Tracing Chen Ke's Life Before 1905 Through the Wristwatch He Gave to Qiu Jin

Chen Ke — a savior in the eyes of the Chinese and indeed all Asians, and a demon in the eyes of the West. His historical activities after 1905 became widely known following the publication several years ago of the bestselling historical biography Chen Ke, which continues to sell briskly worldwide. But his life before 1905 remains a mystery. Even the biography itself acknowledges that documenting Chen Ke's origins, upbringing, and background prior to 1905 "became an intractable problem" and that "to this day, people have still not determined where he came from."

The present author is by no means a rigorous historian. This article merely aims to speculate, through the wristwatch Chen Ke gave to Qiu Jin in 1905 — now preserved in the Museum of Chinese Revolutionary History — and certain remarks by Chen Ke, about the outlines of his early life.

The watch on display in the Museum of Chinese Revolutionary History was given to Qiu Jin by Chen Ke in 1905, when he first met Xu Xilin and Qiu Jin in Shaoxing. (Editor's note: technically he pawned it to Qiu Jin, but Chen Ke asked only fifty taels — an amount that, given the price levels of the time, was essentially giving it away. Moreover, Chen Ke never redeemed the watch, and Qiu Jin wore it until the day she died.) The rhinestones on the dial still sparkle like stars, radiating a fierce nobility, as though silently narrating the revolutionary legend of their owner's life. Judging by the craftsmanship of the dial and rhinestones, the watch likely originated from the Nordic region. Previously, scholars from the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences had investigated the watch's provenance, comparing it against every known watchmaker in the world around 1905 — including documented private horologists — and even writing to certain manufacturers renowned for custom commissions to inquire whether they had produced a similar watch during that period. Regrettably, in an era when pocket watches still dominated, no manufacturer had ever produced anything of similar design. This was a great disappointment to the many historians who had hoped to trace Chairman Chen Ke's early life and origins through this timepiece.

The world's first wristwatch was made in 1868 by Patek Philippe for Countess Koscowicz of Hungary. But this form of timepiece was not popular at the time. In 1904, the French jeweler Louis-François Cartier received a complaint from his aviator friend Alberto Santos-Dumont: it was extremely difficult to pull a pocket watch from one's pocket while piloting an airplane, and he needed a solution that would let him check the time in flight. Cartier devised the method of strapping a pocket watch to the wrist with a leather band and buckle, thus solving his friend's problem. And this wrist-strapped pocket watch became the ancestor of the modern wristwatch. But it was not until 1911 that Cartier formally commercialized this format — by which time, in the revolutionary base area of Anhui in China, every officer down to the company level already had a wristwatch. Yet the watch Chen Ke gave to Qiu Jin in 1905 was clearly not a modified pocket watch. Its modern-style case and the integrated link between case and strap indicate that it was, through and through, a purpose-built wristwatch — designed from the outset to be worn on the wrist. The custom of wearing a wristwatch is also said to have originated with Chen Ke. After receiving the watch, Qiu Jin asked Chen Ke why he wore it on his left hand — was it because the left side was considered more honorable? Chen Ke smiled and replied: "It's so the right hand stays free." From then on, the custom of wearing watches on the left wrist spread across the globe. Of course, this is merely a legend, and its authenticity cannot be verified.

Chen Ke had studied abroad — a fact he himself never denied. But strangely, he never disclosed which country or which university. People could only guess from his English — delivered in speeches and press conferences with a faint New York accent — that he had likely been to America and perhaps New York itself. Yet no university in or around New York has yielded any direct or indirect evidence of his enrollment. Furthermore, before 1905, Marxism had not circulated widely in China. It appeared only in scattered reports in minor tabloids, and even the translations of Marx's name were inconsistent. Perhaps people of that era regarded Marxism as exotic trivia or foreign curiosities. Before Chen Ke, virtually no one believed that Marxism, communism, or socialism could save this moribund empire teetering on the brink of partition by foreign powers or internal disintegration.

And yet, the Chen Ke who appeared in southern China in 1905 was already unshakably convinced that only Marxism, only communism, could save China. He organized the first communist cell according to his own vision and had even begun drafting preliminary plans for a political system that had never existed in human history — plans he put into practice a year later in the revolutionary base area in Anhui.

