after the marriage ban was lifted, had to marry a woman he didn't love—depression haunted him for the rest of his life.

Wanting to probe deeper into uncle's heart, I asked: “Uncle, you lived most of your life in Taiwan—didn't you meet anyone you liked?” Uncle's answer surprised me again: “How could I not? I even have a son.” My goodness, uncle, how many secrets are you still hiding! “These are all ancient history,” uncle said. “Why would I want to hide anything from you!” I refilled his teacup as fresh steam rose from the tea. These past events must have touched uncle's wounds—he held the cup in his large hands and spoke very slowly, his tone desolate. Dear readers, what follows was like the plot of an unexpectedly tragic play.

Taipei Romance

Uncle was someone who didn't fear military laws and regulations. When he realized he could never be reunited with Cui, he happened to meet a girl.

The girl was a mainlander living in a military dependents' village. Uncle didn't mention her name—let's call her Miss Zheng. Miss Zheng was a nurse, clean and pure, as holy as an angel. We don't know if they first met at someone's home or were introduced by others. What we do know is that they pledged their love under the moonlight and spent intimate evenings by the sea, bursting with youthful passion and determined never to part.

If they had continued to meet secretly like this, if they had formed an underground family, they might have persevered until the day the marriage ban was lifted. Then they could have announced their pure love to the world and become the happiest couple in the world.

But one day, things took a sudden turn. It was a moonless night. They'd agreed to meet at seven in the evening. Then uncle received official duties. He should have canceled the date, but he canceled his duties instead. He stood waiting under the eaves. Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock... Uncle's feet went numb, his legs went numb. Soldiers didn't like to sit—he was stubborn. If Miss Zheng didn't come, he would stand there forever.

At three o'clock the next morning, Miss Zheng arrived. Uncle waited for her to speak—an explanation, an apology, anything—uncle hoped Miss Zheng would say something. But no—Miss Zheng said nothing.

The military man's anger in his chest suddenly flared. He raised his large palm and struck her. Miss Zheng's tears fell as she turned and strode away in anger. No one reported uncle. All his comrades wanted to repair this romance that had lasted less than a year. People said that whoever tied the bell must untie it—only uncle's apology could win back love. People said uncle's temper was too fierce and needed to change, but uncle said that if Little Zheng had him in her heart, she would naturally come back; if not, then her not coming back was no loss!

No one knows whether Miss Zheng had uncle in her heart, or what caused her to be late that night. In any case, Miss Zheng didn't return. Months later, uncle's comrade Old Zhang brought shocking news: Miss Zheng had given birth to uncle's son.

Uncle beat his chest and stamped his feet, realizing that Miss Zheng's lateness that night might have been related to her pregnancy. But the heartbroken Miss Zheng left uncle no chance to apologize. Uncle's comrade Old Zhang said Miss Zheng had developed mental illness and was hospitalized, and could only return the child to uncle.

Regardless of uncle's desire to continue the ancestral line of the Central Plains through his son, regardless of uncle's hatred for the inhuman military regulations, he understood his situation. For the sake of military rules, he couldn't shelter a son; for the sake of the son, he couldn't let the child grow up in shame. The only solution was to temporarily leave the son with his married comrade Old Zhang's family.

So the son took the surname Zhang. To remember his homeland, he was named Zhang Zhongyuan—Central Plains.

Zhang Zhongyuan grew up day by day, knowing that Uncle Hong Zhou was close to his father, knowing that Uncle Hong Zhou always gave him spending money. He didn't know that Uncle Hong Zhou provided his complete living expenses to his father every month, nor that his birth mother was hospitalized long-term.

Zhang Zhongyuan grew into a strong young man. Old Zhang said countless times: “Hong Zhou, tell the child the truth.” But uncle said: “Old Zhang, let's wait a bit longer—you've invested so much. It wouldn't be fair to you!”

When Zhang Zhongyuan reached marriageable age, uncle funded the wedding; when he reached the age to have children, he had two daughters, Zhang Taifeng and Zhang Taifeng—uncle gave everything. Aside from lacking a title, uncle had a complete family with children and grandchildren.

Zhang Zhongyuan had a stable income and rode his motorcycle to work at the company every day—uncle was happy to see this. Days passed like this without great joy or sorrow. Peace is a blessing, uncle said. But one day, there was no peace. A messenger reported that thirty-two-year-old Zhang Zhongyuan had been in a traffic accident in Taipei and died on the street.

His dream was shattered again. Uncle felt the sky collapsing. He closed his eyes, tears streaming sideways, wishing he had died on that street instead.

His granddaughters Taifeng and Taifeng's mother—uncle's daughter-in-law—decided to remarry, and later married into another city with the two daughters. From then on, uncle had few reasons to visit his own flesh and blood. He occasionally brought money to visit his granddaughters, which surprised his daughter-in-law. So uncle had less and less contact with them, and couldn't tell them the truth in person. After Old Zhang died, no one could vindicate the whole situation.

He was left with only himself. He lost his parents in childhood, his wife in middle age, his son in old age. Several whirlwinds of life passed through—the wind leaves no trace.

Public Security Bureau Fine

Actually, we'd been trying to persuade uncle to settle in Beijing for years. Uncle was just worried about the changing situation and didn't dare to live in Beijing. Unable to resist our enthusiasm, during this Beijing visit, he immediately agreed. Two days after arriving in Beijing, uncle felt his strength had recovered somewhat. Father accompanied him to the police station to register his residence. Uncle's back straightened again, and he used a wooden comb to part his hair neatly on both sides. I don't know if he wanted to enter and exit the Communist police station with the bearing of a trained veteran—in any case, his demeanor was excellent.

We never expected an accident that would halt a plan that might have been realized. A young household registration officer looked at the plane ticket: “Sir, you've exceeded twenty-four hours—by regulation, you must register your residence at the bureau.”

Elderly father accompanied sick uncle by taxi to the bureau's residence registration office. No one told them the exact address—the two old men searched for two hours. Along the way, uncle experienced angina and took nitroglycerin.

The district Public Security Branch household registration officers were kind but firm: by regulation, the fine was five hundred yuan RMB. Uncle's temper flared: “What if I don't register my residence?” The officers remained kind but firm: “You bear the consequences yourself.”

The fine was paid, the temporary residence registered, while uncle lay in bed. That evening, he unilaterally overturned the family's collectively confirmed conclusion, throwing out one sentence: “I'm an outsider—I absolutely won't establish a home in Beijing!” This sentence was final—he never changed it until his death.

I said: “Uncle, the police station's fine had its reasons—I'm responsible for not explaining that you needed to register at the station within twenty-four hours. But this was an accident and has no necessary connection to your settling in Beijing.” These words seemed too principled and rigid, like reading from a document. Uncle waved his hand, completely unwilling to listen.

I tried to persuade him from a different angle: “You're a mainlander—falling leaves return to their roots, you should always come home.”

Uncle corrected me: “The mainland and Taiwan are both China—Taiwan is also my home.”

This was the first time I learned uncle's position—he opposed “Taiwan independence.” I sat beside uncle and asked softly: “You really don't want to return to the mainland?”

Uncle said after a long pause: “It's not that I don't want to...” Two lines of cloudy tears flowed from his tightly closed eyes, his voice full of grievance: “People don't want me.”

Final Uncle

January 1997—uncle recovered from a serious illness and visited Beijing for the seventh time. I read years of vicissitudes in uncle's face—his back was slightly hunched, no longer possessing that military upright bearing. But I knew he would forever maintain a resilient spirit in his heart.

Indeed, uncle said: “Next year we'll go to Guizhou to visit your second grandma.” I said: “You still want to relocate grandfather's grave?” Uncle used his hands to support the sofa armrests and sat down slowly: “We'll see what heaven wills.” I immediately agreed to go to Guizhou. I didn't expect then that heaven might not give us the opportunity.

When uncle waved his hand, I saw his fingers were bare and asked: “Uncle, where's your ring?” Uncle's rings were always being taken by people. I'd once bought him excellent jade. Uncle returned to Taipei and had a gold shop make a large gold-jade ring, wore it for two years, and it disappeared. Uncle said: “A young female worker at the Taiwan factory grabbed it and ran.” I blamed him: “The ring was so big—the young worker wanted it and you gave it to her?” Uncle smiled: “Money is an external thing.” I said: “Uncle, next time you visit, I'll send you Myanmar grade-A jade—we'll make an even bigger ring. You can't give it away anymore.” Uncle laughed happily: “It's a deal.”

Uncle and I were already living like father and daughter. With each Beijing visit, I prepared pocket money for him. Each time uncle asked me to exchange US dollars, I insisted on stuffing them back into his suitcase before he left.

Before leaving, uncle asked me to buy gifts, saying there was a worker surnamed Chang at his factory who had been assigned by the boss to care for him during his hospitalizations—unafraid of dirt or fatigue, extremely friendly. He wanted to buy high-grade fox fur for Miss Chang, plus an excellent leather jacket for Miss Chang's husband who drove a taxi and could use it. I agreed and bought high-quality leather goods at the Wangfujing Jianhua Leather Store.

At that time I hadn't paid attention to this worker surnamed Chang, not knowing she had already entered uncle's life.

My brother and I discussed that since we couldn't persuade uncle to settle in Beijing, we'd help him find a wife in Beijing who would follow him to Taiwan and help manage his life. Uncle considered this for two months until he left Beijing, then nodded in agreement.

My brother and I filled out matchmaking forms seeking a partner for uncle. Probably many people wanted to go to Taiwan—within a few months, women's meeting requests piled up thick. We selected a fifty-year-old head nurse and sent her photo and detailed information to uncle by registered mail.

One letter, no reply; two letters, still no reply. I couldn't wait and called uncle. A young woman answered, startling me: “Hello, who are you looking for?” The other side was very cautious: “Who are you?” I said: “I'm calling from Beijing—please let my uncle answer.” She said: “He's not here.” I said: “Please tell my uncle...” The woman had already hung up.

I privately wondered who she was. Miss Chang? But her accent was northern. That evening, uncle returned the call. I asked: “Uncle, did you receive my letters?” Uncle was very surprised: “No!”

I said: “Registered letters.” Uncle had said at a Beijing family gathering that he had his own mailbox storing his hopes, and he'd unlock it to check his mail every day. After saying this, he'd added happily: “Whoever writes me the most letters will get a reward when I come back!” We'd all laughed then.

Uncle didn't respond on the phone. I understood the situation. Afraid of making things difficult for uncle, I changed the subject: “Uncle, I became a full professor—the approval document came down!” This topic that originally would have brought us immense joy now fell like a stone into cotton, eliciting no response.

“Uncle, do you have something to tell me?” I asked. Uncle indeed said: “The person who answered the phone today was Fan Yue, from Shandong. She married my comrade who died last month. With nowhere to live, she insisted on staying at my place. No matter how I tried to drive her away, she wouldn't leave. I couldn't push and pull her, so I moved out. You called when I was at someone else's home.” Pausing, uncle said: “Fan Yue won't leave and insists on marrying me. She's chased me from home to outside, telling everyone I've accepted her—it's very troublesome. She's younger than you—how could I marry her? She chatters every day—whether I want to or not, I have to agree.”

My heart suddenly sank into a soundless abyss. I could only ask: “How is Fan Yue's character?”

Uncle: “She's been quite good to me—cooking different meals every day, keeping the room bright and clean. Sigh, you don't know how messy my room used to be! She also said she'd support me in my old age and see me to my final rest—she won't marry anyone else and won't leave Taiwan...”

My uncle, where did your lifelong maturity and sober clarity go? I held the receiver, speaking words I knew were weak and powerless: “You must think this through carefully, uncle!” Uncle was confident: “Don't worry—according to marriage policy, I have to return to the mainland to register. Then I'll go to Beijing first and let your mother and you meet her. After you approve, then I'll marry, okay?” Finally, he actually laughed. I could imagine his eyes squinting in a smile. Uncle's heart had no defenses—his kindness flowed forever like a clear spring, transparent and bright.

Remaining Matters

When uncle emotionally accepted Fan Yue, I knew he had entered a river of no return with absolutely no chance of returning from the other shore. But I couldn't stop his behavior.

Uncle no longer wrote letters to us, and even stopped making phone calls. At the end of 1998, uncle suffered from rectal cancer and underwent resection surgery. He would never come to Beijing again—my dream of having long conversations with him in Beijing was shattered.

I don't know how uncle contracted this incurable disease caused by accumulated toil and resentment, qi stagnation and cold intestines. He was content, open-minded, indifferent to worldly affairs, and uncompetitive—how could heaven cast such a devastating disaster upon him?

During Spring Festival 1999, I called uncle.

Uncle was very moved to hear my voice, saying he was undergoing chemotherapy and in poor condition; he'd already distributed his inheritance and asked me to tell mother while reassuring me. I knew he was hinting that he'd left sufficient money for both mother and me.

My tears fell—how could we be talking about inheritance now? Uncle said: I know you want to care for me. By regulation, except for your mother, none of you can come to Taiwan, but your mother is nearly eighty and can't bear the fatigue of travel.

I thought Fan Yue must not have been beside uncle then, because to make me happy, he sang “Rolling the Mat.” When happy in our Beijing home, he'd put videotapes in the VCR and say in Henan dialect: “Let's watch 'Rolling the Mat'!”

Uncle's mood must have been heavy when he hung up, because the next day, my elder sister in Australia called me. Uncle had asked elder sister to tell me he'd married Fan Yue—he couldn't tell me himself and didn't dare mention it on the phone.

Later, from Taiwanese people and from household registration materials elder sister examined at the Taiwan household registration office, I learned the approximate situation:

Fan Yue, a female worker from a Shandong city suburb with good looks. After her mainland husband died, she married a Taiwan veteran; after the veteran died, in the final days before she was forced to leave Taiwan, she moved into uncle's residence in one fell swoop, launching a comprehensive female offensive and demanding to marry uncle. When uncle was in the chemotherapy stage for cancer, despite repeated objections from doctors, she insisted on accompanying uncle on a flight from Taiwan to Hong Kong, then via the Luohu border to Guangzhou, then to Shandong. On January 15, 1999, in the bone-chilling cold season of the north, she completed marriage registration procedures with uncle in her hometown, held a wedding feast with large bowls for drinking and eating meat, then released uncle to return to Taiwan alone. According to Taiwan regulations, a new bride had to wait on the mainland until approval before entering Taiwan.

The cold of that trip and the banquet feast completely destroyed uncle's bodily functions that were recovering, comprehensively activating cancer cells that chemotherapy had suppressed. During that Shandong trip, Fan Yue firmly controlled the situation, forbidding uncle from visiting Beijing, forbidding him from notifying any Beijing relatives, forbidding Beijing relatives from attending the wedding, and even forbidding uncle from touching the telephone.

Uncle remained uncle—he maintained the final defensive line of his conduct. He insisted on dividing all his life's money into several bankbooks—besides Fan Yue, he left mother a deposit of one million Taiwan dollars, and informed Miss Chang and several comrades of the distribution results. This was what uncle meant by his final “all distributed.” Of course, kind uncle wouldn't have thought that the deposits he left us, once they passed through Fan Yue's hands, would never reach us. Fan Yue, relying on her sworn guarantee to “forward” them, ultimately gathered all the bankbooks into her own hands.

The kindest may be the most unfortunate. Unguarded uncle's conscience was at rest. He didn't think of deception, especially from a woman at his pillow. On May 1, 1999, I called uncle's residence—no one answered. I immediately felt ominous and urgently called uncle's factory worker Miss Chang. Chang exclaimed: “Your uncle passed away April 30!” My heart sank, and I urgently asked: “Were you beside uncle when he died?” Chang answered: “No—after he died, I only visited once and then the hospital wouldn't let me go!” After a pause, she added: “Mr. Hong Zhou left your mother one million!”

I hung up and cried loudly! After crying, I couldn't believe it and wanted to verify it myself. Now my phone book from that time is full of red pen marks—I grabbed the red pen I used for grading papers and wrote. I called Taiwan Veterans General Hospital: “This is Beijing—please transfer me to the morgue!” I told the morgue: “This is Beijing—please check whether a Mr. Hong Zhou died on April 30?” They replied: “Yes, a Mr. Hong Zhou died on the morning of April 30.” My tears fell again.

I called the urology department: “This is Beijing—please check whether Mr. Hong Zhou died of rectal cancer?” Reply: “No, not that.” I called the cardiovascular department: “This is Beijing—please check whether Mr. Hong Zhou died of a heart attack?” Reply: “Please contact the ward—Mr. Hong Zhou stayed in ward A191, bed 23.”

I called the ward: “This is Beijing, I'm a family member of the patient. Please let me speak to the attending doctor—I want to inquire about the cause of death of patient Hong Zhou in room A191, bed 23.” Reply: “The patient died of complications from heart failure and rectal cancer.”

It's reported that uncle suffered extremely before death, always remembering Fan Yue's promise to support him in his old age and see him to his final rest. Therefore his murmuring became increasingly desolate: why hasn't Fan Yue come?

According to the guidance counselor at the Taiwan Veterans Affairs Council responsible for veterans' affairs, uncle's final timeline should be:

January 20, 1999, uncle returned alone from Shandong to Taiwan.

April 15, 1999, uncle was hospitalized at Taiwan Veterans General Hospital due to recurrence of rectal cancer. At that time the rectal cancer had reached stage four—the doctors could only remove part of the rectum and create an artificial anus with an external colostomy bag.

April 30, 1999 at dawn, uncle suffered heart failure with comprehensive physical collapse. Before death he could no longer speak.

April 30, 1999, the Taiwan Veterans Affairs Council quickly sealed uncle's Xinzhuang residence and checked the accounts, discovering that uncle's bankbooks contained only twenty thousand Taiwan dollars. All the large deposits had been completely withdrawn before Fan Yue returned to Shandong in early January 1999. The Veterans Affairs Council was also surprised to discover that the Xinzhuang residence had been transferred to the aforementioned female worker Miss Chang!

The guidance counselor told me on the phone: We investigated the property matter. If the Xinzhuang residence had been transferred recently, we would have protected Mr. Hong Zhou's interests and appealed to relevant parties for the transfer to be declared invalid on the grounds that Mr. Hong Zhou was seriously ill with unclear consciousness. But checking the files, we discovered that the Xinzhuang residence was transferred to Miss Chang two years ago!

I understood. Two years ago, when Fan Yue's previous husband was still alive, she was already working to conquer uncle—this was confirmed in her later phone conversations with me. It's reported that Miss Chang discovered Fan Yue's offensive and quickly gained the upper hand through persistent pestering, purchasing the Xinzhuang residence property rights with a minimal amount of Taiwan dollars while allowing uncle to continue living long-term in this new house.

The guidance counselor and I were equally unable to understand why uncle could break through the bottom line of self-protection and transfer the property where he was currently living to Miss Chang. How did Miss Chang persuade uncle? What agreement did she have with uncle? Among the living, probably only Miss Chang herself knows these mysteries.

The Veterans Affairs Council gave up on verifying the Xinzhuang residence property and immediately rushed to the bank to check the accounts, discovering that besides the aforementioned twenty thousand Taiwan dollars in uncle's account, there was one hundred thousand Taiwan dollars in untouched interest. Oh, uncle ultimately preserved the interest money that Fan Yue may have overlooked!

The guidance counselor said: “It was precisely Mr. Hong Zhou's two sums plus that month's pension that enabled the Veterans Affairs Council to arrange a relatively decent funeral for uncle.”

May 5, 1999, Fan Yue arrived in Taiwan wearing black clothes and pants.

May 12, 1999, Fan Yue participated in my uncle's memorial service as the surviving spouse. Facing old soldiers from all directions in Taiwan, the veiled Fan Yue continuously kowtowed, bowed, and collected gift money. Her beautiful face streamed with sweat and she looked exhausted—people all said she was pitiful. The memorial service was grand with dozens of comrades bidding farewell and flower baskets in continuous rows. My aunt and uncle represented our entire family in attending the service and also gave Fan Yue substantial gift money.

Uncle was buried at Taipei County Veterans Cemetery while Fan Yue didn't accept the ashes and entrusted the Veterans Affairs Council with safekeeping them.

In 2006, we built graves for grandfather, grandma, and uncle in Beijing—this was a large multi-burial cemetery plot. We hoped uncle would permanently end his wandering days, no longer encountering childhood kidnapping, youth conscription, middle-age separation from wife and child, no longer suffering the calculations of scheming people, no longer in lonely vigil. His life would achieve reincarnation—like childhood, sleeping peacefully beside my grandfather and grandma again.

Now, Myanmar grade-A jade lies bright green in my jewelry box. Perhaps one day we can welcome uncle's ashes home—then I can present this green jade to uncle.

Uncle, an ordinary Chinese person. No one knew which province or county he was born in, no one knew his biological parents' names or origins. To Henan people he seemed Taiwanese; to Taiwanese he seemed a mainlander; to Beijing police he was considered a Taiwan compatriot; in the eyes of Henan relatives and friends, Taiwan's Mrs. Liu, and Miss Chang, he was a wealthy single man; in his wife Fan Yue's eyes, he was a Taiwan husband who brought household registration and money.

This raised a question that followed him throughout his life: who was he, and where did he truly come from?

Uncle spent sixty-eight years unremittingly seeking his own home. This was the soul's worship of life's origins, life's return to spiritual birthplace. Regardless of lifetime glory, wealth, official position, salary, hardship, humiliation, or even physical life form—none of it mattered. That worship and return were precisely the destination of Chinese life, unstoppably rushing toward a place to settle and establish life, as if fulfilling a prenatal agreement.

But when the lifelong agreement no longer existed, when the distant homeland had thunderously collapsed, whom should uncle worship? Where should he return?

Now, the ripples that once surged around uncle have returned to calm. But how many Taiwan veterans like uncle, homesick as arrows, cannot find the path home? How many people like Fan Yue legally intercept veterans' homecoming through marriage pretenses? What heavy elements of national character flaws—those related or unrelated hometown friends—oppress veterans like uncle?

History rarely records the sacrifices of ordinary people. But my uncle, and the living or dead uncles worldwide who share my uncle's fate—do you forgive this nation's forgetting of your sacrifices? Oh, forgiveness leaves helplessness and bitterness; but without forgiveness, what should you, we, everyone, this nation still do?

(Originally published in Beijing Literature, Issue 5, 2011)

Li Bingyin ed.

The Great Report

China's Reform and Opening 40 Years

A Selection of Reportage Literature

Vol. V/V

Li Bingyin (Hg.):

The Great Report. China's Reform and Opening 40 Years. A Selection of Reportage Literature. Vol. V ; Bochum : Europ. Univ.-vlg. 2025

  ISBN 978-3-86515-610-5

ISBN: 978-3-869966-610-5, EAN: *9783865156105*

This is volume no. V. ISBN of all volumes: I: 978-3-86515-230-5, II: 978-3-86515-607-5, III: 978-3-86515-608-2, IV: 978-3-86515-609-9, V: 978-3-86515-610-5.

Chinese Original: 《大记录——中国改革开放四十年报告文学选》李炳银主编

Translation: Martin Woesler 吴漠汀 (Hunan Normal Universität 湖南师范大学), Xiaoyu (Emily) Wang

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as expressly permitted by law, without the prior written permission of the Publisher.

Bibliographic Information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek: The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available online at http://dnb.d-nb.de.

Translation and book were realized with Chinese state support. The content of the book does not express the opinion of European University Press or the translators. The book is a contemporary historical document of Chinese propaganda. It is made available for scholarly reception.

This edition was published in 2025 by European University Press

Europäischer Universitätsverlag GmbH Berlin · Bochum · Dülmen · London · Paris 2025

Table of Contents

Volume I

Preface, Li Bingyin 1

Goldbach’s Conjecture, Xu Chi 9

The Captain, Ke Yan 36

Infatuation, Li You 60

Chinese Girls, Lu Guang 119

Anecdotes of Sanmen Li, Qiao Mai 181

Tears of the Populus Euphratica, Meng Xiaoyun 195

The Wilderness Calls, Wang Zhaojun 212

Hot-Blooded Men, Li Shifei 233

Volume II

The Great Trend of Chinese Farmers, Li Yanguo 3

Theory Fanatic, Chen Zufen 57

A Record of Sacred Sorrows, Zhang Min 84

Dreams of a Strong Nation, Zhao Yu 124

Wake Up, Lumberjacks!, Xu Gang 179

Reflections on the Bu Xinsheng Phenomenon, Zhou Jiajun 227

Volume III

The Kunshan Path, Yang Shousong 3

Flying to the Space Port, Li Mingsheng 52

Spring Arrives on the Eastern Wind, Chen Xitian 123

When Good Dreams Come True, Jiang Yonghong 171

Wisdom Storm, Wang Hongjia 3

Volume IV

The Concern Between 40,000 and 4 Million, Zhang Yawen 3

Hong Kong’s Return to the Motherland: A 10-Year Retrospective, Chang Jiang 58

Kapok Blossoms, Li Chunlei 85

The Revolution of Rest, Wang Hongjia and Liu Jian 111

A Career Accompanied by Tears, Jiang Wei 162

Difficult Homecoming, Guo Dong 187

Volume V

Nation, He Jianming 3

The Dragon Explores the Sea, Xu Chen 86

Yuan Longping’s World, Chen Qiwen 135

The “Shenzhou” Highway to Heaven, Lan Ningyuan 211

Wings of Wisdom, Li Qingsong 254

Appendix: Outstanding Reportage Literature from Forty Years of Reform and Opening-Up 272

Nation: 2011 — China's Unparalleled Diplomatic Action

He Jianming

“If you have left your country, what remains for you?

If there are no more people, what then is the state?”

—Epigraph

In China, besides Tiananmen Square, the Great Hall of the People, and the Xinhua Gate, there is a place where the waving Five-Star Flag and the high-hanging national emblem appear both solemn and sublime, as well as sacred: the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People's Republic of China.

The building of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs looks from the front like a giant fan-shaped accordion. The many brightly lit windows on the “bellows” are densely arranged and mysterious. In this building, the diplomatic melody of exchange between one country and the entire world sounds daily - sometimes tense and agitated, sometimes breathtaking, sometimes suddenly bright again, sometimes like gently flowing water.

Now I enter this building, approach our diplomats, and calmly listen to their reports... Thus unfolds before me a great event that shook the diplomatic world and made countless diplomatic colleagues and dignitaries from other countries give a thumbs up. This event worthy of posterity belongs only to China, only to our rising state that puts the welfare and lives of the people first.

February 21, 2011: The Birth of a State Decision

Huang Ping, Director of the Consular Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In this fan-shaped building, he is one of over a hundred director-level officials. On this early morning, he got up from a makeshift cot in his office. He and his deputy, Guo Shaochun, Deputy Director of the Consular Department and Head of the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, hadn't been home for two days already. This was only the night before the great battle.

The situation in Libya was deteriorating daily at an unpredictable pace. Since February 19, our embassy there had been sending urgent telegrams to the homeland:

“The Libyan government has lost control over several regions. The development of the situation poses an extremely urgent threat to our 10,000 construction workers and citizens working there...” Since the night of the 20th, there has been a state of complete unrest here... “The situation is extremely urgent. Our construction sites in Libya have been attacked and destroyed multiple times. Some companies have been completely looted, several hundred to a thousand people have been mercilessly driven into the deserted desert by rioters...”

“We are the Consular Department. Protecting the lives and property of Chinese citizens abroad is our duty. Now 10,000 compatriots are in danger in Libya. We must be at our posts at all times and go into battle with all our strength!” said Huang Ping resolutely.

For Huang Ping and the colleagues of the Consular Department, the impending battle was an absolute super-battle: From the African war zone over 10,000 li away, tens of thousands of compatriots who had been in mortal danger the whole time had to be brought back...

“How to bring them back?” “How long will it take?” “How many people and materials must be mobilized?” “What if it takes ten days, eight days, and several hundred, a thousand people die?” When Huang Ping spoke about the extremely urgent, immediate danger situation, his speech tempo was fast as a machine gun, his face bright red, his emotions extremely agitated. The compatriots must be brought back! Back to the territory of our fatherland! They must come home safely! This was the common wish of Huang Ping and the colleagues of the Consular Department, also their emphatic vow.

“In June 2004, 11 workers of the 14th China Railway Bureau were killed by armed men during reconstruction in Afghanistan. I picked them up at the airport. When I saw the 11 neatly lined coffins, my heart ached so much! Think about it, 11 coffins, those were all our compatriots. The mourning relatives were also on site, they all cried heartbreakingly... I will never forget this scene,” said the hardened Huang Ping with tears in his eyes.

“This time it's tens of thousands of compatriots! They are in great danger. In Libya, artillery fire and gunshots reign, bloody conflicts and violence occur every minute. Should they be taken hostage by both warring parties and demand hundreds, thousands of victims, that would be a heavenly tragedy...” Huang Ping's lips trembled. Although the matter was over a year ago, he was still very moved.

“Therefore, the task of our Ministry of Foreign Affairs, our Consular Department, is to bring our compatriots back safely early by all means!” Huang Ping added emphatically: “Bring everyone back, not one less!”

Huang Ping took a deep breath: Yesterday's emergency meeting under Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi was still clearly before his eyes.

Chen Xiaodong, Director of the Africa-Asia Department, reported on the Libya situation: “According to current assessment, Gaddafi has made enemies everywhere politically internally during 42 years of tyranny, hasn't achieved much economically. Externally speaking, the unrest in West Asia and North Africa came with force. Although Gaddafi tried to ingratiate himself with the West, he is still regarded as an outsider, they want to get rid of him. The Libya situation will continue to deteriorate, probably leading to civil war.”

“I agree with Xiaodong's assessment,” said Chen Xu, Director of the International Department. “According to reports from our permanent UN mission, Western countries are preparing a Libya resolution to overthrow Gaddafi.”

“If the situation deteriorates, will our evacuation be hindered by both conflict parties?” posed Zhang Zhijun, Party Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a key question.

“There will certainly be difficulties, but overall there should be no blockade. Bilateral relations between China and Libya are still normal. The opposition wants international recognition and pays great attention to our status as a permanent member of the UN Security Council. They probably don't want to anger us. We currently have relations with both Gaddafi and the opposition. If the work is done well, the political level should provide guarantees,” said Vice Minister Zhai Jun.

Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi had been listening silently. Party Secretary Zhang Zhijun looked at her and said: “Apparently we must accelerate the work, but also be prepared for the worst case.”

“It looks like we have to evacuate,” Foreign Minister Yang finally said in a deep voice. “People come first, human lives are important. The most important thing is that our own people are safe. Now most urgently: The Policy Department and Africa-Asia Department clarify the situation. The Europe Department and Africa Department prepare. At the decisive moment, one must be able to find people, speak, and get things done. Evacuating so many people takes time, we must gain as much time as possible.”

Foreign Minister Yang raised her head, looked at the vice ministers and directors present, and pointed to Finance Minister Hu Jianzhong: “Troops don't move before supply is secured. First speak with the Finance Ministry, perhaps special things must be treated specially.”

“Understood,” Hu Jianzhong nodded emphatically.

Foreign Minister Yang then announced: “The Ministry must now form an emergency leadership group for the safety of our citizens in Libya. Party Secretary Zhijun is the leader, Song Tao and Zhai Jun are deputy leaders. Huang Ping, Chen Xiaodong, and the heads of all departments are group members.”

“Good, everyone act according to Minister Yang's instructions!” said Party Secretary Zhang Zhijun.

“Listen: From now on, no one here may leave their post, except for bathroom breaks!”

According to custom and business area, the Consular Department and the Consular Protection Center were undoubtedly the main executing unit. Huang Ping said these words in the Consular Department and then quickly ran to the Consular Protection Center to repeat the same thing.

“How many people?” “Allegedly over 10,000!” “What, over 20,000 or 30,000!” “My God! How is this supposed to work?”

The young people in the Consular Department and the Consular Protection Center had experienced over ten large and small evacuations in recent years, but so far away, so many people, so urgent - they had never experienced this. Tens of thousands of human lives now depended on them. Hundreds of millions of citizens and ten million overseas Chinese were watching tensely. The pressure was enormous.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs had never experienced such circumstances. The People's Republic of China had never experienced this either.

On that night of the 20th, not a few Beijing residents near the Ministry of Foreign Affairs saw that in the accordion-shaped fan-like building, quite a few windows were brightly lit all night long...

On the morning of the 21st, Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun from the Consular Protection Center came to the department meeting room to participate in the emergency leadership group meeting. Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi, who normally always smiled, now had no smile on her face. With an extremely deep voice, she emphasized once more: “Continue to observe the situation in Libya. Create an evacuation plan as quickly as possible.”

Yes, the great battle was imminent. What should the evacuation plan for tens of thousands of people look like? Who should create it?

“Song Tao leads, the office assists. The Consular Department and the Consular Protection Center lead, all other departments fully support.” Zhang Zhijun, head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' emergency leadership group, issued the order.

Upon receiving the order, Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun were the first to stand up.

“Huang Ping, Shaochun!” Song Tao stopped them. “Give me the evacuation plan preferably before noon. In the afternoon after work begins, there will be a coordination meeting within the ministry, then a meeting between ministries. Without a plan, it won't work!”

Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun understood: This was “extremely urgent” with the addition of urgent as ten thousand fires!

“Yes! Vice Minister Song, we will deliver a preliminary draft before noon!” Huang Ping answered briefly and clearly. He patted Guo Shaochun, both ran quickly to the Consular Protection Center.

“How we spent the next half day, I really don't remember anymore!” Huang Ping shook his head. “In any case, Shaochun's and my heads ran like machines at high speed. All several dozen people of the Consular Department and the Consular Protection Center were mobilized. Some gathered information from the front, others investigated evacuation routes, still others calculated transport capacities. Some contacted our embassy in Libya and neighboring countries, others urgently coordinated with the Ministry of Commerce, State-owned Assets Supervision Commission, Ministry of Public Security, Civil Aviation Administration, and other units. In short, we created a high-quality evacuation preliminary draft as quickly as possible and delivered it before noon to the office, to Vice Minister Song Tao...”

At noon, one could hardly see Song Tao eat a spoonful of rice. Office Director Zhang Ming had no time to lift the rice bowl. Their task was to immediately convert the evacuation preliminary draft into a formal plan that could be presented to the Minister and State Councilor Dai Bingguo, responsible for foreign policy. At the same time, they intensively prepared for the coordination meeting led by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs between over 10 ministries.

At 2:30 p.m., the coordination meeting within the ministry first took place. The department heads participated and came to seven resolutions, of which the evacuation plan was most important. The plan already included sea, land, and air coordination, even the deployment of the military...

“My goodness, what a situation!” some whispered with eyes wide open.

At 4 p.m., the inter-ministerial coordination meeting led by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs took place with participants from the Ministry of Public Security, Ministry of State Security, Ministry of Transport, Ministry of Agriculture, Ministry of Commerce, State-owned Assets Supervision Commission, General Administration of Customs, State Quality Inspection Authority, Civil Aviation Administration, General Staff of the People's Liberation Army, and responsible company employees at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Song Tao chaired the meeting and assigned tasks to the units for the evacuation.

Unexpectedly, there was quite a bit of the unexpected in the meeting. A responsible manager of a construction company in Libya spoke and suddenly broke into tears: “Our construction site has been raided several times by local rioters since the 19th. They all have rifles. Several of our workers were injured. The poor female employees are all scared to death. Just before I came to the meeting, I contacted them again. They said they could no longer withstand the raids and had fled to a desert camp. A few minutes ago I called a dozen more times, but couldn't reach anyone anymore... If something happens to these few hundred people, how should I face their relatives! I beg the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the government, help quickly!”

This was a normally powerfully speaking state enterprise boss. His tearful pleading added some sad concern to the meeting.

“That's why I say: The situation is extremely urgent. Everyone must act quickly with responsibility for the people, every minute counts. Ensure the safety of our citizens in Libya as best as possible, successfully complete the evacuation!” Song Tao emphasized loudly.

“Then assign us the tasks!” “Yes, tell us what we should do!” “And we...”

The attitude of all ministries moved the Ministry of Foreign Affairs colleagues very much.

Then someone from the office reported to Song Tao: “State Councilor Dai is coming soon, he wants to see you.”

“Excuse me, I must briefly meet a state leader,” said Song Tao, immediately interrupted the meeting and threw Office Director Zhang Ming a glance. Both hurried to the office.

State Councilor Dai Bingguo, Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi, Party Secretary Zhang Zhijun came in one after another.

“Old chief, you should have given notice beforehand so I could pick you up at the gate!” Song Tao was somewhat taken aback and offered his superior a seat.

“This is my old home, do we need formalities?” said Dai Bingguo smiling to his old subordinate, casually took off his long coat and hung it over the chair back.

As State Councilor responsible for foreign policy, Dai Bingguo had worked in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for over 30 years and knew almost everyone. The old and new diplomats knew him even better, because he was especially friendly to everyone. When he saw someone, he smiled. Therefore, everyone in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs affectionately called him the “lovable little old man.”

“Almost 70, small and old to boot, not a little old man?” In recent years, Dai Bingguo often said this to people and smiled afterward.

Truly an extremely lovable leader! But now Dai Bingguo's smile quickly disappeared. After the brief report on the Libya evacuation plan, he said: “Whether our people in Libya are 20,000 or 30,000, perhaps more? Evacuating so many people in a short time, the situation is serious, the matter significant. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs can hardly handle this alone. This should be examined at the state level.”

Dai Bingguo stayed less than half an hour in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. But precisely this half hour completely changed the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' original evacuation plan. That is, the greatest foreign evacuation battle in Chinese history rose from the level of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the state level!

“Instruct all departments immediately to quickly redeploy according to State Councilor Dai's instruction!” Yang Jiechi instructed Song Tao to immediately send a new battle order in the name of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' emergency leadership group to the ministry and embassies abroad.

Huang Ping received the order from the ministry to immediately form a Libya Evacuation Emergency Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs with the Consular Protection Center as the main force. The task: Fully support and assist the responsible state agencies in the Libya evacuation.

The internal mobilization meeting of the Consular Department took place immediately. 30, 40 specialists were detailed to the emergency team of the Consular Protection Center.

“Everyone listen, we must prepare for a great battle! From now on, all employees are in a 24-hour emergency state until the evacuation battle is over!” Huang Ping commanded like a front commander, standing in the middle of the Consular Protection Center office.

Deputy Director and Head of the Consular Protection Center Guo Shaochun made a concrete division of tasks: “The center must be divided into contact group, information and telegram group, charter group, telephone service group... All colleagues work in a two-shift system, 24 hours full-time service!”

