18

Yang Balao’s Extraordinary Family Reunion in the Land of Yue

The above ancient-style poem makes the point that fortune or the lack of it is something preordained. Wealth may well come first, only to be followed by a decline into poverty. By the same token, a lowly and humble man may well rise to eminence. The vicissitudes of life are no less capricious than the clouds, and just as unpredictable. A case in point: Scholar Lü Mengzheng of the Song dynasty was in straitened circumstances before his time came. After spending three days without much of a meal, he managed to buy a melon on credit on Tianjin Bridge,³ but when he tried to knock it open against the bridge railing, he lost his grip. The melon fell into the river and floated downstream, without a single bit ever reaching his mouth. Later in his life, he became zhuangyuan, finishing first in the palace examinations. When he rose to be prime minister, he built a pavilion in memory of the lost melon to remind himself of his days of poverty and misfortune. Therefore, we can see that even those destined to be zhuangyuan and prime ministers are not even allowed the joy of a melon if their time has not come. If, let us suppose, someone had announced at the time the melon fell, “This man will attain prosperity and high status in the future,” goodness knows how many grimaces would have been made and how many hundreds of buckets of saliva would have been spat in contempt, for who would have believed him? That is why there is the saying “The future is shrouded in darkness beyond anyone’s reach.”

As another example, in the Song dynasty there was a certain Yang Rengao, who, as a lowly soldier, carried stones and earth for the construction of a mansion for Duke Ding of Jin, the prime minister. He said bitterly, while sweating all over under the summer sun, “We all are human beings born of parents, but how happy are the residents of mansions and how hard is the lot of us laborers! Indeed, ‘He who is richly blessed by fate is served by those not so blessed.’” His complaints were silenced by the whip of the foreman. In a few years’ time, Prime Minister Ding committed an o ense and was demoted to the position of revenue manager of Yazhou, whereas Yang Rengao flourished because some close relative of his married into the royal family. Consequently, he rose to be grand commandant. As a member of the imperial family, he was granted the very mansion that had belonged to Prime Minister Ding. As it turned out, Prime Minister Ding had, in fact, unknowingly served as an overseer for the construction of the mansion for the benefit of none other than Yang Rengao. Truly,

We shall make no more such idle comments but shall get started with our story, titled “Yang Balao’s Extraordinary Family Reunion in the Land of Yue.” This story takes place in the prefecture of Xi’an, Shaanxi, during the Mongol Yuan dynasty, immediately after the Song but well after the Han and Tang dynasties. The prefecture of Xi’an, being part of Yongzhou, according to “The Great Yu’s Laws of the Land” in The Classic of History [Shujing], was named Wangji in the Zhou dynasty, Guanzhong in the Qin dynasty, Weinan in the Han dynasty, Guannei in the Tang dynasty, Yongxing in the Song dynasty, and Anxi in the Yuan dynasty. Our story takes place in the Zhida reign period [1308–11] during the Yuan dynasty. There lived in Zhouzhi County in Xi’an Prefecture a man named Yang Fu with the pet name of Balao [the Eighth] because he was born on the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival in the eighth month. His wife, Li-shi, bore a son who was now an extraordinarily intelligent seven-year-old. They named him Shidao, and the couple’s love for him goes without saying.

One day, Yang Balao took counsel with his wife, saying, “At nearly thirty years of age, I have failed at making a name for myself as a scholar, and family circumstances have been gradually deteriorating. My forefathers were merchants who plied their trade in Fujian and Guangdong. What do you say if I raise some capital, buy some goods, and sell them in Zhangzhou for some profit to support the family?”

Li-shi replied, “It is said that thrift and hard work are the basic principles in maintaining a household. What good is there in waiting at home for some miracle to happen, like the man who waited by a tree for a hare to run into it?⁴ Being in the prime of your life, you are at the right age to travel. Go pack quickly. There is no need to hesitate.”

“That’s all very well said, but our son is so young and you so frail. How can I not worry if I leave you to yourselves?”

