Becoming Madame Mao (4 page)

In 1930 she thinks herself a peacock among hens. Her life is the proof. She tells herself, sometimes one has to be put in a henhouse in order to be measured, compared and recognized.

I run away from my marriage. A girl of eighteen. Not very well educated and all alone in the world. I can't remember how many days I wander from place to place. I have lice in my hair and my underwear smells. I think about giving up. I almost do.

Finally I manage to locate Zhao Taimo, who is now the new president of Shan-dong University. I am sure that he remembers me and I assume that he will find a way to lend me a hand. But I am disappointed. Mr. Zhao says that he is too busy. If I want to be a student, I have to apply through the admissions office. How can I? I have no diplomas. I haven't even completed elementary school. But I try not to feel discouraged. I make myself go to Mr. Zhao's wife, Yu Shan, to beg.

She plays her role passionately. Stories of her struggle, shows lice in her hair, blisters on her feet. She moves the audience. Don't cry, says Yu Shan. Don't worry. There is hope. I know someone who might be helpful. Let me work on it and I'll get back to you in a few days.

Yu Shan finds the girl a job working in the school library as an assistant, which allows her to be a part-time student. The girl feels excited and nervous at the same time. She attends classes, walks around the campus and meets new people. She speaks humbly and carefully. She is eager to impress and eager to make friends. One day, Yu Shan brings a handsome young man to meet her. It is her brother, Yu Qiwei. Yu Shan introduces him. The student leader, the secretary of the underground Communist Party on campus.

Neither Yu Shan nor Yunhe could know that this man will become the girl's next husband—and more dramatically, one of the power-managers of Mao Tse-tung, the girl's fourth husband.

My first impression of Yu Qiwei is that he is extremely good-looking and calm like a summer lake. His smile relaxes me. He is in a navy blue Chinese two-piece suit. A pair of black cotton sandals. He sits opposite me, drinking tea. His sister has been trying to explain the meaning of his name—
Qi
as enlightenment and
Wei
as power and prestige.

It is a beautiful autumn day. We sit outside the teahouse near the campus under a large maple tree. The ground is carpeted by the red and yellow maple leaves. The colors are pure and bright. When the breeze stirs, leaves rain down. A couple land on Yu Qiwei's shoulders. He picks up a leaf and admires it. Yu Shan finishes her introduction and makes an excuse to leave.

The girl is interested but doesn't show it. She nods politely, sips her tea. Yu Qiwei asks what kind of classes interest her the most. Literature and theater, she answers. How interesting, he responds, and tells her that he has been involved with artists who put on political plays. She says that she doesn't know the group but admires them. Maybe you would like to work with them someday, suggests Yu Qiwei. Maybe, she smiles.

He then asks whether she enjoys campus life. She answers his questions. She doesn't ask any. There is no need. She knows all there is to know about him through Yu Shan. Finally he asks, Don't you have any questions regarding me? They both laugh. Your sister told me that you were a talent in the biology department. Oh that, he laughs. Yes, but that was before I became a full-time Communist. I see politics as a much more effective way to save the country.

Looking into the young man's eyes, Yunhe discovers something extraordinary. When he begins to talk about his country and his belief in Communism his expression is exalted. She is instantly attracted. But she is not sure whether he is attracted to her. It doesn't stop her. She pursues. She lets him know that she would like to meet people, his friends. He is glad. He finds her beautiful and pleasant.

The next day he takes her to see a street play. He introduces her to his friends. She is impressed and discovers that he is adored by almost everyone, especially women. His charisma and ability to communicate and lead make him a natural magnet.

She sits in front of a checkout desk expecting him without knowing whether he will come. He usually steps into the library right before she gets off work. She sees him now. She turns away, pretending that she is writing. She doesn't want him to know her feelings. Yu Shan has told her that he has many female admirers.

She sees him approaching. He comes near, smiles, and tells her that he is here to deliver a message from his sister. Yu Shan and Mr. Zhao have invited us both for a private dinner. Would you please come?

