THE AUTUMN WIND (based on the life and poetry of Qiu Jin) ~ ACT I
A Play in Three Acts.
By ZJC (2026)
Characters:
QIU JIN (30s) — Revolutionary, poet, swordswoman. She leaves her husband and children to change China. She will not succeed. She will be remembered.
WU ZHIYING (late 40s) — Poet, calligrapher, wife of a Qing official. She helps Qiu Jin escape to Japan. She loves her across distance and death.
XU ZIHUA (40s) — Widowed principal of Xunxi Girls' School. She hires Qiu Jin. She becomes Qiu Jin's partner, her sister, her gravedigger.
XU XILIN (30s) — Qiu Jin's cousin. Revolutionary. He recruits her into the Restoration Society. His failure causes her death.
THE STATE (Actor 5) — Messenger, Official, Executioner, Gulin. The face of the government that wants to erase her.
Setting: Beijing, Tokyo, Zhejiang, Shaoxing. 1903-1908. A single room that transforms — a writing desk, a tea table, a scroll on the wall, a willow branch when needed, a sword that appears and disappears.
Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes.
)(*)(
ACT ONE: THE OATH
SCENE 1: THE CAPITAL
Beijing, 1903. Wu Zhiying's house.
A room. Elegant but restrained. A writing desk. A scroll on the wall: four characters: 宁静致远 ("Tranquility leads to distance"). A tea table. A window.
WU ZHIYING sits at the tea table. She pours tea with precise, careful movements.
QIU JIN stands by the window, looking out.
WU ZHIYING: You have been standing there for ten minutes.
QIU JIN: I like the light.
WU ZHIYING: The light is the same as it was ten minutes ago.
QIU JIN: No. It has moved.
(Wu Zhiying sets the teapot down. She looks at Qiu Jin's back.)
WU ZHIYING: You are not what I expected.
(Qiu Jin turns.)
QIU JIN: What did you expect?
WU ZHIYING: Someone quieter.
(Qiu Jin almost smiles.)
QIU JIN: My husband says the same thing.
WU ZHIYING: Your husband is here? In Beijing?
QIU JIN: He is here. He is always here. That is the problem.
(She crosses to the tea table. She sits across from Wu Zhiying. She does not drink.)
QIU JIN: You wrote to me. After you read my poems.
WU ZHIYING: I did.
QIU JIN: Why?
(Wu Zhiying considers the question.)
WU ZHIYING: Because I have never read anything like them. A woman writing about the Manchus. About revolution. About the lives women are forced to live.
(Pause.)
I did not know women could write like that.
QIU JIN: Neither did I. Until I did.
(Wu Zhiying looks at her.)
WU ZHIYING: You are very strange.
QIU JIN: I know.
WU ZHIYING: I like it.
(Qiu Jin finally picks up the teacup. She drinks.)
QIU JIN: This is good tea.
WU ZHIYING: It is the only good thing in this house.
(Qiu Jin sets the cup down.)
QIU JIN: You are unhappy.
(Wu Zhiying does not answer.)
QIU JIN: I can see it. In the way you pour tea. In the way you sit. You are very still. Too still. Like you are too large and are afraid someone will notice you.
WU ZHIYING: Someone might.
QIU JIN: Your husband?
WU ZHIYING: My husband does not notice anything... except for his work, his colleagues, his position. I am furniture.
(She says this flatly. Not with self-pity, simply a fact.)
QIU JIN: Then why do you stay?
WU ZHIYING: Where would I go?
(Qiu Jin leans forward.)
QIU JIN: Japan. There are women there — Chinese women — studying, writing, organizing. They are not furniture.
WU ZHIYING: I cannot go to Japan.
QIU JIN: Why not?
WU ZHIYING: Because I am a woman.
QIU JIN: That is not a reason.
WU ZHIYING: It is the only reason that matters.
(They look at each other.)
QIU JIN: I am going. As soon as I can arrange it. My husband does not know yet. He will not approve.
WU ZHIYING: Then how will you go?
