This episode we cover the archipelago at the turn of BCE to CE through the eyes of the Chinese chronicles.  We take a look at what the Chinese thought was the founding of Japan in the Qin dynasty, as well as the disruption to the islands caused by the Xin dynasty interregnum between the early and late Han dynasties.  We also look at the earliest recorded missions to China, as well as the fortunate discovery in the 18th century of the famous seal of the Kingdom of Na.

For more go to: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-10

Rough Transcript

(Auto-transcript courtesy of listener, Zach)

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 10, "The Islands of the Immortals." Over the past few episodes, we've discussed how rice agriculture came to Japan and how that led to stratification of the society. Then we looked at how bronze and iron arrived, another key component of this period. Finally, we took a look at language. Not only about the language that the new culture brought and developed, but how it defined them to those outside and how it gives us clues as to the connections that were made across the straits. We also talked a little bit about how the modern Chinese pronunciation is not quite the same as the older Chinese pronunciation. Now, we are slowly going to ease our way into the historical period, and we're going to start with the text with the oldest reliable, or, well, at least semi-reliable information, the Chinese Chronicles. Now wait just a minute, some of you are probably saying, "Don't the Japanese Chronicles go back even further than those?" Well, yeah, you're right, they do, or at least they purport to. I mean, the Nihon Shoki gives us a firm date for the formation of Japan at around 660 BCE, and that seems reasonable now that we look at it, right? I mean, with the Yayoi period pushed back to the start of the first millennium, it is possible that things started back in 660 BCE, right? Yeah, not so much. First off, the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki are both being written in the early 8th century, so that's over a thousand years later. And the date of 660 BCE can be reliably traced to an historical theory that was being used to demonstrate that change that had put the patrons of the Nihon Shoki on the throne was part of a natural process, one that came every thousand or so years. Therefore, they figured that the previous date had to be the start of that cycle of years, so 660 BCE. From there it was a matter of figuring out how to stuff all of the sovereigns in there so that there was a nice clean line from the sun goddess Amaterasu to the current ruler. Therefore, the dates for many of the events, even if they did occur, are suspect. Many of the events may have happened or may allude to something that happened and was remembered through the ages, but without further context, it's hard to match the story up to the archaeological findings. The Chinese chronicles, while still written after the fact, and sometimes even hundreds of years after the fact, are still much closer to the contemporary events. And the fact that we can't really line up the Chinese and Japanese sources suggests that there are some potential problems with one or the other. Given that the Chinese sources were composed closer to the contemporary events and that they likely used even more contemporary sources in their composition, I tend to see them as more reliable, at least for this early period. That said, we will eventually be looking at the Japanese sources. For now, we are still laying some groundwork so that when we do get to the actual Japanese chronicles, we'll have an understanding of what was happening so that we can put the stories we read into context. So that leaves us with the Chinese chronicles. In particular, we have the Hō han shu, or the Chronicle of the Later Han, written by Fan Ye, and the Wei zi, or History of Wei. There is actually a history of the early Han that has brief mention, which we touched on back in episode 8, but given the brevity of its entry, there really isn't much to say. By the early Han period, there were 100 Wa states, or guo, koku in the Japanese pronunciation. We don't know what these so-called "states" were, but we suspect they were groupings we see of larger settlements with several smaller satellite settlements around them. Basically city-states. Chinese reports of earlier contact are more detailed, but much less believable. The earliest contact, according to Chinese tradition, was back in about 1000 BCE, when a messenger came from the Wa and paid homage to the king of the Zhou dynasty and brought him a fragrant herb, chang zhao, for making wine for his ancestral altar. Of course this would have been just at the start of the Yayoi period, meaning that it's more likely that it was possibly someone from the southern Korean peninsula or even Shandong, assuming the "hua" refers to anyone speaking Japonic, that is. Now another legendary account comes from the time of the Qin dynasty. Now the Qin