Journal articles on the topic 'Xin jing ji'

ObjectivesPatients with type 2 diabetes have a higher risk of colorectal cancer (CRC), but whether Chinese herbal medicines (CHMs) can reduce this risk is unknown. This study investigated the effect that CHMs have on CRC risk in patients with type 2 diabetes.Research design and methodsThis cohort study used the Taiwanese National Health Insurance Research Database to identify 54 744 patients, newly diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, aged 20–70 years, who were receiving treatment between 1998 and 2007. From this sample, we randomly selected 14 940 CHMs users and 14 940 non-CHMs users, using propensity scores matching. All were followed through 2012 to record CRC incidence. Cox proportional hazards regression was used to compute the hazard ratio (HR) of CRC by CHMs use.ResultsDuring follow-up, 235 CHMs users and 375 non-CHMs users developed CRC, incidence rates of 1.73% and 2.47% per 1000 person-years, respectively. CHM users had a significantly reduced risk of CRC compared with non-CHM users (adjusted HR=0.71; 95% CI 0.60 to 0.84). The greatest effect was in those receiving CHMs for more than 1 year. Huang-Qin, Xue-Fu-Zhu-Yu-Tang, Shu-Jing-Huo-Xue-Tang, Liu-Wei-Di-Huang-Wan, Ji-Sheng-Shen-Qi-Wan, Gan-Lu-Yin, Shao-Yao-Gan-Cao-Tang and Ban-Xia-Xie-Xin-Tang were significantly associated with lower risk of CRC.ConclusionIntegrating CHMs into the clinical management of patients with type 2 diabetes may be beneficial in reducing the risk of CRC.

AbstractBan Gu's compilation of the Han shu may be seen in the context of a number of intellectual and religious developments. By his time the idea of the Tian ming and the theory of the Wu xing were being applied to imperial times. Officials were quoting the sayings of Kongzi to support their arguments, and the writings of distinguished scholars such as Jing Fang, Liu Xiang, Liu Xin and Yang Xiong were well known. The religious controversies that had begun in the reign of Chengdi had died down. The pursuit of scholarship had received a new impetus thanks partly to the discussions held in 79 ce. Ban Gu drew somewhat freely on existing literature, being prudent to select material that would not arouse enmity; his sister called on official documents to complete her part of the history. As an innovator Ban Gu introduced chapters on subjects that had not been treated in the Shi ji, such as bibliography and the laws. Ready to criticize the actions of officials or the character of an emperor openly, he also contrived to do so implicitly.

AbstractsThe rule of surname exogamy, which has been an important feature of Chinese social organization down to recent times, seems to have originated with the Zhou dynasty. Its importance is symbolized in the myth of Jiang Yuan姜媚 or 姜原, the mother of Hou Ji后稷, Lord Millet, the ancestor of the Zhou kings, whose surname was Ji姬. Contrary to a view that has become popular, it is argued that Ji and Jiang could not have been the names of two originally separate peoples with different geographical origins that came together and formed an intermarrying alliance but were the names of the two leading, intermarrying, clans of a single people. After the Zhou conquest of Shang, marriage politics, which required the rulers of originally non-Chinese states to have clan names of the same kind, played an important part in gradually incorporating such states into the Zhou, Hua-Xia華夏, polity. The fact that the surnames Ji and Jiang were also found among peoples known as Rong 戎 who were not recognized as Hua-Xia but were probably also Sino-Tibetan in language seems to be consistent with traditional accounts of Zhou's northwestern origins. The words Ji and Jiang are probably etymologically related and although yang羊 “sheep” plays a phonetic role in the graphs of both the surname Jiang and the ethnic name Qiang 羌, Jiang and Qiang are two separate words and need not have anything to do with one another.

Traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) divides fracture treatment into three stages. Many TCM herbs and formulas have been used to treat fractures for thousands of years. However, research regarding the Chinese herbal products (CHPs) that should be used at different periods of treatment is still lacking. This study aims to identify the CHPs that should be used at different periods of treatment as well as confirm the TCM theory of fracture periods medicine. We used prescriptions of TCM outpatients with fracture diagnoses analyzed using the Chang Gung Research Database (CGRD) from 2000 to 2015. According to the number of days between the date of the fracture and the clinic visit date, all patients were assigned to one of three groups. Patients with a date gap of 0-13 days were assigned to the early period group; those with a date gap of 14-82 days were assigned to the middle period group; and those with a date gap of 83-182 days were assigned to the late period group. We observed the average number of herbal formulas prescribed by the TCM doctor at each visit was 2.78, and the average number of single herbs prescribed was 6.47. The top three prescriptions in the early fracture period were Zheng-gu-zi-jin-dang, Shu-jing-huo-xue-tang, and Wu-ling-san. In the middle fracture period, the top three formulas were Zheng-gu-zi-jin-dang, Shu-jing-huo-xue-tang, and Zhi-bai-di-huang-wan. In the late fracture period, the top three formulas were Shu-jing-huo-xue-tang, Gui-lu-er-xian-jiao, and Du-huo-ji-sheng-tang. The main single herbs used in the early fracture period were Yan-hu-suo, Gu-sui-bu, and Dan-shen. From the middle to the late period, the most prescribed single herbs were Xu-duan, Gu-sui-bu, and Yan-hu-suo. We concluded that the results showed that the CGRD utilization pattern roughly meets the TCM theory at different fracture periods.

