In April 1975, the life of Chiang Kai-shek, a figure shrouded in legend, came to an end on the island of Taiwan. Meanwhile, on the mainland, Mao Zedong, who had been Chiang’s lifelong rival, received the news with a somber demeanor rather than joy. Upon hearing the report from his subordinates, Mao merely responded with a grave and calm, “Noted.”
Chiang Kai-shek’s approach to death was far from serene. Even in his final moments, he harbored a persistent obsession, which became evident through certain actions taken after his passing. On the day of Chiang’s official embalming, many Nationalist soldiers arrived with heavy hearts to pay their respects. However, they were shocked to see his body’s lower half remarkably swollen — an unexpected sight compounded by the fact that he was wearing seven pairs of pants.
This curious detail remained an unresolved historical mystery for many years, sparking various theories. It wasn’t until Madame Soong Mei-ling’s later years that the true reason was finally disclosed…
The Retreat to Taiwan
By December 1949, two months after the founding of the People’s Republic of China, Chiang Kai-shek had come to fully accept his defeat and retreated to Taiwan. Many who fled with him had no idea this departure would be a permanent farewell. For numerous individuals, including Chiang himself, it became a lifelong regret never to return to their homeland.
This deep sorrow is reflected poignantly in the poetry of Mr. Yu Youren, which states: “Bury me atop the high mountain, gazing towards my homeland; though I cannot see it, it remains forever in my heart.”
Upon arriving in Taiwan, Chiang refused to relinquish his dream of reclaiming the mainland. He sought close ties with the United States for military support and maintained the Nationalist Party’s “Mobilization for the Suppression of the Rebellion” policy—first enacted in July 1947 on the mainland—continuing wartime governance that heavily taxed civilians to sustain the military.
When the Korean War erupted in 1950, Chiang actively petitioned the U.S. government to include the Nationalist forces in the “United Nations Command” to fight against the Chinese People's Liberation Army. Yet, both President Truman and General MacArthur firmly declined his request.
Confident in the superiority of American weaponry and the training of his troops, Chiang believed the Chinese volunteer forces would be crushed, providing a perfect chance to launch a counterattack on the mainland. What he did not foresee was the determined courage of the Communist soldiers, who, despite severe hardships, ultimately triumphed and defended China’s territory.
The victory in the Korean War dealt a harsh blow to reactionary forces abroad still eyeing the new China with hostility. It also shattered Chiang’s hopes of retaking the mainland, awakening him to the reality that such dreams were illusory and unreachable.
Two Letters Home
In his later years, Chiang had come to understand that reclaiming the mainland was a futile dream. As time passed, his yearning for home deepened. Mao Zedong, aware through public statements of Chiang’s continued desire to return, sought to advance national reunification by sending him two letters.
The first letter, in 1956, was delivered via the intermediary Zhang Shizhao. Mao’s brief message read: “The ancestral tomb in Fenghua remains, and the flowers and grass in Xikou are unharmed.” This simple line reassured Chiang about his hometown’s condition and eased his homesickness.
On May 5, 1956, Premier Zhou Enlai, during a meeting with foreign guests, relayed a message for Chiang: “If Chiang Kai-shek is willing to return Taiwan to the motherland, it would be a great service, and the Chinese people would forgive him.”
In July 1965, Mao sent a second message through a famous journalist and writer, Cao Juren, in the form of a poem titled Linjiangxian. Upon reading it, Chiang was moved to tears. The poem said: “The bright moon remains, but when will the colorful clouds return?”
Through this short verse, Chiang understood Mao’s sentiment — the homeland still exists, waiting for the prodigal son’s return.
The idea of returning to his roots took deep hold in Chiang’s heart, eventually growing into a strong hope. After receiving Mao’s letters, Chiang proposed six conditions for peace:
1. Chiang and his Nationalist followers could freely reside on the mainland except in Zhejiang Province.
2. Chiang Ching-kuo would govern Taiwan with high autonomy but surrender military and diplomatic powers.
3. Taiwan would cease receiving U.S. aid and be supported by the People’s Government.
4. Taiwan’s military, including its air force, would be integrated into the People’s Liberation Army.
5. Xiamen and Kinmen would merge, forming a buffer zone for cross-strait exchanges.
6. Taiwanese officials would retain their ranks and benefits.
The Communist Party responded positively, encouraging peaceful reunification. Yet Chiang’s hesitation and doubt persisted. By 1966, new political upheavals on the mainland stalled any progress, and Taiwan’s reintegration remained unresolved.
