A story about ginseng

Wild ginseng is found in northeastern China. The remote Changbai Mountain in Jilin Province is especially well-known for growing wild ginseng roots that are hundreds or even thousands of years old. But the legend has it that the real hometown of ginseng is Shandong, not northeastern China.

Here is the story:

A long, long time ago there was a temple called Yunmeng temple on Yunmeng Mountain in Shandong. (Yunmeng means “dreams of clouds” in Chinese). There were two monks in the temple, one master and one disciple. The master was never in the mood for reading Buddhist scriptures or working in the field. He treated his young disciple very cruelly, and the young monk became pale and looked very weak.

One day the old monk left the temple and left the young disciple to work alone in the temple. A child wearing a red bib showed up. Nobody knew where he was from. He helped the young monk work. From then on, whenever the old monk left, the child came to help the young monk work in the temple. As soon as the old one returned, the child disappeared.

As time passed by, the old monk noticed that his disciple looked ruddy and he seemed to be able to finish every job he was assigned. The old monk was bewildered and he thought this was something really strange. He called his disciple over and interrogated him about what was going on. Reluctantly, the young monk told him the truth. The old monk thought, "There are few people living on the mountain, so where is the kid with the red bib from? He must be the legendary 'herb stick' (ginseng)." Therefore, he took a red thread out from his suitcase, threaded it onto a needle, and gave it to the young monk. He ordered the young monk to stick the needle into the kid's red bib if he showed up again.

The next day, the old monk left. The young monk wanted to tell the child what had happened, but he was too scared. He finally stuck the needle into the child 's red bib when the child was hurrying to go home. Early in the morning of the next day the old monk locked his disciple in the temple, and then he picked up his pickaxe and followed the red thread with a all the way down to an old red pine tree. There he found one herb stick. He was extremely excited at this discovery. He lifted the pickaxe to dig out a ginseng child (ginseng that is very old takes the shape of a child).

The old monk took the ginseng child back to the temple and put it in a pot with water. Then he weighted the lid with a stone. Then, he called his disciple to make a fire and cook it. Unfortunately he had to leave again on an urgent summons from his friend which he could not refuse. Before leaving, he told the young monk seriously, "You are not allowed to open the lid before I come back." After the old monk left, the pot unceasingly emitted a fantastic smell.

The young monk was overcome with curiosity. He ignored his master's instructions, moved away the stone, and lifted the lid from the pot. The smell was so good that he tore off a piece of the stick to sample it. It was so sweet and juicy! So, forgetting everything, the young monk ate up all of the ginseng and soup. Just then, the old monk came hurrying back. The disciple was too anxious to do anything so he ran towards the temple. Suddenly he felt his legs lightening, and he flew up into the sky. While the old monk saw this scene, he knew that the disciple had eaten the entire ginseng. He was very sad.

Actually, the child with the red bib was a ginseng root. It was one of a pair of ginseng sticks living under the old red pine tree. Since the old monk took only one of them, the one left behind cried from loneliness. The red pine tree said, "Good boy, don't cry. I will bring you to northeastern China where there are few people. There I can protect you forever." The ginseng stopped crying, and followed the pine tree to flee away. They settled down on Changbai Mountain in northeastern China. Since then, there were no more ginsengs in inland China. Instead, ginseng roots on Changbai Mountain became more and more plentiful.

High flying dreams

Chinese kite

China is the homeland of kites, also known as ‘paper birds’.  Kites have been made in China for more than 2,000 years. It was said that the craftsman Lu Ban "cut bamboo in the shape of a magpie and flew it". This is considered as the predecessor of kites.

Li Ye who lived during the period of the ‘Five Dynasties’, once in his office linked a line to fly a kite as a game.  He also put a bamboo flute at the head of the kite.  When flying in the wind, the flute made the same sounds as the zheng, an ancient musical instrument, and so was called the 'flying zheng.'

In the Song Dynasty, a 'magic fiery crow' appeared.  It was a kite fitted with gunpowder and flew above the camps of the enemies, so as to achieve military objectives.

No wonder the famous British scholar Joseph Needham included kites as one of the major scientific inventions of the Chinese nation.

In 1749, British scientists put a thermometer on each of six flying kites. This was the first time the temperature of the atmosphere at high altitudes had been measured.

