A woman named Yuan Jialun, who is compared to a “Phoenix reborn from the ashes,” struggled through five near-death escapes to finally reach Hong Kong in order to break free from the hardships of the Cultural Revolution. She arrived in Hong Kong with no money, no support, and lived in the notorious and terrifying Kowloon Walled City. Starting as a painter, she laid down roots in Hong Kong for 20 years. On the eve of the 1997 handover of Hong Kong, she decided to immigrate to Seattle in the United States for the freedom of the next generation, adapting to a new country where she had to relearn everything in an unfamiliar language, obtain a driver’s license, attend university, and ultimately graduate alongside her son at the age of 45, fulfilling her dream of obtaining a college education and becoming an artist and writer in Seattle.
Born in 1949 to a family of engineers on the south bank of the Pearl River in Guangzhou, Yuan Jialun’s parents worked in the chemical industry bureau and a watch factory. She had two younger sisters and a younger brother.
Her childhood was filled with listening to her father’s fairy tales and her mother’s singing. Her mother was said to be a relative of Ma Sicong, known as the “First Violinist of China”. In her later years, Yuan Jialun became a children’s literature writer, a singer, possibly influenced by her childhood experiences.
Her happy memories were short-lived as the Cultural Revolution began during her high school years. Overnight, classmates who used to laugh and chat with her turned into menacing Red Guards raiding homes.
In her autobiography “Phoenix in the Flames,” she wrote: “The Red Guards hit the ground with sticks, loudly accusing me and my grandmother of hoarding ‘Four Olds,’ attempting to overthrow the government. They confiscated all the money in our house, my father’s beloved large bookcase, all furniture except the bed, clothes, and even my cotton jacket. They covered the walls of my home with insults and slurs against me.”
Her grandmother’s statue of Guanyin, jade items, water pipes, bridal clothes… all were taken by the Red Guards, marking her first experience of the fear brought by the Cultural Revolution.
After the Cultural Revolution, all schools were closed, and high school students had to go to the countryside for “reeducation.” At the age of 19, she, along with her two sisters and younger brother, returned to their hometown, Tangxia, in Dongguan, to work in the fields. Growing up in the city, she had never experienced such hardships. Tending rice paddies with slippers, carrying heavy loads of rice back to the farm… Although she later became a private teacher, every day was a struggle for her. Desiring a university education, she saw no future prospects and did not want to be stuck in the countryside for the rest of her life. At that time, she yearned most to be a bird and fly out to see the world.
Yuan Jialun said, “Finally, I can live the life I’ve chosen like a bird released from a cage, seeking freedom with my life, without regrets in this lifetime.”
On May 1, 2018, at a beach on an outlying island of Hong Kong, hundreds of elderly people gathered spontaneously with elegies for a memorial ceremony for escapees.
At the age of 69, Yuan Jialun returned from the United States to this place that changed her destiny, to participate in the memorial ceremony commemorating the dead escapees. Reuniting on the beach, old friends were moved to tears. Former classmates who were once strong and robust now had gray hair. Despite battling lung cancer at the time, unsure of how much longer she had to live, she welcomed her friends with a smile, cherishing every moment of reunion.
Reflecting on her five escapes to Hong Kong, she felt deeply grateful. With the determination of “Better to die than live without freedom,” she pushed through thorns and jungle, crossed mountains and rivers, swam across oceans, was caught by militia, sucked dry by leeches, bitten by snakes, endured oyster fields like blades cutting… Every scene replayed before her eyes.
The last time Yuan Jialun smuggled herself was in 1974, swimming for six hours at sea before finally reaching land. As she made her way through farmlands and fish ponds, stepping onto the land of Hong Kong, the jubilant feeling she had anticipated was nowhere to be found. Aimlessly walking along a road with her companion, Ayn, they were soon discovered by the police in Hong Kong and taken to a detention center. Unlike mainland Chinese police, the police in Hong Kong were polite and even provided milk and bread with fish and meat in the prison, which surprised her.
The next day, she developed a high fever and severe pain in her feet and shins, as the cut she had received while crossing the oyster field and swimming in the sea had become infected. A female police officer took her to see a doctor, applied ointment to the wound, and told her how lucky she was. A week later, the Hong Kong government stopped admitting mainland refugees, and anyone caught would be repatriated. This stroke of luck led her to the free world.
“Willingly sacrifice life for freedom, regret not in death,” a eulogy she wrote for a memorial service, was later engraved on the East Coast “Monument to the Victims of Escapees from Hong Kong”, serving as a permanent tribute.
Coming from a restricted country, unfamiliar with the flashy world of Hong Kong, Yuan Jialun described herself as a bird kept in a cage for years, lacking the skills to find food. Arriving in Hong Kong meant starting all over again for her. She was fortunate to soon get a job as a painter in an export clothing company in Hong Kong, where she painted on clothes.
During her 20 years in Hong Kong, she moved homes seven times, with the most memorable being when she moved into Kowloon Walled City. At the time, she had no idea what the Walled City was; she simply saw it advertised in the newspaper as cheap rent, and decided to move into a three-bedroom apartment on the thirteenth floor, paying only a third of the rent compared to other places.
The thirteenth floor was the top floor with no elevator, but for the young Yuan Jialun, she had the strength to manage, having persevered through five illegal border crossings, overcoming any hurdle.
Thinking she had settled down, her plan took a turn when a week after moving in, she experienced a “disaster.” Returning home one day from work, she discovered her house in disarray, ransacked by thieves. Already living in poverty, she had only 500 yuan given by a friend, which she was saving for a rainy day, with no job and now left with nothing. She found it strange that thieves would be interested in a run-down house like hers.