emperor, Qin Shi Huangdi, who united China and is buried with the terracotta warriors outside of Xi'an, is said to have been obsessed with immortality. He commissioned searches for an elixir of immortality that would allow him to live, and rule, forever. In fact, we found wooden slips that record responses from a few of the towns and provinces in the empire, either respectfully declining, claiming that they could find no such elixir, or sending back herbs that might be useful. However, there was one account that seemed promising. Xu Fu, a native of Qi, the state on the Shandong peninsula, submitted a memorial and claimed to have knowledge of three mountains in the eastern sea, on one of which the immortal sages lived, thanks to the power of a plant that could grant them immunity from death. This was the mountain called Penglai. The Qin emperor decided he had to have this mythical herb, and he granted this alchemist ships as well as funding and manpower to go in search of this mysterious Penglai and find this rare herb. Xu Fu left, but unsurprisingly, could not find this non-existent island. It's possible he went looking, or equally possible that he took the funds and lived a life high on the hog. Either way, he went through the funding and apparently didn't find anything. Except that he didn't just send back a memorial to the court. No, several years after setting out, he decided to go back to the court, but he knew he couldn't just go back empty handed. After all, the Qin emperor was not exactly known as the picture of mental stability. You see, apparently several of the elixirs of immortality that had already been offered to the Qin emperor included something called cinnabar, also known as mercury sulfide. Of course, mercury is poisonous and can have serious mental side effects. You may be familiar with the term "mad as a hatter"? This came from the fact that in the 19th century, creating hats relied on mercury as a key part of the process, and as the hat industry grew, hatters began to exhibit symptoms of shaking, slurred speech, tremors, and even hallucinations. Mercury poison can also result in irritability, memory problems, depression, and anxiety. In a regular person, this can be debilitating. In a sovereign at the top of a terrifyingly efficient and legalist bureaucracy, well, I'm sure you can imagine the effects. In fact, in the latter years of his reign, the emperor was almost entirely sequestered, with his senior officials running the government. Given his options, Shufu likely decided that maybe describing failure to a not altogether sane and with-it sovereign who holds the power of life and death over everyone in the kingdom was not the best idea. And so he decided to concoct a story about his journeys. And it was quite the story he came up with. He told the court how he had indeed set out in search of the fabled island, to which there were no maps. Out in the ocean, he and his crew had met a god of the sea, yep, that's right, a god of the sea, who had indeed led him to an island. The stories he wove told of a miraculous place, including the legendary herb. But here was the kicker. You see, Shufu's mission may have found the herb, but they couldn't acquire it, as the price was just too dear. Shufu then listed off an exorbitant list of items that included young boys, virgins, and craftsmen of every kind, which the immortals of Penglai required in exchange for the herb of longevity. Certainly, Shufu figured this would be the end of it. The court wouldn't go for this twice. The price must be too steep. Well, whether it was because Shufu was just that good at weaving such stories, or perhaps due to the effects of the mercury poisoning, the Qin emperor apparently took his story at face value. Regardless of what his advisors may have said, the Qin emperor was obsessed with immortality, and he would do anything to achieve it. He ordered a fleet of ships built, and sent Shufu and all of the people that had been requested, along with rice, millet, beans, and other seeds, off to go purchase this herb. Now of course, Shufu knew that there was no island, but he couldn't exactly back down now, so he took the ships and goods and set off. It's unclear if he had a particular destination in mind, but he certainly couldn't return back to the court one more time. Besides, he now had everything one might need to go off and live comfortably. And so he did that. He sailed off, over the horizon. And that might have been the end of it. Except that, once again, after a few years, members of the expedition reached back to the court. According to what they reported, they had not found the island of Penglai, but they had crossed the sea and found a land with large plains and lakes. They settled there, farmed and fished, and made a new life for themselves. Their messages back to the Qing court advised them of the happiness they had found and suggested that the Qin emperor too give up warfare and live in peace and harmony, and thus everyone could achieve longevity. According to the