Persistence of Chrysanthemums (Re-edit)
11/29/2024 Friday 31-47F Cloudy
I wrote this story in 2021. Now after three years, I made some modifications as well as added more information at the end of the story. This new version is posted in my business blog too (Link: https://www.lotusandmichael.com/blogs/news/persistence-of-chrysanthemums). I hope you enjoy it 😅
Tao sits by the fence in front of his house.
It is early afternoon, sunny and warm. The distant mountains are all covered by Autumn trees of different colors: The red must be maple trees; the yellow should be poplars; and the dark green ones are either pine trees or bamboo. Some wild geese fly across the sky from north to south, along with their long, extensive cries.
“Winter is on its way.” Tao gazes at the geese until they disappear at the end of the misty, turquoise-colored horizon. He wishes he could be one of them, flying somewhere unknown, but surely warm, happy, and worry-free.
Tao sighs. He tucks his legs, laces his knees with his hands. He thinks of his wife, who went to her parents three days ago with their two children. Since they left, the house suddenly has become empty and too large for a single man. He didn’t ask her when they would come back; he knew she was angry with him. “Yes, everything is my fault,” Tao thinks. They have been married for more than fifteen years, but he always fails to give her a comfortable, stable life: For the first few years, he worked in several places then was transferred to a governmental facility. With a lot of ambitions for his career, he didn’t pay much attention to the family; afterward, their first son died and they spent some years coming through that grave sorrow. Later on, they had their second son and a daughter. But he started to hate his job.
Maybe it shouldn’t be called “hate”; he just couldn’t get along with it well. It was a small office, had too little work to do but too many chefs in the kitchen. And the worst thing was, gradually it was dominated by complacent and jealous people. Tao had a few hard-working colleagues whom he liked and could see some hope from, but soon they all left—they told Tao that they couldn’t endure the office politics; they considered it a waste of time for them to continue working there. Tao fully understood and agreed. Taking himself as an example: In the past couple of years, he had suggested a lot of plans to his boss about how to reduce expenses, how to gain more earnings, how to restructure the team and build a healthier environment. His boss just listened, nodded, smiling, then put his suggestions aside without a word of feedback to him.
Tao was frustrated. As time passed and with all the frustrations, he turned from a full-blooded ambitious young man into a droopy, easy-going, middle-aged clerk--he had aged much more mentally than physically.
In that situation, Tao still didn’t leave. He couldn’t afford to leave. He just had his first baby girl at that time, and his father was ill. Everything and everywhere needed money. If he quit, how would he feed his family and send doctors to his father? He struggled to continue. He persuaded himself that he should stay as long as he could get paid.
Soon, his boss was replaced by a new one, a worse one, who commanded everybody in the office to follow his instructions absolutely and unconditionally, no matter whether those instructions made sense or not. People who were good at flattering were promoted; people who kept neutral like Tao were punished--his wage was reduced; even after the death of his father, he still had to exhaust himself to cover his family’s daily expenses. Perhaps too hard-earned money wasn't suitable for his soul.
After another two years’ self-doubts and reassurance, finally, Tao quit.
He didn’t hunt for other jobs. He was disappointed about working, and himself. None of his previous work experiences could make him feel that he was appreciated—they were all very similar, led him nowhere. The only difference among them was which one was worse, or the worst. "Alas, I guess I am not a likable career man!" He thought.
Then how about being a farmer? He still owned a small piece of land in the countryside which was inherited from his grandfather. He should take advantage of it instead of leaving it to the weeds, though all his life he had never cultivated an inch of farmland. The living cost there should be much cheaper; he could use his farm produce to trade for all the necessities. What's more, he always had a dream of country life: Nature, animals, plants; he would rather make friends with them than the city folks around him. If it was something had to happen to fulfill his life, why not make it happen now?
