Tang Fenglou guarded and passed on the spirit of Ashima for decades, with his two sons inheriting this precious, unselfish family bond.
When Yang Likun passed away, her two sons were still minors, and those close to her quietly lamented that the future for the three of them—father and sons—looked bleak.
No one could have predicted that Tang Fenglou would shoulder this burden—one that others would go out of their way to avoid—for more than forty years. In 1973, despite the unanimous opposition of his entire family, he resigned from his secure teaching position at Shanghai International Studies University to marry Yang Likun, who was recuperating in a sanatorium and had long since lost her mental stability.For the next twenty-seven years, he cared for Yang Likun day in and day out—bringing her water, feeding her, washing her, and massaging her legs were part of his daily routine. Whenever she had an episode—falling, breaking things, or crying uncontrollably—he would always step in front of her to shield her, all while raising their two children on his own.When friends and relatives urged him not to endure such hardship, he simply replied, “She once played the role of Ashima; I cannot let her suffer any injustice.”
Twenty-seven years of wear and tear—few others could have endured it, and even fewer would be willing to stake their entire future on caring for patients.
After finally raising her children to adulthood, Yang Likun passed away before them; at the time, both children were still minors. Everyone around them was waiting to see this family’s downfall, believing that with two teenage children to raise, Tang Fenglou’s life was over.But clinging to the legacy of Ashima that Yang Likun had left behind, Tang Fenglou pressed on for more than twenty years.He took his two children deep into the remote mountains and isolated villages of Yunnan, telling the story of Ashima to the children there and carrying Ashima’s songs to mountain valleys where they had never been heard before.He rarely lectured his sons on grand principles; whenever he sorted through the old stage photos left behind by Yang Likun, he would simply say, “There are things your mother held dear in her heart—someone has to carry on her work.”
When others read about this chapter of their past, they can’t help but be moved—it turns out that all the hardships they endured during those years had a purpose, and this family had long held a steadfast sense of direction in their hearts.
Now both sons are already taller than their father,They have never considered using their mother’s fame to make a quick buck, nor are they willing to profit by appearing in public as descendants of Ashima. Instead, they have followed in their father’s footsteps, traveling even farther along the mountain trails than he did in his day, and speaking with even greater passion when sharing Ashima’s story than their father did back then.
The moving traditions of this world are never merely superficial labels; rather, they are imprints etched into our very bones and blood—aspirations that have been cherished and passed down through generation after generation. Some have cherished them their whole lives; some have passed them on their whole lives; and some will continue to cherish them for the rest of their lives.
Our generation has lived through most of our lives and seen far too many people exploit their relatives’ fame for personal gain, as well as far too many who shrink back and run away when faced with hardship. It is truly rare to find a family like the Tangs, who have held fast to a bond of loyalty and a cherished memory, steadfastly upholding it for a lifetime and passing it down to the next.The most precious thing in this world is never wealth, but the loyalty and affection ingrained in one’s very being. If you, too, appreciate this rarity, please share this story so that more people may learn of this heartfelt devotion.
