The Tale of Yellow River - Part One

The Tale of Yellow River

黃�™�故事

What is that? Like ants, some small, some not so small, many are moving across the ground. They are in fact people. Yet, where do they come from?! From far far away where the sun sets beyond the colossal mountains called the Himalaya. 

In a place with palm trees and great rivers, many of them had worked together with all types of people, pale and dark skinned, green, blue and brown eyed, in constructing a building scraping the sky, until Shang Di the God of Heaven was furious with their pride. So Shang Di made everyone speak different languages and many tribes decided to leave to find new lands to inhabit. One of those tribes was the Xia tribe.

Their great grandparents before them had walked for many months until their feet hurt and had blisters just to find the perfect place for their children. Some of them stopped at beautiful blue lakes found on the way, and built new villages. The ones who remained kept on walking and were bitterly disappointed to find only hills so dry trees didn’t grow.

 

During the day it was hot and windy, slowing the travellers down and during the night it got icy cold and so they had to wrap up in warm clothes in their tents. One of the scouts had shouted that he had found snow. But it turned out to be only a mound of salt made by the burning sun. The chieftain told them to gather some in the bags and to leave this place as nothing would grow near here.

After a few years they went Southwards and they had tears in their eyes as they saw all types of trees. They had never seen trees like these with the branches spread out and thin leaves hanging from them. The Chieftain, who was now an old man, told them to celebrate and the children tied pieces of fabric onto the branches. They drank sweetened water and milk from their cattle. The Chieftain’s wife saw a mountain with a flat top and pointed to it with the Chieftain and in response he summoned his men and told them to take some wood and stone up to the top to make an altar to thank the Maker of All in the Xientang or Heavens by burning a sheep as sacrifice to the Heavenly Ruler. Just like they used to with their larger eyed cousins between the palm trees. Then he asked his helpers, who were knowledgeable in the stars, to locate the polar star, because it was known as the Star of Supreme and that night they showed him that star and the Chieftain said he recognised the red colour of the star from before and was delighted to see it.

 

The next month the Chieftain, who was called Shun, called on the people to join him at night and they all did, including the very oldest woman who was older than one hundred years old with a bent back and much adored by the whole tribe. They killed the sheep and the Chieftain said out loud: ‘Oh Almighty Shang Di, You come to us in your majesty. You discern all that is happening for the peace of the people. Heaven loves the people, the Ruler, me, should honour Heaven. I present this memorial to you, O Di, Sovereign of the Universe. You are our Father. I am dull and unenlightened, I praise and honour your abundant love.’

At that the smoke bellowed upwards to the sky and the people bowed down low and said that they would follow this good man Shun anywhere and from that day they called him Emperor Shun.

The Chieftain's uncle leaned his chin on his walking stick and said to the King, 'My dear Nephew, it's splendid news. Let us start settling from here. The valley ahead looks ideal.' The wrinkled man grinned and continued, 'The ground is yellow and wet but if you whack the mud with sticks it will become firm. From the solid mud you will be able to build all sorts of buildings for a village.'

The Chieftain's cheekbones lifted upwards and his eyes glistened like the milky illumination of the moon, 'You are right, my old wise uncle. I want the tribe to thrive in this new land. We will make houses to live in, a town hall to hold court matters, a granary to keep our harvested items nice and dry. And in a few decades, when there are villages dotting the hills down to the horizon, we shall build bazaars to buy and sell things. Tomorrow we will set off and check out the wide river flowing in the heart of the valley ahead.'

'Before I go back to my tent, I want to tell you you really need a new horse. Your one is small and you look like you will fall off it any day. Why don't you try one of those larger horses that your guards use.'

'Okay, because YOU suggested it. I'll miss my horse even though he is too small. Rest well.'

As planned, the tribe left the altar and hiked on a downward slope where many birds would sing and fly over them in circles taunting them with their dance in the air.

