by Ji-Li Jiang
I thought of popsicles. Four fen apiece, cream, red bean, or lemon-flavored. I imagined holding one in my mouth and feeling each swallow of delicious icy water flow down my throat. I thought of resting in the shade, leisurely fanning myself. I thought of sitting in a tub full of cold water reading a novel.
I tried hard to imagine cool things to distract myself, but my legs began to tremble, and my eyes would not focus. I could not see clearly—not the thresher roller, not the bundle of rice in my hand. “Don’t fall down, don’t fall down. It will be all right after today,” I told myself again and again. I repeated Chairman Mao’s quotation, “Be resolute, fear no sacrifice, and surmount every difficulty to win victory.”
Just before noon, when I turned around to get another bundle of rice, I lost consciousness.
I was in an enormous classroom, with a vaulted ceiling like a medieval cathedral. It was packed with people, and I was sitting in the very last row. At some signal I did not see, all the others put on white gowns with hoods that left only two black holes for the eyes. In the thrilling silence they all turned their heads to me. They all moved in perfect unison.
I wanted to shout. I wanted to escape. But I could not move. Then something forced me to stand up and walk step by step up the aisle in the vacuumlike silence. The white hoods and the eyes glinting behind the black holes followed me… .
I ran and ran, through an endless and featureless yellow desert. I did not know what I ran from or where I was running to. I staggered, and fell, and crawled. Suddenly an enormous black shadow stood in front of me. I looked up. It was a giant Bai Shan. His hands rested on his hips, and his voice echoed: “Ha, ha, ha, Jiang Ji-li. Ha, ha, ha.”
I awoke.
I was lying on my straw mat in the empty storage room, all alone. I stretched. My whole body was sore, and I still felt that unbearable headache. I remembered what had happened in the morning. “Stupid!” I said to myself angrily. It was just luck that I hadn’t fallen forward into the machine.
I lay there and basked in the stillness. The rumble of the motors and the noises of the people on the threshing ground were very far away. I was free. No one was watching me, no one was investigating my family. I just lay there, at peace.
“Ji-li.” A loud voice jerked me awake. Chang Hong rushed in.
“Chang-Hong! What are you doing here? I thought you were working in a factory. When did you come?” I sat up, surprised and happy to see her.
“I just got here. Teacher Zhang had to go back to a meeting in Shanghai, so I came here to take his place. They told me you fainted this morning, so I came to see you first thing.” She threw her traveling bag on the floor and plopped down beside my mat. “Well, feeling better?”
“Much.” I smiled gratefully. “I’m sure I can go back to work tomorrow.”
“You’re not going to work tomorrow. You’re going back to Shanghai tonight.” She stopped smiling.
“Not me. I’ll never be a quitter.”
“You’re not a quitter,” she said in a softer voice. “Your father’s theater wants you to do some study sessions with them. The Revolutionary Committee asked me to tell you.” She watched my face as she spoke, then put her hand comfortingly on mine. “Ji-li, don’t worry… .”
“I know.” I cut her off rudely as I lay down again and turned my face away. “You don’t need to say anything.”
THE INCRIMINATING LETTER
It was good to be home, in spite of my worry about the summons from the theater. I lay in bed, my mind wandering and my body reveling in the softness. Every muscle and every joint in my body ached.
Someone knocked very softly at the door: two knocks, a pause, and three more. Mom opened the door without even asking who was there, and I heard Uncle Tian’s voice. He and Mom disappeared into the bathroom.
Before long the bathroom door opened again and Mom showed Uncle Tian out. “I’ll let you know when I’ve finished revising it.” She closed the door behind him and came back in. “It’s late. Go to sleep,” she said to me softly. She put some pieces of paper onto her nightstand and went back into the bathroom.
I turned off the light and closed my eyes. What were those papers? Why had she said, “I’ll let you know when it’s finished”? What was going on?
It was very quiet in the room. Ji-yong and Ji-yun had fallen asleep a while ago. Grandma was dozing on her bed, with her glasses on her nose and the newspaper on her chest. I heard Mom washing and knew she would be in the bathroom for at least fifteen minutes. Impulsively I slipped out of bed and, without even putting on my slippers, tiptoed over to Mom’s bed.