This paper proposes that the character in the sentence 生乃呼曰 “was born and called out: ‘Jin!’” in the Shanghai Museum manuscript Zi Gao 子羔 should be transcribed as 銫, pronounced jin, and was a special way of writing the word jin 金 “metal.” The myth of Xie in Zi Gao may be related to the virtue of Metal of the Shang dynasty, which can still be seen in a story in the Shiyi ji 拾遺記 in which the divine mother asks Jian Di 簡狄 to give birth to Xie to “succeed the Virtue of Metal.” This paper also traces the myths of Shaohao 少皞 and Xie in order to show that Shaohao and Xie derive from the same mythical source. This paper argues that the association of Shang with the virtue of Metal already existed prior to the time that Zou Yan 鄒衍 systematized the Five Virtues.

Since the Jin Hou Su chime-bells from the cemetery of the Jin lords at Tianma-Qucun, Shanxi, became known to the scholarly world, the problem of the dates contained in its inscription has attracted the attention of scholars both in and outside of China. In this article we discuss two aspects of this problem. First, while the “thirty-third year” date of the inscription must certainly refer to King Xuan's reign, which is to say 795 B.C., the four full date notations of the inscription are incompatible with this year, but are instead compatible with the following year, 794 B.C. This article suggests two ways to reconcile this discrepancy. Second, while there can be no doubt that Jin Hou Su is Jin Xian Hou, the “Jin shijia” chapter of the Shi ji gives his dates of reign as 822 to 812 B.C., which is in turn incompatible with either 795 or 794 B.C. However, in the Shi ji's genealogy of Jin lords, the son of Xian Hou is Mu Hou and the grandson of Mu Hou is Zhao Hou, which contradicts the zhao-mu structure of the Zhou ancestral system. Therefore, we propose that the Shiji has reversed the order of Xian Hou and Mu Hou, such that Xian Hou's reign actually extended from King Xuan's thirty-third year through his forty-third year (795-785 B.C.). Not only does this simple change in the genealogy of the Jin lords resolve the problem of the dates in the Jin Hou Su bells inscription, but it also serves to explain an entire array of problems in the chronology of early China.

<em>Fo Guo Ji, known as A Record of Buddhistic Kingdom, was written by Chinese Monk Fa Xian in the Eastern Jin Dynasty. It is more a travel documentary than an exotic sceneries miracle stories; and place-legends. It has been regarded as one of the most significant classics that probed into the South Asian culture, religion. This paper deals with James Legge’s English translation of Fo Guo Ji from the perspective of translation ecology. Eco-translatology is put forward by Michael Cronin and met with new result when Hong Kong scholar Hu Gengshen put the three properties of language, to be exact, the characteristics of variability of language in both language structure and context is possible, it follows negotiability in the process of using language and the adaptability is required in eco-environment setting. In light of eco-translation theory, this paper aims at exploring the factors influencing James Legge’s English translation by analysizing the text as well as providing a new angle to interpret James Legge’s translation to Chinese classics.</em>

Alzheimer’s disease (AD) is a widespread neurodegenerative disease caused by complicated disease-causing factors. Unsatisfactorily, curative effects of approved anti-AD drugs were not good enough due to their actions on single-target, which led to desperate requirements for more effective drug therapies involved in multiple pathomechanisms of AD. The anti-AD effect with multiple action targets of Kai-Xin-San (KXS), a classic prescription initially recorded in Bei Ji Qian Jin Yao Fang and applied in the treatment of dementia for thousands of years, was deciphered with modern biological methods in our study. Aβ25-35 and D-gal-induced AD rats and Aβ25-35-induced PC12 cells were applied to establish AD models. KXS could significantly improve cognition impairment by decreasing neurotransmitter loss and enhancing the expression of PI3K/Akt. For the first time, KXS was confirmed to improve the expression of PI3K/Akt by neurotransmitter 5-HT. Thereinto, PI3K/Akt could further inhibit Tau hyperphosphorylation as well as the apoptosis induced by oxidative stress and neuroinflammation. Moreover, all above-mentioned effects were verified and blocked by PI3K inhibitor, LY294002, in Aβ25-35-induced PC12 cells, suggesting the precise regulative role of KXS in the PI3K/Akt pathway. The utilization and mechanism elaboration of KXS have been proposed and dissected in the combination of animal, molecular, and protein strategies. Our results demonstrated that KXS could ameliorate AD by regulating neurotransmitter and PI3K/Akt signal pathway as an effective multitarget treatment so that the potential value of this classic prescription could be explored from a novel perspective.

