Chapters (52)
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- The Journey West
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- The Journey East
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Author’s Notes
- Acknowledgments
- Resources
- P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
- About the Author
- About the Book
- Read On
- Also by Janie Chang
- About the Publisher
The exodus of Chinese universities and middle schools began in 1937, the official start of the Second Sino-Japanese War, which many also regard as the start of China’s World War II. I’ve been fascinated by this migration ever since my father first recounted his experiences as a liuwang (refugee, nomadic) student, not only for the bold spirit of those who embarked on these journeys, but also for the symbolism of such an effort. By 1941, seventy-seven colleges and universities had relocated to China’s interior. In protecting China’s “last drop of blood,” as one of China’s generals called the students, the Chinese government was safeguarding the nation’s intellectual legacy, so necessary for building the future. But I didn’t know how to even begin weaving a story around such an epic.
Then my friend Ray Wang (who reads Chinese, and alas I do not) told me about a memoir by one of the refugee students. In it was an unforgettable scene: a teacher who walked ahead of his students carrying on his back a chalkboard with the day’s lessons written on it. The image was so powerful and moving. It spoke of reverence for education, a cornerstone of traditional Chinese values, and I knew that if I wrote a story, it would include such a scene.
Then I read Race the Rising Sun, memoirs of Zhejiang University alumni who trekked a thousand miles from coastal Hangzhou to Zunyi in the interior of China. The university also brought with it a treasure from the Qing Dynasty: a seventy-thousand-volume encyclopedia of Chinese literature known as the Siku Quanshu. Zhejiang University moved the books inland to safety by boat and automobile, by train and truck, and on the backs of students. Stored in caves outside the town of Guiyang in Guizhou Province, the encyclopedia survived the war in good condition under the care of two university servants who stayed behind in the caves. This was the thread I needed to pull the story together.
In the novel, the Siku Quanshu became the Jingtai Encyclopedia and its only surviving volumes the Library of Legends, which traveled across China awakening the supernatural beings described in their pages. For anyone interested in reading Professor Kang’s (fictional) pamphlet on the Library and how it survived the centuries, please see my website www.janiechang.com. Click on the Books tab, where I stash bonus materials for each novel, and see what’s available for The Library of Legends.
Minghua University is fictional, but my father did attend university in Nanking and walked all the way to Chongqing when the school had to evacuate. The majority of liuwang students miraculously reached their destinations, although many were malnourished by then and suffered a range of illnesses from eye infections to malaria.