My great-grandfather’s statue in China.

In search of my ancestral roots

“Your great-grandfather was famous,” my mom said. “You can look him up. There is even a statue of him in Yangquan, Shanxi.”

Aside from this comment, I know little about my great-grandfather. My family is not one to tell stories about the past. The only trace I can see of him is my grandma's love for coffee and her generally Western palate. Most Chinese in her generation like tea; she prefers milk and coffee. Most people love stir-fries 炒菜 and bao buns 包子; her favorite meals are burgers and cheese. In the 1930s, China had little access to Western cuisine. Thanks to my great-grandpa (her dad) who studied in the UK, her childhood was filled with Western goodies.

They were well off. Studying abroad was a privilege for a select few at the time. But that was before my time or my mom's. Only my grandma knew what that was like. "Your grandma knew what a good life felt like. 你奶奶可是过过好日子的," my mom often said. And at the time, a good life meant "morning milk and evening orange 早喝牛奶晚吃橘.”

Then the Japanese came. Communism followed. Our wealth became people’s wealth. And that put an end to the “good life.”

I'm 34. I’ve never asked questions about ancestry. We never told stories; the past just didn't seem all that important. Yet recently, I've been having an itch to find out more. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Like trees, the higher they grow, the deeper into the soil the roots must stretch.

My grandma led a "stable" life. She had the same job with a small and consistent income. She did not question or have expectations for what we studied or what path to take, but shined the family with this very pure form of unconditional love. And this type of love—to give and to fully support—is perhaps the most important lesson I learned from her. She looked up to grandpa. They had 60 years of golden marriage before he passed away a few years ago. They never fought and took care of each other till death did them part. And in my mind, they were the exemplary family I aspire to create.

My grandpa also had a stable job, a good one as the Head of Finance at a State company. Because of this job, we got housing from the Chinese government. We can’t sell it, but it’s a roof in the center of Beijing. And through his connections, mom, aunt, and cousin all ended up working for the same firm. In Chinese, a job in a State-owned firm 体制内 is known as the golden bowl 金饭碗—the utmost stability where one can never lose the job.

In my family, there is almost a culture of not talking about work. When I was in elementary school, we had to fill out a form asking us what our parents did for work. I was the only one in my class who didn’t know their occupation. I just knew that every morning, my mom and aunt took the same work bus. As for dad, he often happily brought back volumes of books: Arabian Nights, Grimm Tales, and Journey to the West. Even now, I still don’t know what dad did for work.

Somehow, despite this pattern in my family for job stability and security and a lack of emphasis on the work life altogether, I didn't end up this way. It may have been a result of an education in America and the American Dream. A high school teacher once told us that she wakes up excited every Monday morning as she heads to work. This sentiment became my North Star. I followed my passion and pursued entrepreneurship.

My risk appetite and desire to affect some sort of change in this world is unfamiliar to my mom, grandma, and anyone I'm close to. I am close enough to share these ideas with them, and they love me enough to listen and offer their full support. Yet, they don't fully understand. They listen with a sort of underlying apprehension and unease. And somewhere, it is their deepest wish that I could just find a job and have some consistent income.

Despite their support, it feels like a lonely journey. I feel I'm riding against a current, isolated on this path.

But wait.

There is great-grandpa. Why was he famous?

I finally looked him up.

赵铁卿（1880～1960），阳泉保晋铁厂原厂。长宁武县人，山西大学毕业后留学英国南威尔斯大学，学习冶金。

Zhao Tieqing (1880-1960) was the original factory director of the Yangquan Baojin Iron Works. A native of Ningwu County, after graduating from Shanxi University, he studied abroad at the University of South Wales in Britain, majoring in metallurgy.¹

他曾建议开办近代炼铁厂，并拟有建厂计划。1917年1月，保晋公司经理崔廷献推荐他出任制铁部长，随即组织人员对创办铁厂的可行性进行了调查。

He proposed establishing a modern iron smelting plant and drafted plans for factory construction. In January 1917, Cui Tingxian, manager of Baojin Company, recommended him for the position of head of the iron production department. He immediately organized personnel to investigate the feasibility of establishing an ironworks.

My eyes widened as I read these lines. He was an entrepreneur.

If he had been alive today, would he have been more understanding of what I'm doing with my life? Would he have listened to my stories and out-of-this-world ideas with excitement and sparked a hundred more? Would he have told his stories about his factory with as much enthusiasm as I have for listening to them? We’d have had the kind of conversation that extends late into the night by oil lamp, one that fuels us both with energy.

Maybe I'm not alone.

For some reason, having someone in the family who shares the same spirit gives me a bit of comfort. It is as if there is something solid to rely on, an energy to draw from. It is as if I could borrow courage from my ancestors.

I want to know more. And I read on.

因对保晋铁厂的发展做出过重要贡献，2007年，阳泉市新建的保晋文化园内塑有铜像。

Because of his important contributions to the development of the Baojin Iron Works, a bronze statue of him was erected in 2007 in the newly built Baojin Cultural Garden in Yangquan City.

There it is, still standing at Baojin Cultural Garden 保晋文化园 is my great-grandfather’s statue.

