Gengsheng Xing was baptized into the Montgomery Chinese Branch in 2002, shortly after his arrival to the US. Both his wife, Kairong, and his son, Yifei, were baptized in the previous year before him. He always displayed great dignity and kindness and perseverance under all circumstances.
Brother Xing was born in Lanzhou, China to Zhen Xing and Yafu Wang. He was the oldest of 5 children and grew up through the Cultural Revolution. At Xi’an Technological University, he earned his bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and later completed a PhD in bioengineering at Lanzhou University. He started his research in emerging nanotechnologies, but he was involved in a serious accident that left him partially disabled.
After he immigrated to the United States, he devoted himself to one of his greatest lifelong passions, literature, and translated classical Chinese literary works into English. He is survived by his wife, Kairong, their son, Yifei, and two cherished grandchildren, all of whom were sources of immense pride and joy for him.
Obituary
Gengsheng Xing was born in Lanzhou, China, into a close-knit family of five, the eldest son of his father, Zhen Xing, and mother, Yafu Wang. He grew up alongside his younger brother and sister during a challenging period in China’s history. Like many of his generation, his early years were shaped by the hardships of the Cultural Revolution—experiences that forged in him a deep resilience, quiet strength, and a lifelong appreciation for knowledge and opportunity.
Driven by curiosity and a love of learning, he pursued higher education at Xi’an Technological University, where he earned his bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. His passion for scientific discovery later led him to complete a PhD in bioengineering at Lanzhou University. He began his career as a mechanical engineer and continued to expand his academic and research interests, focusing particularly on emerging nanotechnologies.
His life took a difficult turn when he was involved in a serious accident that left him partially disabled. Yet even in the face of adversity, he refused to be defined by hardship. His determination guided him through recovery and toward new paths. In time, he immigrated to the United States, where he devoted himself to one of his greatest lifelong passions: literature. With remarkable dedication, he spent his later years translating classical Chinese literary works into English, helping to bridge cultures and share the depth and beauty of Chinese history and storytelling with new audiences.
He was a devoted husband to his wife Kairong Cui, with whom he built a life of partnership, perseverance, and love. He is survived by his wife, their child, and two cherished grandchildren, all of whom were sources of immense pride and joy for him.