QIU JIN: I will find a way.
(Wu Zhiying is silent for a long moment.)
WU ZHIYING: I have money. Not much. But some. My mother left it to me. My husband does not know.
QIU JIN: I cannot take your money.
WU ZHIYING: You are not taking it. I am giving it.
(Pause.)
Consider it payment for the poems.
(Qiu Jin stares at her.)
QIU JIN: You do not know me. We met an hour ago.
WU ZHIYING: I know your poems. That is enough.
(Qiu Jin looks down at her hands.)
QIU JIN: I will pay you back.
WU ZHIYING: No. You will not.
(She pours more tea.)
You will go to Japan. You will study. You will write more poems. You will become the woman you are meant to be. And I will stay here. In this house. Pouring tea.
QIU JIN: That is not fair.
WU ZHIYING: No. It is not.
(She hands Qiu Jin the cup.)
But it is the only way.
(Qiu Jin takes the cup. She does not drink. She holds it in both hands.)
QIU JIN: I will write to you. From Japan.
WU ZHIYING: I would like that.
QIU JIN: I will tell you everything. The women I meet. The things I learn. The revolution.
WU ZHIYING: Be careful.
QIU JIN: I am always careful.
(Wu Zhiying looks at her — at her restless hands, her bright eyes, her refusal to sit still.)
WU ZHIYING: No. You are not.
(Qiu Jin almost smiles again.)
QIU JIN: No. I am not.
(She sets the cup down. She stands.)
I should go. My husband will be wondering where I am.
WU ZHIYING: Let him wonder.
(Qiu Jin looks at her.)
WU ZHIYING: Stay a little longer.
(Qiu Jin sits down again.)
(They sit in silence. The tea grows cold.)
(Wu Zhiying reaches across the table. She takes Qiu Jin's hand.)
(Qiu Jin does not pull away.)
WU ZHIYING (quietly): I have never done that before.
QIU JIN: Done what?
WU ZHIYING: Reached for someone.
(Qiu Jin looks at their joined hands.)
QIU JIN: Neither have I.
(They sit in silence. The light changes — the sun moving across the room.)
(Wu Zhiying speaks without looking up.)
WU ZHIYING: When you go to Japan — when you become what you are meant to be — will you remember me?
QIU JIN: I will remember this room. This tea. This light.
(She squeezes Wu Zhiying's hand.)
I will remember your hand in mine.
(Wu Zhiying closes her eyes.)
(Lights fade.)
)(*)(
SCENE 2: THE ESCAPE
Beijing, 1904. The same room.
The tea table is bare. A small bag sits on the floor — Qiu Jin's luggage. A cloak hangs over the back of a chair.
WU ZHIYING stands by the window, looking out. QIU JIN paces.
WU ZHIYING: You should sit.
QIU JIN: I cannot sit.
WU ZHIYING: You are making me nervous.
QIU JIN: You should be nervous.
(Wu Zhiying turns from the window.)
WU ZHIYING: I have done everything you asked. The money is in the bag. The tickets are in your coat. The ship leaves at dawn.
QIU JIN: I know.
WU ZHIYING: Then why are you still here?
(Qiu Jin stops pacing. She looks at Wu Zhiying.)
QIU JIN: Because I am afraid.
(Wu Zhiying crosses to her.)
WU ZHIYING: You? Afraid?
QIU JIN: I have never been outside Beijing. I have never been on a ship. I have never been alone.
WU ZHIYING: You will not be alone. There will be other women on the ship. Students. Revolutionaries.
QIU JIN: I do not know them.
WU ZHIYING: You did not know me. Six months ago.
(Qiu Jin looks at her.)
QIU JIN: That was different.
WU ZHIYING: How?
QIU JIN: Because I knew you before I met you. In your poems.
(Wu Zhiying is silent.)
QIU JIN: I read everything you ever wrote. Before I ever wrote to you. Before I ever asked to meet you. I knew your voice before I heard it.
(Pause.)
