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Red Dragon: Biography
Red Dragon: Biography
Red Dragon: Biography
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Red Dragon: Biography

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A man was born to suffer.

Every part of his life was a bubble, easy to break and easy to be blown away. The philosophy was the same as my story.

I tried not to write with too much of my feelings and emotions but go down the lines with my mind and conscience. Feelings are the waves on the ocean, and emotions are splashes of the mountain streams when they hit the rocks. My mind and conscience are just flat water, still and calm without the push of outside forces... ...

The theme of this book is simple but powerful: Taking down the Chinese Communist Party is a mission of justice for humanity.

This biological novel about the author's life encounters in China from 1967-2003 will give readers lots of surprises and inspiration. The novella could be one of the best books about China after Jung Chang's Wild Swans, which sold over ten million copies worldwide.

The author has published about 20 books on Buddhism, culture, and Chinese history under different pen names.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 17, 2022
ISBN9798215805961
Red Dragon: Biography
Author

yingxiong feng

About the author Yingxiong Feng Pen names: Three Heroes, Lianlong, Cloudy Seagail   Biography 1979-1985 Guangdong Enping Number One Middle School 1985-1989 English Department of Guangzhou Foreign Languages 1989-1992 Guangdong Import & Export Commodity Inspection Bureau 1992-1997 China Travel Service (Guangdong & Macau) 1998-1999 The Earth Editing Commission of People’s Daily 2000-2003 News Department of Guangzhou TV Station 2003-          Live in Australia     Published books in Chinese Buddhism of Tang Dynasty Commentary Notes on Avatamsaka Sutra Argumentation of Lankavatara Sutra Notes and Commentary to Sixth Patriarch's Platform Sutra Notes on the Diamond Sutra Insights of the Surangama Sutra The Power of Mind History, Justice, Faith, Prejudice Chinese Buddhist Century Review: Chinese Buddhism in the Last Hundred Years A Buddhist View of the Analects Inspirations of Śākyamuni's Life Master's View of DAO de Jing Argumentation of Lankavatara Sutra TCM in practice   Published books in English Red Dragon: My Country My Story Communism is dying Knocks at the door of life Health Starts from Mind Viewpoints

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    Red Dragon - yingxiong feng

    Red Dragon

    My Country My Story

    By Yingxiong Feng

    Early Childhood

    A man was born to suffer.

    Every part of his life was a bubble, easy to break and easy to be blown away. The philosophy was the same as my story.

    I tried not to write with too much of my feelings and emotions, but go down the lines with my mind and conscience. Feelings are the waves on the ocean, and emotions are splashes of the mountain streams when they hit the rocks. My mind and conscience are just flat water, still and calm without the push of outside forces.

    But I may not be able to achieve this, as water and waves are one body, not two. They are inseparable. When we level and clear the waves, there is no more water.

    Feelings and emotions hurt, but our minds and conscience do not. They give us courage and encouragement.

    When our minds and conscience suffer, they become feelings and emotions. These feelings and emotions form an essential part of our memoirs.

    I seemed to have started to understand things at three and left memories. 

    Earlier, I couldn't remember anymore, only that my mother had no milk for me, so I often felt hungry.

    I was born in late autumn. I was like a dead baby without clear breaths when I was born. My neighbors and family friends said I would not live, and my parents believed what they said about me and were preparing a funeral for me.

    My grandfather's younger brother used the head of a match to feel my nose and insisted that I was still alive because the match head was somewhat wet as he said it.

    I was left alone on a straw bed for three more days and finally recovered.

    I did not die, and there was no funeral.

    My mother had no milk for me since birth as she had been sick for a long time. So I grew up a weak baby. I remember my mother eating a lot of ginger during my childhood; her body always carried the smell of ginger.

    Summer and autumn were longer than spring and winter, so I remember more summer and autumn days. Between summer and autumn, it was often hot and humid. I liked to lie down in the doorway on summer and autumn afternoons. There was a stone bench on each side of the wooden door. I would lie on the stone wearing only shorts. My bare back made me feel more relaxed and more comfortable.

    The small lane was from north to south, about two meters wide, with five to six houses on both sides. The north led to the mountains, the south to a pond, some paddy fields, and far away to the sea. 

    As a three-year-old kid, the only thing I could do was play with ants. I used a wooden stick to drive the ants. I would force them into the drainage or the wall cracks. I wished I had a magic weapon to form them into an army so that I did not need to use my fingers to punish them. My father promised me a wooden rifle, but it took a long time for him to make me one.

    I am the second child in the family; I have an elder brother, only one year older than me. He did not like to play with me. He was always out and playing with other boys. I had no friends playing with me. 

    When I was three, my mother was pregnant again, and the new baby would be my sister. Still, my mother was busy working in the fields during the daytime while my father was working further away as an accountant. No one had the time to care for me or to play with me. I was most of the time left alone at the age of three.

    My mother was a bit harsh with me. When she came home and saw me taking off my clothes and lying on the floor bareback, she would scold me and sometimes hit me with her fingertips. I truly felt the pain but seldom cried. Although she had no money to buy me new clothes, she always liked seeing me dressed. My father though a strong man was more tender; he's never beaten me. He only smiled and drove me away when I was not behaving well.