“Tonight the hotline numbers of our Consular Protection Center for the Libya evacuation must run in the news broadcast and news channel. Are the telephone operators ready? At least two colleagues. I think female colleagues should handle the telephone service. They have a good attitude, are easily accepted by the public. Which female colleagues? He Yu and Chen Feng! Tonight you must go into battle earlier! Are there any problems?” Huang Ping called with raised voice.

“No!” He Yu and Chen Feng answered in unison.

“Jiayao, sorry. Today is your first workday after the month break for your son. But you can't go home...” said Huang Ping apologetically and patted the head of the contact group and deputy head of the Consular Protection Center Zhu Jiayao on the shoulder.

“Quickly clarifying the situation at the front is the best thing I can do for my son and his mother!” Zhu Jiayao didn't even turn his head, was already bent over the special telephone on the desk and called to our embassy in Libya: “Is this Ambassador Wang? Please tell me again about the situation with you...”

“Is this the Civil Aviation Administration? Please confirm how many planes you can provide in the next few days...” Zhang Hequn and Zhang Liang from the charter group telephoned alternately with the Civil Aviation Administration.

“Director, please check immediately...” Zhang Yang, another deputy head of the Consular Protection Center, handed Huang Ping the already prepared citizen information and hotline telegram. “If there are no problems, the telegram will run in the news broadcast and news channel.”

“I think that works. Shaochun, you look over it again.” Huang Ping threw a quick glance at it and handed it to Guo Shaochun.

After Guo Shaochun had carefully read the telegram, he said resolutely: “Let's do it this way!”

Huang Ping held the cell phone, took calls and pulled Guo Shaochun over: “The ministry instructs to check the evacuation plan once more and then send it immediately to headquarters...”

A few dozen minutes later, the news broadcast began. Hundreds of millions of people saw at the bottom of the screen a constantly running line: Libya Emergency Hotline of the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for Chinese citizens: (010) 65963747, (010) 65964095...

From this moment on, the telephone ringing in the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs didn't stop for a moment. It connected with the worried hearts of hundreds of millions of Chinese, connected with the whole world...

“On the first, second day I could still hold out. Later my arms were completely numb. Even numb, I had to constantly lift them, habitually bend and stretch. In short, if you ask me how many calls I answered daily, I really can't remember. Several hundred probably!” said Chen Feng in the interview.

“Most calls came from relatives of colleagues working in Libya. Some cried during the first call - that was anxious crying. The second time they still cried - that was joyful crying because they knew we were helping them find their relatives. On the third call they continued crying, because they knew their relatives were safe, they cried out of gratitude to the Party and government...” said He Yu.

In the hotline calls, besides crying, there was also screaming, incessant screaming: “Please government, please Ministry of Foreign Affairs, please embassy, save our relatives!” Some called from war-torn Libya, asking the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to inform their relatives at home that they were safe. Others were in panic and couldn't say anything for a long time, just cried...

Everyone was worried. All Chinese were worried about their compatriots who were in danger tens of thousands of li away!

At this moment there was another even more worried person: State Councilor Dai Bingguo.

Around 5 p.m., quitting time at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Dai Bingguo hurried to Diaoyutai in the government seat for an important diplomatic activity: accompanying President Hu Jintao at a meeting with a foreign president. Originally this was a protocol activity. But today our State Councilor carried a sacred mission: He had to personally ask President Hu for instructions to elevate the Libya evacuation to the state level.

The situation at the front was becoming increasingly serious. Every minute of delay could bring unimaginable severe consequences to our tens of thousands of compatriots.

“Mr. President, regarding the Libya evacuation, I must ask you for instructions...” In the evening, Dai Bingguo used a gap at the state banquet the President gave for the foreign president and leaned toward President Hu to report quietly.

President Hu nodded from time to time, then turned and instructed Dai Bingguo point by point...

Quickly Dai Bingguo left Diaoyutai and drove directly to his office in Zhongnanhai.

“Connect with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs...” The first words of Dai Bingguo upon entering his office were to his secretary. The secretary reached for the phone and looked at his superior with some pity: He was already a 70-year-old man!

At 9 p.m. in the office of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Song Tao telephoned Ambassador Wang Wangsheng in Libya: “The situation is extremely serious. The evacuation at state level begins immediately. You must on the one hand with all strength ensure the safety and evacuation of the people in Libya, on the other hand strengthen precautionary measures, ensure your own safety.” Song Tao spoke with a firm, emotional voice.

“Don't worry! Be assured that the Party center will hold out to the end and will... fulfill the task set by the fatherland!” “What about your voice? Is it already hoarse? Old Wang, how are you health-wise? Are you holding up? The battle will soon begin...” Song Tao asked with concern and admonished full of worry: “You and the colleagues must definitely pay attention to your health!”

“I'm holding up, be reassured...” said Li Yong. The voice from afar came choppy, accompanied by crackling.

Song Tao looked at his watch and said to Zhang Ming, the head of the office: “The communication situation in Tripoli has already become very unstable, the situation is deteriorating. It tolerates no delay anymore. Call Xiaodong and Huang Ping to me, at 10 o'clock we'll hold an urgent situation meeting here.”

At 9:50 p.m., the responsible employees of several departments - office, policy department, Africa and Asia department, consular department - arrived ahead of time in the conference room of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Song Tao said: “Headquarters is currently reviewing our report, the ministry's work must already now be put into full combat readiness. Thus the entire evacuation operation, as soon as the central decision is issued, will begin with overwhelming force. It's about human lives, from now on we mustn't lose even a minute!”

After a short pause, Song Tao looked at Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun and gave instructions: “You must immediately notify our embassies and consulates in Egypt, Turkey, Tunisia, Greece, Malta, and other countries so they make the appropriate preparations. Ask the governments there to grant all persons evacuated from Libya all possible entry and accommodation facilities. Furthermore, you must find out as quickly as possible what possibilities exist to rent planes, ships, and other means of transport from the countries concerned...”

The meeting lasted not even half an hour, but Song Tao issued several dozen instructions, each of them most urgent! The office, the Africa and Asia department, but especially Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun from the Consular Department and the Consular Protection Center carried with them a load of concrete tasks that would have filled several trucks!

Let's return to the series of “state decisions” in Zhongnanhai.

The evacuation report of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was presented to Dai Bingguo and immediately forwarded to the Prime Minister's office.

Prime Minister Wen Jiabao wrote with a serious and heavy expression a long, important directive on the application for “Level 1 Response” for the evacuation from Libya...

State Councilor Dai Bingguo, who was waiting for the decision of the highest leadership, wanted to just take off his clothes and lie down on the bed when the red telephone rang: “Comrade Bingguo, the General Secretary and the Prime Minister have issued their directives. They have entrusted me and you to jointly command this battle... The situation on site is very urgent. How about if we tomorrow... no, it's already after midnight, I mean this morning, hold the first meeting of the State Council's emergency command?”

It was a call from Zhang Dejiang, Politburo member and Vice Premier.

“Good, I completely agree. However, I suggest that today's meeting begin somewhat earlier than usual,” said Dai Bingguo.

“Good, then let's set 8 o'clock as the official meeting time. I will arrange for everyone to be notified. Rest a bit...” said Zhang Dejiang.

The telephone conversation between the Vice Premier and the State Councilor was finished for the time being.

Immediately Zhongnanhai woke one person after another by telephone: “Deputy General Secretary You Quan, you must definitely participate punctually at 8 o'clock in the State Council meeting...”

When Deputy General Secretary You Quan of the State Council received the call, he hadn't yet slept.

“Foreign Minister Yang, you must definitely come punctually at 8 o'clock to an urgent meeting in Zhongnanhai...”

Yang Jiechi received the notification around 1 a.m.

Song Tao received the notification for the meeting about ten minutes earlier than Huang Ping.

Deputy Chairwoman of SASAC, Huang Danhua, received the notification for the meeting around 2 a.m.

The leadership of China State Construction Corporation and the state Civil Aviation Administration received the notification around 3 a.m....

On this night, many people in Zhongnanhai stayed up all night because various materials had to be prepared for the meeting taking place at 8 o'clock.

Dozens of ministries also couldn't sleep. Most of them knew after receiving the telephone call that headquarters must have a particularly urgent important matter - who could still sleep?

Those comrades who lived in the suburbs set out directly for Zhongnanhai as soon as they received the notification for the meeting...

At 6:50 a.m., Huang Ping hurried with the evacuation plan, which he and Guo Shaochun had prepared and revised in several hours, together with Yang Jiechi and Song Tao to Zhongnanhai.

“When we arrived in the meeting room of the State Office, it wasn't yet 7:30, but almost all responsible persons of the units involved in the operation had already fully assembled!” Huang Ping vividly remembers the scene of that meeting.

Normally State Council meetings begin at 9 a.m., February 22, 2011 was an exception. Because the night before, President Hu Jintao and Prime Minister Wen Jiabao had made the official decision to evacuate from Libya, with a “state response of Level 1.”

What does “state response of Level 1” mean? Simply put: the highest mobilization level of the state, on the same level as dealing with the great Wenchuan earthquake of 2008!

On the 22nd at precisely 8 o'clock, Vice Premier and General Commander of the national emergency command for the great evacuation from Libya, Zhang Dejiang, appeared in the meeting room.

“Hey, everyone's here! As I see, our troop can really be called and is effective!” The Vice Premier nodded with satisfaction, but that was only a brief moment of relaxation.

When the meeting began, the atmosphere suddenly became serious and tense: The situation in Libya was changing from minute to minute, every second it deteriorated in unpredictable directions...

“At that meeting we were all very depressed, but at the same time everyone had confidence and worked toward one goal: According to the instructions of the central leadership, to overcome all difficulties and save our compatriots! The entire decision-making and plan were well thought out, all units asked to go into battle - that was moving,” Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi told me in the interview.

“The evacuation from Libya concerns the lives of tens of thousands of people, the overall situation. We must by all means ensure the safety of our people, by all means secure the safety of our property, by all means safeguard the interests of our country...” These three “by all means” that Zhang Dejiang emphasized became the guideline for action for the entire evacuation operation.

“With such a large operation, we must reckon with sufficient difficulties and also prepare for fatalities... If necessary, we request the Central Military Commission to deploy military forces,” Dai Bingguo added.

The meeting appointed Zhang Dejiang as General Commander, Dai Bingguo was to support Zhang Dejiang, and Deputy General Secretary You Quan of the State Council became General Coordinator. The readiness of all participating units to go into battle was high. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was designated as the office of the State Council's emergency command, Minister Yang Jiechi had the main responsibility, Party Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Zhang Zhijun was head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs' emergency leadership group, Song Tao and Zhai Jun were deputy heads.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs actually took over the function of front command for the entire evacuation operation.

After completion of the battle disposition, the greatest evacuation operation in Chinese history began.

At the front, terrifying war chaos reigned...

The Front Lines

“Bang...” This first shot fell on January 14, 2011 at a construction site called Suluq in the city of Benghazi by Libyan opposition forces. When Gaddafi's female bodyguards brought him this news, the “King of Africa” snorted contemptuously and said: “I am Muammar al-Gaddafi, not Ben Ali! Overthrowing me is not so easy!”

“Bang bang...” This time it was two or three shots, no one seemed to pay attention to them, but the angry bullets from the opposition's rifles already announced something. This day was October 20, 2011, nine months and six days after Gaddafi had heard the previous shots. This time Gaddafi spoke again, haltingly and trembling: “I am the leader of this country, I am your father, your child, you cannot do this...” But no one listened to him. He was pulled out of the concrete pipe where he had hidden and died in a hail of bullets, in a particularly bloody way...

The shots that fell on January 14 at the construction site in Suluq in Benghazi resulted from a conflict between a group of citizens who wanted to occupy houses and the police who wanted to maintain order. Previously, Gaddafi had said on a public occasion: “My people will support me, because I'm building many, many houses for you. Some are almost finished, you can move into good houses and lead a good life!”

What Gaddafi hadn't foreseen: When the poor citizens who had been homeless for generations heard this news, they stormed wildly onto the construction sites of the houses under construction. When they saw already finished or almost finished houses, they joyfully wrote their names on them and then hopped jubilantly “I have a house!” “I have a house!” This calling played no small role - it awakened thousands and tens of thousands of people from the lower classes, who one after another stormed even more wildly onto the construction sites, triggering a nationwide rush for houses.

One must know: The construction projects in Libya were almost all commissioned and carried out by Chinese. During unrest, our compatriots were naturally the first victims. That's a later story. We must first roughly understand against what background the fate of Libya and Gaddafi changed in the first months of 2011.

Gaddafi was very annoyed about the nationwide chaos of house-storming, the consequences were naturally serious. He issued orders, but the chaos continued. In the heat of the moment, he deployed a large number of police to drive away the citizens. The fire was temporarily extinguished, but Gaddafi didn't understand why his subjects had precisely chosen January 14 for their unrest.

On this day, except for Gaddafi who considered himself invincible, almost everyone paid attention to the neighboring country Tunisia. A “great revolution” had in just 27 days completely changed the fate of a country and a regime: The 74-year-old President Ben Ali could no longer hold out that evening and fled abroad with his family, ending his 23-year rule over Tunisia, during which he had been reelected president four times.

It is said that when the news of President Ben Ali's flight from Tunisia reached Gaddafi's luxurious outdoor tent in Tripoli, Gaddafi showed himself very indifferent and said: “The Western invaders want to burn down Africa's revolutionary camp with a few dogs and a fire - that remains a pipe dream!”

Gaddafi underestimated the power of the “fire.” He forced the Libyan people daily to memorize his quotes, but forgot a classic sentence: “A spark can ignite the steppe.”

Afterward, the unrest in Tunisia acted like a fuse and triggered a series of tremendous, earth-shaking great events in Africa. Egypt and Yemen experienced unrest one after another, the Egyptian and Yemeni presidents Mubarak and Saleh resigned one after another, which shook the whole world.

Yemen and Libya both belong to the Arab countries, Egypt and Tunisia lie east and west of Libya. How could such tremendous political storms and people's revolutions in neighboring countries not influence Libya? Especially the Western world had long been lusting after this country on the southern shore of the Mediterranean with its tremendous oil resources.

Fortresses are often broken through from within - Libya's problem lay mainly internally, or more precisely, with the head of state Gaddafi himself, the “curly-headed madman” who absolutely wanted to become “King of Africa.”

Libya is a rich African country with a high per capita income. Especially its oil is of incomparable quality. Yet the population of this oil-rich country of only 6 million inhabitants didn't lead as good a life as the people in the equally oil-rich United Arab Emirates or Qatar.

Libya practiced a planned economy, which wasn't necessarily wrong. The core problem was that Gaddafi claimed to be going a third way that differed from socialism and capitalism, but didn't put the lives of the broad population first and didn't take it seriously. On the contrary, he used his family to control Libya's economic arteries. Since in development one relied excessively on foreign labor, neglected basic industry and projects for the population's quality of life, unemployment rose steadily and the standard of living sank continuously in recent years.

Gaddafi, striving for the “royal crown” of Africa, placed his ambition on all of Africa from the 1990s. He was very generous with development aid for the African Union and thereby became chairman of the AU, which gave him great internal satisfaction.

Gaddafi not only neglected the population's quality of life domestically, which left late consequences, but also made another fatal error: He strongly promoted his home region and the “revolutionary holy sites,” the base of his then military uprising, but strongly neglected the economic development of the eastern city of Benghazi and other cities, where investments were extremely low. Over many years, the capital Tripoli developed prosperously, with high-rises and well-developed highways, while Libya's second-largest city Benghazi decayed, its streets riddled with holes and dilapidated...

The resentment between the tribes in the east and west, who rejected or supported Gaddafi, constantly deepened. Under the influence of the “revolutionary storms” in neighboring countries Tunisia and Egypt, the forces of the opposition gathered and waited for their opportunity. The significance of Benghazi became ever more important at this moment.

Libya in early 2011 appeared very calm on the outside, Gaddafi's portraits and green flags still hung everywhere. In reality, all of Libya was already like a dry grassland shortly before ignition - only someone was missing to light a thin match, and a steppe fire engulfing the whole country would inevitably ignite. Later events indeed confirmed this.

This time “the match was lit” by a lawyer named Fathi Terbil, spokesman of the well-known “Abu Salim Relatives” organization in Benghazi. On February 15, Fathi wanted to go again to the local Gaddafi government in Benghazi to “argue,” but was thrown into prison by the police. Thereupon Fathi's supporters, when they learned of the situation, took to the streets to protest.

The next day, the authorities had to release Fathi, assuming the matter would end with that. Unexpectedly, more and more people took to the streets, and the protests spread to other Libyan cities, including the capital Tripoli...

It's necessary to explain why Fathi took to the streets and what connection he had to the “Abu Salim Relatives” organization.

At the beginning of the 20th century, Libya was an Italian colony. Between 1927 and 1934, Libyan territory was divided into two parts by the Italian rulers, while at the same time white people streamed en masse into this country on the southern shore of the Mediterranean with its large oil deposits. The name “Libya” was introduced by the Italians in 1934.

During World War II, the Libyans rose up against the colonialists, represented by Omar. Even today, portraits of this national hero hang everywhere in Benghazi, even the arrogant Gaddafi called Omar the “father of the nation.”

In the following long years, Libya's external environment was relatively calm. After Gaddafi's successful “revolution,” he broke with the West several times and later “reflected.” Especially since the turn of the millennium, Libya showed signs of “opening up.”

At this time, an event occurred that wasn't particularly conspicuous. On February 17, 2006, a large crowd gathered in front of the Italian consulate in Benghazi to protest because an Italian was wearing a T-shirt with a cartoon image by a Danish artist that was viewed by Muslims worldwide as “blasphemy against Allah,” and strutted around Benghazi with it.

During this protest, a 14-year-old boy climbed onto the roof of the Italian consulate building to tear down the Italian flag. Thereupon the Libyan authorities opened fire, which immediately triggered a conflict in which 14 civilians lost their lives. This day left a deep wound in the hearts of Libyans, the people in Benghazi called it the “Day of Wrath.”

The reason for Fathi's arrest on February 15, 2011 was that Gaddafi's police and military believed Fathi was preparing an anti-government demonstration for the “Day of Wrath” taking place two days later.

The “Abu Salim Relatives” are another story. It begins in the 1990s under Gaddafi's rule. He had police and military arrest dissidents nationwide and imprison them in the Abu Salim prison in Tripoli. Since Gaddafi pursued a brutal policy of “Whoever opposes me dies,” on June 29, 1996, over 1,200 political prisoners in the Abu Salim prison, who were protesting against the inhumane conditions in the prison, were shot by Gaddafi's authorities. Their bodies were brought to the suburbs and secretly buried in a mass grave. Most of these dead came from Benghazi.

This terrible case was not made public by the Libyans for a long time, out of fear of Gaddafi's cruel methods. In 2004, Gaddafi, seeking Western favor, admitted the “Abu Salim incident,” whereupon many relatives of the victims demanded that the government disclose the names of the victims and their burial sites.

The strongman Gaddafi wanted neither to give in nor change his stance, which is why the relatives of the victims of the “Abu Salim incident” continuously organized mass protests in recent years, so that the “Abu Salim Relatives” organization arose in Libya.

The lawyer Fathi was a member of this organization and its spokesman. One of Fathi's brothers, a cousin, and a brother-in-law belonged to the more than 1,200 dead. Fathi was a determined advocate for clarifying the “Abu Salim incident,” which is why he protested every week in front of the courthouse since 2004. In those years, only Fathi did this alone, he sat in prison seven times for it and was repeatedly tortured. But Fathi never gave up, which made him a well-known anti-government activist in Benghazi.

When neighboring Tunisia fell into political unrest and the president fled late at night on January 14, 2011, the news quickly reached Libya. The people in Benghazi, who had long harbored hatred and an oppositional attitude toward Gaddafi's regime, recognized that the time had come to seize the opportunity and raise the flag of uprising. But who should lead the struggle to overthrow Gaddafi?

Fathi! Fathi was their hero, he had enough courage and wisdom! Thus from the night of the 14th to the morning of the 15th, people constantly came to Fathi's apartment, they excitedly encouraged their hero to step forward and raise the great flag against Gaddafi.

“In the name of Allah, I am ready to shed my blood to overthrow the tyrant and despotism...” Fathi showed his stance without hesitation before his outraged supporters.

The secret police of the authorities quickly discovered Fathi's and his supporters' intentions and arrested Fathi on the 15th.

The news spread, and immediately the “Abu Salim Relatives” organization in Benghazi took to the streets to demonstrate and demand Fathi's release. Under the pressure of the masses and for fear that the waves of anti-government protests from neighboring countries might spill over into Libya, the Benghazi authorities released Fathi on the 16th.

Unexpectedly, it was already too late, or Gaddafi's regime hadn't considered that the fire of anger against Gaddafi's rule, which had long accumulated in the hearts of the Libyan population, was now ignited and spread rapidly into a blazing fire that could no longer be extinguished...

On February 17, the well-known “Day of Wrath” in Benghazi, people took to the streets in droves, initially a few hundred, then several thousand, tens of thousands, and finally it seemed as if the entire city, men and women, young and old, had joined the demonstration procession.

The core problem was that the content of this commemoration event changed on that day. This was an extremely serious error by Gaddafi and his leadership group: They sent a large number of police and secret service personnel and even foreign mercenaries to proceed against the masses. The demonstrators wore yellow caps, held swords, iron rods, and stones in their hands, and the police officers unabashedly raised their rifles and beat and shot at the demonstrating citizens.

The conflict escalated, the commemoration event became an anti-Gaddafi popular movement. People in the city of Benghazi directly raised the flag to overthrow Gaddafi, the masses shouted “Gaddafi must resign” and fought uncompromisingly against police and all kinds of oppressors. They responded to the bullets and tear gas of the police with stones and bricks, withstood tank attacks with wooden sticks, door frames, and car tires, burned Gaddafi's portraits and his “Green Book” - these symbols that had been considered sacred and inviolable in Libya for decades - with matches and lighters.

What Gaddafi's regime could tolerate even less: Such “traitor” and “betrayer of the country” behavior didn't occur only in Benghazi, similar large-scale anti-government and anti-Gaddafi mass waves of anger also occurred in other large cities of Libya, and from then on Libya sank into complete chaos.

February 17, 2011 therefore became a symbolic day of the Libyan “revolution.”

The unrest in Libya made the Western world, especially the USA, rejoice - they had long waited for the anti-American front of the Arabs to completely collapse. On that day, US Secretary of State Hillary publicly supported the Libyan opposition at the White House and condemned the oppression by Gaddafi's regime. The British Prime Minister naturally energetically joined in the condemnation of Gaddafi. This time France even went further ahead, President Sarkozy's tone was several decibels higher than Hillary's. UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Pillay also joined in the condemnation of Gaddafi. All this acted like pouring oil on the fire and gave the anti-government forces in Libya tremendous spiritual and practical support.

Gaddafi wasn't the type to give up. On the 18th he held a nationwide television address, in which he on the one hand threatened the demonstrators and said he would take “in the name of the people and the revolution” strict measures to punish those who caused the chaos, including the street demonstrators; on the other hand he declared he would not resign, he would rather sacrifice his life than leave Libya.

Gaddafi's hard stance provoked strong dissatisfaction among anti-government citizens, the resistance mood rose even more. On the 19th, uncompromising conflicts occurred between both sides, which demanded even greater bloody sacrifices. One procession after another of men and women dressed in Muslim clothing carried bodies wrapped in white cloths into the street. These scenes aroused worldwide sympathy, the cruel shooting of innocent civilians was unbearable, Gaddafi's regime sank in raging waves of accusation and condemnation.

“Down with Gaddafi!”, “Overthrow the violent regime!” - these slogans became the actual action of the majority of the Libyan population.

“Gaddafi must give up power,” “The current Libyan regime has lost its legitimacy,” “Gaddafi must face an international trial” - such statements frequently came from the circles of the Western-led, especially US and French-dominated world. Relevant human rights organizations timely compiled statistics: By February 20, 2011, the continuous oppression by Gaddafi's regime had already caused over 300 dead and more than a thousand injured.

On the 21st, Al Jazeera suddenly spread the news that Gaddafi had already left Libya and fled to Venezuela, a South American country. This news triggered a wave of euphoria in Libya, the citizens who were just “revolutionizing” on the street lit firecrackers, danced and sang in celebration. But not long afterward, Gaddafi's son Saif publicly denied it on television and declared his father would never leave his country, even if he had to fight to the last man, he would never surrender.

Libya is a tribal country, the two forces that rejected or supported Gaddafi were balanced at this point, so that nationwide fighting began in full scale... Unarmed anti-Gaddafi activists and citizens resorted to primitive weapons, stones and iron rods, while government police and military used mortars, machine guns, and anti-aircraft rockets.

Gaddafi also claimed that Bin Laden's “terrorist organization” had already entered Libya and joined the insurgents. State television also confirmed that government troops had withdrawn from Benghazi, which meant that eastern Libya was completely out of control and the opposition controlled this region. But a few hours later, it was said that Gaddafi would send troops to bomb Benghazi.

What was really going on, no one could say exactly - in any case, Libya was complete chaos. There was looting everywhere, blood flowed everywhere, and one couldn't distinguish who was doing what. The population of a country had no government of its own anymore in this situation, and a government had no population of its own anymore in this situation.

The Libyan people sank into the abyss of suffering, but also tens of thousands of foreign construction workers who were heavily dependent on local construction projects and the tremendous labor market.

It is said the most numerous foreign workers in Libya were Egyptians, over a million people. Egypt and Libya are neighboring countries with a several thousand kilometer long border. When the unrest began, thousands of Egyptians fled through the desert to their homeland.

But for the many others who had come from far across the sea to build and work in Libya, it was much more difficult. They didn't know their way around locally, the way home was so far - the difficulties were overwhelming.

In out-of-control Libya, airports, border posts, and ports fell into a state without law and order. Even more serious was that the unrest led to comprehensive outbreaks of violence, in which foreigners, their projects, and their property suddenly became the target of tens of thousands of Libyan looters...

Apart from oil facilities, most of the projects commissioned and built by foreigners were carried out by Chinese, and such projects were eighty to ninety percent residential construction projects.

After Libya had sunk into unrest, weapons lay on the streets, some areas fell into a security vacuum, and some insurgents took the opportunity to loot - Chinese construction sites became their preferred targets.

As a result, the attacks on our construction sites in Libya were the rarest and bloodiest. Following are some personal accounts from Chinese construction workers in Libya.

Yuan Liang (Head of the Libyan branch of China Water & Power Group): Our Zhongshuidian company has three major projects in Libya, all for house construction. Two of them are located near the eastern Libyan city of Benghazi, one in southern Libyan Sebha. The first attacks by looters were on the two construction sites near Benghazi, one in Marj, one in the city of Bayda, with over 1,000 people in total.

The unrest in Bayda began on February 17. To ensure the safety of our people, when the Zhongshuidian company found the situation unfavorable, on the 18th during the day it evacuated over 100 construction workers from downtown Bayda to another camp in the suburbs.

Unexpectedly, on the 18th around 7 p.m. local time (1 a.m. Beijing time on February 19), dozens of unknown local looters, armed with primitive rifles, uninhibitedly attacked our camp with stolen vehicles. To protect company property, over 200 employees of our camp bravely defended themselves with stones, bricks, and other things.

During the confrontation, the looters opened fire and injured 11 of our people. The project management on site resolutely decided to evacuate all employees from the camp and retreat to a nearby hill. The looters didn't stop, they immediately looted most of the camp's vehicles, pump trucks, and other equipment and materials and set fire to the camp and warehouses. The over 200 work comrades hiding on the hill wiped away blood and watched helplessly with tearful eyes as the great fire consumed their camp in smoke... The scene was heartbreaking and hopeless.

Tang Zhongliang, called “Lao Tang,” was one of the workers who fled into the desolate wilderness after the looters' attack on the camp, as Yuan Liang mentioned. A reporter interviewed him, and Lao Tang's experiences were even more terrifying:

My construction site was near Bayda in a small town called Sidi Hamri, near the Mediterranean. The minimum temperature in February there was about zero degrees Celsius. On February 18, the first day after the Chinese Lantern Festival, the site manager notified the workers in the afternoon to quit early and go back to the dormitory to properly make Jiaozi (filled dumplings).

Toward evening I had just eaten the Jiaozi and wanted to go out to look at the setting sun on the western hill when I suddenly heard someone in the camp shouting loudly: “Take shovels and crowbars and urgently assemble in the company yard!”

My colleagues and I didn't know what had happened, so we ran quickly to the company yard. Only then did we discover that our company yard had already been attacked by local Libyan looters and some vehicles and equipment had been stolen.

“They'll come back soon. Quickly take everything you can defend yourselves with, protect your own safety and protect company property!” the site management urgently called out. I thought: What was said in CCTV-4 programs has really come to us!

Quickly I and over 300 colleagues were divided into five work groups, which respectively guarded the front and back gate of the yard and the four directions of the wall.

The returning looters were armed with assault rifles and primitive rifles and shot wildly around to loot the construction site again. For the first time in my life I saw such a scene. There was no place to hide, no way to retreat. The colleagues bravely held stones and clubs in their hands. When the villains broke in, we repelled them with stones. The enraged looters were now no longer squeamish. “Bang bang” - after a few shots, some injured colleagues fell to the ground. We had to retreat.

What scared me most: I was hiding behind a car and wanted to throw back a stone when suddenly a huge explosion occurred in front of the car and I was hurled several meters away...

From evening to midnight, the looters seemed to want to completely plunder our construction site. Although the colleagues defended themselves with all their strength, they kept coming back. The site management recognized that this would lead to heavy losses on our side and decided after consultation with superiors to abandon the company and make an emergency evacuation in the night.

But where should we go in the cold night, surrounded by desolate mountains? No one had a plan, everyone could only aimlessly walk along the mountain path. No one knew how far they had gone. In the moonlight, people discovered a house on a hill not far away - it turned out to be a cattle and sheep stable, inside and outside full of dung. But everyone didn't care anymore. First they carried the seriously injured inside and cared for them. The over 300 destitute Chinese workers temporarily sought refuge in and around this cattle and sheep stable.

After a short break, I first noticed that my body was trembling with cold. It turned out that in Libya, where it normally almost never snows, this winter had sleet. We colleagues had fled from the construction site in panic, no one had had time to put on warm clothes. Only in this moment, when the cold wind blew, did we first feel how piercingly cold we were.

It was a unanimous decision to let the injured and older comrades go into the house so they could warm up.

In that terrible night full of storm gusts, lashing rain, and piercing cold, while fear gripped us all like an iron fist, my work colleagues and I tirelessly and self-sacrificingly cared for each other, supported each other in our despair, and finally managed after endless, agonizing hours to survive this terrifying night until the slowly dawning morning.

To avoid further unforeseeable dangers and potential disasters, the site management present on location decided after careful consideration to relocate our position again and bring us to safety. After numerous arduous detours and chaotic back-and-forth movements through the war-shaken country, we finally managed with great difficulty to board the transport vehicles hastily organized and dispatched by our superior agencies. These then brought us to the other Zhongshuidian branch in the extensive suburbs of the city of Marj, where we came together with several hundred other Chinese work comrades who had also been driven from their construction site accommodations and deprived of their homes. Together we all now waited in anxious uncertainty for our completely uncertain, unpredictable fate...

Ma Kewei (Interpreter of the China Civil Engineering Construction Corporation in Libya): Our construction company has a total of 19 large construction sites and additionally about 20 smaller construction site locations distributed all over Libya. We are mainly responsible for the local railway construction projects, with most of our construction sites extending west of the Libyan capital Tripoli along the picturesque Mediterranean coast. Our central project headquarters is located directly in the capital Tripoli.

Before February 19, we had indeed heard rumors outside about demonstrations, violent riots, looting and destruction taking place everywhere, and although these messages made us somewhat nervous and worried, it nevertheless seemed to us as if this violence wouldn't directly endanger or affect us personally.

But when on the evening of February 19 I very clearly and distinctly, unmistakably and frighteningly real heard the shots on the streets of the capital, I really suddenly felt a deep, penetrating tension and real fear rising in me. That was the very first time in my life that I heard actual shots, and this sound was completely different from the harmless popping of firecrackers - it made one feel one's heart in one's throat and sent an ice-cold shiver down my spine.

However, the situation became worst and most frightening after February 20, when local telecommunications became increasingly disrupted and interrupted and we could only communicate via the unstable internet. This isolation made our hearts contract with worry and fear!

On the evening of February 22, shortly after darkness had fallen over the country, we received a desperate call from our construction site in the city of Zawiya. They reported to us in tears that their entire construction site had been completely looted and ravaged by armed, violent looters, that all employees had been forcibly driven from the construction site. Sixty to seventy desperate people had been able to organize two small buses by all conceivable means and with great difficulty and were now fleeing in mortal fear toward our headquarters.

About two agonizing hours later, the two minibuses finally reached our headquarters. The people who got out of the vehicles all looked without exception completely dusty, exhausted, and traumatized, the vast majority of them had completely empty hands and literally possessed nothing more of their personal property... Some desperate workers even cried bitterly and called out full of despair: “What are we supposed to do now!” “How in all the world are we supposed to survive and live on like this!”

When we saw these broken people, we also felt a deep pain rising in our hearts, and we naturally hurried immediately to accommodate and care for them temporarily. But even before we had adequately organized and completed this emergency accommodation, we received from the construction site in Zuwarah an even more terrible, even more threatening message: Armed looters had already completely surrounded and encircled our construction site there, and they now threatened unmistakably that if we didn't immediately hand over all vehicles and sufficiently large amounts of cash, they would carry out a terrible bloodbath and massacre our people!

“The embassy! Quickly contact the embassy! We urgently need help! Please save our workers, save our compatriots...” Full of despair and panic, we therefore immediately turned for help to our embassy of the People's Republic of China in Libya.

But to our astonishment and horror, Ambassador Wang in turn reported to us an even more urgent, even more threatening matter: In that famous, renowned Islamic Institute in Tripoli, several dozen Chinese students were located at this time, including over a dozen young female students. After violent looters had broken into the institute building, they had not only robbed and looted all the personal property of our students, but were now also trying in abominable fashion to sexually abuse and rape our defenseless female students.

The deeply outraged and angry Chinese male students thereupon grabbed everything they could get their hands on - chairs, rods, knives, tools - and bravely and resolutely confronted the armed criminals by shouting: “You can rob our material possessions if you want, but if you dare to harass and defile our countrywomen, our sisters and fellow students, then never - we will never allow that!”

The brave Chinese male students confronted the heavily armed looters equipped with rifles in a dramatic confrontation - the situation was extraordinary, indeed life-threateningly dangerous and tense. The Chinese ambassador fervently hoped that we would immediately send people for support to bring the beleaguered students to a safe place and free them from their life-threatening situation. So despite the omnipresent hail of bullets and exploding grenades, we acted immediately and organized a rescue mission...

Gao Xiaolin (female employee of the China Water Resources and Hydropower Consulting Group): Our construction site was located in the coastal city of Zuwarah, not too far from the Tunisian border, where we had undertaken an extensive project to build 5,000 modern residential units. Our construction site there was continuously and repeatedly attacked and raided by heavily armed, violent looters from the 20th to the 22nd of February for three days.

The local population had a special, culturally conditioned habit there: During the day, when it was scorching hot, they tended to sleep and rest, and as soon as night fell, they became active and went about their activities - the looters and perpetrators of violence during this chaotic unrest period followed exactly the same activity pattern and time structure.

On the first night, six local, heavily armed men stormed onto our premises with their vehicles completely recklessly and aggressively. After they had broken into the construction site, they violently kicked open the doors to our employee dormitories and entered.

They threatened our personnel with long, sharp knives and heavy iron rods, demanded under threat of violence the handing over of all vehicle keys and systematically robbed all our mobile phones, laptops, video cameras, as well as all available cash and other valuables.

On the second evening, even larger groups and even more armed looters broke into our camp. On that fateful day, I was just cooking noodles together with four of my female colleagues in our room. Since I had already been working in Libya the longest of all employees and due to my professional requirements regularly and frequently had to appear in many different authorities and departments in the city of Zuwarah, the local people practically all knew me by sight, and the looters also knew exactly who I was. Therefore on that day they stormed specifically and directly toward me.

Although the company had assigned me bodyguards for my personal protection, these bodyguards could do absolutely nothing against the heavily armed looters equipped with firearms and were completely powerless.

The looters were already shouting and yelling at the door for car keys. When I heard their calls, I lightning-fast grabbed a car key bundle that lay on the table, ran to the toilet and threw it through the small toilet window outside onto the street. When the looters then stormed into the room, they immediately held a loaded weapon threateningly to my head and commanded me with aggressive gestures to hand over the keys. I answered firmly that I didn't have any.

Thereupon they pulled out sharp knives, waved them threateningly directly in front of my face, said with a cold voice that if I didn't hand over the keys, they would cut off my ears, and then brutally and without warning struck me twice with full force against the chest. Everything went black before my eyes, and I fell unconscious to the floor.

But the merciless looters didn't leave me alone even then and continued to kick wildly with their heavy boots on my body lying on the ground. When they saw that despite everything I didn't give in and otherwise there was no possibility to break me, they finally discovered the jewelry I wore around my neck, tore it violently from my neck and also robbed all the cash that I hadn't been able to hide in my haste. Then they finally withdrew triumphantly.

At noon on February 22, the looters came again to attack our camp. At this time, we had been able through personal relationships and contacts to locate the armed tribal militia called “Youth Committee,” which was supposed to help us protect our facilities. But since the number of attacking looters was so large and overwhelming, all employees of our company finally had to completely evacuate and clear the construction site. We became a helpless group of refugees who saw no way out in the raging war...

Yu Lianlai (Project Manager of a construction company from Hubei Province operating abroad): On the afternoon of February 20, around about 4 p.m., the security situation in the city of Zawiya, where we were just located, dramatically and rapidly deteriorated further. The local police station was burned down by enraged mobs, and thick, black smoke billowed threateningly in thick swaths to the sky. I admonished and implored our company's employees repeatedly and emphatically not to go outside under any circumstances, but to stay in the protected area of our project department.

Around about 10:30 p.m. that evening, seven or eight local, extremely powerfully and bullishly built men, who held about 60 centimeter long, dangerous-looking knives and blades in their hands, broke violently into our project department. I quickly and emphatically urged all those present to absolutely not move and remain calm.

The looters demanded from us in a wild mixture of broken English and Arabic the immediate handing over of all car keys. Actually we quite understood what they wanted from us, but we deliberately played dumb and ignorant. The frustrated criminals then gesticulated with their hands the typical movement of the car key in the ignition. We continued to just silently and persistently shake our heads. This angry gang then smashed a whole series of objects in the room in their frustration and then finally withdrew temporarily.