We begin to meet. We take long strolls around the campus as the sun is setting. The campus was originally a German military base. The library was built on the waist of a hill facing the sea. Its roof is made of red glass tile and its windows have delicate wooden frames. The views from the hill are breathtaking. Our other favorite spot is the port of Qing-dao. Its beauty lies in the mingling of traditional and modern architecture. At the end of the long seashore is a pavilion which, when the sun sets, brings one onto the stage of the ancient poet Ci Yin's poem "On Farewell." Sometimes we recite the lines together.

And so, dear friend, at Brown Crane Tower
You bid the west adieu
Mid April mists and blossoms go
Till in the vast blue-green
Your lonely sail's far shade no more is seen
Only on the sky's verge the river flow

Every morning, when the sea awakens the city, the young woman Yunhe and young man Yu Qiwei appear shoulder to shoulder at the shore. There is the faint smell of rotten fish and salt water. Blown by the wind Yunhe's hair brushes softly over Yu Qiwei's cheek. They come again in the evenings to watch the moon. To watch how the ocean puts on its silver nightgown and dances. In the distance are blinking lights of passing ships. The night stretches in front of them endlessly.

In the beginning, the conversation is about banned books and plays—
A Doll's House, The Dream of the Red Chamber
—and then the future of the nation, the inevitable foreign invasion, freedom, socialism, Communism and feminism. She listens to him and gradually feels herself falling in love. She doesn't tell him about Mr. Fei, her ex-husband. But a couple of times she makes odd remarks: The true poverty is having no choice in life. No choice but getting married, for example. No choice but to be a prostitute or a concubine, to sell one's body. She is in tears when she says that.

Yu Qiwei pulls her closer and holds her. He finds himself becoming inseparable from her. The girl from Jinan. The bright almond eyes. He feels the sweet-stir inside him. Suddenly he tears himself away from her and runs toward the night waves. He dives into the water, swims, splashes his arms. Under the white moonlight, the silver water streams down from the tips of his fingers.

She watches him, wiping her tears happily.

Through him she learns to be comfortable with herself. She learns that her own judgment counts, that she can trust herself. She is no longer restless. Yu Qiwei makes her happy, content and inspired. They court seriously. She is his everywoman. Each night, she is different. She loves to perform. Last night she was Nora and tonight she is Lady Yuji. She does this genuinely and effortlessly. She likes the idea that he is popular among women. It gives her the chance to prove herself, to prove that there is no way a hen can outshine a peacock. In his arms she realizes that she is capable of playing any role.

She thinks of him as a hero of the time. It stimulates her to think that she nurtures a powerful man, that thus she is the source of the power, strong and worthy. Each night when she opens herself she feels this way. She likes to witness how she is desired, how he becomes helpless without her. She likes to prolong the moment of sweet torture, to make him want her so much that he begs and cries. Sometimes she is quiet from beginning to end. The only sound in the room is the sound of their breathing, its rising and falling like a distant sea, the ocean, the water that wraps the earth.

Yu Qiwei is daring and shy at the same time. He is a respected public figure, a wise man, almost fatherlike, yet with me he is a young boy in a fruit shop. I love it when he wants me in his sleep. This is often the case. He comes home late. He has been promoted as the provincial Party secretary. His meetings take place in darkness, in disguise and secrecy. Each night I wait for him.

It is the late autumn of 1931. Through Yu Qiwei I learn that the Japanese invasion has deepened. China's three northern provinces are occupied. The workers and students put on demonstrations. Day and night, my lover is there to call the public's consciousness. We decide to get married. There is no time for the wedding ceremony. We have more important things to do. Moving into a small two-room place we settle down. Our friends and relatives are notified of our union. In fact I have been respected as Yu Qiwei's wife from the moment we started dating. Everyone thinks of us as a perfect couple.

I volunteer to work for the Communist group under Yu Qiwei's leadership. He has convinced his theater friends to take advantage of my talent. I become a leading actress for a small left-wing troupe. I help create anti-Japanese plays and take them to the streets. The first play is called
Put Down Your Whip.
I play a girl who finally stands up to her abusive father. It feels like I am playing my life. I act out what I couldn't back home. Yu Qiwei is my most faithful fan. It always makes me happy when I see his face in the crowd. He hugs and kisses me as he congratulates the other cast members. He leads the crowd, shouting
Down with the Japanese invaders!