“Fortunately, our son is not a child any more. I can take care of his education all by myself. I wish you would go as soon as possible, so as to return all the sooner.” That very day, they made up their minds, and, on a chosen auspicious day, he bade his wife and son farewell and set out on his journey. Taking with him a page boy called Suitong, he took a boat and headed in a southeasterly direction. There is an ancient-style poem describing the trials and tribulations of life as a traveling merchant:

To get on with our story, Yang Balao’s journey took him to Zhangpu County in Zhangzhou Prefecture, where he lodged with Madam Nie and started his business purchasing Cantonese goods. Madam Nie had no son but only one daughter, a twenty-three-year-old widow whose now-deceased husband had lived with them and helped with the household work until a year before. Impressed with Yang Balao’s well-lined pocket, his sincerity and honesty, and his genial manners, Madam Nie grew very fond of him and wanted to have him stay on in the household as a son-in-law to provide for her in her old age. As Yang was reluctant at the beginning, Madam Nie repeatedly o e red the following argument: “Master Yang, being a traveler ten thousand miles from home with no kith and kin around, you have no one to take care of you. Now, my daughter is young enough to be a good match for you. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could set up two households? When you go back home, you’d have your wife to serve you, and when you come to Zhangzhou, you’d have my daughter. In this way, you’d never get lonely, which would be good for your business, too. I’m not asking that you go to a great deal of expense. My only wish is that my daughter, my only child, marry a good man and have sons and daughters, so that I can have someone to fall back on in my old age. Your wife will not take it amiss even if she hears about this. Goodness knows how many travelers throw away their money in brothels, but what I am proposing is within the bounds of decency. Please consider what course would be best in the long run. Do not decline outright.”

Convinced by her reasoning, Yang finally agreed. The wedding ceremony was held on a chosen day, and Yang was thus married into the Nie family. The couple lived in harmony, and the days that went by were uneventful. In less than two months, Nie-shi became pregnant. In due course, she gave birth to a son, to the delight of the entire family. There was much celebration among kith and kin on the third day and again at the end of the first month after the birth of the baby, but of this, we shall speak no further.

In the meantime, Yang Balao missed his wife and child back in Xi’an. He had originally planned to return home for a visit within one year after the wedding. However, he could not very well leave Nie-shi when she was pregnant, and, after the child was born, Nie-shi would not let him go. Time sped by like an arrow. Before they noticed it, three years had gone by since Yang Balao’s arrival, and the boy was now two years old. He was named Shide. Though this name was picked to show that he and Yang’s older son, Shidao, were brothers,⁵ Shide took his mother’s surname and was called Nie Shide.

One day, Yang Balao told Nie-shi that he was going away on a short trip back to Shaanxi to visit his first wife, but that he would return soon. No amount of remonstration from her could hold him back. She could not do otherwise than let him have his way. Yang packed his goods, but before he set out on the journey, he took out some account books and spent the following few days trying to collect payments from customers. Suitong took on part of the job and went on a separate route.

Balao’s own debt-collecting route took him to the district yamen, where he saw a poster saying, “This yamen has received notice from our superiors that Japanese pirates are looting and plundering along the coast. Patrol is to be intensified throughout the prefecture to forestall any invasion. All those leaving and entering by the city gates shall be subject to interrogation. The city gates shall be opened late and closed early,” and so forth. Yang Balao was startled. “I never anticipated that such a warning would be issued just as I was about to leave. If the Japanese pirates do come and the city gates do close, who knows when things will quiet down again? I’d better get out of here before it’s too late.”

Instead of going to the next customer as he had planned, he turned back home, telling Nie-shi that since payments were not to be easily collected on the spot anyway, he could a ord to put the job aside until he came back from the trip. Having heard that pirates were active on his route, he decided not to bring any goods with him. After packing some personal belongings, he was determined to leave the very next day.

Pained at the thought of parting, Nie-shi said to him, carrying their three-year old child in her arms, “My mother married me to you in hopes of having someone to rely on in her old age. Luckily we have this child. For the sake of the child, if not for me, you should by all means come back soon, so as not to make us wait too long.” With these words, tears coursed down her cheeks in spite of herself.