Not even approximately recovered from the first terrible shock yet, we immediately took hurried protective measures by bringing our female colleagues and all transportable, valuable objects to a place we subjectively considered halfway safe. After I had made this makeshift arrangement, I wanted to just lie down exhausted when suddenly and completely unexpectedly my room door was pushed open and broken open with a loud, frightening “boom.”

This time it was three heavily armed looters who were swinging three dangerously gleaming knives and coming directly and purposefully toward me. They held the ice-cold, sharp knife points threateningly to my chest and yelled aggressively: “Car! Car!” I resolutely shook my head and answered firmly: “No!”

One of the fellows seemed to become deeply angered and furious about this, stared at me with wide open, hate-filled eyes and made an unmistakably threatening gesture toward me by executing with his hand a cutting movement across his own neck. I also don't know where I suddenly got the courage and inner strength in this moment, remained outwardly calm and composed and said repeatedly in a determined tone: “No! No! Sleep!”

The three frustrated looters finally apparently actually believed that I really didn't possess any car keys and therefore reluctantly left the room.

I stood up cautiously and looked out through a crack in the door - outside stood a whole larger group of their accomplices waiting. Immediately thereafter I saw how they strategically divided themselves into two separate groups: One group systematically searched our project offices, while the other group looted the workers' dormitories.

This time they actually returned with rich loot - all those objects and valuables they considered valuable and portable were completely and systematically carried away, and even an expensive Toyota off-road vehicle was successfully started and driven away. In that moment it really hurt me very much in my soul and tightened my heart - that was several hundred thousand yuan in value! But deep in my heart I nevertheless felt a certain relief because the really most valuable objects and important documents had fortunately not been discovered by the looters...

But this supposedly good situation unfortunately didn't last long. After another about two agonizing hours, that is around about 2:30 a.m. in the dawn of February 21, our project camp was attacked and assaulted for the third time by organized looters. This time the entire camp was completely cut off from power supply, and we had to put our own small generator system into operation with difficulty and under great difficulties.

After the looters had broken into the camp, they began systematically and thoroughly to personally search and frisk each and every one of us. This humiliating treatment made our people deeply angry and outraged, and some reacted very emotionally agitated and desperately tried to physically defend themselves. I quickly and emphatically gave everyone present to understand through hidden signs that under absolutely no circumstances should we become physical, because otherwise the consequences would be completely unimaginable and catastrophic.

Now survival was paramount, we had to let the looters have their way, no matter what they did. In this way, physical conflicts and confrontations fortunately didn't occur, but the previously so carefully hidden valuable objects were for the most part systematically found and robbed.

Some of my colleagues saw the completely devastated camp and the terrible crime scene where both company property and personal possessions had been looted, and broke out in heartbreaking crying or were seized by impotent rage. I talked emphatically to everyone and tried to calm them: These material things have now been robbed, but the life and survival of all of us is the most important thing and has absolute priority. We ourselves owe this not only to ourselves, but we must also definitely think of our families at home in China - they are eagerly waiting for us to come home safely!

In this way, everyone's agitated emotions calmed down at least temporarily somewhat. But hardly had a bit more than an hour passed when the fourth organized wave of merciless looters again brutally raided our already devastated camp. They were even crazier, even more violent, and even greedier - when they saw that there were no more large, valuable objects to rob, they turned and ransacked our entire camp, inside and out, literally upside down.

This time practically all our laboriously hidden objects and valuables were completely looted and taken away. The very worst and most abominable, however, was that our extremely important personal documents like passports, IDs, and papers were also wantonly destroyed and torn up.

Around about 5 a.m. in the dawn, the fifth wave of brutal looters came again to attack our camp. We, who had endured a whole agonizing, endless night full of fear, terror, and violence, had completely and totally lost the ability for any resistance and any outrage. We only let ourselves be passively abused, humiliated, and tormented.

Three of our work colleagues were severely beaten and injured in this raid, fortunately the physical injuries were not too severe or life-threatening. My work colleagues were emotionally completely broken and mentally destroyed. We all really felt in our own bodies what true misery and suffering means, what absolute helplessness and powerlessness means, what it means to be a rightless refugee in a foreign, distant country. In this desperate moment, apart from bare survival, we thought mainly and above all of our beloved families and our fatherland China...

“The number of construction sites from which no status report arrived or which had completely lost contact was simply countless and could no longer be recorded. Tens of thousands of Chinese compatriots were in an unprecedented, extremely urgent and life-threatening danger situation...” The Chinese embassy sent one desperate telegram after another to the homeland in Beijing.

Whole groups of Chinese construction sites and our personnel there continued to be exposed incessantly to even more dangerous, even more intense war attacks and military assaults.

What should we do? What should we really and concretely do in this desperate situation? The construction sites were destroyed or lost, the dormitories were devastated, the communication connection to our families was completely interrupted, all our passports and documents had been looted or destroyed, food supplies were completely exhausted. The Libyans shot and bombed each other with merciless, terrible ferocity, even deployed combat aircraft to bomb residential areas...

Should we really just become completely helpless, rightless refugees, die abroad and leave our bodies in this foreign country?

10,000 kilometers away, our compatriots in China waited full of fear, cried bitterly, and prayed fervently for us!

Weibo to the Rescue

On February 21, the situation in Libya was merely a sporadic, secondary topic on the international news pages in China's major media.

Everything concerning Libya hadn't yet penetrated with greater scope and appropriate urgency into the public consciousness of the Chinese population. Normal, average Chinese citizens didn't know at all and had no idea that in distant North Africa, thousands of kilometers away, several tens of thousands of Chinese citizens were facing an existential trial of life and death.

On that fateful evening, Wang Yali, a first-grade secretary of the news department of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, came home after a long workday and overtime. Before going to bed, she updated her Weibo profile (the Chinese equivalent of Twitter) out of pure habit.

Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, a desperate Weibo post that had been sent directly from Libya and was marked with several conspicuous, dramatic exclamation marks penetrated her field of vision and attention.

“Save the Chinese citizens in Libya, we are in greatest, acute mortal danger!”

The author of this desperate Weibo post was named Xu Feng. We later learned that he was a simple employee of the 11th China Railway Bureau in Libya. In a completely desperate situation, in which both landline phones and mobile phone signals were completely interrupted and he absolutely couldn't establish connection to any official agency, the deeply desperate Xu Feng sent this urgent call for help message on the Sina Weibo platform with the last hope of clinging to the very last, thinnest straw.

This was the very first Chinese citizen distress call Weibo post ever sent from the crisis area Libya. It was also the very first time since the emergence and introduction of Weibo in China that a single post was directly and immediately connected with the life and survival of over 1,000 people.

Four agonizing, endless hours passed slowly, but this Weibo post destined to enter the history books was noticed or taken note of by absolutely no one. In the gigantic Weibo community, in which literally every single second tens of thousands of new messages and posts are produced and published, the desperate cry for help of an ordinary, unknown person is comparable to a single sheet of paper being thrown into a huge library or a tiny needle falling into the vast Pacific Ocean.

Xu Feng's Weibo account had at this time merely some dozen followers and subscribers, his dissemination power and reach was accordingly extremely limited.

As time progressed and hours passed, the mood of Xu Feng, staring tensely and desperately at his computer screen, sank point by point, minute by minute deeper into a bottomless abyss of hopelessness. Suddenly he had a saving idea and began systematically to send this urgent message to numerous Weibo “Big Names,” to influential celebrities and opinion leaders, in the desperate hope of achieving through their enormous reach and influence a second, much broader wave of dissemination and thereby informing many more people about their desperate situation.

He sent his post among others to the so-called “Weibo Queen” @Yao Chen, a famous Chinese actress, as well as to the well-known real estate entrepreneur and philanthropist @Pan Shiyi and many other influential personalities.

But since there are countless such dramatic messages daily on Weibo and it's often extraordinarily difficult to distinguish between true and false reports, Xu Feng in his innermost being didn't really dare to hope or expect that the famous Weibo personalities would actually take his message seriously and forward it.

To his overwhelming surprise and relief, Pan Shiyi at exactly 11:36 p.m. actually forwarded this desperate Weibo post to his millions of followers and wrote as justification for the forwarding the moving comment: “Regardless of whether this message is true or not, saving human lives must always take precedence!”

Pan Shiyi's tremendous influence on the Weibo platform was really astonishing and impressive - in the shortest time this Weibo post was forwarded and disseminated by other users over 4,000 times.

At exactly 11:50 p.m., Wang Yali finally saw the Weibo post forwarded by countless worried people appear on her screen. She clicked through to Xu Feng's personal profile page and saw there many more, even more urgent and detailed Weibo posts:

“Chinese companies and enterprises in Libya in acute distress, the security situation is extraordinarily serious and life-threatening, many of our project locations were destroyed and ravaged by looters, communication is completely interrupted, we absolutely urgently need concrete support and help from the homeland. Pan-Boss, please help us through forwarding, please help contact the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We are in greatest mortal danger, urgent urgent urgent!!!”

“Acute emergency and mortal danger. Over 100 heavily armed insurgents and looters have completely surrounded and encircled our location. Urgent, urgent, urgent!”

The related, connected Weibo posts were forwarded and disseminated a total of over 13,000 times by worried citizens. In the numerous comments under these dramatic Weibo posts, many engaged Weibo users began to give concrete advice and propose solutions. Some suggested immediately calling the official telephone number of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, some wanted to locate a high-ranking diplomat through private relationships and contacts. Some desperate commentators called directly and accusingly: “Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People's Republic of China, our Chinese citizens are trapped abroad in greatest danger - where are you, what are you doing?!”

“I am right here! I'm taking care of it!” In this dramatic midnight Weibo community, Wang Yali's blood was already boiling with outrage and a desire for action. She immediately and without hesitation forwarded Xu Feng's desperate Weibo post to her own followers and added a short, reassuring comment: “An employee from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is here and is currently intensively informing herself about the entire situation...”

Immediately thereafter she posted another, even more detailed Weibo: “Have already contacted and informed the responsible Consular Department and Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They know all circumstances and details by now, allegedly the official emergency evacuation plan is already completely worked out and ready. Don't worry excessively, hold out and stay strong!”

When Xu Feng saw this reassuring Weibo post on his screen, he finally felt somewhat safer and more hopeful in his desperate heart. To expect that someone would immediately fly from the distant homeland and come to him was of course completely unrealistic. The temporary difficulties and dangers could also somehow be overcome and endured. The really important and decisive thing was to have any concrete hope at all. Now he and the several tens of thousands of Chinese compatriots in Libya knew with certainty that the fatherland would come and do everything in its power to save them!

Wang Yali sat the entire remaining night through in her living room, clutching her laptop firmly, and maintained constant, reassuring dialogue and exchange with Xu Feng and other affected people in the Weibo community.

At exactly 6:45 a.m. in the early morning, Xu Feng posted with relief on Weibo: “Please all be reassured, we are currently safe. I'm now going to keep watch and monitor the situation, the latest developments and information will be continuously updated in real time!”

On the morning of February 22, it had really literally happened overnight: The dramatic situation in Libya and the precarious situation of the Chinese citizens stuck there had become the absolute focal point and main topic of the entire Weibo community and even much more the central, dominant topic of all major mainstream media throughout China.

Self-Defense and Survival

“No, absolutely no, we cannot just passively wait for our death here! We cannot and will not allow violent looters to arbitrarily and at will rob, destroy, and extinguish our hard-earned property and our valuable lives!” The Chinese were definitely not vegetarians and not defenseless victims.

Although literally none of them had ever before in their lives directly experienced or gone through a real war, there were nevertheless in the organized construction groups and work teams numerous experienced leadership personalities and capable organizers with solid military background and training. Many of them had in their youth even been active members of the people's militia and therefore understood at least the basic principles of effective self-defense and strategically clever defense.

Let's look at what happened at our Chinese construction site in Zuwarah:

The responsible company manager learned through emergency calls from neighboring, friendly construction sites of the continuous, repeated attacks of the armed looters. After he briefly but thoroughly inquired about the current security situation, he immediately called over 50 experienced, strong excavator operators to an emergency meeting and said with firm, resolute voice: “The armed bandits will very soon come here and attack us. You must now immediately use all your technical skill and your entire experience and within a maximum of 3 hours dig around our entire construction site a three to five meter wide and likewise three to five meter deep defensive trench!”

The astonished excavator operators naturally asked: “What do we need that for?”

The manager answered with grim humor: “To defend against dog bites! For bare survival!”

The experienced masters and excavator operators immediately understood the seriousness of the situation, called together a vigorous, resolute “Good!” and started their several dozen large, heavy excavators and construction machines without delay. They dug simultaneously from left, right, front, back, from east, south, west, and north - that was a truly magnificent, impressive sight of collective effort.

At the same time and in parallel, the prudent site manager organized all remaining available employees to systematically move all valuable and useful equipment, tools, and materials to the central area that the excavators were just intensively working on.

After several hours of most intensive, coordinated work, when the glowing sun finally sank and set behind the endless, vast desert, a tremendous, imposing “fortress” of piled-up sand and compacted earth had arisen in the middle of the construction site.

Indeed and as predicted, not even an hour later several aggressive groups of hungry, wolf-like local looters came racing in several previously stolen cars and vehicles from three different directions simultaneously toward this well-prepared construction site. When the looters finally reached the heavily fortified construction site and saw the situation with their own eyes, they were immediately completely speechless and perplexed - all around the entire place ran continuous large, wide, and deep defensive trenches. People and vehicles could impossibly and under no circumstances penetrate into the fortified interior.

“Damn and cursed, let's get out of here immediately! Let's go somewhere else and try our luck there!” The frustrated and angry looters shot in their helpless rage a wild salvo of rifle bullets toward the fortified “fortress” and then had to withdraw empty-handed, without any loot, and disappear.

“Trench warfare! Hey, good old trench warfare! We are China's brave construction troop...” When they saw and observed how one frustrated group after another of looters withdrew disappointed and unsuccessfully, the brave Chinese workers in the protective “fortress” involuntarily simultaneously broke into relieved tears and spontaneously began to sing with the familiar, nostalgic melody of the famous Chinese film “Tunnel Warfare” from the time of the war against Japan.

This overwhelming feeling of proud victory combined with the frightening, nerve-wracking experience made the several hundred bonded compatriots on the construction site emotionally fluctuate between deep sadness and exuberant joy.

Such successful, courageous “war examples” and creative defense strategies were also employed at the construction site of the 2nd Zhongshuidian Bureau in the city of Marj in eastern Libya and proved extraordinarily effective and life-saving there.

This also made it possible for the important camp of the Zhongshuidian Group in Marj to be kept fully intact and functional and thereby able to offer safe evacuation conditions and a logistical base for over 10,000 Chinese compatriots in the entire Benghazi region - a truly heroic deed and achievement that absolutely deserves to be sung of in songs and recorded in history books.

The Great Evacuation Begins

“Evacuate! Evacuate from Libya at absolutely any cost!”

From noon on February 22 to the early morning of the 23rd, the vast majority of Chinese companies and Chinese employees everywhere in Libya received one after another and through various communication channels such a stirring, hopeful message that filled their hearts with new hope. This was the powerful voice of the fatherland directed at compatriots in acute distress and danger. It was systematically transmitted through all conceivable and available communication channels to every single place in all of Libya where even just any Chinese citizen was located...

It was again the young, committed interpreter Ma Kewei from the Libyan project headquarters of the China Civil Engineering Corporation who later reported:

“Our revered General Director Chen Zhijie returned, after he had participated in the high-level emergency command meeting in Beijing personally led by Vice Premier Zhang Dejiang, together with our company's CFO via a complicated detour on a Turkish scheduled flight to Tripoli. When the two returned to the company camp with the historic decision and instruction of the fatherland and I grasped and shook their hands, I could only say the simple words 'You're finally here, you've really come' before I couldn't hold back my tears anymore and just let them flow freely.”

“What are you crying about? Quickly and efficiently organize all our people and prepare yourselves thoroughly to return safely to the fatherland!” General Director Chen Zhijie yelled at the emotionally overwhelmed young man with a pretend rough voice, although he himself in truth was also tear-streaked and could hardly speak.

“Special Action Group”

This was a particularly important, strategically decisive component of the emergency evacuation plan that the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs had officially submitted to the central government - namely, in case of greatest need and highest urgency, to dispatch a highly qualified “Special Action Group” directly to the crisis area. This special action group consisted mainly of particularly experienced, competent employees of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, supplemented by specially selected specialists from the Ministry of Public Security, the Ministry of Commerce, and other relevant government departments. They were to be sent to the scene to professionally handle and manage the complex situation on the ground in the official name of the Chinese government or the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In the internal parlance of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, they were simply called “working group,” but in reality and in their function, it was a highly specialized special action group.

However, the fundamental nature and character of our Chinese special action group differed considerably from the “special action groups” that the USA and other Western countries usually and routinely dispatched. In films and television series, one often and regularly sees that the special action groups sent by the USA basically and without exception consisted of heavily armed, militarily trained personnel who penetrated deeply and covertly into the affected country or crisis region to conduct high-risk armed military operations such as dramatic hostage rescues. Some of these Western special action groups even had the explicit goal of gathering intelligence information or specifically destabilizing and overthrowing hostile, unwelcome governments. In contrast, our diplomatic special action groups conducted mainly and exclusively humanitarian evacuation operations, carried a purely peaceful mission, and consisted without exception of civilian, unarmed personnel.

00:10 hours: “Civil Aviation Administration, please immediately prepare two aircraft to fly to Tripoli, the capital of Libya.” The Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued the instruction to the state Civil Aviation Administration.

00:20 hours: “Embassy in Libya, please immediately make contact with Tripoli airport. Inform them that two charter flights will come to Libya tomorrow to fulfill tasks. Obtain flight permission as quickly as possible. Report as quickly as possible on the implementation of this matter.” The liaison team of the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued the instruction to our embassy in Libya.

00:30 hours: “Embassy in Mongolia, Embassy in Russia, Embassy in Kazakhstan, Embassy in Turkey... Please note: Tomorrow two charter flights will be sent from the homeland to Libya, passing through the country in which you are resident. Please obtain transit flight permission from the host country as quickly as possible.” The liaison team of the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued the instruction.

01:00 hours: “The Civil Aviation Administration reports: Two Air China charter aircraft are ready for takeoff, awaiting instructions from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and ready to take off at any time.”

01:50 hours: “Ambassador Wang Wangsheng in Libya reports: Staff were sent to Tripoli airport, but the airport is already in a chaotic state and normal landing is not possible. It is suggested to postpone our charter flights to Libya temporarily.”

Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun got a cold shiver when they saw this report. According to the action plan, the special action group should be divided into three groups, based on the current distribution of our staff in Libya. They should go to three places: first to northern Tripoli, second to the eastern port city of Benghazi, third to the southern desert area Sebha. If the local airport couldn't land, the special action group couldn't depart yet - the operation was already blocked before it had begun.

“What to do?” Guo Shaochun asked Huang Ping with his eyes.

“Let's wait a bit longer.” Huang Ping suppressed his anger. He knew that the difficulties would far from be just one or two. Calmness was a necessary quality for front commanders, he had to remain calm before the dozens of people in the Consular Protection Center. Guo Shaochun knew he had to do the same too.

“Have all group members been notified?” asked Huang Ping.

“All have been notified, tomorrow morning they'll come to the ministry to report,” answered Guo Shaochun.

On the early morning of the 23rd at 6:30 a.m., Huang Ping had just washed his face with cold water and opened his eyes when someone stood stock-still before him - it was Fei Mingxing, the leader of the special action group.

“You're quite early here! The task is clear?” The energetic Fei Mingxing nodded: “Yes.”

“Familiarize yourself immediately with the situation there and prepare to fly at 11 o'clock,” said Huang Ping, pointing to a pile of already prepared relevant materials on the table.

“Good.”

Fei Mingxing reported to me later that the day before, he had learned something about the situation in Libya while working at the ministry. When he had dinner with a friend in the evening, he still muttered that the ministry would probably send a working group to Libya to carry out tasks. But he never would have thought they would send him again.

“Actually I should have thought of it,” said Fei Mingxing. He said this with reason, because Fei Mingxing was a diplomat with three evacuation missions.

“In April 2000, there were riots in Honiara in the Solomon Islands. Local violent perpetrators looted Chinese shops. The lives of overseas Chinese were in extreme danger. Our country had no diplomatic relations with the Solomons, but Chinese citizens lived there, and protecting their lives and property was the state's responsibility. Therefore our government urgently asked the governments of Australia, New Zealand, and Papua New Guinea for help to protect our compatriots. At that time I was in the embassy in Australia and went to the Solomons as a member of the working group from the homeland. One thing is particularly memorable. A refugee woman who looked very Chinese ran up to me and pleaded for me to save her. Later, when I inquired, it turned out she wasn't a Chinese citizen, we couldn't take her with us. She became very angry, cursed and then said: 'If only I were Chinese!' During the riots in the Solomons, Chinatown was completely looted, devastation from arson was everywhere. We brought back a total of 310 compatriots in danger.”

Fei Mingxing had another evacuation experience - the coup in Tonga in 2006. At that time he was already an attaché at the embassy and supported the evacuation of 193 compatriots from the homeland.

“When considering sending me to Libya, the ministry certainly thought of my practical experience. At that time Guo Shaochun asked me if I could lead a group to Libya, I said no problem. All night my wife tossed and turned sleeplessly, but didn't say a word. Before dawn I quietly got up to pack my things. While I was shaving in the bathroom, I turned around and saw that my wife had also gotten up. With red eyes she searched for a plastic bag for the toothbrush. After over a decade of living together, she knew my work and knew what it meant. Although she didn't know where I was going, she knew this was again a life and death trial with uncertain outcome...”

A sentence had been circulating in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for decades, established by the then Premier and Foreign Minister Zhou Enlai: Chinese diplomats are “soldiers in civilian clothes.” In the early days of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, many high-ranking generals entered the diplomatic ranks, and Premier Zhou demanded they continue to maintain the excellent work style of revolutionary soldiers. For over 60 years, although the composition of Chinese diplomatic ranks has changed greatly, this tradition has been passed on from generation to generation.

Now Fei Mingxing and the others were to fight as “soldiers in civilian clothes” in that distant, war-torn foreign land! If they were fighting Liberation Army, each of them would have a weapon in hand. But as “soldiers in civilian clothes,” the diplomats couldn't carry weapons. They could only face the hail of bullets in battle with their bodies and blood and a heart loyal to the state.

What a heroic trial!

This is the special mission of diplomats!

Fei Mingxing and the members of his special action group solemnly accepted the life and death mission assigned by the state - to save tens of thousands of compatriots trapped in war chaos, they would go through fire, if necessary!

On the 23rd at 7:00 a.m., the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs received a report from our embassy in Turkey: Airspace permission for the special aircraft over this country had been granted. Thereafter, flight permissions for Mongolia, Russia, Kazakhstan and other countries were successively granted. Friendly countries were really helpful in critical moments!

At 7:30 a.m., the Ministry of Foreign Affairs obtained passports for the 21 members of the special action group.

At 8:00 a.m., Huang Ping convened a meeting of all members of the special action group who had gradually arrived, to explain the tasks. This was a solemn, serious, moving and heroic assembly. The young men setting out didn't know it, but Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun knew: Yang Jiechi had privately instructed Song Tao: The working group in Libya has a difficult task, full of dangers, one must be prepared for everything.

“What came after, the leadership didn't say, but we knew what was meant,” Huang Ping told me. According to the situation at that time, the ministry was prepared for the possibility that members of the working group might not return. The situation was so serious - in war there are casualties.

At 11:00 a.m. at the south gate of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The members of the special action group stood in three rows, the group leaders at the front. Deputy Minister Song Tao looked with hopeful eyes at these young but composed faces and held his departure speech:

“Comrades, this evacuation operation from Libya is unprecedented in the history of our diplomacy. Your responsibility is great, your mission is glorious! On your shoulders rests the trust of the People's Republic of China, in you rests the hope of over 30,000 families. Please bring the trapped compatriots back victoriously and unharmed! When you return, I will pick you up at the airport!”

“We guarantee to fulfill the task!” The answer was powerful as a mountain.

Just as the 21 team members were about to depart, Song Tao suddenly proposed he wanted to take a photo with each individual team member. The young team members cheered, because normally they didn't have many opportunities to be photographed individually with ministry leadership. Huang Ping, Guo Shaochun and other comrades from the Consular Department who observed the photographing got moist noses. Some female colleagues sensed something, either went away or turned around, because their eyes were already full of tears...

Flying to Tripoli

Tripoli, what kind of city is it? It's a city over 10,000 kilometers airline distance from China. Our civil aviation had only opened this flight route less than a month ago. The war fire had already turned this once picturesque Mediterranean city red.

Now the whole world was directing its gaze toward war-torn Tripoli. Gaddafi's regime stood before possible overthrow, which set the Western world, which had long been waiting for this, into jubilation. The self-satisfied madman Gaddafi sat on the volcano without noticing it, crazily shouted slogans and raised the butcher knife, ready to inflict bloody violence on all those who tried to overthrow his “dynasty.” Tripoli was news everywhere, watched by the whole world.

A few hours before China sent the special action group to Tripoli, Wang Xuhong and Hua Xingqing, political attachés of our embassy in Libya, went to Tripoli airport to check the situation. When they arrived there, they could hardly believe their eyes. The international airport that had been functioning just a few days ago now looked like a street market. Most airport staff had disappeared, even the armed police and soldiers maintaining order had lost control. Tens of thousands of refugees blocked the airport inside and out, plates and garbage lay everywhere. Shots, shouts, screams and desperate wails mixed together - it was like hell on earth.

The lives and dignity of refugees were arbitrarily trampled on. Again and again, shot or trampled corpses of refugees were simply tossed aside like garbage. Here humanity disappeared, here blood and tears flowed. Whoever left earlier could save their life.

Aircraft from the EU and dozens of other countries landed forcefully. On the out-of-control runway of the airport, refugees who had lost reason crowded. They tried regardless of circumstances to madly intercept one plane after another to somehow get on board and flee. Tripoli airport was completely in chaos, tragedies occurred constantly and could still intensify.

Now China's special action group had to get there, no matter what price it cost!

“You must postpone the start! Otherwise you can't land at Tripoli airport.” The warning from the front.

“We can't postpone anymore! You must start immediately!” The homeland pressed ever more urgently.

“Even if we start, what do we do if we can't land?” The front answered thus.

“Even if we can't land, we must start! From Beijing to Tripoli is over a dozen hours, let's fly first!” Order from the homeland.

“Takeoff!” On the afternoon of the 23rd at 5:48 p.m., a special aircraft took off with a roar from Beijing Airport into the clouds and flew to that hellishly chaotic city on the southern shore of the Mediterranean...

“When we boarded, besides the crew there were only 7 of us in the huge cabin. Right after boarding, I called the group members to a meeting. I said, we are now a combat group, we must stay united, then I announced the task distribution. I had Comrade Liu Xiang, who had already been in Libya, introduce the local situation,” said Fei Mingxing.

“One could see that all members who had accepted the urgent task were mentally full of energy, but also somewhat tense. I urged everyone to rest first, then I myself ran into the cockpit and asked the captain for the microphone to speak with the Consular Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. That was the first time in my life I telephoned from the plane using the pilot's phone. I strongly felt the particularity of this mission.”

“Please, where exactly are we flying to?” Fei Mingxing asked.

“We can't determine that yet,” said Guo Shaochun.

“What do we do then?”

“Wait for instructions.”

Fei Mingxing and the captain looked at each other. There was no other possibility - fly, fly west, and then see! This was a rare aviation mission. This was a combat mission.

Back in the cabin, Fei Mingxing saw that none of his comrades were sleeping.

“Why aren't you all sleeping?” Fei Mingxing was somewhat annoyed and wanted to question them thus, because maintaining good physical and mental condition was very important. The words came to his lips, but he didn't say them. The team members were either taking notes or thinking - he knew their hearts weren't calm. As group leader, Fei Mingxing's mood was even more tense and restless than that of the team members.

“Fei Mingxing, you're group leader. I must point out two things to you: First, if you encounter sudden situations on site and don't have time to consult with the homeland, you can decide yourself. Second, you don't need approval from the homeland - you can hire local security forces. How and when you hire them, you decide completely yourself according to the situation on site. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Fei Mingxing, I'm letting you lead this working group. I have only one requirement for you: You're the first special aircraft China is sending. You must penetrate to Libya in the shortest time. Now the situation is unclear, whether you enter Libya from Malta, Egypt or Greece can't yet be determined. You must maintain contact with the airline at all times and penetrate to Libya in the shortest time to report back the situation on site! Understood? At any cost report back the situation! Have you clearly understood?”

“Clearly understood!”

How could Fei Mingxing sleep! In his ears the words that Huang Ping and Guo Shaochun had “whispered in his ear” shortly before boarding echoed again and again. Each word was heavier than a thousand pounds and almost pressed the air out of Fei Mingxing. The pressure in his heart was unknown to outsiders, but was discovered by his son while watching television.

Shortly before departure, Fei Mingxing was interviewed by CCTV reporters at the capital airport. He said: “We know this mission is glorious and the responsibility is great. We will work hard with all our strength.”

Fei Mingxing's son was watching TV at home and said casually to his mother, who was doing housework: “Mom, Dad seems somewhat strange today.”

Mrs. Fei paused and asked: “What do you mean?”

The boy said: “I see, when he speaks, it's as if he's internally insecure.”

Mrs. Fei just smiled, said nothing, but only sighed meaningfully - this was a worry deeply hidden in the heart as wife of a diplomat.

Fei Mingxing in the air knew nothing of this scene at home. He worried most about whether their plane could “penetrate to Libya” and from where they would penetrate.

Director Huang Ping had repeatedly reminded him before departure with the word “penetrate,” which gave him great pressure. What did “penetrate” mean? Expose oneself to death to survive? Recklessly rush forward or break through obstacles to seize the initiative? It was permeated with a strong combat atmosphere - he couldn't help but be tense.

Fei Mingxing couldn't help but look out the airplane window. Except for endless darkness, nothing could be seen...

If only the sky were without borders! If only this world were without war! Then our planes could fly anywhere we wanted, wherever we wanted, and land anywhere we wanted to “penetrate.” The world would be one family, we live in the global village - when would the Great Harmony of the world be realized?

Tens of thousands of compatriots in Libya were every second on the border between life and death. Fei Mingxing felt for the first time in his 45 years fear and great responsibility! He was group leader, pathfinder, vanguard - in him rested the urgent hopes and expectations of all...

Fei Mingxing didn't dare to think further. He went once more to the captain in the cockpit.

“Just got a call from the ground, we should land at Athens airport,” the captain brought Fei Mingxing the good news.

“Great!” When Fei Mingxing communicated this news to the team members, the young men immediately became excited. They knew Athens was only separated from Libya by the Mediterranean.

As soon as the special aircraft had landed at Athens airport, Attaché Zheng Xiyuan boarded the plane and met with Fei Mingxing.

“When can we fly to Tripoli?” Fei Mingxing's full attention was on this point.

“I don't know. We can only wait for news from the Libyan side.” Zheng Xiyuan dealt Fei Mingxing a heavy blow.

“Can't it go faster?” Fei Mingxing spoke in a hard tone to the much more experienced Zheng Xiyuan.

“You'll have to ask Gaddafi that!” said Zheng Xiyuan.

In the distant abroad, tens of thousands of kilometers from the fatherland, these two compatriots from Sichuan lost their usual cordial manner in the face of the extremely serious mission and task. Fei Mingxing looked at Zheng Xiyuan helplessly and had to remain silent.

For the worried Fei Mingxing and the others, only one thing remained to do now: wait, wait for news from the Libyan side.

After over an hour, Zheng Xiyuan and the captain said almost simultaneously to Fei Mingxing: “Good, we can fly!”

“Buddy, when we're back, I'll treat you properly to dinner at a Sichuan restaurant!” Fei Mingxing embraced Zheng Xiyuan warmly.

Zheng Xiyuan patted Fei Mingxing's shoulder hard: “Take care of yourself.”

The special aircraft with China's first special evacuation group took off with a roar from Athens airport toward Tripoli on the other shore of the Mediterranean...

While I describe the movements of the first special action group, in reality over a dozen hours have already passed. Meanwhile, the situation in Libya constantly changed. On that day, television broadcast a 23-minute telephone interview with Gaddafi, in which he railed fiercely against his opposition and called them henchmen of Al-Qaeda.

“What's wrong with you? You henchmen of Bin Laden brainwash our children - isn't that clear? Therefore I will fight you mercilessly until I've completely annihilated you!” Gaddafi showed an attitude of fighting to the death. At the same time, at the main gate of the opposition camp in Benghazi, two machine guns fired continuously into the sky to show they weren't afraid of Gaddafi's threats at all.

On February 23, the situation in Libya entered a comprehensive stalemate war state. It was not yet foreseeable who was stronger - the government or the opposition. That was the most dangerous moment - for countless foreigners in Libya it was so, and for the Chinese government and the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which executed the concrete evacuation plan, it was likewise so.

“Now it's already the 24th! The second charter flight must take off!” After repeated consideration, Huang Ping, after consultation, issued a clear instruction to the Civil Aviation Administration at 2 a.m. on the 24th.

28 minutes later, the second special aircraft with the second and third special action groups for Benghazi and Sebha took off from Beijing Capital Airport, destination “unknown.” The captain received the instruction to first fly toward Dubai or Cairo and then see. At this point, all three action groups were in the air, waiting for the dispensation of unknown fate.

Oh Libya, you really cause one great worries!

“Tripoli, I'm Coming!”

What time is it now? Local time, shortly after midnight on the 24th.

Who was now most worried? The eastern Libyan front command of China State Construction. On the shore of Benghazi, at least 5,000-6,000 people were still waiting without prospect. They were waiting for the cruise ships that should advance from behind to appear on the sea horizon... Thunderstorms and bullets attacked them simultaneously, every moment their lives hung by a thread. They couldn't help but be worried.

In the east, our embassy in Egypt was also worried. Already over 800 compatriots who had crossed the Libyan border were now waiting at the airport in the port of Alexandria for planes from the domestic civil aviation to pick them up. But the transit permits for several transit countries were still pending. The Egyptian government had already shown great accommodation. Originally it had been agreed that Chinese evacuees would be brought directly from the border to the airport and then board Chinese planes directly, without lingering in Egypt. If this continued and China's own planes didn't come in time, it meant Chinese evacuees would have to stay in Egypt for a long time - the problem would change. That would be a “diplomatic incident” - how to deal with it?

“In Egypt it's not quite calm yet during the day, at night there are curfews. Over a thousand of our people on foreign territory - that's not easy to handle!” Our embassy in Egypt couldn't help but complain.

In the west, our embassy in Tunisia was also worried. There too, already over 1,000 people from Libya had assembled, and the homeward flights were still pending. It was estimated that the next day three to four thousand compatriots would cross from the Libyan border crossing Ras Jedir to Tunisia.

“The small border airport in Tunisia can normally only handle one or two flights with two to three hundred passengers. If we suddenly have three to four thousand or even more people there and the planes from the homeland come a day later, the pressure for us is too great!” reported our embassy in Tunisia.

The south Libyan front command was even more worried. Up to now, for their five to six thousand people, the only evacuation route was the air route. If no planes came from the sky, they would be stuck at the site of the final battle between Gaddafi's troops and the armed opposition forces - the prospects were unimaginable...

But most worried was still Ambassador Wang Wangsheng of our embassy in Libya, which was stuck in the most severe crisis in the Libyan capital Tripoli.

“We must clarify the situation with all Chinese institutions and Chinese staff in Libya, also call on them for timely evacuation, have them gather near evacuation points, arrange when they leave, how many at once, etc. Now at Tripoli airport alone several hundred men and women, young and old are stranded, who have already held out there for three days and nights without food and drink. If they don't leave soon, there will be big problems!”

“When will the charter flights finally arrive?” Ambassador Wang Wangsheng had his people ask the homeland dozens of times, and he himself asked at least as often.

“Soon! It'll be soon!” Guo Shaochun and the others in the homeland answered thus each time.

The front cursed the Consular Protection Center in the homeland.

“Who should I curse?” Huang Ping frowned and said quite helplessly to Guo Shaochun.

Everything the front needed was also what the homeland was organizing and working on with full force. The Civil Aviation Administration, SASAC, the Ministry of Commerce... all were coordinating with full force. But what Huang Ping and the others needed most now was command authority at the front. Over a hundred evacuation units, tens of thousands of persons to be evacuated, distributed over an area of several hundred square kilometers. They had never before had close connections and coordination with each other, communication had completely collapsed, the situation became more tense day by day. Western countries pressed step by step, they wanted to play a “finish” with Gaddafi...

Under these circumstances, the Consular Protection Center of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which bore the state evacuation task, was even more urgent than someone with burning eyebrows!

“Burning eyebrows are nothing - buddies and female colleagues will soon have body and soul burned!” said the three deputy directors Tang Li, Zhang Yang and Zhu Jiayao.

“Whether the battle can be won depends for the commander on whether he understands and grasps the entire war situation in his heart. Only when one knows the situation can one command correctly and achieve victory in battle.” What worried Huang Ping most now was that he knew very little about the situation in Libya!

Disturbed communication was the main problem. The sporadically and fragmentarily reported information had to be analyzed and filtered, moreover there was much repetitive information from different sources with large deviations. All this directly influenced the overall command and organization of the domestic Consular Protection Center. Therefore, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Huang Ping, Guo Shaochun and the others regarded sending working groups to the front as particularly important - in fact, this was also the most decisive step in the entire evacuation operation.

But the two charter flights flying to Libya and the three special action groups were all still hovering in the air...

“Captain Ji, you're almost there, right?” Around 6 a.m. Beijing time on the 24th, Guo Shaochun spoke once more directly with Captain Ji Xueyong of flight CCA060.

“In about 2 hours we can arrive,” Ji Xueyong answered.

The China Air special aircraft CCA060 was now over the Mediterranean. Over an hour later, the dive from ten thousand meters altitude began... The southern coast of the Mediterranean was already outlined on the flight instrument.

“Report: The outside temperature is now minus 23 degrees Celsius, wind speed at Tripoli airport is 70 kilometers per hour, it's raining heavily...” A wind speed of 70 kilometers per hour corresponds to wind force 8 - normally that's a dangerous wind speed for landings.

Ji Xueyong looked at the instruments, threw a glance out of the cabin, then held the control stick firmly again.

“The landing time the ground gives us is limited. Now we prepare for emergency landing...” He gave the crew the instruction calmly.

The CCA060 special aircraft aimed at the runway and began the dive against the wind...

“Not good! On the runway ahead of us is a large moving object!” Ji Xueyong called out in alarm, the eyes of the crew members involuntarily directed toward the runway. Indeed - a rectangular object was rolling with the wind and moving toward the runway the special aircraft was heading for, moving...