I do not know anyone in Japan.
(Wu Zhiying takes Qiu Jin's hands.)
WU ZHIYING: Then write to me. Tell me their voices. I will learn them with you.
(Qiu Jin grips her hands.)
QIU JIN: What if I fail?
WU ZHIYING: Fail at what?
QIU JIN: At becoming what I am meant to be.
(Wu Zhiying looks at her — at her dark clothes, her pinned-up hair, her trembling hands.)
WU ZHIYING: Then why go? Why do... any of this?
(She releases Qiu Jin's hands. She moves to the table. She picks up a small package — wrapped in silk, tied with a red cord.)
I have something for you.
QIU JIN: You have already given me too much.
WU ZHIYING: This is not money. This is not tickets.
(She holds it out.)
This is for when you are afraid.
(Qiu Jin takes the package. She unties the cord. She unwraps the silk.)
(Inside: a small jade pendant. A lotus flower. Worn smooth — old, loved.)
QIU JIN: What is this?
WU ZHIYING: My mother's. She gave it to me when I married. She said it would protect me.
(Pause.)
It did not. Nothing could have protected me from that life.
(Qiu Jin looks at the pendant.)
WU ZHIYING: But it protected me from forgetting who I was. Before I became furniture.
(Qiu Jin holds the pendant against her chest.)
QIU JIN: I cannot take this.
WU ZHIYING: But you will.
(She steps back.)
When you are in Japan. When you are alone. When you are afraid. Hold this. Remember that someone in Beijing is thinking of you. Someone in Beijing is waiting for your letters. Someone in Beijing loves you.
(Qiu Jin's eyes fill with tears.)
QIU JIN: You have never said that before.
WU ZHIYING: I have never had the courage.
(They stand in silence.)
(Outside, a bell rings — distant, insistent.)
WU ZHIYING: That is the curfew. You need to go.
QIU JIN: I know.
(Neither of them moves.)
WU ZHIYING: Qiu Jin.
QIU JIN: Yes?
WU ZHIYING: Do not look back.
(Qiu Jin puts the pendant around her neck. She picks up her bag and pulls her cloak over her shoulders.)
(She moves to the door. She stops.)
QIU JIN: I will write to you. From the ship. From Japan. From everywhere I go.
WU ZHIYING: I will be here.
QIU JIN: Promise me.
WU ZHIYING: I promise.
(Qiu Jin opens the door.)
(She looks back — one last time.)
QIU JIN: I love you, too.
(She leaves.)
(Wu Zhiying stands alone.)
(She crosses to the window. She watches Qiu Jin go.)
(The light changes. Dawn approaching.)
(Wu Zhiying speaks — to herself, to the empty room.)
WU ZHIYING: "Now that things have gotten so dangerous —"
(She stops.)
You wrote that. To me. In your last letter. Before you decided to leave.
(She touches the window frame.)
"Now that things have gotten so dangerous — Please change your girl's garments for a Wu sword."
(Pause.)
I have not changed my garments... but I have changed my heart.
(She turns from the window.)
(She looks at the tea table — bare now, empty.)
WU ZHIYING: I will wait for your letters. I will read them a hundred times. I will write back. I will tell you everything. And I will pretend — every day — that you are coming back.
(She sits down at the table.)
(She picks up a brush. She begins to write — not a poem, not a letter. Just a single character, over and over.)
(The character for "wait.")
(守.)
(She writes it again. And again. And again.)
(Lights fade.)
)(*)(
SCENE 3: THE DISTANCE
Two spaces on stage simultaneously.
Stage left: A small room in Tokyo, Japan. 1904-1905. A writing desk. A window.
Stage right: Wu Zhiying's house in Beijing. The same room.
Both poets sit at their respective desks. They write. They speak their letters aloud. The audience hears both sides of the conversation, but the women cannot hear each other.
The lights come up on both sides of the stage simultaneously.
QIU JIN writes. She speaks as she writes.
QIU JIN: I have been in Japan for three months. The city is loud. The language is strange. I do not understand half of what people say to me.
