Mao decided to travel to Nanjing to pay tribute to Sun Yat-sen. The last time he had gone was in 1953, arriving by naval vessel and visiting the mausoleum in passing. Sixty years later, he came once more to the Zhongshan Mausoleum.

The mausoleum is located on the southern slope of Purple Mountain in eastern Nanjing. After Sun Yat-sen died in Beijing in March 1925, the Nationalist government followed his wishes and constructed a grand tomb for him in Nanjing. Construction began in January 1926. By the spring of 1929, the main sacrificial hall and principal structures were completed, and on June 1 of that year Sun was interred. The entire project was not fully finished until 1931.

It is said that the mausoleum cost more than one million taels of silver and took six years to complete. The designer and chief architect, Lü Yanzhi, died of exhaustion before the project was fully finished. Sun had originally wished for his body to be preserved in a crystal coffin, like Lenin. The Soviet Union even assisted in transporting a crystal coffin from afar. However, his remains had darkened and were difficult to preserve; the coffin ultimately could not be used, and he was buried underground instead. His burial chamber lies about five meters beneath the recumbent statue and is not open to the public.

Someone once asked Mao what his own final wish would be.

Mao said: “It is a long story. In 1956, at the Eighth Party Congress, I proposed that all central committee members be cremated after death. Everyone agreed and signed their names. Before I died in 1976, I said nothing further, meaning it should be handled according to that decision. But after my death, Jiang Qing and Hua Guofeng ignored what I had signed. They placed me in a crystal coffin in a memorial hall for public viewing, leaving me unable to rest. I do not value the body—no body can be preserved forever. I value the soul. The soul roams in the space of history. Yet mine, I lament, is locked in the eighteenth level of hell, unable to be released for a thousand years, unless the Jade Emperor grants special permission.”

That night Mao tossed and turned restlessly. Sun Yat-sen’s image filled his mind; the past was tangled and complex. Exhausted, he drifted into sleep. At midnight, a chill wind seemed to sweep through him. As he felt himself about to awaken, he saw a figure emerging in the distance. Was it a ghost? The figure slowly approached. Startled, Mao shrank back.

The figure spoke in Mandarin tinged with a Cantonese accent: “Are you Runzhi?”

Mao focused his eyes—it was indeed Sun Yat-sen. “I am Runzhi. Greetings, Dr. Sun!”

Sun replied: “I am no longer Prime Minister. Just call me ‘Sun Gong.’ I have lain here nearly a hundred years. Though I have no crystal coffin, this grand mausoleum satisfies me. Where do you rest?”

Mao answered awkwardly: “My body still lies in Tiananmen Square, not elevated like yours.”

Sun said: “With crowds and traffic passing daily, how can one rest there? Who placed you there?”

Mao replied: “My wife acted on her own. She hoped to use me to advance herself and inherit my position.”

Sun responded: “She was from the theater, was she not? During the Cultural Revolution you unleashed her; she bit at everyone. How could she succeed you?”

Mao sighed: “By the end of the Cultural Revolution, I had brought down Liu Shaoqi and Lin Biao. I distrusted Zhou Enlai and Deng Xiaoping. Looking around, I trusted only my wife—but she lacked stature. Once I met Marx, they arrested her. And there I remain, helpless.”

Sun said: “Runzhi, you rose higher than anyone—your fame unmatched. Yet you only looked forward, not backward. You kept making revolution after revolution, removing all your comrades. When you departed, you left no one. It was as though you fell from the heavens, leaving only a shell behind.”

Sun then reflected on himself: “I was far less successful in life. Like you, I began with rebellion. I admired Hong Xiuquan, calling him the first anti-Qing hero, and aspired to be the ‘second Hong.’ My family was well-off; my brother ran a farm in Hawaii and supported my education in Hong Kong. I graduated in medicine—first in my class, since I was the only student. My medical practice was fine, but I was restless. I organized secret societies, raised funds, supported armed uprisings—‘ten uprisings, ten failures.’”

Mao said: “Your urban insurrection method was perhaps learned from Russia. I led a rural uprising and survived in the mountains. After ten failures, what did you do?”