As a first-generation immigrant, scholar, engineer, and translator, he leaves behind a legacy of intellectual curiosity, cultural connection, and quiet courage. His family and all who knew him will remember him warmly—for his gentle spirit, his unwavering resilience, and the rich life he forged through both triumph and challenge.
Gengsheng Xing passed away peacefully on November 13, 2025. May his memory be a blessing and an inspiration.
悼詞，王未明
大家好，今天在這裡，心裡有些沉重。二十多年前，我透過教會認識了邢奕飛一家人，也認識了邢更生叔叔，也算是看著他、也被他看著從一個懵懂的青少年一路成長到今天。原以為那些浸潤在日常瑣碎裡的平凡來往會一直這樣持續下去，如今再回想，才發覺那些看似不起眼的細碎時光，早已如同溫潤的玉石般，被歲月打磨得愈發珍貴，凝結成了永遠停留的記憶。叔叔離開了，我懷著不捨來送他最後一程，也想把這些年來的點滴說一說。
最初認識叔叔的時候，他還能拄著拐杖慢慢走動。那時候，每次去他們家，他都會抬起頭來，看我們一眼，露出那種有點靦腆又帶著寬厚的笑，他的笑容從來不帶絲毫張揚，總是那麼輕柔而祥和，瞬間驅散了陌生感。當時的叔叔，雖行動不便，卻依舊保持著對生活的熱忱與對周圍的關注，後來隨著身體狀況日漸變化，他的行動越來越受限，從最初的難以遠足，到後來連走出房門都成為一種奢望。但無論身體如何，他身上始終有一種安靜而沉穩的氣質。
那時候的他，總是安靜、帶著一點拘謹地和我們這些年輕人相處。他從來不會主動打擾誰，卻總是禮貌、耐心，用他自己的方式參與生活。剛認識的時候，我們都還小，也常去教堂，那會兒叔叔偶爾也會去。他不一定會坐在我們旁邊，但會坐在長椅上，用自己的步調聆聽、思考、觀察這個世界。
後來，身體越來越不方便，他能活動的地方慢慢縮到只有房間那麼大。對於一個曾經能夠自由行走、自主打理生活的人來說，這樣的日子無疑是生命中的考研，可他從未向我們流露過半分委屈與抱怨。每次登門探望，他依舊是那般沉靜安然，聽我們講述外界的瑣事。關於身體的疼痛、生活的苦楚，他始終絕口不提。但只要在房間多站一會兒，就能看出來：他每一次抬頭、每一個想做卻沒做成的動作，都是在和自己的身體較勁——不聲張，也不認輸。
隨著時間的推移，他的手腳愈發遲緩，力氣也沒有以前大了，可他始終固執地想把每一天過完整，好像只要他不倒下，生活就還能維持原來的樣子。那份沉著，是硬撐出來的；那份安靜，是咬牙咬出來的。正是在那些最難熬的日子裡，他用自己僅有的力氣，和這個世界保持著連結──就算那條路已經很窄，他也想再往前邁半步。
他依然堅持做著力所能及的事情，讓生活保持著某種溫度與色彩。在他的房間裡，擺放著一張小小的書桌，他會在書桌上翻譯古文，將一篇篇古典文字逐字逐句地譯成英文；也會寫一些小故事，把心底的所思所想、對生活的感悟、對過往的追憶都化作文字。他是認真對待這些創作的，也希望有一天能讓更多人看到。但此刻，發表與否、傳播多少已不再重要。重要的是：這些文字讓他仍然和世界保持聯繫，讓他在受限的身體裡保有一個完整、自由的精神空間。
在這些年裡，我也看著崔阿姨一路悉心陪伴叔叔。她要照顧家庭，要工作，生活裡大大小小的事情都落在她肩上。人都會累、都會有情緒，但她始終撐著，把能做的、該做的事情，一件件堅持下去。這個家之所以穩穩地運轉，很大程度靠的就是她的堅韌和付出。叔叔的生活裡，因為她，多了一份安定和安心。
這麼多年了，崔阿姨從未離開過這份責任，也從未放下對叔叔的照顧。那些日復一日的瑣碎與操勞，我們這些外人未必完全看得見，但我們都能感受到她的辛苦。
二十年是很長的時間。我看過叔叔緩慢行走的樣子，也看過他後來逐漸安靜下來、只能臥床的日子。每一次推門進去，看見他抬起眼的那一瞬間，我都會感覺到：他仍然在關注著身邊世界的變遷，只是方式變得更輕、更靜了。他的話不多，但每一個眼神傳達他深藏的惦念和牽掛。
如今叔叔已然離去。於他而言，這或許掙脫長久以來病痛的束縛；對親友而言，卻是心中一個難以彌補的空缺。一份突如其來的失落和不捨。我們縱有萬般不捨，只希望他從此不用再忍受病痛。
我所認識的叔叔，沒有喧鬧的人生故事，也沒有刻意追求的不凡境遇。他這一生走得不快，卻始終穩穩、踏實。即便後來身體不由己，他從未有過半句抱怨，只是把心境放得更靜，把能堅持的那些小事做得盡量完整。這樣的人走了，就像老房子裡的一盞明燈悄然熄滅 —— 光影雖漸漸黯淡，但溫度還在，依舊縈繞(ying2 rao4)在我們身邊，未曾隨著他的離去而消散。
今天，我們送他。不需要華麗的措辭，也不用刻意拔高過往，唯願以這些年他留下的真實點滴，說出樸實的心裡話。我謹代表我的家人，向XGS叔叔表達我們的懷念。我們都記得他、也會繼續記得他的沉穩和堅持，還有那些細微卻真實的善意。
叔叔的生命旅程在這裡停了下來。從此以後，他不再需要和病痛鬥爭，也不再受身體的限制。願他安穩地走完這一程。在過去這些年裡，他帶給大家的那份平靜和踏實，那份在逆境中的堅守與善意，那份對生活最純粹的熱愛，會繼續指引著我們認真對待每一天的生活，不辜負時光，不辜負生命。願叔叔安息。
Eulogy by Kevin Wang
Hello everyone, I feel heavy-hearted being here today. Over twenty years ago, I met Xing Yifei and his family through church, and I also met Uncle Xing Gengsheng. I watched Yifei grow from a naive teenager to who he is today. I thought those ordinary interactions, steeped in daily life, would continue indefinitely. Looking back now, I realize that those seemingly insignificant moments, like warm jade, have been polished by time, becoming increasingly precious and etched into lasting memories. Uncle has passed away, and I come here with heavy hearts to bid him farewell. I also want to share some of the moments we have had over the years.