later Chinese historians, this land was what would eventually become Japan. For a long time, many people assumed that this story explained the origins of Japan. It was recorded by the acclaimed chronicler Sima Qian in the Qin Dynasty history, Records of the Grand Historian, and it was repeated in later histories. The Chronicles of the Later Han directly connected it with the Hua people, using it to explain where the Hua had achieved both their culture and their technological advances. There are even modern historians who have proffered the theory that Xu Fu was the first sovereign of the imperial line, Jimmu Ten-no. And of course there are certainly some compelling hints in the story. For one, Xu Fu's relationship to Qi on the Shandong Peninsula, which may have indeed been the jump-off point for rice agriculture to the Korean Peninsula and then on to the archipelago. Of course, archaeological evidence suggests that this was 1-3,000 years BCE and the Qin Dynasty is only in the 3rd century BCE, so the timing doesn't exactly work out. In fact, by that time, Yayoi culture had already spread up and down the archipelago, and even if there had been some form of protojaponic once spoken on the Shandong Peninsula, it was likely long gone. And of course the whole thing sounds a lot more like a morality tale than a factual historical account. Remember what I've said about fact versus truth in the past? Well here it is much more important that the author present us the truth, and appeal to peace over war, than that they provide historical fact. Regardless though, it is important to realize that this was seen as truth by various historians and chroniclers in both China and Japan, and it shapes how people view themselves and their relationships. It is possibly the reason that the later chronicles felt they had to mention how long-lived the Hwa are, rather than actual observed data, for instance. The story has resurfaced again and again throughout history, and whether or not it is what actually happened, knowing it still helps us understand the people and their thinking. So let's get back to what we do know. Well, we know that there were over a hundred Hwa states in the early Han dynasty, which immediately followed the Qing, sometime between the 3rd century BCE and the start of the 1st century CE. During that time, the various settlements in the archipelago, and presumably across the straits and even onto the peninsula, had set themselves up with one another in a balanced network of trading relationships. Many of the settlements weren't just set up in areas that were good for agriculture, but also in strategic locations, which allowed some control of the various trade networks. Though valleys and passes through the mountains and other such points became key settlement sites. As trade goods came across the straits from the continent, they would work their way through these settlements along the trade routes between them. This created a complex web of relationships between the various groups. These trade routes likely helped keep the various elites in their position, and based on the archaeological record, things appeared to be going pretty well. Then something happened on the mainland that disrupted things for a bit. There was a bit of a kerfluffle in the Han dynasty, which led to the extremely brief Xin, or New Dynasty, before the Han dynasty reasserted itself. Technically, this was a period that only lasted about fourteen years, from 9 to 23 CE, but those are only the official regnal dates for the one and only emperor, Wang Mang. He had actually been holding the reigns of government since about 1 CE, however, as the regent for several child emperors. Wang Mang was born in 45 BCE, and his family had some pull in the Han court. Long ago, his family had been the rulers of the state of Qi, which is where they picked up the surname of Wang, meaning "king". Rather ironic given his eventual trajectory in life, and his father, Wang Man, was the younger brother of Empress Wang Zhengjun, wife of the Han emperor Yuan. It is little surprise then that Wang Mang grew up to become an official in the Han court. Not only was his aunt the empress, and later Empress Dowager, but that meant his family was directly related to the imperial line. We'll see similar court marriage politics play themselves out in the Japanese courts, but for China this was old hat by this period. The most powerful position in the imperial court at the time, not counting the emperor and the imperial princes, was that of Da Sze Ma, minister of war and commander of the Han's military forces. This was held by a succession of Wang Mang's uncles, all members of the Wang family. Of course, just because they had the same surname doesn't mean that members of the Wang clan were all plain nice. Monks at the court were cutthroat and ruthless. Bribery and extortion were not uncommon, and courtiers were always looking for dirt on their political rivals. So in other words, how much has really changed? Wang Mang made both friends and