By: Cariou

Wen Yan was born in the 22nd year of the Daoguang era of the ancient China Qing dynasty (1842) in Jixi County, Anhui Province. He grew up in a poor family, and his parents passed away when he was young. He was raised by his older brother, Wen Ting. Yan was sensible from an early age and helped his brother with farm work. Since Ting couldn’t afford schooling for his little brother, Yan only attended a private school for a year, learning just a few characters before giving up his studies. When Ting married and started his own family, he couldn’t look after Yan. Around this time, Ting heard that a money exchange shop in Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province, was looking for an apprentice, so he recommended Yan. Yan was seventeen and ventured far from home for the first time that year.

Yan was proactive instead of reactive at work and thus he soon gained the respect of the exchange shop owner, Mr. Zhang. Yan was a skilled speaker, capable of adapting his words to suit any audience, a quality the Chinese proverb captures as “speak to a person like a person, speak to a ghost-like a ghost.” Under Yan’s efforts, even debts that seemed impossible to collect were eventually returned.

Mr. Zhang’s wife passed away early, and they had no sons, leaving him with only one daughter, Lan. Lan was one year younger than Yan, and over time, as Yan frequently went in and out of Mr. Zhang’s residence to report on his work, the two became good friends. Mr. Zhang had always been physically weak, and to manage the business well, working around the clock had taken a toll on his health. Then, he was unfortunate to have contracted the plague that had spread in the South and felt his days were numbered. Realizing this, Mr. Zhang saw Yan’s potential and summoned him and Lan to his bedside, entrusting them with his final wishes. In the Analects, Zengzi once said, “knowing that words spoken near death are sincere.” Yan listened intently and, at that moment, pledged himself as Zhang’s adopted son. Mr. Zhang entrusted the entire exchange shop to Yan and also placed his daughter Lan in his care. Finally, he left him with a last piece of advice: “Don’t become like Shi Chong of the Jin dynasty.” With those words, he passed away.

Yan and Lan’s wedding was a modest affair, with only a simple meal among relatives and friends to observe a period of mourning for Mr. Zhang. In this way, Yan earned the first significant fortune of his life when he was twenty-three years old.

Seventeen years later, in the 8th year of the Guangxu era (1882).

In a small village in Jiaxing, Zhejiang, silk farmers were lined up to hand over their raw silk to the overseer. Their faces bore signs of exhaustion and hardship, and from their deep wrinkles and dark yellowed skin, others could see the severity of their lives. A middle-aged man dressed in a navy blue robe walked among the farmers, inspecting the quality of the mulberry silk. Suddenly, he stopped before one of them, reaching into the farmer’s bamboo basket. The mulberry silk he held was slightly yellowed, lacking the resilience of fresh silk, and snapped quickly—a clear sign it was from the previous year. The man turned to the overseer, who was recording the amount of mulberry silk submitted by each farmer with a writing brush on rough paper, and said, “This farmer’s silk is unacceptable, but I’ll take the rest.”

The overseer nodded and continued recording. Hearing that his silk would not be accepted, the elderly farmer, already hunched, bent even lower and pleaded, “Sir, please accept my silk. My elderly mother is sick, and I need money to buy medicine for her.”

The middle-aged man shook his head and refused. “I’m sorry, but this is clearly last year’s silk and my master has strict standards.” Then, the farmer bowed even lower and continued pleading, “Sir, please, I beg you. Could you make an exception? My mother’s health is deteriorating, and I desperately need money for her medicine.”

The man hesitated momentarily, then reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small pouch filled with silver coins, which he handed to the farmer. “Please take this to help with your mother’s treatment. But I still cannot accept your silk.”

The farmer’s eyes filled with tears, and he was unable to speak, overcome with gratitude as he looked down at the pouch, which bore the embroidered character “Wang Ke.” Seeing this act of kindness, the others nodded and murmured quietly, “The great tycoon of Hangzhou and chivalrous hero of the Southeast really has a well-deserved reputation and even his subordinate has good moral character.”

In a finely constructed Suzhou-style garden, where intricately carved buildings and beautiful rocks rose from a blue-green lake, Wen Yan played Go with Zhao Xun, the Viceroy of Liangjiang and a court minister. Xun held the white stones and was slightly disadvantaged, furrowing his brow in concentration. On the other hand, Yan was calm, sipping tea from the stone table. Yan was no longer the young man who tirelessly managed the exchange shop. He now wore the wrinkles of age, though his eyes still shone with a warmth and compassion reminiscent of the Buddha.

