Jiuri Mountain (九日山). The official starting point of the Silk Road of the Sea was not Quanzhou city proper but Jiuri (9th Day) Mountain in Nan’an, about seven km from Quanzhou city’s West Gate. The Han Chinese had a big (or actually, a very small) reason for not settling down on the coast—mosquitoes.

The coast teemed with malarial mosquitoes, and tens of thousands died before they moved inland. Only after a massive land reclamation effort, which drained the malarial marshes, were Chinese able to move to the coast itself. But Jiuri was an auspicious place to begin because of its perfect “fengshui” (“wind and water”—the Chinese geomancy that dictates much of Chinese life).

A Chinese guide in northeast Fujian told me that a NASA photo showed glowing spots all over China, and on inspection they all turned out to be ancient tombs—thus proving, scientifically, the validity of “fengshui”.

The mountain is called Jiuri (9th day) because from the Jin to the Song dynasties, disposed nobles in Quanzhou climbed the mountain each year on the 9th day of the 9th month, and gazed with longing toward their former home in the north. And here they performed the Safe Passage Ceremony, for both Chinese and foreign ships, to the “God of Transportation” (precursor of California Highway Maintenance).

Yanfu Temple. Fujian’s oldest temple (or second oldest, some argue), was built in 288 at the base of Jiuri Mountain, facing the river to the south, with hills on the west, east and north, like an armchair. Jiuri offers ideal “fengshui”—and a picturesque pallet for centuries of calligraphers.

At Dr. Lim’s we met a calligrapher of note. Persuaded to write an inscription for us, his brush almost miraculously brought life and movement to the paper. With a superbly graceful precision, his hand seemed to be evoking beauty that was already there, rather than making a dogmatic statement. But the Chinese have, it seems, always known that and beauty cannot be taken by storm.

—Averil Mackenzie-Grieve1

Calligraphy. While Yanfu Temple is one of Jiuri Mountain’s 36 official sites, the real drawing card is calligraphy. My Chinese guide boasted: “Every meter of these cliffs is covered in ancient calligraphy!”

“So are American subways,” I said. And speaking of that, Jiuri even has English calligraphy—not graffiti but real calligraphy.

UNESCO Calligraphy. The 1991 UNESCO Maritime Silk Road Expedition visited Jiuri Mountain and left an English inscription, with signatures in many Western languages. The English UNESCO inscription reads:

Seven centuries after the ‘begging wind’ inscription a new inscription illustrating friendship and dialogue will be added to Jiuri Mountain. We, the international team of the UNESCO Maritime Road Expedition, who have traveled from Africa, the Americas. Asia, and Europe on board the Fulk al Falan ship of Hefoe lent for the occasion by the Sultan of Oman, are here as pilgrims not only to renew that age-old prayer but also to carry the message of peace between peoples which is the ultimate aim of the UNESCO integral study of the Silk Road. Roads of dialogue. 15 February 1991, International Team Maritime Road Expedition.

The most important inscriptions are the records of the sacrificial rites held by Southern Song Dynasty Quanzhou officials when they prayed for smooth sailing (which UNESCO called “begging winds”). Other key inscriptions include those by famous Song Dynasty philosopher Zhu Xi, and the unique inscription by Luoyang Bridge’s builder Cai Xiang. Where other calligraphers wrote on paper and had it transferred to stone, Cai Xiang wrote directly on the stone—but what would one expect from a man who was said to have received bridge building advice from King Neptune himself.

A concrete pavilion near the peak, crafted to resemble wood, honors an esteemed poet who lived there for 23 years. A round, flat stone is inscribed with “Fan Jing Shi” (Translating Sutras Stone, 翻经石), in memory of the Indian monk (拘那罗陀, Indian name, or 真谛三藏, Chinese name), who lived here around 300 while translating Buddhist scriptures into Chinese. He must have had company because he scratched a Chinese chess board into a stone.

One of the most unusual inhabitants was a monk who lived in a tiny cave for 44 years. Some say he was Chinese, while others say Indian. Regardless, it is hard to believe he could have spent his entire life in that hole-in-the-wall.

Stone Buddha (石佛) is 300 years older than the Old Stone Saint in Quanzhou. After he lost his head during the “Cultural Revolution”, Hui’an artisans crafted a cement head, which probably helps give Stone Buddha a more concrete philosophy on life.