Ji Xueyong gripped the control stick tightly, the gliding machine turned slightly and carefully avoided the moving object.

“It's a container.”

Such luck! Ji Xueyong wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked outside - so this was Tripoli? Outside it was pitch dark, there was no ground personnel for reception, no communication signal. Ji Xueyong took out the Libyan mobile phone prepared in the homeland to contact the Chinese embassy - he couldn't get through at all.

“We're going down!” Fei Mingxing and the others took action! Flight attendant Zhang Qifeng helped them open the cabin door. Suddenly a violent wind blew Fei Mingxing and the others into disarray. Tripoli had given the young men of the Chinese special action group a setback. Fortunately it wasn't machine gun bullets, but storm and rain.

Fei Mingxing straightened up and stepped to the cabin door again. Why was no one coming to take care of them? he wondered. According to international convention, as soon as a plane lands at an airport and the cabin door opens, ground personnel should connect the gangway to the plane, and staff should come to check the number of people.

Did Tripoli airport make an exception and not follow these procedures?

“Bang! Bang bang bang!” Suddenly some thin light beams flashed in the dark rainy night not far away.

“Are those shots?” someone asked. All people in the plane pricked up their ears.

Someone answered: “Probably.”

So this was Tripoli. Ah, Tripoli, we're here - China's government evacuation group is here!

Fei Mingxing's and the other young men's hearts became firm all at once.

“If no one takes care of us, we'll go down ourselves!” Fei Mingxing couldn't wait any longer to fulfill his duty as front commander.

“I'll go down first with Liu Xiang,” Li Yin asked. He was deputy department head of the authentication department of the Consular Department, naturally a capable comrade of Fei Mingxing in this group.

“Okay, first go to the arrival hall and look around, find our people as quickly as possible,” Fei Mingxing agreed and asked them to take a satellite phone.

“Report to the director, we have already arrived at the destination.” Fei Mingxing saw Li Yin and Liu Xiang disembark, but was internally extremely worried. He turned around, opened another satellite phone and called the homeland from the cabin entrance. Beijing time was now exactly 8 a.m. on the 24th, local time in Tripoli should be around 2 a.m.

“Great! Your tasks are first, immediately make contact with Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the others, second, bring the over 200 compatriots stranded at the airport onto the plane...” Huang Ping, who had been full of worry for two days, immediately became excited when he received Fei Mingxing's call. Now the homeland could finally understand the situation on site in time and directly command the evacuation.

Li Yin and Liu Xiang carried the heavy satellite phone directly to the arrival hall. When they saw the situation, they were speechless. The hall was overcrowded, extremely chaotic. All kinds of people were waiting for a flight, but the airport staff had disappeared, only armed police and soldiers maintained order there. The compatriots who wanted to flee from this place didn't care at all about the police blockade and constantly tried to madly storm into the airport. Such behavior led to waves of frightening angry curses and “bang bang” warning shots.

They didn't dare to stay in the arrival hall and wanted to go outside to try their luck and see if they could rent a car to drive to the embassy. When departing from the homeland, Li Yin and the others had learned that our embassy in Libya was only ten to twenty minutes by car from Tripoli airport.

“Are you the working group from the homeland?” asked a hasty Chinese when Li Yin and Liu Xiang looked around.

“Yes, you are...”

“I'm Wang Xuhong, political attaché of the embassy.”

“Oh, that's you, Lao Wang! We were really worried, we couldn't reach you for a long time!” Li Yin embraced Wang Xuhong.

“Our people who came with us haven't gotten off the plane yet!”

When Wang Xuhong heard this, he said: “Then I'll first go in and get them out.”

What Wang Xuhong normally would have accomplished in a few minutes took over an hour this time. This made Fei Mingxing and the others wait almost two hours in the plane.

“Where are our people? I'll go see them.” When Fei Mingxing arrived at the arrival hall, the first thing he wanted was to see his compatriots - he knew they had already been waiting at the airport for three days and nights.

“At this cursed place, after one day you're annoyed, after two days you stink, after three days you want to hang yourself, but you can't find a place!” Wang Xuhong pointed to the densely packed arrival hall and said to Fei Mingxing and his group.

The embassy had been trying since the 21st to get a group of compatriots out, but it just didn't work. Now at the airport two to three hundred people were waiting, most of them women and children.

“Take me to the airport people, I want to talk to them and immediately get our compatriots away from here.” Fei Mingxing suggested.

“We can try.” Wang Xuhong said he had come here almost daily in recent days to speak with the airport people, hoping they would allow the Chinese to exit, but not a single time had he been successful.

Fei Mingxing didn't understand Arabic. When he saw that Wang Xuhong had talked for a long time with the airport administration people without success, he pulled Wang Xuhong aside and said: “You translate, I'll try.”

So Fei Mingxing went to an official-looking Libyan and said: “I've been sent here by the Chinese government to pick up people. I hope you can help us.”

The Libyan just shook his head and didn't agree.

Fei Mingxing continued: “We're picking up our people because it concerns their safety. We're only doing this because unrest has broken out in your country.”

To win the other party's favor, Fei Mingxing invented a story. He said when people in his homeland Sichuan talk about Africa, they say Africa is China's friend.

“Since we Chinese and you are friends, friends should help friends. Let our people board our plane.”

The “friend” seemed to become somewhat friendlier, but insisted that the airport was already under control and all planes were no longer allowed to fly.

The Libyan side was very determined. When they saw that Fei Mingxing was carrying a camera on his shoulder, they waved energetically, snatched it from him with one grip and said: “That won't do!”

“That's not allowed!”

Reluctantly, Fei Mingxing had to follow a Libyan empty-handed to a side of the airport arrival hall. In a rather remote corner, Fei Mingxing saw Chinese women and children lying all over the floor in disarray as well as some elderly Chinese men.

Fei Mingxing's appearance triggered a wave of excitement among them.

“Dear compatriots, you've had it hard!” he called.

But Fei Mingxing's opening words made the scene instantly break out in tears, many women even somewhat lost control of their emotions.

“Everyone listen to me, listen to me! I'm the leader of the working group sent from the homeland. I bring you greetings from the Party, the government and the entire Chinese people! Your relatives are waiting at home for you. We've also brought a charter flight that came especially to bring you home!”

The wails on site instantly transformed into applause and cheers.

“Are we leaving right now?”

“We're leaving!”

“No rush! Please everyone no rush!” said Fei Mingxing, while suddenly beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “When exactly the plane departs, our embassy is currently coordinating with the airport. Please believe you'll be able to return home very soon!”

Again thunderous jubilation like thunder.

“Go! You must go now!” Some Libyans became angry at Fei Mingxing and pulled and dragged him out to the arrival hall where he had been before.

“Before we drive to the embassy, hand over the airport matters to me!” There Fei Mingxing met Wang Xuhong, Li Yin, Liu Xiang and the other six team members who had arrived with him on the same plane.

“Hand over the airport matters to us! You drive to the embassy,” said Wang Xuhong when he noticed Fei Mingxing's concern.

The way to the embassy wasn't particularly far, but when Fei Mingxing and his people looked at Wang Xuhong's small car, they knew immediately this drive definitely wouldn't be easy. The rear window of Wang Xuhong's car had already been shot through by bullets, the doors on both sides were obviously demolished with hard objects. When one then looked at the street outside the airport: One group after another of Libyan soldiers, all heavily armed, their eyes vigilantly observing every passerby.

“They're afraid opposition people will sneak into Tripoli, also afraid of foreign spies and special units here. Therefore we must be careful in our actions and try to appear as open and honest as possible,” said Wang Xuhong.

“We're actually coming completely openly and honestly to pick up our own compatriots.” The members of the working group squeezed reluctantly and helplessly into Wang Canyu's small car and the vehicle sent by the Huawei company. On the way they encountered one group after another of Gaddafi's troops coming toward them. Fei Mingxing and the team members really felt to the full the terrible war atmosphere.

“When we came to the embassy, it had already become light. Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the embassy colleagues had prepared hot soup and hot food for us. They tried to appear as relaxed as possible, but my heart ached - their faces were all gloomy and looked terrible!” Fei Mingxing told me in the interview.

Although Fei Mingxing could imagine how Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the staff of the embassy in Libya had spent the past week, even the richest imaginations and assumptions would have been pale and hollow before the cruel and merciless reality if one hadn't experienced it oneself. In the face of one uncertain and life-threatening day after another and the extraordinarily terrible sleepless nights, each such experience was deeply formative and unforgettable for a lifetime for every individual or every group!

Wang Wangsheng and the embassy staff had experienced almost all dangers and difficulties Chinese diplomats abroad can encounter in the past week. With the support of Western forces, the opposition forces had rapidly strengthened. At this moment, the diplomatic baseline pursued by China to respect the sovereign government was put to the hardest test. This was Wang Wangsheng's most agonizing and helpless moment: When the entire situation in Libya became increasingly turbulent and the ruling government stood on a knife's edge, one still had to negotiate with it and publicly take a position.

Behind the unrest in Libya was a tremendous invisible hand - that was the Western world, represented by the USA and France. The predatory attack by the USA on the Chinese embassy during the Yugoslavia incident is still clearly in our memory today. Wang Wangsheng and his embassy colleagues couldn't have forgotten this rare tragic scene in the history of Chinese diplomacy.

“No, we really didn't feel particularly frightened or tense. We always followed instructions from the homeland and stayed in the embassy the whole time,” said Wang Wangsheng.

He was only a little over a dozen months away from retirement, soon he would have to say goodbye forever from his lifelong diplomatic post. Before the interview with him, I had imagined this ambassador would certainly unload countless complaints on me. But to my surprise, I didn't hear a single word of complaint from him.

Before and after the evacuation from Libya, there were quite a few critical voices in the homeland against him and the embassy, for example, that they hadn't accurately assessed and predicted the situation in Libya beforehand, knew too little about Chinese enterprises in Libya and Chinese personnel, and so on.

Wang Wangsheng smiled very serenely after these words and said, already since the beginning of the unrest in Tunisia they had been vigilant and mobilized. At that time they had already reported to the homeland their assessment of this region: The rulers had long practiced dictatorship, the demands of the lower population were not reasonably solved - sooner or later national unrest would break out. These opinions and information later played an active role in handling our country's diplomatic affairs in the Middle East region and North Africa.

Regarding Chinese enterprises in Libya and Chinese personnel, there were indeed large discrepancies between the information known to the embassy and reality. This was also later an outstanding problem that considerably increased the difficulties in evacuation work.

“After China's opening to the outside world, especially in recent years, domestic enterprises and normal citizens have undertaken significantly greater activities than before regarding 'going abroad,' also the ways there have become extremely diverse. For example, Chinese companies came to Libya in various ways: Some came through direct bidding, some by riding along with foreign firms, some even through subcontracting via third or fourth countries. This led to our official estimates of the number of people in Libya deviating considerably from the actual number. When the situation in Libya became turbulent, Chinese enterprises and Chinese personnel sought out our embassy, all hoped the embassy would help them solve difficulties. The embassy staff did their best and helped in need and danger. We have a clear conscience and have conscientiously fulfilled the duties entrusted to us by the state,” said Ambassador Wang Wangsheng.

In Ambassador Wang Wangsheng was embodied a valuable spirit and valuable attitude: At no time did one hear from him impatience, complaints, emotionality or exaggerations - solid and steady, always calm, wise and generous... Isn't this exactly the quality of a professional diplomat and the typical image of a state ambassador?

I heard many moving stories about Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the embassy staff before and after the great evacuation.

When the state notified a certain Chinese enterprise after the decision to evacuate, the other side rejected the evacuation order. The reason was that their enterprise had undertaken construction projects in Libya worth over a billion yuan and the projects were already shortly before completion.

“If we leave now, our losses are much too great!” said the company boss.

“The evacuation is a state order. Under your leadership work over 1,000 people, their lives are more important,” said Wang Wangsheng.

“The lives of people are indeed important, but I must defend national interests!” the company boss answered with firm attitude, as if only he were the protector of national interests.

“You must believe: As long as Libya's sovereignty exists, as long as our embassy is here, we will never give up China's interests in Libya,” Wang Wangsheng replied.

“Then I follow your order, we agree to the evacuation!” this company boss finally agreed.

The next day, someone from the company came to the embassy and sought out Ambassador Wang Wangsheng. They said oral promises alone weren't enough, the embassy must also give their company backing. Their project construction site would be abandoned by all people, all equipment and items would have no one to care for them anymore. They asked the embassy to get in touch with local militias or tribal elders and try to have them help protect their company's project construction site, so they could return and complete the project after Libya stabilized.

“No problem, don't worry about the evacuation,” Wang Wangsheng immediately promised.

Later Ambassador Wang Wangsheng repeatedly sent military attachés and envoys under life danger through war zones shaken by constant artillery fire to negotiate with local tribal elders and ask them to guard Chinese companies' construction sites and sign corresponding agreements.

Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the embassy did such things countless times. Just imagine: When one Chinese company after another recalled their evacuees in large numbers from the construction sites while escaping looters and dodging bullets and grenades, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the embassy staff went in the opposite direction to the evacuating persons, to negotiate at those most dangerous construction sites with armed forces or tribal elders and ask them to act to protect the interests of Chinese companies.

What kind of spirit was that? How many such things Ambassador Wang Wangsheng himself did, he himself can't say exactly, the embassy also didn't record it. They only told me one sentence: “These are all duties of the embassy.”

I know these duties must be fulfilled with one's own life.

That group of people stranded in Tripoli consisted mainly of women and children, including over a dozen young women - the previously mentioned female students. At the critical moment when they were attacked by looters, embassy staff bravely came to their rescue. When they decided to evacuate, the school insisted on the position: “Whoever leaves gives up their study place.” For this, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng negotiated several times with the school until they finally agreed that our female students could evacuate and keep their study place.

In Tripoli, besides Chinese enterprises, there was a group of Chinese investors who had come as private individuals - most operated restaurants or travel agencies. After the evacuation order came, these people didn't want to leave. They worried their small businesses would go down the drain, or they had a wait-and-see gambler mentality and behaved passively toward evacuation.

Ambassador Wang Wangsheng had to send people to do persuasion work. If it didn't work once, then twice. If they really couldn't be mobilized, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng had to appear personally.

“There's war, where should your business come from?” Wang Wangsheng said to the Chinese small entrepreneurs.

“If one can't earn money, one can't just go with empty hands and completely ruined,” the small entrepreneurs replied.

“What's more important - your life or your money?”

“Both are important. But I invested, and it's now going down the drain. People can still at least stay alive with effort and exertion.”

“Whether people can stay alive can't be said today. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow - can you guarantee you'll stay alive?”

“What's the point, you, Ambassador Wang, are also staying here?”

Ambassador Wang Wangsheng could only smile bitterly: “I represent the state. As long as the government doesn't give an order to withdraw the embassy, I must stay here as long as there are people in the embassy. You're different. Your money and your life belong to yourself.”

The small entrepreneurs began to feel respectful awe toward the ambassador: “Then... we'll go together with you!”

Wang Wangsheng smiled again: “I'm ambassador. Even if all Libyan border crossings and customs stations are completely closed, they'll still let me out. You're different - then you can't get out anymore.”

The small entrepreneur thought it over and said: “That's right, then I'll follow your advice. We'll evacuate!”

Ambassador Wang and the embassy had to during the evacuation from Libya not only command and coordinate thousands of people in the large state enterprises, but also had to work with the scattered individual entrepreneurs and freely living Chinese citizens who suddenly appeared from somewhere.

The first group to be evacuated from Tripoli was originally planned for the 21st and 22nd, but couldn't get planes. Later the homeland decided to send charter flights directly for pickup. But the Libyan aviation authority was in chaos, one couldn't even find people. Obtaining entry and exit permission for Chinese aircraft posed great difficulties for Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and the others.

Finally, with great difficulty through detours, they found Libyan officials, but these said: “You Chinese are friends with us, why do you want to evacuate then?”

Wang Wangsheng and the others said: “It's become chaotic with you, it's not safe anymore.”

The people said completely carelessly: “It won't become chaotic, the bullets won't hit Chinese friends.”

The man had hardly said this when from somewhere a bullet shot away his chin, blood streamed. Wang Wangsheng and the others received the entry and exit permission for Chinese aircraft at Tripoli airport - it smelled of blood and gunpowder smoke...

An ambassador in wartime has it hardest of all.

On the 23rd, after Ambassador Wang Wangsheng heard that the planes sent from the homeland had already taken off from Beijing, together with the embassy staff he counted the first group of stranded Chinese persons at the airport who should return home to determine how many could fit in the plane and depart.

Just on that day in the early morning hours, when Ambassador Wang hadn't yet gotten up, embassy staff saw in the fog a completely disheveled and bedraggled Chinese swaying toward the embassy. He wore only a short-sleeved shirt on his body and held a plastic bag in his hand. He said he worked in a Japanese company, the boss wouldn't let him go, therefore they didn't even give him his salary for the homeward journey. His camera had also been confiscated, they had only given him a bottle of mineral water and bread.

“I walked four days and four nights. I want to go home. I thought, only if I find our Chinese embassy can I come home...” This Mr. Huang had only been in Libya for just over ten days, didn't know his way around at all. He said he had his love of photography to thank for managing it.

“On the day I drove from the embassy to the Japanese company after authentication, I took many photos along the way. When I was fleeing desperately for my life this time, I oriented myself exactly by the street signs and street scenes in these photos.”

Mr. Huang pulled some photos trembling out of the plastic bag - these had been his lifeline and his last straw.

“You're my lifesavers!” To accommodate the severely tested and suffering Mr. Huang, the embassy made an exception: When the first and only charter flight coming directly to Libya for evacuation took off, he was allowed to leave Tripoli together with other 222 Chinese women and children.

“Goodbye, Tripoli!” “Farewell, war-shaken Libya!”

Beijing time February 24, 1:30 p.m. (corresponding to local time around 7:30 a.m. on the 24th), an announcement suddenly sounded at Tripoli airport: “Please Chinese passengers, proceed immediately to boarding.”

The over 200 Chinese women, children and some elderly men who had already been waiting for three days and three nights in the arrival hall were deeply moved and had tears in their eyes. They hastily packed their hand luggage and went to the exit gate.

“The Chinese are leaving!” “The Chinese have such luck!”

In the hall packed into a dense knot of tens of thousands of people, there was again no small unrest. Compatriots from various countries watched with extremely envious glances as the Chinese left the death zone...

25 minutes later, flight CCA060 took off into a moment of temporarily clear sky and flew eastward toward the great eastern power.

“Dear compatriots, good day! Welcome aboard the Air China charter flight. I am Captain Ji Xueyong. Now I would like on behalf of the entire crew to congratulate you - on the victorious homecoming! We hope this Air China flight can convey to you the warmth of the fatherland. We wish you a pleasant and happy journey!”

Hardly had Captain Ji Xueyong said these words over the onboard loudspeakers in the cabin when a sea of cheers broke out in the cabin.

“We're going home!” “Thank you, Air China!” “Long live the fatherland!”

At this moment, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng on the ground said to Fei Mingxing: “Report to the homeland: The CCA060 charter flight has taken off from Tripoli with 223 compatriots...”

“Director Huang! I'm Fei Mingxing, now I report...”

At the Libyan-Tunisian Border, a Mass Spectacle with Tens of Thousands Unfolded...

“Fei Mingxing, oh Fei Mingxing! What did the ministry send you with your group to the frontline for? At the Libyan-Tunisian border, over ten thousand compatriots are now stuck and can't get out, and you have the audacity to close your eyes and sleep comfortably? Get up! Depart immediately!”

Fei Mingxing woke up in a cold sweat and jumped up from the floor.

“Director Huang, I wasn't sleeping! Director Guo, I really wasn't sleeping!” Fei Mingxing opened his eyes wide and searched everywhere for Director Huang Ping and Deputy Director Guo Shaochun... Where were the people? They weren't with me at all!

Fei Mingxing rubbed his eyes and understood he had been dreaming.

“Fei Mingxing! Fei Mingxing! Report! Report!” From the satellite phone came actually Director Huang Ping's voice!

“Director Huang, what instructions do you have?” Fei Mingxing urgently asked for instructions from the homeland via satellite phone.

“Where are you now?” asked Huang Ping.

“In the embassy.”

While Fei Mingxing was on the phone, he saw the team members next to him lying on the floor as if they hadn't slept for years, and kicked them awake one by one with his foot.

“The Libyan-Tunisian border and Misrata are both very tense. Your small group takes full responsibility for these two evacuation fronts. If something happens, I'll hold you accountable!” Huang Ping's tone was very harsh, harsh like that of General Patton.

He paused briefly and quickly changed his tone: “But you must also come back safely! Bring all your group members back safely! No matter to whom something happens, I won't spare you!”

When Fei Mingxing heard these words, he felt both oppressed and warm inside.

After Fei Mingxing and the others arrived in Tripoli, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng didn't allow them to immediately go to the front, so they were forced to wait for a practicable notification from the embassy.

“We also only dozed for an hour or two, and already the urgent instruction from the homeland has woken us all up!” Li Yin hadn't actually slept at all. He secretly sent via QQ the above sentence to colleagues in the Consular Protection Center in the homeland.

On that day, Fei Mingxing was worried to death. He wanted to go out and look at the situation on the streets of Tripoli, but Ambassador Wang Wangsheng wouldn't let him go and said outside it was very chaotic. If he absolutely wanted to go out, he'd have to ride in his car. But his car was busy together with him, contacting the various Chinese enterprises on site, the Libyan government and relevant persons - a thousand complicated matters - so there was absolutely no free time for Fei Mingxing and the others.

In the afternoon, Fei Mingxing actively made contact with the Chinese provisional front commands in the east in Benghazi, in the center in Misrata and in the south in Sebha and learned that the situation in central Misrata was quite tense, and wanted to go there that very night.

“There's war there, I must be responsible for your lives! Moreover, our military attaché is there and taking care of current matters there on site.”

Wang Wangsheng didn't give in.

“We didn't come here to do nothing!” The temperamental Fei Mingxing couldn't bear such fetters.

“We'll do it this way: Tonight you first go to the military attaché and stay there overnight. Wait for my notification to depart,” Ambassador Wang Wangsheng considered for a moment and said that.

That night, although Fei Mingxing and the team members had accommodation, they were every second full of burning worry and impatience. Finally morning came with difficulty, but the embassy still hadn't issued permission for their departure.

“This won't do, we must act now! We're the working group sent from the homeland and must be responsible for the entire evacuation situation.”

After Fei Mingxing obtained instructions from the homeland and Wang Wangsheng's consent, he decided to divide the small group into three parts: He himself would go with the Arabic-speaking Zong Yu, Lin Xianxing from the Ministry of Public Security from the Entry and Exit Administration Department, and Li Qingsheng from the embassy to the Libyan-Tunisian border to open the evacuation corridor there for tens of thousands of people.

Then Li Yin and Guo Hu from the Ministry of Commerce would be sent to Misrata. The remaining team members would stay at the embassy and help with coordination and communication.

Everyone was clear in their hearts: The two small groups going to the Libyan-Tunisian border and to Misrata were practically plunging into certain death. These two routes had been in complete chaos since the 23rd. At that time, both Gaddafi and the opposition wanted to gain control over Homs and Zawiya, which posed a direct threat to the capital Tripoli. These two cities and their surroundings were areas that Fei Mingxing's two small groups absolutely had to traverse - this journey was full of dangers and misfortune.

Before departure, Fei Mingxing ordered the members of the small groups to fully equip themselves with all the equipment brought from the homeland - bulletproof vests, helmets, batons... The young diplomats who had never been soldiers found this quite novel and felt they now really had the appearance of real soldiers.

“No, you mustn't wear helmets. If you wear them, the people there won't know which side you belong to and might shoot at you first,” Ambassador Wang Wangsheng recommended not wearing helmets.

“The batons are also too conspicuous. If you carry them with you, the other side might get the feeling you intend to attack them. Better not take them along either,” Ambassador Wang Wangsheng continued.

“Bulletproof vests are best worn inside on the body, don't show them outside.”

The young men who had just been completely fully equipped were totally “disarmed” by Ambassador Wang Wangsheng and were somewhat discouraged.

“But this way it's safer.”

Everyone finally found Ambassador Wang Wangsheng's suggestion was correct: Since we came here for humanity and peace, we should make exactly that understandable to the fiercely fighting two sides and best appear in civilian and peaceful manner.

Fei Mingxing took out the two national flags brought from the homeland, kept one himself and gave Li Yin the other.

“In critical moments, it's more important than anything else,” he said.

The first special action group was to divide and depart! As group leader, Fei Mingxing's facial expression became extraordinarily serious and heavy. He looked at his team colleagues who had come from the same plane - their facial expressions were also extraordinarily serious and heavy.

“Comrades, now I'll say a few words... It's as I said on the plane: If we few depart but can no longer return home, but 20,000 to 30,000 compatriots can come home safely, then we have nothing to regret. Because fatherland and people will remember us forever. Please think of our task!”

Fei Mingxing held with brief words a mobilization speech before battle.

“Let's all seven take a photo together! So that later not...” someone suggested, but everyone looked at each other - no one agreed.

The group photo wasn't taken. They only embraced each other - these were wordless embraces of life and death, embraces of farewell!

“Depart!” Fei Mingxing led his team to the cars. His small group departed first, four cars in total, of which two were escort vehicles from Chinese companies. Fei Mingxing had hired two Libyan drivers. They knew the road conditions relatively well and could also respond to sudden incidents along the way.

At the moment the cars drove off, suddenly successive tremendous explosions sounded in the city of Tripoli - obviously triggered by the opposition. The government troops immediately shot back aimlessly, whereupon shots sounded everywhere in one piece...

“We're taking a detour,” said Fei Mingxing, sitting in the passenger seat, to the Libyan driver.

From Tripoli to the Libyan border crossing to Tunisia at Ras Jedir, the distance wasn't far, barely 300 kilometers. In between one had to pass through Zawiya, Sabratha and Zuwarah. These three cities were the main frontlines of the opposition to attack the capital Tripoli from the western line after they had brought Benghazi under control.

Gaddafi naturally knew: After the east with Benghazi had gotten out of control, he had practically lost his left arm. If these cities on the western line were also lost, it would be as if his right arm were also chopped off.

Therefore from the 24th, the battles for Zawiya, Sabratha and Zuwarah reached a peak of white-hot intensity. And from this route also most refugees fled to Tunisia. After the Libyan-Egyptian border in the east had been closed, the Libyan-Tunisian border in the west became the only land route by which one could evacuate. Hundreds of thousands of refugees from various countries streamed to the border crossing Ras Jedir, whereby this small border crossing practically fell into a state of paralysis.

The reason for this was besides the fact that it couldn't process so many people for exit at once, mainly that most customs officials of the border crossing were foreign employees who had long since fled. Only a few Libyan employees and many military police held watch there. The chaos at the border crossing was imaginable, yet over 10,000 Chinese citizens wanted to get out from there!

The situation was extremely serious. The greatest concern of the domestic Consular Protection Center was that these over ten thousand compatriots were stuck at this place in no man's land of the desert between east and west - the consequences would be unimaginable!

This tremendous burden like Mount Tai now lay on the shoulders of Fei Mingxing and the others.

The small group had only left Tripoli about ten kilometers behind when suddenly a group of armed soldiers appeared in the middle of the main road, waving from afar.

“These seem to be Gaddafi's troops. Drive over,” Fei Mingxing ordered the driver quietly.

But the driver made a movement completely opposite to Fei Mingxing's order - he suddenly braked sharply.

“Why?” Fei Mingxing's heart instantly jumped into his throat.

“I don't dare to drive over. They'll take us for people sent from Benghazi...” The driver was already trembling with fear.

“Don't you think you're even more easily suspected by them this way?” Fei Mingxing found the driver had a problem with his thinking.

“No, I don't dare.” The driver insisted.

Fei Mingxing had no choice and got out of the car with his teammate Zong Yu. He thought this might actually be good - so the soldiers ahead could see they were Chinese.

“Chinese, where are you going? What are you doing?” As Fei Mingxing walked forward, the armed soldiers called from afar and signaled Fei Mingxing and the others to raise their hands above their heads.

“We're diplomatic staff sent by the Chinese government and are going to the border crossing Ras Jedir to help our people evacuate.” Fei Mingxing spoke and had Zong Yu translate while showing his passport.

The soldiers didn't let up their vigilance, the gun muzzles were aimed at Fei Mingxing and the others the whole time. After checking the identity, they conducted a body search. Fei Mingxing was very clever: When he left the car, he had deliberately hidden his mobile phone under the seat in a not easily found corner, but Zong Yu's mobile phone was confiscated.

Zong Yu became somewhat nervous: “I need that!”

Fei Mingxing quickly gave him signs with his eyes: Let them take it.

The first checkpoint didn't abuse Fei Mingxing and the others further, but they lost three mobile phones and a camera.

That was also life-threatening enough - whether for the small group or the accompanying staff of Chinese companies, without mobile phones they were practically deaf.

Most conspicuous was the satellite phone. The Libyan soldiers had never seen such a machine gun-like device and absolutely wanted to confiscate it. Fei Mingxing insisted stubbornly: “We've been sent here by the Chinese government to evacuate our compatriots. Without this device we can't make contact with the homeland and also can't get in touch in time with the responsible agencies of your government via our embassy.”

After Fei Mingxing's words, the soldiers found there was certain logic, but their eyes fixed on the boxes of loaded items in the car.

Fei Mingxing understood immediately: “Carry it out! Let them carry out a few boxes!”

So that was the first checkpoint. But already after this first checkpoint, the two Libyan drivers who were driving for Fei Mingxing began to grumble incessantly and said they didn't dare to drive on the main road anymore. Fei Mingxing also saw that while the soldiers controlled the few Chinese, they aimed their rifles directly at the heads of the two Libyan drivers and questioned them nonstop - the tone was like interrogating spies.

Fei Mingxing considered for a moment and found the drivers' words also made sense - a detour would perhaps mean fewer checkpoints. So the four cars avoided the main road and were led by the drivers, sometimes driving through villages and desert wasteland, sometimes over remote side roads of cities. The small group didn't know these places were also battlefields where opposition militias and local paramilitary units fought each other.

“Lie down! Lie down!” “We're Chinese diplomats!” “I said: Lie down!” “Listen to how we explain to you...” “Shut up! Shut up!”

At an intersection in a small town, a group of paramilitary armed men saw Fei Mingxing's vehicle column approaching and came forward without distinguishing right from wrong, dragged all people out of the cars and then ordered them with guns to raise their hands one by one and lie face down on the ground.

When Fei Mingxing opened his mouth to inform the other side of his identity, no one responded. After loud shouting, they then searched the cars from top to bottom. A leader-type person grabbed Fei Mingxing by the collar and asked: “What are you doing?”

“We're Chinese diplomats, going to Ras Jedir, there are our Chinese citizens there who need help with exit,” said Fei Mingxing.

“You can't go there!”

“Why?”

“There's no 'why' - there's fighting there, you Chinese mustn't go there.”

Fei Mingxing recognized from the other side's tone certain nuances: The other side suspected the Chinese position. At the beginning of the unrest in Libya, the Chinese government had at the United Nations several times not behaved according to sanction plans against the Libyan government prepared by Western countries, which led some opposition forces in Libya to think China would favor the Gaddafi regime. This misunderstanding really existed at that time.

“Please believe us: Our Chinese government will never interfere in the internal affairs of your country. We respect the sovereignty and will of the people of your country, likewise we hope you respect our rights. Now there's war in your country, our citizens who came here to help you build houses and roads can't work anymore. They want to return to their country via the border crossing Ras Jedir, and we're going there to help them cross the border - that's the entire purpose why we're going there.” Fei Mingxing seriously stated his position.

The paramilitary armed men pushed with their fists against the backs of Fei Mingxing and the other team members - they recognized the bulletproof vests.

“Take them off, give them to us,” they said.

Was this demand a certain reaction from the other side? Fei Mingxing and the others exchanged glances, a team member said: “Let's give them, otherwise we can't go further!”

Fei Mingxing considered briefly and nodded in agreement. The six team members all took off their bulletproof vests and left them on the roadside. When the paramilitaries saw the Chinese were so cooperative, they finally let them pass.

“Don't take yours off yet,” Fei Mingxing held him back with an urgent look. “If anyone gives something, it's me.”

The safety of his comrades was another central responsibility close to Fei Mingxing's heart.

“It's like this,” Fei Mingxing explained to the quasi-armed men pressing him in a changed tone. “You know, we've been sent by the government. All equipment items we carry with us were recorded in writing in the homeland and mustn't be lost under any circumstances. If you want other items, you're welcome to choose.”

Again there was confusion, and the vehicle was again relieved of a load of items.

“If this continues, we'll arrive at the border crossing practically only with underpants and undershirt!” the team members joked dejectedly.

“As long as we reach the border alive, even complete stripping would still be an educational experience!” Fei Mingxing encouraged his comrades and at the same time instructed them to collect hidden cash. “At the coming checkpoints we'll probably be dependent on these 'weapons'!”

“If we can save our lives with this 'weapon,' then thank God!” said the people in the car.

Zawiya lay ahead! Fei Mingxing and his people heard from afar the heavy shots from the city. On the large and small roads leading to Zawiya, various groups of people hastened in flight. Armed men who mixed among them fired wildly around again and again. This scenery, this situation were terrifying.

“Fei, can you let me go home?” the Libyan driver suddenly asked, stepped on the brake, parked the car at the roadside and pleaded with Fei Mingxing with a plaintive expression. “I have a wife and four children. They all hope I'll come back alive...”

This was bad! This was one of the things Fei Mingxing most feared and sought to avoid. Not that Fei Mingxing couldn't have driven himself without the employees, but that with Libyans in the car, communication with the various Libyan people along the way would definitely bring numerous advantages.

Fei Mingxing looked at the two drivers, frowned and then said kindly and benevolently: “I understand very well that you're worried about your safety, that's quite understandable. But we really need your help now, because at your Libyan border over ten thousand of our people can't get across. They originally came here to help you build houses and roads. They also have wives and children at home. They also want to return home to reunite with their families. But now they just can't get out and are in danger of being killed by your people through random shooting.

Over ten thousand people! These more than ten thousand people are all your friends, Chinese friends who came to help build up your homeland. We just want to ask you to bring us to the border. After that you can return home. Is that all right?”

The drivers were silent.

“Well, if you absolutely must go back, then bring this to your families...” Fei Mingxing pulled out two bundles of cash and handed them to the Libyan drivers.

“Let's get in,” Fei Mingxing waved to his comrades.

“Fei, wait a moment, we're coming! We're willing to drive together with Chinese friends to Ras Jedir!” the two Libyan drivers changed their minds.

Fei Mingxing smiled and gladly vacated the driver's seat. The vehicle column continued its way to Zawiya...

“Ratatatat...” Suddenly from some direction heavy machine gun fire sounded.

“Down!” “Down!”

Fei Mingxing rolled around lightning-fast, plunged out of the vehicle and landed in a shallow ditch by the roadside. He lay on the ground and saw how the remaining persons from the car followed his example and all rolling and falling threw themselves flat into the ditch.

“After returning to the country, someone asked me how it feels when bullets fly over your head. I told them, it doesn't feel like anything at all. Because in that moment our heads were completely empty, we knew nothing anymore!” Fei Mingxing later often told acquaintances.

After a while, the shooting stopped, the bullets no longer flew over their heads. Fei Mingxing brushed through his hair, wiped off the dust and tried with all his strength to appear calm. But he noticed his tongue was somewhat stiff when speaking. When he looked at the others, all were deathly pale.

What does terror mean? This was the true experience.

For a good while, there was deadly silence in the car, no one spoke a single word. Only the droning motor noise could be heard, while behind the vehicle like a long dragon a dust cloud was hurled far back...

Ahead was another checkpoint. Dozens of police rushed over when they saw Fei Mingxing's vehicle column, raised their machine pistols and short weapons and drove Fei Mingxing and his group like a flock of ducks without a single word into a corner.

“That's it, these guys want our necks!” someone said quietly. The pants of both Libyan drivers were both completely soaked through.

“If one must die, one should at least know clearly why.” Fei Mingxing took Zong Yu and ran to a police officer who looked like a leader. First he tried to approach him, then he began to chat.

“You'd better not say anything more!” the police officer snapped angrily at Fei Mingxing and stared at him grimly.

Would his life really end here? Fei Mingxing pressed his lips firmly together, his upper teeth bit on his lower lip, and he thought: So it ends like this?

If he himself came to an end, that wouldn't be so bad, but what would become of the over ten thousand compatriots at the border?

No, before death he had to at least try once more.

“Look, we...” Fei Mingxing had just opened his mouth when the police officer made a “no” gesture and said: “Outside there's curfew now, you mustn't move!”

So that was it! Fei Mingxing sank to the ground. He turned around and signaled to his companions: “Why are you still standing? Rest here!”

“They won't kill us?” the team members cheered.

“Nobody wants to kill us, they've imposed a curfew...” Fei Mingxing felt his back suddenly become ice cold, as if he had been through a rain shower.

“From Tripoli to the border crossing Ras Jedir we made a detour of over 500 kilometers, drove a full eight hours and passed more than 50 checkpoints. Every single experience in this time span could be written down as an exciting section of a novel. Words like 'breathtaking,' 'trial of life and death' or 'complete collapse' to describe the situation at that time I consider by no means exaggerated. In any case, our nerves were practically completely numb at the last few checkpoints. Whether they wanted to stab or shoot us - they should do whatever they wanted, the main thing was we could pass!” Fei Mingxing later, when he told me about this experience, described several times in succession as “unbearable to think back on.”

In reality, the dangers and difficulties Fei Mingxing and his people encountered had just begun.

“What's wrong? Why can't they get out?” Fei Mingxing kept asking himself along the way, since he wasn't very well informed about the situation at the border crossing Ras Jedir and naturally was full of questions.

After several hours of driving, they finally reached the vicinity of Ras Jedir. But here the situation was even more chaotic: Tens of thousands of people crowded at the border crossing, cars stood everywhere, tents were improvised. Children cried, old people groaned - it was like a scene from hell.

When they arrived at the border crossing Ras Jedir, Fei Mingxing first learned what real confusion means, what complete chaos is. A small border crossing, surrounded by endless desert, with a few buildings, around which refugees wanting to exit from various countries had gathered - several tens of thousands of people. The customs hall was long since filled to bursting. On the desert ground near the border crossing, as large as several football fields, people sat densely packed, and next to them garbage piled up like small hills.

The door frames and railings of the border buildings were either broken or smashed. Armed military police moved through the crowd. As soon as they discovered suspects, they beat and kicked them. Whoever resisted or tried to flee was mercilessly shot... So this was Ras Jedir.