    While lying on the stone bench and sleeping, some kids passing by would make fun of me with all kinds of tricks. For example, two might tighten my penis with a rope and try to hang me up. I would then wake up, chase them to the end of the lane and finally throw a stone to frighten them.

    Some kids played in the muddy field. Others caught small fish in the brook. When leeches sucked their blood, they liked to dry them in the sun, together with the little fish. They had other games and fights. I did not want to join them.

    Several villagers were blind or disabled. We, as kids, often made fun of them. They were inferior, and no one was taking care of them. One disabled man lost one leg and always carried a wooden stick when walking. People said he once tried to seduce a girl and thus had one of his legs slaughtered by a knife. I didn't make fun of him because he gave me little picture books to read. He told me he had been a fisherman that went far away into the seas beyond Hong Kong.

    In the village, there were eight boys of my age. Most of them looked more muscular than me. I looked darker on my face, and they called me ox when I charged them. One was blind in one eye, but he was my best friend. He tried to defend me on those occasions.

    I felt different from them. Those boys and girls were all childish in work and games. I was not silly, and I had more to consider.

    I was often bored. I wanted to be away from the community and away from the village. On three sides of the farming village were hills and mountains. In the western mountains, there was a reservoir. Two roads crossed in front of the village, each leading into the mountains many miles away, where there were towns. It was the beginning of the sea and the end of a giant ocean to the south. We could see boats in the distance from the village whose land was a bit higher. 

    As little children, we often followed the adults into the mountains to pick up firewood and cut weeds for fire, especially on summer and autumn days. There were wild fruits for food and spring water for drinking in the mountains.

    I only heard of the towns behind those mountains and hills. I did not know the whereabouts far in the direction of the sea. Before the age of five, I was never away from the village. But I was eager to learn what was behind those mountains and seas.

    On summer afternoons, boys often followed the adults to the muddy beaches where shrubs grew in tidal coastal swamps. Fishermen could find crabs and other seafood there. We sometimes hear stories of villagers stuck in those mangroves and dying.

    Typhoon was common every year. When a typhoon came, it was always wild and devastating. Once, a storm tore off the sea banks, and seawater covered all the coastal villages. Soldiers in uniforms came for rescue. That was the first time I saw an army truck with canned food.

    It was common to see villagers quarreling or even fighting each other. People from different villages did not get along well with one another either. They would fight hard in groups with spades and shovels for irrigation water.

    The west end of the village was of higher ground, and the barnyard was there. Surrounding the corrals were piles of dry weeds as firewood. While the adults were working, children often ran around the stacks in fighting groups, one group acting as the Communist Liberation Red Army and another as the Kuomingtang Army that always fell first to the ground.

    Bamboos, banyan, and other tropical trees planted at the east end of the village formed a bush, where we often played hide and seek. One year during a pandemic, the commune ordered to cut down all the bamboo and trees so that the epidemic personnel could burn infected animals there. There was a virus smell, and we no longer played at the site.

    Every year there were two to three funerals in the village, and we saw more from the neighboring towns. Funerals did not look sad as villagers would join for a free meal. I thought it funny to see most mourners have fake cries in the processions. Four people carried the coffin to the nearby mountains where the dead bodies found their resting place, and mourners would strike a dozen color flags on top of the tombs. I was scared of ghosts when we passed by those tombs at night.

    Sometimes we saw wanderers in the village. These passersby were vagabonds from other provinces. These aliens spoke different dialects. However, when they tried hard to communicate, I seemed to understand a little bit more. They seemed to know more of the world. But they were mostly in tattered clothes and begging for food.

    One afternoon while lying on my stone bench, I felt the mountain breezes blowing again, a little tender and a little sad, but with some sort of bliss, a delightful feeling from the abode of a Wonderland.

    A vagabond passed by. With a smile, the man asked for water. I fetched him some. I saw him in rags, bareheaded, carrying a yellow bag. He asked if I had something to eat. I went back home and took a sweet potato for him.

    I asked, Where are you from?

    He said, From Sichuan.

    I asked, Where is that?

    He said, Far, far away, to the north. I've walked months here.

    I asked, What are you doing here? I mean, why are you wandering around?

    He said, I am a monk.

    I asked, What is a monk?

    He said, A monk wanders around.

    I asked, What if your family is looking for you?

    He said, I don't have a family.

    I had no more questions. 

    The monk said, Good man! You are a shining mirror, brighter than any great man. 

    I did not understand what he said. I smiled at him.

    He thanked me and left the village. I felt it happier to give than receive.

    Later I learned that I was born on October 9, 1967, the second year after the communist dictator Mao Zedong started the Cultural Revolution.

    My hometown was named Lotus Dragon Village of Huangbo commune in Enping County of Guangdong Province.

    I did not know why our ancestors chose the name Lotus Dragon, or Lianlong in Chinese, only that Dragon symbolized the motherland of China. There was no lotus in the village. For some years, people changed the word Lotus to Alliance, also meaning Lian, making it sound more like commune or the soviet Union Alliance. In those days, they wanted to relate everything to communism.

    Several nearby villages also had similar names, like Dragon Pond or Dragon Field; the commune indeed sounded like an alliance of dragons. But this communist red dragon brought about disasters to the citizens of this motherland.

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