In 1877, the Russian naval officer Mozhaiskeasky, for the first time tied himself to a big kite pulled by a troika and flew with the kite for 10 minutes.

In 1893, the U.S. National Weather Service constructed 17 high-flying observatories and flew them in different directions. They successfully measured the weather situations of the relevant areas.

In 1901, when Marconi was sending a telegraph, the transmission antenna was broken by the wind. It suddenly occurred to him that he could replace it by using a kite to lead the line. Eventually the cross-Atlantic wireless telegraph was successfully sent.

The obscenity of public executions - Part 1

In 1946, I had my first experience of watching an execution as a young boy in a public school. The communist regime chose a venue for the execution - the “Daowai” garden, a small local attraction for the public to watch monkeys, black bears, tigers and peacocks as well as to play on a slide, swing and others.  In the post-Spring season, it swarmed with visitors who wanted to enjoy the flowers and animals.

It was inconceivable why a beautiful and tranquil little garden, from which I had derived enormous pleasure, be converted to a public killing field. Executions at an interval of eight or ten days so terrified residents that they dared not walk along the surrounding streets at night, or even in broad daylight.

I was too young to comprehended or even know the words on the billboard erected inside the garden, such as 'identity verification,' 'bound and conveyed to the execution field' and 'summary execution,' but the big ticks in red on the billboard evoked terror. When later we played a childrens game called 'execution' in two groups, a 'secret agent' captured was bound to be executed, accompanied by the loud yelling out of a few clichés on the billboard, since a 'secret agent' was considered equivalent to 'counter-revolutionary'. If the fake execution of the 'agent' did not look real enough, the shots would be repeated. In hindsight, the games are implausible. Shall I attribute this to our childish state of mind or to something else?

It was on a very cold day in late autumn that I witnessed an execution for the first time in my life. Four or five of the condemned, all trussed up, were walking in front of the procession. Two of the elderly even exchanged some whispers. One of them wore a robe, another one an expensive overcoat with a fox-fur collar. A young man, whom I guessed to be in his twenties, was walking close to the side of the street. His gait resembled that of university students, wearing a student cap with the emblem of a technology university and a black cotton-padded Soviet-style jacket.

Members of the death squad were walking behind, each having a shining pistol in hand. Blindly I followed the youth for a few dozen meters along the footpath. I stared at his eyes set in a pale face, blank and expressionless, which seemed to me to be querying where he was heading for. And he seemed to have no idea what was happening to him, neither did I know that he was on his way to execution, or was to be shot dead in a moment. But another young man, of similar age, was following him. The only difference was that the former was heavily bound while the latter was holding a shiny gun. Behind each of the tightly bound prisoners was an indignant and angry man. Why they were so angry was beyond me. Would they really kill these tightly bound people?

Further back was the masses shouting slogans and waving paper flags. Their chief was so energetic that his voice reached almost to a yelling pitch and he held the flag higher. His action was simulated by those surrounding him. However, the people who lagged behind were far less resonant in shouting every time they waved the flags. Some faked a posture while actually lowering their heads momentarily when raising flags and had only weak voices. Apart from the organized procession, there were many residents around – children and adults alike – to watch the execution for fun.

As I scurried along, I heard a burst of gunshots from inside the Garden. On hearing this, men and older boys rushed to the scene to be the first to see the dead. When I edged my way inside, my eyes were greeted by corpses. The youth resembling a university student was lying near the entrance of the Garden, facing down; a large pool of blood was oozing from his head, his cap gone.

I found among the watchers the only son of my landlord, nicknamed 'fatty', who was three or four years my senior, as well as our thirty plus year old night watchman. Always a single man, he scratched a living by watching over thirty households in our compound in return for a small wage that we managed to collect for him. To his credit, he never failed to open the compound gate for later-comers in the midst of a winter night, in defiance of rain, snow or freezing temperatures. In addition, as tap water was unavailable at that time, he was hired to deliver water to many households, particularly those living upstairs unable to access water. The demand was heavy in severe winter season.