Three years have passed since they moved into this cottage; Tao never ever regrets his decision. But not his wife. Every day she complains: The rice in the urn runs out too fast; Tao drinks too much wine; Tao should spend more time farming rather than writing since there are five mouths to feed but only two male laborers—Tao and one hired hand; winter is coming and the kids’ old padded clothes don’t fit anymore so they need new ones…There are too many things to worry about for a wife and mother, especially a poor one.
He notices that these years his wife looks more aged. Her black thick long hair which she used to be proud of now gets thinner and grayer on the temples. Wrinkles have secretly crawled onto her face, where no radiance glows. He feels that he has failed her.
This year their harvest isn’t good, so ends early. Too many rains in the summer affected their beans—a lot of them are shriveled. The coming winter will be tough: The family lacks not only children’s clothes, but also their food source. All the stresses made his wife repeatedly blame him for quitting his post; no matter how terrible it was, at least he could get paid on time, therefore at least they could feed their empty stomachs with something. People like them shouldn’t make decisions; their stomachs would decide for them.
Life turned worse year by year; she couldn’t think about the future—everything looked just so dull and hopeless. Then she cried. The kids saw her cry; they all followed and cried too. He couldn’t stop them. With a bleeding heart, he walked out. What a failure!
An oxcart approaches the front path of Tao’s house. A man in white sitting next to the driver on the rack cries excitedly at him: “Tao! See how beautiful your chrysanthemums are! I have something urgent to do right now. Wait for me at home! I shall return in an hour or so!”
It is Lee, the assistant to a wealthy neighboring farm owner with a great reputation. They met a couple of times before, but Tao has never seen his master. As a response, Tao waves at Lee. The cart rattles away.
“Oh, yeah, my chrysanthemums.” He turns his head, draws a large flowerhead close to his nose and inhales deeply. Yes, probably he is a terrible farmer since his crops have never been good; but his chrysanthemums, and only chrysanthemums, always thrive exceptionally: They clump along the fences, some stand more than five feet high, holding up their flowerheads gracefully in various colors and forms. Thousands of blossoms and buds are bathing in the sun, exhaling their endearing fragrance. “Perhaps I can dig out some chrysanthemums and try to sell them in the market tomorrow morning.” Tao thinks, “Why not? I have so many. And I shall pick some flowers for Lee. He seems to like them a lot.”
When he sits down again on the stone step with a big bundle of flowers by his side, he feels much more. Yes, that’s part of the reason he doesn’t regret his decision. He loves chrysanthemums. He loves to see his flowers bordering the house at the end of the season and when frosts fall.
Shouldn’t life just be that simple so people can do the things they dream about? He had planned too much for his life since he was young, but none of his plans worked as expected: He started to read when he was five; he wrote his first article when he was seven. His father and teachers all thought that he was very talented and one day would be the pride of the family. It is true that people love reading his articles especially his country poems; people consider him respectful and intelligent. But being practical, his intelligence at least so far hasn’t helped him a bit to solve his financial issues.
Alas, he sighs again. However, are things really that bad? Yes, he doesn’t have a better solution yet other than selling some plants; but there are always ways to figure things out, who knows, today or tomorrow, unexpectedly and magically—as long as you don’t surrender.
He touches his flower bundle gently, as if he is touching a sleeping infant. Now only these chrysanthemums worship him, devoted and diligent, with an unchanging heart. The last drop of his wine in the jug was finished nine days ago; in the past he often believed that alcohol could bring him inspiration and passion, but earlier in the day, without its companionship and haunted by a sense of disappointment, he just finished an article "The Peach Colony”, which depicts his idealism, his once faded but recently rejuvenated dream, and his wonderland where he can rest his ragged soul. The tougher the reality is, the purer his pursuit becomes.
He hears the oxcart rattling down the path again. Then it slowly appears, climbing up to the hilltop and stops at his front fence door. As joyful as usual, Lee jumps off the cart. “How are you doing these days?” He pats Tao’s shoulder, “I haven’t seen you for quite a while.”
Tao smiles. He likes Lee, likes this young man’s casual manners and light heart. Why not? Why should we make our life so heavy? He offers Lee his chrysanthemum bundle: “A gift for you”.
