The Fable of the Footless Man
Excerpt from Lost in the Long March
by Michael X. Wang
Thousands of years ago, before the time of emperors, China was divided into many city-states. The wealthy curried favor from local kings by offering gifts. Nobles gave a portion of their harvest. Intellectuals supplied the bounty of military advice or worldly philosophy. Those with neither land nor education had one remaining way to gain favor: possessing something the king personally desired. There were stories of how a blacksmith became a general after he had smelt the king’s sharpest blade; of how a cowherd became a magistrate after the king had wed his daughter; of how a weaver became a landowner after he had sewed the king’s finest gown.
Such was the ambition of a lucky jade miner from Hubei. He had spent decades in the quarries without finding anything substantial, and then on his forty-fourth birthday he struck a prize so large and so fine that only a king could afford it. He shaped it into a lustrous cabbage, smoothing it until the leaves bloomed symmetrically on all sides. Holding it up to the sun, he felt pride when his work lit up like a lantern. It was rumored that, because of its purity, the jade cabbage could capture the light and glow even at night.
Confident in its worth, the miner took his prize to the King of Zhou, the most powerful king in the land. He lay the piece at the foot of the throne, his head bowed until the king’s advisor finished examining it. The advisor, a sycophant easy to jealousy, held the jade cabbage between his long flowing sleeves, and worried that such an awe-inspiring object might elevate the miner to a position above even his own.
“Nothing but a chunk of limestone,” he yelled up to the king, who was sitting half-asleep behind a silken veil, “dressed up to look like treasure. The thing is worthless.”
“Fine, fine,” the king called down. “Get the man out of my sight.”
“Your majesty,” the miner pleaded. “Ask any reputable jeweler. They will confirm the authenticity. I come bearing this gift as your honest servant. Why would I—”
“Might I suggest a punishment.” The advisor grinned at the miner. “One fit for a liar.”
“Fine, fine,” the king called down. “Chop off his right foot, so he will be slower and lie to less people.”
And thus the miner lost one of his feet.
On crutches, though still confident of the worth of his work, he took his prize to the King of Zheng, the second most powerful king. Again he lay the piece at the foot of the throne, his head bowed until the jade was examined. This time, the king himself picked up the object, and though he liked its shape—its craftsmanship—he was worried about its origins.
“I have heard another jade cabbage had come before the King of Zhou. Is this the same one?” he asked the miner.
The miner nodded. “The King of Zhou does not have as keen an eye as you do, my lord. He is not worthy of my prize.”
“I heard a different story. I heard that he rejected the piece because it was nothing more than limestone.” The king threw the jade cabbage into the miner’s lap. “You bring me a gift that my rival has rejected. Are you suggesting that I should accept it because I am lesser than him, that the Kingdom of Zheng is second to Zhou? If the object is as magnificent as you say it is, why not bring it to me first?”
“Sire,” the miner pleaded, “I mean no disrespect. I was—”
“Guards!” the king called. “Get this man out of my sight. Chop off his other foot so that he knows the meaning of loyalty!”
And thus the miner lost his other foot.
With both feet gone, the miner became a beggar.
Years later, on the streets of his hometown, a wandering laborer approached the miner that became a beggar. The laborer glanced at the pile of knife-coins on the ground, and then at the jade cabbage in the beggar’s arm. By this point, the beggar had become an old man. His hair was white, he had grown a gray beard, and he covered his legs with a brown cloth.
“What makes your life so pathetic that I should give you my hard-earned money?” the laborer asked the beggar.
The beggar uncovered his right leg and showed his missing foot. “I tried giving this jade cabbage to the King of Zhou. He refused it, and chopped off my right foot.”
“So?” The laborer wasn’t impressed. “Many people have lost their right foot. What makes you so special?”
The beggar uncovered his other leg and showed that both his feet were missing. “Then I tried giving this jade cabbage to the King of Zheng. He again refused it, and chopped off my other foot.”
“So?” The laborer, again, wasn’t impressed. “Many people have lost both their feet. I ask a second time: Why should I mourn for someone with missing feet?”
The beggar shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I mourn not for my missing feet. I mourn because no one will accept this jade cabbage, my life’s work.”
Born in China's mountainous interior, Michael X. Wang immigrated to the United States when he was six. He is the author of the story collection Further News of Defeat, which won the PEN/Bingham Prize. His stories can be found in The New England Review, Greensboro Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Cha, Witness, and elsewhere. His novel about the Chinese Communist Revolution is forthcoming from The Overlook Press. Find him @MichaelXWang3 and michaelxwang.com.
