by Anchee Min
"You'd better make use of those coupons before they expire."
"Will I get caught if I am seen?"
"Do it so that you won't get caught, big sister!" the woman gasped. "I've ... never ... gotten caught. Gee, this is torture."
The Mao picture in my mother's hands shook. "Thank you!" came Mother's voice from behind the frame.
"Oh, Buddha Heaven! I can't..." The woman's knee gave in.
"A long life to you! A long, long life to you!" the chorus sang.
Bang!
The Mao picture fell.
The "smokestack" collapsed.
The "ship" fell apart.
15
"'The masses have a potentially inexhaustible enthusiasm for socialism.'" Wild Ginger and Evergreen resumed their Mao study. "'Those who can only follow the old routine in a revolutionary period are utterly incapable of seeing this enthusiasm. They are blind and all is dark ahead of them. At times they go so far as to confound right and wrong and turn things upside down. Haven't we come across enough persons of this type?'"
It was eight o'clock at night. I was in the closet. Wild Ginger's voice was tired. She had been working to teach the Zhong dance for days without a stop. She slept four hours a night. Now she was dozing off. "Why don't you take over?" she said to Evergreen.
Evergreen was not enthusiastic. But he followed Wild Ginger's wish. "'... Those who simply follow the old routine invariably underestimate the people's enthusiasm. Let something new appear and they always disapprove and rush to oppose it' ... Wild Ginger!" He noticed that Wild Ginger's head was like a hen's pecking grain.
"What's wrong, Evergreen?" Wild Ginger muttered. "Keep going."
"'...Afterward, they have to admit defeat and do a little self-criticism. But the next time something new appears, they go through the same process all over again. This is their pattern of behavior in regard to anything and everything new..."'
Evergreen slowly put down the Mao book and moved to sit next to Wild Ginger. He paused for a few seconds. When he saw there was no response, he bent his head to reach for her left cheek.
"Go on reading, please." She struggled with her sleepiness and turned her head away.
"'...Such people,'" he went on but began to kiss her at the same time, "'...are always passive, always fail to move forward at the critical moment ... and always have to be given a shove in the back before they move a step..."' He kissed her neck fervently.
"Pah!" She turned around and slapped him in the face. "We have a contract! Don't tell me that you want to break it!"
He rose. His face was red. "I am quitting."
"Get out, then." Her tone was sharp.
"But ... you were bored to death and falling asleep yourself."
"How dare you accuse me of being bored with Mao study! I am not sleepy! You are the problem! Your mind is getting dirtier every day. I am sure you are not here to study Maoism but to enjoy bourgeois indulgence."
He was insulted. In a quick motion he came and grabbed her shoulders. "Why did you insist on making us a team if you are so holy? Why? To keep me here for what? For the pleasure of your eyes? What do you want from me? You know, deep down, you know that we are not interested in Mao but in each other. Our difference is that you won't admit it while I do. I am not ashamed of how I feel. You can't deal with your feelings. I guess being a national icon is more important than being yourself ... But why drag me along? Why not let me go? Does it give you pleasure to set my feelings on fire and watch me burn?"
"Evergreen, the truth is"—she took a gasp of air—"that I am not burning any less. We have to learn to conquer our weakness. Together we must help each other."
"Wild Ginger, you must not ignore the fact that I don't take being a Maoist as the mission of my life."
"That's not correct, Evergreen. All you need to win is a strong will."
Losing all patience, he shouted, "I despise your will! Your preaching reminds me of those who bound the feet of their girls and castrated their boys!"
"What did I do? What harm have I caused you?" she asked tearfully.
"I can't go on with you." He let her go and turned his face away.
"You've disappointed me." Her tone was cold.
He tried to stay composed but his emotion betrayed him. His facial muscles began to twitch.
She stood up. Her lips moved as if trying to say something. But no sound came out.
He got up, walked toward her.
She stepped back.
He began to open his shirt, button by button.
"What ... what are you doing?" Her syllables slurred.
He gave no answer but unfastened his belt.
Before she turned away, he stepped out of his pants.
"Animal!" She shut her eyes.
He was erect.
"Traitor! Coward!" she shouted.
He jumped on her and pushed her down under his knees.
She struggled, trying to push him away.
He began to rip off her clothes. Her Mao jacket was pulled open.
Inside the closet, I became short of breath. What should I do? Do I jump out to help?
His hands went to explore her body.
She fought fiercely. But she didn't call my name. I was waiting.
She scratched the skin on his neck.
Finally she got a chance and bit his right shoulder.
He groaned. As if inflamed by the pain he was determined to take her.
They rolled on the floor. They were about eight yards away from me. Wild Ginger was pressed down on her back. He was on top of her. His nose was pointing directly at me.
She screamed.
I cracked open the closet door—my subconscious had taken the scream as a signal to act.
He raised his eyes and suddenly he saw me.
I froze.
We were eye to eye. Evergreen and I.
I couldn't move.
He withdrew.
She sat up, not noticing that Evergreen and I had discovered each other.
He sat himself on the floor like a balloon leaking air.
She buttoned up her clothes and started to fix her hair.