I am part of my lover, part of his work and part of China's future.

In his bed, I am tame, settled. He is exhausted. He falls right to sleep when his head hits the pillow. He hasn't been able to sleep for days. I get up and cook noodles and vegetables. I know that he will want to eat when he wakes. He eats a lot. Three bowls. It makes me laugh to think about the way he eats. He apologizes for his manners but continues to eat. He calls himself a toilet that flushes the food down.

I cross my legs on the floor and watch him sleep. His sweet, boylike face. Sometimes he drools. He is so tired he sleeps in his coat; he hasn't the energy to take it off. I don't wake him. I take off his shoes, slowly and gently. There is a truck passing by outside on the street. I am afraid that he will wake. But he is fine, keeps dreaming.

I lie down next to him and fall asleep myself. Once in a while the noise outside keeps me up. I feel that I haven't seen him for so long that I still miss him. I am afraid that he will wake and tell me that he has to move on.

I take off his coat, shirt and pants. I push him toward the wall side of the bed. He doesn't wake up. Maybe he just knows that it is me and knows what I am going to do.

He has told her that he loves it, loves what she does when he is dreaming. He says that she always knows when he has a steaming dream. He is too busy to feed his body, and the desire comes in his dreams. She knows the timing—when, exactly, he needs her.

It usually begins with a towel. For he is covered with dust and sweat. She rubs him with the cloth. A few strokes, the towel turns brown. She moves around, tosses the towel in hot water. Sometimes he turns around, in half sleep, as if to help her out. A born pleasure seeker, he used to describe himself. It has to do with his background, a bourgeois family spoiled with comforts. What makes him a revolutionary? She has no idea. There are such people in the Communist Party. What do they risk their heads for? It isn't food, she is sure. The power to control? The love of country? Or just following an instinct—to be a bigger man than the rest?

The smooth body, the golden flesh. He is a naked god who doesn't know shame. I can't stop myself from tasting him. I taste him alongside the dishes I have prepared for him, next to his dirty clothes. I unbutton my blouse. I have the urge to feed him.

He opens his mouth, like an infant. Smiles, sweetly. I touch him gently as I take off my underwear. It is at this moment I feel his hands coming.

In his desire I hear the singing of a storm as it breaks across a river.

The time-mountain will be there, left there, years later. It remembers the passion of the storm and the river.

***

We are walking in the dark. Three of us. A friend of Yu Qiwei walks a half block behind us. This is going to be our ceremony, he says, a spirit union. I smile, nervous but excited. I thank him for the guidance. We slow down to allow the friend to catch up. Yu Qiwei then passes me to the friend—- a secret Communist agent. He talks to the friend again about safety, instructs him to take the alley behind the silk factory on Yizhou Road, not the cross street, Xin-ming Road. Be careful of the spies. The man nods. Congratulations, Yu Qiwei whispers to me.

I follow the man, my heart a rabbit in a bag. We walk quickly toward a small park where the bushes are thick. The man takes the alley. Before we make a turn the man looks back. There is no tail.

A half-hour later, I am pronounced a member of the Communist Party. I have just completed my oath and registration.

As Yunhe raises her right fist above her head, facing a cigarette-pack-size red flag with a crossed sickle and hammer, she thinks of Yu Qiwei. She thinks that they are now soulmates and she is his partner. She will be entitled to have access to all his activities. She will get to go out with him, to secret meetings and places. They will risk their lives for China together. She still doesn't know enough of Communism itself. This doesn't bother her. She believes in Yu Qiwei, and that is enough. She believes in the Communist Party the same way she believes in love. In Yu Qiwei she finds her own identity. If Yu Qiwei represents the conscience of China, so does she. That is how she looks at herself in 1931. It matches her image of herself, the heroine, the leading lady. Later on, the same pattern repeats itself. When she becomes Mao's wife, she thinks, logically, that if Mao is the soul of China, so is she.

I
T HAPPENS ONLY A FEW MONTHS
after we have been together. One week Yu Qiwei is out traveling from place to place and then he disappears. No one is able to locate him. The next thing I learn is that he has been arrested, jailed, said to be killed. Yu Shan comes to me and tells me the news.