Fei Mingxing found some Chinese workers and asked them why the Libyan side wouldn't let them through.

“We have no papers, therefore they won't let us out!” the Chinese workers said weakly.

“How long have you been here? How many of you are there in total?”

“Two days and three nights, over 500 people.”

“Are there sick people?”

“Yes, the night before there was a heavy rainstorm, he fell ill.” Someone pointed to a person lying on the ground.

Fei Mingxing went over, bent down, patted the lying worker on the shoulder and felt his forehead with his hand: “Probably he has a fever!”

This couldn't go on! They had to find a way as quickly as possible to let these people exit. Fei Mingxing immediately recognized the seriousness of the situation, because besides these several hundred Chinese workers here, almost ten thousand more from the entire western region were just about to assemble at the border crossing Ras Jedir, and they would all face the same problem: without papers they couldn't get out.

Just as Fei Mingxing was considering how to deal with the current difficult situation, he suddenly noticed how group after group of Chinese workers came toward him with joyful, surprised faces. He thought something had happened and his heart cramped for a moment. What did they want to do?

But he immediately noticed the workers hadn't run toward him, but past him... Fei Mingxing turned around and saw - oh yes! - that Zong Yu was holding up the Five-Star Flag they had brought.

“Our people have come!” “We're saved!”

The Chinese workers circled around the national flag, turned, turned, talked and talked, some even began to sing, as if they had seen long-missed relatives, as if they had glimpsed the sun in the middle of winter...

Fei Mingxing was deeply moved. The national flag, the fatherland - for those compatriots who suffered abroad, the spiritual comfort was so immensely great. Their love and their intimate connection were so strong. This emotion could perhaps only be truly experienced abroad and its weight really appreciated!

Fei Mingxing's eyes became moist.

“Come, put it up high!” The workers actually had solutions. Someone - one didn't know who - in a flash fixed the national flag in Zong Yu's hand with a pole and put it up high in the desert. Then the Chinese compatriots scattered everywhere sitting assembled before the flag. Some cried, some touched it, most stared at it intently... This scene burned firmly into Fei Mingxing's memory.

“Comrade, are you the working group sent from the homeland? I'm from the Zhongnan Institute. I know the situation here at the border crossing quite well. Whenever you need me, you can gladly instruct me!” a young female comrade came actively to Fei Mingxing full of energy to volunteer herself.

“May I ask your valuable name?”

“My name is Gao Xiaolin, Lin like forest.”

Fei Mingxing smiled and thought, this is really a comrade with very masculine style.

“Comrade Xiaolin, when I earlier negotiated with the Libyan people at the border crossing, I noticed their attitude toward us is very unfriendly. Do you know what that's due to?”

Gao Xiaolin pulled Fei Mingxing aside and said quietly: “Our group wanted to cross the border during the day but didn't have papers with them and then got into an argument with the Libyan customs officials. The angry Chinese workers kicked in the door of the border crossing, which also changed the attitude of the Libyan people toward us Chinese.”

Aha, so that was it!

Fei Mingxing was silent for a moment, called Zong Yu to him and appeared before the Libyan leaders. He handed over his business card and explained he was the leader of the working group sent by the Chinese government to this place.

The other threw the card an indifferent glance and said in a cool tone: “I can't handle that, turn to the boss.”

After three back and forths, Fei Mingxing finally learned that the supreme leader at the border crossing was a “commander” of the Libyan army.

“No, they have no papers, we can't let them through,” the commander answered Fei Mingxing very arrogantly.

What should he do now? Fei Mingxing had to return to the workers' location, took the satellite phone and asked for instructions from the homeland:

“Director Huang, we've encountered a difficult problem... It looks like we'll have to ask the Libyan leadership level to work for us at the border crossing!”

“Good, we'll take care of it immediately.”

“Ambassador Wang, please try to make contact with the Libyan side...”

“Understood.”

The diplomatic connection between Beijing and Tripoli was frequently used between Huang Ping and Ambassador Wang Wangsheng.

After half an hour, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng informed Fei Mingxing that the deputy foreign minister of the Libyan side had agreed to speak with those responsible at the border crossing Ras Jedir.

Good news! Fei Mingxing was encouraged. But after another hour, at the border crossing there was still no movement to be felt, and the commander's attitude remained hard and cold.

“Ambassador Wang, can you give me this deputy foreign minister's telephone number? I want to speak directly with him.” Fei Mingxing couldn't wait any longer.

At the border crossing Ras Jedir, hundreds or thousands of refugees were added every hour, order became increasingly chaotic, the military police shot randomly at people, and the emotions of the Chinese workers, plagued by hunger, cold and despair, escalated continuously - at any time an uncontrollable incident could break out.

“Of course.” Ambassador Wang quickly arranged for the Libyan deputy foreign minister to telephone with Fei Mingxing.

“We're currently in contact with the border crossing Ras Jedir,” the deputy minister informed Fei Mingxing very friendly.

Fei Mingxing felt the timing was essentially ripe and appeared again before the commander: “Mr. Officer, that our people don't have a passport isn't because they didn't want to bring it, nor because they don't have one. Some passports are deposited with your immigration authority, others were robbed by local gangs. That was unavoidable. If our people don't get away from here, that will also cause you many difficulties.”

Thereby he pulled out a “return certificate” transmitted by Guo Shaochun and others from the homeland. This was a specially made document for Chinese citizens living abroad who had lost their passport for special reasons. On it stood the name in English and it bore the seal of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People's Republic of China.

“Look, we can use this return certificate in place of their passports. In other countries we've already used this.”

The commander threw a glance at it, then gave the document back to Fei Mingxing and said coolly: “No!”

Damn it! Fei Mingxing was so angry he would have liked to curse, but he still suppressed his anger, put on a smile and explained further, talked reasonably.

“You can go, but first you must change the return certificate, the English must be translated into Arabic,” the commander said and continued: “Second, the photo of each individual person must be glued on. Third, on the photo there must be the stamp of your embassy.”

When Fei Mingxing heard this, he was stunned. Could he really accomplish these three things under the current circumstances?

“If you can't manage it, you don't need to come to me,” the commander said in very hard tone.

This time Fei Mingxing recognized he couldn't meet the other party harshly anymore: “Good, we'll definitely do it according to the officer's opinion!”

After these words, Fei Mingxing himself began to worry: “In the desert wilderness, where should we photograph so many people?”

“We can photograph you!” the commander became friendly this time instead.

“Really?” Fei Mingxing hadn't expected this.

After a short time, the commander had actually found someone to take photos. Fei Mingxing was very happy, but when he looked more closely, he jumped up again. The man was using a digital camera - where should they have the photos developed after taking them?

“In Zuwarah there's a photo shop!” the Libyan photographer said.

My God! Could one even drive to Zuwarah now? Even if one made it there, did the photo shop still exist? And even if all these problems didn't exist - how much time would it take until the photos were developed and brought here?

“Quickly it takes two days!” the Libyan photographer said.

“Two days? Two more days?” Fei Mingxing's eyes widened.

“Must photos really be glued on?”

“Absolutely!”

“Won't it work without?”

“Absolutely not!”

Fei Mingxing didn't need to move his mouth, he stared at the commander and communicated with his eyes. The commander remained unmoved, his gaze arrogant, in an attitude of superiority.

Understood, he wanted to earn some pocket money under the cover of his official power!

Fei Mingxing no longer talked reasonably with the commander, he now knew what the other wanted.

“Prepare the photos! We'll do it according to their will!” Fei Mingxing said to the Chinese workers.

The photo problem was solved! But how should the English be translated into Arabic?

“Hello, who can speak Arabic?” Fei Mingxing asked the group.

“I can.”

“Me too.”

“Good, then you few, follow our Xiao Zong. How he writes it, you do it accordingly.”

Now only the embassy stamp remained. Someone said that wasn't hard to solve, one could carve a stamp with soap or a carrot. Fei Mingxing stared at him angrily: “Nonsense, bringing this disgrace even to Africa!”

Yes, how should the stamp problem be solved? Fei Mingxing was at a loss.

Customs officials of all countries in the world don't necessarily have to master the languages of all countries, can't necessarily distinguish the faces of those entering and exiting, but they must memorize the stamps of each country. That is, what the coat of arms of each country looks like, they have burned into their brains. That's a professional requirement for customs officials.

Fei Mingxing had no choice but to call the embassy in Tripoli. He looked at his watch - it was after local time after midnight, after one o'clock. When he called, the ambassador's wife answered the phone: “Leader Fei, the ambassador has left for urgent reasons and isn't at the embassy.”

Fei Mingxing was moved inside. Ambassador Wang was already 58 years old and still working day and night!

“Here a few hundred people can't get out, they have no papers, the customs won't let them go and absolutely demand the embassy stamp. I estimate there will be such cases more often. I want to send someone back to get the embassy stamp.”

“Oh dear, I can't decide about that,” said the ambassador's wife, although she was also an embassy staff member. “There's only one single embassy stamp!” she added by way of explanation.

“Sister-in-law, they didn't say it absolutely has to be the embassy stamp. Since they didn't say that, we can use a stamp from another department of the embassy.”

“Understood, I'll search for it immediately,” the ambassador's wife replied.

Fei Mingxing immediately sent someone to Tripoli.

“Take the shortest route, the faster the better. Best you're back here before dawn,” he instructed.

“Understood.”

After the people had driven off to get the stamp, Fei Mingxing immediately had Zong Yu, Gao Xiaolin and others make contact with the customs officials at the border crossing to achieve facilitation for the Chinese workers' exit.

A cold wind blew up, Fei Mingxing shivered and unconsciously pulled his clothes tight. But when he directed his gaze at those compatriots sitting on the ground, his heart contracted. Outside it was too cold, and they hadn't eaten for days. How should this continue?

“Under no circumstances may we lose personnel under non-combat conditions! This rule applies to the members of your working group and equally to all evacuated compatriots!” suddenly Director Huang Ping's farewell words echoed in Fei Mingxing's ears.

Fei Mingxing looked at the compatriots sleeping in the desert sand, and his heart hurt. These compatriots with families and households had come from far away, tens of thousands of kilometers, to Africa. Originally they wanted to earn some money for their families. Who would have thought they now had to sleep in the wilderness, completely penniless!

If they still couldn't leave the next day and got sick en masse, what would happen then? At this thought, Fei Mingxing immediately became nervous.

“Have the Chinese companies first advance money, I'll sign, later we'll pay them back. Quickly buy something to eat for the workers! Also look if there are blankets or similar in the shops nearby. The people can't sleep in the open like this!”

“I'll go,” Zong Yu volunteered.

The efficiently working Zong Yu accomplished this quickly. Bread and mineral water were bought, for everyone two breads and two bottles of mineral water.

“Do you need more? There's still some in the shop,” Zong Yu asked.

“Leave them something, don't buy everything out,” said Fei Mingxing.

“Why?”

“If you buy out everything, there are still so many citizens of other nations here. Where should they buy then? We shouldn't draw others' hatred onto us!”

Fei Mingxing's words impressed Zong Yu greatly.

Zong Yu continued: “The shop owner said he can get blankets, however the price is high.”

“How expensive?”

“About two to three times as expensive as normally.”

“That's not expensive. If someone gets a cold, that would cost much more money! Buy! Best a blanket per person, if that's not enough, two can share one!”

Four to five hours later, 296 blankets were distributed to the workers. The workers trembling from cold were so moved when they got the blankets that they shouted loudly: “This is given by the state!” “So warm!”

In a flash it was five or six in the morning. The sun rose in the east, the wind still blew, but Fei Mingxing felt infinitely comforted, because he saw several hundred sleeping compatriots, all firmly wrapped in blankets...

Fei Mingxing was a bit moved, his nose tingled and he wanted to cry, but he held himself back. He knew a new day had broken, and fiercer and more arduous battles were awaiting him!

It was the 26th. According to instructions from the homeland and information delivered by the embassy, over 4,000 Chinese compatriots should assemble at the border crossing Ras Jedir and had to be evacuated to Tunisia on this day.

The entire task rested on Fei Mingxing's shoulders. On his shoulders he now carried the burden of the entire embassy stationed in Libya, the burden of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the burden of the Chinese government, the expectations of hundreds of millions of Chinese citizens!

The people who had gone to Tripoli with great difficulty to get the embassy stamp had returned. The curtain for the great evacuation of ten thousand Chinese at the border crossing Ras Jedir would now rise!

First they had to get the Libyan authorities at the border crossing to open a special passage for them, otherwise it would take forever for so many people to get through! This task was assigned to Zong Yu and Gao Xiaolin. Fei Mingxing, Lin Xianxian and others organized the troops and prepared the operation.

Under Fei Mingxing's command, the evacuation of compatriots was quickly organized into groups. Every 20 persons formed a group, each group had a group leader responsible for order in the entire group. Meanwhile, Lin Xianxing, who came from the Entry and Exit Authority of the Ministry of Public Security, was eagerly busy making return certificates for the Chinese compatriots according to the three points required by the Libyan border commander...

Not to mention the rest - just from all the stamping one got arm and back pains. Lin Xianxing vigorously moved his arm up and down and sweated all over.

Fei Mingxing came by, looked at him and said: “Stamp the first 20 clear and distinct, on the others you can use less force.”

Lin Xianxing smiled and understood. On the subsequent stamps his arm saved considerably on force.

In the office of the supreme commander at the border crossing Ras Jedir, Zong Yu and Gao Xiaolin acted very familiar with the commander and handed him the prepared, newly made return certificates for Chinese citizens for inspection and approval.

“Mr. Commander, we've done it exactly according to your instructions, it was so laborious! We worked all night on it...” Zong Yu made a pained gesture as if he could no longer lift his arm.

The commander looked at the Chinese return certificates while throwing a sidelong glance at Zong Yu's pitiful expression. His heart seemed to feel utmost satisfaction.

“All right!” the commander said with firm voice.

“Oh, many heartfelt thanks, Mr. Commander! China and Libya are friends forever!” Gao Xiaolin called out and suddenly stretched out both arms to embrace the commander in a gesture of boundless enthusiasm. But half a meter before his body she lightning-fast pulled back her arms and instead performed an Islamic greeting gesture with folded hands - a turn that caused the commander to smile involuntarily.

Fei Mingxing's blood boiled with excitement: “Zong Yu, now it depends on whether you and Gao Xiaolin can successfully cross the border with the first group!”

“No problem!” Zong Yu replied, also infected by the general mood, his posture ramrod straight.

“Leader Fei, I have a suggestion...” Gao Xiaolin addressed Fei Xiaoming. “The first group of 20 persons crossing the border should best consist of our colleagues from the Zhongnan Institute who didn't get out yesterday. Their qualifications are relatively higher - if they leave a good first impression on the Libyan customs officials, it will run more smoothly for all who follow!”

“That's exactly how we'll do it!” Fei Mingxing agreed.

“Prepare for exit!” he commanded emphatically.

The first exit group of 20 persons, assembled from staff of the Zhongnan Institute, moved to the exit counter. Gao Xiaolin went at the front, while Zong Yu brought up the rear.

When the specially made return certificate for Chinese citizens was handed to the Libyan customs official at the exit counter, he looked at it skeptically and became suspicious: “This here...” he began hesitantly.

“This was made with express consent of your commander, and precisely according to his requirements. Look, it's written in Arabic, bears their photos, and here - here is the official stamp of our embassy...” Gao Xiaolin immediately explained with an ingratiating voice.

“But all others use passports,” the official still objected doubtfully.

“You already know me - we Chinese are all exiting under my leadership. There will be no problems, your commander has already accepted it...” Gao Xiaolin was just assuring him when the commander happened to pass by nearby.

“Mr. Commander, Mr. Commander! Our return certificate was made exactly according to your specifications!” Gao Xiaolin called and demonstratively handed the commander a copy of the return certificate.

The commander seemed to hardly find it necessary to throw another glance at it and merely nodded to the customs official: “Let them pass!”

“Yes sir!” the customs official replied promptly and grabbed the exit stamp, which he pressed with a clearly audible “bang” on the Chinese return certificate.

“Go! Quickly go!” Gao Xiaolin urged excitedly and pushed one Chinese worker after another through the exit point...

The 20 persons quickly passed the first control. Immediately Gao Xiaolin led them to the second checkpoint.

“Report to the group leader: The first group got through smoothly! Quickly let the next people come!” Zong Yu reported discreetly via radio from the exit point to Fei Mingxing 100 meters away.

The radio had been left behind by a Chinese company - now it proved extremely useful for the working group!

“Excellent!” Fei Mingxing called and gave the signal with a decisive hand movement. The second group of 20 persons quickly followed the first and completed the exit formalities in exactly the same way.

“The third group advances...” “The fourth group stands ready...”

“Report to the group leader: All our people are out!” came Zong Yu's report.

“All out? Repeat that once more!” Fei Mingxing replied and threw a glance at his wristwatch - it was just a bit more than an hour that had passed. His heart hammered heavily in his chest.

If this actually was true, this was a reason for unbridled jubilation and boundless excitement!

“Yes, all are out!” Zong Yu repeated with even louder and more emphatic voice.

“Excellent!” Fei Mingxing immediately reacted and sent a short message to Guo Shaochun and Huang Ping in the homeland: “Over 600 persons without passports who were stuck at the Libyan-Tunisian border have successfully exited.”

In less than a minute, a reply arrived from the homeland: “The great heroic deed is accomplished - keep it up!”

Although it was only eight short words, Fei Mingxing felt as if he had won an Olympic gold medal. He hopped with enthusiasm up and down in the desert sand.

“Mr. Ambassador, we've successfully crossed the border. Please immediately notify all Chinese enterprises from the west to assemble immediately at the border crossing Ras Jedir...” Fei Mingxing informed the Libyan embassy.

“Understood.”

This February 26th should be a day that belonged to China at the border crossing Ras Jedir. For the hungry, homesick Chinese evacuees, it was an extraordinarily glorious, extraordinarily moving day that would remain forever engraved in their hearts.

In endless columns, thousands and tens of thousands of large troops came. It was a very special formation: They arrived orderly and uniformly in vehicles, seemed strictly disciplined and excellently trained - and yet their vehicles were a colorful hodgepodge of most different kinds: trucks, delivery vans, trailers, even local police cars.

Many Chinese enterprises had built extremely harmonious relationships with the locals. When the Libyan local militias or regular armies heard that the Chinese friends who had built houses for them were now departing, they came especially to say goodbye. The scene was characterized by remarkable liveliness.

Fei Mingxing was filled with deep emotions. In this world truly anything can happen - in Libya quite especially.

Several thousand people had to exit - how long would processing probably take? This question had to be thoroughly thought through by Fei Mingxing as supreme commander on site.

After brief reflection, he called together the leaders of the Chinese enterprises and distributed the tasks. No matter how many billions these big managers controlled or how many tens of thousands of employees they commanded - Fei Mingxing could take no consideration of niceties in this situation:

“Each of your units is from now on a combat regiment. We must go out together today with several regiments. Due to the enormous number of exiting persons, we must strengthen organization and maintain strict discipline - otherwise there will be unforeseen incidents and we risk endangering the entire great cause. You must organize each formation meticulously: each formation comprises 400 persons, each row within the formation consists of 20 persons. In this way the following group can connect immediately as soon as the previous one has passed. The connection in between must function seamlessly - there must be neither delays nor gaps in the column. Each formation needs a formation leader, each 20-person row needs a group leader. Have you completely understood this?”

“Yes, understood!”

“Good, return and organize the formation!” Fei Mingxing stood up and pointed to an empty space nearby that he had already scouted out beforehand: “All units assemble there for formation, with our national flag as central reference point. Now immediately into action!”

“Yes sir!”

“Go! Into action!”

On this memorable February 26, 2011, at the Libyan border crossing Ras Jedir, before the eyes of tens of thousands of foreign refugees, Chinese staff stood under the national flag waving in the wind with proud bearing and alert spirit and presented their very unique radiance.

With backpacks on their shoulders, holding passports or return certificates in their hands, they resembled freshly recruited militiamen. Although their clothing shimmered in colorful hues and they were of different heights, their steps were firm and powerful - they marched in perfect lockstep toward home.

“Now the Zhongtu formation exits.”

“The Hongfu formation follows up...”

One exit formation after another began to march toward customs. At the head of each formation walked members of Fei Mingxing's small special troop, each of them holding a bright red national flag high. As soon as a formation had passed, the next immediately followed, and the flags were passed on between formations.

As the flags were carried past the compatriots, the pride-filled faces shone in the glow of enthusiasm - they seemed to sing in chorus songs like “Our Fatherland is Glorious” or “China is Great”... Such scenes wouldn't be seen too frequently - they were even more spectacular, even more stirring than the most impressive film sequences!

Was this actually an evacuation exit? This resembled rather a grand military parade!

Was this really a group of frightened refugees? This was rather an unshakeable wall of steel!

The Libyan customs officials were speechless with amazement! The border police stood as if frozen! The tens of thousands of exhausted foreign refugees were dumbfounded!

They were all deeply shaken by this orderly and extraordinary exit column - the Chinese were truly impressive!

“Why are you letting the Chinese exit but not us?” the foreign citizens in the customs hall began to ask enviously and take the Libyan customs officials to task.

“Can you be as disciplined as the Chinese? Has your country sent personnel to organize your exit?” the customs officials countered with a counter-question.

No one answered. And so only the Chinese could exit in this way.

On this February 26th, Fei Mingxing roughly calculated and came to the result that over 3,200 compatriots had exited from Ras Jedir.

He immediately reported this number to the homeland and at the same time made a report to Ambassador Wang Wangsheng in Tripoli, with the request to forward the information to the Tunisian embassy so it could prepare the transit connection accordingly.

At the same time, Ambassador Wang Wangsheng transmitted to Fei Mingxing the information that on February 27, almost 5,000 persons would come through the border crossing Ras Jedir.

“Tomorrow even more people will come than today!” Zong Yu and Fei Mingxing said in the provisional desert camp, leaning shoulder to shoulder. While they ate Chinese sausage cubes gifted by work colleagues and looked at the stars occasionally appearing in the night firmament, they mentally prepared for the battle of the coming day.

“Why are you eating so much of it!” Lin Xianxing from the Ministry of Public Security stormed over and tore the sausage from Zong Yu's hand. “One should only eat little of this stuff - there's clenbuterol in it!”

“Leave me alone!” Zong Yu flared up, snatched the sausage back from Lin Xianxing and stuffed it greedily into his mouth. “What do I care about clenbuterol or not! I find today's sausage is the most delicious Chinese sausage in the whole world! If you don't believe me, ask Leader Fei!”

Fei Mingxing, who was also eating heartily, smiled: “I haven't eaten sausage for five or maybe even ten years. Now I recognize that was a mistake. At least today I'm firmly convinced that sausage is the most delicious thing in the whole world - it can serve both as side dish and as main meal.”

Under the open sky in the wilderness, overnight, plagued by cold and hunger - only when the tense combat operations came to a standstill did one perceive the deep exhaustion and hardship of one's own body, but could at the same time also enjoy the special charm of battle.

In reality, Fei Mingxing and his comrades couldn't come to rest at all. The evacuation columns from all bases were just assembling from all directions at the border crossing, telephone connections kept breaking off, so one couldn't reliably determine the exact routes and arrival times of the individual columns.

The decisive thing was that Ras Jedir belonged to the border region, where Libyan border troops were still present and armed opposition forces had already advanced. In the general chaos, both sides frequently mistakenly held the columns of foreign citizens evacuating to the border crossing Ras Jedir for enemy troops, so permanent acute danger existed. This filled Fei Mingxing and his men with extraordinary concern.

“Leader Fei, currently over 40 vehicles of the 11th Zhongtie construction group have been detained by border troops. You must immediately send personnel for rescue! Immediately!” the embassy transmitted an urgent mission order to Fei Mingxing on the early morning of February 27.

“Zong Yu, you and Xiao Chen drive there immediately and clarify the situation. Try by all means to bring them here!” Fei Mingxing ordered Zong Yu and embassy staff member Xiao Chen to execute the mission immediately.

“Yes sir! March off!”

Zong Yu and Xiao Chen called the driver and drove to the Libyan border checkpoint where the Chinese company vehicles were being held.

When they arrived on site and inquired, they learned this evacuation column had come to a standstill at the Libyan border because the border checkpoint had been closed.

“What should we do?” Zong Yu called and asked Fei Mingxing for instructions.

“What should one do - seek out the local police and border troops!” Fei Mingxing answered.

Thereupon Zong Yu and the others hurried to locate the local police officers, explained the situation to them and asked for their support. The police officers proved quite helpful and willing to help. In communicating with the border soldiers, however, some persuasive words were needed.

Zong Yu explained they still had to exit on the 27th and therefore the vehicle column had to reach the border crossing Ras Jedir early in the morning. When the police officers noticed the border soldiers still hesitated, they guaranteed emphatically: “I can guarantee for the Chinese friends - they are absolutely unsuspicious.”

“Drive!” the border troops finally opened the checkpoint.

“When the vehicle column came by, I happened to be standing by the roadside observing the scene. It was between two and three in the morning. From afar I saw a tremendous, seemingly endless column approaching. At the front, police vehicles with flashing blue lights drove as escort, behind followed a consistently uniform fleet of dump trucks converted to personnel carriers. In each dump truck bed sat over 30 persons, all in perfect order. The workers were really obedient, and our state enterprises had really come up with a brilliant idea. In the dawn, from all vehicles two bright light cones shone forward. They drove one after another toward the border crossing Ras Jedir - an extraordinarily imposing sight. That was the first time I saw in a nocturnal scenery such a large number of vehicles majestically pass by me. In this moment I thought: We have truly accomplished something great in Libya, and the Libyans have also supported us extraordinarily - we should be grateful to them,” Fei Mingxing later recalled in a conversation with me.

After this column reached the border crossing Ras Jedir, Fei Mingxing and his people immediately coordinated with the customs officials at the border crossing so it became the first group to exit through the special passage on the 27th. Over 1,000 persons, impeccably ordered, marched under the leadership of a Chinese national flag toward the morning glow and entered with proud, slightly victorious mien in formation into Tunisian territory...

“Report! Catastrophe! We've lost a whole vehicle of people! They're still being held at the border checkpoint...” a Chinese enterprise exiting suddenly reported to Fei Mingxing.

When checking their troops, they had discovered some dozens of persons were missing - and these people hadn't arrived at the border crossing Ras Jedir at all.

This was highly dangerous!

“Lin Xianxing, you and Li Qingsheng drive there as fast as possible and clarify the situation!” cold sweat immediately broke out on Fei Mingxing.

Dozens of people scattered in the border region - should they get into combat and fall under fire, that would be by no means surprising. How could Fei Mingxing not fall into highest alarm readiness?

This time Lin Xianxian personally drove the delivery van they had come from Tripoli with on the mission.

“Will that work?” Fei Mingxing asked worriedly - it was the first time he had his people drive cars themselves in a foreign country, especially for such an urgent mission.

“Won't be a problem!” Lin Xianxian assured, stepped on the gas pedal and raced to the accident site.

Indeed, the local police station at exactly that border checkpoint which had granted passage this morning had stopped a vehicle with dozens of Chinese workers, and the vehicle itself had also been confiscated.

“The vehicle was requisitioned,” the police explained.

Lin Xianxing learned from the workers' stories that their last vehicle wasn't a dump truck. When the tremendous fleet of dump trucks drove through the border checkpoint, the border troop noticed the last vehicle looked different from the previous ones and took it for a possibly illegal border crossing - therefore it was detained and handed over to the local police station.

“They belong to exactly the same company as the group that just came through. Please let them pass,” Li Qingsheng asked.

The police officers shook their heads: “They have no passports, absolutely no identification documents. How do you want to prove they're actually Chinese, as you claim? Therefore we must keep them in custody.”

This question posed Li Qingsheng and Lin Xianxian an apparently unsolvable riddle. Indeed - in such a sensitive and tense time, if a group of people without any papers appears at the border, it lies completely within the framework of understanding that border troops and police hold them.

They're doubtlessly Chinese, but how should one prove it?

“They can check my ID. I've been sent by the Chinese government as a member of the evacuation working group. I can testify they're our Chinese compatriots!” Li Qingsheng negotiated again with the police officers.

“That won't do - your ID can only prove you're Chinese, but not that they are,” the police officers shook their heads and smiled apologetically at Lin Xianxing.

“They can sing the Chinese national anthem!” Li Qingsheng suddenly called in a flash of inspiration with loud voice to the Libyan police officers.

“Sing the Chinese national anthem?”

“Exactly! If they weren't Chinese, they might be able to speak a few Chinese sentences, but normally couldn't sing the Chinese national anthem!”

“This logic... actually seems sound,” the police officers nodded in agreement.

Li Qingsheng immediately turned around and addressed the dozens of Chinese workers: “Everyone listen carefully: Attention! Left turn! All together sing the national anthem!”

The workers immediately understood and lined themselves up in formation of their own accord.

“Ready... sing!”

“Arise! You who refuse to be slaves! With our flesh and blood we build our new Great Wall! The Chinese nation is in greatest danger, every individual is forced to let out the last desperate cry...”

The dozens of Chinese workers didn't know where they suddenly got this strength - they sang with deepest emotion and devoted fervor, sang the national anthem so sublimely and powerfully, so filled with intense feelings!

The Libyan police officers were deeply impressed. Indeed - they all sang, all mastered the song.

“You there - step forward and sing!” a police officer commanded and pointed to a worker in the formation.

Thereupon that worker proudly raised his head and sang with loud voice: “Arise! Arise! Arise...”

“And you! Sing!”

So the Chinese worker sang: “We, a people united in heart, defy the enemy bombardment and march forward! Defy the enemy bombardment and march forward! Forward, forward, forward!”

“Go! You're all Chinese!” the police officers clapped enthusiastic applause and waved to Li Qingsheng with an inviting gesture.

“March off!” Li Qingsheng commanded and led the troop on foot. Lin Xianxing drove back with the car to make a report.

On the main road, these recovered Chinese workers marched toward the border crossing Ras Jedir with high spirits. On the entire 3 kilometers they sang the national anthem continuously.

This could become a classic scene of history. A classic scene in which Chinese abroad prove their identity in a moving way.

When Fei Mingxing saw his compatriots coming to the border crossing singing the national anthem, he broke into peals of laughter - he laughed until tears came. These tears were filled with deep emotion, filled with most intimate feelings.

On the morning of February 27, the spectacular spectacle of massive Chinese exits appeared again at the border crossing Ras Jedir. The Beijing Construction Group alone brought 182 vehicles to the border crossing as a single unit.

At that time, over 4,000 people had assembled in the Chinese evacuation camp that Fei Mingxing and his people had demarcated. Having such a large number of people exit together was truly no easy task.

Under the command of Fei Mingxing and others, they first lined up in the assembly area and then formed gigantic formations according to work units. At the head of each formation stood a member of Fei Mingxing's working group as leader, each leader carried a Five-Star Flag held high in hand. Wherever the Five-Star Flag pointed, the formation behind followed in impeccable order...

400 persons... 400 persons... Again 400 persons...

The originally chaotic, noisy and despair-marked border crossing Ras Jedir was suddenly transformed by the appearance of the tremendous Chinese exit column into a place of solemn dignity and exemplary order.

“The Chinese are truly extraordinary!” “The Chinese are simply impressive!”

When the Chinese columns marched through the Libyan border station, the tens of thousands of refugees from other nations assembled at the border crossing were equally envious and full of admiration - even the Libyans working at the border crossing felt likewise.

When darkness fell and border control closed, the Chinese western route evacuation troop had already essentially completely exited. The mission was completed ahead of time and with complete success.

When the last formation left the border crossing Ras Jedir and entered Tunisian territory, Fei Mingxing collapsed and fell backward into the sand. He stretched out all his limbs, breathed several times deeply toward the sky and then turned his head to Zong Yu, who was also lying in the sand: “How many exited today?”

“4,736 persons,” Zong Yu answered precisely.

“Without having counted the dozens of Vietnamese,” Lin Xianxing added from the side.

“That wasn't our official task,” Zong Yu noted.

“Let's consider it an expression of our friendship!” a slight smile showed on Fei Mingxing's face. He remembered back to the scene when the Vietnamese used a moment of the customs officials' inattention to infiltrate the Chinese evacuation column...

“Report to Leader Fei: Vietnamese have mixed into our formation - what should we do?” formation members reported to Fei Mingxing.

Fei Mingxing initially became somewhat nervous, worried this might cause problems for all Chinese compatriots' transit, and hesitated with his decision.

“Big brother, we Chinese and Vietnamese are comrades and brothers - let us go together!” some Vietnamese begged Fei Mingxing in broken Chinese.

When Fei Mingxing saw the poor, pleading Vietnamese before him, deep pity and compassion stirred in his heart. Let them go together with us - abroad everyone has it hard!

These Vietnamese later all came safely through customs control.

On February 28, Fei Mingxing's group completed their mission. The homeland instructed them to immediately evacuate to Tunisian territory.

Perhaps from extreme overexertion, perhaps from intense overexcitement - when they crossed the Tunisian border line and glimpsed the staff of the Tunisian embassy waiting there, these otherwise so strong and robust young men like Fei Mingxing collapsed exhausted one after another...

“Tell us quickly, what would you most like to eat now - what delicacies?” the reception staff of the Tunisian embassy asked while supporting the heroes of the special unit and asking again and again.

“I don't want to eat anything, just shower and sleep. We haven't showered for five days,” Fei Mingxing said with difficulty.

Hardly had he said this when he himself began to laugh, his comrades laughed along, and the embassy staff also joined in the laughter. They all laughed so heartily they couldn't straighten up anymore, laughed while the waves and wind on the Mediterranean coast danced joyfully...

(Originally published by Writers' Publishing House, 2012)

The Dragon Explores the Sea: China's “Jiaolong” Challenges the Deep Sea (Excerpt)

Xu Chen

I. The Clarion Call for Deep-Sea Assembly Sounds

The wind blew bitingly cold, snowflakes swirled densely downward. This was the heaviest snowfall Beijing had seen in many years!

On December 7, 2001, ice and snow blocked the road surfaces, bringing traffic to a widespread standstill. All the streets and alleys of the city center seemed to have become one endless parking lot. For the first time in its history, the Beijing city government issued a Snow Removal Order No. 1. Heavy snow, weekend, traffic chaos—getting around the city had truly become an “arduous journey.” That day, countless people stood desperately at the roadside trying to hail cabs, but every passing taxi was occupied to the last seat. When an occasional public bus stopped at a station, passengers crowded in masses—the doors couldn't be closed for half an hour...

In the conference room of the Friendship Hotel in Beijing's Haidian District, however, an atmosphere of spring-like warmth and pulsing vitality prevailed. The High-Tech Department of the Ministry of Science and Technology and the automation expert group of the national “863 Program” were holding a selection meeting here for members of the overall leadership team for the “7,000-meter manned submersible” project. The overall leadership functioned essentially as the head of the entire special project, responsible for organizing and coordinating the research and development plan, overall technical coordination, and other central tasks—in short, it was the operational front command of a major battle. Only after the overall leadership team had been successfully assembled and the battle plan established could the individual “battlefields” begin their work accordingly.

Representatives from relevant national institutions had gathered in large numbers—the State Oceanic Administration, the office of the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association, Institutes 702 and 701 of the China State Shipbuilding Corporation, the Institute of Acoustics and the Shenyang Institute of Automation of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. Feng Jichun, Director of the High-Tech Department of the Ministry of Science and Technology, chaired the meeting. He began with enthusiastic and warm opening remarks: “Today the snowflakes are falling outside—this is a good omen, for snow promises a fruitful year! We're establishing an open arena here, and you heroes should present your respective strengths, so the jury can make a well-founded selection...”

This was a completely novel organizational form. In the past, the development of new equipment had often been the affair of individual research institutes, with limited resources and not specifically aligned with the needs of end users. This time, the Ministry of Science and Technology had decided to break with the traditional system and establish a superior institution to lead the entire project. The overall leadership emerged from this need. And the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association, which had always been committed to marine equipment, was logically pushed to the forefront. Liu Feng, as deputy director of the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association and head of project management, took on this responsibility without hesitation.

After several candidates had completed their presentations, Director Feng Jichun announced: “Now I ask Liu Feng from the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association to present his application report.”

Liu Feng rose at the call, stepped forward to the podium, bowed to the assembly, and said in a clear, audible voice: “Esteemed jurors, esteemed leaders, good morning! My presentation is divided into three main parts: first, my personal background; second, my understanding of the major 863 special project; third, my preliminary considerations for participating in the overall leadership of the major special project. I will now report using my PowerPoint presentation...” As he spoke, he displayed the application materials he had carefully prepared in advance on the large screen. The materials were detailed and clearly structured.

As head of project management at the Ocean Association, he had participated in formulating relevant plans, ensuring that the Association's ocean exploration, technological development, environmental research, and shipbuilding could advance in a coordinated manner. In the national 863 key project for an autonomous underwater robot with 6,000-meter depth capacity, he had been a member of the overall leadership and specifically responsible for formulating technical requirements under deep-sea environmental conditions and for the interface between ship equipment and robot. Of even greater significance, he had organized experts in creating a needs analysis report for manned deep-sea submersibles...

Finally, he cleared his throat, raised his voice, and said: “As a member of the overall leadership, my preliminary considerations are as follows: First—the situation is urgent, time waits for no one. The world is in the midst of a blue land-grab movement, and we Chinese must not become mere spectators. Currently, the mineral-rich nodule areas have already been completely divided up, and the International Seabed Authority is in the process of formulating regulations for seabed sulfides and cobalt-rich crusts—yet we suffer from having no suitable means to conduct detailed investigations. Second—the prerequisites exist, accelerated development is possible. Our country already has a solid foundation in the field of deep-sea transport technology that we can build upon. Now there are both clear user needs and support from the sponsors. The basic guideline of our Ocean Association is: 'Continuously conduct deep-sea exploration, vigorously develop deep-sea technology, build deep-sea industry at the appropriate time.' It is required to develop a practically deployable manned deep-sea transport vehicle during the 10th Five-Year Plan. One can say: Everything is ready—only the favorable east wind is still missing. If I am successfully selected, I will, under the strong leadership of the superior authorities, bring together all participating units and scientific staff, overcome all difficulties, and successfully complete this task to make an appropriate contribution to our country's deep-sea diving work and ocean development. This concludes my report—I thank all jurors and leaders!”

Hardly had he spoken his last words when spontaneous, hearty applause erupted, echoing through the entire conference hall.