The execution field was swarming with onlookers, as if they were having fun in a fair, except for the ghastly atmosphere and the expressions people wore. A few minutes later, an elderly woman arrived, a big gourd in her left hand and a small one in the other. With both hands stained with fresh blood, she solicited the bystanders in a hoarse voice:” Anyone can help to turn it (a dead body) around?” For sure, a brave man volunteered to meet her request. It was the night watchman, I found, and wondered why he should poke his nose into this business and whether anyone dared to hire him in the future.  Then I caught sight of a big hole in the right eye socket of the dead 'university student' and the scalp and flesh in that part were gone – probably under the watchers’ feet at that moment. The woman then began to scoop the brains with the small gourd and poured it into the big one, in a way like spraying spice into a bowl of noddle.  When questioned why, she answered:” my son was frightened into madness when he watched a gun execution last time. I learnt there was a cure for this by drinking soups made of dried human brain powder.” Her words were so impressed on me that I would never forget them in my life.

Terrible scenes

Somehow this episode became a subject at an old schoolmate get-together when I visited my hometown in 1993. I was very surprised to learn that Mr Li Huaiming also witnessed that terrible scene.
“You were there as well?” I asked.
“Yes. Many in our compound went to see it, children as well.” He replied, adding:” the Garden of 20th Street had been turned into an execution ground at the time. People were so scared that few walked along that street even in daylight.”

That night-watchman, I was told, had blood on his fingers after turning the corpse around and was wondering where to clean them when 'Fatty', the son of the landlord, happened to put his head close. So the watchman simply scraped his fingers on Fatty’s face, leaving two scarlet bloody lines from under one of Fatty’s ears across to the chin. He surely meant a joke, but that went too far. Instantly the boy become very pale and ran home. I felt lucky that I was absent, otherwise I might have also got the clean-up on the face and burst into loud cries from fright. That was my first experience of watching brutal executions at the field. The subsequent fear would keep me awake in bed. Even if I fell asleep, I would wake up from frequent nightmares.

After watching numerous killings, I was numbed, feeling no more fear but an empty sympathy for the crying wife and children beside the dead husband or father whom they were collecting. “He has lost his father”, I would say to myself, at the sight of the child of a similar age with mine moaning at the side of a body. “What crime had his father committed?” I would wonder…….  I was deeply struck by the horror that hang over the execution field in my young age, but that proved nothing compared to the atmosphere at the execution spot where Zhang Zhixin was shot dead during the Cultural Revolution.

Why should human compassion lose to numbness? It is a subject most worthy of studying. I would be grateful if some of the younger generation would undertake this theme for research. The last half century saw large-scale political movements rolling out every twenty years when massacres took place and intimidation of the population was rife.It was as if the devil had been let out to torture the good-natured folks.

It happened at the end of March or beginning of April, a season that was warm during the day but freezing at night, when a few of the executed dead came back to life. However, again … … Somehow, I had always been possessed with terrible images about these incidents, so much that I often woke up from nightmares. It was then, I saw a dead old man lying down at the side of a round 50 cm-deep cement pool about 20 to 30 metres further down from the entrance of the Garden. He had not been shot in the head and there was little sign of bleeding. After the executioners left the field, the watchers scrambled to break inside the Garden through a hole on the dilapidated wooden fence, which comprised wooden board measured roughly 10cm by 200cm at an interval of about 10cm. People could peep through the gap into the garden.

As the crowd closed in to look at the dead, a man in his thirties suddenly jumped out and walked directly to the corpse. With just a few strokes, he stripped the dead of his clothing. Apart from the first execution where the dead were lucky enough to be covered in clothing, I saw on late occasions men surging forward to the dead at the gunshots and then stripping the dead bare while kids were rushing to catch up. The dead were completely exposed, like undressed guests in public baths who however still hold a towel to conceal their private parts. On this occasion, the looter was thorough as usual, as he shamelessly pulled down the underpants and the socks as well as other clothes from an old dead man. Then, all of a sudden, the man, believed to have been dead, jerked and sat up, probably on account of severe coldness.  The onlookers were terrified and unprepared.