(She writes.)
But there are other Chinese women here. Students. Revolutionaries. They talk about the future as if it is something we can build with our own hands.
(She looks up.)
I have never met anyone like them.
(On the other side of the stage, WU ZHIYING reads Qiu Jin's letter. She writes back.)
WU ZHIYING: You write about the future as if it is already here. I read your letters three, four, five times a day. I memorize them.
(She writes.)
I showed one to my husband. He asked who had written it. I told him a friend. He said, "Your friend writes like a man."
(She sets the brush down.)
I did not tell him that was a compliment.
(QIU JIN writes again.)
QIU JIN: I have started wearing men's clothing. It is easier to move. Easier to be seen. Easier to be taken seriously.
(She writes.)
The women here call me "Brother Qiu." I like it.
(She pauses.)
I cut my hair. It is short now. When I look in the mirror, I do not recognize myself. But I recognize who I want to become.
(WU ZHIYING reads. She touches the page — as if she could touch Qiu Jin through the paper.)
WU ZHIYING: I dream about you. In the dreams, you are always leaving. Walking away from me. I call your name, but you do not turn around.
(She writes.)
Last night, the dream was different. You turned around. You smiled. You said, "I am not leaving. I am going ahead."
(She sets the brush down.)
I woke up crying.
(QIU JIN writes again. Faster now.)
QIU JIN: I have joined a revolutionary society. The Restoration Society. My cousin Xu Xilin introduced them to me. They talk about assassinations. About uprisings. About blood.
(She writes.)
I thought I would be afraid. I am not.
(She pauses.)
I thought of you. When they asked me to take the oath. I thought of your hand in mine. In your house. That first day.
(She writes.)
I thought: if I die, she will remember me.
(WU ZHIYING reads. Her hand trembles.)
WU ZHIYING: Do not die.
(She writes.)
I am not asking. I am telling you. Do not die.
(She sets the brush down.)
I cannot write the poem I want to write. The words will not come. They are stuck in my chest. Behind my ribs. Where I keep your letters.
(QIU JIN writes one final time.)
QIU JIN: I am coming back to China. Soon. Not to Beijing — to Zhejiang. To start a school. To train women to fight.
(She writes.)
I do not know when I will see you again. I do not know if I will see you again.
(She pauses. She touches the jade pendant at her neck — the one Wu Zhiying gave her.)
But I carry you with me. Everywhere.
(She sets the brush down.)
(On the other side of the stage, WU ZHIYING reads the letter. She holds it against her chest.)
(Both women sit in silence.)
(The lights fade on both sides simultaneously.)
SCENE 4: THE REVOLUTIONARY
Tokyo, Japan. 1905. A small room. A table. A few chairs. On the wall, a map of China. A single sword.
QIU JIN sits at the table. Before her: a letter from Wu Zhiying. She has read it many times. She touches the characters.
XU XILIN enters. He is agitated.
XU XILIN: Are you still reading that, cousin?
(Qiu Jin looks up.)
QIU JIN: Are you still interrupting?
(He sits across from her.)
XU XILIN: I have news. The Restoration Society is meeting tonight. Cai Yuanpei will be there. Tao Chengzhang will be there.
QIU JIN: I know who they are.
XU XILIN: Then you know they are the ones who will overthrow the Manchus. Not the poets. Not the letter-writers.
(He glances at the letter.)
The ones with swords.
(Qiu Jin folds the letter. She sets it aside.)
QIU JIN: You think poetry cannot be a weapon?
XU XILIN: I think poetry has never stopped a bullet.
(She looks at him.)
QIU JIN: What are you asking me to do?
XU XILIN: Join us. Tonight. Take the oath. Become a revolutionary.
QIU JIN: I am already a revolutionary.
XU XILIN: You are a woman who wears men's clothes and writes angry poems. That is not the same.
(She stands. He does not flinch.)
