🌿 Folk Prescriptions

Bing Xin was a world-renowned female writer of modern China. Born in 1900, she was a contemporary of the 20th century. She entered the literary world in 1919 and remained prolific for over seventy years, producing an extensive body of work and achieving remarkable success. She was a major figure in modern Chinese literature, made outstanding contributions to the development of children’s literature, and created a new peak in her literary career in old age. She passed away peacefully on February 25, 1999.
Bing Xin, originally named Xie Wanying, used pen names such as Miss Bing Xin and Mr. Bing Xin. She was from Changle, Fujian Province. Her father, Xie Baozhang, was a patriotic officer who participated in the Battle of the Yalu River during the First Sino-Japanese War. Bing Xin was deeply influenced by patriotism from childhood.
Bing Xin became a literary "evergreen tree" largely because she possessed an eternally youthful childlike heart. Throughout her life, she dedicated herself to children’s literature, stating: "I have chosen my work—I am determined to contribute to creating children’s literature. I have always loved children, liked depicting bright things, and preferred clear, fresh language." She spent her life with children, sharing their breath and spirit, thus maintaining a perpetually young heart. Because her childlike innocence never faded, she loved all small creatures and animals, especially cats. Her home housed a Persian cat—large and sturdy, with lustrous white fur like clouds, soft as silk. Its movements were agile and nimble, resembling a champion in hurdle racing. Yet when it played affectionately before Bing Xin, it appeared exceptionally gentle and playful, often making her laugh heartily like a child.
Bing Xin once said: "There is no magic pill for health preservation; the key is maintaining optimism and good cultivation." She was calm by nature, humble in demeanor, believing: "Those who truly preserve health nurture the inside, while those who do not nurture the outside." This "inner cultivation" kept her perpetually in a peaceful, optimistic, and resolute state. In her later years, when repeatedly asked about her longevity secrets, she replied: "I truly have no special health preservation methods—just being more open-minded, never arguing with anyone. Every day of life is new. Decades ago, I said: life begins at eighty." She loved roses; her home always had fresh roses in a vase. When asked why she favored roses so much, she answered: "Because they have sharp thorns—their unique character shines through despite their fragrant scent."
Bing Xin’s health and longevity also stemmed from a loving marital relationship. When young, her parents chatted; her mother said, "My daughter won’t marry a sailor"; her father said, "My daughter won’t marry an official." Bing Xin interjected: "I won’t marry someone from the literary world. Literary people are usually flirtatious—good friends, but I wouldn’t marry one." Later, she married Wu Wenzao, a sociologist outside the literary circle. The couple deeply understood each other, sharing a strong bond, supporting each other through both prosperity and adversity. In the early 1970s, they jointly undertook translating the monumental work "A History of the World," a manuscript of millions of characters painstakingly translated word by word in their small room. Thus, when asked about her health preservation secrets, Bing Xin said with deep emotion: "I don’t rely on nutrition or tonics; instead, it’s my loving marriage, family harmony, contentment, and constant smiling while writing that has brought me longevity."
Bing Xin faced death with equanimity in her later years, displaying fearless wisdom and humorous grace. She said: "Death and life are ordinary matters, inevitable, but spirit cannot be destroyed—it remains forever." Though her health was poor, when a qigong master came to perform healing, after a few minutes, the master asked if she felt cold. She replied, "Not cold." After another round, he asked if she felt hot. She said, "Not hot." Finally, she told the master: "Stop, I’m invulnerable to anything." Later, she told others: "I don’t believe in Buddha, gods, or God—I only believe in myself." Though she lived reclusively, avoiding worldly noise, her heart remained connected to China and the people. When asked what she hated most in life, she replied: "The corruption and arrogance of officials." She once joked: "I have nothing—nothing can be taken from me, no office to remove." At age 95, she inscribed words for "Women’s World," encouraging women to become "self-loving, self-respecting, self-reliant, and striving tirelessly—new women of the era," radiating the bold spirit of a century-old elder.