enemies, and by 8 BCE he was appointed to the top spot in the Han government, Da Sze Ma, by his cousin, the Han emperor, Chang. It would seem he had it all. His cousin would only live another year, however, dying in 7 BCE, and a new emperor took the throne, Emperor Ai, nephew of the previous sovereign. Under Emperor Ai, things seemed to remain positive. Wang Mang's aunt was now the grand empress Dowager. Emperor Ai's grandmother, however, was from a different family, and she began to use her influence to support her own family's ascendance at the expense of the Wang clan. The event that saw things turn for Wang Mang was at a dinner when the Dowager empress Fu, grandmother to Emperor Ai, was seated next to Grand Dowager Empress Wang. Hu had been a consort to Emperor Yuan, only receiving the title of Dowager Empress after her grandson had become emperor, while Wang had been an empress proper. Wang Mang complained about this breach of protocol, angering the Dowager Empress Fu, who stormed out and left the dinner altogether. Wang Mang was forced to resign to assuage her anger. Wang Mang was not done with the court, however. Five years later, shortly after the death of Empress Dowager Fu in 2 BCE, he was summoned back to attend upon his aunt, the Empress Dowager. And then things got interesting. In 1 BCE, Emperor Ai died. The crown prince, who ascended to the throne as Emperor Ping, was still young, and so a regent was appointed. The former court official, Wang Mang, no doubt through the machinations of his aunt, the Grand Dowager. As regent, Wang Mang had found a position where he had even more power than previously. He effectively acted in the place of the emperor until Emperor Ping reached his majority. Wang Mang got to work quickly. He wasn't taking his time, and he used his new position to clean house in the Han court. He demoted Emperor Ai's relatives in court, the Fu and Ding families, and he made sure to fill the vacancies with members loyal to his own faction. Under his regency, Wang Mang tried to take the court back to what he believed was the height of civilization up to that time, the Zhou dynasty. He began to institute strict rules based on what the histories claimed to be the idealized Zhou society. Of course, as we've discussed before, the Zhou that they were reconstructing had likely never really existed, at least not in the romanticized form that it was described in the later histories. That didn't stop Wang Mang from trying. Wang Mang's purging of the court was not without bloodshed. Many of those who opposed his regency found themselves accused of crimes, falsely or otherwise, and either jailed, exiled, or put to death. As Emperor Ping grew older, he resented Wang Mang's actions. Therefore, in 5 CE, Wang Mang had the emperor poisoned. Emperor Ping had no children, and by that time there were no heirs left of Emperor Yuan. Wang Mang therefore took the title of "Acting Emperor" until a suitable candidate could be found. He ended up selecting a candidate who was only one year old, and naming him Crown Prince Ruuzi. By 9 CE, Wang Mang had finally decided to drop the pretense and had himself inaugurated as a new sovereign, the first emperor of the Xing Dynasty. He ruled for 14 years, but it was anything but smooth. Add to that the weakened position of the court since the death of Emperor Ai, and it's little wonder that we see various disturbances, particularly along the borders. The Xing Dynasty came to an abrupt end shortly after it had begun. In 23 CE, a rebellion swept through the capital, and Wang Mang was killed in his own palace. The Han Dynasty was then reinstated under the Han Sovereign, Emperor Guangwu. During the Xing Interregnum, however, some powerful changes had taken place that would have impacts on the Korean Peninsula and the Japanese archipelago. First off, in 12 CE, the state of Goguryeo revolted against the Xing Dynasty. Goguryeo had been founded in 37 BCE, claiming descent from the people of Puyo, and they appear to have been a Koreanic-speaking people north of the Le Lang and Xuan Tu commanderies. As you may recall from episode 8, the Le Lang commandery itself was one of four, along with Xuan Tu, Lin Tu, and Zhen Fan, that had been set up after the early Han Dynasty had finally defeated the Gojoson state about 108 BCE at the head of the Korean Peninsula, encompassing much of what is now considered North Korea. When Wang Mang decided to chastise the Xiongnu steppe people, he requested support from Goguryeo, but they refused to help and eventually began pushing on the Xing Dynasty's northern borders, which means that they were pushing on the borders of the four commanderies as well as the Liaodong commandery to the west. So why are we talking about all this? What does all this activity on the mainland and in the peninsula have to do with anything? Well, all of this change and inter-court struggle meant a disruption to Han trade networks. At this time, though the Chinese records say that there were over a hundred "states" of the Hwa people, these