The Thought Cathedral

by Nathan Williams

  “The Central Committee is a powerful decision-making body within the Party,” Xiang said. “The Central Committee consists of the General Secretary, who is now the de facto ‘paramount leader’ of China, the Politburo, the Politburo Standing Committee, the Secretariat, and the Central Military Commission. It’s the Politburo Standing Committee, which consists of seven people, that’s currently the de facto highest and most powerful decision-making body in China. This hasn’t always been the case. During the Cultural Revolution, for example, it wasn’t nearly as powerful as it is today.

  “The way it was designed to work is the Standing Committee is selected from the Politburo, whose twenty-five members are selected by the Central Committee. It is the Standing Committee where most of the crucial decisions are made. These seven people meet once a week and make decisions by consensus.”

  “So, ultimately, the major players are all chosen by the Party?” Lee asked.

  “Yes, that’s true. It all starts with the National Congress, which is where the Central Committee is selected although, in practice, the Central Committee is selected before the National Congress actually convenes. In practice, the process really works in reverse. The Standing Committee has a lot of influence as to who’s elected to the Politburo, and both the Standing Committee and members of the Politburo influence those chosen to the Central Committee. The process is really top down rather than bottom up, as it was originally designed. Most of these selections are discussed and agreed upon well before the actual elections occur.”

  “What about the Secretariat? What do they do?”

  “The Secretariat takes the policy decisions made by the Standing Committee of the Politburo and turns them into action. It implements them.”

  “How is the C.C.P. organized at lower levels?”

  “Let me just briefly explain that, at each level of government, there is both a Communist Party official and a corresponding official of the government. This is referred to as a dual administrative system. So, for example, at the national level, there is a leader of the C.C.P., which is the General Secretary, but there is also the government leader, called the Premier. Then, at the provincial level, there is the C.C.P. Provincial Committee Secretary for each province and then also a corresponding government official, called the Governor. Similarly, at the municipal level, you have the C.C.P. Municipal Committee Secretary and the corresponding government official, called a Mayor. And on it goes down the ladder through the county, township, and village levels.

  “At each level, the Party chief determines the direction of policy as well as personnel changes, while the corresponding government leader is responsible for implementing party policy, arranging the budget, as well as other everyday matters. At all levels, it is the Party official that wields the power, and that official is expected to make major decisions only with the approval of the Party official at the next highest level of administration. In this way, the Party maintains tight control over all governmental affairs. That power flows from the top down.”

  “So your father is the C.C.P. Municipal Committee Secretary of Shanghai.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And your father would have more power than the Mayor of Shanghai.”

  “Yes, he does. The Party official has more power than the executive official.”

  “I understand,” Lee said.

  They walked a little way further in silence while Lee let this information sink in.

  “Your father is in a prestigious position,” Lee offered. “I’m familiar enough with China’s government to know that Shanghai is considered a very important city within the Party leadership.”

  “Oh, yes, absolutely,” Xiang said. “That’s why it was given provincial-level municipality status. Top Party officials in Shanghai are often fast tracked for entry into the Central Committee and the Politburo.”

  “So there’s a very real chance your father could end up having to move to Beijing sometime in the future.”

  “Yes, there is. I think he would prefer to stay in Shanghai to be honest with you. But it wouldn’t look good if he refused to go. He might be forced to give up his position.”

  “What does he think of you staying in New York? Does it reflect badly on him?”

  “It does to a degree,” Xiang said. “But, ultimately, he wants me to do what I want.”

  Or, he supports your stay in New York because you’re feeding the C.C.P. classified information, Lee thought.

  “I may go back in a few years,” Xiang said. “I’m not in a hurry.”

  They walked in silence again for a little while longer as a flurry of pedestrian walkers, runners, and cyclists passed by.

  Xiang slid a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

  “Want a light?”

  “Sure. I’m trying to quit but…just this once,” Lee said.

  Xiang shrugged. “Everyone smokes in China.”