Minnan Village Cultural Landmark (蔡资深古民居). For a delightful look at 19th century life, visit Nan’an’s sprawling Minnan village just south of Guanqiao, and two km west of the No.324 Highway. The 16-house complex, which now has 200 residents, was built between 1865 and 1911 by Mr. Cai Qian (Cai Zishen), a Nan’an native with three brothers and 10 sons. At age 16 he emigrated to the Philippines, where he prospered, and after carving a name for himself in the Philippine history books, he returned to Nan’an to carve (literally) a home for himself and his descendants.

None Like Mr. Cai’s. What makes Mr. Cai’s home really stand out is the profusion of intricate stone, wood and tile carvings, from granite foundations to intricate ceramic eaves. The endless carvings gave rise to a local saying: “You can have millions, but not have a house like Mr. Cai.”

The caretaker, a 4th generation descendant of Mr. Cai, gave us tea, and then a tour. The village has stone sidewalks covering the drainage, firewalls between each row of buildings, and large courtyards to dry grain. As I entered the home, I was told that Minnan homes always had three steps to represent “Tian” (heaven, 天), “Di” (earth地), and “Ren” (benevolence, 仁). There are also four doors, and a Minnan tradition reminds one to “respect parents when entering the right door”, and “respect others like brothers” when exiting the left door. Of course, one should never, ever, enter through the two center doors!

Doors. Traditional houses had four front doors, but the two center doors, with their brightly painted celestial guardians, were always kept barred, and opened only for the emperor. Everyone else, including the master of the house (and her husband) used the side doors.

In 2020, a man in west Fujian threw open his center doors with a flourish and said: “Only for the emperor—and today, for you!” It was a nice gesture, but with everyone watching, I could not bring myself to step over the lintel, so I said: “Not even us American devils are that fat!” And as my host laughed, I slipped in through the right door.

Ming Dynasty Styrofoam. The chipped corner of an old, richly carved “beauties bench”(美人靠), upon which foot-bound beauties spent their days on display, revealed not wood but some white material. I looked closer and discovered it was Styrofoam! But I wasn’t overly surprised. Chinese invented everything else, so why not Styrofoam? But it turned out that a 20-part TV series about Koxinga’s descendants had been filmed here and this was just a leftover movie prop.

Mr. Cai’s Unusual Well. Chinese love wells, the older the better—like the 1,000-year-old well at Ashab Mosque, or the 2,000-year-old well at Wuyi Mountain’s Minyue King Palace. And of course, they swear that the water in each well is as clear as the day it was dug (regardless of decades of tourists losing within its depths their eyeglasses, cameras, handkerchiefs). Mr. Cai’s well was not old, but it was allegedly very unusual. The water is supposedly warm in winter and cool in summer. Professor Wu Shinong drew some water from the well to prove the point, but it seemed neither hot nor cold. Near the well was the Cai Clan stone tub in which girls bathed in water to which had been added aromatic herbs.

Virgin Goddess Mazu? The ancestral shelf’s various gods included a local god with a flowing white beard, and a small “Pusa” that evoked quite a debate. One man claimed it was the Virgin Mary, because Mr. Cai had spent most of his life in the predominately Catholic Philippines. Another argued she was a Buddhist goddess, perhaps Guanyin (the Hindu god who had a sex change to become the Chinese goddess of mercy). Yet another said it was Goddess Mazu, who like Mary was also a virgin, and therefore perhaps the same person. I stayed out of the conversation.

Eclectic Architecture. Given the architecture, who knows what religion they worshipped! One wall’s base has a Hindu lotus motif, while a nearby roof has Muslim style eaves (the roof dragons, by the way, were allowed on the homes of 7th-level government officials or higher).

Tom and Jerry. Many carvings illustrate historical stories or fables. One wall’s base has a granite mouse stealing a gourd, but his days are numbered because a granite cat is eyeing him. A wooden wall carving depicts the 24 models of Confucian filial piety that we saw represented in Chongwu’s Field of Statues—the son baring his arm for mosquitoes to keep them off his parents, the youth melting ice with his bare back to get a fish for his ailing wicked stepmother, the maid breastfeeding her ailing mother, the pious emperor tasting his father’s excrement to help diagnose his disease, etc. We could also learn a lesson or two from the headless horseman…

Headless Horseman. During the “Cultural Revolution”, Red Guards destroyed cultural treasures in even the most remote places, so Mr. Cai’s home, so close to a highway, was not neglected. They destroyed or defaced carvings, and chiseled off so many heads and faces that that Mr. Cai’s house has more headless horsemen than Sleepy Hollow. Like the carvings of Confucius’ tales, these headless statues also teach a lesson to those of us who want to get a head—or keep our head.

