Few books in China have been studied as much as “Dream of the Red Chamber.” So, you can imagine my surprise when I stumbled across a video in 2020 that offered up a radical reinterpretation of perhaps China’s greatest novel.

If we’re to believe the video’s creator, “Queen Instant Noodles,” the character Lin Daiyu doesn’t die tragically of a broken heart on the day of the wedding between her first cousin and true love, Jia Baoyu, and her foil, Xue Baochai. Instead, she marries Jia and personally witnesses the family’s downfall, re-casting her as a heroic figure and a martyr for her family.

Having studied Chinese literature at university, this is not the story I’m familiar with. The popular version of “Dream of the Red Chamber” is a love story that tracks the downfall of an aristocratic family. In this alternative version, however, the novel is presented as a metaphor for bloody dynastic transition.

It’s generally accepted that Cao Xueqin (1715–1763) authored “Dream of the Red Chamber” during the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), inspired by his family history, with the writer Gao E (1758–1815) later editing and adding parts. Cao’s original, unfinished manuscript, however, has long been lost, and multiple versions came into existence due to subsequent revisions.

The interpretation that Queen Instant Noodles puts forward is based on the lesser-known “Guiyou version” of the novel, which is a more recent “discovery.” In 2008, a netizen using the pseudonym He Lili claimed to possess a manuscript that was dated the “Year of Guiyou” — corresponding to 1753, or even 1693 — significantly earlier than the commonly accepted timeframe for the work’s composition and a full decade before Cao’s death in 1763, when the novel remained unfinished.

Comments on the manuscript supposedly stated that the original author was in fact the poet Wu Meicun (1609–1672), who lived during the late-Ming and early-Qing dynasties and created the novel to mourn the fallen Ming dynasty (1368–1644). According to this version of the novel, the protagonist Jia Baoyu represents a symbol of imperial authority, Lin Daiyu’s death mirrors the suicide of the last Ming emperor, and the woman he later marries, Xue Baochai, represents the Qing ruler.

This story would be truly earth-shattering. If “Dream of the Red Chamber” is an allegory of dynastic transition, and not a reference to Cao Xueqin’s family affairs, then almost every literary textbook would have to be rewritten.

I have mixed feelings toward the Guiyou version. On the one hand, I’m well aware that its authenticity is highly suspect. In a 2018 interview with the Guangming Daily newspaper, He Lili admitted to having fabricated the comments about Wu Meicun being the original author and has so far failed to produce the manuscript for verification.

While experts unanimously agree that the Guiyou version is a 21st-century forgery — and which no Chinese literature department deems worthy of serious study — fans of Queen Instant Noodles don’t seem to mind. In the comments section of one of her videos, one user wrote: “To be honest, I don’t care whether the book is true or not. I just like the story.” Meanwhile, other users suspect a conspiracy, suggesting that scholars have dismissed the manuscript as a fake to protect vested interests.

The more it’s debunked, the more popular the Guiyou version becomes. I think the reason for this is perhaps because its supporters are less interested in authenticity, and instead feel that this interpretation resonates with them on an emotional level. In their opinion, the novel would never have achieved the status of a classic if it were not about something deeper.

Efforts to read “Dream of the Red Chamber” as a grand historical metaphor can be traced back to the early 20th century. At that time, scholars such as Cai Yuanpei were attempting to find hidden meanings and allegories in literary texts, and suggested that the novel was a covert mourning for the Ming dynasty and a silent protest against the Qing dynasty.

However, this reading was rejected by a different school of thinkers, such as Hu Shi, who emphasized textual evidence and literary purity as opposed to political narratives. This latter approach won out and continues to exert its influence to this day, with mainstream scholars considering “Dream of the Red Chamber” as a study of Cao Xueqin’s family affairs rather than a historical metaphor.

However, supporters of the Guiyou version view this as an attempt by academic elites to exclude ordinary readers from literary debate, and consider the idea of “pure literature” antithetical to traditional ideas of writing as a method for conveying truth. In fact, even mainstream scholars must admit that the novel contains criticisms of feudal ethics and norms, although they downplay this political nature either intentionally or otherwise.

For proponents of the Guiyou version, the scholars today who deny the novel’s political narrative and refuse to take their questions seriously are just like the officials who censored the book back in the Qing dynasty. For instance, another comment under one of Queen Instant Noodles’ videos reads: “If ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ really was just a romance novel, then why was it censored during the Qing?”

Reading comments like these, I realized that people are drawn to the Guiyou version because of their desire for grand narratives and for literature to have greater practical significance. In a world fraught with war and economic stagnation, appreciating literary classics solely for their aesthetic merit just doesn’t seem right.

Meanwhile, the growing trend of everything moving online — which was supercharged by the pandemic — has left many people feeling increasingly isolated. They compensate for their lack of real-life connections by turning to videos on the Guiyou version. By embracing a provocative narrative to such a well-known and beloved literary classic in a shared space with like-minded “skeptics,” they are then able to find a sense of belonging.

While Queen Instant Noodles continues to post videos about the Guiyou version, I no longer watch them. Her content tends to rehash the same old ideas and lacks real evidence. I do however continue to follow the debate about the Guiyou version as a case study in popular culture.

The writer of a classic novel is undoubtedly important, but so too is understanding why so many people choose to believe an interpretation that is so flawed. Perhaps, by examining the appeal of the Guiyou version, it’s possible to better understand the divisions between academic elites and ordinary readers when it comes to questions of literature.

Translator: David Ball; portrait artist: Zhou Zhen.

(Header image: Details of an illustration depicting a scene from “Dream of the Red Chamber” by Qing dynasty painter Sun Wen. From the collection of Lvshun Museum)