  “Have you had a chance to travel much throughout the rest of China?” Lee asked. “Have you had a chance to get out of Shanghai much?”

  “A little bit, yes. I’ve been to Beijing a few times, Guangzhou, Chengden, Xi’an, Nanjing. Let me see—” Xiang closed his eyes in concentration.

  “Have you ever taken that high-speed train?” Lee asked.

  “Yes, I have. From Beijing to Guangzhou. I was with my father on one of his business trips.”

  “What was that like?”

  “It was very impressive,” Xiang said, his mouth sliding into a smirk. “I’ve never had an experience quite like that.”

  “Have you been to Hong Kong?”

  “Yes, I have. It was on that same trip south to Guangzhou. Guangzhou is right there along the shores of the South China Sea along with Shenzhen.”

  “What was your favorite place?”

  Xiang had to take another moment to think.

  “I think I’d say my visit to Hangzhou was my favorite.”

  Lee frowned. “I’ve never heard of it. Why do you list that as your favorite?”

  “It’s just a very beautiful city. There’s a lot of really beautiful architecture there from the Song Dynasty. It’s one of the most scenic cities in China. Mao used to vacation there in the summertime. During the Cultural Revolution, it was known as China’s ‘silk city.’ Its hand-woven silk portraits and landscapes, a specialty of their craftsmen, are famous throughout Europe and the rest of the world.”

  “What about the U.S.? Have you traveled around the States?”

  “A little bit, but not as extensively.”

  “Any impressions of the U.S.?”

  “I’ve been mostly only on the coasts,” Xiang said. “I did see the Grand Canyon. That was impressive.”

  “Care to make a comparison?”

  “Comparison between what? The U.S. and China?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I don’t think it would be fair to the U.S.,” Xiang said, smiling. “I haven’t seen enough of the U.S. to judge fairly. But China is magnificent. Geographically, it is a magnificent country. It has everything the U.S. has. There are majestic mountains to the west in the Himalayan and Karakoram mountain ranges. That’s where Everest is, you know, in the Himalayas. It also has fertile flat lands throughout the Yellow River Basin in the North China Plain. There are the Gobi and Taklamakan Deserts in the north and northwest near Mongolia, and then there are sub-tropical forests in the humid southeast. The Yangtze and Yellow rivers run through China, which are the third and sixth longest in the world respectively. It’s a majestic country.”

  “Yes, well, maybe someday I’ll have a chance to go back and see some of that beautiful country.”

  “Someday you will,” Xiang said. “When was the last time you visited?”

  “I went with my parents and with my brother to Beijing when I was four years old. So, it’s been a long time.”

  “Do you remember anything?”

  “No, I really don’t, unfortunately.”

  Xiang took a pull of his cigarette. �
��Well, all the more reason to go back.”

  They meandered slowly, progressing through the park. Lee pressed him on his life before he’d arrived in the U.S., a life that, she discovered, was lived mostly apart from his father, who was always busy with his business and Party duties. She learned he’d attended affluent private schools in Shanghai that were oriented toward preparing students for education overseas. It seemed his life was an endless succession of days spent either studying, assisting in two of his uncles’ local businesses, and following his father around Beijing and on his travels across China. He related the development of his social skills stemming from the multitude of Party functions he was required to attend at the request of his rapidly advancing father.

  Eventually, they exited Central Park and found a subway station in the Upper East Side along 5th Avenue. Xiang followed her along the center aisle, sliding in next to her on her right. They rode mostly in silence, Lee content to quietly study the people piling in and then exiting. She studied Xiang’s taut face in the dim lighting of the train. The occasional flickering light of the lanterns placed along the tracks illuminated his face for brief moments as the train sped south. It was during an extended period of darkness, as the train slid silently under a slender bridge, that Xiang dared cross into her personal space. He quietly slid his left hand under her right, which she’d kept lying on her lap, and squeezed it gently. She reluctantly took it into her own and held it for the duration of the remainder of the trip into Lower Manhattan.

