Life and Death in Shanghai

by Cheng Nien

  When Mr. Hu came at four o’clock, I served him tea and biscuits that A-yi had ready in the kitchen. Then I told him I had been knocked down by a man on a bicycle and had nearly been run over by a bus. I expected him to sympathize with me, show alarm, or maybe just say he was sorry. But he stared at me with great seriousness and said, “Please let me take care of you! If you would allow me to look after you, I would be so happy.” He seemed to be under emotional strain, as his voice was not altogether steady.

  Was this meant to be a marriage proposal? I wasn’t sure. And because I had been preoccupied with what had been happening around me, he caught me by surprise. He seemed embarrassed by my silence. Hastily he added, “Do you think marriage is for young people only? Perhaps I shocked you with my blunt proposal?”

  “Oh, no, not at all. I think it perfectly all right for older people to marry. And I’m sure many women would be proud and happy to be your wife. As for myself, though I am grateful to you and flattered by your proposal, I am bound by a vow I made to my late husband that I would remain Mrs. Cheng to the end of my life.”

  His kind face softened into a wistful smile. He took my hand in his and said reluctantly, “I don’t know about other women. I have waited … But never mind! I must respect your resolution to remain faithful to your husband. I have always had the greatest respect and affection for him. He was a very fine person.” He let go of my hand after giving it a gentle squeeze.

  The awkward moment passed. I had not caused Mr. Hu to lose face by a flat refusal. That was not the Chinese way.

  After his proposal, Mr. Hu continued to visit me from time to time. He was always pleasant and attentive. But the interval between his visits lengthened until he resumed his old practice of calling on me on Chinese New Year’s Day only. In 1978, he came specially to tell me that he had been rehabilitated and restored to his former position as assistant manager and chief engineer at his factory. He was busily coping with post-Cultural Revolution problems and trying to resume full production.

  “I’m working sixteen hours a day. I wish I were younger and could do more. There is so much to do and so much to learn. I have become rusty,” he said, looking so happy that he seemed suddenly to have shed ten years of his age.

  In 1980, when I was given a passport to leave China, I wrote to him to say goodbye. He came to see me at once and told me he had thought all along that I wished to leave China. But I do not think Mr. Hu ever understood why I had chosen the uncertain prospect of starting a new life in my old age in some foreign land rather than settling down quietly with a ready-made family in my native country.

  To have received a marriage proposal from a worthy man at the age of sixty was pleasant, if not exhilarating. I was in a good mood in spite of my aching limbs when Da De came for his lesson next morning.

  I had unlocked the front door and was just finishing breakfast when I heard him bounding up the stairs. I looked at the clock. Da De was twenty minutes early.

  “You are early today,” I said to him when he appeared at my door.

  “I have something exciting to tell you.” He came into the room with a big smile. “I may be going to Beijing in the not too distant future.”

  “Indeed. Have you been offered a job?” I asked him.

  “Not yet. But I may have a wonderful opportunity.” He sat down across the table from me.

  “Would you like a cup of tea and a piece of toast?” I asked, as I knew Da De was always hungry.

  “Some toast would be nice.” He went into the kitchen and came back with four whole slices of toast, which he ate in no time at all. I wondered whether he had eaten breakfast, but I did not ask.

  Taking a book from his bag, Da De asked me, “Do you think we could study this today?”

  The book was Emily Post’s Etiquette. “Why do you want to study that? The contents of this book are of no use to a Chinese.”

  “Not unless the Chinese is to become a diplomat stationed abroad,” he said.

  “I see. Is that your exciting news? Is that why you are going to Beijing? Are you going to the Foreign Affairs Institute to train as a diplomat? If that’s the case, congratulations!”

  A-yi arrived and came to my room right away. “Are you better today?” she asked anxiously. “Are you still sore all over?”

  “Thank you, A-yi! I’m a lot better.”

  She cleared the table and left the room. Da De asked me, “Have you been ill?”

  “I was knocked down by a man on a bicycle and nearly run over by a bus. I thought you knew already,” I said.

