A Nation Mourns — Remembering Mr. Zhang Xiaotong
He has gone, and the Chinese-medicine world has lost a giant. On learning of Mr. Zhang Xiaotong's passing, tens of thousands grieved alongside us — family and friends, patients, specialists, and those who love Chinese medicine — and messages of remembrance poured in.
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The master of Pingxintang has ridden the crane away,
and the apricot forest (the Chinese-medicine world) has lost a worthy one.
A whole life spent spreading the Chinese-medical way,
a life offered up in the warm season of spring.
A compassionate heart saved the world, and its wind reaches far;
skilled hands restored life, and their art is passed down.
Where shall we seek his immortal trace today?
Only the remembrance circles in the heart.
In remembering Mr. Zhang, though we never met,
we have long looked up to Minister Cui and to Mr. Zhang for their great virtue and kindness.
— Luoyang Cui Shuo TCM Clinic
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In Memory of Mr. Zhang Xiaotong
To revive Chinese medicine your aspiration never faltered,
calling and striving, never in sorrow.
You grieved at the thinning of the talent,
spending body and mind on the long horizon.
Your legacy remains and works its influence,
and the signs are warming our hearts.
New young hands are joining the line of transmission;
the flourishing age will come — your wish fulfilled.
Mr. Zhang's noble name stands in eternity;
his moral example stays with time.
— Shanxi Dashanzhai TCM Clinic
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Lament for Mr. Zhang Xiaotong
Startled to hear the star has fallen, my heart is pierced.
The son carries the father's will into radiance.
He gave up official position and gave his blood;
built a clinic where the morning light shines.
Inside Pingxintang his art of care is displayed;
on the road of medical study his virtuous name rises high.
His cries of advocacy are endless in my ears;
the savior's legacy stands for ten thousand ages.
Evening of February 19, 2025
— Wang Yanlong TCM Clinic (Wang Gui Traditional Transmission Room), Jiangzhang Street, Fufeng County, Shaanxi Province
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In mourning for Mr. Zhang Xiaotong
Sincere service carries forward the father's aspiration; Pingxintang gathers the worthy physicians.
The Yueli Award lifts the healer's way; classic exegesis traces back to the source.
Heart poured out to revive Qi-Huang, upholding the true and rejecting Western drift.
Bowed down and spent, gone after service fulfilled; a clean, spare bearing that lights the world.
Mr. Zhang Xiaotong, walk well on the road ahead!
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At the start of the yisi year, at the festival of Rain-Water, the strings of the stars break, and the sun of day grows dim.
Master Zhang — elder of the physician's way — today rides the crane into immortality, leaves the red dust behind.
For the whole of his life, Master Zhang hung the gourd and met the hard times. He held to the classical physicians' Great Sincerity, displayed the power of Qi-Huang, took hold of the apricot-forest's lead, and carried forward the handiwork of the ancestors.
His early years were bitter, his beginning thorny and rough. He went to Jinzhou to answer the call; he went down to the Left Banner to give himself over. He endured ten thousand difficulties, passed through a hundred trades — answering exactly the words of the sage: "Heaven will send great charge to this one."
He gave his whole heart and his whole strength, weeping blood at his task. He took up the mantle of the past sages, carried forward the inheritance of the Qin-Hua. He used the family's means without stinting, uncaring for himself. He raised a great hall to shelter all the poor scholars of the world; he named it Pingxintang to set the standard of medical ethics in our age.
He left generosity and kindness everywhere he went, the fragrance lingers long. He worried that there was no one to follow after; he feared the old and new generations would not meet. His eyes flashed like a sword — he resisted the Westernization that assailed Chinese medicine. His foundation stood firm as bedrock — he guarded to the root of the ancestral way. Though ten thousand pointed fingers at him, he fixed his brows and met the cold stare; though the people suffered, his heart ached day and night.
Master Zhang was always generous and warm, loving all. Generous to the men of worth, with the sincere gesture of buying bones of a fine horse (so the living would come); frugal in his own life, with the spare spirit of Ji Wenzi of old. His virtue covered the four seas; his blessing reached the nine regions.
Today Master Zhang leaves the world and goes to the immortals — he answers the appointment of the yellow springs. We who follow — like a great banner fallen, like a mountain collapsed. The five organs are in flame; the six spirits know no master. We think again and again of the past, remembering Confucius and Yan's calm harmony; we look back, remembering the warm kindness of Cheng and Yang.
A great star has fallen; a white rainbow pierces the sun; the heavens crack open; the earth's veins freeze over.
We can only hope that below in Fengdu, the brave soul can close his eyes; and after the six paths, the immortal spirit rests in peace.
The departed is gone; the living must press on. We take up the bearing-of-the-ancestors and continue the journey of our teacher.
Master Zhang above, your followers bow. We pray to our ancestors, to the gods and Buddhas, to protect the fortunes of the nation; we pray to the sages and immortals to bless Chinese medicine.
Alas! What sorrow! May he, bowed down, accept this offering.