The wind was average, blowing a pleasant draft to cool them from the heat of the sun and some of the straw hats they had made to protect them from the sun rays, had become old and torn and full of holes.

The ground near the bottom of the valley was covered in lush grass and butterflies fluttered by. Now they could hear the gushing of the river. Twenty of the group stayed there to build a village in front of the 黛眉山 Daimei Mountain and they called it 黛眉�' Daimei Village.

The rest carried on and they came across three towering gorges like someone’s elongating fingers. The sun shone on the gorges causing one side to be fiery orange and the other a dark shade.

A few days later they were at a long stretch of land that grew into the river itself with hundreds of scenic islets and inlets and this time, thirty men and their wives told the Emperor that they would settle there and pursue fishing. 

The travellers walked on and they noticed the river was getting narrow and on the riverside they beheld flat ground ideal for farming cattle and growing vegetables. The Emperor was beaming with excitement and satisfaction. He divided them all into two groups and announced: ‘My dear people, our travels have come to an end. We sorted out lands like these and here we are in this enchanted garden of delight. I will travel half a day south with my group and the other group must walk half a day north so that we are still not too far from the Yellow River. Make sure you do not go beyond a mountain. There we will settle and have children and our children’s children shall remain there. We will keep contact and remain as one nation.’ Some women wept at the news. That evening they drank and sang merrily before departing.

Twenty or so years later, the beard on the Emperor’s chin had turned silver and there were villages all dotted in the flatlands and slopes. Wooly sheep ate grass in pens and fishermen collected fish from the nets. In the villages children were being taught in classrooms, men worked in the nearby woodlands felling trees and women worked in rice paddies. There were kiosks selling large plums, dried prunes and millet grain with heads like hairy caterpillars that had been stored since the harvest. In one village a musician experimented with bamboo making them into pipes to play as an instrument while his student expressed herself on a simple stringed instrument 古筝, plucking the strings with a tortoiseshell pluck on his fingers.

The Emperor was taking a nap on his rocking chair on a balcony when his servant nudged him to wake him up. He bowed, ‘Sorry to disturb you Emperor but dark clouds are approaching.’ The Emperor looked up and on the horizon to the East were clouds as thick as black soot coming towards them. ‘You are forgiven, servant,’ he remarked smiling. ‘Get me inside please before the rain arrives.’ And led by the servant he scuffled to the dry indoors. 

They were deep into a game of weiqi. As the Emperor had got older he had become slower but more skilled at the game. He moved his white stone on the board and his opposition, who was his younger sister, sighed and realised she was losing to him again. The rain could be heard now pounding ferociously on the roof. ‘It’s much heavier than ever before,’ she said, raising her voice. She peeped through a shutter and the rain was as thick as the river’s gushes. ‘Hopefully it will stop soon.’

To their surprise the rain continued to pour down hours after the Emperor's sister conceding defeat in their game. The servant stumbled through the front door, his clothes dripping. ‘Ah, you are soaked, dear servant,’ she said. ‘Come near the fire and I will fetch a towel so you can dry yourself.’

‘What were you thinking?’ asked the Emperor, giggling. The servant shrugged his shoulders, ‘I went out to fetch some vegetables for the soup. Your wife and her kitchen staff said they needed them.’ He pointed at the heavy sack on the ground beside him.

‘Is there any sign of the rain stopping?’

‘To be honest, it looks like it will continue for now, sire. I am afraid some of the fields looked wrecked.’

The Emperor stood up and put his head in his hands and thought to himself, ‘We cannot move again.This is our new permanent home. We will stay put and we shall have to fight this new challenge.’