Elegant Old Furniture. Rooms were rather bare by American standards, but what little furniture they had was exquisite. One room was empty but for a round mahogany table with inlaid marble top, and benches. The canopied beds now fetch thousands of dollars in antique stores, though Xianyou has excellent reproductions. (Imagine my dismay when an Anxi peasant friend told me they had just burned a beautiful 200-year-old carved canopy bed because a grandmother had died in it!).

Renovations. Endless carvings and calligraphy are nice, but for me it was a bit overkill. What I most appreciated was the sheer functionality of the place, right down to small details like the sliding slatted wooden windows. But if Mr. Cai’s mansion cost a pretty penny to build, it is now costing the government a small fortunate to keep it up as well. Nan’an’s former Mayor Chen said the government has spent over 1 million yuan in restoration and installation of fire alarms, and hires security guards to protect their investment. Unfortunately, these guards are about 30 years too late to stop the Red Guards from beheading horsemen.

Music to My Ears. At the Cai Mansion guard gate we came across elderly gents playing traditional instruments. They gave us a rousing performance of Southern Music and Mayor Chen unabashedly belted out the accompaniment for some ancient Minnan folk songs. But the high-pitched folk songs in the nasally Minnan dialect aren’t exactly my cup of tea (or coffee either), and it must have showed. The man playing the two-stringed Chinese fiddle (“erhu”, 二胡) apologetically explained that Minnan singers are limited because they have only the five notes of the ancient pentatonic scale. It sounded to me like they had dozens of notes, and none in a key that I’d ever heard of. But I smiled, and said: “No problem. I know all eight notes and I can’t sing either.”

Nan’an Cuisine. After visiting the Cai Mansion, we had a delightful lunch of Nan’an cuisine (Minnan cuisine, but with some delightful twists I’d not seen elsewhere). I especially enjoyed the lamb rib (“yangpai”,羊排) with peanut sauce, the taro and black mushrooms, and the Minnan rice with dried oysters and taro (芋头饭). I thought it would be hard to stomach the local specialty, “Twice boiled fish stomach in pork broth” (鱼鳔煲), but it was actually quite tasty. We also enjoyed bitter melon and pine nuts (苦瓜和松子) and Nan’an’s most expensive fish, Eastern Star Fish (东星鱼), which costs 175 yuan a “jin” (1.1 lbs) even here in the outback. I think they misnamed it. It should be named Eastern Five-Star Fish! After a dish of hot succulent crab (which Chinese call a “cool” food), we were served piquant ginger tea, which is “hot”. This balanced the body’s “heat” and also cleared the palate for the next course.

As we ate, Mayor Chen explained that the son-in-law of Tan Kah Kee (Chen Jiageng) was born in Nan’an, and after the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression, most of XMU’s money came from the son-in-law, not Tan Kah Kee—hence XMU and Nan’an’s close relationship. But Nan’an’s favorite son is, of course, the Japanese/Chinese pirate-cum-hero liberator of Taiwan, Koxinga! So we trudged off to his ancestral home’s Koxinga Memorial Hall.

Koxinga Memorial Hall (Zheng Chenggong Jinian Guan, 郑成功纪念馆)

Koxinga, who liberated Taiwan from the Dutch, is as much a hero to the Japanese as the Chinese. For one thing, Koxinga was partly “made in Japan”—born in Japan of a Japanese mother and Chinese father from Nan’an. Japanese also admire his bravery and loyalty, and during the 19th century, plays about Koxinga were as popular in Japan as Shakespearean plays in England. Koxinga died in Taiwan and was buried in Tainan until his grandson brought his body back to his ancestral home in 1699, but today Taiwan has over 100 temples dedicated to Koxinga.

Man of Steles. The Koxinga Memorial has photographs, paintings and artifacts, and to the right of the memorial is a “stele forest” with a large collection of stone steles graced with the calligraphy of famous folks. When I asked how they got important personages to laboriously carve Chinese characters onto stone, my guide looked at me as if I were from outer space and not just another country (though Chinese does strike me as from another planet at times), and said: “They didn’t carve the stone. They wrote it on paper, and workers traced it onto polished granite or marble and carved it out.”