Several sheets of paper were folded together on the nightstand. I picked up the one on top and held it under the soft light of Mom’s bedside lamp. I held my breath as I read the first words: “Respected Comrades of the Municipal Party Committee.”
I pressed the letter against my chest. The beginning of it made me too nervous to read any further. I heard Mom turning the water tap and looked guiltily over my shoulder. Then I read the rest of the letter as fast as I could.
The letter complained about the situation in the theater. The faction in power, the Rebels, did whatever they wanted, ignoring the policy directives from the Central Committee of the Party, the letter said. They treated people with nonpolitical problems, like Aunt Wu, as class enemies, and they had humiliated her, shaving half of her head in a yin-yang hairdo. They frequently beat their prisoners and had already beaten two to death. They even recorded the screams and moans of the prisoners being tortured, and played the tapes to frighten other prisoners under interrogation.
“We urgently hope,” the letter concluded, “that the Municipal Party Committee will investigate this situation and correct it before it is too late.” The letter was signed, “The Revolutionary Masses.”
I tiptoed back to bed. My heart pounded inside my chest. Although the letter was merely reporting facts to a superior, it was a complaint about the Rebels at the theater. If they found out about it, Mom and Uncle Tian would be in serious trouble. And what would happen to Dad and Aunt Wu? What if Thin-Face found out? Would he blame me for not telling him?
I heard Mom go to bed. Lying in the darkness with my eyes open, I could not stop imagining all the horrors that could result from this letter. 1 was scared, and I did not know what to do.
It was dusk. I was shelling soybeans. Ji-yun and her classmate Xiao Hong-yin were laughing and chatting in the room and Ji-yong was busy making a slingshot. Running water was gurgling from the roof. Grandma was washing clothes. Mom had gone to answer a telephone call.
The kitchen was getting dark, but I did not bother to turn the light on. I stared out the window. Another day had passed, and still Thin-Face had not shown up. What was he waiting for? What should I say when he came? What would he do to me?
I sighed and shelled more beans.
How was Dad? Surely they must have struggled with him enough. Had they beaten him? Since I had read Mom’s letter two days ago, I had seen Dad in my mind, not just carrying concrete pipes and wiping away tears, but being tortured.
Had he really done something wrong? Why wouldn’t he confess if he had? Was he really a rightist as they said?…
Suddenly pounding feet on the stairs jerked me back to reality. Mom ran up the stairs panic-stricken, yelling, “The letter, the letter.” Grandma and I followed Mom into the room.
“The theater people are coming to search the house. The Dictatorship Group is watching the entrance to the alley. They wouldn’t even let me answer the phone.” We all stared at her as she reached under her pillow. “Quick!” Mom thrust a letter into my hand. “Hide this. We can’t let them find it. I’ll try to slow them down.” She staggered downstairs. Xiao Hong-yin hurried out behind her.
I stood there dumbly. Searches were not allowed now without permission of the police. How could they be searching us? We had already been searched once before.
The loud voices on the stairs shook me awake. I looked at the letter—the thick, heavy
letter that Mom and Uncle Tian had written to the Municipal Party Committee. My hand began to shake.
I rushed into the room and looked around desperately. No, the room would be thoroughly ransacked. I ran back out to the kitchen. Behind the sink? No. I dashed into the bathroom. Toilet tank? No. Where? Where should I hide it? I could not think. I could feel the blood throbbing in my temples.
Suddenly I remembered Little White’s litter box. I dashed up to the roof. By the time I had smoothed out the ashes and walked downstairs, the searchers were already at the door.
Mom stood in the doorway, trying to keep Thin-Face from rushing in. “The Municipal Party Committee has directed that no searches are allowed without permission of the police.”
Thin-Face sneered. He fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and thrust it in front of Mom’s nose. “Read this. The authorities have determined that Jiang Xi-reng is a landlord who has escaped detection and gone unpunished. You’re a damned landlord’s wife.” He threw the paper in Mom’s face and rushed into the room with his crew.
