Fu then visited many ancient tombs, caves and museums to study the use and function of incense as perfume and in rituals.
For about 40 days each summer from 1986 to 1989, Fu lived atop Mount Tai, Confucius’ favorite mountain, to test herbal incense he had made according to ancient formulas. Incense must be tested outdoors in unspoiled nature to prevent mixture with human and other smells.
Some ingredients and processes are very specific, such as melted snow in the heart of a plum blossom. Some herbs must only be gathered before dawn, and Fu always uses only eastward-flowing water, even today.
His multi-herb recipes date back to ancient times. He collected them from family members, friends and experts on Chinese culture across the country.
‘You have no fear, even before a bear!’
On Mount Tai, he slept on the ground or in trees, eating simple, dry pancakes. “Life was difficult but I was so free and happy,” he says.
One day, he was so engrossed in testing his burning incense that he didn’t notice that a bear had approached him, perhaps curious about the fragrance or interested in a meal.
“When I turned around and saw it, I wasn’t afraid at all. I just smiled and the bear went away quietly,” Fu says with a laugh. “When your mind is at peace and in harmony with heaven and earth, you have no fear, even before a bear!”
Fu was born in 1955 in Shandong Province, into a family of intellectuals descended from Fu Shan (1607-84), a famous scholar, calligrapher, poet, painter, physician and master of martial arts of the Ming (1368-1644) and Qing (1644-1911) dynasties.
His father was a veteran revolutionary soldier who was persecuted during the “cultural revolution” (1966-76). As a result, young Fu could not regularly attend school or find a good job.
He learned as much as he could on his own.
In one case, persecuted intellectuals were forced to clean toilets and do menial chores at a high school by day.
At night they secretly taught mathematics, philosophy, literature and science to Fu.
Fu got his first job when he was 15, in the countryside near his hometown.
At first, other farmers doubted his ability and were reluctant to pay him an adult wage. He protested. But a cadre promised to pay full wages if he and his partner were able to carry a 400-jin (about 440 pounds) pipe to the other side of a mountain.
“No one believed I could ever do it, but I succeeded!” Fu says. “When my partner and I returned, the cadre thought someone else did it for us. But I proved myself. A true man lives to prove himself.”
Life in the countryside was rough, but Fu remembers those days as among the best of his life. “Countryside people were simple,” he says. “And when you were tired, you would lie on grass on hill sides; when it was hot, you drank from a reservoir.” Because of his experience on a farm, Fu says, “there is no hardship I cannot endure. I learned to be upbeat in times of adversity.”
He became an all-around farmer, skilled at tilling the land, driving a horse cart, and everything else. “I was very proud of myself when I looked back and saw that the furrows I had tilled with an ox-drawn plow were in straight lines.”
In the early 1970s, Fu found work in an urban jade-carving factory. Since his father was being persecuted, he was banned from state-owned factories and joined a collectively owned enterprise. He earned 18 yuan (US$3) a month and was able to take vacations.
“Many workers with similar family backgrounds were disgruntled because we were all discriminated against at the factory, but I enjoyed my job,” he says.
His talent and willingness to learn were noted by a jade-carving master who advised Fu to observe nature and discover the beauty of heaven and earth if he wanted to carve artistically. Fu often rode a broken bicycle into the countryside to sketch mountains, rivers, clouds and trees, honing his ability to design decorative jade objects.
One day a tall and thin old man approached as he sketched and asked the name of his painting teacher. “I said, ‘I taught myself,’ but he didn’t believe me,” Fu recalls.
The old man was distinguished painter Zhang Zhenshi (1914-92), famous for painting leaders’ pictures, including Chairman Mao’s.
Fu became his student and, with permission from his factory, he enrolled in the Central Academy of Arts and Crafts in Beijing after the “cultural revolution” ended in 1976.
One day master Zhang took his students to an island for a drawing lesson to train their precision in creating likenesses.
When it was time for lunch, Zhang forbade Fu from eating, saying his figure sketch was not precise and telling him to identify his own faults. By 4pm, Fu thought he was nearly perfect so he moved on to adding shades.
“Master Zhang immediately grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed away my work. He then redrew the tip of a nose — my work was off by just a hair’s breadth!” Fu recalls.
Zhang himself was in his 60s, but every day at 4am or 5am he sketched at the seashore, taking along just a bun for food. In the cold, his shoes often froze to the ground. “From him, I learned what it meant to be meticulous,” Fu says.
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