It was then that Yuan Jialun understood why the rent in Kowloon Walled City was so cheap – it was a “three unregulated” area where neither the Chinese, British, nor Hong Kong governments had jurisdiction, officially belonging to China (Qing Dynasty). Therefore, the Hong Kong police did not enforce the law within, giving rise to various illegal activities – triads, black market, gambling, drugs. In the building she lived, each staircase from the twelfth floor up to the roof was occupied by a drug addict ready to do anything for their next fix.
Despite encountering thieves soon after moving in, she chose not to move, but instead continued with her life by attending evening art design classes at the Chinese University at Mei Foo Estate after work, learning until late at night. Unafraid, her daily encounters with the drug addicts in the hallways became routine, and subsequent days were uneventful. She marveled at her ability to withstand storms and even death, wondering what else was there to fear.
During her time in the Walled City, Yuan Jialun developed a life skill – painting in oils, becoming an essential craft for her survival in Hong Kong and where she also met her significant other, starting a family. The opportunities were plentiful in Hong Kong, becoming the place where she was reborn.
Although she had planned to set roots in Hong Kong, fate took another turn, leading Yuan Jialun and her family to Seattle in the United States.
Yuan Jialun’s grandmother had passed away before the age of 30, but her father never forgot her whispering “Seattle… Seattle…” before her death. For many years, he searched for his grandmother’s heritage, only to discover that she was born in Seattle, a result of the union between a Native American woman and a Chinese immigrant railroad worker, who became his grandfather’s second wife and bore three sons before passing away in Guangzhou. It was unexpected that her granddaughter would return to her grandmother’s hometown.
In 1992, at the age of over forty, Yuan Jialun faced the challenge of learning English upon immigrating to the U.S. She enrolled in language courses at a community college, where patient teachers not only helped with the language barrier but also offered significant assistance in daily life. This period brought back memories of her childhood and reignited her passion for learning. After settling her two children in school, she returned to campus and pursued further studies at North Seattle College.
She often encouraged herself to approach her immigration to the U.S. as a fresh start, to adapt to the environment if she couldn’t change it. She diligently memorized vocabulary, studied mathematics, geography, history, and graduated with an associate degree with unwavering determination.
Armed with her transcripts from North Seattle College, she applied to the art department of the University of Washington. In her application letter, she wrote: “I passionately love art, but the Cultural Revolution deprived me of an education. Returning to university is my dream. Though older in age, I will redouble my efforts to realize my dream in America.” Her letter moved the professors at the university, leading to her acceptance. At the time, she was already in her fifties, becoming a fellow alumna with her children.
Her university days were filled with memorable experiences. She jokingly referred to herself as the person in the department who created the most laughter and was the only older Chinese woman among the students. Learning sculpture required her to work with machines often causing her to break drilling bits, and she had to learn woodworking, metalsmithing, jewelry crafting, among other skills, expanding her horizons. She ventured into ceramics, jewelry design, exploring various fields. In the summer of 2004, she and her son graduated simultaneously, becoming a topic of conversation.
After graduation, Yuan Jialun’s health declined, as she underwent surgeries for knee joint osteophyte removal and hysterectomy, and later survived a major car accident. In 2014, a routine checkup revealed she had stage II lung cancer, a shocking revelation.
The doctor prescribed four rounds of chemotherapy over a three-month period. As the chemotherapy drugs entered her body drop by drop, it felt like a scorching torrent burning her life, causing nausea at the sight of any food, including her favorites, leading to deformity in her veins and blackening of her arms. The side effects of chemotherapy were severe, causing excruciating pain and a feeling of choosing between life and death.
Throughout her battle with cancer, Yuan Jialun did not give up on her creativity. She wrote several books about her life story, contributed to memorial ceremonies for escapees, and attended memorial events in Hong Kong. Her story was included in a collection of escapee stories called “Using Life to Seek Freedom.” She cherished time, hoping to fulfill her dreams as much as possible and enrich her life.
In early 2021, she passed away in Seattle. Her children wrote a tribute saying, “If anyone thinks Jialun lost the battle with the disease, they are mistaken! Despite the severity of her condition, her will remained unyielding. Throughout her life, Jialun taught us how to face adversity with strength. She never admitted defeat! At the end of her life, she completed her autobiography ‘Phoenix in the Flames’ and composed several songs. Her life brought us encouragement, hope, and reminded us to cherish this free America.”
In her book “Phoenix in the Flames,” Yuan Jialun wrote, “I’m not afraid of death. I didn’t die on the mountains or at sea during the attempted border crossings; these past few decades were a gain. Life isn’t about length but richness. I have no regrets coming to America. In these past twenty years, I have broadened my horizons, as if I’ve lived a lifetime more than others, haven’t I?”
Yuan Jialun used her life to write the story of a generation of drifting Chinese, emerging strong and reborn from the flames, leaving behind a testimony for future generations.
From fishing villages to metropolitan cities, Hong Kong hides outstanding talent. Some say Hong Kong is a paradise for adventurers and a harbor for intelligence and hard work. The civilization, courage, and integrity of Hong Kong people shone brightly at critical moments with great tolerance and love.
The term “Hongkonger” has come to represent a spirit that can continue to shine brightly no matter where in the world and is connected to a variety of special individuals who have added color to Hong Kong’s culture and spirit. Stay tuned for the new program “Legendary Drifter,” delving into the stories of exceptional individuals, both big and small, associated with Hong Kong, sharing their legendary life stories.
-The production team of “Legendary Drifter”