  Da De went red in the face and said indignantly, “How could I know? Do you think I’m behind every unpleasant thing that happens to you?”

  “No, I don’t think you are behind them. That would be giving you too much credit,” I told him. Da De winced and looked ashamed for the first time since I had known him. “But I do think you are in the know; you are usually told. I think that whoever is behind all the unpleasant things happening to me trusts you.”

  “You don’t understand. You think people are free agents. They are not. And the world isn’t divided into good men and bad men. In any case, good people are often compelled to do bad things, and bad people can also do good things. You will never know the things I have done for you. It doesn’t matter. I’ll only say that I’m not a piece of stone. You have been decent to me. Often I think you are kinder to me than anybody I have known except my own mother. Do you think I would allow someone to knock you down with a bicycle and have you run over by a bus?” Da De said this in a wounded tone of voice.

  “My goodness! You have gone soft! If you weren’t told, that’s bad. It wouldn’t do, would it, if you were no longer trusted,” I said sarcastically.

  Da De asked, “Are you sure it wasn’t just an accident?”

  “The street was empty. He didn’t have to hit me. However, the bus passing at that precise moment might have been coincidental.”

  “The whole thing could have been an accident,” Da De argued.

  “No, I have seen the same man before. The man who helped me up told me the man had a mop of black hair and a bright-colored bicycle saddle.”

  From Da De’s expression, I thought he knew who the man was. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Would you be angry if I give you a little advice?”

  “Fire away!” I said, leaning back in my chair ready to listen to him.

  “Do you realize there are people in positions of power who hate your guts? You make them think you despise them. They want to be looked up to, feared, and respected. But they think you laugh at them. Why don’t you hide your contempt for them and just take it easy sometimes?”

  “How do I ‘take it easy’?” I asked Da De.

  “Don’t react when something happens. Don’t get angry. Look at that notice you put down there outside your door. Nobody in China does a thing like that. A man’s home may be his castle in England, but it isn’t the case in China. When you don’t allow people to come see you freely and you send A-yi away in the afternoons, naturally people wonder what you are up to. Do you realize the Housing Bureau could have put another family in your other room when A-yi moved out?”

  “There is no bathroom. Another family cannot come through my bedroom to go to the bathroom, can they?” I asked Da De.

  “You simply have no idea how people live in Shanghai,” Da De said. “There are many families in this city living in rooms without bathrooms. The Housing Bureau didn’t send another family here. It’s a special consideration. You should realize it.”

  “You puzzle me. Why should I be harassed and persecuted on the one hand and be given consideration on the other?”

  “I can’t tell you more than to advise you not to look upon the situation in a simplistic way. In every government department, there are many people with power to do things. They don’t always agree, especially nowadays. The situation is extremely complicated. Just remember, there are people who feel sorry for you. They know you have been victimized. They very muc
h regret the death of your daughter. Please try to be meek and resigned. The political struggle has reached a crucial stage. Why suffer more than you have to?”

  “All right! Wise Da De! I’ll try to be meek and resigned, as you say. But life will be very dull, won’t it?”

  “No, life won’t be dull. Many things are going to happen,” Da De said.

  “Such as Da De going to the Foreign Affairs Institute to train as a diplomat,” I said, changing the subject.

  “I’m not going to the Foreign Affairs Institute for training. Comrade Jiang Qing has said that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs must be reorganized. Young men and women faithful to our beloved Chairman Mao’s teaching are going to be sent there. She said, ‘Mix some sand in the sticky clay to loosen it up.’ The Ministry of Foreign Affairs has been under Chen Yi and Premier Zhou for so long that it has become an independent kingdom full of capitalist ideas. The proletariat must now march in.”

  “Will you be going abroad right after getting to Beijing?” I asked him. From Da De’s remark, I thought Jiang Qing wanted to take over the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

  “That I don’t know. Comrade Jiang Qing wants some Revolutionaries in every embassy abroad. There will be resistance. It’ll be a struggle. But backed by Chairman Mao, she will get her way. My name has been included in the list from Shanghai. I hope I’ll be chosen. My English is a lot better than that of others on the list.”

