Meeting with Zhang Xiangqian
This record is something I've long owed to myself but have yet to write. It's something that's always been on my mind. I've never been able to describe it honestly—not just because the past month has been filled with wrapping up earlier tasks, but also because my brief interactions with this person left a deep impact on me. I've been reflecting on how to help this farmer-scientist. After much thought, I realize that, given my current abilities, I should focus on doing practical and actionable things. So, let me briefly and truthfully record this meeting.
At the end of October, by chance, I came across a video introduction of Teacher Zhang Xiangqian (hereinafter referred to as "Brother Qian"). At that moment, I felt compelled to reach out to him. I added him on WeChat, and my request was instantly approved. After explaining my intentions, Brother Qian sent me all of his publications in one go. I briefly flipped through them; each book contained over a hundred thousand words, which was quite surprising.
At that time, I was preparing to move from Fuzhou to Qufu. Since the entire journey was 1,400 kilometers and an exhausting electric vehicle drive, the first night required a stop for rest. I checked the map and saw two possible routes: one via Nanjing (with perhaps some time to visit Niushoushan and Qixia Temple if possible), and the other via Hefei in Anhui, which had no major tourist attractions. While I was undecided about which route to take, I learned that Brother Qian was in Hefei. I asked if it would be convenient to visit him, and he said he had a cold and a hoarse voice, so it could be a few days later. I assured him that this trip was not an interview but simply to meet and see if there was any way I could assist him. He then sent me an address, and to my surprise, it was right on my way. Everything seemed to be arranged in the best possible way.
At the time, as I drove north, I felt a certain melancholy akin to Wang Yangming's exile to Longchang, Guizhou. I deliberately chose a water-view hostel in the ancient town of Sanhe, near Brother Qian's home. Sanhe Ancient Town is the only 5A scenic spot in Hefei, with its cobblestone streets, old buildings, pagodas, city walls, and small bridges over flowing water. After driving over 1,000 kilometers that day, I was completely refreshed by such a picturesque setting. In sharp contrast, the town was surprisingly empty of tourists. We arrived around 6 p.m., and most shops in the town were closed. Only a few restaurants had sellers outside trying to attract customers. I peeked into these small restaurants and saw no customers eating, which immediately killed my desire to enter. So, I decided to try some local Hefei snacks. There was a short street of snacks in the ancient town, but to my surprise, the entire street sold only one kind of snack: stinky tofu. Is this really a snack street? I couldn't help but sigh about the economic downturn. Even the scenic area was nearly deserted, and as I traveled further north, I noticed the economic situation seemed to worsen compared to the southern regions.
The next day, October 30th, I got up early to charge the car at the edge of the ancient town. After a simple breakfast, we arrived at the location that Brother Qian had given. Although Qian also runs a small shop, it's so small that it's not listed on the map, so he gave me the location of an auto repair shop nearby as a reference. When I asked around on the street, a young man at the repair shop pointed to a storefront not far away and said, "It's right there. A lot of people come looking for him, haha!"
Although it could be considered a standard small shop, the storefront only opened about two-thirds, making it hard to tell whether it was a retail shop or a repair shop. On the left, there were everyday items on the shelves, and on the right, disorganized repair tools. The only things for sale seemed to be large bottles of water without any labels (which I later learned were sent by his online supporters). A washing basin was outside the shop, and inside, there was a rudimentary stove at the farthest end of the shop. Above the gas cylinder, there hung a red banner that read, "Persist in exploring and innovating tirelessly." In the small door next to this, which was filled with red banners, I immediately spotted Qian's figure. This was his bedroom, office, and meeting room all in one.
Brother Qian is not talkative and rarely smiles. He speaks with a strong Hefei accent, and there was in fact nowhere to sit in this small room. He first took us to his laboratory (which was next door to the shop that had transformed into a lab, and two workers were building a front wall). He skillfully introduced the experimental results of his “unified field theory”.
Having been accustomed to high-end laboratories filled with sophisticated and expensive equipment, I couldn't believe my eyes. The experimental tools here were all "makeshift" devices, with strings of glass and other materials hanging from wooden rods and beams, suspended vertically in the center of a gravity field generator. The bricks used to fix magnets seemed to be the same ones used to build the wall. The rest of the room was filled with discarded, random pieces of equipment.
Brother Qian gestured to turn on the power, and the coil's magnetic field generated a gravity field, which caused the suspended objects to rotate. Although I only partially understood and was quite confused, it was clear that Qian had a strong and unwavering confidence in his experimental results, creating a powerful and sharp contrast with the simplicity of this so-called "laboratory".
In the laboratory, there were workers doing masonry, and the environment was noisy. Brother Qian then took us to his bedroom. His desk was a low, small iron table, with an old, heavy computer monitor. Because the table was too small, he had "smartly" carved a groove in the wall so that the monitor could be hidden inside, saving space on the desk. The screen was surrounded by a wooden frame, which was taped to the monitor. He explained that his eyesight wasn't good, so this was his way of creating a screen display protector. The largest item on the desk was a large, thick keyboard, with keys that had long been worn down. Besides the numbers and letters written in white pen in the center, the rest of the keys were almost illegible. Any outdated computer equipment we had discarded in university was far superior to what he was using.
On the wall was a wooden board nailed up as a makeshift bookshelf, holding university textbooks like "Advanced Mathematics", "Calculus", and "Quantum Mechanics". On a nearby worn-out table, there were various items scattered around: eye drops, tape, and tea for soothing a hoarse throat sent by online supporters.
In my personal definition of a home, this certainly wasn't one. How could I ever imagine that in such an environment, a farmer from Anhui had spent nearly 40 years researching frontier physics?
Due to the narrow hallway where the office chair should be placed, I could only sit at the edge of the bed and listen as Brother Qian introduced some of his works. On that day, he wasn't happy. He had just argued with his unreasonable wife, which had made him hoarse and frustrated. But when he spoke about his research achievements over the years, he was full of confidence, without a moment's hesitation. He authorized me to help promote all of his works, videos, and related materials, without mentioning any form of compensation.
A few days later, I got in touch with Ji Wufan, the original author of "Messages from Inner Earth". He too said there was no need for a copyright, and that everything could be fully authorized. Brother Qian and Ji Wufan were like myself writing "Born as a Human"—dedicated to helping the people of this world avoid unnecessary detours, turning the truth into words, and tirelessly promoting it, pouring everything we had into spreading the messages, all in the hope of helping more people and advancing civilization. This kind of intention, however, is truly understood by too few.
I later learned that Brother Qian's editing skills were quite basic. My fingers could dance swiftly on the keyboard, but he could only type with one finger, using pinyin to complete the spelling and right-clicking to copy and paste. In such a simple and busy life, with so many demands on his time, he had to write over a million words of work in his spare moments. How hard must that have been!
I often wonder, are these chosen people really lucky? After they were given the mission, their lives took a huge turn and they embarked on a path of life that ordinary people could not understand, but could never turn back. If it weren't for the experience on the planet Gok in 1985, Brother Qian might have been an honest farmer all his life, and he would not have spent 40 years studying basic physics and mathematics, and then writing books, thinking about cooperating with university scholars to publish papers to gain international recognition for his theories. Ji Wufan is an ordinary firefighter, and he would not have become an amateur writer and blogger. Senior sister, with her talents, she can be an excellent female entrepreneur. And I, maybe all my life, I will take care of my two children and be a good wife, never expecting much from life...
But then, thinking again, they might have no regrets. A life like this, short and fleeting, though hard, is truly worth it!
Not alone, let's move forward together!