QIU JIN: You came to me in Beijing. Before I left. You told me the Manchus had to go. You told me women deserved better. You told me I could be part of something larger than myself.
XU XILIN: I meant it.
QIU JIN: Then why are you treating me like a child?
(He is silent.)
QIU JIN: I know what the Restoration Society does. Assassination. Armed uprising. Blood.
XU XILIN: Yes.
QIU JIN: You think I am not capable of that?
XU XILIN: I think you are capable of more.
(She stares at him.)
XU XILIN: You are a woman. That is a weapon. No one expects a woman to carry a bomb. No one searches a woman for a dagger. You can go where I cannot.
(Pause.)
You can kill where I cannot.
(Qiu Jin sits down slowly.)
QIU JIN: You want me to be an assassin?
XU XILIN: I want you to be a revolutionary. Assassination is just one tool.
(She looks at the letter from Wu Zhiying.)
XU XILIN: Who is that from?
QIU JIN: A friend.
XU XILIN: A friend, or a lover?
(She does not answer.)
XU XILIN: I do not care what she is to you. But do not let her make you soft.
QIU JIN: She does not make me soft. She makes me brave.
(Xu Xilin stands.)
XU XILIN: Then be brave tonight. Come to the meeting. Take the oath. Stop writing letters and start planning.
(He moves to the door. He stops.)
The meeting is at eight. I will wait for you until eight-fifteen.
(He leaves.)
(Qiu Jin sits alone. She picks up the letter. She reads it again — silently, her lips moving.)
(She sets it down. She picks up a brush. She writes back to Wu Zhiying. She speaks as she writes.)
QIU JIN (writing): My cousin has asked me to join the Restoration Society. He wants me to carry a dagger. He wants me to learn to kill.
(She writes.)
I do not know if I can. I do not know if I should. But I know I cannot stay here forever, writing poems, waiting for the world to change.
(She writes.)
I asked you once to change your girl's garments for a Wu sword. I have changed my garments. Now I must decide what to do with my hands.
(She sets the brush down.)
(She stands. She looks at the map on the wall — China, divided, occupied.)
(She speaks to the map — to China, to the revolution, to herself.)
QIU JIN: I will go to the meeting.
(Pause.)
I will take the oath.
(Pause.)
I will become what they need me to become.
(She finishes the letter to Wu Zhiying with the following words.)
"When the saber is drawn from its scabbard, the heavens shake.
The sun, moon, and stars hide their radiance.
With one chop to the ground, the sea water stands upright.
With three inches of blade, a sinister wind howls."
(Pause. She finishes the letter with.)
And I will not stop writing.
(She leaves.)
(Blackout.)
)(*)(
SCENE 5: THE ORCHID VERSE
Tokyo, Japan. 1905.
A small room. A table. A candle. On the table: a sheet of white paper, a brush, ink.
The room is bare — no map, no sword, no scrolls. Just the table and the candle and the two women who have come here to change their lives.
WU ZHIYING stands at the table. She has not yet sat down. She is looking at the blank paper.
QIU JIN watches her from the doorway.
QIU JIN: You came.
(Wu Zhiying turns.)
WU ZHIYING: You asked me to.
QIU JIN: I have asked you many times. You have not come before.
(Wu Zhiying looks around the room.)
WU ZHIYING: This is not what I expected.
QIU JIN: What did you expect?
WU ZHIYING: Something grander. An altar. Flowers. Incense.
QIU JIN (almost smiling): We are not swearing to the gods. We are swearing to each other.
(Wu Zhiying looks at her. Really looks.)
WU ZHIYING: You have changed.
QIU JIN: Yes.
WU ZHIYING: Your hair. Your clothes. Your face.
QIU JIN: My face is the same.
WU ZHIYING: No. Your face is harder.
(Qiu Jin crosses to the table. She stands opposite Wu Zhiying.)
QIU JIN: I have been learning to kill.
(Wu Zhiying does not flinch.)
WU ZHIYING: I know.
QIU JIN: My cousin — Xu Xilin — he wants me to carry a dagger. I’ve joined the Restoration Society but he wants me to be ready to die.
