Li Yapeng: The tenets of my life are integrity, courage, simplicity and kindness. I am now a businessman and philanthropist, but I position myself more as an idealistic entrepreneur.
My Weibo ID is “Shaft No.1” (yi hao li jing). It is the shortened name of Shaft No.1 Coal Mine in Liudaowan, Urumqi-my place of birth and where I lived 14 years. It is the origin of my life, to which I owe everything. Number 14 seems to be the destined life path number of my parents and me. I left Xinjiang at age 14 and my parents left Henan and Anhui provinces (their respective birthplaces) at 14 as well.
My grandfathers on both my father and mother’s side were members of the Kuomintang, so my parents had to keep a low profile and live in oblivion. Mom was initially admitted to a teacher’s college, but for some reason, her mother did not let her attend. Later, my grandfathers’ Kuomintang background was discovered and we, as a family, were excluded from mainstream society and subject to discrimination and suffering. Believing Xinjiang was a good place, mom decided to move there with a former classmate. They made their way to Shihezi hitchhiking and sneaking onto trains and trucks.
My father left Henan for Urumqi at age 14. By the time he met mom, he was an engineer and she a medical doctor. They were attracted to each other because of their similar life experience. They got married when mom was still living in Shihezi and she moved to Urumqi to be with dad only after she was pregnant with me. They kept working in the same coal mine area until 1999, when dad passed away. My dad, the idol of my life, used to teach me how to be a respectable person. A motto he wanted me to keep in mind was “one must always stay humble and never lose one’s integrity.” He was a model worker who refused to rest, even on weekends, during his entire career. I helped him even as a child. I helped him assemble radio and TV sets and also helped our neighbors with many things for free. TV sets were very hard to find, but he was able to get the right parts and components for assembly. For example, our family-owned, 9-inch black and white TV, assembled by him, attracted a large crowd of viewers every day. As a very capable administrator, he acted as a problem solver and was frequently sent on a variety of missions to many different places. He founded a mechanical and electrical laboratory attached to the Urumqi Mining Bureau. The lab had under its purview several enterprises that contributed tens of millions of yuan in tax revenue to the national treasury. Even so, he never asked for additional bonuses and agreed to retire from that toilsome job only after mom threatened divorce.
My dad ultimately died of a sudden heart attack. About 500 people who had worked with him came to his funeral. He was buried with his ancestors in Henan Province. I have paid tribute to him annually since.
I was a good student until I failed my senior high school entrance exams due to frequent fighting with fellow students during my final year of junior high school. Mom was shocked because I had been such a good student. What a loss of face! I was too ashamed to stay in Xinjiang any longer and decided to leave for Hefei, Anhui Province, where an aunt of mine was teaching. My plan was to repeat junior high 3rd grade and then move on to senior high after passing the entrance exams.
Failure to make it to high school on my first try suddenly awoke me and gave me a sense of urgency. My parents were encouraged and happy to see this change. So, I headed to Anhui at age 14 and continued with school. The train journey from Xinjiang to Anhui took four days and gave me a deep impression of the natural beauty of my home province.
All people love their hometown, wherever they are, but I believe Xinjiang people love theirs in a very special way. What is unique about them is a strong homestead consciousness bred in a multiethnic regional culture and living within them thousands of years. My grandparents were originally from Henan and Anhui provinces, but I always see myself as a Xinjianger. Since leaving Xinjiang, I have, in my formative years, often come across discrimination in the name of love and care. While attending elementary school in Hefei, for example, I was often asked stereotypical questions such as “How many heads of sheep do you keep?” “Do you live in a tent?” and “Do you live on the grassland?” At that time, I had a lot of self-esteem. Every time I heard people say I didn’t look Xinjiang, I stared at them blankly, or even cut ties with them. Still, I made a lot of friends in Hefei. Due to my influence, quite a few developed a special liking for Xinjiang. A couple of them even risked breaking up with their families just so they could visit Xinjiang with me.
When I sat for the national college entrance exam in 1990, I set my target on a Bachelor of Science degree from Beihang University. That year, the Central Academy of Drama was recruiting Xinjiang trainees on contract for the Xinjiang Drama Troupe. My ex-girlfriend, who broke up with me two months after I criticized her for her “vain” plan to enter the Central Academy of Drama, came to see me and asked me to accompany her to Beijing to do some “videotaping.” By “videotaping,” she meant passing the entrance exam for the drama school she had registered on my behalf, because those who passed the exam would be videotaped. I had no idea she had done that. I was the last among hundreds of test takers to enter the test center, but I wasn’t ready to take the test. “I’m not here for any test,” I said to the examiner. “I’m here to keep my girlfriend company.” “But you must obey our rules,” the examiner said. A year later, I found out the school authorities had already prequalified me after looking at my application, which was submitted by my girlfriend. Passing the test was the final step prior to admission.
