The Legend of Meng Jiangnü's Bitter Weeping

Meng Jiangn?is the heartbroken heroine of The Legend of Meng Jiangn?s Bitter Weeping, one of China's Four Great Folktales (alongside The Butterfly Lovers, Lady White Snake, and The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl). Set during the brutal reign of the Qin Dynasty (221-206 BC), her story has endured for centuries as a powerful symbol of love, grief, and defiance against oppression.

A young woman from a rural village, Meng Jiangn?marries Fan Xiliang (or Wan Xiliang, Wan Liang), only to have him forcibly conscripted by Qin officials to labor on the Great Wall of China. Shortly after, he dies from exhaustion, and his body is buried within the Wall itself. Devastated, Meng Jiangn?embarks on a thousand-mile journey to bring him winter clothes-only to discover his fate. Her anguished weeping moves heaven and earth, causing a section of the Wall to collapse, revealing his bones.

As a shared cultural treasure of the Chinese nation, this legend originating from the Han people has spread across various ethnic groups, including the Man, Zhuang, Dong, Maonan, and Mulao, over the course of history. While each version possesses unique artistic expressions, spiritual beliefs, and social meanings, they all preserve the core narrative of "a husband conscripted into forced labor and a wife's desperate journey to find him." This reflects the Chinese nation's cultural inclusiveness and deep emotional bonds as a whole. The diverse ethnic adaptations of this story serve as a vivid testament to the pluralistic unity of Chinese culture, embodying the collective memory jointly created and cherished by all ethnic groups.

Part of the story runs as follows: The wind howled through the abandoned battlefield, carrying whispers of two names: L?Bu and L?Buwei.

Once, they had stood at the pinnacle of power-gilded names, men who could command armies with a flick of their wrist. But now? Their graves lay in silence, bearing no inscriptions, as if even the earth itself refused to remember them.

Greed had coiled around them first as a whisper, then as chains.

L?Bu, the warrior without equal, had traded his honor for illusory wealth, betraying lord after lord until his name became synonymous with treachery. His tomb stood unmarked, not out of reverence, but because no one dared etch his crimes into stone.

L?Buwei, the merchant-king, had clawed his way to the heart of the Qin Dynasty, weaving webs of deception so vast they ensnared even the unborn. His legacy? A dynasty built on rot, his own wife coveting power like a thief covets gold.

History laughed at them.

The Spring and Autumn Annals had inked their deeds in black, a permanent stain no fire could cleanse. Their sins had erupted like wildfire, scorching every generation that followed-thieves raising thieves, each more ruthless than the last.

And in the end?

No peace. No redemption.

A Wall of Sorrow, A Woman of Jade

Mencius once warned: "Mountains won't shield a rotting heart. A nation cannot be secured by the steepness of its rivers."

Yet Qin Shi Huang, deaf to wisdom, raised his Great Wall-stone by stone, corpse by corpse.

The earth trembled beneath the weight of his pride. Millions perished, their bodies pressed into the ramparts, their souls clinging to the stones. Even now, if one listens closely, the wind carries their whispers-breath reeking of turned soil and old blood.