The Chinese-Style Kinship in "Notes from the Projecting Pavilion": Asking Only "Are You Cold?" but Not "Are You in Pain?"

Life is often sustained by fleeting moments. In "Notes from the Projecting Pavilion," although Gu Ying does not explicitly express his sorrow, it is clear that his life has been marked by bitterness. His daily study space, the Projecting Pavilion, is a mere square meter, dilapidated and leaking. His once-illustrious family has declined, with uncles setting up separate kitchens and the house divided by numerous small doors and partitions. His closest relatives have passed away—his mother died when he was young, his grandmother is no longer alive, and his wife, who used to discuss ancient matters and study with him in the pavilion, accompanied him for only six short years. He often sits alone, his loneliness and solitude ever-present.

However, what Gu Ying writes about is not the coldness and hardships of life, but the warmth and beauty hidden in his memories. He seems to want to tell us that despite the sorrows of life, there are warm moments that can soothe the present bleakness and protect against the world's uncertainties and hardships. Those memories of warmth, brief interactions with others, did indeed illuminate Gu Ying's lonely life. But behind his carefully crafted words and narratives lies a struggle for survival resources within the family and a calculating utilitarianism, as well as an invisible emotional burden disguised as kinship care. The care and warmth that Gu Ying repeatedly mentions are not unconditional; they bring emotional debt, obligatory bonds, and even the pain of love.

"Separate Kitchens": Claiming "Family Harmony" but Prioritizing Self-Interest

When Gu Ying mentions "separate kitchens" in "Notes from the Projecting Pavilion," he appears to merely state the facts without revealing his feelings. However, between the lines, we can sense his loss and pain. Confucianism has always advocated for the ethical concept of "living together and sharing wealth," a rational plan under the small peasant economy model. Family members work together, support each other, and thus resist natural disasters and human-caused calamities. Traditional Chinese society values the four-generation household, where the ethics of "filial piety" and "harmony" are highly regarded and even elevated to a moral level. If someone tries to disrupt this seemingly close-knit community, they are criticized as "unfilial," which is akin to a moral condemnation in this ethical environment.

Just like the Su family in the TV drama "All is Well," where everyone claims "everything is fine," but underneath, the family is riddled with problems. The surface "harmony" comes at the expense of individual needs, concealing internal cracks. The Su family's so-called "harmony" is built on the exploitation of Su Mingyu, with resource competition and interest exchanges left unspoken. In essence, "family harmony leads to prosperity" is often a desperate measure for the weak to survive and support each other. The act of "splitting the family" is fundamentally a rational choice for survival. When resources like land are limited, the ethics of "living together and sharing wealth" become unsustainable. The main reason for the Gu family's "separate kitchens" was "insufficient land" (Gu's Family Genealogy), a forced and reluctant choice.

The original layout of the Gu family's space was "a courtyard connecting north and south," with "rooms on the west connected to the central chamber." This unity and connection turned into numerous small doors and partitions after the uncles split the family, indicating their emotional drift. "Guests pass through the kitchen to dine, and chickens roost in the hall," because of the many small doors and partitions, guests had to pass through the kitchen to eat, and chickens roosted freely in the hall. "The courtyard first had a fence, then a wall, changing twice," these physical changes and disorder foreshadowed the disintegration of the family community.

Why Does Family "Care" Make One Want to Escape?

Gu Ying's warm memories of home come from mundane daily details, typical experiences for many who grew up in Chinese families. His mother would knock on the door and ask, "Are you cold? Do you want something to eat?" though she never directly expressed her love, her care was evident in these small daily actions. His grandmother gave him an ivory tablet, saying, "This was held by our ancestor, the Minister of Rites, during the Xuande period. One day, you will use it," expressing her high expectations for him. His wife would visit the pavilion, discussing ancient matters and studying with him, her companionship a bright spot in his long, arduous days of study.

But what goes unsaid? When his mother asks, "Are you cold?" she doesn't ask, "Are you in pain?" She only cares about his physical comfort, ignoring his emotional pain, a common dynamic in Chinese parent-child relationships. "Chinese-style kinship impedes children's independence through 'womb-ification,' creating a lifelong emotional debt" (Sun Lung-kee, "The Deep Structure of Chinese Culture"). This "womb-ification" refers to excessive care, and the "Are you cold?" type of care in traditional Chinese families creates a lifelong emotional debt for children. When parents say they are doing something "for your own good," they expect future repayment and return from their children. The phrase "raising children to provide for old age" embodies the utilitarian calculation of kinship.

Why Do Chinese Children Always Feel "Guilty"?

Parents use "sacrifice" to bind their children, making them act according to their wishes. Gu Ying's repeated failures in the imperial examinations yet continued attempts stem from a "guilt" rooted in the family's narrative of sacrifice, forcing him to comply. "Chinese families replace individual independence with ethical relationships, with filial piety and parental love concealing power and duty exchanges" (Liang Shuming, "Essentials of Chinese Culture"). His grandmother's gifting of the ivory tablet was both an expression of her hopes for his success and a burden of obligation to "bring honor to the ancestors." Gu Ying had to spend his life repaying this emotional debt, enduring the spiritual anxiety of failure and self-doubt from repeated examination attempts. He was bound by a sense of failure and guilt, unable to escape.

Unlike Western families, which are centered around the spousal relationship, Chinese families are centered around the parent-child relationship, emphasizing blood and kinship ties. This explains the strong family consciousness and importance of kinship ethics in Chinese culture. However, while Chinese-style kinship provides a sense of security, it also suppresses individual life choices. If Gu Ying did not have to repay emotional debts or fulfill the obligation to "bring honor to the ancestors," if he could make his own life choices independently, perhaps his life would have been freer and happier.