The looter still stood by with the booty on his shoulders when the old man, naked as if he was in a public baths, knelt down and entreated: ” spare me, spare me, please, please.”  He grabbed his cream colored woollen trousers from the looter and repeated the words piteously. Did he just want the trousers or all of his clothes? Then the looter shot him an angry look, kicked him to the ground. When the old man loosened his grip, the looter ran away.  In the commotion, I heard someone saying “this set of clothes could fetch a fortune.” At that time, the old man kept kowtowing and bowing with both hands folded to everyone around. This put all of us at a loss. I did not know what was in his mind. We were so close to him – less than five meters – we saw him clearly – very thin, a pale face, purple lips shivering. I guess fear and coldness caused him to tremble all the time. Then someone from the crowd said: ”He is doomed anyway. Don’t let him suffer any more.” Bricks and sticks were soon collected. The man, stoned and beaten, finally drew his last breath. I stood at a distance aghast, watching as I clinched my teeth hard trying to stop myself from shaking. Some older boys followed suit to hit his groin with clubs, bricks and stones. His testicles soon turned purple and were swollen to the size of a melon and would become as big as the old man’s head if this continued. Laughter broke out among some onlookers but most remained nervous and silent.

I was a timid boy, yet very keen to watch the process from the beginning to the end. I did not know why. It could be because I lacked the courage to go home alone, so were my other little friends. Why should I follow the procession of execution every time I saw it… … ? I would even regret missing a chance while attending school. Once I heard an account of how the counter-revolutionists Li Jiupeng and Yao Xijiu were treated.  Before being shot dead, they were bound to a tree and whipped with leather strips until the executioners felt their anger had been vindicated. Why we were so keen to watch the scene even though remaining fearful? It was beyond me. Now in hindsight, I believe my psyche was abnormal at that time, and so were all the watchers. The bloodcurdling environment may serve as a start to nurture a mentality of hatred, which, reinforced by every political movement of revenge and violence, eventually caused people to lose the nature of human beings.

But I have never participated in any persecution. With my 'bad' family background, I worried all the time for troubles as light as a tree leave to befall on me. How could I venture to hurt anyone? Moreover, I was not empowered to act, since I was always a target myself in every political campaign. I remember these words I wrote in a letter to a friend:” My parents did not bequeath me any legacy, nor any assets that I might be proud of. But what they did leave me are a gold heart, a resilient temperament and a pair of able hands.” Thanks to God who has given me true love and immense strength, I was able to survive. God also teaches me to treat our fellow humans with love.

Who robbed the dead of their clothes? I heard that families could handle the rest after their beloved ones were shot dead. But if the executed had no family members, the authorities would dump corpses in the mass burying ground near the rubbish dump area known as 'area with no council admin' or 'jian ba wai', 'quan he' . The mass burying ground was the domain of wild dogs and ravens that fed on the corpses. Many a time, rag-pickers saw wild dogs fighting for human flesh with the winner running away with an arm or leg in its mouth.
According to the rumour, this was how the clothes-stripping began. Initially, the thieves were not as brazen and stole the clothes in the burying ground quietly. No one knew exactly who the thieves were – some identified the rag-pickers whereas some believe there were more involved. Why did no one dare to strip the dead on the execution field at the onset? It was hard to ascertain, but there could be several reasons. First, people would rather die in poverty than to resort to that kind of behaviour. Second, it would be a big shame to the thief if identified by those who knew the executed. Who would want to associate with such a name then? Third, the clothing on the corpse would worth much more than that of the rag collected after several days.

It is said rag-pickers had discussed it before they ventured to the burying ground in groups to embolden themselves. After all, it was too wild a place for any individual to visit, not to mention the ravenous wild dogs that were hunting around all the time. It took even more guts to pull clothes from stiff corpses.  Further, such clothes were a great temptation, sometimes it made one’s heart ache to see dogs tear them apart. So better to go there earlier than late, as we often say “there is always someone earlier than you.” 

The above considerations might have precipitated a rush to strip the dead at an earlier stage. Looting at the buryial ground ceased and the looters waited at the execution field instead. Moreover, it was easier to pull off clothes while the body was still warm. Someone even joked that it was better to strip the prisoners before the execution, if it was allowed. Indeed I heard a comment from a non-looter like “it is better to pull off the clothes first, to avoid blood spilling”. I believed that was exactly what was in the looters’ mind. I lamented the degeneration, my heart palpitating in pain. It must be a bad omen to buy the clothes at the fair and be dressed in them.

Photos: Han Couture of China

Award-winning styles at Global Han Couture Design Competition

The final of the Han Couture competition

The Global Han Couture Design Competition ended successfully on October 19, 2008 in New York City. The final competition and award ceremony was held at the Prince George Ballroom. The two thousand Western and Chinese audience members in attendance enjoyed the graceful and simple designs presented by approximately fifty contestants.