Методом цитратной золь-гель технологии получен новый двойной борат рубидия–гольмия состава Rb3HoB6O12. Соединение кристаллизуется в тригональной сингонии (пр. гр. R32, a = 13.4038(7), с = 30.315(2) Å, V = 4716.76 Å3) и плавится инконгруэнтно при 818 °С. Попытки получить в однофазном состоянии Rb3HoB6O12 методом твердофазных реакций не привели к положительному результату REFERENCES Wu C., Yang G., Humphrey M.G., Zhang C. Recent advances in ultraviolet and deep-ultraviolet secondorder nonlinear optical crystals // Chem. Rev., 2018, v. 375, pp. 1–30. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ccr.2018.02.017 Bubnova R., Volkov S., Albert B., Filatov S. Borates – crystal structures of prospective nonlinear optical materials: high anisotropy of the thermal expansion caused by anharmonic atomic vibrations // Crystals, 2017, v. 7, pp.1–32. DOI: 10.3390/cryst7030093 Becker P. Borate materials in nonlinear optics // Mater., 1998, v. 10, pp. 979–992. https://doi.org/10.1002/(SICI)1521-4095(199809)10:13<979::AIDADMA979>3.0.CO;2-N Chen C., Li R. The anionic group theory of the nonlinear optical effect and its applications in the development of new high-quality NLO crystals in the borate series // Rev. Phys. Chem., 1988, v. 8, pp. 65–91. https://doi.org/10.1080/01442358909353223 Chen C., Wu Y., Jiang A., Wu B., You G., Li R., Lin S. New nonlinear-optical crystal: LiB3O5 // Opt. Soc. Am. B: Opt. Phys., 1989, v. 6, pp. 616–621. https://doi.org/10.1364/JOSAB.6.000616 French R. H., Ling J. W., Ohuchi F. S., Chen C. T. Electronic structure of b-BaB2O4 and LiB3O5 nonlinear optical crystals // Rev. B: Condens. Matter, 1991, v. 44, pp. 8496–8502. https://doi.org/10.1103/Phys-RevB.44.8496 Yusuke Mori, Ikio Kuroda, Satoshi Nakajima, Takamoto Sasaki, Sadao Nakai. New nonlinear optical crystal: Cesium lithium borate // Phys. Lett., 1995, v. 67, pp. 1818–1820. https://doi.org/10.1063/1.115413 Haohai Yu, Zhongben Pan, Huaijin Zhang, Jiyang Wang. Recent advances in self-frequency-doubling crystals // Materiomics, 2016, v. 2, pp. 55–65. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jmat.2015.12.001 Bajor A.L., Kisielewski J., Klos A., Kopzyński K., Lukasiewicz T., Mierczyk J., Mlyńczak J. Assessment of gadolinium calcium oxoborate (GdCOB) for laser applications // Opto-electronics Review, 2011, v. 19, pp. 439–448. https://doi.org/10.2478/s11772-011-0042-2 Dan Zhao, Cong-Kui Nie, Ye Tian, Bao-Zhong Liu, Yun-Chang Fan, Ji Zhao. A new luminescent host material K3GdB6O12: synthesis, crystal structure and luminescent properties activated by Sm3+ // Kristallogr., 2018, v. 233, pp. 411–419. https://doi.org/10.1515/zkri-2017-2101 Dan Zhao, Fa-Xue Ma, Rui-Juan Zhang, Wei Wei, Juan Yang, Ying-Jie Li. A new rare-earth borate K3LuB6O12: crystal and electronic structure, and luminescent properties activated by Eu3+ // Mater Sci: Mater Electron., 2017, pp. 1–9. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10854-016-5501-6 Atuchin V. V., Subanakov A. K., Aleksandrovsky A. S., Bazarov B. G., Bazarova J. G., Dorzhieva S. G., Gavrilova T. A., Krylov A. S., Molokeev M. S., Oreshonkov A. S., Pugachev A. M., Tushinova Yu. L., Yelisseyev A. P. Exploration of structural, thermal, vibrational and spectroscopic properties of new noncentrosymmetric double borate Rb3NdB6O12 // Powder Technol., 2017, v. 28, pp. 1309–1315. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.apt.2017.02.019 Atuchin V. V., Subanakov A. K., Aleksandrovsky A. S., Bazarov B. G., Bazarova J. G., Gavrilova T. A., Krylov A. S., Molokeev M. S., Oreshonkov A. S., Stefanovich S. Yu. Structural and spectroscopic properties of new noncentrosymmetric selfactivated borate Rb3EuB6O12 with B5O10 units // Des., 2018, v. 140, pp. 488–494. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.matdes.2017.12.004 Sangen Zhao, Guochun Zhang, Jiyong Yao, Yicheng Wu. K3YB6O12: A new nonlinear optical crystal with a short UV cutoff edge // Res. Bull., 2012, v. 47, pp. 3810–3813. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.materresbull.2012.05.062 Miriding Mutailipu, Zhiqing Xie, Xin Su, Min Zhang, Ying Wang, Zhihua Yang, Muhammad Ramzan Saeed Ashraf Janjua, Shilie Pan. Chemical cosubstitution- oriented design of rare-earth borates as potential ultraviolet nonlinear optical materials // Am. Chem. Soc., 2017, v. 139, pp. 18397–18405. https://doi.org/10.1021/jacs.7b11263 Li Yang, Yingpeng Wan, Honggen Weng, Yanlin Huang, Cuili Chen, Hyo Jin Seo. Luminescence and color center distributions in K3YB6O12 : Ce3+ phosphor // Phys. D: Appl. Phys., 2016, v. 49 (325303), pp. 1–12. https://doi.org/10.1088/0022-3727/49/32/325303

Herbal teas or herbal drinks are traditional beverages that are prevalent in many cultures around the world. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, an herbal drink infused with different types of medicinal plants is believed to reduce the ‘Shang Huo’, or excessive body heat, a status of sub-optimal health. Although it is widely accepted and has a very large market, the underlying science for herbal drinks remains elusive. By studying a group of herbs for drinks, including ‘Gan’ (Glycyrrhiza uralensis Fisch. Ex DC.), ‘Ju’ (Dendranthema morifolium (Ramat.) Tzvelev), ‘Bu’ (Microcos paniculata L.), ‘Jin’ (Lonicera japonica Thunb.), ‘Xia’ (Prunella vulgaris L.), and ‘Ji’ (Plumeria rubra L.), the long-term jargon is connected with the inflammation of modern immunology through a few pro-inflammatory markers. In vitro studies have indicated that cellular inflammation is lowered by Ju and Jin either individually or synergistically with Gan. Among all herbs, only Gan detoxicated cellular toxicity of Bu in a dose dependent manner. The synergistic formulation of Ju and Gan, or Jin and Gan, in a reduction of Shang Huo, was tested in vivo. Both combinations exhibited a lower percentage of neutrophils, monocytes, and CD4+/CD8+ ratio in the blood, as well as inflammatory cytokines. Furthermore, body weight in the combinatory groups was more stable than treatments using single herbs. The combination of old traditional oriental methods with Western science logistics, has resulted in the formulation of different herbs into one concoction for the use of detoxification and synergism.