All my classmates at the drama school were from Xinjiang, and we were more attached to each other than students in other classes. From 1990 to now, for 25 years running, we have treated our teachers to a good meal annually. I feel very good about that because our gratitude is expressed to them in real terms.
I was exposed to rock music as soon as I arrived in Beijing in 1990. The first rock concert I went to was the Tang Dynasty Band, much of whose music had Xinjiang in it, which shocked me and made me regret that I couldn’t have heard it sooner. As an art student, I had opportunities to contact people in the performing arts and music circles, but it wasn’t until two years later that I got into the inner circle, gained access to the Tang Dynasty Band broker, and sat talking with him.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I want to host a concert,” I answered.
“What do you do to make a living?” he asked.
“I am a student from the Central Academy of Drama.”
He asked me a few more questions that I didn’t know how to answer.
“Do you know how much it costs to host a concert?”
“My estimate is 30,000 yuan.”
“I can’t go on with this conversation,” he smiled and said. “I know you are a rock fan and I’ll give you some tickets next time we have a concert.”
“That’s not what I want,” I said. “I want to host a rock concert in Xinjiang so more Xinjiangers, especially Xinjiang children, who are often gifted in music, may have access to rock music too.”
He began to show interest, but became very touchy after I talked three or four more times with him.
“Li Yapeng, you don’t really know what you’re saying! We’re talking about something very complicated, and you’re just a kid with no money.”
“I’ll make it or break it,” I said and asked him to give me a quote.
He gave me a figure that was the highest the Tang Dynasty Band had received, as I later found out.
Li Yapeng celebrating with music fans after a successful concert planned and run by him in Xinjiang
I was excited nonetheless, even though I soon realized that all that I had was a pie in the sky. I stayed home a week trying to figure out what to do. My eyes lit up when I read a full-page newspaper ad on Urumqi Feiyan Cultural Enterprise Inc. I thought a company that could afford such a high-profile ad was probably rich. When I went to the company the next day, I saw it was in fact a high-end restaurant. Nobody paid any attention to me because I didn’t look rich enough to fit in there. Simply put, it wasn’t meant for young guys like me. The general manager of the cultural company was the restaurant manager. He told me the big boss of the company was a woman well-known in the city. She was also owner of a jewelry store and KTV salon. This woman boss was very happy to see me and pledged support for the rock concert. She let me share her office at Holiday Inn in Urumqi and had business cards printed for me to promote my cause. I acted fast, living in the office to save time. I looked for leads in newspaper ads, carried snacks in a backpack, and went door to door seeking donations. After contacting about 80 companies in two months, I raised close to 100,000 yuan in sponsorship, a lot of money back then. I also had to contact the cultural bureau for approval, find the proper venue for the concert, and take care of ticket sales. The restaurant manager was amazed at what I had accomplished.
The concert was a hit. The stadium where it took place was packed. There were even ticket touts selling fake tickets. My parents came to watch too and they refused to leave when it was over, even after I had said goodbye several times. When I asked them what they were expecting, they didn’t say anything, though my dad suddenly stepped forward to shake hands with me. That was the crowning moment of my life! My sense of accomplishment was full with my parent’s recognition.
I was a movie actor for 20 years, between 1990 and 2010, before becoming a businessman and philanthropist. I changed careers because I felt deep within me that there were more valuable things in life than acting.
Today, apart from running a cultural enterprise, I devote a major part of my time to public welfare and charity programs through two foundations and a hospital. Beijing Smile Angel Children’s Hospital assists children with cleft lips from around the world. Each year, we organize summer camps for children who have recovered from surgeries sponsored by us. We hold regular meetings with their parents where we share our experience and provide them spiritual support. Smile Angel Foundation conducts many activities too. In 2009, we sent a medical team to Ali, Tibet to treat infants with cleft lips. Our original plan was to fly to Lhasa, drive three days to Ali for a seven-day surgery program, drive back to Lhasa, and fly back to Beijing. We left on National Day, three months after the July 5th Incident in Urumqi. Thus, the atmosphere was still quite tense. When the surgeries were finished, however, I told my drivers to drive directly to Kashgar, Xinjiang, where we would provide surgical aid to over 20 Uyghur children. The decision meant we had to drive 1,100 km at an altitude up to 6,000 meters, crossing up to six mountains during the journey.
