On Wednesday evening, while driving to pick up my child from school, my wife called to tell me that my cousin’s baby had been born. Hearing this news, I suddenly felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
Clan Heritage
Before I turned 10, my grandfather taught me to recite the generational hierarchy of our family lineage, structured like a five-character quatrain. It consisted of 14 lines covering 70 generations.
The first four lines—汉志友仁芳，崇天福寿长，希圣文才广，兴隆永代昌—were compiled in the 3rd year of the Jiaqing era (1798). The next four—华显思承绍，安邦嗣彦良，富贵家声振，久远发书香—were added in the 28th year of the Daoguang era (1848). The final six—忠孝光前烈，精诚植纪纲，品望清时重，勋名奕世彰，蕃衍绵甲第，继续耀南湘—were appended in 1912.
Before this generational sequence, there were 24 earlier ranks: 伯逢居均，仕子庆大，德原材必，敬克荣魁，添少洪祖，千万汝膺.
Based on my limited historical knowledge, I suspect these 24 ranks predating 1798 were likely retrospective reconstructions rather than an inherited system. The first ancestor in this sequence corresponds to the 2nd year of the Later Tang’s Tongguang era (924), during the first major migration into Hunan when large numbers of people from Jiangxi’s Jizhou moved to central and eastern Hunan.
However, it’s improbable that only 24 generations existed over the 900 years from 924 to 1798, as this would imply roughly 35 years per generation—far longer than the standard 25–30 years used in historical studies.
A more plausible explanation is that these 24 ranks were simply the verifiable ones at the time of compilation, with many generations lost to history. Official records from the Five Dynasties to the Song and Yuan periods are scarce, and small clans like ours likely didn’t prioritize preserving genealogies, unlike prominent families such as the Kongs (descendants of Confucius).
I’ve searched local chronicles for clues, but unfortunately, all county records before the Kangxi era (Qing Dynasty) have been lost. The earliest mention of our surname in Hunan appears in 1250, during the Southern Song, when a child prodigy from our county was recorded.
By the Ming and Qing dynasties, many with our surname appear in records, mostly from our county and nearby regions. Given this, the 924 timeline isn’t entirely implausible, though the lack of pre-Song records makes it hard to confirm.
Over the past two decades, I’ve often discussed clan heritage with friends. While many resonate with the topic, few can trace their lineage clearly. In today’s progressive society, indifference toward such traditional concepts is understandable—engaging with them often brings more frustration than benefit. Yet, this mindset has been ingrained in me for nearly 30 years.
Family Legacy
I now understand why my grandfather emphasized clan heritage when I was young. Of his nine siblings, six were male, but by my father’s generation, only two sons were born—my cousin and me. Meanwhile, my father’s generation had nearly 30 cousins. With such numbers, most opted for single-child families, leaving just eight male cousins in my generation sharing the same great-grandfather.
Typically, families span three or four generations. In my case, it’s four: from my grandparents to my children.
For years, my cousin struggled to marry, leaving my children as the sole fourth-generation descendants until my grandmother passed away in early 2024. Her final wish was for my cousin to have a child (he married in late 2023). Fortunately, by mid-2024, we learned his wife was pregnant, and this smooth delivery fulfills my grandparents’ last hope. Now, the burden of continuing the family line no longer rests solely on me.
Naming My Cousin’s Daughter
I’ve toyed with naming ideas since 2014, before I was married, as seen in this whimsical article. My own children’s names followed those early concepts.
This time, with AI assistance, the process became easier. Factors like the Five Elements, numerology, phonetics, name uniqueness, and historical or poetic connotations could all be analyzed efficiently.
Yet, it wasn’t simple. Some names aligned with the Five Elements but had poor numerology; others carried unintended negative associations. Many characters were unusable due to prior family usage.
Eventually, the prerequisites piled up—12 conditions in total, including 40 banned characters or pronunciations. The AI’s performance wavered, sometimes missing criteria or fabricating false information.
After a night of AI queries and phone discussions with my uncle, we sifted through dozens of names and settled on 贺清妍 (He Qingyan).
Ironically, this was the first name I’d suggested. The entire process mirrored a scene from Nezha 2: Demon Child’s Rampage, where Nezha’s body is reforged—sometimes, the first choice is the right one.