🌿 Folk Prescriptions

Bing Xin was a world-renowned female writer. Born in 1900, she was a contemporary of the 20th century. She entered the literary world in 1919 and remained dedicated to writing for over 70 years, producing countless works and achieving remarkable success. She is a major figure in modern Chinese literature, making outstanding contributions to children’s literature. In her later years, she created a new peak in her literary career. 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. 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 patriotic sentiments from childhood.
Bing Xin became a literary “evergreen tree” largely because she retained a forever-young childlike heart. Throughout her life, she devoted herself entirely to children’s literature. She once said: "I have chosen my mission: to strive for the creation of children’s literature. I have always loved children, enjoyed depicting bright things, and favored clear, fresh language." Living with children, breathing with them, she preserved a perpetually youthful heart. Because her heart remained childlike, she loved all small lives and animals—especially cats. Her home housed a Persian cat. This large, sturdy cat had a luxuriant white coat, fluffy like clouds, soft like silk. Its movements were agile and nimble, resembling a champion in hurdle racing. Yet when it played affectionately in front of 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: "Good health preservers nurture the inside, poor health preservers nurture the outside." This "inner cultivation" kept her always 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-preserving methods—just being more open-minded, never quarreling 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 vases. When asked why she favored roses so much, she answered: "Because they have hard thorns—though fragrant, their unique character cannot be hidden."
Bing Xin’s long life and good health were also due to her 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 a government official." Then Bing Xin interjected: "I won’t marry someone from the literary circle. Literary people are mostly flirtatious—good people, fine friends—but I wouldn’t marry one." Later, she indeed married Wu Wenzao, a sociologist outside the literary world. The couple deeply understood each other, sharing a profound bond. Whether in prosperity or adversity, they supported each other through thick and thin. In the early 1970s, they jointly undertook translating the monumental work "Outline of World History," millions of words painstakingly translated together in a small room. Thus, when asked about her health-preserving methods, Bing Xin spoke 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 led to my longevity."
Bing Xin faced death with equanimity in her later years, displaying fearless, elegant humor. She said: "Death and life are ordinary matters, inevitable, but spirit endures forever." Though unwell, she invited a qigong master to perform healing exercises. After a while, 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 invincible to blades and bullets." Later, she joked: "I don’t believe in Buddha, gods, or God—I only believe in myself." Though she lived reclusively, avoiding worldly noise, she remained deeply connected to China and its people. When asked what she hated most in life, she replied: "The corruption and arrogance of officials." She once quipped: "I have nothing—no power to seize, no office to dismiss." At age 95, she inscribed a message for "Women’s World," encouraging women to become "self-loving, self-respecting, self-reliant, and self-strengthening women of the new era." Her words brimmed with the bold spirit of a centenarian.