What a ransacking!
They had brought big lights and thick wires from the theater and strung them through the room and on the roof and balcony. The whole apartment blazed like a movie set. We could hear the hubbub from the crowd of spectators outside in the alley.
Thin-Face and his crew were methodical and thorough. They emptied every trunk and every drawer, tore the beds and sofa apart, and even searched the dusty attic carefully.
One woman found the rags cut from Grandma’s old gowns. “We can piece these together and use them for the Landlord Jiang Xi-reng’s struggle meeting. It is excellent proof of his luxurious lifestyle,” she said excitedly, and the whole box was carried away. Someone else saw the round porcelain stool under the window. It was cracked, so we had not been able to sell it like the other one. “This is a valuable antique from the Qian-long period,” he said. The stool was taken away.
The search went on and on. Ji-yun, Ji-yong, and I sat in a corner of the room, trembling at the slamming of the wardrobe and the chests. My mind was entirely on the letter under the ashes. Suddenly Ji-yong stood up and walked toward one of the ransackers.
“I borrowed that book.” He pointed toward a pile that the man was going to carry away.
“What? What did you say?” The young man turned around and arrogantly looked down on Ji-yong.
“I borrowed that book. I need to return it.”
The young man pulled the book out of the pile. “The Wild Animals I Have Raised,” he read aloud. He scrutinized the book and then looked back at Ji-yong.
“Do you know what kind of book this is?”
“No. What kind is it?”
“It’s a translation that propagates the bourgeois theory of humanitarism.”
“I don’t care what it propagates. I borrowed it and I have to return it tomorrow.” Ji-yong was feeling obstinate.
“You’ve got some nerve for a little black bastard. How dare you plead for this damned revisionist book?” He held the book in front of Ji-yong’s face and very slowly began tearing the cover off.
Ji-yong rushed toward him and tried to grab the book. The man grabbed Ji-yong’s collar and pulled my brother toward him, and then suddenly pushed away. Ji-yong staggered several steps backward and fell on a heap of clothes. He tried to stand up and rush at the man again, but Ji-yun and I jumped on him and held him down.
“He hit me! Let me go! Let me go!” His eyes were filled with tears. He struggled violently under our arms. I could feel his gasps against my face.
While we were struggling to hold Ji-yong down, Six-Fingers bustled in. He pulled Thin-Face into a corner and whispered something, then left.
Thin-Face watched us struggling like a hunter watching the animals in his trap. Ji-yong stopped fighting, and I straightened up.
“We’ve seen a lot of each other lately, haven’t we?” He gave a grimace meant to suggest a smile. “According to reliable sources, you hid a very important letter just before we arrived.” He paused and examined our reactions carefully. “Here is the opportunity for you to help Chairman Mao’s revolution. Who can win the most honor by telling us first?”
I felt an intense rush of heat, as if my whole body were flushed.
“This was reported by a member of the revolutionary masses.” He was talking only to me now. “We even know where it was hidden, but before I go get it, I’ll give you one last chance to prove your loyalty to Chairman Mao. And then…”
It must have been Ji-yun’s classmate Xiao Hong-yin, I thought. She was there when Mom gave me the letter. She must have reported it. But she didn’t see me hide the letter. They couldn’t know where it was.
Seeing that there was no response, Thin-Face took off his smiling mask. He stepped in front of me, bent over, and suddenly shouted in my face, “Don’t you know, or is it just that you don’t want to talk?”
I shivered. Ji-yun grasped my shirt and buried her face in my back. Thin-Face’s head was only inches from mine. His bloodshot eyes bulged out so much that the whites seemed much larger than usual. His skin was red with rage. He looked so savage that I shrank back, sure that he was going to hit me. I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth. “I don’t know.”
My heart pounded. I waited. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes.
“So you don’t want to talk,” he snarled. “I think I can figure out a way to help you.” He straightened up and shouted to the young man who had torn the book. “Bring the two landlords’ wives in here!”
