by Cheng Nien
“No. I don’t think I should try to contact anyone abroad when the political situation here is so uncertain.”
“What if they try to get in touch with you?”
“I have already thought of that. If I receive any letter from anybody abroad, I will take it to the police and ask them whether I should respond.”
“That’s wise. The political situation is not good. Jiang Qing is making a comeback. Have you noticed that there are many more reports about her activities in the newspaper lately? I also heard that Chairman Mao is relying on her more than ever,” Mr. Hu told me.
“Why do we have to suffer so much just because there is a power struggle in the Party? We are not even Party members!” I exclaimed helplessly.
In spite of the heat, the restaurant was crowded. Mr. Hu and I were able to talk freely in the din of voices filling the large room.
The night was hot and oppressive. I suggested that we walk back instead of taking a bus full of passengers. The streets we passed were crowded with people sitting on stools fanning themselves or sleeping on cots. Their homes were so hot and overcrowded that they had to go to the streets for a breath of air. The population of Shanghai had increased from under four million to ten million since the Communist Party took over the city. Yet little additional housing had been provided by the government, and private individuals had not been allowed to build. The result was several families sharing a house, several generations sharing a room, and the rooms being partitioned again and again. In the feeble light of the low-voltage street lamps, the street scene of Shanghai was one of depressing poverty, rather like a refugee camp.
Mr. Hu was correct when he said that the political situation was deteriorating. In the latter half of 1974, the name of Jiang Qing appeared with increasing frequency in newspaper reports from Beijing, a sure sign of increasing power. She received foreign dignitaries on Mao’s behalf or in her own capacity as a revolutionary leader and a Politburo member. She played hostess to visitors from abroad, inviting them to special performances of her model plays, and held conferences with them to discuss affairs of state. Almost every day there was either her picture or an account of her activities prominently displayed on the front page of the paper.
The “Criticize Lin Biao Campaign” became a campaign to criticize both Lin Biao and Confucius. Jiang Qing personally directed the campaign through her control of the press and all major publications. Maoist writers were organized by her associate Yao Wenyuan to supply the newspapers with a steady flow of articles, and the entire population was mobilized through their indoctrination study groups to take part in the campaign. Scant attention was paid to Confucius’s philosophy. Article after article stressed the little-known fact that when Confucius was fifty years of age he was made an official in the Kingdom of Lu and for a short time undertook the duties of the prime minister. It was claimed by the Maoist writers that Confucius was a retrogressive upholder of conservatism and therefore a hindrance to progress.
The Chinese people were left in no doubt that Jiang Qing’s campaign to criticize Confucius was in fact a campaign against Prime Minister Zhou Enlai. The name of the ancient sage was used as a code name for the ailing prime minister. The anti-Confucius articles further claimed that in Confucius’s time there existed in China another school of thought that was progressive, the legalists. The struggle between these two schools of thought was compared to the struggle between the Revolutionaries and the “capitalist-roaders.”
Weary of the power struggle among their leaders, the Chinese people, including the rank-and-file Party members, were on the side of their prime minister. Rumors about Jiang Qing abounded, many no doubt invented to discredit her. She was such an unpopular figure that outlandish tales of her private life of self-indulgence and sexual promiscuity became the whispered entertainment of the masses. The more serious-minded worried that Mao Zedong seemed to be siding with his wife and the other radical leaders. They thought that perhaps he was alarmed by the speed with which Zhou Enlai, through Deng Xiaoping, was reversing the trend of the Cultural Revolution and that he feared a total repudiation of himself and what he had advocated during the Cultural Revolution.
With the increased political tension caused by the campaign to criticize Confucius and a revival of the Cultural Revolution hyperbole, several of my students dropped out. They were afraid that learning English was going to be taboo again. The Residents’ Committee also stepped up its activities. One hundred percent attendance rate at study group meetings was required. Knitting was no longer allowed. More and more people were organized to stand up and support the Criticize Confucius Campaign. The Lin Biao part was dropped. A-yi reminded me to wear only my cotton jacket when I went out so as not to attract attention. Our daily fare became leaner and leaner as she became more and more reluctant to patronize the peasants who snuck into the city with their eggs and chickens for sale.
At the beginning of winter, an extraordinary event warned me of the fact that I was again in danger of being incriminated.
Among Meiping’s friends who came to visit me during the year was a young woman peasant by the name of Chen Lan. Before she started working at the Shanghai Film Studio, my daughter had to spend six months at the Malu People’s Commune outside Shanghai to “experience the life of a peasant” in accordance with a decision of the State Council. She lived with Chen Lan’s family, sharing their life and work. The two girls became good friends. According to Chen Lan, Meiping taught her to read and write, opened her eyes to the larger world outside her narrow existence, and introduced her to such girlish pleasures as cold cream and shampoo. Chen Lan told me that Meiping once saved her mother’s life when the woman was suddenly taken ill. There was no one else at home. In a boat borrowed from their production brigade, Meiping rowed her mother through the creeks to the county hospital in time for an emergency operation. After that Chen Lan’s family treated Meiping as a daughter, and the two girls became sworn sisters.
