by Hua Bai
The servant carried a lacquer tray into the sitting room.
“What’s the matter?”
Old Gui stopped his crying immediately. His mouth
twitched.
“Nothing. I stepped on his foot accidentally during our
rehearsal.”
Seizing one foot immediately, old Gui cried heartily.
As the servant moved coffee cups, saucers, sugar bowl,
and milk jar onto the coffee table, old Gui gradually
stopped sobbing. “Spoons, coffee spoons.”
“What? Since the cups are so small, why use spoons? Bad
habit.”
“It’s their custom.”
“Custom!” The servant went angrily back to the kitchen
for spoons.
“You should hand coffee to the guest from his left,” old Gui cautiously told the servant.
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“Why not from the right? Your American guest is a
rightist.”
“This – is their custom.”
“This is custom and that is custom. Okay, we’re just putting on a show. When it comes to anything real, how can we do things according to bourgeois custom? Damn them!”
“Of course, we’re just playing.”
“Now I’m off work and I have something else to do.”
Removing his narrow-collared old uniform, the servant
warned old Gui, “You have to sleep on the floor, because the bedding is borrowed from the Red Flag Hotel, and we must keep it clean.”
“Okay. The floor here is much cleaner than the platform
we share on the farm.”
Pointing to me, the servant said, “You can’t spend the
night.”
“I have my own place.”
“No smoking!” The servant warned the master of the
house.
“Yes, sir.” The host answered the servant in awe and reverence.
“Do you know how to use a flush toilet?”
“Yes, I do.”
Walking toward the door, the servant commented, “I
knew you could. All class enemies are just dreaming to
restore their lost paradise. This house is your little paradise now, but don’t mistake a dream for reality!” The servant walked out. Old Gui and I heard the clanking of the iron gate. Old Gui was racking his brains about the knotty questions he must face in the upcoming visit. I sank back in the sofa, feeling extremely miserable and sorry for old Gui for being forced to play such a part. Yet he seemed quite happy, unconscious of the cruelty of his tragicomedy. He was good at reducing the mental burden forced on him to achieve
some sort of spiritual lightness. He was always trying to sort out daily events like tangled thread. Although he never
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found the beginning or end of a single thread, he always believed he had found it. His explanation was that this was revolution and every happening during the revolution was rational. Revolution was a sharp knife that could cut
through a tangled thread in no time.
The doorbell rang and old Gui sprang up in fright. I signaled him to sit down and offered to open the door. At the door stood a healthy-looking woman of around thirty. She looked strange: her pants were not loose enough; her blouse was a bit too tight around the waist; and her black heels were somewhat too high. I suspected she even used a little makeup. She belonged to the type of women whose youth
had gone but who would never be visited by old age, a type of beauty that reminds you of fading smoke over the wide expanse of the wasteland.
“I’m looking for Professor Gui.”
The title professor surprised me because I hadn’t heard it for years. “Do you know him?”
“I will when I see him.”
“Well – please,” I said.
“What’s your relation to Professor Gui?” Xie Li asked.
“Comrade. We’re comrades at the same farm.”
“Oh, I see.” She smiled and said, “Please.”
“After you.” I became more polite.
The woman went straight into the sitting room and
offered her hand to Old Gui. “You must be Professor Gui
Renzhong.”
“Not worthy of the title. I am old Gui.”
“Let me introduce myself. I am called Xie Li, ‘xie’ as in xiexie [thanks] and “li” as in molihua [jasmine flower].”
“Do you want to talk to me about something?”
“Show me around the house first, will you?” Before old
Gui could say yes, she walked upstairs and downstairs,
inspecting every room and wall cabinet, including the bathroom and kitchen. When she finally stood downstairs in
front of old Gui, she measured him up and down several
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times in the manner of someone buying a mule at the cattle market. Then she took out a form and passed it to him.
“I was born into a poor family. Age, thirty-two; educa-
tion, middle-school graduate; marital status, single. Here’s a description of my political behavior. Everything is recorded there clearly.”
Taking up the form too nervously, old Gui groped through his pockets but failed to produce his eyeglasses. Finally, he found them in his pants pocket. That pair of glasses of his also had a terrible background; they had originated in New York. At Gui’s very first criticism meeting, as the Cultural Revolution was starting, they had broken a “leg” – a bad omen that foretold Gui’s destiny of breaking his leg. The first broken leg was supported by a little bamboo stick and wrapped with fine enamel-insulated wire. Old Gui carefully cleaned the cracked glasses with a dirty handkerchief. Blowing on them, he wiped them again before putting them on.
Then he started reading the form in a murmuring voice, but quite solemnly. “Name: Xie Li. Right, ‘xie’ as in xiexie and
‘li’ as in molihua. Sex: female. No doubt about that! Birthdate: June 1944. Oh, thirty-two years old. When you were born we hadn’t yet won the anti-Japanese war. Yes, Japan surrendered in August 1945. But it was impossible for you to
receive a Japanese-enslaving education. As a child of one or two, you had only a blurred picture of the world occupied by the Japanese aggressors. In the year of liberation, you were only five years old. While you were acquiring the
power of memory, red flags were fluttering over your head.