The audience was given a taste of genuine, traditional Han couture, including typical clothing styles from the Han Dynasty, Tang Dynasty, Song Dynasty and Ming Dynasty. The competition designs were categorized as casual wear or formal/business wear.

Han couture has two basic styles: A two-piece set consisting of an upper garment with an open cross-collar shirt and skirted lower garment, and a one-piece robe consisting of a long dress. The most striking characteristic of Han couture is its collar, which consists of a right-sided lapel. Traditional Han couture has persisted for thousands of years.

The gold medal winner for casual wear was an elegant design in the Song Dynasty style. It consisted of an upper garment with a short skirt in the style of “jiaoling youren” (wrapping a piece of fabric from the right side across to the left side). It was made of fine linen and silk. The upper garment had a greenish color with an inlaid silver-gray, broad border. The skirt had pink flowers scattered across a lighter green fabric. The costume was elegant, not decadent. When the model walked slowly past the audience with her classic beauty, she appeared as if she had just stepped out of an ancient painting.

The gold medal winner for formal attire was a classic dress that would have been worn in the Tang Dynasty. The upper garment was a sapphire open cross-collar shirt, and the long tulle skirt was embroidered with an orchid design. The waist skirt was tied high, making the model slim and graceful.

Cultural values

The above-mentioned costumes all had in common a dedication to the traditional elements of Han couture: clean color, simple fabric, and simplicity over creativity. These elements comprise the true essence of the Han Couture Competition. On the other hand, you can also see within these works a nobility and grace inherent in the purity and simplicity of the designs. The longer you look at these articles of clothing, the more beautiful you feel they are. The competition truly helped people appreciate China’s splendid culture displayed through Han Couture.

Wearing traditional Han Couture transmits the values of the culture to the person wearing the garments. The person becomes kind, polite, humble and tolerant. This applies to both men and women. Men should be Yang and strong while women are naturally Yin and gentle. When Yin and Yang supplement and complement each other, society is harmonious and cordial.

Han Couture has such a profound inner meaning because Han culture is divinely imparted. The harmony between heaven and humans is reflected in every detail of Han Couture. For example, the back seam in traditional Han Couture is sewn down the middle of the dress. This reflects the value of being upright. A skirt consists of 12 pieces, with each piece indicating a month. Ancient Chinese wore a piece of jade hanging from their belt--it was not just for decoration but was there to remind people to behave properly like pure jade.

Han Couture is also very practical and comfortable. Genuine Han Couture doesn’t have zippers or buttons. Instead, it is fastened using ribbons or ties. For example, the upper garment has an inner tie on the left and an outside tie on the right. The belt for the skirt and trousers is a long, thin cloth. The fabric is made of natural materials, such as silk, cotton, or linen. When you walk slowly wearing Han Couture, you will have a calm and peaceful mind.