were, as we've mentioned, more like city-states, large cities with satellite settlements. Their placement suggests a highly interconnected system of trade, through which bronze and other goods made it to and from the various settlements in the archipelago. Think of it like the interconnecting blocks of a game of Jenga. When the chaos on the mainland interrupted the flow of bronze and iron, this had tremendous ripple effects throughout Hwa society, like a rambunctious puppy bumping the table. With limited resources on the archipelago, as well as various refugees fleeing the wars on the mainland, the intricate balance of trade networks could not remain standing. We see smaller settlements disappear, with evidence that more people are moving to the larger settlements, likely for protection from outside forces. Cemeteries and burial patterns are also disrupted, indicating a possible change in the status of elite members of society. It is possibly in this period that we see consolidation from simple city-states to fewer but larger polities. When the Han Dynasty reasserts control, relations are again established with the Hwa. The record of this period, the whole Honshu, is our first in-depth look at the Hwa people that isn't simply rooted in myth and old stories. That said, we still need to be careful. The whole Honshu is not a contemporary account, but was instead compiled in about 432 CE by the Song court official Fan Yi. Compare this to the Chronicles of the Way, one of the three kingdoms that followed the Han Dynasty, which was written in 280 CE by Chen Shou. In many instances, it appears as though Fan Yi cribbed his account from the Shou work, adding details from other official records that he had access to that were specific to the later Han Dynasty. And sometimes editorializing, possibly based on the contemporary knowledge of Japan and possibly based on earlier works. Unfortunately, there are no annotations by the authors of these early works, let alone a bibliography or reference section, and so extricating fact can be a bit tricky. For now, I'll give you the information as we have it and try to indicate where the two Chronicles differ or where things are specifically mentioned in the one or the other. So with the Han back in power and some stability restored, life in the archipelago can start to go back to normal, though it likely took time to recover. That's probably why it wasn't until 34 years after Guangwu brought back the Han, in 57 CE, that one of the states had the ability and desire to send an embassy to the Han court. Now Fan Yi claims that each of these Hua states, or at least each of the 30 that had contact with the Han court, was its own kingdom, with kings who inherited their position from generation to generation. This claim was not brought over from Chen Shou's Chronicles, and so it is an original addition by Fan Yi. In fact, the Wei Chronicles describe a system with a different leadership structure in each state, usually with at least a primary chief or governor and deputy or other officials, and only a few of the leaders are known as "kings." In fact, many sources prefer to refer to these various local leaders as chieftains, rather than as monarchs. I am reminded of some of the writings of the early Europeans upon contact with Japan. In their view at the time, the various daimyo were considered kings and named as such, with each province constituting its own kingdom. In truth, however, leadership and governance was much more complicated. So for now, let us just hold in the back of our minds this idea of independent monarchies and move forward with the concept that each of these states does have an elite at the top of the pyramid, and from the burial patterns, it does appear that elite status was inherited through family bloodlines. Though whether it was an inheritance through primogeniture, that is through the firstborn, or inheritance by the most senior living family member is unclear, and may even have varied from place to place. There is also no mention of whether inheritance was preferenced on gender or not, but as we shall see, the position could pass to either men or women. Also, the history of the later Han mentions that "the great king of Wa resides in the land of Yamato." As with the thirty states in contact with the Han court, this may be an anachronism based on Shen Shou's account in the Wei Chronicles which details an embassy from Yamato in 238 CE, some eighteen years or so after the fall of the Han dynasty. We'll talk about this more in a later episode, but for now it seems questionable for reasons that I think will become clear later on as to whether or not there was one single "great king" throughout the later Han period, though there may have been the early beginnings of hegemony and consolidation happening throughout the first couple of centuries CE. Oh, and since this is the first time it's coming up, in many instances people use the modern Sino-Japanese pronunciation of the characters for this early state, Yamatai, though