Despite this, Chiang frequently reminisced about the happier days spent in his hometown.
Nostalgia for Home
On an ordinary afternoon of October 31, 1887, a newborn’s cry pierced the calm of a small town in Fenghua County, Ningbo, Zhejiang Province. That infant was Chiang Kai-shek. Born into a family of salt merchants, his childhood was modest but adequate. His parents lovingly named him Ruiyuan, symbolizing their hopes for his future.
With his father busy managing their salt business, Chiang was mainly raised by his mother. Known for his mischievous nature, he was nicknamed the “Rogue Ruiyuan,” but he deeply respected and obeyed his mother.
As a child, Chiang once faced a life-threatening incident. While playing with friends near the Shanxi Creek, sudden flooding trapped the small boy, who was too short to escape the rising waters. Rescuers arrived just in time to save his nearly lifeless body. His family sought medical help far and wide to restore his health.
Yet, the happiness of Chiang’s early years was fleeting. His grandfather died in 1894, his father in 1895, and two younger siblings passed away young. His mother, Wang Caiyu, bore the heavy responsibility of raising him alone under difficult conditions.
This hardship steeled Chiang’s resolve to achieve greatness and repay his mother’s sacrifices. He abandoned his earlier mischief, dedicating himself to study. With his aunt’s support, he later went to Japan to study abroad, experiences that profoundly shaped his destiny.
Chiang’s deep affection for his hometown, Cixi, was intertwined with his love for his mother. In 1949, as defeat loomed, he returned with his son Chiang Ching-kuo to visit his mother’s grave on Phoenix Mountain. Standing there, he wept silently, perhaps knowing this farewell would be eternal.
His attachment to Fenghua is glimpsed in many of his life’s moments. Youthful ambition gave way in old age to a heartfelt yearning to return home — a sanctuary representing his fondest memories. The melancholy of a wandering soul, no wine could dispel.
Soong Mei-ling Reveals the Final Secret
In his twilight years, Chiang’s desire to return home grew ever stronger, especially as his health deteriorated. Despite the companionship of his wife Soong Mei-ling and a life of comfort and authority, the wish to return remained unforgotten. Often, he stood on Taiwan’s shores, binoculars in hand, gazing toward his homeland.
In spring 1971, Chiang was diagnosed with incurable prostate inflammation. Refusing to surrender, he underwent two surgeries that only worsened his condition. Eventually, he was forced to rely on a catheter for daily life. For a proud man like Chiang, this was a devastating blow, draining his strength and spirit. In his final years, all power and luxury lost their meaning.
By 1974, his health was frail beyond recovery. Hospitalized with pleural effusion, doctors warned surgery was essential for survival. The operation prolonged his life briefly, but thereafter, he suffered from relentless physical and mental torment, frequently battling colds and fevers, rarely leaving the hospital.
That spring, he showed brief signs of recovery, often asking nurses to accompany him for walks outdoors to enjoy the spring scenery. Yet on April 5, 1975 — Qingming Festival — he suddenly fell unconscious and passed away. His dream of returning home remained unfulfilled.
As noted, Chiang’s body was never buried in the usual way but preserved specially, and the mystery of his swollen lower body clad in seven pairs of pants baffled many.
This secret was finally revealed in Soong Mei-ling’s later years during an emotional interview. She explained that Chiang’s dying wish was never to be buried underground until Taiwan and the mainland were reunited. Only then would he rest beside Sun Yat-sen’s mausoleum in Nanjing.
Wearing seven pairs of pants was also part of a local Fenghua custom for the deceased. Traditional Chinese burial rituals require the dead to wear “shouyi,” a set of garments often including four upper pieces and three lower pieces, collectively called “seven pieces of shouyi.” Customs vary by region, and in Fenghua, this was the tradition.
As a wanderer in his final years and a devoted son, Chiang’s last wish was simple: to rest eternally closer to his mother in their hometown. Thus was born the story of the seven pairs of pants at his burial…