The curtain rose. The howling of desert wind filled the performance hall in the Shanghai Grand Theatre. Into the center stage, where a scenic construction of a mountain cliff and a desert landscape was dimly lit, entered the character of the Daoist priest Wang Yuanlu (1849–1931), performed by Chen Yizong. Dressed in a worn and dusty outfit of dark blue cotton, characteristic of Daoist priests, Wang began to sweep the floor. After a few moments, he discovered a hidden chambre sealed inside one of the rock sanctuaries carved into the cliff.Signaled by the quick, crystalline, stirring wave of sound from the chimes, a melodious Chinese ocarina solo joined in slowly from the background. Astonished by thousands of Buddhist sūtra scrolls, wall paintings, and sculptures he had just accidentally discovered in the caves, Priest Wang set his broom aside and began to examine these treasures. Dawn had not yet arrived, and the desert sky was pitch-black. Priest Wang held his oil lamp high, strode rhythmically in excitement, sat crossed-legged in a meditative pose, and unfolded a scroll. The sound of the ocarina became fuller and richer and the texture of the music more complex, as several other instruments joined in.Below is the opening scene of the award-winning, theatrical dance-drama Dunhuang, My Dreamland, created by China’s state-sponsored Lanzhou Song and Dance Theatre in 2000. Figure 1a: Poster Side A of Dunhuang, My Dreamland Figure 1b: Poster Side B of Dunhuang, My DreamlandThe scene locates the dance-drama in the rock sanctuaries that today are known as the Dunhuang Mogao Caves, housing Buddhist art accumulated over a period of a thousand years, one of the best well-known UNESCO heritages on the Silk Road. Historically a frontier metropolis, Dunhuang was a strategic site along the Silk Road in northwestern China, a crossroads of trade, and a locus for religious, cultural, and intellectual influences since the Han dynasty (206 B.C.E.–220 C.E.). Travellers, especially Buddhist monks from India and central Asia, passing through Dunhuang on their way to Chang’an (present day Xi’an), China’s ancient capital, would stop to meditate in the Mogao Caves and consult manuscripts in the monastery's library. At the same time, Chinese pilgrims would travel by foot from China through central Asia to Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka, playing a key role in the exchanges between ancient China and the outside world. Travellers from China would stop to acquire provisions at Dunhuang before crossing the Gobi Desert to continue on their long journey abroad. Figure 2: Dunhuang Mogao CavesThis article approaches the idea of “abroad” by examining the present-day imagination of journeys along the Silk Road—specifically, staged performances of the various Silk Road journey-themed dance-dramas sponsored by the Chinese state for enhancing its cultural and foreign policies since the 1970s (Kuang).As ethnomusicologists have demonstrated, musicians, choreographers, and playwrights often utilise historical materials in their performances to construct connections between the past and the present (Bohlman; Herzfeld; Lam; Rees; Shelemay; Tuohy; Wade; Yung: Rawski; Watson). The ancient Silk Road, which linked the Mediterranean coast with central China and beyond, via oasis towns such as Samarkand, has long been associated with the concept of “journeying abroad.” Journeys to distant, foreign lands and encounters of unknown, mysterious cultures along the Silk Road have been documented in historical records, such as A Record of Buddhist Kingdoms (Faxian) and The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions (Xuanzang), and illustrated in classical literature, such as The Travels of Marco Polo (Polo) and the 16th century Chinese novel Journey to the West (Wu). These journeys—coming and going from multiple directions and to different destinations—have inspired contemporary staged performance for audiences around the globe.Home and Abroad: Dunhuang and the Silk RoadDunhuang, My Dreamland (2000), the contemporary dance-drama, staged the journey of a young pilgrim painter travelling from Chang’an to a land of the unfamiliar and beyond borders, in search for the arts that have inspired him. Figure 3: A scene from Dunhuang, My Dreamland showing the young pilgrim painter in the Gobi Desert on the ancient Silk RoadFar from his home, he ended his journey in Dunhuang, historically considered the northwestern periphery of China, well beyond Yangguan and Yumenguan, the bordering passes that separate China and foreign lands. Later scenes in Dunhuang, My Dreamland, portrayed through multiethnic music and dances, the dynamic interactions among merchants, cultural and religious envoys, warriors, and politicians that were making their own journey from abroad to China. The theatrical dance-drama presents a historically inspired, re-imagined vision of both “home” and “abroad” to its audiences as they watch the young painter travel along the Silk Road, across the Gobi Desert, arriving at his own ideal, artistic “homeland”, the Dunhuang Mogao Caves. Since his journey is ultimately a spiritual one, the conceptualisation of travelling “abroad” could also be perceived as “a journey home.”Staged more than four hundred times since it premiered in Beijing in April 2000, Dunhuang, My Dreamland is one of the top ten titles in China’s National Stage Project and one of the most successful theatrical dance-dramas ever produced in China. With revenue of more than thirty million renminbi (RMB), it ranks as the most profitable theatrical dance-drama ever produced in China, with a preproduction cost of six million RMB. The production team receives financial support from China’s Ministry of Culture for its “distinctive ethnic features,” and its “aim to promote traditional Chinese culture,” according to Xu Rong, an official in the Cultural Industry Department of the Ministry. Labeled an outstanding dance-drama of the Chinese nation, it aims to present domestic and international audiences with a vision of China as a historically multifaceted and cosmopolitan nation that has been in close contact with the outside world through the ancient Silk Road. Its production company has been on tour in selected cities throughout China and in countries abroad, including Austria, Spain, and France, literarily making the young pilgrim painter’s “journey along the Silk Road” a new journey abroad, off stage and in reality.Dunhuang, My Dreamland was not the first, nor is it the last, staged performances that portrays the Chinese re-imagination of “journeying abroad” along the ancient Silk Road. It was created as one of many versions of Dunhuang bihua yuewu, a genre of music, dance, and dramatic