Demi-Gods, Semi-Devils Afterword (3rd Edition)

When Jin Yong revised the Demi-Gods, Semi-Devils from the original newspaper serialisation for print, he wrote this afterword for the novel, also known as the Second Edition. He extended it when he revised the novel for the Third Edition.

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While editing and revising Demi-Gods, Semi-Devils, I often found myself recalling Mr Chen Shixiang’s kind and graceful countenance, picturing him holding his pipe as he spoke with assurance about his scholarly pursuits.

Though Chinese authors do not traditionally dedicate their books to mentors or friends, I earnestly wish to add in this afterword: “This book is dedicated to a friend I deeply respect and cherish—Mr Chen Shixiang”. Sadly, he is no longer with us. I hope that his spirit may somehow know of this small gesture.

Mr Chen and I met only twice, hardly enough to claim a deep friendship. He wrote me two letters containing many words about Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils that truly made me feel humbled. Given his scholarly accomplishments and academic standing, such praise was excessive. Perhaps it stemmed from his fondness for traditional Chinese-style novels, or possibly because we shared similar worldviews.

Nevertheless, his assessment far exceeded what I deserved. My gratitude and joy came not only from receiving recognition from such an eminent literary critic—though it certainly bolstered my confidence—but more importantly because he pointed out that wuxia novels need not be mere entertainment. They could also express life’s joys and sorrows, and convey profound insights into the human condition.

At the time, I had resolved that when Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils was eventually published as a single volume, I would certainly invite Mr Chen to write the preface. Now I can only append his two letters at the end of the book to commemorate this friend.

Of course, readers will understand that this also serves to showcase a distinguished scholar’s positive review. Every writer yearns for favourable reception of their work. If readers find no enjoyment in one’s writing, the author’s labour becomes utterly meaningless. It brings me great joy when people take pleasure in reading my novels. When I heard of Mr Chen’s untimely death, I wept for a long while.

There was a line in Mr Chen’s letter that read: “Still searching for the Four Evils Christmas card, no sign of it.” There is a story behind this. Mr Chen told me that Mr Hsia Tai-An from Taiwan also enjoyed my wuxia novels. Once, in a bookshop, he came across a Christmas card featuring four figures whose appearances and expressions reminded him of the Four Evils from Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils. He purchased it, wrote my name on it along with some words of praise, and wished to send it to me.

As we had never met, he entrusted it to Mr Chen for forwarding. Mr Chen placed it amongst his belongings and later could not locate it.

Mr Hsia Tai-An mentioned my wuxia novels several times in his articles, with rather excessive praise. Though I maintained a reasonably good friendship with his brother Mr Hsia Chih-tsing, fate never brought us together. I never had the opportunity to meet him, nor did I receive that Christmas card. When reading The Diary of Hsia Tai-An and his other works, I often regret never having met such a warm and sincere talent.

Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils was first serialised in Ming Pao and Singapore’s Nanyang Siang Pau in 1963 over four years. During my time abroad, I invited Brother Ni Kuang to take over the writing for over forty thousand words. Brother Ni Kuang’s contribution was an independent plot depicting the battle between Murong Fu and Ding Chunqiu in an inn.

Though it was a remarkable scene, it bore no essential connection to the rest of the novel. In this revision, with Brother Ni Kuang’s consent, I have removed it, retaining only the section where Ding Chunqiu blinds Azi, which cannot be omitted.

Newspaper serials could not be suspended for extended periods, hence I invited Brother Ni Kuang to take over the writing.

However, when publishing a compilation, there is no justification for appropriating another’s work. All text in the Anthology of Jin Yong’s Works, regardless of quality, is one hundred per cent written by Jin Yong without anyone else’s contribution. I would like to express my gratitude to Brother Ni Kuang for his kindness in taking over the writing back then.

October 1978

I made significant changes to the reprinted edition of Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils published in October 1978. This third edition saw further revisions, additions, and deletions, with the whole process taking three years and six modifications.

Some additions might seem unnecessary—for instance, the relationship between Wuyazi, Ding Chunqiu and Li Qiushui; the friendship between Murong Bo and Jiumozhi; Shaolin Sect’s attitude towards Xiao Feng; Duan Yu finally breaking free from his obsession with Wang Yuyan; and other scenes.