When the storm blew over a day later Emperor Shun put on a woolen shawl over his black, red and gold Hanfu 漢服 for the sky was now light blue and the air looked crisp. He accidentally stepped into a puddle right in front of the door and because of that anticipated serious damage elsewhere. Sadly his estimates were true. The trees in the village had lost lots of their foliage and grain fields adjacent to the village were deep in water and a large proportion of the stalks had been either blown away or washed away with the rain. He walked down the slope towards the river and gasped at the dreadful sigh of a torrent of muddy water flowing downwards. The vegetable patches were completely waterlogged and he observed distraught farmers weeping over their lost livelihood. When he got to the river it had swollen in size, was gushing at double the usual pace and the small natural banks to the side were crumbling with the river's ferocity. A shepherd had found him and informed him his flock was drinking near a stream up the hill when the storm struck and half of his flock of sheep drowned. 

When Shun returned back to his uncle who was now blind, he said nothing. Holding his walking cane he uttered the words, ‘Your silence, sire says it all. It turns out my idea was a terrible one. When will it happen again? In five years? Next year?’

‘Your idea is not the problem. It was my execution of it. I have failed the valleys on this side of the river and on the other side.’ At that the angered Emperor went to his chambers to seek solitude and to meditate on the tragedy.

After much contemplation his mind was cleared and he left his chambers, ‘Tell the people to come to the Royal House immediately. I will speak to them at the Royal Garden.’ he commanded his chief officer who bowed and left at once.

So it was on that unforgettable day Emperor Shun spoke to his loyal subjects speaking from a raised platform. ‘I am aware that your loyalty to my cause has no limits. However, I request with the utmost supremacy and seriousness, that you leave your loyalty to me to one side. I have decided that it is best I resign from my position as Emperor. I will leave this place, travel southwards and settle there somewhere far enough from the threat of overflowing rivers. I am only sixty years of age and I feel life in my bones. I feel for each one of you and hence I will distribute my wealth to the people present in my Royal Garden today.’

The audience oohed at this unexpected abdication and one woman fainted. The farmers, fishermen and potters looked down at the ground crestfallen that their Emperor of humble origins and talented leader was leaving.

‘My dear subjects, to elaborate, I will resign my position when I find a suitable replacement.’

The audience bowed in reverence for his position and increasing wisdom.

And so the grand search began. The Emperor was often found shuffling down streets and drinking hot broth at resting places, his eyes, without let up, observing the men around him. Emperor Shun laughed at some pathetic pretenders, at the same time loving them for trying. Others really caught his eye, like the very capable village heads he had appointed who attended to affairs with rigidity and discipline. He was also impressed by the master of the fishmongers, who had developed the river using wooden jetties and all kinds of nets into a fish-collecting paradise. Then there was Efu who served as taozeng (陶正), the official of who managed the affairs of pottery, which was slowly increasing in productivity. The Emperor also liked the style potters were using under Efu. 

A few weeks went by and Shun had had plenty of time to contemplate who to appoint as the new Emperor. He thought he had made his mind up until  a man entered his office. 

‘Hello, Gun. What brings you here? Do you have news on the flooding patterns?’ The Emperor had appointed Gun as official of combating the river's flooding. 

‘I have a gift for you,’ Gun said, offering a small tin object. Shun thanked him, but thought it was unusual to give gifts without reason.

Gun’s face now looked downwards and his whole appearance was that of humility, ‘Sire, I bring sad tidings. I really desired to stop these floods and I have come to the realisation that I have failed you and the whole Xia people. I am inept and am certainly not the man to solve this crisis.’

Shun put his cheek in his hands and merely nodded.

‘For that reason, I want to thank you Emperor for your faith in me and I hereby relinquish my duties. I strongly recommend my son, Sire, to fill the void and solve this flooding for good.’

‘I accept your resignation,’ Shun said and Gun bowed. ‘On another note Gun, why do you think your son will be more capable than you?’

‘My son, whose name is Yu, is twice the man I am. He is both intellectual and yet resourceful. Naturally, I have passed any knowledge I had on to him and Yu has some insightful ideas on ways to stop the flooding for good.’

‘Very well. I would like to meet your son, to ask him if he is prepared to take over your position as official.’

‘He will be here by this afternoon.’