  “I hope you will be chosen, Da De. It will be a break for you. Better than to stick around with the Revolutionaries you are mixed up with now. They seem to me to be a bunch of rascals.”

  Da De went red in the face again. But he did not argue with me and defend his comrades.

  We spent the morning studying the elementary principles of etiquette. When Da De left, he was happy in anticipation of a brighter future. Having served the radicals for so many years, he believed he would be rewarded.

  During 1975, the campaigns of denunciation in the press were like the tidal waves of the sea. When one subject was exhausted, another subject was introduced with a deafening roar. When the people’s indignation against the ancient sage Confucius was deemed to have waned, other topics of denunciation were presented to stimulate their interest. In this way, the Maoists built up what they called “revolutionary momentum” and kept the pot boiling.

  One day, the Shanghai Liberation Daily came out with a long article that occupied a full page of the newspaper, which had only four pages, denouncing a film about life in China made by a famous Italian filmmaker, Antonioni. At our study group meeting, the article was read to us, and Antonioni was condemned in no uncertain terms. None of us had ever heard of Antonioni, and we did not know that he had come to China and made a film. Furthermore, the film was never shown in any Chinese cinema, so that no Chinese had actually seen it. I carefully studied the long article, reprinted from the People’s Daily, the official Party organ, as well as other articles published subsequently to echo its views. Gradually I realized that the denunciation of Antonioni was aimed at whoever had given him permission to come to China to make the film. The article alleged that every shot taken by Antonioni to show poverty, backwardness, and ugliness in China was a reflection of the reactionary thoughts of those who had made it possible for him to do so. What’s more, it seemed the film had been used by several Chinese embassies abroad to entertain guests. Chinese politics operated by gossip and whispering campaigns. It was not long before I learned that the real targets of this attack on Antonioni were Prime Minister Zhou Enlai and First Vice-Premier Deng Xiaoping. It seemed they had given Antonioni permission to make the film, and they were of course responsible for the embassies abroad.

  There were many other instances like the campaign against Antonioni, too numerous to record here. All of the denunciations were in fact veiled attacks directed against either the prime minister or the vice-premier, who was working hard to restore production both in the factories and in the rural communes.

  One day, I was told by my one remaining student besides Da De that Zhang Chunqiao, the Party boss of Shanghai, a Politburo member and a longtime associate of Jiang Qing, had said, “We would rather have socialism’s lower production figures than capitalism’s higher production figures.” The radicals in the rural areas took up his statement and proclaimed, “We would rather have socialism’s poor harvest than capitalism’s abundance.” Not to be left behind, other radicals declared, “We would rather have socialism’s trains that are behind schedule than capitalism’s trains that are on time.” In such an atmosphere, the workers became fearful of doing too much, the peasants became reluctant to go into the field, and drivers of trains, buses, and even mules deliberately slowed down so that they could arrive behind schedule. The already strained economy took another tumble. With their controlled propaganda machinery and widespread network of radical organizations, which had been developed during the Cultural Revolution, the Maoist leaders succeeded in sabotaging Deng Xiaoping’s effort to put China’s economy back on its feet.

  The newspaper headlines and the voices from loudspeakers screamed daily, “Hit back at the rightist wind of reversing the verdict of the Cultural Revolution!” What did the radicals mean by “the verdict of the Cultural Revolution”? They meant that Deng Xiaoping had been denounced as a “capitalist-roader” during the Cultural Revolution. This “verdict of the Cultural Revolution” should not have been reversed by Deng’s rehabilitation in 1973. The atmosphere became increasingly tense. Anything that incurred the displeasure of the radicals was interpreted as “attempting to reverse the verdict of the Cultural Revolution.” And they used this slogan to block any further attempt to rehabilitate old officials. Once again, the Chinese bowed their heads and walked on tiptoe, fearful of treading on dangerous ground or appearing less than totally submissive.