the ancient Chinese pronunciation is probably more like Yamatug and later Jamadei, because there have for the longest time been questions as to whether or not Yamatai was actually the same as Yamato, the name for the Japanese state that would eventually come to consolidate power on the islands. This was complicated by the set of directions given in the Wei Chronicles which, if strictly followed, would lead one down the archipelago and into the Ryukyus and Taiwan. However, from the descriptions of the states and the state of the archaeological record, that is clearly not what was meant. The problem then becomes what was meant and whether it was simply directionality that was off, or if the distances were off as well. We'll talk about all of this when we really get into the rise of Yamatai-Yamato. For the most part, though, current scholarship seems to be coming down on the side of Yamato and Yamatai being the same, and so I'll be using the name Yamato unless I specifically need to make the distinction. Now one of the things that is interesting about this embassy in 57 CE is that the embassy was not sent by the "great king" in Yamato that Fan Ye mentions at the head of the entry. Rather, this embassy was from the ruler, or the king according to the Chinese records, of the Hua state of Na. This is the first formal embassy from the Hua that is recorded as such in the Chinese records. While there may have been an earlier history in 5 CE, factoring the regency of Wang Meng, it is recorded simply as having come from "a king of the eastern barbarians." So if the king of Na is sending an embassy, then let's go back briefly to the discussion of Yamato. Why wouldn't the embassy have been from the "great king of the Hua" in Yamato? This would seem to indicate that Na had some considerable political power amongst some of the Hua states. Indeed, it would need to have something as it would need to traverse through several other Hua states before its embassy could make its way to the mainland, indicating that either those states didn't realize that Na was passing itself off as the king of Hua, or that the king of Na was powerful enough that they acquiesced to his demands. It's also possible that Yamato wasn't exactly a real power yet. There's also the possibility that something else is going on, something similar to the name of the Hua in general. John Bentley suggests that Na in Old Japanese simply meant "land." In fact, we see it in the name of one of the deities in the Nihon Shoki. He points out that Ohokuninushi, or the "Great Country Lord," is also known by the name Ohonamochi, "the Great Land Holder." We do see Na in a lot of the early names on the island. Still, it seems that the country known simply as Na in the Wei Chronicles fits with this story pretty well, as we'll note here in a bit. Either way, it seems to indicate that whoever this is, the king of Na had some authority in the islands, and was not a subjugated vassal of any other state therein. Now we don't know what treasures or gifts were brought by the king of Na as ambassadors, but we do know what they received in return. A gold seal from the Han court. By itself, this wouldn't seem like much. Seals were often given out as gifts, and it was not an uncommon gift to a new state entering into the Chinese sphere. Seals were considered symbols of authority, meaning that the state of Na was not simply ruling by its own right, but that it had the approval of China, Zhongguo, aka Chugoku, the Middle Kingdom. Still, it might be nothing but a footnote in the historical record if it weren't for a farmer more than 1700 years later. You see, in 1784, a farmer named Jinbei was working in his fields on Shikano-shima, Shika Island, in modern-day Fukuoka Prefecture, and he found a stone. Actually, it ended up being a hole, lined with three stones and covered with a fourth. Inside was a gold seal. Printed on it were the words "King of Na of Hua of Han." For a long time, people doubted its authenticity. It seemed to line up just too closely with the record, and people thought it must be too good to be true. Furthermore, since it was made of gold, it is hard to date. You can't exactly carbon-date it. And since we don't have the context it was found in, other than Jinbei's report, we can't see where it was. Was it buried in a tomb with some great ruler? Maybe there was some turmoil and it was deliberately buried, but nobody was left to come and retrieve it. However it was lost, over time and scrutiny its prominence has generally been accepted. To be a forgery from 1784 would have required not only a knowledge of the history of the later Han, which was certainly available to scholars of the time, but it would also require a fairly detailed knowledge of the types of seal from that period. It has been compared against similar seals known to have been distributed by the Han court, and it does appear to be legitimate. And I don't think I can fully describe just how amazing a story that is. This is not a large seal. It's small. Tiny, even. For