When she came to see me, Chen Lan brought me a large photograph of Meiping taken with her and several other peasant girls of the village. Through her tears, Chen Lan said, “This is my most treasured possession. But since you lost all your photographs, I want you to have it.”
I told her that I would get copies made and then return the original to her. But for several months I could not find a photographer’s shop willing to do this simple work. One day I was on the point of going out to try the shops at the other end of the city across the Suzhou creek when I heard knocking on the door at the foot of the stairs. Presently A-yi went down. Then I heard a man’s voice saying, “I’m her daughter’s friend.”
A moment later, A-yi came into my room followed by a stocky young man of medium height.
I put down the photograph I was looking at and stood up.
“My name is Liu Xing. I’m Meiping’s friend,” the young man introduced himself. Then he held out a gift-wrapped box and continued, “I heard that you were out of detention, so I have come to see you to find out if there is anything I can do for you. This is Changbaishan ginseng. It’s unobtainable in Shanghai. I was in the northeast on business, so I got a box for you.”
A box of Changbaishan ginseng was a very expensive gift. It would cost a worker a full month’s wage. I wondered what he hoped to get from me in exchange for such an expensive gift. I said, “It’s very kind of you to think of bringing me ginseng, but I never use it. How did you get my address?”
“The Revolutionary Committee of the Shanghai Film Studio gave it to me when I went there to inquire.”
This was an obvious lie, because Chinese officials never obliged private individuals like that. Somehow I did not believe he was Meiping’s friend. He did not look or speak like the type of young man my daughter made friends with. Why had he called on me? What did he want? I was curious and wanted to find out. Deep in my heart, at the same time, I had the feeling that he was probably sent by those who wished me ill.
“A-yi, will you please bring a cup of tea to our guest?�
�� I went to the door and called to A-yi in the kitchen. My polite gesture was reassuring to my visitor, who smiled and relaxed. He sat down on the chair I indicated and placed the box on the table.
I sat down too and asked him, “Did you come to our home before the Cultural Revolution? How is it that I don’t recall seeing you? And Meiping never mentioned your name to me. She used to tell me about all her friends.”
“You were very close, mother and daughter, weren’t you? You were devoted to each other, everybody knows that. That’s why I have come to discuss a very important matter with you.” He leaned forward and said in a confidential manner, “I know some people who could help you hit back at her murderers. These people do not want any money or reward. They feel sorry for you. They simply want to help you.”
What an extraordinary offer, I thought. The correctness of everything that had taken place during the Cultural Revolution had been repeatedly reaffirmed by official propaganda during the campaign to criticize Confucius. For me to try to do anything at all about my daughter’s death was certain to take me right back to the No. 1 Detention House. Quickly I said, “I’m not interested in hitting back at anybody. I’m very sad my daughter had to die as she did. It was entirely unjustifiable and unnecessary. But she has died. Nothing will bring her back.”
“How can you be so magnanimous! It’s your duty as her mother to avenge her death,” he said.
“I believe her death will be avenged. I believe the government will carry out an investigation when the time comes. I have full confidence in the People’s Government. You haven’t told me where and when you knew Meiping.”
“I met her when she was at the Malu People’s Commune. She lived with a peasant family there. I used to visit her and have a chat.”
“Were you at the Malu People’s Commune?”
“Yes. I was doing some scientific work there. That’s when I met her.”
Was he really Meiping’s friend, as he claimed? Did he really meet Meiping at the Malu People’s Commune? I thought I could check his story. I said, “Since you were at the Malu People’s Commune and met Meiping there, you must know Chen Lan, the girl Meiping was very friendly with.”
“Oh, yes, indeed. I used to see them together,” he said hastily.
I picked up the photograph of Meiping with the group of peasant girls and handed it to him. “Someone gave me this photograph. I have never met Chen Lan. Could you tell me which one of these girls is Chen Lan?”
He examined the photograph and pointed at the girl with her arm around my daughter’s shoulder. It was a good guess, but the girl he pointed out was not Chen Lan. Chen Lan was standing at the end of the row, not near my daughter at all.
His mistake was proof that he had not known my daughter at the Malu People’s Commune, if at all. Why had he come? Was it just to persuade me to attempt to avenge Meiping’s death so that I could be induced to do something wrong? Or was there something else he hoped to achieve? Because I did not speak, he thought he had made the correct guess. Emboldened by his success, he said, “I’ll come to see you often and let you get to know me really well. I’m interested in world affairs. I’m sure I can learn a lot from you. You can learn a lot from me too because I’m a scientist. If you do not want to meet those people I told you about face to face, I could be your emissary.”
“Why should you want to do that? Isn’t it dangerous to oppose those involved in my daughter’s death? Are they not Revolutionaries backed by powerful people?” I asked him.
“I loved Meiping. Ever since I heard she died, I can’t stop thinking of her. I hate her murderers no less intensely than you do. I would be glad to do anything to have her death avenged,” he said with mock sincerity, pretending to be very sad.
