Everlasting love: A Lifetime of Love
When Yu Pingbo was 18 years old and still studying at Peking University, he was married off by his parents. His bride, Xu Baoxun, was four years older than him and had bound feet, embodying the traditional virtues of an old-fashioned lady.
During the May Fourth Movement, escaping old-fashioned marriages became a trend. For a charming young man like Yu Pingbo, love was expected to be passionate and dramatic. However, this arranged marriage, not favored by many, lasted their entire lives.
A Lifetime of Love: A Fairy-Tale Couple
Yu Pingbo was fortunate; the marriage his parents arranged for him didn’t block his path to happiness. Xu Baoxun was delicate and gentle, with refined features, a soft voice, and a thorough education in the arts. Despite her bound feet, her aristocratic background provided her with extensive training in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. She excelled particularly in Kunqu opera.
After graduating from Peking University, Yu Pingbo turned down prestigious job offers and returned to teach at the First Normal School in Hangzhou. They lived by the serene West Lake, where they spent their days together, surrounded by the beauty of nature.
The couple enjoyed listening to the rain, watching the clouds, appreciating the moon, and composing poetry and songs. Xu Baoxun copied and transcribed his works meticulously. She transcribed his first poetry collection, “Winter Night,” twice by hand. She also assisted him in his research on “Dream of the Red Chamber,” for which he became renowned as a leading scholar.
In their spare time, they delved into musical studies together. Xu Baoxun’s Kunqu singing was graceful and touching. Although Yu Pingbo’s voice was far from perfect, often amusing his wife, they hired a flute master to accompany their sessions at home.
Yu Pingbo would write lyrics, and Xu Baoxun would compose music. They enjoyed their life together deeply, resembling an ideal couple. Yu Pingbo once remarked that his love for his wife extended to all women, making him a unique figure in his generation.
A Brief Stay in England
When Yu Pingbo applied to study in England, he began missing his wife as soon as he left home. The ship’s journey was lonely and desolate, with the sea wind making his thin clothes even colder. His thoughts of her were constant and intense.
He continuously wrote poems to her during his journey: “As the morning wind takes me, my shadow remains in the mirror. Though we are apart, our spirits are still entwined, bringing solace to your sorrow. The beauty I see is fleeting, but my longing is endless.” His yearning grew wild like weeds, overwhelming him.
The salty wind was hard to bear compared to the delicate spring rain of Jiangnan and the faint fragrance of her clothes and hair. The simple meals on the ship were unappetizing compared to the homemade dishes she prepared. The familiar comforts of home were deeply missed.
After just 13 days in England, he couldn’t endure it any longer and decided to return to China immediately. His brief stay became a source of amusement, but he had no regrets. His return journey was filled with poetry and longing for his wife. He composed a piece for her: “Flowers and grass accompany me, our shadows inseparable. As I return, my path is uncertain. Counting the days until I see you again, our reunion is all I seek.”
Back home, he found unparalleled comfort in her presence. Sipping the tea she brewed, wearing the clothes she laundered, and rowing together on West Lake brought him immense joy and peace. She was a magnetic force in his life, one he couldn’t bear to leave.
Even when he attempted to go to America, he returned hastily within months. Her homemade green plum wine awaited his return. For Yu Pingbo, being with her was the ultimate happiness, both in heaven and on earth.
Warmth Under a Thatched Roof
During the Cultural Revolution, seventy-year-old Yu Pingbo was sent to a re-education camp in Henan. Xu Baoxun, his wife, could have stayed behind, but upon learning the news, she resolutely applied to join him.
At the camp, Yu’s tasks included growing vegetables and making ropes. They lived in a small room less than ten square meters, formerly a livestock pen, with crumbling walls and dusty air. Despite the poor conditions, they continued to discuss poetry, sing Kunqu opera, paint, and even play bridge.
The small space, filled with the smell of manure and firewood, became a source of many serene and leisurely poems for Yu: “The thatched eaves are low and small, living like a farmer for a year. Watching the west pond’s waters, lost in the easy decline of day.” Xu’s calm, gentle, and pure nature turned the harsh winter into something warm and full of charm.
On October 28, 1977, they celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary, known in the West as a “diamond wedding” and in China as “renewed wedding candles.” That night, they lit candles and decorated their room as if newlywed.
To commemorate their rare six-decade bond, Yu spent a year crafting a seven-character poem, “Renewed Wedding Candle Song”: “White clouds and shadows shift, joys and sorrows fleeting like dust. In quiet companionship, we cherish the autumn moon outside the window.”
Over sixty years of companionship, Yu relied heavily on Xu both in daily life and spiritually. When Xu was hospitalized, Yu wrote her 22 letters in less than a month. These letters were filled not only with concern but also intimate whispers. He instructed her in one letter: “These words are for your eyes only, please keep the original.” The tone was youthful, though he was already in his eighties.
Eventually, the day came when she passed away. It was the darkest, most helpless day of his life. Her death left Yu “alarmed and tearless, like a wooden figure.”
In the remaining years, he wrote over twenty elegies for her. He became reserved, stopped singing Kunqu, and even avoided mentioning it. He no longer wrote poetry for others. Xu’s ashes were placed in their bedroom, so they could still be together every morning and evening, a comforting memory in his now dry days.
Even during his final illness, he refused to leave the room where her ashes were kept. He personally prepared the epitaph for their shared tomb: “The joint burial of Yu Pingbo of Deqing and Xu Baoxun of Hangzhou.”
“People who are deeply affectionate do not grow old, and their love deepens with age.” This was a birthday couplet written by Zhang Yunhe for Xu Baoxun’s 80th birthday. Who says love must be tumultuous? Who says love must endure countless trials? Reflecting back, Yu Pingbo and Xu Baoxun, a talented couple from a traditional marriage, became a part of timeless elegance in the lingering tunes of Kunqu opera.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