The leading experts, scientists, and senior officials present were deeply impressed and extremely satisfied with Liu Feng's application presentation. They emphasized that his speech presented clear positions, thoughtful concepts, convincing arguments, and exuded solid credibility. One could clearly see that he had prepared extremely thoroughly: He was not only completely familiar with the entire history and background of developing a 7,000-meter deep-sea submersible with crew, but also possessed an exceptionally strong sense of responsibility and passionate dedication to the development of China's deep-sea resources.

When all application candidates had completed their presentations, the jury members began their intensive and concentrated evaluation work. Although the time for dinner had already arrived, they continued discussing with great passion and intensity...

The discussions extended far into the evening...

After a rigorous, scientifically sound, public, and fair selection process, the evaluation committee—proceeding from a perspective that served the overall interests of the project and comprehensively considering all relevant factors—established the membership list of the overall project group: Liu Feng (Assistant Professor to the Chairman of the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association, Head of Project Management Department, Professor with senior engineer title), Xu Qinan (Researcher at the 702nd Research Institute of the China Shipbuilding Industry Corporation), Wan Zhengquan (Deputy Director and Researcher at the 702nd Institute of CSIC, later replaced by Cui Weicheng, Director and Researcher at the 702nd Institute), Wu Chongjian (Director and Researcher at the 701st Institute of CSIC), Zhang Aiqun (Researcher at the Shenyang Institute of Automation of the Chinese Academy of Sciences), Zhu Weiqing (Researcher at the Institute of Acoustics of the Chinese Academy of Sciences). Liu Feng was appointed head of the overall project group.

That evening, the heavy snowfall that had continued all day had finally stopped and the weather cleared, but temperatures had fallen extremely. On the streets not yet fully cleared, icy tracks had hardened and frozen.

Pedestrians and vehicles moved equally cautiously and carefully forward, like small women with bound feet, and despite all caution, it was impossible to avoid slipping east and swaying west.

Liu Feng reached home only after great difficulty, well past midnight, but he felt not the slightest trace of fatigue or exhaustion—instead he was completely filled with excitement and deep emotion. He understood only too well: The mission was honorable and glorious, but the responsibility was extraordinarily great and heavy! Once the bow was drawn, there was no arrow that returned. Liu Feng, who since childhood had had a great fondness for Tang poetry and Song lyrics, recited internally again and again that famous poem by Wang Changling: “Over Qinghai Lake dark clouds cross snowy mountains, the lonely city gazes into the distance toward Yumen Pass. Through a hundred battles in the yellow sand the golden armor is pierced—but until the enemy fortress of Loulan is conquered, we will never return.” His heart was filled with heroic courage to accept the challenges and opportunities ahead...

Like a major multi-part television series, the coordinated interplay of various actors unfolded around the organization and implementation of this significant national key project: The State Oceanic Administration, the office of the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association, and especially the overall project group led by Liu Feng committed themselves fully. Scene followed scene, and one element seamlessly interlocked with the next as the great drama unfolded. The most urgent and paramount task initially consisted of developing through intensive discussions the “Report on the Justification of the Overall Concept for the 7,000-meter Deep-sea Submersible with Crew” and submitting it for approval.

In fact, this important work had already begun the moment the idea of developing a deep-sea submersible with great diving depth was first proposed. As mentioned earlier, the 702nd Research Institute of the China Shipbuilding Industry Corporation had already submitted a similar report, which at that time had not yet received practical implementation. But now that the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association had appeared as a concrete user, a new hopeful situation emerged—as the saying goes: “Behind dark willows and withered flowers opens another village”—and the project was included as a major key project in the national “863 Plan.” Naturally, the main responsibility for drafting this report again fell to the 702nd Research Institute of CSIC. The leading scientific figures were Wu Yousheng and Xu Binghan, two academicians of the Chinese Academy of Engineering Sciences at the 702nd Research Institute, who also belonged to the first scientists who had strongly advocated for the development of Chinese manned deep-sea submersibles.

Wu Yousheng, born in 1942, came from Wuzhou in Zhejiang Province. In 1968, he completed his graduate studies in the Faculty of Technical Mechanics at the renowned Tsinghua University and was assigned to the Chinese Center for Ship Scientific Research (the predecessor organization of the 702nd Institute) in the laboratory for structural mechanics. Although he found himself in a time full of political turmoil and social upheaval, Wu Yousheng—like many other ambitious scientists—was not discouraged and did not fall into resignation, but rather used every available opportunity for learning and practical work. In the early 1980s, Professor Bishop, the internationally esteemed founder of two-dimensional hydroelastic mechanics theory from the University of London, had come to China by invitation to give lectures. To his great surprise, he discovered that Wu Yousheng had already reached a very high level of research. Out of deep appreciation for Wu Yousheng's talent, when Professor Bishop learned that he would soon depart for a study visit to the USA, he immediately suggested that he come to Britain instead and offered to help with all administrative formalities and study costs.

In June 1981, Wu Yousheng reached London and was firmly determined to achieve a significant academic breakthrough under these excellent conditions. He worked daily more than a dozen hours, knowing neither Sundays nor holidays. When he finally presented his first research results to his doctoral supervisor Professor Bishop, the latter felt genuine joy and deep satisfaction. When Wu Yousheng stood before the completed, voluminous dissertation that reflected three years of intensive intellectual work and tireless commitment, and before that dedication page on which, according to Western tradition, one usually thanks close family members or parents, he was filled with deep emotions. After a moment of thoughtful pause, he typed with great seriousness in English that sentence he had long carried in his heart: “Dedicated to my fatherland!”

In October 1984, the defense of his doctoral thesis took place at Brunel University London, and the examination process was in full swing.

“I notice that you write here 'Dedicated to my fatherland'—and not a name with a capital initial letter, as would be customary. Is that correct?” asked Professor Reynolds, the chairman of the examination committee, kindly and with interest, while looking at the English line on the dedication page of Wu Yousheng's dissertation.

“Yes, that is correct,” answered Wu Yousheng with a firm, determined voice.

“Do you plan to stay in Britain then? There are excellent research and living conditions here!” asked Dr. Smith, another member of the examination committee, cautiously probing.

“I am deeply grateful to the university and my teachers for their great appreciation. But my fatherland needs me, and in China I still have many research works that are not completed,” Wu Yousheng answered politely but firmly.

“Your fatherland can be proud of you!” said Professor Reynolds, moved. Obviously, he was deeply touched by the deep, genuine love this young scholar had for his homeland, and he spontaneously stood up to shake Wu Yousheng's hand and express his recognition.

Wu Yousheng's doctoral supervisor, Professor Bishop, deeply regretted his departure but also understood his feelings very well and wrote a warm, enthusiastic letter to the director of the 702nd Institute. “We will soon lose Wu Yousheng, while you will regain him. When you see his dissertation, you will find that it is truly a masterpiece, proving that Wu Yousheng is a first-class expert in the field of hydroelasticity and ship mechanics.”

Upon his return to China, Wu Yousheng used the 120 pounds he had saved through frugal living and sacrifice to buy six acceleration sensors that were at that time the most advanced in the world, which he donated to the 702nd Institute for experimental purposes. Later, under his influence and leadership, China finally developed an internationally respected research team in the field of hydroelasticity. In 1992, Wu Yousheng assumed the position of director of the 702nd Institute of CSIC, and in 1994 he was elected to the first generation of the Chinese Academy of Engineering Sciences. Faced with success and recognition, Wu Yousheng worked even harder and with greater dedication. The never-extinguishing light in his study became a special, unique sight on the scenic shore of beautiful Taihu Lake.

Similarly, Xu Binghan was also such an outstanding, exemplary scientist. He was nine years older than Wu Yousheng. On August 21, 1933, he was born into a simple, ordinary family in a rural village in Zhejiang Province. His family gave him the name Binghan, hoping that he would one day be successful and become an upright, honorable man. Unfortunately, both parents died when he was still a small child, and he spent his childhood under the care of his two older sisters.

Only the founding of the People's Republic of China made it possible for such a poor boy to receive a university education. In 1955, after his graduation from Shanghai Jiaotong University, he was selected to study as a postgraduate student at the Leningrad Shipbuilding Academy in the Soviet Union, where he also worked in the teaching group for ship structural mechanics. He quickly felt like a fish in water and swam joyfully in the ocean of knowledge. Xu Binghan often said: “The poor life of my youth steeled my will for hard work and steady advancement, and the years abroad developed my ability for independent living and independent problem research.”

On a spring evening in early 1961, the Leningrad radio's evening news service reported the news that Chinese student Xu Binghan had passed his doctoral examination unanimously and received the degree of Candidate of Sciences (PhD equivalent). His teachers and fellow students congratulated him warmly and asked him to stay and work there. Xu Binghan's gaze wandered through the room where he had studied for four and a half years, and when he caught sight of the model of a Chinese junk on his desk, it touched a deep nerve within him. The glorious but also humiliation-marked history of Chinese seafaring made emotions well up within him: Ships! Shipbuilding! Let us erect an indestructible Great Wall of steel on the sea!

After his return to China, Xu Binghan was assigned to the Seventh Research Academy of the Ministry of Defense, where he devoted himself to research in the fields of fluid mechanics and structural mechanics.

Despite all the political turmoil and social storms of the time, his will to serve the fatherland through science and technology remained always unshakable and unchanging. Later he was appointed head of the structural research laboratory at the 702nd Institute.

In several significant experiments that were of crucial importance for the development of Chinese submarines, he performed numerous groundbreaking, innovative works. The research projects he led were awarded a national second-class prize and two national third-class prizes. In 1997, at the age of 67, Xu Binghan was elected to the Chinese Academy of Engineering Sciences.

Actually, it was the case that with China's growing maritime awareness and the founding of the China Ocean Mineral Resources Research and Development Association, which was recognized by the United Nations as the fifth pioneer investor for deep-sea mining and took on the exploration task for 300,000 square kilometers of ocean floor, the unmanned autonomous submersible CV-01, in which Xu Qinan was involved, made good progress. The shipbuilding experts of the 702nd Institute, represented by the two academicians Wu Yousheng and Xu Binghan, clearly recognized the country's needs and strongly advocated for the development of a deep-sea submersible with great diving depth and crew. Unfortunately, the timing was not yet quite right, and they received only the answer: “Let's wait a bit longer...”

This waiting lasted almost a full decade. But now the tide had turned—how could they not be overjoyed and commit themselves with all their strength? They immediately organized their forces, planned thoroughly and in detail, and under the organizational coordination of Jin Jiancai, Liu Feng, and others from the China Ocean Mineral Resources Association, they developed a rigorously scientific, practically implementable “Report on the Justification of the Overall Concept for the 7,000-meter Deep-sea Submersible.” One can say that this was the embryonic origin of the later national treasure “Jiaolong,” and at the same time an “operations plan” that deserves to be preserved in the national archives.

The 7,000-meter submersible with crew consists of the submersible main body itself as well as the support system of the mother ship.

The submersible main body comprises the integration of the submersible's overall performance, the hydrodynamic system, the carrier structure system, the weight regulation system, the emergency and safety system, the power source system, the hydraulic system, the work system, the control system, the communication and location system, the observation system, and the life support system. Development and manufacturing were assigned to the 702nd and 701st Institutes of CSIC as well as the Institute of Acoustics and the Shenyang Institute of Automation of the Chinese Academy of Sciences.

The mother ship support system was to be ensured and provided by the user of the 7,000-meter submersible—the China Ocean Mineral Resources Association.

In addition, the report analyzed the technical characteristics of comparable submersibles from the USA, Japan, France, and other countries, examined the market situation for buoyancy materials, optical instruments, manufacturing technologies, and other aspects on the international market, and pointed out that by utilizing the valuable experience of the international deep-sea scientific community, adhering to the principle of need-oriented development and the combination of technology import and independent development, it was practically feasible to advance Chinese deep-sea submersible technology at a high level and with a leapfrog developmental jump. They had the confidence and ability to develop by 2005 a manned submersible that fully met user requirements.

On December 23, 2001, the High-Tech Department of the Ministry of Science and Technology and the key project group of the “863 Plan” organized an evaluation conference in Beijing at which the “Report on the Justification of the Overall Concept for the 7,000-meter Submersible with Crew” was approved. This essentially meant issuing the birth certificate for China's major manned deep-sea submersible, and the curtain rose for a carefully organized and executed battle for the deep-sea submersible...

The great curtain opened...

II. The Retired “Old Marshal” Returns to the Stage

“When in the East the sun sets, it shines in the West.” This is a folk saying, but it very vividly describes the basic characteristic of our planet Earth on which we live:

The continuous rotation and revolution. While people in China were still working intensively during a bright, busy day, in the United States in the western hemisphere, with a time difference of thirteen hours, deep night already reigned, and the starry sky spread its dark blanket.

One evening in early 2002, as people were preparing for their night's rest after a strenuous day, an overseas call from China reached the United States. The call was received by an elderly gentleman whose name was Xu Qinan. This is one of the main actors who has already been mentioned several times in this text—a researcher at the 702nd Research Institute of the China Shipbuilding Industry Corporation. At this time, he had already been retired for six years and was living with his wife Fang Zhifen at his son's place in the USA to spend his twilight years in peace. But this one telephone call made the tree of his life bloom with new flowers...

Wu Yousheng, academician of the Chinese Academy of Engineering Sciences and former director of the 702nd Institute, informed Xu Qinan on the telephone: “Old friend and comrade, the 7,000-meter submersible project has been approved! We've thought it over carefully and have come to the conclusion that we absolutely must bring you back—the position of chief designer belongs to no one but you!”

“Really?! That's wonderful!” exclaimed Xu Qinan. For him, the submersible was a connection he could never give up. Previously, he had worked on nearly all types of submersibles—tethered and untethered, unmanned and manned. However, developing a manned submersible with great diving depth was his long-cherished, unfulfilled wish: “I will definitely participate. However, I'm already older—it would suffice if I functioned as an advisor.”

After he hung up, Xu Qinan was so excited that he paced back and forth in the room, called his wife and son, and asked them to book flight tickets immediately—he could hardly wait to fly back to China the very next day. But his family was worried: This year he was already 66 years old and also suffered from heart disease, high blood pressure, migraines, and various other ailments. One eye had only light perception left. When he had returned after the sea test of the 6,000-meter underwater robot, it had been discovered that his heart showed more than 1,600 extrasystoles per day—it was high time that he rested!

“That the project you've waited for so many years has finally been approved is naturally joyful—but will your body be able to handle it?” asked his wife Fang Zhifen, who had also worked at the 702nd Institute. She knew her husband's wish only too well, but was also aware of the torments his illnesses caused him, and found herself suddenly in a painful dilemma.

“Dad, you shouldn't overexert yourself. If you ruin your body, you'll not only suffer yourself but also impair the project's progress. We're against you going back,” his son and daughter-in-law declared their opposition decisively.

Xu Qinan waved it off and said: “You only know one side, but not the other. When I think about submersibles, my headache disappears, and my blood pressure drops too. As long as I can work on submersibles for our country, I feel physically well and satisfied.”

For a while, neither could convince the other. Late into the night, the moon had risen, large and round. The couple Xu Qinan hadn't the slightest trace of fatigue, and they continued conversing in soft tones, taking turns speaking. Fang Zhifen, a graduate of the East China Institute of Technology, embodied the qualities of both a scientist and a housewife. Throughout all these years, she had not only taken over all the housework but had also performed extensive support work for her husband's scientific career. That the manned deep-sea submersible project had finally been approved filled her too with joy and enthusiasm. Only her husband's health filled her with deep concern!

“I know this opportunity is extraordinarily important, but still...” began Fang Zhifen, but she broke off and didn't complete the sentence. She thought of the deceased Academician Jiang Xinsong, who had committed himself to developing Chinese underwater robots and had died suddenly at exactly 66 years of age due to overwork. The words that stuck in her throat like a lump finally came out: “Qinan, you're also 66 years old this year, and your health isn't good either. Although Academician Jiang received many honors after his death, I simply want you to stay healthy...”

Hardly had she spoken this sentence when Fang Zhifen already regretted it—how could she make such “ill-omened” comparisons? But Xu Qinan understood the feelings of his wife, with whom he had lived side by side for half a century, only too well. This seemingly “inauspicious” sentence concealed such deep love! He took his wife's hand and held it firmly: “Don't worry. If I'm not allowed to participate in this project and brood over it all day, that could harm my health even more. When we successfully complete this project, the late brother Xinsong and many other predecessors in heaven will be happy. Besides, I have you! You are my lucky star!”

“You too...” answered Fang Zhifen. Her husband's words had untied the knot in her heart, and her expression brightened from cloudy to sunny.

Xu Qinan went to the floor-to-ceiling window, drew back the heavy curtains, and a ray of bright moonlight fell into the bedroom—it felt as if the homeland was stretching out its warm, longing hands toward him. He turned to his wife, nodded to her, and then pointed outside. Fang Zhifen understood and smiled gently, came quietly to him and nestled into the crook of his arm. For a long time the two stood there gazing at the round moon outside, while their hearts had already returned to the banks of the Yangtze River and the shores of Taihu Lake...

Two days later, Xu Qinan and his wife convinced their son and daughter-in-law to help them with the formalities. They gave up the quiet, comfortable retired life and flew together back to China to devote themselves to the research, development, and trials of the 7,000-meter submersible.

Actually, the national “863 Plan” had an age requirement for the position of chief designer of a project: active engineers and technical staff were not allowed to be older than 60 years. Xu Qinan had also prepared himself to function as an advisor—it would suffice for him if he could just participate in this project. But after thorough analysis, everyone came to the conclusion that he was best suited. A chief designer must possess two basic qualities: first, comprehensive professional competence, and second, strong coordination abilities. Xu Qinan fulfilled both requirements.

Liu Feng, the head of the overall project group responsible for organizing the research efforts, had already met Xu Qinan in the early 1990s through the development of unmanned autonomous submersibles and was deeply impressed by his knowledge and character. As soon as the major 7,000-meter submersible project had been approved, Liu Feng first thought of this experienced expert and strongly advocated for him to take on the position of chief designer. But since Chief Engineer Xu had already been retired for many years, implementation wasn't easy. Liu Feng, thirsting for talent, called the then institute director Du Huanqiu directly and said half-jokingly, half-seriously: “If you don't bring Mr. Xu back, who knows who will ultimately take on this project!”

“Ha, ha, you don't need to use a provocation strategy—great minds think alike, we've long since thought of him.”

Indeed, after Xu Qinan agreed to “return from retirement,” the 702nd Institute of CSIC and the overall project group jointly submitted a report to the responsible authority. The leadership of the Ministry of Science and Technology carefully examined the matter and approved an exception: The already 66-year-old Xu Qinan was appointed chief designer of the 7,000-meter submersible. This term of office would last a full ten years...

Some say the life height of Xu Qinan can almost be measured by the diving depths of Chinese deep-sea submersibles:

600 meters, 1,000 meters, 3,000 meters, 6,000 meters, 7,000 meters! One can say that with every advance of Chinese manned deep diving, his outstanding contribution can be found. His dreams became deeper with the dives of the submersibles and penetrated into ever bluer, deeper marine areas.

Yes, how many people can look back on such a weighty, meaningful life? From the bloom of youth to the gray-haired old man in advanced age, from simple submarine sailor to world-class chief designer of manned submersibles—through Xu Qinan's entire life journey ran only a single main line: Deep diving! Leading the submersibles of the fatherland into the depths of the sea to admire the mysterious panoramas of the ocean floor and explore the infinite treasures of the ocean.

Xu Qinan comes from Zhenhai in Ningbo, Zhejiang Province, and was born in March 1936—in a time when “the country was destroyed, yet mountains and rivers remained, and in the city in spring grass and trees grew luxuriantly.” Zhenhai lies at the estuary where the river flows into the sea. Zhaobu Mountain is called the “first mountain in eastern Zhejiang,” strategically well-positioned and since ancient times an important coastal defense point. During the Opium Wars, the imperial commissioner Yu Qian supervised and commanded the defense there and stubbornly resisted the British invasion troops. Finally, the overwhelmingly superior enemies broke through Zhenhai's fortifications, and Yu Qian threw himself into the sea and died as a martyr for his country. This humiliation—having a sea without defense and taking beatings because of backwardness—impressed itself deeply into Xu Qinan's soul, and he developed from childhood the resolution to study diligently and one day serve his country through science.

On February 19, 1953, Chairman Mao Zedong visited the ship “Changjiang” of the East Sea Fleet, warmly met young sailors, had his photo taken with them, and wrote an inspiring dedication: “To resist imperialist aggression, we must absolutely build a strong navy!” That year, the just 17-year-old Xu Qinan had graduated from Shanghai Nanyang Model High School, and deeply inspired, he further solidified his dream of becoming a shipbuilding engineer to protect the maritime coasts. He was admitted as desired to the shipbuilding faculty of Shanghai Jiaotong University.

The four and a half years at university gave Xu Qinan a solid theoretical foundation. Upon assignment after graduation, he expressed the wish for a ship design institute or shipyard, because he wanted with all his heart to build large ships for his country with his own hands. Unexpectedly, however, he was assigned to the Chinese Center for Ship Scientific Research (the predecessor of the 702nd Institute). He thought it was just a research facility and sought out the teacher responsible for assignments to request a change. The teacher said: “Research also includes design, and others want to go there but can't! When you're there, you'll understand.”

“Is that so? Then I'll follow the assignment.” At that time, the construction of China's navy and defense research were developing rapidly, but the foundations were weak and technology was lacking—scientific and technical breakthroughs were urgently needed. After Xu Qinan arrived at the ship research institute, he was sent for submarine experiments. Originally, his graduation project had dealt with “surface ships,” but now he had to change his direction. However, when he thought of the country's needs, Xu Qinan had no objections, and so his career shifted from water to beneath the water's surface.

In the 1980s, the USA, France, Russia, and Japan successively developed manned deep-sea submersibles of the 4,000- to 6,500-meter class. While China's marine technology was also developing strongly, Xu Qinan, as chief designer, led the technical specialists from five units, including the 702nd Research Institute of CSIC, and successfully completed the development of China's first single-seat atmospheric-pressure submersible and a dual-function atmospheric-pressure submersible, which reached the then internationally advanced level.

In the late 1980s, Xu Qinan was appointed chief designer of the entire shipbuilding conglomerate and proposed a technical concept to catch up with and surpass the international top level: mastering tethered underwater robot technology with fiber-optic communication. This was a powerful, tethered unmanned work diving robot, designed primarily for rescue operations but also supporting the development of oil and gas resources at sea. From 1992 on, Xu Qinan took on, at the invitation of Jiang Xinsong, the leading scientist in automation of the “863 Plan,” the additional position of chief designer of the 6,000-meter autonomous underwater robot and achieved a resounding success.

“Unmanned and manned, tethered and untethered... I've developed almost all types of submersibles. The only thing I wanted to do but had no opportunity for was a manned deep-sea submersible with great diving depth,” said Xu Qinan not without regret.

In the second half of the 20th century, deep-sea technology was regarded as a high-tech field that ranked equally with space technology and the use of nuclear energy, and manned deep-sea submersibles were considered the pinnacle of ocean development and maritime technology. In 1996, at the age of sixty, Xu Qinan reluctantly completed his retirement formalities, assuming that his lifelong aspiration would thereby be put on ice. But often hope appears just when one turns the corner.

Six years after his retirement, Xu Qinan received the opportunity to return to service, took on the position of chief designer of the 7,000-meter-class submersible, and led a group of young and middle-aged researchers to continue writing the legend of deep diving in this great era and to realize both the depth of his career and the height of his life...

III. Dedicated Men Gather in Wuxi

Wuxi, which enjoys the reputation of the “Pearl of Taihu Lake,” lies in the heart of the Yangtze Delta plain, borders the Yangtze to the north and Taihu Lake to the south, and has since ancient times been a beautiful, fertile land of fish and rice. Today, Wuxi is also widely known as the birthplace of China's manned submersible “Jiaolong.”

The 702nd Research Institute of the China Shipbuilding Industry Corporation, briefly CSIC 702, which is responsible for the development and final assembly of “Jiaolong,” lies on the scenic shore of Taihu Lake in Wuxi. It extends over several kilometers between mountains and water, is large-scale in layout, equipped with comprehensive facilities, and can be called one of the largest ship research facilities in the Far East. On the tall, imposing research building stand eight striking large characters: “Serve the fatherland through shipbuilding, excel through innovation.”

On October 17, 2002, it suddenly became lively on the normally quiet grounds of the 702nd Institute, as scientific elites from Beijing, Shenyang, Wuhan, Nanjing, Hangzhou, Canton, Qingdao, and other places gathered here to participate in a conference of milestone significance.

In the dignified and spacious conference room of the administration building, there assembled Ni Yuefeng, deputy director of the State Oceanic Administration, Chen Bingxin, chairman of the board of the China Ocean Association, Feng Jichun, director of the High-Tech Department of the Ministry of Science and Technology, Mao Bin, secretary general of the Ocean Association, Du Huanqiu, director of the 702nd Research Institute of CSIC, as well as research personnel from the Institute of Acoustics of CAS, the Shenyang Institute of Automation, and Institutes 702 and 701.

A banner with red background and yellow inscription hung high above the presidium: Founding Meeting of the Overall Project Group and the Chief Designer Group for the 7,000-meter Submersible. It turned out that the key project group of the national “863 Plan” and the China Ocean Association had officially approved the membership lists of both groups and were today solemnly announcing their founding.

The head of the overall project group was Liu Feng, and the members were Xu Qinan, Wan Zhengquan, Zhang Aiqun, Wu Chongjian, and Zhu Weiqing. The chief designer group was led by Xu Qinan as chief designer, Wan Zhengquan as deputy chief designer (later replaced by Cui Weicheng, director and researcher at the 702nd Institute), Wang Xiaohui (director of the underwater robot laboratory at the Shenyang Institute of Automation, researcher) as deputy chief designer for the control system, Zhu Min (associate researcher at the Institute of Acoustics) as deputy chief designer for the acoustic system, Wu Chongjian (director of the 701st Institute, researcher) as deputy chief designer for the surface support system, Liu Tao (associate researcher at the 702nd Institute) as deputy chief designer for structural design, Hu Zhen (head of the underwater engineering laboratory at the 702nd Institute, associate researcher) as deputy chief designer for energy and equipment systems.

The moderator announced: “Now I ask the members of the overall project group to come forward to receive their appointment certificates!”

Liu Feng, standing in the prime of his life, stepped forward first, received from the hands of Secretary General Mao Bin the large red appointment certificate, firmly shook his hand, turned and looked into the hall, where hearty and admiring applause surged toward him. But attentive observers noticed that he only smiled briefly and his face quickly became serious again. In his heart he knew clearly: This was not a recognition or prize certificate, but rather a “military order”!

Why did such an important conference—one could say, the official kickoff event and oath ceremony of the major 7,000-meter submersible project (at this time our national treasure had not yet been named “Jiaolong”)—take place in a research institute in Wuxi? Because it was the womb and headquarters for the birth of Chinese manned deep-sea submersibles.

In the past, the manned submersibles developed by China had only reached a depth of 600 meters. Going from 600 meters to 7,000 meters was an extremely difficult chasm to overcome. According to the design concept, the project leadership group and the overall project group clearly established the division of labor: The 702nd Institute of CSIC was responsible for the design, processing, and final assembly of the main body; the Shenyang Institute of Automation of CAS for the automation system; the Institute of Acoustics of CAS for the underwater communication system; the 701st Institute of CSIC for the surface support system; the North Sea Branch of the State Oceanic Administration for the conversion of the test mother ship. In addition, the research team consisted of the 725th and 750th Institutes of CSIC, Factory 6971, Qingdao Hailiya Group, Henan Xinxiang Battery Research Institute, and other units that together began the development path of “Jiaolong.”

Thereby, the underwater engineering research laboratory of the 702nd Institute under the leadership of Chief Designer Xu Qinan bore the heavy responsibility for shaping the submersible main body and final adjustment. To this end, the 702nd Institute established a special leadership group and office for the 7,000-meter submersible. The entire institute worked together as one unit to overcome the difficult challenges with united forces. Xu Qinan gathered everyone and explained openly: “This is a systems project. To complete such a project, in my opinion, the following words are most important: Overall perspective and coordinated planning.”

These words sound simple, but their practical implementation was extraordinarily difficult. Chief Designer Xu approached the matter calmly and prudently, mobilized his entire life's work and experience, discussed intensively with institute experts and scholars like Wu Yousheng and Xu Binghan, fully utilized collective wisdom, and strictly adhered to the development procedure “design concept, expert consultation, prototype tests, practical verification” to ensure that the basic design concept “able to descend, able to work; able to ascend, ensure safety” was fully implemented.

The greatest difficulty at that time was the personnel shortage. The underwater engineering research laboratory of the 702nd Institute found itself precisely in a “talent gap phase.” For the development of “Jiaolong,” the leadership team already needed several people: chief designer, deputy chief designers, chief quality manager... In addition, the deep-sea submersible comprised twelve subsystems, each of which needed a main design person responsible. Moreover, due to international technology blockade, they had to handle everything themselves from original planning to final sea test. How should this research and development team be built up?

This time, Xu Qinan invested many times more dedication than in previous positions as chief designer. “The main task of a chief designer consists of creating a good top-level design, but even more important is to train a young team in practical deployment,” said Xu Qinan, speaking these words already like a field marshal who designs strategies in the command tent and plans victory a thousand miles away. He consulted with the first deputy chief designer and deputy institute director Cui Weicheng, brought back several already retired experienced researchers as advisors, and intensified the training of young people, to whom he entrusted important responsibility.

The first deputy chief designer Cui Weicheng is also a personality of legendary character. He comes from Haimen in Jiangsu Province and completed his studies at the Faculty of Technical Mechanics at Tsinghua University in 1986. He was selected for postgraduate study at the 702nd Institute, but just two months later he was sent to the University of Bristol in Britain, where he earned his doctorate and subsequently conducted postdoctoral research. In 1993, Cui Weicheng, driven by patriotic dedication, returned, declined high-paying offers from abroad, and embarked on the homeward journey with his wife.

Having grown up by the sea, with experiences where he went into the sea to fish when hungry and swam when hot, Cui Weicheng understood that the ocean is rich in resources and set himself the goal of devoting himself to the maritime cause. Since his university days, besides his academic progress, he especially revered Li Shutong and regarded him as a life model: “His honest, trustworthy personality and his word that counts like gold have deeply influenced me,” said Cui Weicheng.

After his return to China, he successively held the positions of head of the research and experimental department, researcher and doctoral supervisor at the Chinese Center for Ship Scientific Research. In April 1999, he was hired by the School of Naval Architecture, Ocean and Civil Engineering at Shanghai Jiaotong University as a “Changjiang Scholar” professor and deputy dean. In 2002, with the approval of the 7,000-meter submersible project, Cui Weicheng was appointed director of the 702nd Institute to assist Chief Designer Xu Qinan in overcoming difficult tasks. Later, when he came to the conclusion that he must devote himself fully to research and development, he resolutely resigned from the position of director and took on the position of deputy director.

Many friends advised him: “It's not necessary to resign—if you organize the work well, you can devote yourself to the project just the same!”

“That's not the same!” Cui Weicheng shook his head decisively. “When one holds a position, one must bear the responsibility associated with it. If I'm only deputy director, I have more time to better conduct research and perform experiments.”

This is the mentality of a scientist—in a time when “office orientation” is widespread, Cui Weicheng's decision deserves great respect.

When they began developing the 7,000-meter submersible, however, this was truly a new start from the ground up. The entire main body group had only Xu Qinan, who had visited a manned submersible abroad, but even he had never participated in a dive. The others had only seen it in photos or video recordings—nobody knew what it looked like inside a submersible. To give everyone initially a basic understanding, Xu Qinan learned that Professor Chen Ying from Zhejiang University had once visited Japan and inspected the interior of the “Shinkai 6500” submersible, and thereupon organized the main designers of the various systems—like Hu Zhen, Liu Tao, Ye Cong, Cheng Fei, and others—for a visit.

Since everyone wanted to learn as much as possible, each had prepared numerous questions—some had printed out several large A4 pages. The group of more than a dozen people traveled together to West Lake and surrounded Professor Chen Ying, asking questions in confusion. At first, Professor Chen was somewhat “startled” and thought something had happened! But then it became clear to him that he was deeply moved by the research passion of his scientific colleagues, and he willingly revealed everything he knew—he essentially “poured the beans out of the bamboo tube” and presented everything openly.

“Look, these are photos I took of 'Shinkai 6500.' The exterior resembles 'Alvin,' only at these spots some changes have been made...”

“What principle do they use for their navigation design?”

“How is the internal power distribution system constructed?”

The designers with different specializations were most interested in information from their respective fields and fired off their questions like from a machine gun.

“That... honestly, back then I didn't think we'd start on this so soon, so I didn't pay particular attention to the submersible itself, but only concentrated on my research direction.”

“Then please tell us more about your most memorable impressions, Professor Chen!”

“Good, good!” Chen Ying tried, based on the photos taken at that time, to remember and describe as well as possible...

Although the trip to Hangzhou didn't bring many insights, it did give the visitors from the 702nd Institute a certain sensory understanding. After their return, they discussed lively and in detail under the leadership of Xu Qinan, Cui Weicheng, and others, each thought through their own concepts, and then created a scale 1:1 model from steel frame and wood, which they laid out flat in that red brick workshop. The designers of the various subsystems gathered around this “makeshift thing” and felt their way step by step, discussing, sometimes furrowing their brows and thinking for hours without thinking of food or drink; sometimes getting into heated, controversial debates in which their faces turned red.

According to the pressure formula, at a water depth of 7,000 meters, the pressure would reach 700 kilograms per square centimeter, meaning each square meter would have to withstand a pressure of 7,000 tons. Steel plates that are robust and solid on land would become “soft” like paper under these conditions and yield to the pressure of seawater that crushes and folds them. What material would enable “Jiaolong” to become a true Chinese dragon underwater?

Unlike space stations that can use solar energy, a deep-sea submersible on the ocean floor relies exclusively on its onboard energy. Immersed in electrically conductive seawater, the battery system as the submersible's power source must withstand even harder tests.

In total, there are several hundred electrical cables and lines throughout the submersible, and some faults only occur under the water pressure of several thousand meters depth at sea. When the submersible returns, the condition of the cables has already changed, and it's very difficult to still locate the source of the fault. What to do?

Behind every hard-to-crack technical problem stand countless attempts, setbacks, improvements, and progress. The various teams worked with division of labor but not separately, gave their heart's blood, strove for perfection, and explored step by step how they could overcome one hurdle after another.

Many years later, Xu Qinan recalled: “This submersible has twelve different subsystems, and each one of these subsystems exhibits its own specific technical difficulties. Each individual problem absolutely had to be solved—there could be no weak point. Through countless simulation analyses and model experiments, we finally succeeded in seamlessly connecting and integrating all twelve systems technically...”

To comprehensively organize and coordinate the work on the twelve subsystems of the manned submersible, he developed, based on his many years of work experience and through intensive research and practical cooperation with other technicians and managers, a further refined four-element analysis method that considered input, output, constraints, and support. With it, he coordinated and fixed the technical and administrative interfaces between all subsystems. He connected the time points, framework conditions, and performance parameters of each individual subsystem with one another, created detailed tables from them, and worked strictly according to these tables—which enormously increased efficiency and quality of work.

If the manned submersible was to freely ascend and descend in the ocean, it needed, according to conventional construction, a sufficient power source—but this would undoubtedly significantly increase the weight of the submersible, and a weight increase would inevitably negatively influence the technical parameters of the entire submersible. Finally, the designers decided on “powerless diving and ascending technology.”

Xu Qinan explained: “We attached four ballast iron blocks on both sides of the submersible, whose weight can be adjusted according to different depths and requirements. During the diving process, the ballast iron blocks give the submersible negative buoyancy, so it sinks at a certain speed. When the submersible has reached the set depth, two of the ballast iron blocks can be jettisoned, whereby the submersible is essentially in a state of zero buoyancy and can conduct its work at this depth—including navigation, photography, sampling, and so on. After completion of the mission, the two remaining ballast iron blocks are jettisoned, whereby the submersible receives positive buoyancy and rises to the water surface at a certain speed.”

According to this design, the maximum diving and ascending speed of “Jiaolong” per minute is 42 meters—meaning to reach an ocean depth of 7,000 meters, about three hours are needed. But even when one descends, one must directly face the complex ocean conditions: At a depth of 7,000 meters, all equipment aboard the manned submersible must withstand deep-sea pressure equivalent to 70 megapascals, and at the same time resist corrosion by seawater.

In addition, technologies for the transmission of voice, text, and images were needed—inside the deep-sea submersible, a complete underwater acoustic communication system, an underwater acoustic location system, a video system, an automatic control system, and much more had to be installed. All this required our “dragon team” to plan carefully, cooperate closely, and act coordinately to succeed.

Over a full five years, dedicated men from all directions gathered in Wuxi. Besides the members of the main body group of the 702nd Institute, who were busy day by day in design offices and workshops, scientists and researchers also came from the Acoustic Institute of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, from the Shenyang Institute of Automation, from the North Sea Branch, and other facilities, who “camped out” and worked here for months. Even the gatekeepers at reception and the cooks in the canteen finally believed these people had been permanently transferred to their facility and called them familiarly by names like “Old Zhang” or “Little Li.”

In this way, China's manned deep-sea submersible grew and strengthened step by step through these “Chinese methods” and “assault battles”...

IV. The Overall Project Group Mobilizes at Home and Abroad

The troops divided onto different paths, and on another front, work proceeded day and night with highest intensity...

Since the opening ceremony, the overall project group for the 7,000-meter manned submersible based in Beijing had taken up its intensive and busy activity. The members divided up areas of responsibility and worked simultaneously forward: Xu Qinan and Cui Weicheng were responsible for the construction of the submersible main body and overall assembly as well as system coordination, Wu Chongjian led with Yu Jianxun and others from the 701st Institute the surface support system, Zhang Aiqun and Wang Xiaohui organized at the Shenyang Institute of Automation the control of the submersible, and Zhu Weiqing led students like Zhu Min in developing the underwater acoustic communication equipment.

Group leader Liu Feng functioned like the director of a major film: He oversaw and coordinated the overall project and was responsible for all aspects of the submersible—from construction and manufacturing through materials and finances to personnel training and sea tests for acceptance. Upward he reported to the Ministry of Science and Technology, the State Ocean Administration, the Ocean Association, and the leadership group for major projects; downward he coordinated the assault troops distributed throughout the country; horizontally he took care of connections and coordination with all participating units as well as negotiations and contract signings for international cooperation. Everyone affectionately called him the “chief helmsman.”

