Before the Story
In 2020, Liu Ch’angyu [1] , one of the most celebrated Peking Opera performers of her generation, gave this eulogy at the funeral of Chien Haoliang, a fellow opera artist. During the 1960s and 1970s, Liu had become estranged from Chien, misunderstanding his protective silence as disapproval or opposition. For decades, she did not yet see the quiet risks he had taken to shield her from political harm. Only much later in life did she come to understand his intentions, and the cost of his restraint. Her belated recognition mirrors the way some legacies must wait decades to be understood:
“There is one thing I would like to mention in particular: I am thankful to him. He was my great benefactor. During that very special time, he protected me in a very special way. At the time, I didn’t understand it. I truly didn’t understand it. He protected me. I didn’t have sharp political instincts, not like he did. He protected me in another way, and because of that, I did not embark on the wrong path. That’s why I have the life I do today.
It’s been a long process of awakening. Back then, I couldn’t understand that. I didn’t recognize the burden he bore for my sake. Without his protection, I wouldn’t have the life I have now.
So this is a gratitude that came late, but it comes from my heart. I thank this elder brother with all I have. In that era, he protected me.
My gratitude knows no end.
Some people wonder, ‘Why has Liu Ch’angyu made such a 180-degree turn?’
I’d say: it comes from the heart. I am grateful. I am grateful. I am grateful to this elder brother. Truly, I… I’m overwhelmed. I arrived late today. They said they’d send a car for me. I said, ‘If I fail to come here today, I would carry this sense of guilt for the rest of my life.’”
— Liu Ch’angyu, eulogy for Chien Haoliang
[1] In Chinese: 劉長瑜