Yang Balao said in an e ort to comfort her, “Don’t worry. We’ve had three years of life as a loving couple. I wouldn’t go away if I had a choice. But it’ll be less than a year before we’ll meet again.” That night, his mother-in-law laid out some wine as a farewell treat.

Early the following morning, Yang Balao rose, washed himself, took leave of his mother-in-law and wife, and set out on his journey with his servant Suitong. Before two days had gone by, what came into view gave him a shock:

What Yang Balao saw was a swarming crowd of people trying to seek refuge in the city. It was said that the Japanese pirates were killing and burning as they advanced. The government troops having failed to check them, they would arrive any moment. Yang was so stricken with terror that he felt as if his soul had left him. Unable to make up his mind which way to go, he thought it best to follow the crowd into the city of Dingzhou before deciding what to do next.

Four hours later, about three li from the city, earth-shaking battle cries were suddenly heard. Those at the back of the mass of refugees broke out into bitter wails, for the Japanese were upon them. Many of the refugees were so frightened that their legs gave way under them. Catching sight of a thicket by the side of the road, Yang Balao made a dash in that direction, followed by quite a crowd, little knowing that ambush was the cunning pirates’ favorite strategy. From among the trees leapt out a Japanese. Thinking he was alone, the refugees were about to take him on when, at a blow on his conch, a host of scimitar-brandishing pirates jumped out from goodness knows where and surrounded them. Several stout-hearted men not untrained in martial arts stepped forward with whatever weapons they had to engage the enemy at the risk of their lives. Like snow thrown into a fire or dust flicked into the wind, they died like chopped melons and vegetables under the enemies’ swords. Appalled at the sight, the rest of the refugees dropped to their knees and begged for mercy.

The fact was that the Japanese pirates did not kill every Chinese they saw. They would ravish captured women until they had had enough and then set the women free. The more sentimental among them would even give the women some gifts. However, these women, although spared their lives, would be held up for ridicule until the end of their lives. As for the men, the old and the weak were killed. Able-bodied men, however, had their heads shaved and brushed with paint, after which they were passed o as Japanese and sent to the front lines of battle. The Chinese government troops would claim a reward for every Japanese head they cut o . Therefore, for the sake of the reward, the soldiers would go so far as to kill bald-headed Chinese civilians and o er their heads up for the reward. As for those captured on the battlefields, none was spared, whether they were Japanese or not. Those fake Japanese with shaven heads knew all too well that they were going to die anyway and figured that by acting their part, they might get to live a few days longer. So they fought with all their might. The real Japanese would wait for the fake ones to bear the brunt of the attack before charging forward. The Chinese troops repeatedly fell for this ploy, and victory remained beyond their reach. A poet of those days had this to say about the Japanese military strategies:

Yang Balao and other civilians fell into the pirates’ hands. Like turtles in a jar with no hope of escape, they had no choice but to submit to the will of their captors in the hope of being spared their lives. Suitong was nowhere to be seen and could well be dead, for all Yang Balao knew. Reduced to such a plight, anyone would be too concerned with himself to worry about others. Let us leave Yang Balao there in his distress but turn our attention to the Japanese, who were in raptures with the gold and valuables they had looted from the villages. When they heard that the imperial army of the Yuan dynasty was heading their way, they seized a great many ships and drove all the captives on board. Merrily, they set out on their return journey to Japan.

As a matter of fact, the Japanese sovereign more often than not had no knowledge of the incursions into China by pirates who were actually poor island residents banding together for voyages across the sea, much as Chinese pirates would do. When out on looting raids, which, to them, were like regular business trips, they divided themselves into di erent tribes, calling the chieftains “great kings”—titles that they stopped using after returning home. Most of the valuables that they looted were equally distributed. Sometimes they would o er ten to twenty percent to the chiefs of the islands to keep them quiet. Those killed by the Chinese were written o as business losses.

Able-bodied captives were kept as servants. With their heads shaven and their feet bare in the Japanese fashion, they were given swords and taught how to jump according to the Japanese way of fighting. The Chinese had to obey out of fear. Within a year, they would grow accustomed to the climate, learn to speak Japanese, and end up looking no di erent from the natives.