The statue was erected 47 years after his death. By then, everyone in my family had left for Beijing. Could it mean that people in the town of Yangquan know more about my great-grandpa than anyone in my family? Then I found a post published in 2020. That was just 5 years ago!²

10号院的主人，赵铁卿，名铮。10号院大门坐东朝西，为二进院的民国建筑，正房五间，这处四合院修建于上世纪20年代，整座院落占地近300平方米，全部为中西合璧的青砖建筑，

一进门处原有一副彩色‘紫气东来’照壁，上有‘喜鹊登枝’的刻绘，工艺极其精美，邻居们都印象深刻，因为照壁在外面可以看清。

The owner of Compound No. 10 was Zhao Tieqing, given name Zheng. Compound No. 10, covering nearly 300 square meters, was a two-courtyard siheyuan that was positioned toward the east and faces the west. It was a Republican-era building built in the 1920s that consisted entirely of blue brick buildings that blend Chinese and Western architectural styles.

At the entrance, there was a colorful "Purple Qi Comes from the East" screen wall featuring carved and painted "Magpies Perching on Branches," with extremely exquisite craftsmanship that left a deep impression on neighbors, as the screen wall was clearly visible from the outside.

Here, I want to take a moment to describe siheyuan 四合院, a form of traditional Chinese architecture. In literal terms, it means four sides enclosing the courtyard. The central rectangular courtyard not only provides natural light and ventilation to all surrounding rooms, it creates a private outdoor space, a place to gather for family gatherings and children’s play, and for daily activities like laundry. It’s an architectural design that facilitates social interaction. It’s an architectural art form I absolutely adore.

We had a large house, one that if it were still standing today would be worth a tourist visit. It was demolished in 2004. I didn’t know. My family didn’t know. Reading these lines, my heart ached. History is slowly being wiped away. And more of it will disappear as time passes.

I want to find the author of this post. I want to travel to this town and knock door to door on the street of Xin Min Er Tiao 新民二条、新民北街、五一路, where the siheyuan once stood.

Just maybe, far away on the other side of the world, there is a place in China that remembers my great-grandpa.

And in New York, there is a great-granddaughter that is called to find her roots and the missing puzzle in her identity.

It’s not a hope for what I’ll uncover nor fear of not finding anything tangible. It’s the simple act of breathing the air he once breathed, walking the street he walked, and seeing the place where he made a difference.

It’s standing before his statue, thanking him for being there and for quietly lending me strength to pursue my dreams.

—

Hello from the plane to Beijing,

I travel to China often (here’s a recent essay on China). But this time, I have to go to Yangquan, Shanxi, soon, before more and more of the history disappears.

If you have a story about your ancestry to share, do comment below or respond to this email directly. It would be great to hear from you.

Thank you friends from Write of Passage and Essay Club for the ideation and feedback: Darren Farhan, Cam Houser, Leanna, and Charlie Becker.

1. 【人物篇】民营企业家赵铁卿

该厂总投资为70万银元，其中开办资本为50万元，营业资本20万元。他按运矿、输铁、取水、倒渣 各项程序，勘定厂址距阳泉车站一里许的桃河北岸，平潭垴村的东南端，购得土地120余亩。翌年4月，厂名定为保晋公司阳泉铁厂，简称保晋铁厂。

The factory’s total investment was 700,000 silver yuan, of which 500,000 yuan was startup capital and 200,000 yuan was operating capital. Following the procedures for ore transportation, iron delivery, water supply, and slag disposal, he surveyed and determined the factory site to be on the north bank of the Tao River, about one li from Yangquan Station, at the southeastern end of Pingtan’ao Village, where he purchased over 120 acres of land. In April of the following year, the factory was officially named Baojin Company Yangquan Iron Works, abbreviated as Baojin Iron Works.

【连载】《宁武清朝史话》第6章(21)

民国6年（1917），出任新创办的阳泉保晋铁厂（阳钢的前身）厂长兼总技师。于民国15年8月炼出重约3吨的第一炉铁水，以此铸就一个两米高的大鼎，铭以铁厂创建、发展概况等文字，以志纪念。日军侵占阳泉后，借口治病长期寓居北京。新中国成立后，当选为山西省政协委员。（《阳泉市志》有传）。

In the 6th year of the Republic of China (1917), he was appointed as factory director and chief engineer of the newly established Yangquan Baojin Iron Works (predecessor of Yanggang Steel). In August of the 15th year of the Republic of China (1926), he successfully smelted the first furnace of molten iron weighing approximately 3 tons. With this iron, he cast a large ceremonial tripod (ding) standing two meters tall, inscribed with text commemorating the establishment and development of the iron works.

After the Japanese army occupied Yangquan, he took extended residence in Beijing under the pretext of seeking medical treatment. After the founding of New China, he was elected as a member of the Shanxi Provincial Political Consultative Conference. (A biography from the "Yangquan City Gazetteer").

2. 家在太原 | 沧桑巨变新民街

老宅分前后两院，前院主要为客厅、书房和仆人房间，二道门后侧是后院，主要供主人生活起居之所。外观典雅大方，细微处又可看到做工精良的砖雕石刻等工艺。

房子采用英国的取暖方式，高洋铁炉加空心大墙，房屋冬暖夏凉。

可惜的是2004年10、11号大院强行拆迁，当时拆迁还引起社会媒体和太原市人大的强烈保护支持。

The old residence is divided into front and rear courtyards. The front courtyard mainly housed the living room, study, and servants' quarters, while behind the second gate lies the rear courtyard, which served as the main living quarters for the master of the house. The exterior is elegant and dignified, while fine details reveal exquisite craftsmanship in brick carvings and stone engravings.

The house employed the British heating method, using high cast-iron stoves with hollow thick walls, keeping the rooms warm in winter and cool in summer.

Regrettably, in 2004 compounds No. 10 and 11 were forcibly demolished. At that time, the demolition sparked strong protective support from the media and the Taiyuan Municipal People’s Congress.