Special assignment: making cigars for Chairman Mao

An elderly man, Mr. Guao Rong Fan now aged 82 recalls the time he was assigned to produce cigars for Mao Ze Dong.
His career began making cigars in the late 1950’s at a tobacco factory in Shi-In city. He developed superior skills at making hand-made cigars during this time. One day in autumn 1964, a Communist Party secretary from the factory ordered Mr. Guao Rong Fan and three co workers to pack up their personal belongings and go to Cheng Du city. Thus he had to leave his home and family unsure of what lay ahead. This would have been quite worrying as so many Chinese people were starving and living in terrible conditions.
The four selected workers arrived at the tobacco and drug department located in Cheng Du city. The old man recalls” at beginning we didn’t know what they wanted us to do, then we found out it was to make cigars for General He. We stayed in Cheng Du city for about 4 months, working 8 hours a day, and everybody must produce 100 to 200 cigars per day.”
Not long after they returned to their homes, they were sent back to the Chen Du city factory, this time put to work to make cigars for Chairman Mao Ze Dong.
Mr. Guao Rong Fan gave a detailed insight of the cigar making process. “The techniques required to hand-make cigars are very high. First of all we need to select the best quality tobacco leaves, process them roughly, remove the stems, and then steam the leaves in Vietnamese cinnamon and the top quality of Chinese rice wine, to increase moisture, followed by bleaching with the best jasmine tea. The procedures varied according to different desired flavour. After the cooking, baking and drying process in the sun, the leaves are rolled and finally dried in an oven, there were 10 cigars packaged in each box and then be taken by special delivery to Beijing.”
The old man further explained more requirements in the making of a top quality cigar. Not only was the flavour to be good, but also the ash had to be of a high standard. Snowy white and able to hold a complete shape when the ash falls to the ground, make the optimum cigar.
The security involved for leaders of the Central Committee (the CCP) of the Chinese government is very high. The room where the work was carried out was like a fortress. Steel wire bars around the walls. The finished products were locked up in a large cast iron chest. All the doors and windows were sealed. Thus preventing anyone tampering with the goods.
Even with these tight security measures a huge “breach” was created. Mr. Guao Rong Fan recalls the time he returned from holidays. He took the seals off the door, entered the room and tried to grab the light switch cord, but it had disappeared. Immediately he reported the incident to the senior officials. The security bureau and the district military were called in to investigate. “Think about it, the seals, the doors are all well locked, how can the light switch cord have disappeared, what happened?” After a lot of drama, the security people climbed up to the roof, lifted the tiles and discovered the mice had taken the light switch cord to make a bed for themselves.
Such small mice could create such a security threat to the leaders of the country.
In 1971, Guao Rong Fan, Bing Fu Huang, Yue Rong Jiang were all moved to Beijing from Shi-In.  This cigar making group was called “Group 132” following the cigar no.13 and no.2 favoured by Mao Ze Dong and some officials. They were located in a building opposite Middle-South Ocean (Chong Nan Hai, the head quarters and residence for the high officials of the government.) Here the security was also very tight.  There were electrical wires all over the walls, soldiers guarded the doors.
“Our work was directly supervised by the Administration department of Central Committee; all the raw materials were still provided from Shi-In city. “.  Every month they had to produce 15 to 20 boxes of cigars.
After 1976, “group 132” ceased producing “especially made cigars” all of the three workers, including Mr. Guao Rong Fan became employees of the Beijing Cigarettes Factory.

The mysterious defeat of an Emperor's army

In ancient China, during the years 1643-1645BC, Li Zicheng was famous for his rapid rise from poverty, remarkably, to holding an emperor’s seat, albeit a short lived reign.
But the downfall of Li Zicheng has always remained a mystery.

For more than a century, experts have held different opinions about the possible cause of his demise. Was it through losing popular support, pride, complacency or even corruption? Others suggest a femme fatale as the cause and so on. Yet none of them are convincing. Why? Because all of these explanations cannot explain one problem. Within 40 days of Li Zicheng's powerful army occupying Beijing, the troops seemed to suddenly lose their fighting ability, and collapsed at their first encounter with the Qing Army.

According to Qiku’s analysis, Li Zicheng’s army was highly disciplined and had abundant wealth, about 70 million worth of silver, which is an amount equivalent to that raised by  the Ming Dynasty’s 10-year tax. Even during a time of extreme shortage of military funding, Li Zicheng was able to build his massive army, but why did he lose his fighting prowess after becoming rich? Why could he not organise an adequate defense after occupying Beijing?

Li Zicheng was known for his indomitable character. Several times during his previous campaigns, he was almost completely annihilated, one campaign leaving only 18 of his men standing. On another occasion only just over 50 of his soldiers were left. It can be seen that Li Zicheng staged comebacks again and again, eventually commanding an army of millions and taking down the Ming Dynasty in Beijing.
After arriving in Beijing, what undermined his power? In  papers written by Cao Shuji such as “50 Years of Historical Research Papers”, we may well be able to find the answer. Li Zicheng was not defeated by Qing, but was defeated by the plague which was rampant at that time.
The plague epidemic was rife at the end of the Ming Dynasty, before and after Li Zicheng’s arrival in Beijing. A number of documents record the plague epidemic in and around Beijing at that time.
Plague is a highly infectious disease caused by the Y. pestis bacterium, which spreads mainly among people, fleas and mice. It is characterized by swollen "nodes" and the black colour of the victims corpses. Research shows that when the plague spreads to a new region where the immune resistance of the people is low, it causes high death rates, usually higher than 50%. Documents from 7th century Europe recorded that the first plague epidemic in Europe had a death rate of up to 70%. The plague is a dreadful disease which is highly infectious, making it difficult to control and causing high rates of mortality.
Li Zichengs' army arrived in Beijing in March of the Chinese Lunar Calendar (April 5 of the Gregorian Calendar). Accounts recorded in ”Autumn of Chongzhen 16th year”, the plague appeared in the vicinity of Beijing and due to the low temperature in winter, the spread of it slowed. When spring came in March and the flowers were in bloom, the mice and fleas became active, causing a large-scale outbreak.
Due to the high mortality rate of plague, it is not surprising that the imperial guards of “Chongzhen” lost their strength over a short period of time. Li occupied Beijing without a big bloody battle, although after arriving in Beijing, Li's army quickly became infected by the plague, thus their strength in battle was greatly reduced. Even though the Qing army was a lot smaller it quickly defeated Li’s debilitated army.
The defeated army had become a source of transmission of the plague, according to the documents of “Where the thieves went so went the epidemic”. Although Li was wealthy at the time, and could recruit a large army, the new recruits would be infected and unable to resist the strong army of Qing. The plague spread throughout the barracks and, unable to shake it off for a long time, the spirit of Li and his army suffered a devastating blow, and he lost his position and collapsed after a single defeat.