WU ZHIYING: And what do you want?
(Qiu Jin is silent for a moment.)
QIU JIN: I want to stop being afraid.
(Wu Zhiying nods slowly.)
WU ZHIYING: That is why I came.
(She sits down at the table. Qiu Jin sits across from her.)
WU ZHIYING: I have been thinking about what you wrote. In your letters.
(She pauses. Then she recites — from memory — Qiu Jin's own words.)
"The scent of orchids — heart to heart,/ Like metal and stone — silently in harmony."
(Pause.)
I have been thinking about my own life. My husband. My house. My poems. No one reads them. No one cares. I am a wife who writes. That is all.
QIU JIN: That is not all.
WU ZHIYING: It is all they see.
(She touches the blank paper.)
You wrote to me once: "My soulmate is separated by mountains and rivers."
QIU JIN (quietly): I remember.
WU ZHIYING: I wrote a poem. For you. For today.
QIU JIN: Let me hear it.
Wu Zhiying takes a breath. She recites.
WU ZHIYING:
“We met in the capital, strangers.
We meet again in Japan, sisters.
The ink on this paper will fade.
The seals will crack. But the vow —
The vow will outlast us both.”
(She looks up.)
That is why I came.
(Silence.)
(Qiu Jin reaches across the table. She takes Wu Zhiying's hand.)
QIU JIN: Then let us swear it. Here. Now. No altar. No incense. Just us.
WU ZHIYING: What do we swear?
QIU JIN: That we are sisters. Beyond blood. Beyond marriage. Beyond death.
(Wu Zhiying looks at their joined hands.)
WU ZHIYING: And if one of us dies?
QIU JIN: Then the other carries her name.
(Wu Zhiying nods.)
WU ZHIYING: Then write it.
(Wu Zhiying reaches into her sleeve. She pulls out a small silk pouch. She unties it. Inside: a brush — not an ordinary one. The handle is carved with orchids. It is beautiful, personal, clearly special.)
(She holds it out to Qiu Jin.)
WU ZHIYING: My brush. The one I use for my best poems. I have never let anyone else hold it.
(Qiu Jin takes it. She looks at it. She looks at Wu Zhiying.)
QIU JIN: This is more than a vow.
WU ZHIYING: Yes.
(Qiu Jin picks up the brush. She dips it in ink. She begins to write on the white paper. She speaks as she writes.)
QIU JIN (writing): We, Qiu Jin and Wu Zhiying, swear before heaven and earth —
(She writes.)
To be sisters. To share each other's joys and sorrows. To protect each other's names.
(She writes.)
If one of us dies, the other will live as if she were still here.
(She sets the brush down. She reads what she has written.)
(Then she hands the brush to Wu Zhiying.)
(Pause.)
(Wu Zhiying takes the brush. She reads the contract. She adds her own lines. She speaks as she writes.)
WU ZHIYING (writing): I, Wu Zhiying, swear to keep Qiu Jin alive.
(She writes.)
I will not let her disappear.
(She sets the brush down.)
(They look at each other across the table.)
(Wu Zhiying folds the contract carefully. She tucks it into her sleeve.)
(They sit in silence.)
(Wu Zhiying stands.)
WU ZHIYING: I should go. The ship leaves at dawn.
QIU JIN: I know.
WU ZHIYING: Will you write to me?
QIU JIN: Every day.
WU ZHIYING: And when you return to China?
QIU JIN: I will find you.
(Wu Zhiying moves to the door. She stops.)
WU ZHIYING: Qiu Jin.
QIU JIN: Yes?
WU ZHIYING: Do not die.
(Qiu Jin does not answer.)
(Wu Zhiying leaves.)
(Qiu Jin stands alone. She holds the carved brush against her chest. She looks at the empty doorway.)
(She speaks — to Wu Zhiying, who cannot hear her, and to herself.)
QIU JIN: I will try.
(She bows her head.)
(Lights fade.)