Education: enrolled in the Peace Street Elementary School at age seven – of course, this was a school set up after Liberation.
Enrolled in the Number 6 Junior High School at age fourteen – no problem. Failed to pass the university entrance examination –
lucky you didn’t. Chairman Mao teaches us, ‘Higher education must be reformed.’ After secondary education, one
needs to do some practical work. You became an assistant in a shop. Although Confucius was born into a declining noble 1 4 0
Bai Hua.book Page 141 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
family of slave owners, he didn’t attend middle school or college, either. He started his career doing service at funerals, perhaps as a trumpet player. Li Shizhen of the Ming dynasty picked mountain herbs for quite a number of years before he was able to write his famous Guide to Herbs. Much earlier, the great inventor, Zu Chongzhi, never received secondary or higher education. In America, Ben Franklin was once a printing-shop apprentice and a paper boy. In Scot-land, James Watt was just an ordinary worker. Maxim
Gorky was completely self-taught. It is said he attended school for only two years. According to this, you seem not to have read many books – good for you! You don’t suffer
much from intellectual poisoning. Behavior during the political movements: a clear attitude and firm stand in every political movement. During the campaigns o
f the Three Antis and Five Antis, you performed ‘Catch the Big Tiger Alive’ in a joint show for the kindergartens. During the purge of counterrevolutionaries, you reported a suspect to the police because you saw him wearing a pair of dark glasses like a spy. During the antirightist campaign, you exposed your music
teacher because she had taught her students a performance called ‘Butterfly Lovers.’ At the criticism meeting, you bravely denounced that evil teacher, even pulling her hair in your excitement. During the Great Leap Forward, your
group yielded the highest output of steel. During the economic hard times of the 1960s, you defended the honor of the country to a foreign reporter: ‘We eat meat every day.
There’s no such thing as starvation in China, not even for a rat. Look, that’s one over there, isn’t it? Right under the desk.’ It was impossible for the foreigner to quarrel. However, when the reporter started taking snapshots of big-bellied children drinking large bowls of thin soup, you rushed forward, grabbed his camera, and exposed his film. Afterward, you were praised by the departments of Foreign
Affairs, Security, and Education. You should have been
awarded the title ‘Chairman Mao’s good pupil,’ but, consid-1 4 1
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ering that your model deed could not be promulgated
abroad, they gave you only a certificate of merit, framed in glass. The moment Chairman Mao kindled the great proletarian Cultural Revolution, you threw yourself into the revolutionary currents, lashing out at imperialism, revisionism, and all reactionaries, as well as at the capitalist roaders. You followed Chairman Mao’s strategies closely. You joined rebel organizations such as ‘Headquarters of the Workers Rebelling to the End,’ the ‘Regiment of the Lord’s Whip,’ the
‘Detachment for a New World,’ teams for ‘Exposing the
Bottom Line,’ the ‘Hurricanes,’ and ‘Fighting with Words and Defending with Weapons,’ the ‘Writers’ Association
Defending Jiang Qing,’ militant groups such as the ‘Magic Club,’ the ‘Ambitious Men,’ ‘The Impassioned,’ the propaganda team of the ‘Great Union,’ and so on. You have held the posts of number 5 servant and number 2 servant, head of the Defense Department, the Intelligence Department, the Propaganda Department, the Munitions Department, and
the singing and dancing troupe. You have been on the revolutionary committee of the Four New Things Shop as its
senator, chair, and representative of the Workers’ Propaganda Team. All these glorious deeds have won my high
esteem. Comrade Xie Li, you are a person red to the core; whereas I (sigh) have been black from birth. If only I could be reborn. Little Liang, are you taking all this in?”
“Yes, I am.” I was shivering the whole time, in a state one might describe as shivering without being cold. Best to
compliment her with a line from the model opera: “This
woman is indeed unusual!” Old Gui not only expressed his respect for her but shook her hand cordially on returning the form. “Nin – ” Old Gui had changed ni [you] to the honorable term nin [you] to address her. “You [ nin] have come here for – ?”
“Especially for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. Marx says, ‘Only by emancipating all of humanity
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can the proletariat ultimately emancipate itself.’ You need help.”
“That’s right. I remain an unreformed intellectual.”
“I am well informed about your past and present. Losing
your wife at your age left you lonely and helpless. You need help, particularly political help. Judging from your history, you belong to the most vulnerable category in today’s society.”
“True, true.”
“You don’t even dare speak to those who come to check
your water meter or collect your electricity bill.”
“True, true.”
“Because they are the proletariat; whereas you are the
bourgeoisie.”
“True, true.”