  “Lyn, I know a little cafe in Lower Manhattan. Why don’t you come along with me and keep me company. Otherwise, I’ll have to call a friend of mine from Berkeley.”

  She wasn’t certain if Xiang was being serious with the last statement, or if it was his sardonic sense of humor.

  “Not tonight, Xiang.”

  Xiang frowned. “Why not?”

  “It’s just been a long day. But I did want to ask if you’d like to go to the Ingenuity Ball with me.”

  “The Ingenuity Ball? I’d forgotten about that.”

  “It’s coming up soon. In a few days. Do you want to go?”

  “Sure, I think that sounds like fun.”

  The train came to a halt, the brakes hissing loudly through the commotion of the bustling crowds. They would part ways here. Xiang would depart the train to make it back to his Manhattan apartment, while Lee would continue on into Brooklyn.

  Xiang rose to leave, and Lee stood to see him off. Xiang kissed her briefly on the cheek, and she watched him as he slid out into the Manhattan night.

  Was this the face of a Chinese spy?

  The spy?

  A spy who was, at this very moment, the singular cause of all the chatter and activity from a place thousands of miles away; the sole reason for the existence of the nameless American soldiers toiling every day under dictatorial governance. A place located seemingly at the ends of the earth. An exotic place. A place of brutal history and extravagant tradition. An ancient place. An imperial place.

  Part II

  The Ingenuity Ball

  Chapter 14

  New York City

  Saturday, January 31, 11:43 a.m. EST

  Dr. Wu Xiang bounced in front of Lyn Lee in the dim light, his lithe frame seemingly floating above the mat. He was dressed in a pair of black athletic shorts and a white T-shirt. He wore sparring gloves, and a hogu, or chest protector, around his torso, and a padded helmet.

  They’d begun the third round of an impromptu sparring match in taekwondo at Brooklyn Fitness and Martial Arts, Lyn Lee’s home gym. As with the first two rounds, the opening moments were tentative. They began circling each other on their toes, looking for an opening to attack.

  Lee, wearing black polyester athletic pants and a red long-sleeved shirt, was also clad in gloves and protective gear. She strode horizontally with her feet, the heel of her left foot clipping her right, as she danced counter-clockwise in a circle. The muted tones of the gym blended together as she let her eyes wander beyond Xiang, who was shuffling rhythmically in front of her. They could only float about in a circle for so long before the unwritten rule of conduct set in. It was time to get on with the match.

  Lee and Xiang stepped toward each other simultaneously. Xiang sprang forward suddenly, hoping to catch her by surprise but Lee, light on her feet, stepped quickly back and away from him. They side-stepped again in a circle, a much smaller circle this time. Xiang sprang forward again and launched an arcing punch with his right hand, followed quickly by a left-hand uppercut to Lee’s abdomen. Lee deflected the right-hand roundhouse with her left elbow, but the uppercut hit its target, temporarily knocking the wind out of her.

  “Nice left,” Lee acknowledged.

  Lee countered quickly. She’d noticed something was wrong with Xiang, causing him to favor his right foot. Waiting until the moment Xiang shifted his weight to his left foot, she darted toward him. To her dismay, Xiang was able to shift his weight off of his left foot and rotate his body. Xiang deflected an attempted jab with Lee’s right fist and stepped backwards with his left foot. He let Lee’s forward momentum carry into him, pulling her through and over his left hip. Lee was flipped into the air, landing with a thud on her back. Xiang seemed to be getting the better of her.

  Lee popped back up onto her feet. “I just can’t believe I let you do that.”

  “Let me?” Xiang asked.

  Lee stepped forward, tentatively, in a series of quick, careful hops toward Xiang. Xiang feigned an attack, stepping quickly forward and raising his right leg as though he were going to initiate a kick, but then abruptly pulled it back. Xiang followed this with another burst forward and then with a punch to her torso and a kick with his right leg.

