Keven Law [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D
不入虎穴，焉得虎子 (bù rù hǔ xué, yān dé hǔ zǐ) “To catch the tiger cub, one must enter the tiger’s lair.” Problem was, I found myself in the middle of the tiger’s lair, but I had no desire to catch a tiger cub. I was, however, enjoying my surroundings and was curious to know more. There’s another Chinese saying, 不到长城非好汉 (búdào chángchéng fēi hǎohàn). “You can’t really call yourself a real man (hǎohàn) until you been to the Great Wall of China.” I’d been to the Great Wall, but I still didn’t feel that I’d earned my “hǎohàn” merit badge.
Not sure when the “tiger cub” idiom first appeared, but the best-known backstory centers on an historical figure by the name of Bān Chāo (班超) who hailed from Xianyang in the province of Shaanxi. He was both a military leader and a diplomat who lived in the Eastern Han dynasty during the first century A.D. The story goes that Bān Chāo, along with 36 subordinates, was on a diplomatic mission for the Eastern Han Emperor to visit the kingdom of Lóu Lán (楼兰) in the Tarim Basin, located in the present day Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region. He had been asked to cement a relationship with its king. When Bān Chāo arrived, he was given a warm reception and things were looking good. After a few days, however, things seemed to cool down. He learned that another delegation had arrived at about the same time as his. This much larger delegation were Xiongnu (匈奴), fierce warriors from northeastern China. Bān Chāo knew the only real weapon he possessed at that moment was surprise. He sent 10 men to beat drums and start shouting. The rest of Bān Chāo’s men lay in ambush and swiftly slew 30 of the Xiongnu soldiers, including the leader, whose head he severed. The remaining Xiongnu fled the kingdom erroneously believing that they had been attacked by a large Han force. The next day, Bān Chāo presented the severed head of the Xiongnu leader to the King of Lóu Lán, and the Lóu Lán King decided to form an alliance with the Eastern Han. Bān Chāo had entered the tiger’s Lair and had successfully captured the tiger cub.
As I was writing this, a third idiom came to mind. Yue Guang（樂廣）invited a friend to a bar about a thousand years ago during the Jin Dynasty（晉朝）. While tippling and staring into his cup, the friend appeared startled and suddenly left the bar. Wondering what had happened, Yue Guang popped by his friend’s home later on to make sure he was OK. “I thought I saw a snake swimming in my drink.” said his friend. “It really scared me so I came home.” Yue Guang was curious. He went back to the bar and sat at the same spot his friend had sat and drunk the same drink. Then he smiled. The snake his friend had seen, was, in fact, the reflection of a bow that was hanging on the wall. He quickly returned to his friend’s house and explained the illusion. . . and they went back to the bar and finished their drinks.
I knew I was no Bān Chāo. There have been a few times in China, however, when I have felt a little like Yue Guang’s friend, where I may have possibly mistaken a snake for a bow 杯弓蛇影（bēi gōng shé yǐng.） The road back to Beijing reminded me of the snake in the cup, but my eyes closed and I drifted back into the tiger’s lair.
Chinese Odyssey 49
The road back to Beijing
was curvy and long
We spied an old lady,
but something seemed wrong.
She beckoned us over
and said that she knew
some secrets about me
and things I must do.
The Panda in the Room PD 