Because soldiers were living as a group, the plague was devastating for the ancient army. The outbreak of the plague in 14th century Europe had caused 25 million deaths, with the majority of them being soldiers. Li’s 100 million strong army was helpless, and was left with no option but to wait for their demise in the face of the plague.
This poses another major question for that time in history. Why the Qing army did not suffer from this plague?
Wall paintings and accounts from 14th century Europe recorded that only the cavalry escaped the plague. So it has been concluded that the plague was spread by fleas. It is known that fleas are repelled by the odour of horses, and so, the cavalry was not infected. The Qing army was mainly composed of cavalry, so they did not suffer from the plague. Even though they were greatly outnumbered by Li’s army, they were in much better health, and thus in much better condition to fight.
Plague was a new type of infectious disease and was not known to Chinese people at that time, nor was their a readily known treatment. Under such conditions, the demise of the Ming Dynasty and Li Zicheng was inevitable.

Li’s army of millions was alas brought down by a relatively small plague which greatly benefited the Han Man military and played a significant role in the birth of the Qing Dynasty. Thus a great and talented leader of many uprisings was defeated, and at his death, with his last breath, was recorded as sighing “it is heaven who has eliminated me”.

A monk bears no grudges

There was once a young woman from a rich family who fell in love with a peasant. When the peasant learnt of her feelings for him, he was overjoyed and later, as a result of their secret union the girl became pregnant. The young woman's family and the towns people soon came to know what had transpired. The townspeople were outraged and felt that this behavior could not be accepted, as a result it was determined that the young woman be sentenced to death for committing such an unpardonable sin.  The people put her into an animal cage to drown her in the sea.  Before she was to be executed, the townspeople questioned her as to who was responsible for the child.  The girl did not want to give her loved one away; so without thinking, she put the blame on the monk who lived in the temple to the East.

All the people were furious,“how could a monk be so shameless and immoral”, “he seduced an earthly woman”, they quarreled amongst themselves. The townspeople could not turn a blind eye to such depraved behavior. So they went in droves to the temple, holding poles and hoes in hand, without saying a word, they beat the monk. Half dead, the monk asked for the reason. After listening to the story, he knelt down and said in tears “you folks, it’s completely all my wrongdoing. My life is of no value. I beg you to spare the lives of the girl and her child”. Seeing the scene, the people decided to expel the monk from the temple. He was then left homeless. The life of the girl with the unborn baby was spared.

Because she fell pregnant out of wedlock, the girl could only marry the family's servant. With the birth of their son, the family lived together happily.

The poor monk had to wander everywhere. He endured the coldness in winter and the heat in summer. In his old age, he set up a grass-shed next to the temple from where he had been expelled, that was where the monk would stay for the rest of his life.

One day, the girl heard that the old man in the grass shed was the monk who had been expelled. She came with her husband and her son to thank him for saving her life. When she saw the monk, she asked in tears, “can you still recognize me? You have been suffering a miserable life just because of me”. The old monk looked at the girl for a while and said, “I can’t remember what you speak of”. The girl went on to say, “I'll build you a temple to reward you for your grace”. The monk was neither moved nor interested: to this the monk replied, “you and I don’t know each other, please leave me.”