performances created in the early twentieth century and based primarily on artifacts excavated from the Mogao Caves (Kuang). “The Mogao Caves are the greatest repository of early Chinese art,” states Mimi Gates, who works to increase public awareness of the UNESCO site and raise funds toward its conservation. “Located on the Chinese end of the Silk Road, it also is the place where many cultures of the world intersected with one another, so you have Greek and Roman, Persian and Middle Eastern, Indian and Chinese cultures, all interacting. Given the nature of our world today, it is all very relevant” (Pollack). As an expressive art form, this genre has been thriving since the late 1970s contributing to the global imagination of China’s “Silk Road journeys abroad” long before Dunhuang, My Dreamland achieved its domestic and international fame. For instance, in 2004, The Thousand-Handed and Thousand-Eyed Avalokiteśvara—one of the most representative (and well-known) Dunhuang bihua yuewu programs—was staged as a part of the cultural program during the Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece. This performance, as well as other Dunhuang bihua yuewu dance programs was the perfect embodiment of a foreign religion that arrived in China from abroad and became Sinicized (Kuang). Figure 4: Mural from Dunhuang Mogao Cave No. 45A Brief History of Staging the Silk Road JourneysThe staging of the Silk Road journeys abroad began in the late 1970s. Historically, the Silk Road signifies a multiethnic, cosmopolitan frontier, which underwent incessant conflicts between Chinese sovereigns and nomadic peoples (as well as between other groups), but was strongly imbued with the customs and institutions of central China (Duan, Mair, Shi, Sima). In the twentieth century, when China was no longer an empire, but had become what the early 20th-century reformer Liang Qichao (1873–1929) called “a nation among nations,” the long history of the Silk Road and the colourful, legendary journeys abroad became instrumental in the formation of a modern Chinese nation of unified diversity rooted in an ancient cosmopolitan past. The staged Silk Road theme dance-dramas thus participate in this formation of the Chinese imagination of “nation” and “abroad,” as they aestheticise Chinese history and geography. History and geography—aspects commonly considered constituents of a nation as well as our conceptualisations of “abroad”—are “invariably aestheticized to a certain degree” (Bakhtin 208). Diverse historical and cultural elements from along the Silk Road come together in this performance genre, which can be considered the most representative of various possible stagings of the history and culture of the Silk Road journeys.In 1979, the Chinese state officials in Gansu Province commissioned the benchmark dance-drama Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road, a spectacular theatrical dance-drama praising the pure and noble friendship which existed between the peoples of China and other countries in the Tang dynasty (618-907 C.E.). While its plot also revolves around the Dunhuang Caves and the life of a painter, staged at one of the most critical turning points in modern Chinese history, the work as a whole aims to present the state’s intention of re-establishing diplomatic ties with the outside world after the Cultural Revolution. Unlike Dunhuang, My Dreamland, it presents a nation’s journey abroad and home. To accomplish this goal, Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road introduces the fictional character Yunus, a wealthy Persian merchant who provides the audiences a vision of the historical figure of Peroz III, the last Sassanian prince, who after the Arab conquest of Iran in 651 C.E., found refuge in China. By incorporating scenes of ethnic and folk dances, the drama then stages the journey of painter Zhang’s daughter Yingniang to Persia (present-day Iran) and later, Yunus’s journey abroad to the Tang dynasty imperial court as the Persian Empire’s envoy.Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road, since its debut at Beijing’s Great Hall of the People on the first of October 1979 and shortly after at the Theatre La Scala in Milan, has been staged in more than twenty countries and districts, including France, Italy, Japan, Thailand, Russia, Latvia, Hong Kong, Macao, Taiwan, and recently, in 2013, at the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York.“The Road”: Staging the Journey TodayWithin the contemporary context of global interdependencies, performing arts have been used as strategic devices for social mobilisation and as a means to represent and perform modern national histories and foreign policies (Davis, Rees, Tian, Tuohy, Wong, David Y. H. Wu). The Silk Road has been chosen as the basis for these state-sponsored, extravagantly produced, and internationally staged contemporary dance programs. In 2008, the welcoming ceremony and artistic presentation at the Olympic Games in Beijing featured twenty apsara dancers and a Dunhuang bihua yuewu dancer with long ribbons, whose body was suspended in mid-air on a rectangular LED extension held by hundreds of performers; on the giant LED screen was a depiction of the ancient Silk Road.In March 2013, Chinese president Xi Jinping introduced the initiatives “Silk Road Economic Belt” and “21st Century Maritime Silk Road” during his journeys abroad in Kazakhstan and Indonesia. These initiatives are now referred to as “One Belt, One Road.” The State Council lists in details the policies and implementation plans for this initiative on its official web page, www.gov.cn. In April 2013, the China Institute in New York launched a yearlong celebration, starting with "Dunhuang: Buddhist Art and the Gateway of the Silk Road" with a re-creation of one of the caves and a selection of artifacts from the site. In March 2015, the National Development and Reform Commission (NDRC), China’s top economic planning agency, released a new action plan outlining key details of the “One Belt, One Road” initiative. Xi Jinping has made the program a centrepiece of both his foreign and domestic economic policies. One of the central economic strategies is to promote cultural industry that could enhance trades along the Silk Road.Encouraged by the “One Belt, One Road” policies, in March 2016, The Silk Princess premiered in Xi’an and was staged at the National Centre for the Performing Arts in Beijing the following July. While Dunhuang, My Dreamland and Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road were inspired by the Buddhist art found in Dunhuang, The Silk Princess, based on a story about a princess bringing silk and silkworm-breeding skills to the western regions of China in the