According to incomplete statistics, a total of 103 units participated in research and development—including research institutes, universities, and enterprises from North and South China—which were divided into four major systems, essentially corresponding to four army corps: First, research, development, and testing of the submersible main body; second, the surface support system, including conversion of the mother ship and deployment equipment; third, the system for submersible pilots—an important component of the manned submersible, from recruitment to training; and fourth, the application system—after the submersible was developed, it had to be considered how it would be deployed, who would manage, maintain, and operate it.

All four systems were indispensable—only through their organic connection could the manned submersible unfold its true effect, and precisely this was the most important task of the overall project group. Each individual work contained countless ups and downs, joys and sorrows. In what follows, the author recounts, based on interviews, some small stories that provide insight into the difficulties and working conditions of these individuals.

1. The Magical Power of Alcohol

“Cheers! Esteemed Director! In China there's an old saying: Even if the business doesn't work out, the friendship remains—we'll stay friends, please drink!”

“Good, good, that's true, but we're all very busy and didn't come here especially to drink...”

In a private room of a star hotel in Beijing, a special dinner was taking place. On one side sat members of the China Ocean Association and the overall project group for the 7,000-meter manned submersible: the deputy director of the Ocean Bureau and group leader Liu Feng, Chinese intermediaries, and others. On the other side sat Russian representatives led by Academician Laviorolov, director of the Krylov Shipbuilding Research Institute in St. Petersburg, and Professor Pilayev, the deputy director. Although the Chinese side served the best domestic high-proof white liquors and the hosts constantly toasted, the normally drink-loving Russians couldn't develop any real mood and only drank their sorrow with lowered heads.

The reason lay in failed negotiations that had ended unhappily.

Our manned submersible pursued the path of independent construction and integrated innovation—we stood at the forefront of global high technology, purchased materials on the international market, placed manufacturing orders, and thus realized our own design concepts. This was substantially faster than waiting for domestic manufacturing technology and materials to reach world-leading levels. This was a common procedure in international scientific circles. The manned pressure sphere had to be made from titanium alloy—with high strength, low specific weight, and high-pressure and corrosion resistance. After careful consideration and comparison, the overall project group decided to commission the Russian Krylov Shipbuilding Research Institute with the manufacturing, which possessed excellent manufacturing technology and successful experience. To this end, a delegation from the Ocean Association under Liu Feng's leadership traveled to Russia multiple times for visits and negotiations until they finally reached a certain agreement on price, standards, and delivery dates, and then invited the Russians to Beijing for final confirmation and signing.

Due to historical and current reasons, the Russian experts were willing to cooperate with the Chinese side and jointly develop a manned deep-sea submersible. A delegation of seven people, including two directors, came to China highly pleased. After a week of friendly consultations, they had agreed on all cooperation details such as payment methods and delivery dates. The Ocean Association office decided to organize a formal and solemn signing ceremony with major media coverage to set a good start for the construction of China's manned deep-sea submersible.

Unexpectedly, however, there was a blockage at the responsible leadership level: “The project approval is still going through the final procedural stage—don't sign for now.”

With this one sentence, the overall project group that had concretely participated in the negotiations found itself in a difficult position: Technically, everything had already been negotiated—one couldn't lose one's credibility in international cooperation! But they also couldn't tell the Russian side the truth and therefore had to employ delaying tactics by inviting them for sightseeing or rest. One day passed, two days passed, but still no answer came. The Russians noticed that a problem had arisen on the Chinese side. At a meeting, Director Laviorolov threw down his notebook, his face darkened, and he said: “We won't negotiate further! I'm the institute director and still have many tasks at home—I don't have time to wait here idly. Book return flight tickets for tomorrow immediately!”

With a clamor, several Russians pushed back their chairs and stood up to leave. This made the Chinese side somewhat nervous, because they had negotiated the contract with great effort—if they couldn't sign it in time and bring it into force now, the prospects were uncertain, which could possibly impair the manufacture of the manned pressure sphere. Liu Feng and his present colleagues looked at each other and didn't want to simply give up. He said: “We very much regret this situation and apologize for it. If you want to leave tomorrow, we invite you all to dinner tonight—consider it a farewell dinner.”

The Russian representatives were inwardly dissatisfied but couldn't refuse: “All right!”

Thus began a superficially cordial but actually awkward banquet. Liu Feng and the Chinese intermediary as hosts constantly urged the guests to drink: “Come, drink more! The Chinese say: 'Without a fight, one doesn't become friends'—even though we haven't signed a contract today, we've negotiated sincerely, and from now on we're good friends!”

“Yes, exactly! Come, cheers!”

Most Russians had high alcohol tolerance and also liked Chinese rice liquor. When they saw how polite the companions were, they gradually relaxed, their faces brightened, and they clinked glasses one after another. To show the sincerity of the hosts, several Chinese participants also drank along, regardless of their usual drinking habits—they “sacrificed themselves for the noble guest.”

After three rounds of rice liquor and five courses, the atmosphere began to liven up. Liu Feng filled himself a glass of rice liquor, unobtrusively pulled the director aside, and said: “I personally greatly admire your scholarship, Director—one more toast to you, look, down to the last drop!” He threw back his head and poured down the full glass of burning alcohol. Since he had already drunk plenty and was somewhat hasty, tears almost came to his eyes.

Laviorolov was touched and also drank his glass without hesitation, showed the empty glass, and both laughed. Liu Feng continued: “Director, you're traveling back, but could you leave your deputy director here a bit longer? It's estimated there will be a result in two days.”

The groundwork was laid, everything proceeded naturally and logically—Laviorolov nodded generously: “All right! He'll leave two days later.”

In the end, both sides drank exuberantly and contentedly, and everyone swayed when leaving the restaurant. The Russian representatives were staying overnight in this hotel, while Liu Feng and the intermediary saw the guests off, supported each other, no longer knew where they had come out, staggering couldn't find their car anymore, and finally each had to take separate cabs. The loyal driver actually waited in the parking lot until dawn.

Fortunately, through this “mighty drinking to unconsciousness,” they could persuade the Russian deputy director Pilayev to stay, who waited another three days. Finally, the procedure was completed, and the good news came: “The contract can be signed!”

At the signing ceremony, both sides, China and Russia, solemnly placed their signatures under this hard-won contract. It was already past one in the morning, but none of those present showed a trace of fatigue. Amid loud applause, everyone cheerfully raised their champagne glasses, congratulated each other, and spent together an unforgettable all-night celebration.

Although the originally planned ceremony was actually supposed to be grand and solemn and now appeared somewhat sparse, it was nevertheless the result of multiple trials and difficulties—it was hard-won! With this signing, the most important component of the 7,000-meter manned submersible was secured!

2. Urgent Trip Abroad

Besides the titanium alloy pressure sphere, the deep-sea submersible also needed high-quality buoyancy material that would give it super-strong buoyancy in water, enabling it to ascend quickly after completing ocean floor work. After repeated comparisons and selection procedures on the international market, the overall project group selected a buoyancy material manufactured by an American company. It consisted of glass silicate raw material manufactured through high-tech processing and possessed the advantages of light weight, low thermal conductivity, high strength, and good chemical stability.

Unexpectedly, however, this buoyancy material didn't pass the export approval review of the U.S. government. Although the development of the manned submersible was approved as a civilian research project, the China Ocean Association was the end user and client, and they assured it wouldn't be used for military purposes or transferred to third parties, the sensitive application area still aroused the suspicion of American authorities. As a compromise and concession, the American export review group agreed to sell the buoyancy material to the Chinese side after downgrading its performance by one level.

The CEO of that company turned to the Chinese side, spread his hands: “We're sorry, we must comply with our government's decision.”

No matter how the Chinese side argued, the other party only shrugged and expressed regret.

To avoid jeopardizing the overall project, the Chinese side decided to accept this reality and increase the buoyancy material appropriately, but this had enormous effects on the overall design of the submersible: More material meant an increase in the volume and overall weight of the submersible. As a result, the overall arrangement and design drawings of the submersible had to be completely redone, and the lifting capacity of the deployment and recovery system as well as the mother ship conversion also had to be newly verified and validated...

There was nothing to say—everyone swallowed their anger, looked for solutions, and overcame the problems one by one!

Hardly had one wave been smoothed when the next already rose. According to contract, this material was to be transported to the British factory of the American company and manufactured there according to Chinese design plans. After contract conclusion, the buoyancy material company delivered two batches to Britain for processing. The first batch was successfully delivered and reached Shanghai, but with the second batch there were problems with shipping at Heathrow Airport: British customs decided to drill holes in the already formed buoyancy material to take samples and determine the actual specific weight. Thus, several crates of already formed buoyancy material were held at London's Heathrow Airport...

When the news reached Beijing, group leader Liu Feng could no longer remain calm—would there be further complications? He immediately reported to the responsible leadership and received the answer: Travel abroad immediately to solve the problem and ensure as quickly as possible that the British side delivers and ships the goods according to the contractually agreed deadline. Highest urgency—Liu Feng handled the formalities in the shortest time, flew to London, and immediately turned to the Science Department of the Chinese Embassy in Britain.

“Don't worry, sit down first and drink a sip of water,” said the embassy counselor while pouring water and thinking. “Once the inspection procedure has been initiated, it can't be aborted. But we can accelerate the coordination and ask the customs authorities to speed up the process.”

The situation was now clear: The buoyancy material was produced and processed according to contract, and the specific weight had been proper at the inspection in the factory. British customs conducted a re-inspection before export—the procedure was lawful and not objectionable. But for the Chinese client, this control came quite late. Even with active communication and coordination by the Chinese Embassy in Britain, test and inspection procedures were delayed by almost two months before clearance was granted.

V. The First Dive in Sea Tests: “It Won't Go Down” and “No Connection”

Oh, South China Sea! South China Sea like blue crystal!

Its name in China is South Sea. It is surrounded by the Chinese mainland, Taiwan Island, the Philippines, and the Indochinese Peninsula. Since it lies south of the Chinese mainland, it bears this name—abroad it's also called the South China Sea. This is China's deepest, largest, and purest sea with an area of 3.56 million square kilometers, roughly three times the total area of the Bohai, Yellow, and East China Seas. After the Coral Sea in the South Pacific and the Arabian Sea in the Indian Ocean, it's the world's third-largest marginal sea.

Of the area under Chinese jurisdiction within the Nine-Dash Line, about 2.1 million square kilometers belong to China, with an average water depth of 1,212 meters and a maximum depth of 5,567 meters. In the South China Sea, there are four island groups: the Dongsha Islands, the Xisha Islands, the Zhongsha Islands, and the Nansha Islands, distributed on the infinitely vast deep-blue sea surface. Viewed from a bird's eye perspective, they resemble sea roses in full bloom or chains of crystal-clear, gleaming pearls...

Here was selected as the test site for China's first manned deep-sea submersible. In early August 2009, the test mother ship “Xiangyanghong 09” with the sea test team and the carefully constructed “Hexie Hao” on board left the Yangtze, sailed into the East China Sea, evaded Typhoon “Morakot” in the Lühuashan anchorage area, simultaneously conducted training on sea test documents, built organizational structures, verified mechanical equipment, practiced operational procedures, and trained the team in rescue and recovery—and then plowed through the waves toward a certain sea area south of Sanya in the South China Sea.

According to the predetermined test principle: from shallow to deep, proceed step by step. The sea tests of the manned submersible were divided into four phases: 1,000 meters, 3,000 meters, 5,000 meters, and 7,000 meters depth. The first phase again comprised three smaller stages: 50 meters, 300 meters, and 1,000 meters. For each step there was a detailed test plan. After completion of each test phase, an expert conference was convened to evaluate the test results, and the sea test leadership group then decided collectively on the tasks of the next phase based on expert opinions.

After thorough analysis and investigation, they divided the test sea area in the South China Sea into several zones: A1, A2, B1, B2, and so on. The 50-meter sea tests took place mainly in area A1—this place became the cradle of China's manned deep-sea submersible and entered contemporary scientific history, whose fame will remain forever.

August 15—a special day. On August 15, 1945, Japan had declared its surrender. The operations center decided on this day, 25 nautical miles south of the Sanya anchorage, to conduct a water surface deployment test—this was also the first dive of the entire sea test, of extraordinary significance.

The test objectives were: verification of the work compatibility and coordination between submersible and the mother ship's deployment-recovery system; completion of the operational procedures for deploying the submersible from the deck to the water surface and recovery from the water surface back to the deck; collection of operational experience; testing of underwater acoustic communication equipment and location sonar; functional verification of all systems and equipment of the submersible at sea; initial practical experience for submersible pilots in controlling the submersible at sea; training of the coordination and cooperation ability of all departments and positions; revision and improvement of work procedures through practical experience; improvement of the command and control capability of the operations center and so on.

At dawn, when the horizon between sky and water was just becoming visible, busy activity began on the aft deck of “Xiangyanghong 09.” The surface support system, the “frogman” team responsible for releasing the cables, and the sea test team members at all safety positions worked in an orderly and conscientious manner according to their respective tasks and usual exercises. At 8:30 a.m., two young submersible pilots—Tang Jialing and the technician from the Acoustic Institute Zhang Dongsheng—boarded one after another.

Immediately afterward, Cui Weicheng, the first deputy chief designer of the manned submersible and deputy director of the 702nd Research Institute, climbed down the small ladder into the cabin. He was simultaneously a member of the operations center and responsible for the organizational leadership of the submersible main body group. From the beginning, he had clearly stated: “As a designer, we have the confidence to dive first. Chief Designer Xu is older—this is my unavoidable duty!” Therefore, he was full of confidence and not nervous at all. In the morning, ship doctor Fu Jinling had routinely measured his blood pressure: 80/120—completely normal.

At 8:55 a.m., main pilot Tang Jialing had routinely checked all equipment—everything was normal, and he reported this to the command center. With the command “Deploy,” the motor roared: The rail car moved back, the A-frame swung forward, the main lifting cable was lowered and connected to the submersible, then came the lifting, the auxiliary hook attachment, the swinging back of the A-frame. Suddenly—the A-frame was in position, the submersible hung from the ship's hull, but the auxiliary hook couldn't be released. After multiple attempts, it still didn't work. Yu Jianxun, the tall engineer from the 701st Institute responsible for operating the A-frame, began to sweat—his already pale face became even paler.

In the submersible cabin, the three test personnel hung in the air and couldn't get into the sea—they were full of doubts, especially the two young men looked at each other helplessly. Director Cui, however, remained calm and composed and reassured them: “Don't be nervous! Being nervous doesn't help either—leave the nervousness to the colleagues outside. We'll just do what we have to do.”

Xiao Tang and Xiao Zhang's facial color relaxed, and they began discussing the submersible's operational procedures with each other. At this point, the operations center commanded: “Recover submersible!” The A-frame set them back on the rail car to the deck. The technicians quickly conducted an inspection and found that during lifting, the main cable hadn't been properly retracted—only one of the two auxiliary hooks had caught, and due to the excessive load on this one hook, the loaded hook couldn't release.

The malfunction was fixed, the submersible was lifted again and successfully launched—the test pilots began verification on the water surface. Zhang Dongsheng started the acoustic system for testing, but no connection could be established to the surface. The VHF radio connection responsible for communication between mother ship and submersible was full of noise—one couldn't understand anything at all. Main pilot Xiao Tang and acoustic technician Xiao Zhang were so desperate they scratched their ears and heads—they were at a loss. The matter was reported to the responsible acoustic researcher Zhu Min, who was also bathed in sweat and despite all efforts couldn't solve the problem—later the radio signal even broke off completely.

According to sea test regulations, the submersible was not allowed to dive if no communication between surface and underwater could be established. Commander-in-chief Liu Feng had to order again: Recover submersible. Twice in a row, problems had occurred during deployment and surface tests—a bad start. But with this they had tested the permeability and integration of the organization and command system, improved the coordination of all positions, ensured the safety of the first sea test, and explored the particularities and regularities of conducting sea tests—this too was an achievement.

That evening, the command center conducted a thorough analysis and came to the conclusion that insufficient underwater acoustic communication was the main problem and had to be solved immediately. Otherwise, the sea test couldn't be continued: If the submersible went into the sea without establishing a communication connection, that was like “a blind man on a blind horse, in the middle of the night at the edge of an abyss”—extremely dangerous. The acoustic team of the submersible was under enormous pressure, especially Zhu Min, researcher at the Acoustic Institute of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. He was a student of Professor Zhu Weiqing, the chief designer of the communication system for the 7,000-meter manned submersible, and also deputy chief designer. He represented Professor Zhu and led a group of young people around 30—Zhang Dongsheng, Yang Bo, Xu Lijun, Liu Yeyao, and others—at the forefront in testing underwater acoustic communication.

Of course, they didn't fight alone. Professor Zhu Weiqing, the “chief,” had initially also come aboard the ship but couldn't sail out for health reasons and directed remotely from the base in Sanya. The entire Acoustic Institute of the Chinese Academy of Sciences was their strong backup—the hotline remained constantly connected. Also, the main designer of the submersible, Xu Qinan, worked together with everyone on the solution. The first officer of “Xiangyanghong 09,” Li Yubo, had formerly been a radio operator and actively helped with troubleshooting. After nighttime troubleshooting and urgent repairs, there were finally good results.

On August 17, “Xiangyanghong 09” sailed to sea area A1 with a 50-meter depth line—here “Hexie Hao” was to make its first dive to 50 meters depth. Early in the morning, when just a pale shimmer appeared over the eastern sea surface and the lights of the opposite city of Sanya still blinked like the eyes of mischievous children, busy activity already prevailed on the aft deck of “Xiangyanghong 09” where the submersible was installed. To maintain and check the corresponding equipment and adjust the weight of the ballast blocks, the corresponding areas of the light outer hull and buoyancy blocks had to be removed.

Early in the morning, Zhang Guibao, Gu Qiuliang, Zhang Jianping, and others from the 702nd Institute gathered at the submersible with non-slip shoes and protective helmets. In the light of the deck lamps, they climbed on wobbly scaffolding onto the dew-moist submersible and worked precisely and conscientiously. Quickly, they had removed the light outer hull before the test, installed the ballast iron blocks, and completed all preparations for the dive. They wiped the sweat from their faces, looked at the rising red sun in the east, and showed satisfied and happy smiles.

The test began—”Hexie Hao” was successfully launched. The main content was balancing the submersible. But just as the frogmen had successfully released the dragon head cable and tow cable, the surface check proceeded normally, and commander-in-chief Liu Feng had given the command “Dive,” something unexpected happened: The ballast water tank filling system was activated until it was completely filled—theoretically it should now sink gradually in free fall. But it seemed unwilling to leave its engineers with whom it had grown up—the submersible continued floating on the water surface and simply wouldn't go down!

In the command center, there was bewilderment—nobody knew what was happening. Liu Feng held the radio in his hand and called again and again:

“Hexie, Hexie, check the water tank!”

“Water inlet normal, completely filled.”

“Use the onboard propulsion.”

“Understood.”

The test pilots answered while operating the diving equipment. But it didn't help—the submersible floated on the water surface as if joking and simply wouldn't go down. My God—had the submersible perhaps become a landlubber that didn't dare take a header?

On the aft deck, Chief Designer Xu Qinan stood silently the whole time observing everything—in his heart he was completely clear where the error lay, and he muttered to himself: “Too conservative, far too conservative...” It turned out that “Hexie Hao” used the powerless diving and ascending method through ballasting and jettisoning. Since it was the first test on the high seas, the principle “safety first” applied—”get down and get back up” to ensure the safety of submersible and test pilots. Therefore, they had been too cautious with ballasting and had calculated too lightly, so the submersible was still lighter than the specific weight of seawater even with a fully filled water tank. Dive failed.

At the debriefing, Xu Qinan said dejectedly: “We shouldn't have made such a simple mistake—how embarrassing...”

“Chief Designer Xu, you're exaggerating—you and Teacher Fang at your age went to sea with us, that alone is already very remarkable!” reassured Party Secretary Liu Xincheng.

Commander-in-chief Liu Feng added: “Exactly! Chief Designer Xu, with tests it just goes like this—one constantly summarizes experiences and lessons and proceeds step by step. Next time it will be better!”

Yes, the sea test team advanced under such an emotional atmosphere and with the conviction of certain victory.

One learns from mistakes. After learning the lesson of failure, the chief designer team under Xu Qinan's leadership revised the ballast plan overnight, increased the ballasting to 140 kilograms, simultaneously improved the underwater acoustic communication system, and the command center decided to strike while the iron was hot and conduct another sea test.

The next day, August 18, there was fine weather. Southeast wind force 3-4, wave height 0.6-1.4 meters, current speed 0.7 knots, temperature 29.1°C. The sea test team conducted another 50-meter manned dive in area A1. Ye Cong, one of the lead designers of the submersible main body, took over as main pilot, Tang Jialing as left test pilot, and on the right test pilot seat sat Professor Yu Hang, the famous marine scientist and head of the expert group for this sea test—actually he didn't have to personally participate in the sea test, but he had multiple experiences on deep-sea submersibles abroad and above all a burning heart for China's deep-sea diving program, so he unhesitatingly led by example and gave the young submersible pilots enormous confidence and courage.

“All departments, get ready!”

At Commander Liu's command, another sea test began—the eighth dive overall—whose main content was again balancing the submersible.

After ten minutes of water inlet, Ye Cong operated the propulsion for diving and stopped at 28.5 meters depth to conduct various adjustment tests. Professor Yu and Tang Jialing assisted at the side and tested five different sonar systems, including collision avoidance sonar and depth-measuring side-scan sonar—all functioned flawlessly. Then “Hexie Hao” dove down to 38 meters, lingered briefly, and began ascending. At 10 meters below the water surface, a jettison test was conducted, after which it quickly returned. When its red back emerged from the blue sea surface, jubilation broke out on the deck of “Xiangyanghong 09.”

Although it was only a dive to 38 meters and still far from the 7,000-meter design goal, it was nevertheless the first step of the sea test team into the depths of the ocean through joint effort—and also the first step of China's manned deep-sea diving program. When “Hexie Hao” was lifted back to the mother ship and the three test pilots climbed out one after another, they brought out a bright red five-star flag they had taken into the depths and presented it shoulder to shoulder before everyone.

“Bravo!”—thunderous applause followed.

The members of the command center and the three test pilots together raised their fists high, posed for commemorative photos, and then signed together on the national flag as a memento. The “Sea Test Express Reports” published a special edition with the headline: “Congratulations on the Successful First Dive of China's Manned Submersible.”

A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. Compared to the later tremendous successes with hundreds and thousands of meters, this small 38-meter dive was insignificant in terms of depth, but its significance was enormous. It proved that our independently designed, integrally innovative submersible could safely dive and ascend!

On October 3, 2009, China's manned submersible successfully completed a sea test at 1,000 meters. On June 22, 2010, the manned submersible now officially named “Jiaolong” successfully completed a sea test at 3,000 meters in the South China Sea...

Heart-Pounding Deep-Sea Alarm

Although the diving depth had broken through the 3,000-meter mark, the test programs were far from complete.

On July 8, 2010, “Xiangyanghong 09” sailed from Sanya to the 3,000-meter test sea area to attack new depths and solve problems that had arisen in the sea tests. Since the average depth of the world's oceans is 3,682 meters, the leadership of the Department of Social Development of the Ministry of Science and Technology demanded that this year's tests of the manned submersible should exceed this depth. The originally established dive point, however, lay only at 3,500 meters, so the command center decided to relocate 4 nautical miles southeast—the coordinates were 18 degrees 35 minutes north, 116 degrees 28 minutes east.

Around 3 a.m., “Xiangyanghong 09” reached the changed dive area and first conducted CTD measurement work. The technicians Zeng Xianmin and Huang Yunming from the Technical Ocean Center of the North Sea Branch, who accompanied the sea test, conducted the measurements—the measurement depth reached 3,765 meters and ended at 4:30 a.m. The deputy director of the Technical Ocean Center of the North Sea Branch, Zhang Hongxin, began conducting measurement line surveys with Bathy 2010—two measurement lines from east to west and from south to north, each 4 nautical miles long, completed by 6:30 a.m. These were necessary works before each dive test to provide the submersible with reliable technical parameters.

The test objectives were: verification of the hydraulic system and navigation functions. The dive crew consisted of Tang Jialing, Ye Cong, and Cui Weicheng.

At 10 a.m., the command center gave the command “On your marks,” ten minutes later “Jiaolong” went into the water. Afterward, the dive initially proceeded smoothly. At 10:56 a.m., the diving depth reached 1,100 meters. At 11:06 a.m., the submersible was at about 1,700 meters. Precisely at this moment, Cui Weicheng, who was constantly monitoring the electrical grounding meter, suddenly said: “Not good! The grounding value is rising again!”

“Really?” Ye Cong and Tang Jialing also quickly glanced at the display—indeed, the pointer was moving upward, and they involuntarily became somewhat nervous.

The grounding measurement value was a warning signal for water intrusion in waterproof cables and connectors. One must know that the manned submersible was studded with a multitude of waterproof cables and plugs that supplied the control system, underwater acoustic communication, the life support system, as well as the external mechanical arms, recording equipment, and lighting with power. In short, these power lines were the blood vessels and nerves of the submersible—they had to withstand the pressure of several hundred atmospheres on the ocean floor, must not leak, and cause no short circuit, so the submersible functioned normally. If a continuous leakage occurred and seawater penetrated the manned cabin under enormous pressure, its force would be like that of a bullet—the consequences for submersible and crew would be unimaginable...

To monitor the condition of the waterproof cables and connectors in time, the experts of the 702nd Institute had specially installed a grounding meter. The measured value had to remain below a certain value to ensure safety—the maximum value must not exceed 1.2. If the maximum limit value was exceeded, it meant that water had possibly penetrated the cables, and the test had to be stopped immediately and ballast jettisoned to surface. Last year, this problem hadn't been very pronounced in sea tests below 1,000 meters—the value remained basically in the normal range. This year, they gradually exceeded 2,000 meters and penetrated to 3,000 meters ocean depth—the grounding measurement value rose continuously, sometimes even above 1.2, so they had to return unsuccessfully multiple times.

The test pilots, however, had discovered a strange phenomenon: When the submersible ascended to over 1,000 meters, the pointer of the grounding meter returned to below 0.07. Especially after recovery to the deck, the submersible maintenance department immediately conducted inspections but found no faults whatsoever—all cables and connectors were normal. Several times in a row, this gave everyone a big headache. If this problem couldn't be fundamentally solved, it was like a time bomb and posed a serious risk—the sea tests couldn't be continued.

After another thorough and detailed overhaul in which all possibly leaking spare parts were replaced, the sea test team conducted the 33rd dive full of expectation. Cui Weicheng, deputy director of the 702nd Institute and deputy chief designer of the submersible main body, dove personally to find out what was really going on. Initially, everything proceeded normally, but at about 2,000 meters, the fault occurred again. 0.9... 1.0... 1.05... The three test pilots took corresponding measures, temporarily suspended the communication connection, switched off the onboard power supply—but everything was in vain.

On the large screen in the command center of the mother ship “Xiangyanghong 09,” the underwater situation of the submersible was also displayed in real time. Actually, everyone had hoped for a miracle—when they saw that the dive was approaching 2,000 meters and the value was still in the normal range, they believed they had already overcome this difficult hurdle. But suddenly the display of the submersible's grounding alarm switched to red text, the atmosphere in the command center became instantly tense, it became quiet as a mouse, people entering and leaving moved carefully and opened doors quietly, and that reporter had somehow unnoticed switched from the front row to the back. Everyone's foreheads were covered with cold sweat.

In the “Jiaolong” cabin under the seawater, there was even greater tension—the pointer of the grounding meter climbed relentlessly upward, from 1.05 to 1.16, just short of reaching the maximum value of 1.2. When the submersible sank to 2,050 meters, the pointer rose to 1.338, which indicated that an unforeseen event could occur at any time. The command center on the mother ship had to issue an emergency command: “Surface immediately!” Finally, the submersible ended at a depth of 2,088 meters. Ye Cong operated the ballast release, and the vessel surfaced and returned. The previously achieved 3,000 meters weren't broken through, no test procedures were conducted either—a futile, unsuccessful dive.

To laugh and cry at the same time: As with previous times, the alarm automatically disappeared when the vessel surfaced to about 1,000 meters depth, and the grounding detection pointer returned to below 0.07. After the submersible's return to the mother ship, the head of the deep-diving department, Hu Zhen, immediately organized the engineers of the power and distribution team—Cheng Fei, Yang Shenshen, Wang Lei, and others—for a comprehensive inspection. They disassembled the submersible and searched point by point for the fault source, also invited the expert advisory group to analyze deeply, and checked all conceivable places, but still didn't find the true cause. As a last resort, they could only take measures to narrow down the fault range: The most suspicious power line to the emergency hydraulic source was laid directly into the cabin, and should an anomaly occur again, the corresponding lines would be disconnected one by one.

Would this method work? Only a check in the deep sea could bring certainty. But the danger hadn't yet been eliminated—if the circuit should fail underwater, that would mean a devastating catastrophe.

That evening, the chief designer group of the submersible convened an expanded meeting to analyze the problem and discuss solution measures. The reality presented itself thus: To solve the problem of the grounding alarm, i.e., electrical insulation, the repair possibilities on the deck of the mother ship were very limited—they had to dive! After thorough discussion, the lead designers of the various systems declared one after another: “Our equipment isn't afraid of pressure! Let's dive!” “Right, even if the sensor breaks, it won't cause a major accident. We have spare parts, we'll replace them after surfacing.”

Finally, the chief designer group came to a unanimous decision: Under the premise of safety—that is, as long as the grounding value doesn't exceed 1.2 milliamperes—they should boldly dive and let depth bring the problem completely to light. After careful examination, the field command center and expert group considered this feasible and decided to continue the dive tests.

Unexpectedly, the situation became even more serious: At the 35th test dive, the grounding value already began rising at over 40 meters, alarm was triggered at every meter of descent, and at 300 meters it even reached 1.5 milliamperes. As the vessel dove further to over 800 meters, the pointer fell back to 0.9. Obviously, the fault location was extremely unstable. For safety reasons, the command center asked them to surface and return immediately.

To find the exact cause, they had to take another step further and take detection measures underwater to “force this stubborn fault to the surface.” Moreover, through the many deep dives, they had deeply felt that the submersible's performance was safe and reliable. As long as they observed carefully and made all preparations, safety was ensured. Yes, whoever doesn't enter the tiger's cave won't catch the tiger. Agreed! Continue diving! The three firmly placed their hands together.

This required enormous risk—if the unknown fault caused a short circuit, power failure, or even explosion and water intrusion, the consequences would be extremely serious. This fearless heroic deed resembled Dong Cunrui holding up the explosive charge or Huang Jiguang throwing himself into the line of fire. Our scientists and test drivers maintained calm and composure despite constant alarms, boldly continued diving, ever deeper...

As the author writes these lines, his hand trembles and his heart is moved—as if he saw in the deep sea of several thousand meters how the test drivers steered “Jiaolong” and approached the ocean floor step by step, pushing against the difficulties that prevented the Chinese from realizing their “dream of a strong maritime nation.” Although they know there are tigers there, they still go to Tiger Mountain. They are true heroes, they are heroes to be sung and mourned!

Certainly, they didn't act blindly, not with brute force, but on the basis of scientific assurance, with deep love for the fatherland's manned deep-diving project and with confidence in “Jiaolong's” safety performance, they put life and death aside and treated the problems before them calmly, prudently, and decisively. When they sank to about 1,800 meters depth, the alarm values rose again. They observed calmly, isolated the electrical devices one by one, and simultaneously increased the diving depth further, extended the time of alarm occurrence to fix the fault location...

Heaven doesn't disappoint the determined. They finally grabbed the tail of this repeatedly vanishing “ghost.” After “Jiaolong's” safe return to the mother ship, Professor Qian and Ye Cong reported the problems observed underwater to the maintenance personnel. The power and distribution team checked all night and found faint traces of arc burn at the plug root of a 32-core cable. Upon further inspection, it was found that the cause of the repeatedly occurring alarm of auxiliary battery leakage was water intrusion into the waterproof connector. The two wires were normally separated by insulating rubber and peacefully coexistent, but when they dove into the deep sea below 1,500 meters, the pressure increased and pressed the wires tightly together, tiny burrs caused a short-circuit alarm. And when they surfaced to the water surface, the pressure decreased, the two wires separated, and everything was normal again.

Ha! After searching for him in thousands of crowds, one suddenly finds him when looking back where the lights are sparse. The cause found, treating the symptoms, the problem thoroughly solved. The command center decided that all relevant departments should eliminate the fault all night, check system software, and modify work procedures. That night, busy figures were seen everywhere—in the field command center, in the submersible preparation room, in the acoustic control room, on the aft deck, under the lights—until dawn broke in the sky...

Seven, The Five-Star Flag Waves on the Ocean Floor

On July 12, 2010, it was again a day China's deep divers could be proud of. After a night of fault checking and elimination as well as maintenance and upkeep, the culprit of the grounding detection alarm that had long plagued the submersible had been solved.

Today the 36th dive took place. The test tasks were: erecting the flag of the People's Republic of China on the ocean floor in the South China Sea, laying out the marker “Dragon Palace No. 3,” taking seawater samples with the hydrothermal sampler, verifying grounding detection, and more. The test drivers were Ye Cong, Tang Jialing, and Liu Kaizhou.

Originally, the test was scheduled for 9:30 a.m., but during the comprehensive inspection of the submersible before descent at 8 a.m.—when installing the light outer hull—the very conscientious technician Gu Qiuliang, an experienced master from the 702nd Institute with the title “Technical Expert of Jiangsu Province,” suddenly discovered oil traces on several screws around the reserve battery box. Upon further inspection, it turned out that the battery box had a fine crack. Hu Zhen immediately directed the distribution team to replace it, which was only completed at noon at 12 o'clock.

“How's it looking? Hu, can we still go today?” The command center was somewhat worried.

“No problem! We guarantee everything will be prepared,” Hu Zhen answered with a firm voice.

“Good, everyone on position at 1 p.m.!” At the command center's order, all departments began working tensely and in an orderly manner.

At 1:15 p.m., “Jiaolong” was launched into the water, and after establishing acoustic communication, the descent began. At 1:48 p.m. at 1,000 meters diving depth, then it continued smoothly—2,000 meters, 3,000 meters, 3,682 meters. At 3:16 p.m., the vessel reached 3,757.31 meters, equaling the record from July 9, and safely set down on the bottom. Next, Tang Jialing and Liu Kaizhou were responsible for observation and inspection, while main pilot Ye Cong operated the mechanical arm to lay out the ocean floor marker...

Leaving a commemorative marker in the deep sea is a special task of manned submersibles. Already last year, when the test in the 300-meter ocean area was on the verge of success, Commander-in-chief Liu Feng had thought of this and sought out provisional Party Secretary Liu Xincheng: “In the next test series, the submersible will set down on the bottom. Couldn't we make a symbolic object that could be placed with the mechanical arm into the test area on the ocean floor? It will forever testify to the authenticity of our test.”

“This idea is good, I completely agree. Come, let's ask the captain.” They went to the captain's room and explained their intention to Dou Yonglin.

Captain Dou was a clever man and immediately got Chief Engineer Liu Jun, Deputy Squadron Leader Lu Huisheng, and Professor Qian for joint consultation. Everyone thought that the storage time should be as long as possible and stability in water must be ensured. Liu Xincheng suggested making an inverted T-shaped component from 3mm steel plate on which “Commemoration of Chinese Manned Deep-Dive Test 2009.9” should be printed. Lu Huisheng proposed: To enable the submersible's mechanical arm to lay it out smoothly, a piece of floating cable could be attached to the upper part of the component. At the same time, to ensure visibility underwater, the base color should be white and the text color red. The plan was set, the captain organized the manufacturing.

In just over an hour, the component was completed in the machine workshop, Boatswain's Mate Li Bin organized derusting and painting—two coats of anti-rust paint, two coats of white oil paint. First Officer Li Yubo and Sailor Liu Hongjian took over engraving the text. They were skilled and worked quickly and beautifully. Commander-in-chief Liu Feng praised after viewing: “There really are many capable people among the crew, there's nothing that can't be done.” After lettering, the paint wasn't yet dry, but many already came to take photos, because once it's laid on the ocean floor, hardly anyone except the dive pilots will get to see it.

On the morning of September 20, 2009, the 18th dive took place. Early in the morning, Professor Qian, with the help of Director Hu Zhen and others, carefully placed the marker into the front lower sample basket of the submersible, and normal descent began. At 9:30 a.m., the dive pilots reported: Successful touchdown at 292 meters. 18 degrees 59.985 minutes north latitude, 112 degrees 37.225 minutes east longitude—with the mechanical arm, the marker of the Chinese manned deep-dive test was successfully laid out.

The sea bears witness: In September 2009, a group of Chinese who dared to explore the deep sea left their traces here.

Time jumps to 2010. When the 3,000-meter-class sea test began, the 702nd Institute of the China Shipbuilding Industry Corporation had long since prepared the ocean floor marker: a 50cm-high national flag and an octagonal plate with 30cm diameter on which the five-star flag pattern and “Commemoration of Chinese Manned Deep-Dive Sea Test: 2010” were printed, called “Dragon Palace No. 3” (previously, “Dragon Palace No. 1” and “Dragon Palace No. 2” had already been laid out in the 300-meter test area), both made from pressure-resistant, corrosion-resistant titanium alloy.

The historical moment finally came. Ye Cong stabilized the submersible on one hand and on the other grasped with the mechanical arm the small five-star flag made of titanium alloy from the outboard sample basket, held it carefully and at the same time solemnly high, searched out a level spot, and planted it firmly into the ocean floor of the South China Sea! In the bright external light, the bright red flag stood up in the clear seawater, spread out forever, swayed slightly with the ocean current, as if waving in the wind under a wide blue sky!

The three dive pilots gazed long at the five-star flag standing in the sea, their hearts were moved, tears rose to their eyes, they felt incomparable pride and honor. In that moment, they were like standard-bearers on the battlefield who broke through hails of bullets and planted the victory flag on the just-conquered height; or like the flag guard before Tiananmen Square who in firm goose-step, in fresh morning wind, raised the flag that united the burning hearts of China's sons and daughters together with the radiant sun...

This was the first time that the flag of the People's Republic of China appeared on the ocean floor of the South China Sea—of extraordinary significance!

Eight, Dialogue Between Deep Sea and Outer Space

The day awaited with excitement by all of China and even the whole world finally came!

On June 24, 2012, China's manned submersible “Jiaolong” began in the vast northwestern Pacific Mariana Trench area, east longitude 141 degrees 58.50 minutes, north latitude 10 degrees 59.50 minutes, officially attacking 7,000 meters depth. At 6:30 a.m., in pouring rain and high-surging waves, the field command center and provisional party committee on the veteran test mother ship “Xiangyanghong 09” held a farewell ceremony for the test drivers on the service deck in the rain.