I had no idea what they said, but I appreciated their innovativeness. In fact, they were so innovative that my Chinese friends could not read some of them either. Maybe they were doctor’s prescriptions?

The characters on one stele were stylized roses. Another used the beautiful ancient characters that resembled what they represented (sun, moon, mountains) until centuries of scholars so stylized them that they became unrecognizable. One calligrapher drew his characters in such a way that they resembled a scholar (for the life of me I could not figure out what it said).

The exhibit also has some of Koxinga’s calligraphy, in which he warned: “Study is most important.” Maybe so, but good marksmanship didn’t hurt either—especially after the scholar Koxinga burned his Confucian robes and went to war. While Edward Bulwer-Lytton claimed: “The pen is mightier than the sword,” I suspect that usually only holds true when the pen is 22 calibers.

After the memorial and forest of steles, check out Koxinga’s ancestral home at the bottom of the hill, and then visit the Koxinga Mausoleum.

FormalPara Legend of the “Made in Japan” Chinese Hero Koxinga

Zheng Chenggong (1624–1662), called Koxinga by the Dutch, learned his trade from his father Zheng Zhilong.

Zheng Zhilong was from Shijing 石井 (stone well), at the mouth of Anhai creek (location of the famous Anping Bridge). In his youth he studied foreign trade in Macao, then sailed to Japan and applied Portuguese trade principles to piracy. By the 1620s, Zhilong’s enormous fleet literally ruled the Fujian coast. In 1626 and 1627 he attacked and took possession of Amoy (Xiamen) Island, which became the base for his piracy and smuggling operations. In 1628, Zhilong surrendered to the Ming authorities so he could enjoy official status, and as a reward he was promoted to major and then provincial military governor, thus making the transition from pirate to politician (which was not much of a transition). By now, Zhilong’s family were practically the overlords of Fujian Province, and with his tremendous wealth, he built a walled town south of Quanzhou in Anping (Anhai), which became a prosperous trading center.

Zheng Zhilong supplemented his enormous fortune by selling protection to traders—which they dared not refuse, because Zhilong had over 1,000 ships and a private navy under his control. But Zheng Zhilong sealed his fate when he surrendered to the Manchus after they invaded Fujian, because he was opposed by no other than his son, Koxinga.

Somewhere in Zhilong’s busy pirating schedule he had found time to marry a Japanese maid, Miss Tagawa, who bore a son: Fu Song, aka Zheng Chenggong, aka Koxinga. Legends claim that stars fell and the heavens sang on the night of his birth.

When Koxinga was seven, his father shipped him back to the ancestral home of Nan’an for school. Like all fathers before and since, Zhilong wanted his son to have what he did not have as a youth—namely, lots of homework.

Koxinga was an excellent scholar and survived both school and homework, and at age 21 headed off to Nanjing State College, never dreaming that his future lay not in scholastics but in piracy and politics—thanks to the militant Manchus.

After a peasant army overthrew the Ming Dynasty, the Manchus waltzed into the power vacuum and created the Qing Dynasty. After a fight in Fuzhou in 1646, Tagawa (Koxinga’s mother) was raped by Manchus on Amoy and committed suicide. When Koxinga’s father surrendered, Confucian filial piety dictated that Koxinga also throw in the towel (remember the 24 parables of Confucian piety?), but for some reason (perhaps his mother’s suicide?), Koxinga parted ways with his father.

In 1647, at the tender age of 23, Koxinga and his over 90 followers began his Gulangyu-islet based anti-Qing rebellion.

Koxinga changed Xiamen’s name to Siming (“Remember the Ming”, 思明), which is the name of one of Xiamen’s two main streets even today. Gulangyu Islet’s Sunlight Rock was his command center, and training ground for Koxinga’s legendary fighters. He chose as his body guards (Tiger Guards) only those who could pick up a 600-pound iron lion and walk off with it.

Koxinga’s legendary fighters wore iron masks and iron aprons, wielded bows and arrows painted green, and used long handled swords for killing horses—a brilliant strategy he learned in school days while studying about the Great Wall. (The Great Wall was built to keep out not the barbarians but their horses, for while the Tartars were well-nigh invincible on horseback, on foot the Chinese easily made Tartar sauce out of them).

