The following is an abridged version for the Observer. For the extended version, see the article posted to Caleb Washington’s Substack here.
Introduction from both authors
We hope readers notice and appreciate not only the bridges built because of this experience, but also the differences of opinion reflected in our respective writings through personal and cultural perspectives.
Caleb Washington’s Experience
One of the reasons my classmate Chunhua decided to go to Suqian was because of a dream she had a while back. In part of the dream, she saw the name of a Chinese person who she later learned was a soldier—deemed by the Chinese government to be a “martyr”—who fought during the Korean War, or the “Great Movement to Resist America and Assist Korea” (抗美援朝战争), as it is often referred to in China. She discovered that his hometown was a small village outside of Suqian and decided she wanted to go there to find his descendants.
When we found the martyr’s grandson, we presented alcohol she had bought for him and sat down with him and a few onlookers. As my classmate began to explain why we were there, you could feel something connect, and we ended up spending the rest of the day with them.
After a long chat in their house, they took us out to dinner. Without us even asking, they offered to give us a ride back to our hotel afterward. The great-grandson was coughing a lot during dinner, and we later learned that his wife drove us an hour back to our hotel because he had gone straight to the hospital after dinner. Around midnight, my friend received a text from the wife saying she had left a bag of fruit in our hotel lobby.
The next day, they not only invited us to breakfast but also asked us to come to dinner at their house for the Mid-Autumn Festival. We didn’t want to intrude on their family gathering, so we decided on a happy medium: we would leave them a gift—cooking oil, fruit, an appropriate drink, and some boxes of nuts and mooncakes, which I learned were the traditional gifts in this situation—somewhere they could find it before we returned to Nanjing so they could spend the festival as a family.
Once we made it to the area, we decided to drop the gifts near their house and give the great-grandson a call. My classmate called him, and though he was apparently in the hospital again, she told him we had left some gifts but didn’t want to disturb their Mid-Autumn Festival dinner. He told us to stop where we were and wait for him. He left the hospital and, with his wife, went out to find us and bring us back to their house for dinner. After tracking us down, they drove us back to their home, where we enjoyed an amazing and generous Mid-Autumn Festival meal before they took us back to our hotel in preparation for our return to Nanjing.
Chunhua Jiang (Joelin)’s Experience
In June 2024, I was living in Vienna when I had a dream of being in danger. I forged alliances with kung fu masters from different countries and finally summoned the courage to confront the evil in my dream with a silver pistol that had a strange name engraved on the chamber: “方孝文.” After this dream, an infection I had in real life soon healed. Curious, I searched to see if this name belonged to a real person. My search uncovered a man who sacrificed himself during the Korean War in 1952 and was posthumously honored as a martyr.
The name lingered in my mind, as if inviting me to find him. Out of pure curiosity, I decided to set out during the National Day holiday to learn more about the martyr’s story. When my American classmate Caleb Washington told me he wanted to go to Suqian with me to look for the descendants of the martyr—who might or might not exist—I immediately searched for various polite English refusals and finally said a soft, “I need to think twice.” In the end, we decided to go to Suqian together.
We found the martyr’s two direct descendants—his eldest grandson and eldest great-grandson. They sat beside me and listened as I told them about the dream. I was struck with a sudden feeling of uncertainty, but when I saw the eyes of the great-grandson light up, when I touched the government-issued certificate of martyrdom bearing the unique name from my dream, and when the real conditions faced by some retired Chinese people moved my American classmate to tears, my worries were replaced by an overwhelming mix of emotions.
Beyond my gratitude for their kindness, I was enveloped by ineffable sorrow when they told me the amount of their pension and that, even after years of hard work, they and many others still have to labor tirelessly to make a living. The great-grandson of the martyr asked me, “Is diligence a trait specific to Chinese people? I feel we have been working hard for several generations but still have to keep working hard.”
I can still easily recall the moment I saw the martyr’s name on the yellowed paper recording the battle in which he died—the story his descendants had forgotten. Two words filled my mind at that moment: He existed!
Edited by: Krithiga Narayanan
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