Sun answered: “I persisted. I left my wife and children and traveled widely, earning the nickname ‘Sun the Cannon.’ I raised little money—sometimes I struggled to eat. Unlike Liang Qichao, who lectured across America and met dignitaries, I joined the Hongmen society for lodging and fundraising. Do you know where I was when the Wuchang Uprising occurred?”

Mao guessed: “You were directing it from behind the scenes?”

Sun smiled sheepishly: “I knew nothing. I was working as a waiter in a Chinese restaurant in Denver. One day a telegram arrived from Huang Xing: ‘Wuchang Uprising successful. Return at once.’ I hurried home via Europe.”

Mao exclaimed: “It was like a pie falling from heaven!”

Sun said: “On the voyage I tried fundraising in Britain. Few believed the Qing would fall. When I reached Nanjing, people assumed I had raised large sums. I told them I had only ideas, not money.”

Mao said sympathetically: “Revolution needs funds and arms.”

Sun continued: “They made me provisional president—but it was an empty title. Yuan Shikai held real power. I promised to yield the presidency if he secured abdication of the Qing emperor. He did so; I stepped aside.”

Mao asked: “Were you not then unemployed?”

Sun replied: “Yes. I asked Yuan for funds to build railways. He gave me 100,000 yuan. But before anything began, Song Jiaoren was assassinated. I suspected Yuan and launched the Second Revolution. It failed, and I fled to Japan.”

Mao said: “Perhaps armed confrontation was too hasty. Legal struggle might have prevailed.”

Sun answered: “Later Yuan declared himself emperor and failed. Duan Qirui rose to power. I could not cooperate and established a rival government in Guangzhou. Foreign powers recognized only Beijing. Years passed in stalemate.”

Mao said: “The breakthrough came from Russia.”

Sun nodded: “Yes. Stalin’s support became a lifeline. In 1923, Soviet adviser Adolf Joffe met me in Shanghai. The Soviet Union provided funds and arms. Thus came the policy of ‘ally with Russia and cooperate with the Communists.’ The Whampoa Military Academy was founded; Chiang Kai-shek was commandant, Zhou Enlai political director. You remember what followed.”

Mao said: “Yes. The Northern Expedition.”

Sun added: “Not everyone favored military conquest. In 1924, Feng Yuxiang invited me north for negotiations. I hoped for peaceful unification. But I fell ill in 1925. Soviet advisers monitored me constantly. I had little freedom.”

Mao said: “That was true for us as well.”

Sun continued: “Stalin sought world revolution. China was a chess piece. His infiltration policy planted the seeds for later Nationalist-Communist conflict.”

Mao reflected: “By 1927, the alliance collapsed. Bloodshed followed.”

Sun sighed: “Tens of thousands died. We were deceived. Without Soviet aid, perhaps peaceful negotiation would have prevailed. When I died, the revolution was still unfinished.”

Sun then asked: “You later defeated Chiang and unified the mainland. Why then so many further deaths?”

Mao replied: “I pursued continuous revolution—land reform, class struggle, the Cultural Revolution. Seventy million perished. At my death, the economy stood on the brink.”

Sun said: “You proved Liang Qichao right—‘revolution begets revolution.’ I admire Deng Xiaoping. He set aside perpetual revolution and focused on economic development. You followed Russia’s path; he followed America’s. The results speak for themselves.”

Mao answered: “His path brought inequality and corruption. Yet he retained my banner while changing the substance.”

Sun concluded: “Deng’s path resembles Liang’s reformism. Had reform prevailed earlier, much suffering might have been avoided. Even Cixi had initiated constitutional plans. Instead, revolution and foreign influence cost decades. We even lost Outer Mongolia amid chaos.”

Finally Mao asked: “What guiding thought should China follow today?”

Sun replied: “China has a moral lineage—from Yao, Shun, Yu, to Confucius. My Three Principles of the People—nationalism, democracy, livelihood—sought to continue that tradition in modern form. China must remember its ancestors and moral continuity.”

Hearing Sun’s reflections, Mao felt clarity. Their perspectives had drawn unexpectedly close. Sensing the conversation complete, Sun bade farewell and gradually receded into the distance.

NEXT: 12. Stalin (1878–1953)