“If a gang of children came to throw stones at your door, singing, ‘Imperialist reactionaries are running away with their tails between their legs,’ you would not chase them away.”
“Right. I’d be afraid of getting hit by the stones.”
“But I would.”
“Yes. You are proletarian, brave – ”
“That’s why I came to talk with you. Let’s open the win-
dow of our hearts and speak candidly. You and I have both passed the age of courting. Furthermore, the practice of murmuring love before the flowers and under the moon,
which is nothing but bourgeois sentimentalism, has been
swept into the ash can of history. What I really mean to say is that you and I should get married. Don’t be nervous; just listen. Our marriage must obey the situation of revolution.
Now you are single, living in a spacious, gardenlike villa.
When your foreign friend comes to see you, he will defi-
nitely have questions about your personal life and ask after your family. Then it is hard for you to give an answer.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“If I am your spouse (not your lover), you should call me 1 4 3
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‘Mrs.’ in front of foreigners, and I should sit right by your side.” As she spoke, she sat close beside old Gui, and he was so scared that he put his hands on his knees, not daring to look at her even out of the corner of his eye. “He would find no excuse to ask about your former wife,” she continued.
“Our marriage will benefit you, the state, and the revolution. If I am your wife, I can defend your public as well as your domestic affairs. Any bastard who dares to bully my old man will learn that my old man may be timid, but I am not. With me standing right before them, who dares to fart?
I’ll stick a carrot up his ass right on the spot. I’m famous all over town.”
Old Gui shuddered in spite of himself.
“Think it over for ten minutes or so. Don’t think I want to gild myself in your glory. What glory do you have to gild me with? Nothing but black dust. I’m willing to do this
purely out of self-sacrifice. Gui Renzhong, a chance like this will never come again. One minute’s wrong choice yields
lifelong regret.” Thus saying, she put her hand on old Gui’s shoulder, who turned his frightened eyes to me. Being
exceptionally smart, Xie Li said, “Chairman Mao teaches us that one must think independently.”
Old Gui’s eyes withdrew from me timidly. “Let me think
– think – it over.”
“Only four minutes left.”
“I am much – much older – than you.”
“I know. Let me ask you this: What is the principal
requirement for revolutionary marriage? Answer me.”
“Of course, it’s – revolutionary – ideals.”
“Don’t you have revolutionary ideals? Don’t you want to
wipe out all imperialists, revisionists, and reactionaries?
Don’t you – ?”
“Yes, of course I want – ”
“That’s all you need, my dear revolutionary companion.”
Giving old Gui’s head a pat, Xie Li stood up and went
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outside. Opening the gate, she shouted, “Comrades in arms, unload.”
Neither old Gui nor I had noticed the two and one-half-
ton truck parked outside. At Xie Li’s command, three husky men jumped down from the truck. One carried quilts and
pillows, the other two followed empty-handed, although
one of them seemed to have a large roll of paper in one of his pockets. In high spirits, Xie Li led them into the sitting room, handily flipping on the crysta
l chandelier and all the side lights. I suddenly realized it was already dark and that Yunqian must be waiting for me anxiously.
“Look how wonderful your new wife is. She’s brought her
own bedding with her. This king-size sheet is brand-new. So are the silk comforter and nylon mosquito net. These pillow cases are embroidered, not with flowers but with quotations. Look at this one: ‘Never forget class struggle.’ And this one: ‘Be vigilant against revisionism.’ If you think you don’t have to keep politics in command while you’re sleeping, you’re wrong. The noose of class struggle must be
tightened at all times. Take them to the upstairs bedroom.”
Xie Li waved her hand decisively.
“They – ,” old Gui said anxiously, “they won’t let me
sleep on the bed. They told me to sleep on the floor so I wouldn’t dirty the hotel comforter.”
“But things are always changing. Now I’m here. How
dare they forbid us to use the bed? The bed is for sleeping, isn’t it? Today it’s on the bed of the bourgeoisie that the proletarian will sleep. This is called ‘The joy of reversing heaven and earth.’ I can sleep in the bed, and so can my husband.” The man carrying the bedroll made a racket with his hobnailed shoes as he went up the stairs.
“Now for the formalities.”
“Formalities?” Gui looked like a monkey trussed up by a
hunter. “Now? Here?”
One man took out a stack of marriage certificates
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stamped with the seal of the district revolutionary committee, and the other took out an ink pad. “Write this.” Xie Li started dictating: “His name is Gui Renzhong.”
“Gui as in rich?”
“No. Gui as in chrysanthemum. ”
The man tore up the first certificate and wrote Gui Ren-
zhong’s name on a new one. “Bride’s name?”
“You son of a bitch, how dare you forget my name?” Xie
Li slapped the back of his head.
With a wry expression, the man wrote down Xie Li’s
name. “Now place your seals here and here.”
Xie Li took a huge seal from her pocket and the man
helped her stamp it on the certificate. Confused, old Gui said, “All my possessions were taken away at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution.”