“You loved Meiping? You must have known her quite well, then. It’s strange that she never mentioned you to me.”
He went red in the face. “I loved her from a distance. She did not know it. It was a case of ‘one-sided longing.’ “
“I can see you are a romantic. But I think we should wait for the government to avenge her death. No matter how angry we are, we have no legal right to act.”
“The present government will never do anything! They are behind the murderers, can’t you see? How can you expect them to do anything?” He raised his voice impatiently, perhaps feeling disappointed that I had not swallowed the bait.
“Please calm down. You mustn’t malign the government. To say the government is behind the murderers is counterrevolutionary. I cannot allow my guest to talk like that in my home,” I warned him in a stern voice.
“You are a careful woman. It doesn’t matter what we say in private. After what happened to Meiping and to yourself, you must hate the Communist Party and the People’s Government, even though you don’t say so.”
“You are quite wrong. I do not hate the Communist Party or the People’s Government. But I’ll think over what you have said. If I change my mind, I’ll get in touch with you. Will you please show me your work pass so that I can verify your identification and copy down your address?” I asked him.
“There is no need for you to see my work pass. I’ll write down my address for you.” He seemed flustered by my request.
“I must see your work pass if you expect me to trust you,” I insisted.
Reluctantly he took out his work pass and handed it to me. I put on my reading glasses and examined it. The pass was issued by a factory identified by a number only. Everyone in China knew that such factories belonged to the army. And stamped across the pass was the word “confidential.” He seemed to be a technician engaged in some sort of confidential work at a weapons factory.
My strongest defense during my imprisonment was the fact that I did not know anybody who knew government secrets. To be in contact with someone doing confidential work in an army factory would not only make it impossible for me to leave China but would also open the way to all sorts of false accusations against me.
I opened the door of my room and called A-yi. When she came, I said, “I want you to be a witness to what I’m going to say to our guest.”
Turning to the man, I handed his work pass back to him and said, “Liu Xing, I forbid you ever to come to see me again. I have ‘foreign connections’ and have been wrongfully accused of being a spy of the imperialists. As a scientist at a factory doing confidential work, you have committed a serious mistake by coming to see me. When you go back to your factory, you must report to your Party secretary at once and confess your mistake. You must report to him exactly what you said to me and what I said to you.” He just stood there, looking embarrassed.
“A-yi! This is a serious matter. You must never open our door to admit this young man to our house.”
Opening the door wide, I said again to Liu Xing, “I presume you are a Party member since your work is confidential. I’m astonished that you did not know better. I should really denounce you to the police. Now go! Don’t ever come back.”
He went without a word. But I discovered he had left the box of ginseng on the table. I sent A-yi to give it back to him, but he had already disappeared on his bicycle.
I was furious about the whole episode and abandoned my plan of going out. A-yi brought me a cup of tea and said, “Don’t be angry. It’s not worth it.”
A little while later, Da De dashed up the stairs and said rather breathlessly, “Ah, you are home! That’s good!”
“You know very well I’m home,” I said to him.
“What’s wrong? Are you angry about something?” He professed surprise.
“You know exactly what’s wrong.” I handed him the box of ginseng and said, “Take it back. And tell them to stop their stupid tricks.”
“I’ll take away anything you don’t want. But I won’t tell anybody to stop their stupid tricks. Why should I? Why not let people play their tricks? Why not have a good laugh? Why should you be afraid of tricks? Aren’t you smart enough to see through any trick and make the people playing them uncomfortable?” Da D
e said in his cynical way.
“It’s so dishonest!” I said.
“Why assume anybody should be honest? After what you have gone through, you should know that to be honest is suicidal. Dishonesty is the best policy nowadays!”
“Please go, Da De! I’m not in the mood to listen to your nonsense,” I told him.
“I’m only trying to cheer you up. Well, I’ll come when you feel better tomorrow.” He went, taking the box of ginseng with him. I wasn’t at all sure he would return it to wherever it came from. I had a sneaking suspicion that he took it home and gave it to his mother as a present. Da De was that sort of person.
16
The Death of Mao
LIU XING’S VISIT WAS not an isolated incident. He was followed by a series of visitors all claiming to be my daughter’s friends. A few I knew by name, but I had met none of them in our home before the Cultural Revolution. They did not come together but one at a time. And they sometimes came at night. After talking about Meiping’s death for an hour, I was sure to have a sleepless night.
“A-yi, do you mind not opening our door to so many visitors who claim to be my daughter’s friends? All they want to talk about is what she must have gone through at the hands of her murderers and how I must try to avenge her death. I’m tired of hearing the same thing day after day.”
“I have to open the door as long as I’m here. I know you are being harassed by these visitors. After you have talked to them, you always look quite ill. But what can I do? Perhaps you had better discharge me. You can easily manage on your own,” she said, looking distressed.
“Can you find another job?” I asked her.
“Frankly I like being here with you. I’m not likely to get another job with the same pay and working conditions,” she said.
I did not want to discharge her. But she had obviously been told to admit visitors who called on me. As long as she was here, she could not refuse to open the door. I would have to think of some way out.