“Minister Zhao, I want to do something great.”

Xun chuckled. “Something great? With me, everything you’ve accomplished has been great. When the frontier was threatened, you used your assets as collateral to borrow millions taels of silver from foreign banks. My victories on the battlefield owe a part to your help. When plagues ravaged the South, you distributed medicine and congee for free to citizens. And now, what else do you intend to do?”

Yan smiled as he placed a black stone, shifting the board from black’s advantage to a favorable position for white. “I am merely a merchant. How could I contribute to Minister Zhao’s victories? Your triumphs are due to your wisdom and martial prowess. As for distributing medicine and porridge, that is my duty. Though I lost my parents at a young age, I understand that those who are wealthy must also be benevolent. This time, I plan to confront the foreign merchants head-on.”

Xun was pleased to see Yan make a misstep and was confident he could surround the black stones. However, Yan’s words caused him to briefly frown.

“Yan, I am merely a soldier and know little of the business world, but I have always supported what you do. Yet, let me warn you: don’t make yourself a target for foreigners.”

Yan paused and asked with curiosity, “Minister Zhao, what do you mean?”

Xun placed a white stone on the board and looked at Yan’s eyes. “Yan, my influence in court is waning, and I can’t speak too much. We’ve known each other for over ten years, and I’ve watched you rise to where you are today. I don’t want to see you come to harm. As your old friend, I urge you not to take unnecessary risks.”

Yan placed stones randomly on the board, seemingly indifferent to Xun’s words. “I just can’t stand foreigners bullying us. I want to defend the dignity of Chinese merchants.” Xun looked at the board, seeing that black could not turn the situation around, and sighed.

“That Buddha-like heart of yours will be your undoing someday.”

At the residence of the Minister of Zhili, a man wearing a dark blue official robe entered the main hall in a hurry. Seeing an elderly man with a white beard dressed in a pale yellow short vest, he slightly bowed.

“Minister Li, I have an important report.”

Recognizing the man was Dong Liang, Li Jia immediately dismissed the attendants nearby and led Liang to an inner room. Then, Jia sat in the principal seat while Liang stood beside him and handed over a stack of telegrams.

“Minister Li, these are the telegrams we intercepted over the past few days that Wen Yan sent to various merchants. He instructed them not to sell silk to foreigners, to wait until the prices rose, and then to sell collectively. He’s also stockpiling raw silk, likely aiming to monopolize Zhejiang’s silk. Should I meet with these merchants personally and advise them not to listen to him?”

Jia stroked his long beard, deep in thought. “No rush, Liang. I have a better idea, but there is a better time. Wen Yan standing up to foreigners—he really is Zhao Xun’s fine disciple.” Liang smiled and bowed respectfully. “Zhao Xun is no match for you, Minister Li. Someday, he’ll meet his downfall before your strength. Winning battles alone won’t help him in the court.”

Jia laughed contentedly but cautioned Liang, “You mustn’t speak so lightly of Minister Zhao. He is, after all, an important court minister. But Yan—he can be disregarded. Born poor family and self-made… Liang, wouldn’t it suit you well to take up the role of the great merchant of Hangzhou and hero of the southeast?”

Liang’s eyes gleamed as he bowed deeply with a smile. “I am just a humble merchant. Only through your kindness, Minister, I could don the official robe. I dare not wish for anything more.” Jia stood up from his intricately carved redwood chair, giving Liang a pat on the shoulder.

After Liang left, Jia clenched the telegrams tightly, leaving marks on the papers. He thought, “Zhao Xun, once I cut off your right and left hands, Wen Yan, you’ll have no chance to challenge me in the court.”

Yan and Lan played Go in the lakeside pavilion to pass the time. As dusk settled, the lake was adorned with lotus lanterns that highlighted the classical Chinese beauty of the traditional Jiangnan garden. Suddenly, Wang Ke arrived to report that a foreign merchant was requesting an audience with Yan. Yan shook his head, refusing to meet. Ke bowed his head and turned to leave. Lan, seeing this, guessed that the foreign merchant must have come to buy silk but, finding no seller, had no choice but to approach Yan directly. She stopped Ke, calling for him to wait.

“Yan, the guest is here; why not meet him?”

Yan, noticing Lan wouldn’t let Ke turn away the merchant, placed a white stone on the board. With that move, the black stones were all cut off, with no chance of survival.