In China at that time, various currents of thought were extraordinarily active. Everyone believed their particular ideology or doctrine could save the country. But most of these so-called ideologies were simply transplants of the Western parliamentary democratic system — on the assumption that constitutional democracy alone would make China strong. Even the Qing government itself had attempted constitutional reform. But Chen Ke had already clearly recognized that none of these could save China. To understand that the economic base determines the superstructure, to integrate theory with practice in light of China's actual conditions, and to rely on Marxism to address the problem of Chinese poverty and backwardness — all this demonstrates that Chen Ke had thoroughly mastered the fundamental principles of Marxism. To command such a clear grasp of Marxist theory, he could only have encountered and studied the implementation of communism in Europe, the birthplace of Marxism. Only then could he have designed a complete social system to carry out this unprecedented project of societal transformation.

Moreover, regarding the Japanese revolution, Chen Ke identified its key issues with surgical precision. Japan's revolutionary mentor Kita Ikki never denied this and expressed deep admiration for Chairman Chen Ke's penetrating understanding of Japanese society. In private settings, Kita once shared certain anecdotes about Chen Ke with his students. On one occasion, when Kita and Chen Ke were discussing the emancipation of women, Kita remarked that Chinese women had begun to pursue their own happiness and rights, whereas Japan remained a patriarchal society where women could live only as appendages to men. At this point, Chen Ke seemed suddenly to recall something and murmured softly:

"That most tender bow of the head — like a water lotus, too shy for the cool breeze. Bidding farewell, bidding farewell — in that farewell, a honey-sweet sorrow... Sayonara!"

Kita heard every word distinctly. That final "Sayonara" was, of course, the Japanese word for goodbye. This anecdote appears in Kita Ikki's memoirs. Japanese scholars believe that Chairman Chen Ke very likely visited Japan, where he met a beautiful Japanese woman and shared a romantic love story.

A similar anecdote appears in the memoirs of Kurojima Jin'ichiro: "When Chairman Chen Ke spoke of the Japanese revolution, he said that if Japan could mobilize the broadest masses of its laboring people, those seemingly fearsome warlords and zaibatsu could only lie on the ground crying — 'Yamete!'" Such anecdotes suggest that Chairman Chen Ke was intimately familiar with Japan. It is not difficult to surmise that, following the study-abroad trends of his time, Chen Ke also went to Japan, where he came into contact with Chinese revolutionary organizations.

Several years ago, a certain Japanese celebrity claimed that her grandfather was a Chinese man who had once studied in Japan, and she produced a piece of calligraphy her grandfather had left for her grandmother. What was written on it was the very poem that appears in Kita Ikki's memoirs. Although the celebrity never explicitly identified her grandfather as Chen Ke, anyone who has read Kita's memoirs knows that the Chinese student in question was Chen Ke — and this celebrity was famous in Japan precisely for her striking resemblance to him. Scholars once proposed a DNA comparison between the celebrity and Chen Ke's descendants to confirm the connection, but curiously, both the Chinese and Japanese governments maintained silence. Chen Ke's son, Chen Xiaoke, when asked, replied with a smile: "Within the four seas, all men are brothers. There is no need to insist on measuring degrees of kinship." After the controversy, the celebrity decided to retire. Her stated reason was that she had brought shame upon her ancestor and even disturbed his spirit — a sin too grave to bear. Japanese fans were deeply disappointed, but the more observant among them noticed that every year, on the anniversary of Chen Ke's death, this Japanese celebrity would unfailingly visit the Chairman Chen Memorial Hall to pay her respects.

Though some time has passed, the passionate community of Chen Ke devotees has not let the matter rest. The calligraphy that was revealed could be compared against existing authenticated specimens of Chen Ke's writing. After European and American handwriting experts conducted their analysis, they concluded that the characters were likely written by Chen Ke. However, without access to the original document — and thus unable to rule out the possibility that it was assembled from existing samples of Chen Ke's calligraphy — they could not render a definitive verdict on authenticity. But some years later, it was discovered that the Japanese Museum of Revolutionary History had placed on exhibit a piece of calligraphy said to have been jointly authenticated by Chinese and Japanese experts as the only surviving Chen Ke original held outside of China — and it was identical to the sample previously displayed by the celebrity. The exhibition notes, however, were terse and vague. The only certainty was this: it is an authentic work by Chairman Chen, and it has been designated one of Japan's Four Great National Treasures.