Time sped by like an arrow. Before he noticed it, Yang Balao had been living in Japan for nineteen years. Every night he prayed secretly to heaven, “May the gods bless me and let me return to my native land to see my family again.” Winter or summer, there was not a day that went by without this prayer, as these lines attest:

As the story goes, in a lean year in Japan during the Taiding reign period [1324–27] of the Yuan dynasty, pirates again gathered together for an incursion into China, and Yang Balao was brought along. He was filled with mixed feelings, for he rejoiced at the opportunity to go back to China, where he had families in Shaanxi and Fujian.With the blessing of heaven, he might even get to be reunited with his loved ones. At the same time, he was also worried that he looked too much like a Japanese, so much so that his appearance was shocking even to himself at each glimpse into the mirror. How could anyone else recognize him? Moreover, swords and spears knew no mercy. This was an ill-boding voyage that could end with his death. However, there is the saying that it is better to be a ghost in one’s native place than to be alive and well in an alien land. Would that heaven be merciful and send him to either Shaanxi or Fujian! Other places would mean nothing to him.

As a matter of fact, when setting out to sea, the Japanese submitted themselves to the will of heaven and allowed themselves to be guided by the direction of the wind. If the wind was out of the north, that dictated an invasion of Guangdong; an easterly wind meant that Fujian was to be the target; a northeasterly wind would take them to Wenzhou, and, with a southeasterly wind, they would be heading for Huaiyang. It was the second month of the year when they set sail. A robust northeasterly wind that lasted for several days in a row blew them all the way to Wenzhou.

The Yuan dynasty had enjoyed peace for so long that coastal defense consisted of nothing more than a few ships with several hundred old, weak soldiers who were so poorly prepared for battle that they fled upon the first sight of the oncoming enemy. Unopposed, the pirates landed and, as usual, went on a burning and killing spree.

However reluctant he was, Yang Balao was obliged to follow. In the period from the second month to the eighth month, the government troops su ered a series of defeats and lost several cities and towns to the pirates, who then descended upon Ningbo, Shaoxing, and Yuhang, all along the way committing atrocities that defy description. Magistrates of various prefectures and counties submitted to the imperial court appeals for emergency assistance. An imperial decree to the Ministry of Defense ordered Grand Marshal Puhua of the Pingjiang region to lead troops forward to expel the invaders. A most wise and resourceful man, with quite a number of crack troops and fine officers under his command, the grand marshal led his well-armed army forward into the Zhejiang region. When his scouts learned that the Japanese were camped around Clear Water Dam, Grand Marshal Puhua arranged to have the local troops join him in pressing ahead by land as well as by water. The Japanese, having never taken Chinese government troops seriously, ignored their advance. Little did they know that Grand Marshal Puhua had under him ten commanders who all had the valor to combat ten thousand men single-handedly. Equipped with an abundance of cannons, part of the Chinese troops lay in ambush. When the Japanese were in the middle of a heated battle with the rest of the Chinese troops, those in ambush charged into the open under cover of the cannons. The path of retreat being thus blocked, the Japanese su ered a bitter defeat. Over a thousand heads were chopped o . More than two hundred men were captured alive. Of those who tried to flee by ship, many were intercepted and killed by the Chinese navy. Others fell into the water and drowned. The victorious grand marshal rewarded his troops. Then, a hunt for any surviving Japanese got under way. Truly,

Our story forks at this point. At Clear Water Dam there stood a temple known as the Temple of Smooth Sailing, which had been built in honor of a deity named Feng Jun, originally a native of Qiantang. At the age of sixteen, he had dreamt that a deity from heaven appeared to him and, acting upon a decree from the Jade Emperor, cut open his belly and changed all the vital organs in his body. Upon waking up, he still felt the pain in his belly. He was illiterate, for he missed the chance for education when he was small, but, after that dream, his mind suddenly saw the light. Henceforth, there was no book that he did not know. He excelled in writing and could predict the future. One day, he fell asleep at home. No one could wake him up, and when he finally did awake, he said, to his family’s disbelief, that he had been at a banquet in the palace of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, who forced too much wine on him. It was not until he vomited exotic seafood never seen before that his story came to be believed.