The original story left considerable room for readers’ imagination, but this also created gaps and ambiguities. Chinese readers tend to dislike relying on their own imagination, preferring authors to explain everything explicitly so they can conclude with satisfaction: “So that’s how it is—much better!”

This is especially true of many young readers who insist on such certainty. Perhaps this represents a virtue of the Chinese people: emphasising solid reasoning whilst distrusting intangible imagination and groundless romanticism. Therefore, I have filled in the blanks I initially left with vivid details.

Those who prefer the intangible might find this style of writing somewhat clumsy. I can only ask for your forgiveness. This stems from my own personality, which contains more elements of the awkward and real than the clever and ethereal.

The characters’ personalities, skills, and abilities in Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils are often exaggerated or even impossible–such as the Spirit Blade of Six Meridians, the Flaming Sabre, Beiming Power, Wuyazi’s skill transference, Child Granny’s transformation back into a child, and so forth.

Consider the extreme realism and symbolism in modern painting, for instance, a painting of a two-headed woman or similar subjects. In art, expressions that deviate from reality are acceptable.

To this day, no geophysicist has criticised [Zhuangzi’s][^zhuangiz] Carefree Roaming for being unscientific. Zhuangzi wrote that the Dapeng¹ migrated south, “spread its wings and with a few wingbeats soared upwards by ninety thousand li.²

However, according to geophysics, seventeen kilometres above Earth’s surface lies the tropopause where temperatures plummet, beyond which lies the stratosphere. It is extremely cold there, and the air only allows lateral movement. Ascending further becomes very difficult because when warmer air rises, the cold air below cannot rise to replace it, leaving a gap.

The upper boundary of this layer is about fifty kilometres from the surface. Even air can hardly rise beyond fifty kilometres. It would be quite a feat for Zhuangzi’s Dapeng to ascend above 90,000 li (45,000 kilometres).

I suspect botanists would also criticise Zhuangzi for claiming that “the ancient Dachun³ blooms for eight thousand years and withers for eight thousand years,” as I doubt any plants possess such longevity. Similarly, a Dapeng or an anchovy with a back spanning thousands of li likely does not exist.

Some Chinese natural scientists have insisted on researching whether the Spirit Blade of Six Meridians is possible. I wonder if foreign entomologists have studied whether a man’s transformation into a giant beetle⁴ is physiologically or entomologically possible.

Some literary critics demand that all novels conform to realism. Mainland authors had to adhere to Chairman Mao Zedong’s principles from the Yan’an Forum on Literature and Art after the Cultural Revolution. Since then, the rules have relaxed, and one has the freedom to follow them or not.

From ancient times, our nation’s literary and artistic creations have emphasised unfettered imagination. People nowadays are too constrained by reality and take things too literally.

Once, a pedant criticised Li Bai’s poems: “White hair that is three thousand feet long” is too long; in “morning passed as though black hair turned snowy white,” the hair whitened too quickly; in “the peach blossom lake is a thousand feet deep⁵,"" the lake is too deep; “The monkeys along both banks have yet to stop chattering, but my boat has already passed ten thousand mountains” depicts too many mountains—a hundred or thousand times more than actually exist between Baidicheng⁶ and Jiangling⁷.

Another pedant—though Shen Kuo was not truly a pedant—criticised Bai Juyi’s Song of Everlasting Regret,⁸ saying: “It states, ‘Few people travel along the foot of Mount Emei, the banners had no lustre and the sky was bleak’, but Mount Emei is in the state of Jia. Tang Xuanzong did not need to pass by Mount Emei when travelling from Chang’an to Sichuan.”

In truth, poems and songs are not travelogues. This poem simply used Mount Emei to represent Sichuan. He also criticised Du Fu’s Ancient Cypress in the Wuhou Temple, saying: “The poem states, ‘The girth of the tree’s bark is as wide as forty wei⁹,’ and the dark green canopy rose two thousand feet into the sky. Forty wei is only seven feet, yet the tree is two thousand feet tall. Is this cypress not too tall and thin?”

Some critics noted that Wu Song¹⁰ need not pass through Jingyang County when travelling from Yanggu County, Shandong to Qinghe County to visit his brother Wu Dalang. However, Jingyang Ridge was where the remarkable tale of Wu Song slaying a tiger took place. Had he not passed through Jingyang Ridge, he would not have slain the ferocious tiger. Everyone would have found this a pity, except perhaps endangered species activists.

