In the state of Chu, the minister Qu Yuan had long warned against the treachery of King Zhaoxiang of Qin. He repeatedly urged King Huai of Chu to ally with Qi against Qin. But King Huai, swayed by the likes of Jin Shang (accepted bribes from Zhang Yi, prime minister of Qin) and Gongzi Lan (Prince Lan or Zilan), ignored his advice – and lost not only his throne but also his life.
When King Qingxiang of Chu ascended the throne, he not only failed to punish Jin Shang and Gongzi Lan but promoted them. Witnessing their shortsightedness and cowardice, Qu Yuan’s heart was filled with sorrow. He foresaw that such appeasement would lead Chu straight into Qin’s jaws.
The lament of a loyal minister
Qu Yuan, burdened with plans for strengthening Chu, found himself increasingly isolated. His attempts to rally support for a united front against Qin were thwarted by court intrigues. He saw no choice but to resign – yet could not bear to abandon his homeland in its darkest hour.
He implored King Qingxiang to gather talents, distance himself from sycophants, and strengthen the army. But Jin Shang and Gongzi Lan feared Qu Yuan’s influence. They poisoned the king’s ear with tales of disloyalty, accusing him of undermining royal authority.
One day, Jin Shang whispered to King Qingxiang:
“Your Majesty, haven’t you heard how Qu Yuan criticizes you? He says your failure to avenge your father’s death will doom Chu!”
Furious, King Qingxiang banished Qu Yuan to Xiangnan (around Dongting Lake in modern Hunan), stripping him of all titles.
Despair by the Waterside
Banished, Qu Yuan’s anguish knew no bounds. He wandered along the shores of Dongting Lake and the banks of the Miluo River (near modern Xiangyin, Hunan), composing mournful poems. His grief was palpable; his body grew gaunt, his face pale.
His sister, Qu Xu, traveled far to comfort him. Seeing her brother’s haggard appearance, she wept:
“Brother, why must you suffer so? Everyone knows you are loyal. If the king won’t listen, it is his fault, not yours.”
Qu Yuan replied bitterly:
“I am not mourning my fate, but the ruin of Chu. My heart bleeds for our nation.”
Qu Xu advised patience, suggesting that one day the king might see reason. But Qu Yuan felt powerless, unable to protect his beloved country.
Conversations with a fisherman
During his exile, Qu Yuan befriended a local fisherman known simply as “the Fisher”. Admiring Qu Yuan’s wisdom yet troubled by his melancholy, the Fisher asked:
“How did you end up here?”
Qu Yuan lamented:
“The world is corrupt, and I alone remain pure. All are drunk, and I alone am sober. Hence, I am cast aside.”
The Fisher gently chided:
“If you find the world dirty, why not adapt? Why stay aloof when joining others could bring change?”
But Qu Yuan refused to compromise:
“Can good be bad, or right be wrong? Can phoenixes become crows?”
The Fisher smiled:
“Perhaps you seek clarity where none exists. Better to live quietly, free from strife.”
Qu Yuan disagreed, choosing instead to write poetry, expressing his sorrow and ideals through verses like the famous “Li Sao”.
The final descent
Years passed without word from the king. Qu Yuan’s dreams of returning to Yingdu (Ying, Chu’s capital) remained unfulfilled. Friends suggested he leave Chu for another kingdom, where his talents would be appreciated. But Qu Yuan’s loyalty was unwavering:
“A bird returns to its nest when it grows weary, a fox faces its hill where it lived when it dies. How can I forsake my homeland?”
As Chu weakened, Qu Yuan’s despair deepened. His poetry, later known as “Chuci” or “Songs of Chu,” became a testament to his love for Chu and his frustration with its decline.
The leap into eternity
In 278 BCE, General Bai Qi of Qin captured Yingdu. Upon hearing this news, Qu Yuan wept uncontrollably. At over sixty years old, he realized Chu’s fate was sealed. Unable to bear witnessing its destruction, on the 5th day of the 5th lunar month, he clasped a stone and plunged into the Miluo River.
Villagers, upon learning of his suicide, raced in boats to save him. Though they searched desperately, Qu Yuan was gone. In his memory, they threw rice wrapped in bamboo leaves into the river, hoping to feed his spirit.
Thus began the tradition of Dragon Boat Festival (Duanwu), commemorating Qu Yuan’s sacrifice. Today, eating Zongzi (sticky rice dumplings) and racing dragon boats are customs celebrated across China, honoring the patriot who loved his country too much to live without it.
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