When I first met Uncle, he could still walk slowly with a cane. Back then, every time I visited their home, he would look up at us, revealing a slightly shy yet kind smile. His smile was never ostentatious, always so gentle and peaceful, instantly dispelling any sense of unfamiliarity. Athough physically disabled, he maintained his enthusiasm for life and his concern for his surroundings. Later, as his health deteriorated, his movements became increasingly limited, from initially struggling to walk far to eventually even leaving his room becoming a luxury. But regardless of his physical condition, he always possessed a quiet and composed demeanor.
Back then, he always interacted with us young people quietly, with a touch of reserve. He never bothered anyone, yet he was always polite and patient, participating in life in his own way. When we first met, we were all young and often went to church; my uncle would occasionally go too. He wouldn't necessarily sit next to us, but he would sit on a bench, listening, thinking, and observing the world at his own pace.
Later, as his health declined, the space he could move around in gradually shrank to the size of his room. For someone who had once been able to walk freely and manage his life independently, this was undoubtedly a test. Yet, he never showed us a trace of grievance or complaint. Every time we visited, he remained calm and serene, listening to us recount the trivialities of the outside world. He never spoke of his physical pain or the hardships of life. But if you stood in the room for a while, you could see it. Every time he looked up and every movement he tried to make but couldn't, was a struggle against his own body, silent yet unwilling to give in.
As time went by, his limbs became increasingly sluggish, and his strength waned, yet he stubbornly tried to live each day to the fullest, as if life could continue as before as long as he didn't collapse. That composure was forged through sheer willpower; that quietude was born from gritting his teeth. It was during those most difficult days that he used his remaining strength to maintain a connection with the world. Even if the path was narrow, he wanted to take another half step forward.
He continued to do what he could, keeping life warm and vibrant. In his room, there was a small desk where he translated classical Chinese texts, painstakingly transcribing each passage into English. He also wrote short stories, transforming his thoughts, reflections on life, and memories of the past into words. He toke these creations seriously and hoped that one day more people will see them. But at this moment, whether they are published or how much they are disseminated is no longer important. What matters is that these words kept him connected to the world, allowing him to maintain a complete and free spiritual space within his physical limitations.
Over the years, I've also watched Aunt Cui diligently accompany Uncle. She had to take care of the family, work, and handle all the big and small matters of life. Everyone gets tired and has emotional ups and downs, but she always persevered, persisting in doing what she could and should do. The family's smooth operation largely depended on her resilience and dedication. Uncle's life has gained stability and peace of mind because of her.
For so many years, Aunt has never abandoned this responsibility, nor has she ever stopped caring for Uncle. Those daily chores and toil, we outsiders may not fully see, but we can all feel her hardship.
Twenty years is a long time. I've seen my uncle walk slowly, and I've seen him gradually quiet down, confined to bed. Every time I pushed open the door and saw him raise his eyes, I felt that he was still paying attention to the changes in the world around him, only in a lighter, quieter way. He didn't talk much, but every glance conveyed his deep concern and longing.
Now Uncle has passed away. For him, this may be a release from the long-standing shackles of illness. For his family and friends, it's an irreparable void in their hearts. A sudden sense of loss and reluctance. Despite our deep reluctance, we only hope that he will no longer have to endure pain.
The uncle I knew didn't have a noisy life story, nor did he deliberately pursue extraordinary circumstances. His life wasn't fast, but it was always steady and grounded. Even when his health deteriorated, he never complained. He simply calmed his mind and did his best to complete the small things he could manage. Such a person is gone, like a lamp in an old house quietly going out—the light may have dimmed, but the warmth remains, still lingering around us, not fading with his departure.
Today, we bid him farewell. No need for flowery words, no need to elevate the past. We only wish to express our heartfelt feelings through the genuine moments he left behind over the years. On behalf of my family, I express our deepest condolences to Uncle. We all remember him and will continue to remember his composure and perseverance, and his subtle yet genuine kindness.
Uncle's life journey has come to an end here. From now on, he no longer needs to fight illness, nor is he limited by his body. May he peacefully complete this journey. Over the years, the peace and steadfastness he brought to everyone, his perseverance and kindness in adversity, and his purest love for life will continue to guide us to cherish each day, to live up to time, and to live life to the fullest. May Uncle rest in peace.