On April 21, 1661, Koxinga set sail with 25,000 men and hundreds of war junks to drive the Dutch from Taiwan and return the island to the motherland. This mission cost him his life, but forever endeared him to Chinese on both sides of the Straits. On January 27, 1662, the Dutch surrendered, and Koxinga’s men kicked back and played the Mooncake Gambling Game (you will too if you’re in south Fujian or Taiwan during Mid-Autumn Festival). But patriotism had taken a greater toll on Koxinga’s health than piracy had. He died five months later on June 23. One Chinese historian noted somberly that Koxinga “died of overwork”. May it be a lesson to us all.

Koxinga’s son took over his father’s work, but in the end Koxinga’s descendants were done in by the descendants of a young soldier that Koxinga wronged and vastly underestimated…

FormalPara General Shi Lang (施琅)

The great hero General Shi Lang was but one of Koxinga’s tens of thousands of nameless soldiers when Koxinga ordered him put to death. Shi Lang escaped, so Koxinga had his entire family put to death instead, but Shi had revenge (of a sorts) on Koxinga’s descendants.

Years later, when the Qing emperor wanted to oust Koxinga’s descendants from power in Taiwan, he asked Premier Li Guangdi (李光地) which general to send. Li Guangdi was from Hutou (湖光) Town in Quanzhou’s Anxi County (安溪县). You can visit his former home (“Li Guangdi Guju”, 李光地故居) in Anxi’s Hutou Town.

Premier Li knew of Shi Lang’s hatred for the Zheng Clan, so he urged the emperor not to appoint a northerner, who had no feelings about the matter, but to appoint a local who had vested interests in the matter—Shi Lang. Shi was of course delighted to cross swords with the descendants of the man who had murdered his family, but upon his victory, instead of seeking revenge, Shi Lang allowed Koxinga’s descendants to return to Quanzhou, and to bring back the body of Koxinga to be buried in Nan’an. This rare combination of military prowess and benevolence earned Shi widespread respect and admiration (though once in power, the Shi family turned out to be fairly rascally as well).

General Shi Lang is also remembered for rebuilding and expanding Nanputuo Temple in 1684, during the reign of Emperor Kangxi. Shi Lang added the Great Mercy Hall for the worship of Guanyin, Goddess, and changed the temple’s name from “Pu Zhao” to “Nanputuo”. The large bronze bell was cast during his reconstruction project. On the emperor’s orders, Shi also expanded the Goddess Mazu Temple on Meizhou Island because he attributed his success on Taiwan to the sea goddess’s intervention. If you’d like to meet the great man, drop by his tomb—not in Nan’an but to the north of Quanzhou, but while we’re on this grave subject, I’ll throw in a few words about tombs.

FormalPara Tomb Raiders

China’s historic tombs are a grave site for anyone expecting to encounter something really historic. Most tombs resemble Lin Lu’s resting place, where the emphasis is more on the extinguished gentleman’s comfort than on preserving historic relics. Not only have significant tombs undergone complete face lifts, with new stone and concrete embellishments, but ancient carvings have vanished. Of course, some are in museums, where they are protected from the elements, vandalism, and theft. But at least the folks in charge should put up a sign (and photos) explaining what used to be on the site, and where it has gone to.

Wangchao’s Tomb. A Chinese book described the marvelous old stone animals around Wangchao’s Tomb so I headed Toy Ota down a narrow winding rutted road, through a village and across fields, until I finally found—a new construction site!

The grand arch is impressive, but I climbed all over the site and found nothing but a little chunk of stone sheep that was cowering in the grass. Disappointing. But Shi Lang’s Tomb turned out to be a site for sore eyes!

General Shi Lang’s Tomb. Just above the Luoyang River, on the No. 324 Highway, a sign for General Shi’s tomb points west. I figured it would be just off the road, but it took half an hour to get there. It turned out to be 15 km away, and I stopped every few minutes to make sure I had not missed it. It is not that easy to find, but it is one tomb that is well worth the trip. And judging from the size of the parking lot, the locals are expecting a lot of tourists to visit the final resting place of the benevolent general.

The entire site has obviously been recently renovated, but with style. The stone path leading to the tomb crosses a river and winds underneath shrubs that have been pruned to form shady arches. The general still rests in his old tomb in the back, up against the hillside, his top two wives on either side. Rows of newly hewn granite officials guard the general’s grave, and before them are two rows of original carved animals.

It is a great tomb—and worth the ride to get there.

FormalPara Note
  1. 1.

    Mackenzie-Grieve, Averil, “A Race of Green Ginger,” Putnam, London, 1959, p. 112, 113