Tang Dynasty (618-907) has a different historical origin. The princess's story was portrayed in a woodblock from the Tang Dynasty discovered by Sir Marc Aurel Stein, a British archaeologist during his expedition to Xinjiang (now Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region) in the early 19th century, and in a temple mural discovered during a 2002 Chinese-Japanese expedition in the Dandanwulike region. Figure 5: Poster of The Silk PrincessIn January 2016, the Shannxi Provincial Song and Dance Troupe staged The Silk Road, a new theatrical dance-drama. Unlike Dunhuang, My Dreamland, the newly staged dance-drama “centers around the ‘road’ and the deepening relationship merchants and travellers developed with it as they traveled along its course,” said Director Yang Wei during an interview with the author. According to her, the show uses seven archetypes—a traveler, a guard, a messenger, and so on—to present the stories that took place along this historic route. Unbounded by specific space or time, each of these archetypes embodies the foreign-travel experience of a different group of individuals, in a manner that may well be related to the social actors of globalised culture and of transnationalism today. Figure 6: Poster of The Silk RoadConclusionAs seen in Rain of Flowers along the Silk Road and Dunhuang, My Dreamland, staging the processes of Silk Road journeys has become a way of connecting the Chinese imagination of “home” with the Chinese imagination of “abroad.” Staging a nation’s heritage abroad on contemporary stages invites a new imagination of homeland, borders, and transnationalism. Once aestheticised through staged performances, such as that of the Dunhuang bihua yuewu, the historical and topological landscape of Dunhuang becomes a performed narrative, embodying the national heritage.The staging of Silk Road journeys continues, and is being developed into various forms, from theatrical dance-drama to digital exhibitions such as the Smithsonian’s Pure Land: Inside the Mogao Grottes at Dunhuang (Stromberg) and the Getty’s Cave Temples of Dunhuang: Buddhist Art on China's Silk Road (Sivak and Hood). 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IntroductionIn this article, I set out to accomplish two tasks. The first is to map coffee and cafés in Mainland China in different historical periods. The second is to focus on coffee and cafés in the socio-cultural milieu of contemporary China in order to understand the symbolic value of the emerging coffee/café-scape. Cafés, rather than coffee, are at the centre of this current trend in contemporary Chinese cities. With instant coffee dominating as a drink, the Chinese have developed a cultural and social demand for cafés, but have not yet developed coffee palates. Historical Coffee Map In 1901, coffee was served in a restaurant in the city of Tianjin. This restaurant, named Kiessling, was run by a German chef, a former solider who came to China with the eight-nation alliance. At that time, coffee was reserved mostly for foreign politicians and military officials as well as wealthy businessmen—very few ordinary Chinese drank it. (For more history of Kiessling, including pictures and videos, see Kiessling). Another group of coffee consumers were from the cultural elites—the young revolutionary intellectuals and writers with overseas experience. It was almost a fashion among the literary elite to spend time in cafés. However, this was negatively judged as “Western” and “bourgeois.” For example, in 1932, Lu Xun, one of the most important twentieth century Chinese writers, commented on the café fashion during 1920s (133-36), and listed the reasons why he would not visit one. He did not drink coffee because it was “foreigners’ food”, and he was too busy writing for the kind of leisure enjoyed in cafés. Moreover, he did not, he wrote, have the nerve to go to a café, and particularly not the Revolutionary Café that was popular among cultural celebrities at that time. He claimed that the “paradise” of the café was for genius, and for handsome revolutionary writers (who he described as having red lips and white teeth, whereas his teeth were yellow). His final complaint was that even if he went to the Revolutionary Café, he would hesitate going in (Lu Xun 133-36). From Lu Xun’s list, we can recognise his nationalism and resistance to what were identified as Western foods and lifestyles. It is easy to also feel his dissatisfaction with those dilettante revolutionary intellectuals who spent time in cafés, talking and enjoying Western food, rather than working. In contrast to Lu Xun’s resistance to coffee and café culture, another well-known writer, Zhang Ailing, frequented cafés when she lived in Shanghai from the 1920s to 1950s. She wrote about the smell of cakes and bread sold in Kiessling’s branch store located right next to her parents’ house (Yuyue). Born into a wealthy family, exposed to Western culture and food at a very young age, Zhang Ailing liked to spend her social and writing time in cafés, ordering her favourite cakes, hot chocolate, and coffee. When she left Shanghai and immigrated to the USA, coffee was an important part of her writing life: the smell and taste reminding her of old friends and Shanghai (Chunzi). However, during Zhang’s time, it was still a privileged and elite practice to patronise a café when these were located in foreign settlements with foreign chefs, and served mainly foreigners, wealthy businessmen, and cultural celebrities. After 1949, when the Chinese Communist Party established the People’s Republic of China, until the late 1970s, there were no coffee shops in Mainland China. It was only when Deng Xiaoping suggested neo-liberalism as a so-called “reform-and-open-up” economic policy that foreign commerce and products were again seen in China. In 1988, ten years after the implementation of Deng Xiaoping’s policy, the Nestlé coffee company made the first inroads into the mainland market, featuring homegrown coffee beans in Yunnan province (China Beverage News; Dong; ITC). Nestlé’s bottled instant coffee found its way into the Chinese market, avoiding a direct challenge to the tea culture. Nestlé packaged its coffee to resemble health food products and marketed it as a holiday gift suitable for friends and relatives. As a symbol of modernity and “the West”, coffee-as-gift meshed with the traditional Chinese cultural custom that values gift giving. It also satisfied a collective desire for foreign products (and contact with foreign cultures) during the economic reform era. Even today, with its competitively low price, instant coffee dominates coffee consumption at home, in the workplace, and on Chinese airlines. While Nestlé aimed their