My heart has always remained in Jiangdong. I spent my life traversing thousands of rivers and mountains, seeking a place to call home and serving the Sun family kings, all for the sake of bringing peace to the region. As an old minister and a loyal general, I believed that if I could serve the king in Jiangdong, the region would surely flourish like a long-flowing spring, pacifying local unrest and providing the people with a sense of security.
I was born in a small village near Lin'an during an era of great turmoil. In those days, the people had no grand ambitions; they simply wished to live their daily lives in peace. Those who could learn martial arts or possessed talent for combat would join the military to secure a position. Those who could follow strategists or scholars would learn the arts of leading troops and military tactics.
Navigating the Turbulence of a Fractured Era
Growing up in that small village, I witnessed the rise of insurgent armies everywhere. The instability of the Han dynasty was presented to us in the most direct and brutal way. In this region, far from the imperial capital, the central government's policies could hardly address local needs. Everything depended on whether the local governor was a virtuous official, a corrupt one, or simply a minor official powerless to act in such a chaotic age.
This era demanded immense boldness to withstand the tests of time. To care for the people, one had to be self-reliant when the central government could offer no aid. We had to stabilise the hearts of the people, defend our borders, and pacify local militias. Ultimately, it was all to ensure the people could live in peace. Having risen from the grassroots, I understood the basic needs of the civilians. I understood the trade-offs and strategies required to pacify a region. I knew I was not the type to slaughter indiscriminately, but I was well-versed in the strategies of governance and pacification, having once been on both sides—the one being pacified and the one doing the pacifying.
The Noble Aspirations of the Sun Dynasty
During my time with the volunteer militia, I met the Governor of Changsha, Sun Jian. He understood the suffering of the local people and the desperation of those who had nowhere to turn. Instead of resorting to brute force, he sought to incorporate and naturalise the militia, giving them formal roles. Though the pay was modest, they became official government militia, helping to pacify local uprisings. As members of this militia, we deeply understood the hardships of the people. We continued to integrate and plan, giving everyone a home and allowing those who wished to return to a stable life to leave the army. As our manpower grew, so did our flexibility in operations.
Jiangdong is a very fertile region if managed well. With no shortage of grain, many insurgent armies were willing to surrender. Aside from a few who wished to declare themselves kings in the chaos, many joined Sun Jian's command. I was one of them. From then on, I followed Sun Jian, responsible for maintaining stability within Jiangdong. I began by managing small towns around Changsha and was entrusted with some military authority. When we reached a certain scale, I began to believe that the Eastern Wu army might truly have a chance to replace the existing Han house and become the regime that would revive China. I could see that Sun Jian shared this vision, but unfortunately, he died so young, passing away before he could see the development of Eastern Wu. I felt a deep sense of regret for him, but I did not stop. I continued to hold my post because I saw hope in his successor, Sun Ce.
The Weight of Command and the Cost of Peace
Sun Ce's ambitions were influenced by his father, his ministers, and the local people. His goal was clear: to revive China and use the management style of the Eastern Wu army to ensure the people could live in peace, free from the need for further uprisings. Having been part of an insurgent army, I knew the suffering of the people, and thus I knew how to think for them.
I followed Sun Ce in continuous campaigns, hoping to realise an empire where the people could feel secure. I did not know if I would see the unification of China in my lifetime, but I believed I could bring stability to Jiangdong first. This is why I remained steadfast in following my lords. I followed the young master into battle, and as is well known, fighting on the front lines was my duty. However, I was not one to slaughter the innocent. I knew very well that regardless of which side they were on, the enemies were also civilians—most were living in hardship and were forced onto the battlefield. Who would choose to hold a blade if they could hold a farming tool? Killing on the battlefield was merely a temporary measure, for I believed in the far-sightedness and grand ambitions of the Sun family. If not for the end of the Han dynasty, they would surely have been the finest governors, ensuring the people had enough to eat and wear. Unfortunately, in a chaotic world, governance is but empty talk until the war is pacified.
Shadows of the Red Cliffs and the Echoes of Remorse
Shortly after helping Sun Ce take Jiangdong, he also died so young in battle. This was not unexpected; in an era of war, forty or fifty was considered a very advanced age. I continued to assist the next successor, Sun Quan, who also cared deeply for the people and hoped for peace. Our alliance with Shu Han was intended to accelerate peace and stability for the people. In our battles against Cao Wei, I knew that all three kingdoms sought local peace, but their ambitions differed. To seize the world and become the emperor of China, one inevitably had to wage more wars. The Battle of Red Cliffs was one such instance.
I still hesitate today, wondering if we should have used the fire attack. Strategically, it was a brilliant move with miraculous effects, but the countless deaths and injuries make me hesitate. Facing the fierce Wei army, without a clever strategy, we would have been defeated. This was no longer a matter of pacifying local rebels; it was a war between two nations. I felt for the victory of Eastern Wu, but I also felt remorse for the countless lives lost.
A Vigil Through the Centuries of Change
In my military career, I had to fulfil my duties clearly. I strove to balance kindness and authority, hoping the people would not resist. If they surrendered, there would be no need for bloodshed. Looking back on my life, I achieved many military successes for Eastern Wu, but my true achievement was the stable life of the people in each region. In my later years, I still did my best to pacify border rebellions and protect this hard-won stability. After I died, I knew I had created much , but perhaps because my intention was not solely for the sake of hegemony, I entered the space of the Eastern Wu banners, continuing to guard the peace and stability of the entire region. Although it did not last long, and Eastern Wu eventually fell, I felt great emotion but was powerless to change it. When the last flag symbolising the Eastern Wu regime was burned to ashes, I moved into the space of the guardian spirits of the Jiangdong region, continuing to watch over the people of this land.
As dynasties changed, the most painful times for the people were the transitions. I always tried to guide the people and the authorities. I did not favour one side; my wish was for a quick transfer of power to reduce the suffering and death of the people. Thus, I spent eighteen hundred years in that space, where there was truly more time of war than peace. This is the suffering of the Chinese people and the collective karma of this land.
to the Golden Light of
Recently, a vast golden light shone down upon the Jiangdong region. I knew this was my opportunity for transformation. As a guardian spirit of Jiangdong, my sensitivity told me that the key to saving the region lay within this golden light. I followed the light to a place of silent radiance: the Hsiang Kuang Buddhist Centre in Goombungee, Toowoomba, Queensland, Australia—the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I arrived here along with many other spirits from the Jiangdong region. There is no war here; all sentient beings are at peace and find stability. I immediately understood that this is the method for the people of Jiangdong—and indeed, all of China and the world—to live and work in peace.
I am learning in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss with my sensitivity. I understand that this world of stability and peace is constructed through Amitabha Buddha and the chanting of the Buddha-name, Namo Amituofo. In other words, any person or spirit, anywhere, can attain stability and peace and enter this pure land by following Amitabha Buddha and chanting this name. Huang Gai is astonished by this method, but seeing my lords, the young masters, and many old friends and those connected by karmic affinity already here, I realise they must have discovered this great before me. I will continue to practise, hoping that one day I can help the people of Jiangdong and China. I am grateful to Amitabha Buddha and Practitioner Su for giving me this opportunity to know the great Dharma.
Huang Gai
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