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Seeing Volodymyr Zelensky’s series of admirable heroic acts—absolutely genuine heroism without quotation marks—one cannot help but be moved: He shouted, “I need ammunition, not a ride,” when Russian tanks were 50 kilometers away and the United States offered to help him evacuate; he grabbed a rifle and rushed to the door when Russian forces were just over 20 meters from the presidential palace, amidst the chaos of his entire guard; he carried a rifle into the trenches to defend alongside his soldiers. All these actions define President Zelensky as a true tough guy and hero!

Yet, this larger-than-life hero, who disregards life and death, is judged and criticized by some using the cowardly standards of pragmatism, which fills one with an inexplicable sorrow. When a tragic hero, willing to sacrifice everything for his country, is commented on by petty individuals sipping beer and puffing cigarettes—pointing fingers and saying this isn’t right, that isn’t good—it’s not just Zelensky’s plight as a tragic hero; it’s the shared fate of nearly all tragic heroes today. When this happens, society has reached its end, and the great calamity awaiting humanity becomes an inevitable destiny. For at this moment, humanity has utterly lost its claim to be the pinnacle of all creation.

This brings to mind the bold and spirited Summer Quatrain by Li Qingzhao, a leading figure of the婉约 (delicate) school of poetry, whose work here is anything but delicate: “Alive, be a hero among men; dead, be a titan among ghosts. Even now, I think of Xiang Yu, who refused to cross the river east.” Li Qingzhao didn’t use the success-driven standards of today’s Chinese men to praise Liu Bang (Liu the Third), but instead extolled the heroic integrity of a “failed” figure like Xiang Yu, akin to Zelensky. This reflects the brilliance of China’s great women. Leaving aside warrior heroines like Hua Mulan or Mu Guiying, even delicate figures like Lady Huarui, Li Qingzhao, and Li Xiangjun—how many men can compare to their purity and chivalry?

Lady Huarui wrote, “One hundred forty thousand men all shed their armor, and not one among them is a man”; Li Qingzhao penned, “Even now, I think of Xiang Yu, who refused to cross the river east”; and most earth-shaking of all is Li Xiangjun, one of the famed Eight Beauties of Qinhuai, a courtesan who, upon hearing that her lover Hou Fangyu (one of the three great literary masters of the late Ming dynasty) had abandoned his principles and surrendered to the Qing amid national collapse, cried to the heavens: “Even if I borrowed all the waters of the West River, I could not wash away the shame on my face today.” Her voice shook the skies, echoing through the ages. The unbroken spirit of the Chinese nation, enduring countless tribulations, owes much to the lifeblood of such extraordinary women. They judged men solely by the measure of their integrity, heedless of worldly success or failure.

If Chinese men possessed even a fraction of their spirit, the mighty wind of the Han dynasty would still roar today. There would be no “Sick Man of East Asia,” no national inferiority complex, and certainly no near extinctions of our people time and again! Alas, the “Oriental wisdom” scorned by Li Yuhe—“those who adapt to the times are the wise”—has seeped into the marrow of Chinese men, becoming part of their very genes. As a result, China, despite possessing nuclear weapons and the world’s most advanced cutting-edge technology, cannot achieve national reunification. Even a half-evolved, insignificant country like Australia dares to send warships to freely navigate the South China Sea.

If extraordinary women like Lady Huarui, Li Qingzhao, and Li Xiangjun—beautiful inside and out—were alive today, one wonders how they would view the Chinese men of this era.

March 15, 2025

Related Reading: From Comedian to “Tough Guy” President: Is Zelensky’s “Heroism” Ukraine’s Salvation or Its Catastrophe?