The Lost Kingdom of Tsaifucius
失落的柴夫修斯王國
There was once a man called Tsaifucius, a dreamer who believed that fortune, courage, and imagination could build a kingdom of their own.
In the flourishing years of Taiwan’s property market, he made his fortune by buying and selling real estate. At the height of his prosperity, his holdings seemed like provinces scattered across a private realm: two condominiums, two shops, and three residential suites on Xinyi Road in Taipei’s Da’an District（臺北市大安區）; three commercial properties in Taichung（臺中）; a villa in Keelung（基隆）; one shop in Zhonghe（中和）; and another in Ximending（西門町）. Beyond Taiwan, he also owned two houses and two residential suites in Phnom Penh（金邊）, Cambodia.
His wealth once exceeded NT$200 million. Money came and went through his hands like a powerful river, and for a time he imagined that it would flow forever.
But ordinary prosperity could no longer satisfy him. He dreamed of possessing an island off the Cambodian coast—a small kingdom surrounded by blue water, coconut palms, and the endless murmur of the sea. There he would build a paradise of his own: part retreat, part community, and part independent realm of the imagination. He would not merely own property; he would become the founder of a kingdom.
Yet the dream collided with the laws of the real world.
Cambodian law reserves direct ownership of land for Cambodian citizens and Cambodian legal entities. An island is not merely a building floating upon the sea; it is land, often state land, protected land, or land that may only be leased or granted as a concession. A foreigner may sometimes secure a long-term lease or participate through a properly structured Cambodian company, but he cannot ordinarily purchase an island outright in his own name.
Thus, it would be more accurate to say that the government did not suddenly decide to stop selling islands to foreigners. Rather, Tsaifucius’s plan ultimately failed because foreign freehold ownership of Cambodian land was legally restricted, while any concession or long-term development agreement remained subject to government approval, registration, conditions, and possible cancellation.
The contract deposit（簽約金）was lost. The residence of D. I. Dirivera was never completed. Walls that were meant to shelter a future paradise remained unfinished beneath the tropical sun. Empty windows looked toward the sea, as though waiting for inhabitants who would never arrive.
The island kingdom vanished before its first flag could be raised.
Then came the decline. His investments in the stock markets began to fail. Properties that had once formed the proud provinces of his realm were gradually sold, lost, or dispersed. The estate dwindled; the great river of wealth narrowed into a quiet stream. One by one, the towers, shops, houses, and imagined territories disappeared from his map.
At last, Tsaifucius returned to the man he had once been—an ordinary soul devoted to literature, art, and travel, wandering freely across the world. He also returned to Tai Chi Chuan, dedicating himself to sharing and promoting its wisdom throughout the world.
He no longer dreamed of wearing a crown or ruling an island kingdom. The throne had dissolved into memory, the palace into an unfinished building, and the royal treasury into a story told at sunset.
Today, he calls himself merely a down-and-out poet. Yet perhaps he is not truly defeated. He lives according to his own idea of contentment, no longer burdened by the endless hunger to possess more. In the morning, he writes a few lines of poetry. Beneath the trees, he practises tai chi）, allowing each slow movement to soften the victories and failures of the past.
He once tried to conquer the world with wealth. Now he seeks only to master his breath, steady his heart, and pass the remaining years in peace.
But when he stands quietly between heaven and earth, moving his hands like clouds and turning his body like flowing water, Tsaifucius still rules one final realm—the small but unconquered kingdom within himself.