Lee is overjoyed. “Thank you.” He takes the flowers in his arm, “I have something for you too. A Niu!” He raises his voice to the oxcart driver: “Bring that big urn of wine into Mr. Tao’s house, as well as that fat duck and three legs of lamb!”
Tao looks confused: “I didn’t order these things. Are you sure they are for me?”
Lee grins; the two lines of his white teeth shine in the sloping sun. “Yes, I am sure. The wine and lamb are from my master. He is too busy to come here in person during the harvest season. And he wants to ask you a favor: He has three boys between the ages of twelve and sixteen. Last month their tutor, who had taught them for seven years, was ill and decided to retire. My master has read many poems of yours; he adores you very much. Therefore, he bids me to send his greeting to you, invites you and your family to spend this winter at his farm. If you like it there, you can start your teaching next spring at your convenience.”
Lee pauses, starting to search his pocket. “Here is a small token of appreciation offered by my master,” he forces a fat red envelop into Tao's hands, “You must take it, regardless of whether you will accept his invitation or not. But trust me, he is the best and the most generous employer I have ever seen in my life."
“Beautiful!” Lee steps into the fence door, then turns around winks at Tao: “Would you mind having dinner with me today in your yard? I bring you a fat duck. I admire your chrysanthemums—every time I pass by, I wonder how wonderful it is just sitting in this place watching these gorgeous flowers!”
Everything has worked out unexpectedly and magically. But what Tao doesn’t know is: The article he wrote that morning later on was enlisted as one of the most famous articles in Chinese literary history. Even now, sixteen hundred years later, it still encourages people to pursue the beauty in their lives, and to have faith in their souls.
And chrysanthemum also becomes the symbol of Tao’s spirit.
(Above is a fictionalized account of the below-real- 1600 year-old article)
The Peach Colony (translated by Lin Yutang æž—è¯å ‚)
During the reign of Taiyuan of Chin, there was a fisherman of Wuling. One day he was walking along a bank. After having gone a certain distance, he suddenly came upon a peach grove which extended along the bank for about a hundred yards. He noticed with surprise that the grove had a magic effect, so singularly free from the usual mingling of brushwood, while the beautifully grassy ground was covered with its rose petals.
He went further to explore, and when he came to the end of the grove, he saw a spring which came from a cave in the hill. Having noticed that there seemed to be a weak light in the cave, he tied up his boat and decided to go in and explore. At first the opening was very narrow, barely wide enough for one person to go in. After a dozen steps, it opened into a flood of light. He saw before his eyes a wide, level valley, with houses and fields and farms. There were bamboos and mulberries; farmers were working and dogs and chickens were running about. The dresses of the men and women were like those of the outside world, and the old men and children appeared very happy and contented.
They were greatly astonished to see the fisherman and asked him where he had come from. The fisherman told them and was invited to their homes, where wine was served, and chicken was killed for dinner to entertain him. The villagers hearing of his coming all came to see him and to talk. They said that their ancestors had come here as refugees to escape from the tyranny of Tsin Shih-huang (builder of Great Wall) some six hundred years ago, and they had never left it. They were thus completely cut off from the world and asked what was the ruling dynasty now. They had not even heard of the Han Dynasty (two centuries before to two centuries after Christ), not to speak of the Wei (third century A.D.) and the Chin (third and fourth centuries). The fisherman told them, which they heard with great amazement. Many of the other villagers then began to invite him to their homes by turn and feed him dinner and wine. After a few days, he took leave of them and left. The villagers begged him not to tell the people outside about their colony.
The man found his boat and came back, marking with signs the route he had followed. He went to the magistrate’s office and told the magistrate about it. The latter sent someone to go with him and find the place. They looked for the signs but got lost and could never find it again.
Liu Tsechi of Nanyang was a great idealist. He heard of this story, and planned to go and find it, but was taken ill and died before he could fulfill his wish. Since then, no one has gone in search of this place.
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