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Mr. Zhang came from a distinguished family, but his name was not known because he was the son of Minister Cui Yueli. It was known because of his tireless cry — for the development of Chinese medicine, for the rising of Chinese medicine.
He was the standard-bearer of the Chinese-medicine world — and the banner itself of its revival. He was the guardian of that revival — and the defender of its culture. He was a pioneer of privately-run Chinese medicine, who turned the patient's wish of "face-to-face with a master physician in the capital" from luxury to simple possibility.
He has gone, and the Chinese-medicine world has lost a giant. He has gone, but the spiritual legacy he leaves behind is precious beyond measure. Every step of his calling-and-striving was compressed reverence for the tradition. What he gave to Chinese medicine was of the first importance. Even with his life on the table, he still called out in his raw voice: to save Chinese medicine brooks no delay; Chinese medicine is the future of humankind.
His life is a microcosm of the transmission of Chinese medicine — an epic-scale documentary.
As Minister Cui Yueli's son, you were low-key, solid, with feet planted on the earth. You invited celebrated physicians from across the country, and turned Beijing Pingxintang into a sacred hall of Chinese medical learning — a terminal station for the difficult-and-severe cases that patients long for, a platform where the nation's celebrated Chinese physicians transmit their arts.
The Meditations on Chinese Medicine (《中醫沉思錄》) you edited — every word, every sentence — call out for the transmission and development of Chinese medicine; every chapter, every section, offers counsel for the problem of the thinning talent-pool and the shortage of successors, pouring your heart's blood into it.
Mr. Zhang — for all ages!
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In my heart, Mr. Zhang Xiaotong ran himself to the bone for Chinese medicine's revival, ached in his heart at the thinning of the talent, and gave his all to the cause. Mercifully, in all these years, under Mr. Zhang's influence, the momentum of Chinese medicine is turning: more and more people are beginning to love it and study it; many outstanding young people have joined the ranks of its transmission and renewal; more and more are speaking up for it and spreading its culture. Chinese medicine has hope, has a future. I believe there will be a day when we can say: "This flourishing age is as you wished." Mr. Zhang — for all ages!
— A steadfast Chinese-medicine enthusiast
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Shocked to hear that Mr. Zhang Xiaotong, founder of Beijing Pingxintang, has suddenly left us, grief is beyond words. For his whole life Mr. Zhang held Qi-Huang close to his heart — hanging the gourd and saving the world — guarding the soul of Chinese medicine with a pure heart. Though he has ridden the crane to the west, his compassionate heart, his refined art, his high and clear character must long remain in the apricot forest, a light for those who come after.
Mr. Zhang came from a Chinese-medicine family, took up his father's unfinished will, and made the revival of Chinese medicine his own charge. In his early years, starting from nothing, he founded Pingxintang in the midst of difficulty — unshackled by name or profit — wishing only "to practice medicine with an even heart, and to save people with compassion." Mr. Zhang understood that Chinese medicine is a jewel of Chinese civilization. So for decades on end he visited master physicians, organized the classical texts, trained successors — by one man's force he kept the transmission of an endangered Chinese medicine alive. Inside Pingxintang, Mr. Zhang and his colleagues refined the classical formulas, restored life with skilled hands, let countless patients with long-standing illness be reborn, and let the world see the truth of Chinese medicine's "simple, convenient, effective, inexpensive."
His character, above all, commands the respect of those who come after. Faced with the tide of "Chinese-medicine Westernization," Mr. Zhang was pained to the core, and cried out: "The root of Chinese medicine is in the classics; the soul of Chinese medicine is in bianzheng (differential diagnosis)." He stood firm for the preservation of Chinese medicine's character. His words were as a great bell and drum — shaking awake the deaf; his action was as a lamp in dark night — showing the way. Mr. Zhang once said: "Chinese medicine declines when people's hearts lose the old ways; Chinese medicine rises when the flame is passed hand to hand." Though Mr. Zhang has passed, his teaching words remain in our ears; his every phrase is carved into our hearts.
His passing is as a star falling in the apricot forest — rivers and mountains grieve together. But the life-blood of Mr. Zhang has long since turned into ten thousand embers of flame: the fragrance of medicine still fills Pingxintang; in its consulting rooms, those who come after still follow Mr. Zhang's diagnostic method; his commentaries in the classical texts are still fresh in ink… all of these are his life continued. We Chinese-medicine enthusiasts should take him as our model — read the classics, seek out the wise teachers, practice in the clinic — so that the pulse of Chinese medicine keeps beating.
Mr. Zhang's bearing is high as mountains, long as rivers. Mr. Zhang's aspiration we carry together.
May Mr. Zhang rest in peace; may Chinese medicine not die; may the spirit endure!
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Mr. Zhang Xiaotong spent his life calling out and striving for the development of Chinese medicine, giving his heart's blood, wagering even his life — and he gathered countless Chinese-medicine people into a single flame. We believe there will come a day when, as he wished, Chinese medicine will burn bright in every corner of this land.
Pingxintang will carry forward Mr. Zhang Xiaotong's unfinished aspiration — and carry on Minister Cui's unfinished wish, that Chinese medicine should serve the people of the whole world.