Water Margin is a remarkable novel, yet contains many bizarre scenes. For instance, when Li Kui went to find Gongsun Sheng, he was stopped by Master Luo¹¹. Li Kui killed Master Luo, who bled white blood, along with his child servant. However, the murdered duo did not die—Master Luo had used gourds to create decoys.

During the journey, Magic Traveller Daizong tied two magic talismans to Li Kui’s legs and read an incantation. Li Kui immediately ran without stopping, travelling 800 li (400 kilometres) in a day. Had they participated in a World Games marathon, they could have sprinted non-stop for 400,000 chi (133 kilometres). Had Daizong brought another person, the trio would have swept all the medals.

In Romance of the Three Kingdoms, after Lü Meng killed Lord Guan,¹² the latter’s spirit appeared on Yuquan Hill crying, “Return my head!” He also possessed Lü Meng to attack Sun Quan, after which Lü Meng collapsed and died.

In the section “Cursing Wang Lang to Death in Wuxiang,” Zhuge Liang viciously scolded the enemy commander Marquis Wang Lang during a clash of battle formations: “After Wang Lang heard it, his chest was filled with anger, and with a despairing cry, he fell and died at the feet of his horse.”

It seems unbelievable that during a military engagement, Zhuge Liang could kill the enemy commander merely by scolding him. However, Romance of the Three Kingdoms has been considered a great novel since ancient times and cannot be judged solely by factual accuracy.

Mr Wang Guowei praised the expression, “The west wind withered the green tree last night; standing atop a tall tower, gazing at the whole road to the end of the world.”

Yet how could one view the entire road to the world’s end—–stretching thousands or tens of thousands of li—merely by standing on a tall tower? As a renowned physicist, Mr He Zuoxiu of the Chinese Academy of Sciences often criticised the supernatural powers preached by Falun Gong as unscientific from an academic perspective, which is quite admirable.

I had a conversation with Mr He in Beijing the year before last. Mr He first mentioned that he was a fan of Jin Yong’s novels, then immediately pointed out: “There is only one type of force in physics. Human-generated force should not be separated into internal and external categories. However, wuxia novels have long established this convention, and readers have grown accustomed to accepting it. Readers do not object when qigong is used to channel internal force for external strikes. This is because in art, conventional fabrications are permitted without concern for their authenticity.”

I agree with Mr He’s eloquent perspective.

Wuxia novels contain many habitual fabrications that have become conventional. It is like modern artists of the National People’s Congress painting Huashan, exaggerating its magnificent peaks with numerous inaccessible cliffs. In reality, hundreds of people climb the mountain daily. Although the painting exaggerates and departs from reality, it remains good art, not a map, and no one can deny this.

Su Dongpo once painted bamboo with red ink in a carefree manner. Someone criticised him, saying, “Are there such things as red bamboo?” Su countered, “Are there then such things as black bamboo?” Experts often drew bamboo with black ink, so people grew accustomed to it and found nothing strange about it.

I dare not claim this book can be compared to a work of art, but I understand that art need not conform to reality.

November 2002

Footnotes

1. 大鵬 – Dà Péng. A legendary giant bird likened to the Roc. ↩

2. 里 – Lǐ. A Chinese unit of measurement equivalent to 500 metres. Hence 90,000 li is 45,000 kilometres. ↩

3. 大椿 – Dà Chūn. The tree of heaven. ↩

4. This refers to Franz Kafka’s novella The Metamorphosis. ↩

5. This phrase metaphorically refers to deep friendship. ↩

6. 白帝城 – Báidì Chéng. An ancien fortress in Chongqing. See Wikipedia ↩

7. 江陵 – Jiāng Líng. Historical name of Jingzhou, a city in Hubei. See Wikipedia ↩

8. 长恨歌 – Cháng Hèn Gē. A literary masterpiece by famous Tang poet Bai Juyi. See Wikipedia ↩

9. 微 – Wēi. A unit of measurement spanning shoulder to shoulder. ↩

10. 武松 – Wǔ Sōng. A legendary hero and a character in Water Margin. See Wikipedia ↩

11. 真人 – Zhēn rén. A Daoist spiritual master. ↩

12. 关公 – Guān Gōng. Guan Yu, a legendary hero and a character in Romance of the Three Kingdoms, is reverentially called Lord Guan. See Wikipedia ↩