Evergreen got up and put his clothes back on. He went to the water jar and poured himself a bowl of water.
Wild Ginger went to the bathroom behind the wall.
I carefully closed the closet door.
Evergreen sat by the kitchen table. He picked up the Mao book and glanced in my direction.
I stood frozen in place. I wanted to come out, but was afraid that Wild Ginger would be upset. As I pondered what to do next, Wild Ginger reappeared.
"Maybe we can figure out a way to solve this problem," she said. "Chairman Mao teaches us, 'There is no problem that is unsolvable by a true revolutionary.'"
Evergreen put down the Mao book and folded his arms in front of his chest.
"I am here for you, Evergreen, I care about you. It's just ... I can't have ... Well, to put it flat and straight ... I can't commit to a relationship with you. It is not easy for me to be where I am. You must understand that. I have decided to live up to Chairman Mao's expectations."
"You sound like the Ching dynasty empress dowager. You need me to be your eunuch in chief."
"It's unkind of you to say that," she said painfully. "You know that I want to make you happy."
Evergreen laughed bitterly. "By torturing me?"
"I'll do anything for you except make love to you."
Evergreen stood up.
"Wait!" she cried. "I ... I don't mind if you ... play with yourself."
It took him a moment to understand what she meant. He sat back down and turned in my direction. As if suddenly reaching a decision, he seemed to relax. Almost happily, he said, "There is one thing you can do to help me."
"I'm listening."
"Read me Mao quotations while I do it."
"You agree with my suggestion then, don't you?" She looked at him. "That we carry on a spiritual relationship?"
"Is that what you wa
nt?"
"Yes."
"You don't have to look at me..."
"I promise. I will keep my eyes on the lines."
"Are you ready?"
"Sure. Which Mao would you like me to read?"
"Anything."
"How about 'The Struggle in the Chingkang Mountains'? Or 'Introductory Note to How Control of the Wutang Co-operative Shifted from the Middle to the Poor Peasants'?"
"Never mind."
"What's wrong?"
"I feel sick."
When Wild Ginger asked about my time in the closet, I didn't reveal what I'd seen, but I didn't know why. To say that I was afraid to upset Wild Ginger would be untrue. Later as I sorted out my thoughts, I realized that Evergreen's decision to keep his discovery secret from Wild Ginger had been a turning point. In all our time together, I hadn't grown intimately closer to Wild Ginger, but strangely, now I somehow felt closer to Evergreen. It was as if through his silence Evergreen and I were engaged in something together—the betrayal of Wild Ginger.
"You have helped me reach my goal," Wild Ginger said as she made me tea. "It is perfect that Evergreen has come to feel disgusted by his own behavior; he has disabled the power of nature's evil. We've struck a deal. We'll stay close friends and comrades in arms. I'll get to see him every night without risking my future."
"Why do you have to see him every night? Why don't you just leave him alone for good?" I asked almost angrily.
"I wish I knew why, Maple. It's become a craving. I can't bear not to see him every day."
"You are in love. You have been denying the truth."
"Don't apply that bourgeois term to me. I have already told you that such words don't belong in a Maoist's vocabulary. And such sentiments could destroy me. Now swear, Maple, never say that again."
"But you have just said that you couldn't bear not to see him."
"I guess it is the price I have to pay to be a Maoist. Now you know that I'm a piece of real gold—I can stand being hit by a hammer ten thousand times—and still be myself."
"What about him?"
"He just needs to be refined. He is Maoist material. We are a revolutionary pair."
"But the truth is you two fight."
"Well, that's part of the attraction! Did you ... Maple, did you see him come on me?"
"How could I not see?"
"What did you think?"
"What do you expect me to say?"
"Say what's on your mind."
"It's a jar of porridge there."
"You are good, Maple. You are straight and devil-proof."
"What do you know about me?"
"I know you inside out. I trust you with my most inner secrets. I couldn't be a Maoist without you."
16
The campus smelled of ink and spoiled flour paste. The school seemed another world where wall-to-wall news columns on Mao study discussions were published every other day. Before the first layer of the poster paper dried, the second layer was applied. The traces of dripping ink looked like tears. When the wind blew, the torn papers were swept up in the trees. When it rained, walls of calligraphy were washed away. The lines bled into each other so that the characters were unreadable. The waste was tremendous. No one really read the posters anymore because all of them sounded the same.
We were seventeen years old. We were still studying nothing but Mao. One teacher suggested adding a course of world history, and he was immediately suspected of having an interest in becoming a foreign spy. In geography, we were still on the route that Mao's Red Army traveled during the Long March in 1934. The class dwelt on the same map semester after semester. For tests we had to memorize the names of the villages. We studied no other countries besides Russia, Albania, and North Korea. We didn't know where America was when we shouted "Down with U.S. imperialism!"
"A well-disciplined party armed with the theory of Marxism-Leninism, using the method of self-criticism and linked with the masses of the people..." I sat in the classroom bored to death. We had been listening to a broadcast reading of the central party Politburo's latest instruction. "...a united front of all revolutionary classes and all revolutionary groups under the leadership of the Communist party—these are the three main weapons with which we have defeated the enemy..." I heard the sound but my brain didn't register. The only thing that registered was that the announcers had been changed three times after having exhausted their voices.