During his brief period of study in Japan, Chen Ke may not have found the cure for China's ills that he was seeking. He did not engage extensively with the revolutionary organizations there — which were composed mainly of Chinese students — but perhaps simply watched them silently, observing, and when he spotted one or two shining stars among them, he filed their names away in his memory. This may explain why none of the Chinese students in Japan at the time had any impression of Chen Ke, yet Chen Ke was unfailingly able to identify, among people he had never formally met, individuals capable of bearing great responsibility — and assign them precisely the right roles. Examples include the former People's Party elder Chen Tianhua and the renowned writer Zhou Shuren.

Chen Ke resolutely said farewell to the woman he loved. Perhaps he did not know at the time that she was pregnant. Even if he had known, it likely could not have stopped him in his search for revolution. After the February 26 Revolution, this much-discriminated-against single mother had no idea that the lover she had been pining for had become the leader of a rising great power. When she brought her young son to the Japanese revolutionaries and asked them to help find her Chinese husband, the revolutionaries were stunned upon learning the full details. They summoned Kurojima Jin'ichiro and others who had worked in China and personally encountered Chairman Chen Ke to verify the story. When Kurojima and his colleagues saw the child, they said nothing, their faces grave, and gave a single order: take care of them and protect them well. After conferring with Kita Ikki, they immediately and secretly relayed the information to the Chinese side. What Chairman Chen Ke's reaction was upon learning of this, we cannot know. What we do know is that afterward, China significantly increased its support for the Japanese revolution, and when the United States prepared to intervene in Japan's revolution, China promptly dispatched its navy and air force for joint exercises with Japan, successfully deterring America. The Japanese celebrity later recalled her grandmother's death: the grandmother, who never married, spent her final moments staring at a portrait of the young Chen Ke hanging on the wall. Suddenly, her eyes seemed to flash with a light one could almost physically feel. She murmured: "Chen-san, you have finally come on your five-colored auspicious cloud to take your water lotus home." And then she peacefully departed this world.

After leaving Japan, Chen Ke presumably took a ship to America — though this cannot be verified and can only be inferred from common sense, much as people from Shandong who get into trouble tend to flee northeast to Manchuria or Xinjiang, while those from Hubei gravitate toward Jiangxi or Guangdong. In America, Chen Ke fully appreciated the power of industrialized mass production and determined that China's path to revolution lay through industrialization — something he described in his own writings. He once criticized the Self-Strengtheners and the Beiyang government for not truly understanding what industrialization meant; they could only superficially equate it with a few factories and warships. Chen Ke was undoubtedly one of the very few geniuses of his era who could comprehend, guide, and implement industrialized mass production — he accomplished the great feat of China's industrialization almost single-handedly. What remains puzzling, however, is that he showed little interest in America's political and economic systems. Perhaps it was because he witnessed the miserable treatment of his own compatriots in America. Unlike in Japan — where both the government and the common people were genuinely well-disposed toward Chinese students, and many married Japanese wives — Chen Ke found America quite repugnant. This is amply reflected in his later film The Maoshan Demon Slayer Chronicles, which practically became synonymous with America. Even Americans themselves acknowledged that Maoshan was an inescapable dark cloud hovering above the head of the Statue of Liberty. After his investigation of America, Chen Ke had essentially determined the path of China's revolution and chosen both his professional direction and the breakthrough point for revolution: chemistry.

After concluding his American sojourn, Chen Ke set out for Europe. In what was then the center of the world, he finally found his revolutionary scripture: Marxism. There, engaging with Marxist texts, he deepened his theoretical understanding of capitalism, conducted thorough study of its developmental process and characteristics, and recognized that capitalist economic crises and imperialist wars were inevitable. Beyond this, Chen Ke must also have systematically studied chemistry and military science in Europe — otherwise the Chen Ke Equation and the People's Liberation Army's unrivaled infantry squad assault tactics would be difficult to explain. After completing his European studies, Chen Ke neither obtained nor deigned to obtain a diploma or degree from any university — whether Clayton University or the University of the Western Pacific — because he intended to use the entirety of the Chinese mainland, over the entire second half of his life, to write his graduation thesis.

Perhaps it was on some day before his return to China, strolling through some European mountain village, that he happened upon an elderly watchmaker at a roadside stall, trying to sell wristwatches he had made years ago that no one had ever wanted. Chen Ke, his interest piqued, bought them all at a very low price. Upon returning to China and breaking with his family, it was with these watches — acquired from a village in the mountains — that he launched a life that would shake the heavens and the earth.

Volume Three: Red Dawn Timeline — Historical Speculation