Grandma was leaning heavily on Mom as they came into the room.
Thin-Face was in front of them immediately. “Leniency for those who confess, severity for those who resist. I’m sure you remember that. Now. Where did you hide the letter? Confess!”
Mom’s face changed color. Grandma looked at him and replied timidly, “Letter? What letter?”
“Damn you!” Thin-Face slapped her face with all his strength. Grandma staggered into Mom’s arms.
“Grandma!” We all sprang to our feet and rushed to Grandma.
“She’s over seventy, you— How could you?” Shielding Grandma with her own body, Mom shouted back at Thin-Face.
“Over seventy! So what? Damned old landlord’s wife!” Thin-Face held his hand. He must have hurt it when he slapped Grandma. “Old landlord’s wife, kneel down and face the wall. Stay there until you confess. You—” He turned to the rest of us. “You all sit here and watch. Don’t go near her. If you care about her, confess. Otherwise she’ll stay there forever. We’ll see who’s stronger.” He walked out.
Grandma knelt down facing the wall. I could see the red marks of Thin-Face’s fingers on her face. Her whole body was trembling so violently that I could see her linen shirt shaking.
“Grandma…” Ji-yun cried out suddenly. Tears were rolling down my cheeks too.
“Don’t you cry for her. She’s an exploiting landlord’s wife.” The young man stepped up to Ji-yun. “If you keep crying, I’ll make your mother kneel down too.”
I looked at Mom. Her face was terribly haggard. She looked as if she were about to faint. She took out her handkerchief and wiped Ji-yun’s face. “Don’t cry, dear, don’t cry. Everything will be all right,” she said softly.
Grandma was sitting limply on her legs now, supporting her weight on her hands just like Old Qian had that day. A few white hairs clung to her red cheek.
Maybe I should tell, I thought frantically. Grandma was so frail… . But then would we all get into bigger trouble? What should I do? What should I do, Mom? I stole several glances at Mom, but she hung her head and stared at the ground.
After a long while the young man went into the bathroom. No one else was watching us. Mom whispered in my ear, “Where’s the letter?”
“In Little White’s litter box. Are you going to tell them?”
Mom shook her head hesitantly. She looked at Grandma and murmured, “I’m afraid she can’t stand any more. It looks like they won’t give up till they find
it.”
We were interrupted by a hubbub. Heavy footsteps rushed up to the roof. For a few minutes there was silence. Then suddenly we heard a crowd of people pounding down the stairs, roaring with coarse laughter.
“The cat did a great job. We should give her a reward.”
“But the letter stinks of cat piss.”
The letter!
I sagged weakly to the chair. Little White must have revealed the letter by raking up the ashes after she had used her box.
Thin-Face dashed into the room, his face lit with a sinister smile of victory. “What did I say? Who won? Who was stronger, you or the iron fist of the Proletarian Dictatorship? Humph!” He waved the letter in Mom’s face. “So you thought you could reverse the verdict, did you? Hah!” he grunted in satisfaction. “Chen Ying, tomorrow you will report to your work unit that you are a landlord’s wife now. We will inform them of what happened today, and will invite you as a companion to your husband’s struggle meeting.”
He stood over Grandma, who was still on the floor. “Old landlord’s wife, starting tomorrow you will sweep the alley like the other landlords’ wives. You have been lucky that we didn’t expose you earlier. Go register at the Neighborhood Dictatorship Group at eight.”
He turned and was about to walk out when he saw
“You,” he snorted. Even in his elation his eyes froze me. “You have just missed your opportunity to be an educable child. Too bad. We will let your school know all about your firm class stance.”
It was now four thirty in the morning. The alley was deserted. The huge truck, loaded with most of our possessions, blew its horn in the deadly silence and triumphantly left.
The dark world became quiet, as quiet as the inside of a grave.
We gathered around Mom and Grandma. Song Po-po tiptoed up from her room and joined us. The furniture was gone, and most of our possessions, but at the moment we could not worry about that. The letter, the letter we had worried about all night, was gone. That was all we could think about.