  Lee easily blocked the punch and parried the kick by turning her body clockwise ninety degrees to absorb the blow. She quickly counter-attacked by spinning clockwise, thus finishing the three hundred and sixty degree arc, and following through with a reverse kick. Her foot impacted squarely on Xiang’s head. She heard a noise, like an “…oomph,” escape from Xiang as the force of her kick knocked him off balance. She gave him a moment to reset his mouth guard, which had been knocked partially out of his mouth.

  A few more seconds passed before there was any more contact as each threatened attacks before pulling back. Xiang moved in closer, wary of Lee’s quick hands and feet, and tried to complete a reverse kick. Lee ducked easily underneath it and launched a successful counter-attack with a scoring kick that connected with his hogu and then a punch to his head. The punch stunned him for a moment, and Lee nudged him back, away from her.

  “Had enough yet?” Lee said, smiling.

  Xiang didn’t respond, which Lee interpreted to mean that he wanted to finish the remainder of the round. She glanced at a clock sitting next to the mat. Only forty-five seconds left.

  Seeing Lee glance at the clock, Xiang launched an aggressive attack, hoping to catch her off-guard. Lee didn’t see his advance until late, out of the corner of her eye. Xiang had launched a left-right combination. Lee, with her quick hands, was able to slide her left arm up to block his right fist, then rolled to her left as his right fist glanced off the side of her helmet. As Xiang’s momentum carried him forward, Lee pivoted, executing a high kick that caught him flush in the side of the head, again knocking his helmet askew. Lee threw a hard right into his hogu, then another to his head. The force of the second punch knocked his helmet off entirely. She then threw in a left-right combo into Xiang’s torso for good measure.

  “Okay, okay,” Xiang said. “I give up.” Xiang tossed the helmet so that it slid clear off the mat.

  For a moment, Lee thought Xiang was genuinely angry.

  “You’re very good,” he said, a wry smile crossing his face.

  “Thank you. You’re better than I thought you’d be. Good balance, flexibility, all of that.”

  Xiang remained silent, looking at her with an expression of skepticism.

  Lee smiled thinly. “You do telegraph your reverse
kick, however.”

  “Do I really?” Xiang seemed genuinely surprised. “How so?”

  “You adjust your weight to rebalance yourself right before you do it. It’s kind of a common problem.”

  “Awww, I see. It’s difficult to do it smoothly.”

  “It is. It takes a lot of practice. Do you want to go another round?”

  Xiang breathed deeply. “No, not just now, thanks. I need to train myself up a bit before I spar with you again.”

  They both slid out of their chest protectors. Xiang forced another sardonic smile.

  Lee returned his smile with one of her own. It had been anything but one sided. Xiang had been almost excessively modest prior to the match. She’d found he was much better than he’d let on beforehand. They both grabbed their pieces of equipment and returned them to a series of bins owned by the gym.

  “Where did you do your taekwondo training?” Lee asked.

  “It’s been a couple of years since I trained regularly. I really haven’t trained since I left California. The last time I trained seriously was at a small gym in Berkeley.”

  “I understand,” Lee said. “Thanks for stepping on the mat with me. It’s always fun.”

  “Meet you at the front of the gym in a few minutes?”

  “Yes, see you then.”

  Twenty minutes later, Lee met Xiang at the front of the gym. They’d both changed into semi-casual clothing: Xiang in a pair of dark green jeans, a matching green button-down under a beige sweater, and a pair of all-terrain shoes; Lee in black jeans, a brown, beige, black, and tan knit sweater, and black winter boots. They both wore winter coats and had their gym bags slung over their shoulders.

  They hiked a few blocks to a subway station off of Lafayette Street and waited for the M line into Manhattan. A couple minutes later, the train strained to a stop in front of them, and the meager spattering of pedestrians began entering. A young man of Asian ancestry slipped in front of Xiang, cutting him off. Xiang let loose a sharp whistle followed tersely by a string of Chinese phrases in a dialect Lee was unable to understand. For just a moment, the young man turned toward Xiang, seemingly surprised at Xiang’s outburst, and Lee realized it wasn’t a man but a young woman. She appeared androgynous with her hair cut short and a silver earing in her left ear.