At the age of thirty-six, he declared suddenly one day, “The Jade Emperor appointed me as god of the rivers. I shall take up the post three days from now.” Three days later he passed away, a man free from any ailment. That day, furious waves in the river were on the verge of capsizing passing boats when a god emerged from among the clouds on a red-bannered, black-canopied carriage pulled by a white horse with red reins. At his command, the waves died down. Local natives, when asked, said that the god was the very image of Feng Jun. Thereupon, a temple named Smooth Sailing was erected on the site of his residence. During the Shaoding reign period [1228–33], he was granted the title Valiant Prince. The deity he had become was most responsive to prayers. When the Japanese were occupying Clear Water Dam, Yang Balao secretly o e red prayers in the temple, and, to his inward delight, his divination was granted a most auspicious answer. He and twelve other men captured by the Japanese years before got together and agreed to surrender when the Chinese troops arrived, yet they hesitated for fear that the soldiers might take them for Japanese and capture them to claim rewards.

On the twenty-eighth day of the eighth month, the Japanese pirates were put to rout. Yang Balao and the other twelve men hid themselves in the temple without daring to venture out. While they were thus stranded in the temple, they heard loud cries outside. It was Battalion Commandant Wang Guoxiong, who was leading government troops to search the temple. All thirteen men were taken alive. They were tied together and hung by their hands from the eaves. The men protested that they were being wronged and that they were not Japanese, but their cries went unheeded. As evening set in, Commandant Wang decided to spend the night in the temple and take the captives along the following morning to claim his reward from the authorities. As luck would have it, a servant of the commandant’s, Wang Xing, rose in the night to relieve himself and heard, amid the wails from the corridor, a voice with a Shaanxi accent. (A wonderful twist in the plot.) Intrigued, he quietly lit a lamp and went over for a look. The light happened to fall on Yang Balao’s face. Feeling a little apprehensive, Wang Xing said, “If you are not Japanese, where are you from, then? Why are you in their ranks, and why do you look the same as they do?”

Yang Balao explained, “Everyone here is from Fujian except me. I’m a native of Zhouzhi County in Xi’an Prefecture. Nineteen years ago, I was traveling in Zhangpu when I was captured by Japanese pirates. My hair was shaven o and my shoes taken away, and I was made to su er all manner of hardships. Everyone else here was captured at the same time. When we were brought here, we thought of giving ourselves up to the authorities, but, looking as strange as we do, we were afraid that no one would believe us unless we ran into some old acquaintances. We were trying to make up our minds when, luckily for us, the imperial army defeated the Japanese enemy, bringing us hope for deliverance from our misery. Who would have thought that the old general would hang all of us up like this without even a questioning. If we are brought before the commander in chief tomorrow, we’ll all be dead.” At these words, the captives all broke out into sobs. Wang Xing hastily shook his hand in admonition and said, “Don’t be so loud. You’ll only ruin your own chances if you wake up the old general. Now, you from Xi’an Prefecture, what is your name?”

“My surname is Yang. I am Yang Fu, nicknamed Balao. You, sir, also have a slight Shaanxi accent. Might you be from the same county, by any chance?”

Wang Xing was taken aback. “So you are my old master! Do you remember Suitong? It’s me!”

“Ah yes, of course!” exclaimed Yang Balao. “But you look di erent from the old days, and I really couldn’t have recognized you face to face. How did you end up here after we were separated in Fujian?”

“Let’s not get into details now,” said Wang Xing. “Tomorrow morning when the old general rises to take you o under escort, I’ll be standing on one side. You can look at me and call my name. I will then step forward and plead for you.” So saying, he picked up the lamp and went away. As the others asked Yang what all that was about, Yang gave a brief account, to the delight of one and all. Truly,

Wang Xing had been nineteen years old when he served Yang Balao as a page boy. Now, nineteen years later, he was a man of thirty-eight, changed beyond immediate recognition. After being separated from his master, he had hidden himself in the latrine and, by sheer luck, was not captured by the Japanese. Battalion Commandant Wang, a company commandant stationed there at the time, saw him by chance and, impressed with his smartness, asked him about his background and kept him as a servant. The commandant agreed to inquire about the whereabouts of Suitong’s master, but all his e orts were to no avail. Later, Company Commandant Wang was promoted to battalion commandant for his merit and transferred to a position in Zhejiang. Now renamed Wang Xing, Suitong rendered him competent service. Indeed, Yang the Eighth was destined not to perish at this time, nor was his career to be terminated yet. Extreme adversities now gave way to good fortune. It was the will of heaven that he be reunited with his former servant.