product at native Chinese consumers, the multinational companies who later entered China’s coffee market, such as Sara Lee, mainly targeted international hotels such as IHG, Marriott, and Hyatt. The multinationals also favoured coffee shops like Kommune in Shanghai that offered more sophisticated kinds of coffee to foreign consumers and China’s upper class (Byers). If Nestlé introduced coffee to ordinary Chinese families, it was Starbucks who introduced the coffee-based “third space” to urban life in contemporary China on a signficant scale. Differing from the cafés before 1949, Starbucks stores are accessible to ordinary Chinese citizens. The first in Mainland China opened in Beijing’s China World Trade Center in January 1999, targeting mainly white-collar workers and foreigners. Starbucks coffee shops provide a space for informal business meetings, chatting with friends, and relaxing and, with its 500th store opened in 2011, dominate the field in China. Starbucks are located mainly in the central business districts and airports, and the company plans to have 1,500 sites by 2015 (Starbucks). Despite this massive presence, Starbucks constitutes only part of the café-scape in contemporary Chinese cities. There are two other kinds of cafés. One type is usually located in universities or residential areas and is frequented mainly by students or locals working in cultural professions. A representative of this kind is Sculpting in Time Café. In November 1997, two years before the opening of the first Starbucks in Beijing, two newlywed college graduates opened the first small Sculpting in Time Café near Beijing University’s East Gate. This has been expanded into a chain, and boasts 18 branches on the Mainland. (For more about its history, see Sculpting in Time Café). Interestingly, both Starbucks and Sculpting in Time Café acquired their names from literature, Starbucks from Moby Dick, and Sculpting in Time from the Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky’s film diary of the same name. For Chinese students of literature and the arts, drinking coffee is less about acquiring more energy to accomplish their work, and more about entering a sensual world, where the aroma of coffee mixes with the sounds from the coffee machine and music, as well as the lighting of the space. More importantly, cafés with this ambience become, in themselves, cultural sites associated with literature, films, and music. Owners of this kind of café are often lovers of foreign literatures, films, and cultures, and their cafés host various cultural events, including forums, book clubs, movie screenings, and music clubs. Generally speaking, coffee served in this kind of café is simpler than in the kind discussed below. This third type of café includes those located in tourist and entertainment sites such as art districts, bar areas, and historical sites, and which are frequented by foreign and native tourists, artists and other cultural workers. If Starbucks cultivates a fast-paced business/professional atmosphere, and Sculpting in Time Cafés an artsy and literary atmosphere, this third kind of café is more like an upscale “bar” with trained baristas serving complicated coffees and emphasising their flavour. These coffee shops are more expensive than the other kinds, with an average price three times that of Starbucks. Currently, cafés of this type are found only in “first-tier” cities and usually located in art districts and tourist areas—such as Beijing’s 798 Art District and Nanluo Guxiang, Shanghai’s Tai Kang Road (a.k.a. “the art street”), and Hangzhou’s Westlake area. While Nestlé and Starbucks use coffee beans grown in Yunnan provinces, these “art cafés” are more inclined to use imported coffee beans from suppliers like Sara Lee. Coffee and Cafés in Contemporary China After just ten years, there are hundreds of cafés in Chinese cities. Why has there been such a demand for coffee or, more accurately, cafés, in such a short period of time? The first reason is the lack of “third space” environments in Mainland China. Before cafés appeared in the late 1990s, stores like KFC (which opened its first store in 1987) and McDonald’s (with its first store opened in 1990) filled this role for urban residents, providing locations where customers could experience Western food, meet friends, work, or read. In fact, KFC and McDonald’s were once very popular with college students looking for a place to study. Both stores had relatively clean food environments and good lighting. They also had air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter, which are not provided in most Chinese university dormitories. However, since neither chain was set up to be a café and customers occupying seats for long periods while ordering minimal amounts of food or drink affected profits, staff members began to indirectly ask customers to leave after dining. At the same time, as more people were able to afford to eat at KFC and McDonald’s, their fast foods were also becoming more and more popular, especially among young people. As a consequence, both types of chain restaurant were becoming noisy and crowded and, thus, no longer ideal for reading, studying, or meeting with friends. Although tea has been a traditional drink in Chinese culture, traditional teahouses were expensive places more suitable for business meetings or for the cultural or intellectual elite. Since almost every family owns a tea set and can readily purchase tea, friends and family would usually make and consume tea at home. In recent years, however, new kinds of teahouses have emerged, similar in style to cafés, targeting the younger generation with more affordable prices and a wider range of choices, so the lack of a “third space” does not fully explain the café boom. Another factor affecting the popularity of cafés has been the development and uptake of Internet technology, including the increasing use of laptops and wireless Internet in recent years. The Internet has been available in China since the late 1990s, while computers and then laptops entered ordinary Chinese homes in the early twenty-first century. The IT industry has created not only a new field of research and production, but has also fostered new professions and demands. Particularly, in recent years in Mainland China, a new socially acceptable profession—freelancing in such areas as graphic design, photography, writing, film, music, and the fashion industry—has emerged. Most freelancers’ work is computer- and Internet-based. Cafés provide suitable working space, with wireless service, and the bonus of coffee that is, first of all, somatically stimulating. In addition, the emergence of the creative and cultural industries (which are