[Pearls Lost in the Sea of Art]Three Thousand Disciples Bloom Like Peach Blossoms, All Nurtured by the Gentle Spring Breeze

By Yang YanboPostscript —

Written after the publication of the art anthology of Liang Shaohang’s works

After the publication of “The First Volume of the Gudao Hall Art Collection – Liang Shaohang” in Australia, the response was overwhelming, especially from Taiwan and Vietnam. Former students of Master Liang scattered across the world — my senior fellow disciples — fervently reached out to request copies of the book. I was touched by their devotion and reverence for our teacher, and could hardly turn them down.

However, due to my own limited means, I had already donated most of the works in the collection to collectors in Australia, China, and Vietnam.

Life is full of mysterious coincidences and karmic ties. That these treasured works found homes with compassionate collectors is indeed a blessing. And yet — it pained me that, as one of Master Liang’s disciples, I did not keep a single piece of his work for myself.

In early 2008, I traveled alone to Adelaide, South Australia. While dining in Chinatown, I struck up a conversation with a woman seated next to me, who introduced herself as "Wei Hua." Upon exchanging business cards, we discovered a shared passion for collecting antiquities and artworks. She promised to let me host her for a meal if she ever visited Melbourne.

A month later, she arrived in Melbourne with a fellow collector. They invited me to meet at their hotel, where they displayed a few artworks and two antique Han pottery pieces for our viewing and potential purchase. Among the paintings was a work I had not laid eyes on in over forty years — a piece by Master Liang Shaohang himself. As the scroll gradually unfurled before me, my heart surged with emotion and tears welled up in my eyes.

This piece was created by Master Liang in 1969 (Year of the Rooster), and was donated to a charity auction for the “Fundraising Exhibition for the Expansion of the Chong Zheng Hospital in Cholon, Vietnam.” The calligraphy on the painting reads:

“The tiger, though fierce by nature, still bears deep maternal love.Humans, as the most sentient of all beings, how can we betray our parents’ hearts?”— Painted in the early autumn of the Year of the Rooster at Dongfang Art Garden, by Shaohang”

[A Wave of Grief]

During the 1967 Lunar New Year (Year of the Monkey), on the second day of the new year, North Vietnamese communist forces launched a full-scale invasion of South Vietnam. Backed by Chairman Mao Zedong’s “People’s War” strategy, Ho Chi Minh’s troops engaged in large-scale assaults and terror tactics, slaughtering countless unarmed civilians.

Saigon (then capital) and Cholon (the largest Chinese district in Vietnam, with over 6 million residents at the time) were engulfed in chaos. I had just started junior high at Sui Cheng (later renamed Yuexiu Middle School). My parents, preparing for the worst, instructed me — their eldest son — on how to escape with my younger siblings if war reached our doorstep. I was to remember our birth dates, family origins, and prepare for survival.

The war raged just four to five kilometers outside the capital for nearly nine months. Had the enemy advanced one more kilometer, Saigon would have fallen. Thanks to the joint efforts of the U.S. and South Vietnamese forces, the invasion was ultimately repelled.

Only around November of that year were we allowed to return to our war-torn school, now renamed Yuexiu. The campus was filled with refugees — families using straw mats as makeshift beds on playgrounds, gardens, and corridors. The tragedy of war was gut-wrenching. It was my first direct encounter with human suffering.

Wei Hua, the woman I met, had joined a communist underground organization of ethnic Chinese in South Vietnam, known as the “Chinese Union” or “Hua Yun,” during that chaotic time. Her home was located directly below Master Liang’s residence and art school, the Dongfang Art Garden, in Yuqing Lane, Ba Bai Market.

Her family, especially her elder brother, owned many of Master Liang’s early works. During the “Spring War of 1967,” she fled to Cambodia and the Vietnam border to continue what she called a “holy war against capitalism and imperialism.”

As I gazed upon Master Liang’s painting, memories poured back:— My father, Yang Mingshu, suddenly visiting Dongfang Art Garden to check on my progress.— My mother, young and graceful, working hard at the paper-cutting machine, sweat on her brow.— Classmates laughing and joking while sketching at our desks.— Senior and junior disciples collaborating on festive New Year artworks — all playing like a vivid documentary in my mind.

Wei Hua shared that after the fall of Saigon on April 30, 1975, she endured unspeakable hardship. From Phnom Penh, Cambodia — a city where over six million lives were lost — she walked for nearly two months to return to Saigon. Her parents had died from the trauma of war. Upon reuniting, her brother slapped her, urging her to wake up and stop being deceived by communist lies. Their entire family then joined the countless refugees fleeing by sea, bringing along what valuables they could — including art, antiques, and gold. That is how Master Liang’s painting was preserved and eventually made its way to Australia.

Wei Hua, moved by my plea, parted with the painting despite its deeply emotional significance. She asked that if the work were ever included in a national collection or public exhibition, I would invite her to attend the opening and share her own blood-and-tears account of the story behind it.

So many meaningful actions in life depend on people of conscience to promote and retell. We must think independently, rather than blindly echoing others.

As the well-known Taiwanese independence advocate Chen Chu once said,"There is more to life than politics — we need humanity too. How much politics is there to go around, anyway?"And yet, how many among us are not exploited by political clowns? Used and sacrificed for their pursuit of fame, fortune, and power?

— Written by Yang Yanbo at Gudao Hall, Australia, September 2009 (Year of the Ox)