Let us digress no more. The following morning, Battalion Commandant Wang did a roll call, found everyone present, and ordered that the thirteen Japanese captives be delivered to the commander in chief so the battalion could claim its reward. At the point of departure, one of the captives stared at Wang Xing and cried at the top of his voice, “Suitong! I am your old master. Come and save me!” Wang Xing feigned surprised recognition and the two fell upon each other’s shoulders and wept.

Having no memory of what had happened so many years before, Commandant Wang asked Wang Xing what all this emotion was about. Wang Xing said in explanation, “This is my old master, whom I lost sight of nineteen years ago. I couldn’t find him. Little did I know that he was captured by the Japanese. I was looking at him and thinking how familiar his face was when he recognized me and called me by my old name. Should my benefactor look into my old master’s case and set him free, I would have no regrets even if I die right here at the foot of these very steps.” With these words, he burst into loud sobs. The rest of the captives all joined him in claiming their innocence and pronouncing their names, native places, and the facts of their lives.

Commandant Wang said, “Since this appears to be a case of mistaken identity, I would not presume to pass any judgment on my own. Let me send the captives over to the grand marshal, so he can decide.”

Wang Xing pleaded, “Please take me along so that I can testify as to the truth.” Commandant Wang refused at first, but finally gave in to Wang Xing’s pitiable pleas.

That very day, the thirteen captives plus Wang Xing were brought under guard to the mansion of Grand Marshal Puhua, who declared, “Being Japanese captives, they should be decapitated.” All the thirteen plus Wang Xing loudly protested, stating their innocence. Wang Guoxiong dropped to his knees and gave an account of what he had heard from Wang Xing. The grand marshal found the report credible and ordered Wang Guoxiong to escort the captives and Wang Xing to Yang Shidao, the assistant prefect of Shaoxing, for an interrogation.

In those times during the Yuan dynasty, an assistant prefect was the equivalent of a present-day vice-prefect, who, second in rank only to the prefect, worked with the prefect in the management of prefectural a airs. A most powerful position it was. That day, Assistant Prefect Yang presided over the court, and an orderly court it was. How do we know this? There is a poem in evidence:

By order of the grand marshal, Commandant Wang himself brought the thirteen Japanese captives to Assistant Prefect Yang’s yamen. After the usual exchange of greetings, Commandant Wang explained the purpose of his visit. The assistant prefect then saw the commandant out before returning to his own seat in the hall. Wang Xing was the first to give an account of the case, followed by wails of grief from the captives. Assistant Prefect Yang took down Wang Xing’s testimony and summoned Yang Balao for questioning. Yang Balao duly supplied detailed information about his name and native place.

“Since you are from Zhouzhi County,” asked the assistant prefect, “what is your wife’s family name? Do you have children?”

Yang Balao replied, “My wife is from the Li family of the East Village.We have only one son, named Shidao, who was seven years old when I went to Zhangpu on a business trip. I lived in Zhangpu for three years, after which I was captured by the Japanese and taken to Japan, where I lived for nineteen years. Since I left home, I never heard from my family, nor do I know if my wife and son are dead or alive. If my son is alive, he would be twenty-nine years old now. If you don’t believe me, you can send an order to Zhouzhi County for the local authorities to verify the names of all my kith and kin, however far removed. Then my innocence will be established.”

The assistant prefect turned to Wang Xing and got the same answer. The rest of the captives again called out their grievances. The assistant prefect carefully questioned each of them and found that all were civilians from Fujian captured at the same time as Yang Balao. The assistant prefect reflected a long while before he ordered sharply, “Put them in prison for now. They are not to be released until they are cleared by a background check by the local authorities.”