supported by the Chinese government) has created work for these freelancers and, arguably, an increasing demand for café-based third spaces where such people can meet, talk and work. Furthermore, the flourishing of cafés in first-tier cities is part of the “aesthetic economy” (Lloyd 24) that caters to the making and selling of lifestyle experience. Alongside foreign restaurants, bars, galleries, and design firms, cafés contribute to city branding, and link a city to the global urban network. Cafés, like restaurants, galleries and bars, provide a space for the flow of global commodities, as well as for the human flow of tourists, travelling artists, freelancers, and cultural specialists. Finally, cafés provide a type of service that contributes to friendly owner/waiter-customer relations. During the planned-economy era, most stores and hotels in China were State-owned, staff salaries were not related to individual performance, and indifferent (and even unfriendly) service was common. During the economic reform era, privately owned stores and shops began to replace State-owned ones. At the same time, a large number of people from the countryside flowed into the cities seeking opportunities. Most had little if any professional training and so could only find work in factories or in the service industry. However, most café employees are urban, with better educational backgrounds, and many were already familiar with coffee culture. In addition, café owners, particularly those of places like Sculpting in Time Cafe, often invest in creating a positive, community atmosphere, learning about their customers and sharing personal experiences with their regular clients. This leads to my next point—the generation of the 1980s’ need for a social community. Cafés’ Symbolic Value—Community A demand for a sense of community among the generation of the 1980s is a unique socio-cultural phenomenon in China, which paradoxically co-exists with their desire for individualism. Mao Zedong started the “One Child Policy” in 1979 to slow the rapid population growth in China, and the generations born under this policy are often called “the lonely generations,” with both parents working full-time. At the same time, they are “the generation of me,” labelled as spoiled, self-centred, and obsessed with consumption (de Kloet; Liu; Rofel; Wang). The individuals of this generation, now aged in their 20s and 30s, constitute the primary consumers of coffee in China. Whereas individualism is an important value to them, a sense of community is also desirable in order to compensate for their lack of siblings. Furthermore, the 1980s’ generation has also benefitted from the university expansion policy implemented in 1999. Since then, China has witnessed a surge of university students and graduates who not only received scientific and other course-based knowledge, but also had a better chance to be exposed to foreign cultures through their books, music, and movies. With this interesting tension between individualism and collectivism, the atmosphere provided by cafés has fostered a series of curious temporary communities built on cultural and culinary taste. Interestingly, it has become an aspiration of many young college students and graduates to open a community-space style café in a city. One of the best examples is the new Henduoren’s (Many People’s) Café. This was a project initiated by Wen Erniu, a recent college graduate who wanted to open a café in Beijing but did not have sufficient funds to do so. She posted a message on the Internet, asking people to invest a minimum of US$316 to open a café with her. With 78 investors, the café opened in September 2011 in Beijing (see pictures of Henduoren’s Café). In an interview with the China Daily, Wen Erniu stated that, “To open a cafe was a dream of mine, but I could not afford it […] We thought opening a cafe might be many people’s dream […] and we could get together via the Internet to make it come true” (quoted in Liu 2011). Conclusion: Café Culture and (Instant) Coffee in China There is a Chinese saying that, if you hate someone—just persuade him or her to open a coffee shop. Since cafés provide spaces where one can spend a relatively long time for little financial outlay, owners have to increase prices to cover their expenses. This can result in fewer customers. In retaliation, cafés—particularly those with cultural and literary ambience—host cultural events to attract people, and/or they offer food and wine along with coffee. The high prices, however, remain. In fact, the average price of coffee in China is often higher than in Europe and North America. For example, a medium Starbucks’ caffè latte in China averaged around US$4.40 in 2010, according to the price list of a Starbucks outlet in Shanghai—and the prices has recently increased again (Xinhua 2012). This partially explains why instant coffee is still so popular in China. A bag of instant Nestlé coffee cost only some US$0.25 in a Beijing supermarket in 2010, and requires only hot water, which is accessible free almost everywhere in China, in any restaurant, office building, or household. As an habitual, addictive treat, however, coffee has not yet become a customary, let alone necessary, drink for most Chinese. Moreover, while many, especially those of the older generations, could discern the quality and varieties of tea, very few can judge the quality of the coffee served in cafés. As a result, few Mainland Chinese coffee consumers have a purely somatic demand for coffee—craving its smell or taste—and the highly sweetened and creamed instant coffee offered by companies like Nestlé or Maxwell has largely shaped the current Chinese palate for coffee. Ben Highmore has proposed that “food spaces (shops, restaurants and so on) can be seen, for some social agents, as a potential space where new ‘not-me’ worlds are encountered” (396) He continues to expand that “how these potential spaces are negotiated—the various affective registers of experience (joy, aggression, fear)—reflect the multicultural shapes of a culture (its racism, its openness, its acceptance of difference)” (396). Cafés in contemporary China provide spaces where one encounters and constructs new “not-me” worlds, and more importantly, new “with-me” worlds. While café-going communicates an appreciation and desire for new lifestyles and new selves, it can be hoped that in the near future, coffee will also be appreciated for its smell, taste, and other benefits. Of course, it is also necessary that future Chinese coffee consumers also recognise the rich and complex cultural, political, and social issues behind the coffee economy in the era of globalisation. 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