My Eyes Are Fixed on You
As I clicked on “The Basic Annals of Xiang Yu” in The Records of the Grand Historian by Sima Qian (c.134-90 BC) and rested my eyes on the name Xiang Yu (232-202 BC), known as the Overlord of Western Chu, immediately the deep running waters of Wujiang River that had carried his body, the river bank that had absorbed his blood, and the cold light of his sword that had shone in the darkness of the night, played out before me like a short movie.
You mighty warrior! I can’t imagine you’ve been hiding in the book of history for more than a thousand years.
First Look
As I begin to read your story slowly, I feel compelled to pause and ponder.
207 BC, just a year before the end of the Qin Dynasty (221-206 BC), was a year of change. After assassinating Qin Ershi (Second Qin Emperor) and installing Ziying (Third Qin Emperor) as a puppet on the throne, the treacherous and ruthless eunuch Zhao Gao ruled over the country with a bunch of yes men who went so far as to follow him in calling a deer a horse (Zhao was killed by Ziying later in the same year). As a native of Chu, you were confident enough to predict that “Chu would be the terminator of Qin even if there were only three Chu households left.” And indeed, the 300,000 strong Qin army was not your match.
You made your name after winning the Battle of Julu (in present-day Xingtai, Hebei Province) in 207 BC.
The surrendering dukes who knelt before you in your army tent must have done so out of reverence and admiration for you rather than out of fear of your power. How I rejoice at seeing your valor at this very first meeting of ours after I have traveled through a thousand years! You are indeed a hero of heroes!
Second Look
My second look at your life finds you at a shockingly tight spot.
That moonlit night, the stars were fading away. Behind the curtains of your tent you sipped a lonely drink as your pale-faced Yu danced gracefully. You looked at each other silently, eyes streaming with tears. It was the eighth year of your military career. Through eight cycles of spring flowers and autumn moon you certainly have witnessed all of your remarkable deeds. In the quiet of the night, you could easily recall how you won that decisive battle against Qin through peerless valor and unbending resolve, how you never lost a single battle previously, how you let go of Liu Bang(1) (256-195 BC) at the Hongmen Banquet when you could have easily killed him, how you burned down the Epang Palace…. After triumphing over the hardest battles and the harshest storms ever, how could you possibly reconcile yourself to hitting a snag in a little river? Could your troubled soul find any solace in the amber glow of the moon?
Encircled on all sides by Han enemies who were singing Chu folksongs that made you think they were already conquerors on your home turf, you knew you stood little chance of surviving the battle. But you blinked away the tears that were about to drop into your alcohol goblet any way.
Your Consort Yu took a look at the sword that had made so many shudder as she threw her neck into its long blade. “I shall be dancing with Your Majesty in heaven,” she said, and a stream of blood spurted out of her, producing a red flash of light in the air. You probably wanted to cry like an erupting volcano, but had to suppress the “lava” gushing out of your throat and hold your tears in check.
Mounted on the black steed, you led 300 men in a final attempt to break through, but being outnumbered, you had only 28 men left by the time you reached the bank of Wujiang River. The head of your home village had a boat ready to take you home. An escape and an eventual comeback were still possible, but you had other thoughts. Being aware of the terrible ravages and the deep wounds that war had inflicted on the country, you ruled out that option out of concern for the well-being of your people. Sure enough, you remembered the 8,000 troops you had led forth with you when you first rose in arms, your hometown youths who had perished almost entirely. How aggrieved you must have been! The truth is, you could no longer bring yourself to face your own. So you turned down your village head’s offer of help and gave him your horse as a keepsake.
“A reward of 1,000 catties of gold and a fief of 10,000 households for Xiang Yu’s head,” Liu Bang’s army came hollering in the distance.
Before cutting your own throat, you saw a former subordinate of yours in the midst of a sea of enemy troops. You offered him your head as a trophy for his benefit.
The year was 202 BC.
Farewell
“Like flowers fallen on running waters, spring is no more. Alas! What a change!”(2)
“I so frequently miss Xiang Yu / Who chose death over returning to Jiangdong,” so wrote the poetess Li Qingzhao.
I too, can hardly forget you and I refuse to move my eyes away from you. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you did cross over to the other side of the river.
Farewell, Xiang Yu! Oh, Overlord of Western Chu! I cannot but gaze over remote time and space at you and my eyes refuse to part with you! You are dead, but your spirt shall live forever!
(1)Emperor Gaozu who founded the Han Dynasty after defeating Xiang Yu.
(2)From the poem Lang Tao Sha by Li Yu (c.937-978) of the Southern Tang Dynasty.