After leaving the court, he returned to his private quarters and told his mother that he had encountered the strangest thing. The old lady asked, “What kind of a case was it that you handled today, my son? What is so strange about it?”

“A Commandant Wang brought to me thirteen Japanese captives who turned out to be Chinese who had been captured by the Japanese. One of them, called Yang Fu, is a native of Zhouzhi County in Shaanxi. He said that twenty-one years ago, he took leave of his wife, Li-shi, and went to ply his trade in Zhangpu. Three years later, during one of the Japanese incursions, he was captured and taken to Japan. When he left home, his son was seven years old and should be twenty-nine by now. You often said, Mother, that when I was seven, my father went to Zhangzhou on a business trip and never came back. That man’s name is identical with my father’s; so is his wife’s name with yours, and I happen to be twenty-nine years old. I don’t believe such coincidences are possible. What’s more, Commandant Wang has a servant, Wang Xing, who is positive that the captive is his former master. Wang Xing says he used to be called Suitong and that he lost sight of his master at Zhangpu amid the onslaught of the pirates. Isn’t it strange that Suitong also happens to be the name of my father’s former servant?”

The old lady also exclaimed, “A most strange thing indeed! Granted that coincidences do occur, but certainly not to this extent! There must be something to it. Hold another interrogation session tomorrow. I’ll listen from behind the screen. The truth can be determined then.”

Thus advised, Yang Shidao summoned the thirteen captives again the following day for another interrogation and found no deviation from the story given the day before. The old lady cried out from behind the screen, “Yang Shidao, my son! There is no need to go on. This man from Zhouzhi County is none other than your father! Wang Xing is indeed Suitong.”

Yang Shidao the assistant prefect was so startled that he lost his balance and fell down from his seat. Throwing his arms around Yang Balao, he broke out into loud sobs. He then invited his father, followed by Wang Xing, into the back room. There, the family of three fell upon each other’s shoulders and shed bitter tears. It was indeed like a dream. Suitong also broke down in passionate weeping. They cried their fill before the son made his bows to the father following proper etiquette. Suitong also kowtowed to pay his respects to his former master and mistress. Yang Balao said to his son, “In Japan, I prayed to heaven every night that I be allowed to return to my native land and to see my wife and son again. Now my wish is granted with the blessings of heaven. It is my great joy to see my son in such a high position. But those twelve other men are all natives of Fujian who were captured at the same time and, like me, were forced into doing what we did. Please set them free as soon as possible. Do not show any partiality to me, for that will arouse resentment.”

Thus admonished, Yang Shidao set the other twelve men free and, to their immense gratitude, gave each of them three taels of silver to pay for travel expenses on their way home. While instructing the clerk to write a report to the grand marshal, he also started preparations for a celebration banquet. Yang Balao bathed in perfumed water and changed into a new outfit complete with a cap and a waistband. Yang Shidao’s wife, Zhang-shi, also came out to pay her respects to her father-in-law. It was indeed a scene of family reunion filled with boundless joy.

The story spread to the Shaoxing prefectural yamen. At word that Assistant Prefect Yang had found his father, Prefect Nie prepared some wine and lamb, betook himself to Assistant Prefect Yang’s yamen to o er him congratulations, and asked with much insistence to see Mr. Yang Senior. Yang Fu was obliged to come out and exchange greetings with Mr. Nie. After the usual amenities, the hosts and the guest took their seats respectively. Prefect Nie was most profuse in his admiration and praise. Assistant Prefect Yang set out wine and kept the prefect for dinner, in the course of which the prefect asked why Mr. Yang had stayed in Fujian for so long before calamity struck.

Yang Balao answered, “I had originally intended to return home within a year’s time, but the Nie family, with whom I stayed, wished to have me as a husband for their twenty-three-year-old widowed daughter so that I could be of help to the family. Thus I married into the Nie family and stayed for three years.”

“Did you have children in those three years?” asked Mr. Nie.

“It was because Nie-shi got pregnant and gave birth to a son that I could not tear myself away. Otherwise, I would have left much earlier.”

