Fermented fish products always arrive before you do.
Before the lid is lifted, before the bowl is set down, the time inside the jar announces itself—sharp, deep, oddly alive. Maybe that’s why people keep trying to attach an origin myth to them: Who invented this? Which country did it first? Which ruler tasted it and gave it a name?
Recently, I heard a story in that exact mold:
“Emperor Wu of Han chased the ‘Dongyi’ to the seashore, smelled something incredible, discovered fermented fish innards, and even named it.”
And then—almost automatically—someone stitched that “Dongyi” (夷) to “our ancestors,” as if the character were a secret code pointing neatly to one modern nation.
So… is it true?
Let’s do something more dangerous than cheering or mocking it: let’s read it carefully.
1) Yes, the text exists — but a text is not the same thing as a fact
The anecdote does appear in a classical source. In a section on making 鱁鮧 (zhúyí)—a fermented fish-innards paste/sauce—《齊民要術》 (Qimin Yaoshu) includes a little “how it got its name” story: Emperor Wu, pursuing 夷, reaches the seashore, smells a fragrance, has people search, and discovers fishermen fermenting fish entrails buried in a pit; the tale then claims the name comes from “pursuing (逐) the Yi (夷).” (위키문헌)
Here’s the first trap:
Classical naming stories (名物起源談) are often built to make a word feel inevitable, not to record an event like a battlefield report. Food names, especially, attract these “explain-the-word” narratives—because when something is delicious, strange, or old, people want it to have a story that feels worthy of it.
So the presence of the story tells us something real—just not necessarily what modern retellings want it to tell.
2) The second trap is even bigger: 夷 is not a single ethnic “password”
A lot of modern retellings quietly do this:
夷 / 東夷 appears
→ therefore “Korea (or a specific Korean kingdom) appears.”
But in many East Asian classical contexts, 東夷 is not a clean, one-to-one proper noun for a single ethnic group. It often functions as a relative, Sino-centric category—a label for “eastern” outsider groups, varying by time, author, and political agenda. The term is slippery on purpose, because it was frequently used from the center outward, not from a community inward. (EncyKorea)
So if a TV segment takes “逐夷” and translates it as “chasing Gojoseon” or “chasing Goguryeo,” that isn’t translation anymore—it’s modern desire driving the sentence like a stolen car.
3) A useful twist: some later readers already suspected the story was an after-the-fact attachment
Here’s where it gets interesting: the skepticism isn’t only modern.
A later text discussing the same anecdote basically says, in plain terms: Emperor Wu may have traveled widely, but he didn’t literally “chase the Yi to the sea,” and the name explanation is likely an 附會—a forced, convenient story attached to match the word. (shidianguji.com)
That doesn’t “debunk” fermentation history. It reclassifies the anecdote:
less “documentary record of an imperial discovery,”
more “a clever etymological tale that sounds like history.”
4) What we can say — and what we can’t responsibly claim
What we can say with confidence
A classical manual preserves both a fermentation method and an origin/naming anecdote connecting “逐夷” and “鱁鮧.” (위키문헌)
The label 夷 / 東夷 often operates as a broad, context-dependent category rather than a single, modern ethnic identifier. (EncyKorea)
Even in later tradition, readers recognized the naming tale may be a retrofitted explanation (附會) rather than a literal historical episode. (shidianguji.com)
What we cannot honestly “lock in”
the exact location of that “seashore”
the exact identity of “夷” in that line (including any confident modern mapping)
the idea that an emperor “invented” or “discovered” fish sauce on-site like a reality show cameo
If anything, the most solid takeaway is this:
fermented food history is real, but naming legends are often literary technology—designed to make a word feel destined.
Game-modding angle (safe, fun, and actually strong)
Civilization-style Wonder ideas
1) Qimin Yaoshu (齊民要術) — Knowledge of Preservation
Unlock: Medieval era (or equivalent “scholarly administration” tech/civic)
Effects: boosts food yields from coastal resources, adds a science bonus tied to storage/preservation, and grants a unique project:
“Household Techniques” → choose one reward: Food / Gold / Science.
2) Fish-Sauce Workshop (魚醬作坊) — Supply Lines in a Jar
Unlock: Classical era
Effects: coastal trade bonus + naval unit supply/movement perk (symbolizing preserved rations & logistics)
Key design rule: treat fermentation as infrastructure, not identity.
Paradox-style event chain
“The Scented Rumor”
Trigger: coastal province + rising urbanization/trade
Branch A: Promote it (tax/logistics bonus; elite backlash: “filth” narrative)
Branch B: Ban it (stability short-term; underground economy long-term)
Branch C: Rebrand it (prestige bonus; scholar faction disputes over “true origin”)
And yes—you can include a flavor-text mini-event titled “The Character 夷” where scholars argue whether it’s a specific people or a vague category… and the player’s choice affects legitimacy, not “historical truth.” That’s exactly the point.
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