“Lan, you’ve lost again.”

Annoyed by his evasive answer, Lan replied, “Oh, you play well enough here, but in front of Minister Zhao, you never win a game, do you?” Yan chuckled at her remark and looked over at Ke. “How goes the silk buying?” Standing respectfully with hands at his side, Ke replied, “Master Wen, as per your instructions.” Yan nodded slightly and smiled at Ke. “Thank you. You may go.”

Ke glanced at Lan, but she looked away. After bowing, he left. Once he was gone, Lan glared at Yan. “What kind of scheme are you cooking up now?” He refilled her empty teacup. “My schemes are something you, my dear wife, already know well.”

As she tidied up the chessboard, placing the pieces back into the container, she said, “I’m only worried about you. Do you remember my father’s last words to you?” His body stiffened, and he sat up straight, his gaze resolute as he looked down at the chessboard. “How could I forget your honored father’s teachings?”

She tapped his head lightly with her folding fan. “It seems you’ve forgotten since you became the hero of the southeast.”

He laughed, rising to help her out of the pavilion. “I’m not a boy anymore. There’s no need for you to fuss over me so much. You’re also getting on in years, so take care of yourself and don’t get so worked up. You understand me well. I feel deeply sorry for those silk farmers. I once raised silkworms in the countryside, so I know how hard they work. With all their efforts, they deserve a fair price. I just fight for them.”

Lan did not know whether to cry or laugh, and she could not argue back. She let Yan support her with his hand back to their room.

The round full moon floating in the sky was reflected on the lake, and as a gentle breeze passed, faint ripples spread across the water. The garden was silent, with only the chirping of crickets perched on the branches of camphor trees breaking the stillness. The rooms of Yan and Lan were a blend of traditional Chinese architecture and Western elements, and even at night, viewed from outside, the pristine moonlight and the crystal chandeliers illuminated the multicolored stained-glass windows, casting a beautiful glow. The outer gate, made of precious redwood, was adorned with delicate peony carvings at its corners, appearing as vivid and fresh as real flowers in bloom.

Along the stone walls lining the garden’s pathways were intricate carvings depicting the traditional motifs of fortune, prosperity, and longevity cherished by the Chinese, along with scenes from old proverbs and idioms. These carvings were exquisite, epitomizing admiration for the “Suzhou gardens, a new view with every step” and their intricate beauty. The darkness of night could not conceal this mansion, which was rich in the cultural and historical essence of ancient China. It was as if, much like during the Qin Dynasty when Emperor Qin Shi Huang burned books and persecuted scholars, the spirit of Confucianism continued to live on, unextinguished in the Chinese people’s veins, carrying forward for over two thousand years despite any loss.

Yan had acquired most of the raw silk in Zhejiang, leaving foreign merchants unable to purchase silk and nearly winning his business battle against them. However, in the ninth year of the Guangxu Emperor’s reign, the Sino-French War broke out, Europe had an unexpected surplus of silk, and a financial crisis ensued in China. Jia instructed Liang to negotiate with significant silk merchants to persuade them to quickly sell their silk to foreign buyers. The price of silk continued to fall daily, and since raw silk must be turned by specialists daily to keep it fresh, it would eventually rot and become unsellable. Yan had no choice but to sell off 15,000 packs of raw silk at a loss, incurring a deficit of 10 million taels of silver. As a result, half of Yan’s assets were gone. Jia then instructed Liang to spread rumors that Yan had gone bankrupt, causing panic among the people who had deposited their money in Yan’s exchange shop.

People lined up outside Yan’s exchange shop in Hangzhou to withdraw their savings. A young woman observed this scene, confused about why many people were lining up, and asked an elderly woman standing in line, “Madam, why are you lining up in front of the exchange shop?” The elderly woman, clutching her deposit slip and dressed in coarse clothing, looked at her with surprise. “Haven’t you heard? Wen Yan has gone bankrupt! We must get our silver out of his exchange shop as quickly as possible, or it’ll be too late!” The woman nodded. After a moment of thought, she said, “But if everyone rushes to withdraw their silver, won’t Master Wen’s business collapse even faster?” The elderly woman gave her a disdainful look, “You’re quite the saint, thinking of others, but who’s going to think of you? I’d advise you to hurry home, get your deposit slip, and withdraw your silver.”

The young woman shook her head resolutely and sneered slightly. “Poor Master Wen, when the plague hit, he distributed free medicine and congee to civilians. Without him, my entire family of six would have died. It seems all of you have forgotten that.”

