Gu Zhun was a prodigious genius. As early as 1930, at the age of fifteen, he had already made a name for himself in accounting circles in Shanghai, earning the title “extraordinary young prodigy.” At nineteen, he published China’s first monograph on bank accounting. By twenty-three, he was simultaneously a senior official and an underground activist, teaching at three missionary universities—St. John’s, Zhijiang, and Hujiang—delivering lectures in both English and Japanese. In the 1950s, he joined the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, reading widely and mastering knowledge both Eastern and Western, natural and social sciences. He was proficient in mathematics, history, and economics, and produced research in philosophy, law, religion, sociology, and politics.

Despite his talents, political disagreements brought him persecution.

The Jade Emperor said, “You are said to be the one who ‘ignited himself to illuminate the darkness.’ A thinker full of vitality during the Cultural Revolution!”

Gu Zhun said, “I died at fifty-nine. Years of struggle sessions, labor reform on farms, family destroyed, poverty and illness—surviving to fifty-nine was already something of a mercy.”

The Jade Emperor, unaware of the full story, said, “Tell me from the beginning. How did you live through it all?”

Gu Zhun replied, “Very well. I became a thinker because the Cultural Revolution forced it upon me. I loved accounting from childhood. After 1949, I moved from accounting to other fields. I did well in Shanghai. In 1949, at thirty-four, I was in charge of Shanghai’s finance and taxation, a member of the municipal Party committee alongside Chen Yi and Fang Yi, a candidate for deputy mayor. In 1951, the Ministry of Finance planned to appoint me Director of the Budget Bureau. Chen Yi asked me about it, but I preferred to stay in Shanghai. I said, ‘Entering the cabinet will make me a bonsai, not a tree.’ In 1952, during the Three-anti Campaign, I escaped the scrutiny, yet was inexplicably removed from office. I devoted myself to scholarship, later joining the Academy of Social Sciences.”

The Jade Emperor asked, “How did you become labeled a rightist?”

Gu Zhun said, “I clashed with superiors over revaluation of Shanghai’s industrial and commercial assets; they accused me of opposing the Party. On a Sino-Soviet joint inspection, I stood up to overbearing Soviet experts and was labeled ‘anti-Soviet.’ I replied, ‘Even if the old monk admits mistakes now, it’s too late,’ and thus was deemed ‘anti-Mao.’ I became a ‘Three-anti’ target. Kang Sheng said, ‘If Gu Zhun is not a rightist, who is?’ That’s how I became a rightist.”

The Jade Emperor said, “It seems a minor issue. You were a victim of political power struggles. What happened next?”

Gu Zhun said, “Once a rightist, I could no longer conduct research. I was sent to rural labor reform in Hebei. In 1958, during the Great Leap Forward’s backyard steel campaign, I could not help but object: ‘What backyard steel? Blind recklessness! I cannot accept this!’ I became guilty of opposing the Great Leap Forward, adding to my ‘crimes.’”

The Jade Emperor said, “Steel campaigns were Mao’s initiative. Opposing them was, in his view, opposing him, so your punishment deepened.”

Gu Zhun said, “In 1959, I was sent to labor reform in Xinyang, Henan. During the famine that followed the Great Leap Forward, people starved by the hundreds of thousands. Families perished. I recorded much, kept diaries. My back was weak, using a short hoe, I had to work on my knees. Later, they made me pick dung—anything. Hunger drove people to desperation; I even stole greens in the field to survive. In 1961, seeing my labor, they removed my rightist label. I returned home and loudly said, ‘I do not oppose the Three Red Banners? Nonsense, I oppose them!’ Luckily, no one heard. In 1964, at meetings denouncing Zhang Wentian and Sun Yefang, I stood up and declared: ‘I stubbornly maintain my worldview and political thought; I await persecution.’ In 1965, I was labeled a rightist again, this time ‘extreme right,’ and sent back to labor reform.”

The Jade Emperor said, “Twice labeled a rightist—rare indeed. The second time, the Cultural Revolution came the following year.”

Gu Zhun said, “At the start of the Cultural Revolution, all demons had to obediently write self-criticism on big-character posters. I wrote just two large characters: ‘Read History,’ on a blank sheet, posted on a bulletin board. I stayed there to read, to see where China was heading. The rebels called it defiance, criticized and attacked me.”

The Jade Emperor said, “Life must have been extremely difficult.”

Gu Zhun said, “Like an egg hitting a rock, life was unbearable. To protect my family, I agreed to divorce, severing ties with my five children. In 1968, my wife could not endure and committed suicide by taking poison. I was in labor reform. Learning of her death, I cried out loud. Five children left alone, blaming me—I could not control it.”

The Jade Emperor said, “Family destroyed—truly tragic. I will settle this score for you and your wife.”

Gu Zhun said, “My wife was Wang Bi, born Fang Caixiu. She chose the name Wang Bi after we married and joined underground work. After her death, I used the pen name ‘Huai Bi,’ in memory of her.”

The Jade Emperor asked, “Did your children visit you before you died?”

Gu Zhun said, “I died of cancer. I hoped they would see me once, but after more than ten years, they thought I was a villain and refused. They said they would follow Mao Zedong.”

The Jade Emperor said, “None of the five children came?”

Gu Zhun said, “Not one. Thankfully, my good younger brother visited, carrying my manuscripts, keeping my ideas alive.”

The Jade Emperor asked, “What exactly in your thinking angered those in power?”

Gu Zhun said, “Simply, I realized Mao’s path was wrong. After the revolution, where would it go? Mao continued the Soviet route; the revolution became despotic. Totally wrong.”

The Jade Emperor said, “Opposing despotism was opposing Mao.”

Gu Zhun said, “I never mentioned Mao by name, though it was clear. My manuscripts survived because otherwise I would have been labeled a ‘current counterrevolutionary’ and executed. I only completed half my research; I intended to compare Chinese and European civilization, to show the shift from revolution to despotism was wrong. But the Jade Emperor did not grant me time. My life ended from revolutionary idealism to despair. I left with regret.”

The Jade Emperor asked, “Were you ever rehabilitated?”

Gu Zhun said, “Not until 1980. A memorial service was held. The democrats called me the foremost thinker of the Cultural Revolution era, ‘while all were drunk, I alone was sober.’ The government showed little recognition, but my manuscripts could be published. Some commemorative articles were censored. I felt satisfied. My children recognized their mistakes, wept together. I do not blame them, only that my wife and I did not tell them the truth.”

Gu Zhun continued, “Though rehabilitated and my works preserved, I cannot rest. The principal culprit has not admitted guilt. Only when the main perpetrator bows, will all victims’ spirits find peace.”

The Jade Emperor said, “Exactly. Together we will settle Mao Zedong’s crimes. Only by fully judging his crimes will the souls of the dead rest. That day will come soon.”

NEXT: 115. Chen Yinke (1890–1969)