it to have been lost and found again is itself miraculous. That it would also happen to be mentioned in the Chinese histories is almost unbelievable. Now there is one thing that is of particular interest on the seal, something that differs from the text in the history of the later Han. You see, the word used for "wa" is not the same as that used in the history, nor the Wei Chronicles. Those use a term that would be read in modern times as "wou". The character on the seal uses a term that is read today as "wei". However, in ancient Chinese, both characters, which are almost identical except for the two-stroke person radical on the left-hand side, would have been read as something like "war", which takes me back to the "wa". There are many theories as to how all this came about. Why was the embassy from the kingdom of Na rather than Yamato? Why did they send an embassy in the first place? And then, after all of that, why would the seal be buried? I mean, even if the king died, wouldn't it have gone to the next king? What we do know is that the kingdom of Na would not maintain its independence forever. By the time of the Wei Chronicles, it would be a vassal state of Yamato. We really don't know how it happened, but we can see what happened later. We can also take a look at other states, such as Kibi and Izumo, and look beyond the standard Yamato narrative. Before we get into all that, though, we have one more mission to China to cover. That was almost 50 years after the mission by Na, and it is recorded as having arrived in 107 CE. This mission brought 160 slaves with them as tribute, and requested an audience with the Han Emperor, An Di. The entry is short, but it reads, "The kings of the land of Wa, Suisho and others, offered 160 slaves and asked to see the Emperor." Now this seems pretty incredible. We have a name, right? The name of a king, Suisho. Or at least we might have a name. You see, the way it's written, this whole thing is actually a bit vague. First off, I should note that in Chinese you don't specify plurals unless you are specifically making a point. And so we aren't sure if it is one king or multiple kings. We aren't even sure if it is meant to be king or lord, though king seems to be fitting in with the rest of what we've read in the chronicles. Then there's the name. Because Chinese uses characters that have meaning, but for foreign names they appear to be used simply for their sound, there is a question of how to parse the name. It could be that the name is something like Suishora. It could also be something like Commander Shou and others. And if we look at the Middle Ancient Chinese, rather than the modern Japanese on’yomi, it is more like Suishan Tang. So here we have the chronicles providing us information, but in many ways it just brings up more questions. For now, we'll have to leave it at what we know. And what is that exactly? Alright, so covering the period from about the 3rd century BCE to 107 CE, we have increasing contact between the Wa and the Chinese courts. At the earliest is the story of Shu, Fu, and Penglai, a story that has grown in the retelling and was linked to the Japanese archipelago early on. Earlier mentions claim that the Wa were bringing tribute as early as 1000 BCE, but it seems extremely unlikely that the Wa in these earliest instances were coming from the Japanese archipelago. It wasn't until the early Han records that we get our first reliable account of the Wa, and that simply mentions the numerous states and that they occasionally visited the Han court. There weren't enough records, though, of any specific missions or what they were like. And then we see how the Interregnum of Wang Mang disrupted trade and ultimately disrupted the archipelago. Finally, we see the states emerging out of the disruption and re-establishing contact with the later Han dynasty. First the state of Na in 57 CE, and then another king, Suisheng or Suishou, in 107 CE. The archipelago is going through continued changes. The early chiefdoms that would form the constituent polities of the Japanese state were coming together, forming themselves and competing with one another for resources and for some form of recognition. We'll take a look at that and we'll have a look at what life is like at this juncture. We'll even explore the community of Yoshinogari, a large settlement in northern Kyushu from around this time that has not yet been explicitly tied to any particular state from this period. So that's all for now. Till next time, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we're doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, we have information about our Ko-Fi site over at our main website, sengoku-daimyo.com/podcast, where we'll also have some photos of various artifacts that we've discussed, as well as references and other materials used for this episode. Questions or comments? Feel free to tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. That's all for now. Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.