After driving through three big mountains, the weather abruptly changed and some team members began to wonder if we should stop and take a break. If we stopped, we would have a difficult time going downhill in freezing weather, which would mean days of waiting. So, I made a rash decision to move on, although I was suffering from serious altitude sickness and my head had swollen. Upon reaching the top of a mountain, the SUV I was riding in was blocked by a large, 10-ton truck that was skidding. By then, snow was furiously falling. The big truck was parked and did not budge. We couldn’t pass it as the road was much too narrow. I got out to show the truck driver our Red Cross logo. The driver then asked everyone to get out and stand one after another behind the truck, each with a rock in hand, so the driver could be guided to inch the truck backwards until it was about 50 cm from the cliff. Our car passed through, but I fell several meters down the roadside and had to be pulled up with a rope. I see now how foolhardy I was. In fact, just a month later, some of our friends from the Red Cross died in a crash.
We arrived in Kashgar after over 20 hours’ continuous driving. Our friends there were shocked: “Didn’t you just leave yesterday? How come you’re here already? What a risk!” Our Tibetan drivers were amazed too. “You’re really something, General Manager Li! We’ve never done anything like this!”
When we completed the surgeries, the Uyghur commissioner of Kashgar called me and insisted on having us for dinner. “It takes a lot of courage to come at such a difficult time,” he said. At dinner, the commissioner shared his thoughts with us about the terror incident. “It all boils down to the fact that we Xinjiangers are poor, so poor we choose to follow whoever gives us 100 yuan. It has nothing to do with religion or politics. Poverty is the real issue. It’s as simple as that,” the commissioner said.
For the past 30 years, I have visited Xinjiang once a year, even after my dad’s death and my mom and brother’s relocation in Beijing. Within the next two years, I plan to visit Xinjiang with my daughter and stay in the small village where my parents lived so she will be familiar with that part of the world, not just the natural environment, but the social environment as well. If children stay in one place, they may become restricted in their own isolated world. If Xinjiang is an isolated world, Beijing can be as well.
I go to Shaft No.1 Coal Mine every time I return to Xinjiang. During a charity mission to Urumqi in 2015, I visited my hometown again and found my former residence still intact. I was overjoyed because I thought it had been removed. The residence has a backyard where my parents used to grow fruits and vegetables, including strawberries, hot peppers, and cucumbers. It is also where I raised cats, dogs, and rabbits. As I stood there, all of my childhood memories flooded back.
During that trip, we also visited the children who had been treated by Smile Angel’s surgeons in 2009. Though the villagers and local doctors had met us only once, the surgical services our team provided for the kids created an extraordinary bonding among us. We warmly hugged one another. We also visited Ili, where we provided surgical services for some children. One of them was a 10-month old baby abandoned by her parents, but adopted by a herdsman. Honestly, most of the patients we helped were adopted by impoverished families. The only relatively rich adopters I knew were a foreign couple. I don’t wish to imply anything; I’m just presenting the facts I witnessed. Each Smile Angel mission has regrets because not all planned surgeries can get done. Fever, inflammation, and malnutrition are some of the major factors that shelve some planned surgeries and thus deal a huge blow to the parents. The 2015 mission left about 30 surgeries undone. However, it’s this sense of regret that keeps us going. In my childhood, I dreamed of being an engineer, lawyer, or even a statesman, but never wanted to be an actor. I don’t get to do anything I want though, as none of those dreams come true.
I realized what I should do, and what I was suited to do, only after some probing and testing. Smile Angel Foundation is not something I had planned. It came in the upshot of my daughter’s birth. In a sense, I set it up for the sake of my daughter. 2016 marks the 10th anniversary of the foundation. My goal 10 years ago was to sponsor 10,000 surgeries in my lifetime. We’ve now sponsored 11,000, so my goal has been met and I can continue with the foundation or opt for something else. However, I feel compelled to continue and create the next 10-year development plan.
As a matter of fact, I found my true passion in 2010, when I quit acting and started planning for establishment of the Shuyuan China Culture Development Foundation, something I’ve since wanted to commit to from the bottom of my heart for my lifetime. Shuyuan (academies) originated during the Qin and Han dynasties and flourished during the Tang and Song dynasties. In a period spanning over 2,000 years before the start of the Political Reform initiated by Emperor Guangxu (1871–1908), 4,700 academies came into being in rural China. Different from present-day schools, academies were platforms where all aspects of the Chinese people’s cultural life, customs, folkways, and rituals of sacrifice and worship took place. Many problems that exist in our society today, including those in education, result from lack of quality oriented and eastern esthetic education. Shuyuan China is dedicated to making up for the loss of cultural values by establishing 3,000 academies across the country. It may appear idealistic, but I want to give it a shot.
(selected from Xinjiang: Beyond Race, Religion, and Place of Origin by Kurbanjan Samat, translated by Wang Chiying, published by New World Press in 2017)