  The program to modernize industry, agriculture, science and technology, and the armed forces, popularly known as the Four Modernizations Program, first proposed by Prime Minister Zhou Enlai, had been adopted by the People’s Congress. Oblivious of the radicals’ propaganda war, Deng Xiaoping went on with his efforts to normalize life in China and implement the Four Modernizations Program. Entrance examinations for universities and colleges were reinstituted. But as a concession to Mao’s ideology, the candidates for the examinations first had to complete a period of manual labor in a factory or rural commune. The radicals’ answer to Deng’s decision to restore entrance examinations was to announce the discovery of a young hero by the name of Zhang Tiesheng in Liaoning province. Zhang Tiesheng, according to press reports, did not answer any of the questions on the examination paper but wrote an essay on the back denouncing the effort by the “former capitalist-roaders” to take China backwards to pre-Cultural Revolution conditions. He declared in conclusion, “We must hit back at the rightist wind of reversing the verdict of the Cultural Revolution!”

  Zhang Tiesheng became a hero the radical leaders urged the Chinese young people to emulate. He was sent on tours of the country to “warn” the people of the importance of “hitting back at the rightist wind.” Since the Party secretary of Liaoning province, Mao Yuanxin, was Mao’s nephew and a close associate of Jiang Qing, the Chinese people realized at once that the whole business of Zhang Tiesheng was manufactured by the radical leaders and that the young man simply acted according to their instructions.

  Once again, to read a book or to study any subject at all became taboo, just as in the early days of the Cultural Revolution. My only other student besides Da De, a disabled girl, became very frightened. I told her to study at home but to come to visit me as a guest from time to time so that I could correct her essays. I also told Da De to stop coming regularly for his lessons.

  One evening, I was in the garden cutting the last of the roses before the frost. I saw Mrs. Zhu’s working son seeing a man off at the front gate. When he came back he asked me whether he could speak to me. I invited him upstairs.

  “Did you notice the man I was seeing off? He is a great frien
d of Vice-Chairman Wang Hongwen. When Wang Hongwen organized the Shanghai Workers Revolutionary Headquarters to overthrow the municipal government and the Party Secretariat in January 1967, he was Wang’s trusted lieutenant. They have remained close friends ever since. Whenever Wang Hongwen comes to Shanghai, he is always invited to wine and dine with him.” He carefully watched my reaction as he told me this.

  Obviously he was leading up to something, so I listened but made no comment.

  “Well, he is going to Beijing in a few days’ time at the invitation of Vice-Chairman Wang. He is in a position to help you. A word in the ear of the vice-chairman and all your troubles are over,” he said.

  “What trouble do you think I’m in?” I asked him.

  “For one thing, you haven’t been properly rehabilitated. And your daughter died in mysterious circumstances. I suppose you would like to see her death avenged. All of that can be done by a word from Vice-Chairman Wang.”

  “Do you mean to say that your friend can enlist the help of Vice-Chairman Wang Hongwen to ‘reverse the verdict of the Cultural Revolution’ for me?”

  “To reverse the verdict of the Cultural Revolution is not allowed. It needn’t be called that if Vice-Chairman Wang takes a personal interest in the matter. It would be called ‘clarifying the case’ or something like that. Of course, you’ll have to pay for it, but not more than you can afford. Your money is in the People’s Bank; they will know how much to charge you. And you can even get an exit visa to go to Hong Kong for as little as ten thousand yuan,” the young man said.

  While I was astonished to learn that the famous hero of the January Revolution that toppled the Shanghai municipal government and Party Secretariat, Vice-Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party Wang Hongwen, was indulging in large-scale corruption, I also realized the danger I was in if I should fall into this trap. So I smiled at him and said in as friendly a voice as I could muster, “You are really very kind to offer to help me through your friend. I’m most grateful. But at the moment I have no plans to go to Hong Kong. As for my rehabilitation and the death of my daughter, I expect the People’s Government will do whatever needs to be done when the time comes. It would be presumptuous of me to trouble such an important person as Vice-Chairman Wang Hongwen with such a trivial matter.”