At that moment, a storyteller passed by, recounting the scene in A Dream of Red Mansions where Baoyu becomes a monk. He left the words, “The vast white earth without anything is truly pure,” and then disappeared into the crowd.

Inside Yan’s residence, he was urging Lan to go to Jixi County in to visit his parents’ graves. “Please take our son, Lu, with you. I’ve already spoken to my brother, Ting, so you can stay at his home for a few days and burn incense for my parents. I’m tied up with too many things and can’t go myself.” Lan’s eyes were red, and no matter how much he tried to persuade her, she shook her head without saying a word. Then, their son Wen Lu came in. Yan’s expression softened when he saw Lu and immediately called him over. “Lu, would you go with your mother to another province to visit your grandparents’ graves?” Lu nodded obediently. “Yes, father. Can you tell me another story, father? My classmates at school always say that my stories are interesting, and I tell them they’re from you.” Yan glanced at Lan and patted Lu on the shoulder. “No problem, let me tell you a story about your mother’s father. Before he passed away, he left me with some words.” Lan’s body trembled, and she looked at Yan, who smiled at her warmly, his eyes filled with tenderness and guilt.

Suddenly, Wang Ke came running into the room, breathing heavily from his haste. Lan, noticing the scene, sensed that Ke had urgent news for Yan and took Lu out of the room.

“It’s terrible, sir. People are all coming to withdraw their silver, and the exchange shop’s reserves have already run out. They’re starting to cause a commotion in front of the exchange shop.” Yan heard this and immediately walked out of the room, telling Ke as he went, “I’m going to see what’s happening. Inform the servants not to let Madam go into the street.” Ke nodded, bowing repeatedly and replying, “Yes, Master.” But he quickly added, “However, Master, you shouldn’t go there. Those people are all targeting yo…” Yan cut him off, his tone firm. “I must go.” Seeing Yan’s resolute expression, Ke dared not stop him any further.

The crowd causing a disturbance in front of the exchange shop suddenly quieted when Yan appeared. He bowed deeply, “I am Wen Yan. I am here to apologize to you. Please don’t worry; even if I have to sell everything I own, I will ensure you can withdraw the silver you have saved. However, today, the exchange shop genuinely has no silver on hand. Please come back tomorrow.” Upon hearing this, the crowd gradually dispersed.

Yan then turned to Ke, “Sell off all the property I own that can be sold and convert it into silver for the people.” Ke hesitated, “But…” Yan smiled, “It’s all right. Once everything is taken care of, you should also take your silver and leave here. The court will soon hold me accountable, and I will stay here alone.” Ke immediately knelt, “I am committed to following you, Master Wen. You can ask Minister Zhao for help. He will surely assist you.” Yan helped Ke to his feet, “Go, Ke. I understand your loyalty. But Minister Zhao has his own difficulties. He opposes Minister Li, and we should not burden him.” Tears welled up in Ke’s eyes, and after bowing three times to Yan, he left.

Late at night, Yan sat idly in the empty room. Lan and Lu had already left, and Yan had instructed the carriage drivers to take them to a residence in Xinzhou Town. He may never see them again in this life. Since bankruptcy was considered a crime for merchants under the Qing dynasty, the court officials would soon come to confiscate Yan’s assets. As Yan nodded off in his chair, his thoughts drifted to the words of his old mentor, Mr. Zhang.

That day, he and Lan had knelt at Mr. Zhang’s sickbed, listening to his guidance. Mr. Zhang, breathing weakly and struggling to speak between breaths, still had a gleam of wisdom in his eyes. “Yan, you are a hundred times more capable than I am. I trust you completely to take over the bank. But remember…” Yan, eyes brimming with tears, knelt closer to listen. “You will become someone of great importance in the future, but never be like Shi Chong of the Jin Dynasty. Once you have power, do not believe you can accomplish everything. Man is, after all, only a man, not a Buddha. If your achievements overshadow those of the emperor, in the end, you will be killed.” Mr. Zhang’s gaze shifted to Lan, weeping silently beside them. “Lan, you must keep an eye on him. He is not a savior and cannot save this sick country.” Lan could only sob, unable to speak, and Yan gently rubbed her back to soothe her.

“Lan!”

Yan suddenly awoke from his dream and called out her name. In his dream, Lan was still crying, and two tears silently streamed down his wrinkled face.

Unaware of his own tears, he continued smiling at the darkness.