Mr. Nie asked further, “Did you name the child?”

Without an inkling as to the prefect’s name, Yang Senior replied readily, “As I had named my older son, now the vice-prefect, Shidao, the one I had by Nie-shi was named Nie Shide, for they are brothers, though with di erent surnames. Nie-shi’s son should be twenty-two years old this year, though I have no idea what has become of the mother and son.” So saying, he broke down in tears. Neither did Prefect Nie show much delight. After a few more cups, he took his leave and returned home, where he related to his mother what had happened. “The woman he married in Zhangpu bore your surname, mother, and there is no discrepancy in the dates. Might not he be my father?”

The old lady said, “Why don’t you invite him to a banquet tomorrow? I’ll watch him from behind the screen. We’ll then know the truth.”

The following day, Yang came to return the prefect’s call and presented his name card. The prefect set out wine and kept him for a feast. What Lady Nie saw from behind the screen was a neatly dressed Yang Balao, easily recognizable because he no longer looked like a Japanese. Before she had heard much, the old lady called out, “Nie Shide, my son! Invite your father into the inner quarters for a proper greeting!” Yang Balao was taken aback, for little did he expect things to take such a turn. The prefect hastily dropped to his knees and said, “Your son failed to recognize you. Please forgive me for such a lack of filial piety.” Thereupon Yang Balao was led into the private quarters, where he was greeted by Lady Nie. They fell upon each other’s shoulders and wept bitterly. It was indeed a repetition of the scene in Assistant Prefect Yang’s residence.

In the midst of the conversation, Suitong came by Assistant Prefect Yang’s order to the prefect’s yamen to escort Mr. Yang Senior back. Astonished upon learning that Mr. Yang was also the prefect’s father, Suitong hurried, uninvited, into the inner quarters and kowtowed to the old lady, who realized, after questioning, that this was Suitong, whereupon Suitong gave an account of how he had met Commandant Wang after his separation from his master. The whole family rejoiced. Prefect Nie’s wife, Jiang-shi, also came to pay her respects to her father-in-law. The prefect ordered that a banquet be prepared, to which Assistant Prefect Yang was also invited so that he could be given a full explanation. The prefect and assistant prefect did not know until then that they were, in fact, brothers born of the same father. That day, the assistant prefect’s wife, Zhang-shi, was also invited over for the family reunion banquet, to the immense joy of all. (After years of life as a captive in a foreign land, Mr. Yang suddenly finds himself reunited with two wives and two highly-placed sons, with whose support he is to live in grand style. From the jaws of death to the ninth level of heaven, from separation to reunion, from estrangement to a ection, from lowliness to dignity: isn’t all this dictated by destiny?) Indeed,

Yang Balao had su ered hardships for nineteen years in Japan, little knowing that Yang Shidao, the son of his first wife, Li-shi, and Nie Shide, the son of his second wife, Nie-shi, had grown up, passed the civil service examinations in the same year, and assumed office in the same county of Shaoxing. It was the will of heaven that brought together Balao, who had survived the shackles, his two wives, and his two worthy sons—an extraordinary reunion rarely witnessed in all of history. By the third day, as the news spread throughout the yamen, the entire assembly of officials came to o er congratulations, and so did Commandant Wang. He did not protest Wang Xing’s return to his old master. Wang Xing’s wife being with the Wang household, the commandant, as a gesture to please the prefect and the assistant prefect, sent for her with all speed so that she could join the reunion. Prefect Nie and Assistant Prefect Yang jointly wrote a memorial addressed to Grand Marshal Puhua, in which they gave a full account of the events that had led to their reunion with their father. The grand marshal in turn reported the matter to the imperial court, which duly bestowed royal titles and gifts on the entire family. Nie Shide changed his surname to Yang, becoming Yang Shide. Yang Balao enjoyed prosperity until he died at a ripe old age. This story illustrates the adage that life and death are all a matter of fate; wealth and rank are determined by the will of heaven. All rises and falls in human life are preordained by destiny, and all attempts to seek the impossible are futile. There is a poem that bears witness: