Here For Xiao Zhan (xiaozhan.ca)

Xiao Zhan, a boy from ChongQing: I sing “Ode to the Red Plum Blossom” from my heart for you. The more it blooms in the cold, the more it symbolizes our national spirit.

Hello everyone! I’m Xiao Zhan. Today, I’m going to sing “Ode to the Red Plum Blossom,” a song that symbolizes ChongQing, for you.

When ChongQing is mentioned, most people’s first thought is ChongQing hot pot. In the summer, many people sit on the street, eating spicy hot pot, playing drinking games with friends, and drinking ice-cold beer. That’s the vibrant, down-to-earth ChongQing life I remember. Someone once asked me what makes ChongQing’s spiciness different, and I would say it’s numbing and spicy. Hot pot in this mountain city is never just about being spicy; it must be spicy with the aroma of Sichuan peppercorns—that’s the authentic ChongQing flavor.

I consider myself a typical ChongQing native: bold, decisive, and straightforward. It’s as if all the flavors of ChongQing hotpot broth are ingrained in me, flowing in my blood. Having grown up in ChongQing and lived there for over twenty years, my strongest impression is that ChongQing people are generally quite “stubborn.” I don’t know if it’s because we’re constantly “climbing” – climbing mountains and overcoming obstacles every day, going against the grain – that inherent “stubbornness” seems to have slowly seeped into every ChongQing person.

Since moving to Beijing, I’ve had far fewer opportunities to go home. The last time I went back, I slipped into a back alley and had a steaming bowl of ChongQing noodles. My memories of the street scenes from my childhood aren’t as clear, but I still remember most of that familiar taste. My childhood memories of this “mountain city” are probably the endless steps on the mountainside, the “porters” shouting on the slopes, and the now-vanished Chaotianmen railway tracks. I can still recall that when I was a child, I had to climb a very long staircase on my way home. Every day, I felt that the staircase was so hard to climb, and I really didn’t want to climb it. When I went down the stairs, I would fantasize about whether there was a slide next to it so I could slide down with a “whoosh”. But later, I climbed it every day, up and down, and it didn’t seem so difficult anymore.

When I was in junior high school, there were still many “porters” in ChongQing. They carried meter-long bamboo poles and two blue nylon ropes, walking through the streets and alleys, calling out their wares. Near the 18 Steps, you could see “porters”—the elderly, children, and those carrying loads—all striving to climb upwards. I felt that this vividly demonstrated the spirit of the people of ChongQing: even when life isn’t always smooth sailing, even when facing various difficulties, we still firmly look forward, move upwards, and never look back.

If you go to ChongQing, you absolutely must visit Jiefangbei (Liberation Monument). My parents used to take me there almost every week. Back then, I thought it was incredibly tall, but now when I go back, there are so many new skyscrapers rising up around it. It gives me a sense of contrast and conflict between historical accumulation and development. It’s like someone who has been away from home for too long; when they see it again, their heart is filled with anticipation mixed with a touch of unfamiliarity and uncertainty. Fortunately, no matter how ChongQing’s streetscape changes, it remains the mountain city I remember, and Jiefangbei will forever witness ChongQing’s transformation on that pedestrian street. This stone monument seems to have dissected and woven the history of the old city into the very bones of every generation of ChongQing people.

Just like my grandmother, she’s a typical ChongQing native. She single-handedly raised four children from childhood to adulthood, and I saw the resilience of the people of ChongQing in her. I think she’s incredibly great. When I was little, she would sing to me to lull me to sleep, songs like “Night at the Military Port,” “Ten Red Army Soldiers Sent Off,” and “Ode to the Red Plum Blossom”… I’ve known these songs since I was little, and hearing them now feels like going back to those nights many years ago, falling asleep in my grandmother’s arms.

Growing up in ChongQing, the heroic stories depicted in songs and novels aren’t actually that far removed from our lives. Because in every corner of this city, you can see traces of that era. I can’t quite remember when I first visited the Zhazidong Concentration Camp, but I vaguely recall the dimly lit rooms, the tiger benches, and the oppressive atmosphere. I find it hard to imagine what kind of spirit allowed these revolutionary martyrs to withstand such torture, maintaining their will from being completely destroyed by the enemy. I feel that no matter how detailed the written description, it’s not as good as stepping into this history yourself, experiencing it firsthand.

I am very happy to have the opportunity to sing “Ode to the Red Plum Blossom” that my grandmother sang for me. The melody of this song is melodious and beautiful. Through the lyrics, I can almost see the heroes who, although imprisoned, still maintained their indomitable and shining character.

This time, I’m singing “Ode to the Red Plum Blossom” from my heart for you. I hope that through this song, I can convey to young friends that we must not forget this history, but more importantly, we must move forward with history. Just like the pandemic we have just experienced, we have made arduous efforts and huge sacrifices, but we have not been defeated by difficulties, nor have we wallowed in sadness. Instead, we have moved forward firmly with a positive spirit and been reborn from the ashes.

This song, “Ode to the Red Plum Blossom,” is dedicated to ChongQing, to China after the pandemic, to China’s youth, and to myself.

Folk Songs China Exclusive Article Written by: Xiao Zhan Edited by: Folk Songs Jun Exchange and Cooperation