Wild Ginger's seat was vacant. She had been absent often since she became the commander in chief of the Red Guard. Owing to lack of sleep, she had grown thin. However, her spirits still seemed high. She spent her day going from school to school promoting Maoism. She lectured around neighborhoods, markets, factories, on public buses, and wherever there were people. She displayed her skill by reciting hundreds of quotations and sang the quotation songs. Her grades in math dropped. It didn't bother her. She believed that if one was a Maoist, one would naturally possess the power to cope with the world. Her best speech continued to be about her meeting with Chairman Mao. Although she had recounted the story hundreds of times, she never grew tired of it and told it vividly. Her emotion affected the audience so much that people were in tears by the end. The crowd rushed to shake hands with her. By touching her, they felt that they had touched Mao.
When night came, Wild Ginger wrestled with her other self. Each evening she returned to the same field to combat her "human weakness." She and Evergreen read hours on end and worked on the papers and speeches. They behaved as if the night of passion never existed. It was hard for me to tell what was on Evergreen's mind. I noticed that something had changed inside me. I couldn't explain why I not only returned to the closet but wanted to stay! I could have walked out for good. All I had to do was to say no to Wild Ginger. But I didn't. I couldn't. I had to be here to find out who I was and what I wanted for myself.
Sunday night Wild Ginger's exhaustion overcame her will—she fell into a dead sleep during the reading. The ink pen she was holding smeared. Struggling to mark the lines in her notebook, her face fell flat onto the page. Evergreen tried to wake her, but it was impossible. He then tried to wipe her nose. Still she wouldn't wake. After holding her head up for a while Evergreen carried her to the bed. Again he tried to shake her. She slept like a dead person. He laid her down and covered her with a blanket. Then he went back and sat on the bench. For the next few minutes he stared at the Mao book.
I became nervous. I sensed something. Before I could think further I heard him say, "Would you come out?"
Involuntarily I uttered a no.
"May I come in?"
I jumped away from the peephole. My duty told me that I ought to say no, ought to go and wake up Wild Ginger, or simply run.
But I didn't do any of these.
I let him walk right into the closet, right into my soul, and change me forever.
17
My arms opened themselves to him as he slipped into the closet, my body receiving him without hesitation. He didn't speak. Neither did I. There was no need. The moment he stepped into the darkness, the world of Mao was behind us. The blossom of the spring fell into my arms as he devoured me. I couldn't get enough of him. His hair smelled of the East China Sea, and I recalled him telling me once that he worked at a seaweed plantation on weekends. He caressed me. My insides cried out in joy. We held each other and I felt him swelling. Time ceased.
I no longer realized where I was.
We lay in silence. Returning to reality was a shock. As he stepped out of the closet I was terrified to think of what would happen next.
There was no movement. Wild Ginger was still sound asleep.
Evergreen left the house while I still lay in the closet. I heard the door shut. It was two o'clock in the morning. The sound of the clock striking the hour was unusually loud to my ears. I crawled out of the closet. I was concerned that we might have left evidence. But there was none. I felt strange. If my mind couldn't yet grasp what had happened, my body had never felt better.
; I left Wild Ginger's house at three o'clock. Walking through the lanes I took a deep breath of fresh air. The night seemed, for the first time, beautiful.
I went home and embraced my pillow. My mind lingered on the strange thought that I was no longer a virgin while Wild Ginger was. I felt bound by guilt yet liberated at the same time. All my frustration had vanished. I wondered what Wild Ginger would do if she could experience this same feeling. Suddenly the idea of devoting one's entire life to Mao was not only dull but ridiculous.
I had a dream in which Wild Ginger visited me. "I was collecting candy wrappers in the streets," she told me. "I came home with my handbag filled with dirty wrappers. I soaked them and washed them carefully with soapy water. I pasted them one by one onto the tiles in the bathroom. The whole wall was covered. The beauty was extraordinary. I sat and looked at it for hours on end. The flowers, leaves, animals, and rocks. A wall of spring. When the wrappers dried, I peeled them off and inserted them between the pages of my books. They saved me from the boredom of the Mao studies."
***
I wasn't eager to go to school, because I was afraid of seeing Wild Ginger. The whole morning I lay in bed and pretended to be sick. Then Wild Ginger came. It was afternoon. She seemed to be in good spirits and was in her regular army uniform. She brought my mother a string of garlic and strode directly to my bed.
I sat up, like a criminal being confronted by a policeman.
"Are you all right?" She looked concerned and reached out her hand to feel my forehead. "No fever. What's wrong?"
I realized that she didn't know what had happened last night. I pushed her hand away. "I am just a little tired."
"Is it because I made you stay in the closet for too long?"
"Of course not." I hopped out of the bed. "That wasn't a problem. Not at all."
"I am sorry I fell asleep last night. Evergreen left. He just left and hasn't come back. I am sure he's upset. But he doesn't have to worry about it, I'll make it up to him. He loves to be with me. I could be reading anything and he wouldn't care." She smiled.