The darkness hadn't yet completely receded, the brightly glowing deck lamps shone as in daytime, a banner with the inscription “Chinese Manned Deep-Dive Sea Test 2012, Fourth Year”—this “7,000 meters” had long since been on everyone's lips, after all storms and difficulties, after overcoming one hurdle after another, they should finally become reality today!

All members of the command center and provisional party committee wore blue sea test uniforms, protective helmets, stood in orderly formation, and gazed long at the more than ten large characters on the banner, moved and stirred. The three test drivers with great responsibility—Ye Cong, main designer of “Jiaolong” and chief test driver, Liu Kaizhou, associate researcher at the Shenyang Institute of Automation of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and Yang Bo, associate researcher at the Institute of Acoustics of the Chinese Academy of Sciences—stood before the formation, the five-star flag badge on their left chest was particularly conspicuous, it bathed their young faces in red light.

The ceremony was chaired by Secretary Liu Xincheng. Commander-in-chief Liu Feng, with a serious and determined face, gave a brief address to the three test drivers who would attack 7,000 meters depth for the first time (overall 49th dive), then waved his hand: “I hereby declare: The test drivers start!” The members of the field command center and provisional party committee shook their hands one after another, embraced them firmly—in this moment there were no words, only powerful slaps on the back. This was trust and encouragement.

The three test drivers resolutely boarded the maintenance platform and climbed in one after another. Main pilot Ye Cong climbed in last and waved back once more, which showed his confidence and determination to fulfill the mission. Although the rain was heavy, no farewell committee left their place, all positions continued working according to plan, people's clothing was soaked, but their hearts were full of sunshine.

At 7 a.m., the command center announced “Everyone on position.” Rail car travel, removal of limit pins, suspension of the main cable, lifting, swinging out of the A-frame, suspension of the dragon head cable, launching into water, releasing the cable—everything went smoothly. The submersible gradually drifted away from the stern of the mother ship. Not far away, the ship “Haiyang Liuhao” took over the security task.

Since the beginning of the 5,000-meter sea test, news media publicly reported the “Jiaolong” situation. To ensure unified communication, the sea test team had established a news release system with provisional Party Secretary Liu Xincheng serving as spokesman for the field command center. Now he released for the first time the authoritative message to the accompanying media representatives: “'Jiaolong' launched into water at 7:29 a.m., at 7:33 a.m. acoustic digital communication was established, now it's sinking at a speed of 41 meters per minute, the submersible's equipment is normal, the test drivers are doing well.”

On the screen of the field command center, the data constantly jumped: 1,000 meters, 2,000 meters, 6,000 meters. With increasing depth, Liu Xincheng became more and more worried: Since departing, they had crossed the ocean, defied Typhoon “Mawar,” faced Cyclone “Guchol.” The variable ballast, the propellers, and others had succumbed multiple times to deep-sea high pressure, the team had overcome adverse circumstances, challenged limits, fought hard. Sobbing, tears, setbacks alternated, flowers, congratulation letters, applause accompanied the way. When he thought of this... he didn't dare think further, also had no more time to think. At 10:05 a.m., Commander-in-chief Liu Feng reminded: “Old friend, time for the second official announcement.”

“Good.” Liu Xincheng compared the data, cleared his throat, and said to the reporters: “'Jiaolong' reached a depth at 10 a.m., the crew is doing well.”

The command center was quiet as a mouse. Everyone stared intently at the screen, some even rubbed their eyes for fear of not seeing the changing numbers clearly: 6,900 meters, 6,935 meters, 6,970 meters... At 10:55 a.m., “7,005 meters” appeared on the screen, the command center cheered, the applause wouldn't end. This was a new record for the People's Republic—no, for the whole world—for a manned deep dive with three people! Liu Feng and Liu Xincheng involuntarily stood up, their hands firmly clasped together, not letting go for a long time.

The eyes of the commander-in-chief became moist again, while the provisional party secretary suppressed his inner emotion, because Central Television was just broadcasting live via video, he had to constantly announce news and show the public the fighting and victorious spirit of the “Jiaolong” sea test team. And precisely on this day, China's spacecraft “Shenzhou IX,” which was traveling in space, was supposed to manually dock with the previously launched space station “Tiangong 1.” If both succeeded on the same day, those would be two great miracles of China—”Heaven and Sea”!

The moving moment came! At 11:25 a.m. Beijing time, on June 24, 2012 at 9:07 a.m., the message came from the deep sea from main pilot Ye Cong: “'Xiang Jiu'! 'Xiang Jiu'! 'Jiaolong' dove on June 24, 2012 at 9:07 a.m. Beijing time to a depth of 7,020 meters in the Mariana Trench and successfully touched down on the bottom. The dive pilots Ye Cong, Liu Kaizhou, and Yang Bo wish the astronauts Jing Haipeng, Liu Wang, and Liu Yang much success in docking with 'Tiangong 1'! We wish China's manned space travel and manned deep diving glorious successes!”

Wonderful! This was the moment when the Chinese nation stood with head held high! This was the day when the descendants of the Yan and Huang emperors could be proud! Forty-seven years ago, in May 1965, the founding leader of new China, Chairman Mao Zedong, had expressed in a poem the vision: “Ascend to heaven and grasp the moon, descend to the five seas and catch turtles, laughing and victorious return”—and this vision became reality today! How could the people throughout the country, the Chinese worldwide, yes, friends on all five continents not be joyfully excited and infinitely enthusiastic!

Liu Xincheng, his voice trembling slightly with emotion: “You've all heard, I don't need to announce it anymore. Just now our 'Jiaolong' made history!”

The on-site reporters present from Xinhua News Agency, Central Television, “Keji Ribao,” “Zhongguo Haiyang Bao” didn't raise their heads, only nodded in agreement and quickly typed on their laptop keyboards to publish this sensational news in real time.

Even more amazing was the following: In the evening, Central Television's “Xinwen Lianbo” showed a report on “Jiaolong's” 7,000-meter deep dive and “Shenzhou IX's” successful manual docking maneuver with “Tiangong 1,” including a segment in which the astronauts congratulated the dive pilots: One saw the astronauts Jing Haipeng, Liu Wang, and Liu Yang in blue space suits with the same bright red flag badge on their chest, floating in the orbital chamber of “Tiangong 1,” Commander Jing Haipeng spoke for all three word for word:

“We heartily congratulate and wish China's manned deep-diving project glorious successes!”

With this, China's two great high-tech achievements spread via radio waves throughout the world. Every Chinese with yellow skin and black hair could be proud from the heart! Originally, Central Television had connected with the Beijing Space Flight Control Center, the dive pilots' congratulations were sent in time to the spacecraft “Shenzhou IX” flying in space. The three astronauts Jing Haipeng and his colleagues understood the spirit and responded in the shortest time, transmitted their congratulations to the ground control center and Central Television.

This was a historic docking! This was a dialogue between deep sea and outer space!

The Chinese dive pilots at 7,020 meters ocean depth and the Chinese astronauts in distant outer space exchanged congratulations and encouragement—of extraordinary significance, with worldwide impact. This enormously lifted the spirit and morale of the nation, increased the image and standing of the country, and made friends and even the not-so-friendly minded worldwide sit up and take notice!

Now, was this wonderful, absolutely praiseworthy occurrence deliberately staged or pure coincidence? Later, many people asked the sea test team about this. Honestly: It was neither deliberate nor coincidence, but rather an inevitable result of the hard struggle and united efforts of the industrious, wise, and courageous Chinese people under the strong leadership of the Communist Party of China to this day!

Nine, The “Chinese Dragon” Rises Above the Ocean

On May 17, 2013 in Beijing, the capital of the People's Republic, in the Great Hall of the People.

In the bright, magnificent West Hall, an atmosphere of joy prevailed. A team dressed in sea-blue clothing with bright red flag badges on their chests came here with moved hearts and lined up in orderly formation, waiting. They were the scientists, engineers, dive pilots, and technical support personnel who had successfully completed the development and sea test of China's 7,000-meter-class manned submersible “Jiaolong”...

Amid warm applause, General Secretary of the CPC, President, and Chairman of the Central Military Commission Xi Jinping, along with the Standing Committee of the CPC Politburo, Premier Li Keqiang, and other Party and state leaders entered the hall and, smiling, shook hands one by one with the representatives in the front row and conversed with them.

Oh, this was a day that inspired and encouraged all of China's ocean workers.

The Central Committee of the CPC and the State Council decided to award the 7,000-meter-class sea test team of the manned submersible “Jiaolong” the honorary title “Heroic Collective of Manned Deep Diving” and to award Ye Cong, Fu Wentao, Tang Jialing, Cui Weicheng, Yang Bo, Liu Kaizhou, Zhang Dongsheng, and other comrades the honorary title “Hero of Manned Deep Diving.” Today, a solemn commendation ceremony was held in the Great Hall of the People. Before the event, General Secretary Xi and other leaders warmly received representatives of the exemplary units and workers of deep diving.

Xi Jinping waved to everyone with a smile: “On behalf of the Party Central Committee and the State Council, I congratulate you on the successful completion of the 'Jiaolong' development and sea test. I hope you will continue to work together and advance, to continue achieving new breakthroughs in China's ocean project and make greater contributions to building a strong maritime nation.” He inquired caringly about the work and health of the “Heroes of Manned Deep Diving” Ye Cong, Fu Wentao, and others. When he saw the dive pilot Tang Jialing, he said: “You're so young, how old are you?” The young Tang, who had dived multiple times into the deep sea, was so moved in this moment that he didn't properly hear the question and answered standing at attention: “I report, General Secretary, we dove to a maximum of 7,062 meters.” Obviously, he only had deep diving on his mind. The several years older “big brother” Ye Cong was more composed and immediately answered for him: “Tang Jialing is 29 years old, he's a recipient of the May 4th Medal.” “No wonder you looked familiar to me, we sat across from each other at the May 4th Youth event the other day!” said the General Secretary kindly. After the meeting, this became the subject of friendly jokes with Tang Jialing.

In fact, since the successful 7,000-meter-class sea test, the manned submersible “Jiaolong” and its sea test team had become stars in the hearts of the nation.

On October 26, 2012, the previous General Secretary of the CPC Hu Jintao and all members of the Standing Committee of the Politburo visited the exhibition “Glorious Achievements of Scientific Development” at the Beijing Exhibition Center. Before the “Jiaolong” model displayed by the State Oceanic Administration, Hu Jintao and others stopped, viewed it with great interest, and had the accompanying Director of the State Oceanic Administration Liu Cigui inform them in detail about the development and sea test of “Jiaolong.” Shortly afterward, the Party Central Committee decided on the commendation.

Both the high-level audience and the attention and commendation for “Jiaolong” reflected the recognition and high appreciation of the Party Central Committee and State Council for manned deep-diving work. China's achievements in the field of deep-sea research are only a reflection of the comprehensive development of the ocean project.

After all, the times are different. Today, for people who have made great contributions, there is not only highest honor but also economic rewards—as with the National Science and Technology Progress Award, with Olympic champions, with the Lu Xun Literature Prize. The medal awarded to the “Heroes of Manned Deep Diving” was a genuine gold medal worth 200,000 yuan. Of course, their achievements cannot be measured in money.

What a difference from before! Let us remember the “Two Bombs, One Satellite” pioneer Deng Jiaxian, who was asked by his old classmate, Nobel Prize winner Yang Zhenning, how much prize money he had received for developing the atomic bomb—at first he was silent, then after repeated urging he raised one finger.

“100,000? Renminbi or US dollars?” Yang Zhenning didn't understand.

“10 yuan Renminbi.”

“What? You're not joking. How is that possible!”

“It's true, no joke,” Deng Jiaxian answered seriously. “We people just wanted to do something for the country. At that time we were over twenty people, and each individual received exactly 10 yuan.”

“That...” Yang Zhenning sighed for a while, didn't know what to say.

In that era, when the entire Chinese people were ready to give everything for the “nation's defense weapons,” in the context of Chairman Mao Zedong's determined order “We must develop nuclear-powered submarines, even if it takes 10,000 years,” many Chinese scientists were willing to give up good living conditions abroad, leave family and business behind, endure hardships, even work in obscurity under false names, stake their lives for the cause, to create a secure sky, secure lands, and secure seas for today's people. They did this not for prize money, but so the Chinese nation would never again be oppressed!

Today we're better off, we can generously reward heroes and people who have made contributions, but that spirit, that attitude, that élan must be passed on from generation to generation, the past must be continued and the future must be opened...

Simultaneously, the Ministry of Personnel and Social Security and the State Oceanic Administration made a decision to commend advanced collectives and individuals of the 7,000-meter-class sea test of the manned submersible “Jiaolong”: 22 collectives, including the Underwater Engineering Development Department of the 702nd Institute of the China Shipbuilding Industry Corporation and the Submarine Research Department of the 701st Institute, were awarded the honorary title “Heroic Collective of the Jiaolong 7,000-meter Sea Test,” and 19 comrades, including Xu Qinan, Liu Feng, and Liu Xincheng, were awarded the honorary title “Hero of the Jiaolong 7,000-meter Sea Test.”

The decision stated: “All units and ocean workers participating in the research and tests of 'Jiaolong' should learn from the honored exemplary collectives and heroes, rally closely around the Party Central Committee with Comrade Xi Jinping as General Secretary, earnestly study and implement the spirit of the 18th Party Congress of the CPC, hold high the great banner of socialism with Chinese characteristics, seize opportunities, pioneer, cooperate, and bravely climb peaks, to make new and greater contributions to comprehensively promoting the rapid and good ocean project of China and the early realization of the magnificent goal of a strong maritime nation.”

At 10:30 a.m., to the sounds of the “March of the Volunteers,” the commendation ceremony officially began. Reporters from “Zhongguo Haiyang Bao,” Gao Yue and Sun Anran, conducted on-site interviews and promptly wrote a report titled “Moved Heart, Lofty Mission, Heavy Load,” which authentically and enthusiastically reproduced the scene at that time:

From the stormy Pacific to the solemn Great Hall of the People in Beijing they came... On May 17, the developers, dive pilots, and technical support personnel of the manned submersible “Jiaolong” stepped one after another onto the stage of commendation for Chinese manned deep diving, carried honor and dreams with them, and met again.

If you ask what left the deepest impression in 2012, many won't forget that in midsummer above the Pacific, the liberated form of the Chinese “dragon” appeared. This red-and-white Chinese “dragon” leaped powerfully into the sea and strode unwaveringly to the ocean floor of the deep ocean...

Commendations, award ceremonies, handshakes, thank-yous... In this moment, as they received the gleaming medals and red certificates, lofty titles were conferred, one exemplary collective after another, one hero of manned deep diving after another...

In the Great Hall of the People, high music sounded, true feelings surged, warm applause wouldn't end. Hard work and dedication were not in vain. In the development and sea test of “Jiaolong,” they had no units from which they came, only positions. Stirred and inspired by the rigorous, realistic, cooperative, fighting, and devoted spirit of Chinese manned deep diving, they dared to be pioneers, to take responsibility, repeatedly created new records and repeatedly broke records, let the vast Pacific witness the magnificent undertaking of the Chinese nation to advance into the sea...

Yet at this solemn and enthusiastic event, in this glorious and honorable moment, an important person was missing. Who was she?

Do we remember? When various sides argued about whether the manned deep-diving submersible with great diving depth was even a necessary project and whether sea tests could be conducted, he used his comprehensive knowledge about deep-sea diving and his special position as a renowned scientist to write a submission out of public interest for the strength of the nation, in which he explained pros and cons and recommended immediate implementation.

Do we remember? During the four-year test phase on the stormy sea, he gave up excellent working and living conditions abroad and resolutely decided to go through thick and thin together with the test team. Faced with the enormous risks of the first dive, he, already over fifty years old, always demanded to dive first, which enormously encouraged and inspired the young generation, which is why he was called the “anchor of stability.”

Do we remember? At the rigorous and standardized on-site acceptance inspection with several hundred data points, he willingly took on the role of advisor to the high command and head of the technical expert group. After each sea test, he led experts from various fields to carefully summarize and submit improvement suggestions, which ensured that “Jiaolong” made great progress year by year until it finally perfectly passed the acceptance inspection...”

It doesn't need many more words: He is Professor Cui, who from beginning to end tirelessly worked for “Jiaolong” and made extraordinary contributions! “Jiaolong” was successful, but he declared he needed no self-promotion. The state respected his decision but didn't forget his merits and nevertheless awarded him the honorary title “Hero of Manned Deep-Sea Diving.” He rightfully deserves it!

Thus, a total of 8 people were appointed “Deep-Sea Heroes,” all of them scientists and test pilots with outstanding achievements, fearless courage, and dives over 7,000 meters depth. Only on the large red honor board and in the recordings of China Central Television was no photo of Professor Cui to be seen, but merely a gold-gleaming medal!

He is a true hero in obscurity who seeks neither fame nor reward. Like once Deng Jiaxian, Qian Xuesen, and other scientists, he dedicates all his intelligence and wisdom wholeheartedly to the beloved fatherland and the revival of the nation. He resembles a bright morning star that, when the morning glow filled the entire sky, faded away with a satisfied smile...

In the ancient Orient there is a dragon, its name is China...

The dragon is in the ancient legends of our country a scaled and bearded mystical creature that can summon clouds and rain. The ancestral humans Fuxi and Nüwa both had a dragon body and human head and are also called “dragon ancestors.” Therefore, the dragon has been for millennia the totem of the Chinese people and the symbol of the Chinese nation. The children who live on this land, as descendants of the dragon, are industrious, brave, and wise, created a magnificent history and glorious civilization. But even the giant dragon once declined, sank into mud and ditches, and was mocked and bullied by fish, turtles, shrimp, and crabs...

The deep sea and the ocean, that is the true world of the dragon, the stage on which it shows its abilities. The rise of the dragon must first resolutely proceed from the sea. After the founding of the People's Republic of China, especially since entering the new era of reform and opening up, importance is attached to the oceans and their strategic use is advanced—the eastern dragon gathers its forces and raises its head to heaven.

The 21st century is the century of the oceans, the trend color of the future world is deep blue: blue economy, blue culture, blue dream of a strong nation...

Seen this way, China's successful development of the manned deep-diving submersible has immeasurably profound historical and current significance.

That our Party and government as well as the people give “Jiaolong,” which suddenly appeared, the same high attention as to the space and moon landing project is only logical and natural. As far as technical specifications and functions are concerned, China's “Jiaolong” shot into the sky and aroused worldwide sensation by surpassing in one step all currently existing deep-diving submersibles of similar type in the world.

With a length of 8.2 meters, a width of 3.0 meters, and a height of 3.4 meters, it weighs empty no more than 22 tons but can carry a maximum payload of 240 tons and reaches a maximum speed of 25 nautical miles per hour with a cruising speed of only one nautical mile per hour. The currently achieved maximum diving depth is 7,062.68 meters, while the maximum working depth is designed for 7,000 meters. With this, it can be deployed in the vast ocean areas that comprise 99.8 percent of the world's ocean surface. The submersible has five main functions and three crucial technological advantages...

The golden autumn wind blows gently, the clouds are thin and the sky shines in majestic height.

Autumn had come, and autumn is the most beautiful season of the whole year in Beijing. The sky glows in deep blue, the water shimmers in fresh green, the wind strokes softly and gently across the city, and even the cicadas that had screamed all summer with restless excitement in shrill voices had now become tame and well-mannered, their calls sounded mild and harmonious. The children who had just left the hot vacation time behind and now entered schools again were lively and lovable, full of energy and drive.

On September 1, 2014, Beijing Huiwen First Elementary School held a solemn opening ceremony for the start of the school year. At the same time, under the motto “Promoting Chinese Children's Dreams: Deep-Sea Exploration and Moon Conquest,” an extraordinarily significant and at the same time very practical event for science popularization and patriotic education was conducted.

Zhang Kailiang, who once participated with me in the first phase of the experimental scientific expedition of “Jiaolong” in 2014-2015, works as a natural science teacher at precisely this school. He told the children exciting stories about the dives of “Jiaolong” and showed them experimental objects that had been taken into the ocean depths by the deep-sea pilots. In doing so, he guided the children to conduct experimental investigations to explore the question “How great is the pressure of seawater?” At the same time, he presented the district and school flags that had dived together with “Jiaolong” into the depths. Moreover, the school had, in cooperation with the Oceanographic Office as part of the “Big Hands Lead Little Hands” project for science education, created a ten-meter-long scroll on which the scientific dreams of the students were recorded in the form of a timeline. The first generation of Chinese deep-sea pilots Ye Cong, Tang Jialing, and Fu Wentao had all signed it.

What pleased the children most of all was the fact that Liu Feng, the uncle who served as chief commander of the test voyages and scientific expeditions of the manned submersible “Jiaolong,” had also accepted the school's invitation and met with teachers and students for an exchange. He is one of the great meritorious contributors who accompanied “Jiaolong” from project approval to successful completion. Over more than ten years, he had together with his team wholeheartedly successfully accomplished two major tasks for the country: On the one hand, he had actively advocated for and coordinated the development of “Jiaolong”; on the other hand, proceeding from the practical application of the submersible, he had advanced the establishment of the National Deep-Sea Bureau. After the four-year test phase was completed, Liu Feng was appointed Director of the Oceanographic Bureau. His work was extremely intensive and time-consuming, so normally he could hardly muster the energy for additional activities.

But when he received the official invitation from Huiwen First Elementary School, he nevertheless agreed without hesitation: “Good, no matter how busy I am, I'll make the time to meet the children. Ocean education must begin with the little ones!” Together with Li Xiangyang, his deputy commander with whom he had successfully completed the four-year test phase, he came punctually to the school and was warmly welcomed by the principal, teachers, and students.

In the clean and bright classroom, student representatives tied Liu Feng and Uncle Li Xiangyang bright red Young Pioneer neckerchiefs.

They raised their hands high above their heads and saluted with the Young Pioneer salute. Afterward, accompanied by thunderous applause, the children sat quietly and devoutly.

With big, expectant eyes, they listened to the two uncles' narrations about the legendary adventures and deep significance of ocean exploration with Jiaolong.

Liu Feng stood before the class, rested his hands on the desk, and let his gaze wander through the room. In doing so, he seemed transported back to his own youth, back to the small village school in the southwest of Shandong Province. Of course, today's times were completely different, like from another world. He said: “Dear students, hello! Standing here gives me the feeling of being an elementary school student again. Only that as a child I can't be compared with you—we didn't have such a beautiful campus and such beautiful classrooms, and certainly not such diverse and enriching activities like this science popularization about the ocean. Therefore, I really envy you very much, and you must absolutely treasure this opportunity!”

At this point, he made a brief pause and then asked: “Now I'd like to ask you, who among you has already been to the sea and seen the ocean?” “I've seen the ocean, I was in Beidaihe...” “Me too, during summer vacation I was in Qingdao...” The children eagerly raised their little hands and chattered like excited little birds. “Very good, very good! Life is better today, many of you have traveled with your parents to coastal cities. But even those who've never been there have surely already seen the ocean in books, on television, or in films. The ocean is big and deep, and rich biological and mineral resources are hidden within it. I'd like to ask you another question: How big is our China actually?” “I know it, I know it—9.6 million square kilometers...” “Yes, that's what it says in the textbooks. In fact, we additionally possess over three million square kilometers of blue territory—these are the sea areas of our national territorial waters and exclusive economic zones. Deep beneath the seawater there is petroleum, natural gas, manganese nodule deposits, and all sorts of strange marine organisms. Our 'Jiaolong' dives precisely down there to explore the secrets that are hidden there. But that's still far from enough—in the future we'll need many more 'Jiaolong' submersibles. I hope that from childhood you'll love the ocean, study diligently, and later become ocean scientists to make your contribution to building a strong maritime power. Are you willing?”

“Yes! I'm willing!...” The innocent, dreaming elementary school students stretched their little rosy faces upward and called enthusiastically in confusion.

They radiated in gleaming brilliance. Ah! That is the true Chinese “Jiaolong,” the rising “Chinese Dragon”! thought Liu Feng, and in his heart a wave of enthusiasm swelled, mighty like the ocean's surf...

(Joint publication by the Writers Publishing House and the Qingdao Publishing House, 2016)

Yuan Longping's World (Excerpt)

Chen Qiwen

This is a race akin to a struggle between life and death, an iron law that cannot be circumvented: population and food supply must remain in proportion to each other. Once food production fails to keep pace with population growth, a food crisis will emerge. The English economist Thomas Robert Malthus (1766-1834) argued that population grows geometrically while food production increases only arithmetically. Food production can never keep pace with population growth, creating a severe contradiction between these two fundamental human needs. Given China's enormous population and massive demographic base, even purchasing all the grain available for export worldwide would leave a food crisis unmanageable—China's colossal appetite could not be satisfied. This was the wake-up call issued to the world by Lester Brown, director of the American Worldwatch Institute: Who will feed China?

Foreword

The Wake-Up Call

The years flow by like a river whose bottom cannot be seen. Some events from the past are carried away by wind and water, some settle stubbornly on the riverbed over long periods, and still others transform into the leading wave that propels the wave behind it. Yuan Longping is a man who never dwells on memories. His eyes were never deeply immersed in the past but always looked toward the future with the curiosity of a freshly opened gaze full of longing.

Those who actually keep looking back are we who pursue history. Perhaps as outsiders we see more clearly—in sudden retrospection we often recognize the true nature of things for the first time. For the continuation and further development of Chinese hybrid rice, 1995 was an extraordinarily decisive year. That year, with the successful breeding of China's independently developed two-line hybrid rice, another mysterious and marvelous door was pushed open in the field of hybrid rice and hereditary breeding. Everything that came after was no longer a question of suspense but only needed to be confirmed step by step through time. Moreover, many other things occurred that year that deserve to be recorded in the annals of history or in Yuan Longping's chronicle. In May, after repeatedly failing election to the Chinese Academy of Sciences, he was finally elected as an academician of the Chinese Academy of Engineering under universal expectation. In October, he received the honor medal from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations for “Ensuring Food Security.” On December 16, the National Hybrid Rice Engineering Technology Research Center was officially established based on the Hunan Hybrid Rice Research Center. From then on, he served as both director of the Hunan Hybrid Rice Research Center and director of the National Hybrid Rice Engineering Technology Research Center, bearing a dual responsibility and mission.

Yuan Longping's personal experience taught him that with every significant breakthrough, one ages by many years. He began research on the two-line method at age 57, and now he was already 66 years old. An ordinary person would have retired and enjoyed life at leisure. But for him, life had just opened a new door. “The pass is steep as iron, yet today we stride forward, forward, green mountains like a sea, the evening sun like blood.” This poem by a great man from the Long March was particularly fitting to describe his state of mind at the time. This was a path full of mighty passes—the passes were steep, the roads endless, heavy as iron and infinitely long. Each time he conquered a pass, he had to start over and devise new plans, and before him there were always still green mountains like a sea and the evening sun like blood. Without that powerful and healthy spirit and indomitable will, he would never have dared take the next step and overcome the next pass. And in the future he would repeatedly surpass himself and launch one campaign after another.

Just as two-line hybrid rice began to be applied and disseminated in production, a wave of super hybrid rice research had long since begun internationally. Super hybrid rice, fully called “Super High-Yield Hybrid Rice” (Super Rice), abbreviated as super rice. Once again it was the Japanese who made the first move. As early as 1981, Japan's Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries coordinated the country's major rice research institutions to carry out a large-scale cooperative project titled “Development of Ultra-High-Yielding Varieties and Establishment of Cultivation Techniques”—the “Reverse 753 Plan.” This made Japan the first country in the world to initiate ultra-high-yield breeding and cultivation research for rice. According to their planned schedule, they would first breed new varieties with high yield potential through crossing indica and japonica rice to utilize heterosis between subspecies. Supplemented by appropriate cultivation techniques, they planned to increase rice yields by more than half within 15 years (from 420-540 kilograms per mu to 630-810 kilograms per mu). In the eight years from 1981 to 1988, Japan bred a total of five ultra-high-yielding varieties (Akenoboshi, Akiriki, Hoshiyutaka, Sho, and Dairiki). According to the plan, Japan's vision should have been realized in 1995—and 1995 was precisely the year when China's independently developed two-line hybrid rice was successfully completed. The difference was that China's two-line hybrid rice succeeded, while Japan—similar to their earlier experiences with hybrid rice research—never lost at the starting line but always failed halfway. The varieties they bred mostly had problems with cold resistance, lodging resistance, grain filling rate, and rice quality. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't leave their experimental fields and disseminate their varieties on a large scale in the field.

The International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) started later. In 1989, a plan for breeding ultra-high-yielding rice was officially presented, later renamed the “New Plant Type” breeding program. They attempted to breed a new plant type of rice that differed from previously improved varieties and planned to develop varieties by the year 2000 with a yield potential exceeding the then-best varieties by more than 20 percent (from 670 kilograms to 800-830 kilograms per mu). In 1994, one year before Yuan Longping announced that China's independently developed two-line hybrid rice was ready for application, IRRI announced to the world that they had successfully bred new super rice varieties using new plant types and special germplasm resources. Some lines had achieved yields in small-scale trials that were 20 to 30 percent higher than current widely disseminated varieties. Honestly speaking, this was already a remarkable achievement. But in reality, like the Japanese scientists, they encountered many problems they couldn't overcome. The utilization of heterosis between subspecies remained like a theoretical vision on paper. Had they succeeded, they would have advanced directly beyond the two-line method into the era of super rice. Although these pioneers were not successful, one cannot deny that their explorations were pioneering and significant. Yuan Longping never used terms like “failure” for their explorations and attempts but merely said: “Due to high goals, great difficulties, and limitations of technical routes, they are still striving to realize their plans.” In other words: their goals have not been achieved to this day. Precisely because it was so difficult to achieve a fundamental breakthrough in super rice and research remained unsuccessful for years, it was called a “super myth” by people.

So could the Chinese scientists under Yuan Longping's leadership, following China's independent two-line method, transform this “super myth” into real super rice? When Yuan Longping turned his gaze to super rice, some were already sweating blood and water for him early on. According to general opinion, with the successful completion of three-line hybrid rice research, he had already gained fame and prestige and become the internationally recognized “Father of Hybrid Rice.” Now he had placed another crown on his head with the successful breeding of two-line hybrid rice. The most important thing now was to preserve his reputation and not take any more risks. Moreover, he was really not the youngest anymore, and after all these years in wind and rain, he should finally enjoy his well-deserved happiness. In fact, both before and at this time, there were people who cautioned him with good intentions: “You are now recognized by your international colleagues as the 'Father of Hybrid Rice.' The country and the province place great hopes in you. What if you fail and ruin your good reputation?”

This concern was not unfounded. Every scientific research carries the possibility of failure, and the probability of failure is far higher than that of success. Some say success is “one case in ten thousand”—not just one in ten thousand, but even rarer—while failure constitutes “ten thousand cases.” How many scientists in this world research silently and unnoticed, and how few of them attain fame and success? Given such vanishingly small odds of success, some successful scientists tended to quit while they were ahead—a fairly widespread attitude. Some who had achieved a result cherished and nurtured it in every conceivable way and became overly cautious on the path of scientific exploration, fearing that a single misstep might destroy their hard-won lifelong reputation. But in Yuan Longping's life horizon, it was by no means about his personal fame. His life goal was to serve humanity. Moreover, it is a natural law that the following wave propels the leading wave, and the renewal of hybrid rice is an inevitable trend. Yuan Longping always sincerely encouraged successors and hoped they would surpass him, and he himself constantly surpassed himself. Yuan Longping, who loved sports all his life, could come this far because he had always trained his body since childhood. Sports also let him recognize the philosophy of life and science within. He used to use the high jump as a comparison: “Scientific research is like high jumping—when you've cleared one height, the next height awaits you. If you don't jump, you'll fall behind sooner or later. Even if you don't make it, you can leave experience for successors. As long as you can solve the food problem of ordinary people, what do personal honor and shame matter?”

From the three-line method to the two-line method, Yuan Longping always advanced solidly and calmly, but he also felt pressure and urgency. He once said: “The history of humanity is like the water of a river, constantly flowing. Science and technology resemble a relay race where people chase each other and the stronger prevails. Hybrid rice research in our country is like river water, like the race—in the Green Revolution we chase each other, the situation is pressing, the pressure is great.”

Every person has a mouth and must be able to eat their fill. This is also the unwavering will of a nation, namely to ensure national food security. And just before Yuan Longping made this decision, Lester Brown, director of the American Worldwatch Institute, posed the question to China and the world in September 1994: “Who Will Feed China?”—a question some called the “wake-up call.” His 141-page report also had an ominous subtitle: “Wake-Up Call from a Small Planet.” In the vast, immeasurable universe, Earth is just an insignificant small planet. Brown posed this question against the backdrop of China increasingly integrating into globalization. In the context of globalization, poverty and hunger transcend national borders and are no longer matters that one country can settle behind closed doors, but problems that all humanity must face together. His concern was actually not about China but about the world. If the Chinese cannot feed themselves, they will let the world go hungry. Hunger had always been an inescapable nightmare for this ancient, enormous nation. And the questions he raised were indeed a series of catastrophic and difficult-to-solve problems, which some also called “Brown's curse”—a hungry China seemed like a giant shadow covering the entire Earth.

This American observer, who worried about global food problems but pointed his finger at China, became even more famous in China than the American scientist and “Father of the Green Revolution” Norman Borlaug, who had made combating hunger his mission. Regardless of whether Brown harbored ill intentions or was making unnecessary worries—let's first look at how the “Father of Hybrid Rice” Yuan Longping viewed the matter. He and Brown had met once. That was when he attended an international conference in Canada, which Brown also attended. At that time, however, they didn't know each other yet, and Yuan Longping never proactively approached international figures to make connections, so the two had no direct exchange. The closest they came was in the restaurant, though they didn't sit at the same table. A friend pointed out to Yuan Longping that this was the famous Mr. Brown. In that fleeting glance, Mr. Brown left a deep impression on him: “A very profound person.” Regarding Brown's wake-up call, Yuan Longping said: “His reasoning is very well-founded. He knows China's situation inside and out—the population growth, the annual decrease in cultivated land, water resources, and so on.” The problems listed by Brown would be the three major challenges that China would face in the 21st century: population, land, and water resources. And all the data he cited were verifiable, and his predictions for the future were based on precise calculations.

Here it's worth doing the math. Since grain directly corresponds to population, the Chinese have long been accustomed to calling grain “mouth grain.” Let's first look at population. In 1995, China had two directly corresponding announcements: in August, Yuan Longping announced the birth of two-line hybrid rice, and at midnight on February 15, a crying baby born in a Beijing maternity hospital announced the birth of China's 1.2 billionth citizen. According to forecasts by the National Bureau of Statistics, China's population would reach its peak in 2030 (1.48 billion) and gradually decline thereafter. Let's set aside this forecast peak for now and look only at population growth over the past 20 years, which has evolved from forecast to reality. Although our country has pursued a one-child policy since 1970 (the pilot phase started even earlier), the population still grew to 1.4 billion. Some estimate that the number has already exceeded 1.4 billion when you include people not registered for various reasons. And whether they're included in statistics or not—everyone with a mouth needs to eat. In the coming 15 years, with the complete release of the two-child policy, a net population growth of 200 million people on this enormous base is still a very conservative estimate. In fact, the Chinese government has always calculated with 1.6 billion people as the peak and considered this the major premise for national food security.

Now, let's calculate according to the internationally recognized grain standard (500 kilograms per capita): Anyone can solve this simple arithmetic problem: 1.6 billion × 500 kilograms = 800 billion kilograms. In 1996, China's grain production reached a historical peak of 480 billion kilograms. With a population of 1.2 billion at the time, this meant 400 kilograms per capita—this reached the poverty line but was still below the internationally recognized grain standard. Now let's calculate an even simpler subtraction problem for grain demand at China's peak population: 800 billion kilograms minus 480 billion kilograms—how large is this gap? Even today, with data from the State Council's 2015 government work report, “China's grain production reached 1.21 trillion jin” (that's market jin, not kilograms), just over 600 billion kilograms, there's still nearly 200 billion kilograms missing to reach the required 800 billion kilograms. This strikingly coincides with Brown's prediction that China would need to net import 200 million tons of grain when reaching its peak population in the 2030s—that is, 200 billion kilograms. And this number exactly corresponds to the annual total international trade volume of grain. These simple arithmetic problems lead to a cruel conclusion: Brown's wake-up call is by no means unfounded pessimism. If China's grain increase doesn't keep pace with population growth and there isn't enough grain to fill this huge gap, one would have to buy up the entire global grain trade to fill the enormous gap that emerges when feeding 1.6 billion Chinese. But what would the other grain-importing countries eat then? This is the catastrophic consequence that Brown predicted: China's grain shortage would lead to global grain shortage, exploding grain prices, and trigger a global food crisis. Whether China itself experiences a food crisis or transfers the crisis to the world—this huge grain gap cannot be eliminated from this small planet Earth; it would have to be filled with the lives of hundreds of millions of people!

Grain corresponds not only directly to population but also directly to soil, water, climate, and ecology. Regarding cultivated land: “China feeds 22 percent of the world's population with 7 percent of the world's cultivated land, that is, 1.2 billion people”—this always fills the Chinese with pride and is indeed a great contribution China makes to the world, but also a great constraint. Since the founding of the People's Republic of China, farmland has been largely exploited to its limit. The population steadily increased, while cultivated land has continuously decreased since the 1950s. After the 1980s, with the acceleration of the economy and urbanization through reform and opening up, China's farmland decreased by an average of 3 million mu (200,000 hectares) annually—equivalent to losing the food base for 5 million people per year. Even if China strictly defends the red line of 1.8 billion mu of farmland, that's only the lower limit. This “7 percent of the world's cultivated land” cannot be increased. Besides insufficient cultivated land, there are also insufficient water resources: China's per capita water availability is only about one-quarter of the global average. In the agricultural era, one could just barely survive, but once the country entered industrialization, urbanization, and modernization, the increasingly serious water crisis and water problems caused by pollution, as well as frequent natural disasters, massively threatened China's agriculture. Soil erosion intensified—all these catastrophic crises accumulated and posed an extremely serious threat to China's food security.

From this it can be seen that the three major challenges Brown listed were by no means malicious. He merely revealed in advance a harsh and grim reality that many of our compatriots didn't want to face. This is not only China's problem but a global problem. As already said: the entire Earth is just a small planet, and the world population is growing rapidly at unprecedented speed. At the threshold of the new millennium, the United Nations Population Division calculated using mathematical methods based on statistical data that Earth's 6 billionth inhabitant would be born on a day in October 1999. On May 4 of that

Da Jilu/en/Band 5

The Great Report — Volume 5

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