SHE READS FAIRLYNN'S ESSAY in The People's Literature on her Forbidden City tour, guided by Mao.
Our great Savior stood next to me. The disconsolate moan of the wind over the Zhong-nan-hai Lake grew stronger. He pointed out to me the half-drowned ancient dragon boat with its tail sticking out like a monster. We discussed the history of peasant revolts. He explained heroism. I am sure my face beamed like a young school pupil. I was completely taken.
I opened my thoughts and told him that I had been a pessimist. In his teaching, years of ice shaped by darkness inside me melted down and drifted away. I felt light and warmth. Like a long-lost boat my heart made it to a safe harbor… The Chairman drew his eyes back from the shadowed walls. Our glances met. He replied when I asked his thoughts on love, We've lived in a time of chaos when it is impossible to love. War and hatred dried our soul's blood. What dissolves my despair is the memory. The memory of the sky above and the memory of the earth under-my loved ones who died for the revolution. Every day my world starts with the light they shine on me. Light, Fairlynn! The light which keeps a promising summer in my soul during the coldest winter.
No, I am not coming to join the concubines of the Forbidden City. Jiang Ching's teeth clench as she closes the magazine. I don't belong. The abandoned souls. The names which the glittering medals, citations and stone gates honor. I don't give a damn. I hate this breath, its dampness. I have an appetite for bright, hot lights. I won't let the coldness of a funeral house seep through my skin.
It is Kang Sheng who informs me of Mao's syphilis. Again, it is Kang Sheng.
I am numbed by rage. I stare at his goat beard and his goldfish eyes.
Endurance is the key to success, he reminds me. Would you like me to make an arrangement with a doctor to give you a checkup? I mean to make sure…
His finger injects every vessel in my body with black ink.
Can you recall, Madame?
Yes, she does. It was after a state banquet at the People's Hall. They hadn't been intimate in years. Mao was in a good mood. Governors from all states came to report to him in Beijing, to pay him homage. The scene reminded him of emperors giving audience during the old dynasties. The revolutionary son of heaven. Business was running well. Every province orbited Beijing. The faith in him was tremendous. He has taken over the Buddha in the heart of his people. He encouraged the worship by making as few appearances as possible-the ancient trick of creating power and terror. When he did show up he kept his face hidden and his speech short and vague. He threw out a few comments during the meetings. A syllable or two. A mysterious smile and a firm handshake. It was effective. He had nothing to worry about now.
When all the guests were gone Mao took Jiang Ching and walked through the imperial kitchen. Let's go thank the cooks and the staff. On their way back to the Purple Light Pavilion, he was affectionate. She was escorted to the west wing and the two settled in the Peony Room.
She tried not to think about her feelings as she followed him.
The room seemed unnecessarily large. The light cast pink and yellow lily pads on the undulating surface of the wall. Alone with Mao she felt strange and nervous.
He sat down on the sofa and waved for her to sit down across from him. After a while, she felt awkward and asked to be excused. He acted as if surprised. He told her that he would like to chat and asked if she would sit back down. To break the silence she asked about his travels.
You have been lonely, he suddenly said.
She stood up and walked toward the door.
Stay. His word halted her.
She knew she couldn't disobey him. She went to sit back down, but on another sofa.
I am too old for guerrilla war today. He got up and came to share her seat. His hands caught her.
No, please! The words almost choked themselves out of her chest.
He was not affected. He took pleasure in her struggle. He gently forced his way. God provides food for every bird, but he doesn't throw it into its nest, she heard him say. You have to come out and pick it.
I'd rather continue my path to dust.
He didn't respond but began to pump her.
Her body shut down and her mind withdrew.
Drops of his sweat curved their way down onto the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks, down her ears and into her hair. Her rejection unnerved him. Holding her he kept lunging as if to push himself out of her.
We tryst… she cried suddenly, grinding the words. We tryst in the dark. Our skin once glowed, our bodies swelled in rapture, our flesh was consumed with impatience. But how would I know… that we were only to discover that this journey… the journey which gulped the fire of our youth, was… not worth traveling.
His right hand came to cover her mouth. His body beat her with its rhythm.
Suddenly he wound down, like a broken bicycle.
She felt herself living inside a clock, watching her own body in a strange motion. She tried to block her thoughts from shooting toward the future.
The late afternoon light continued to cut the Peony Room wall into shapes of rectangles and triangles. The burgundy carpet smelled of smoke. The ancient painting of peonies looked like spooky figures poking out of the wall. The sound of an underground pipe running mixed with the sound of a wok being scrubbed in the kitchen at the far end.
She listened for a long time. The sound of water running through the pipes tapped upon her skull. Then came the sound of steps. It was the guard on duty. The march stopped with a yell. Something fell. Some heavy bag. The guard ran. Then came the sound of two men talking. A truck driver, who was here to deliver live fish. The guard told him that he was in the wrong place. The driver asked for directions to the main kitchen entrance. The guard answered him in a strong Shan-dong dialect. The driver asked if he could use the restroom and the guard replied that he had to do it outside. Gradually the noise in the hallway died down.
She thought how strange it was that she had been married to Mao for seventeen years.
Do you know what secret it was that got us married? Mao asked as if reading her thoughts and then answered himself. It was the fascination with ourselves. We once were each other's mirror that reflected our own beauty. We sang hymns to ourselves… and that was all.
Getting up, he fastened his pants. A smoker who burned his pillow with his own cigarette butt. His tone was filled with irony.
You're wrong! she blurted out.
Come on, our life has been spent in battling the feudalists, Chiang Kai-shek, the Japanese, the imperialists, the mother earth and each other. Never mind the past. For your future's sake I advise you to remember the reason the willow blossom flies higher than a bird-it is because it has the wind's support.
Well, something you'd better remember too. You and I are two sides of one leaf-there is no way to split-your godlike picture depends on me to hold it in its place.
Play out your drama any way you like. He walked toward the door and paused. But don't assign me to any role.
The door slammed behind him.
The hall echoed.
No syphilis. The report from my doctor comes back. I let out a long breath. I was scared. Curious, I decide to telephone Mao's physician, Dr. Li. I ask if Mao has syphilis. After a nervous hesitation Dr. Li explains that he needs a letter of permission from the Politburo to reveal information on Mao's health. Doesn't it count that I am his wife?
I was instructed not to answer any question regarding the Chairman's health, Madame.
The line is silent for a while. I press on. If I am to sleep with him tonight, will it be safe?
No reply.
I will charge you with first-degree murder if you lie, Doctor.
I let the threat sit for a while and then repeat my question.
No. The man finally cracks. It won't be safe.
So he's got syphilis.
I didn't say that, Madame! He suddenly acts hysterical. I've never said that Chairman Mao had syphilis!
With his medical bags in hand Dr. Li flies in on a military jet at seven-thirty in the morning. Madame Mao receives him in a cottage surrounded by the West Lake in Hang-zhou. She is in a skylighted drawing room taking photos of roses.
Dr. Li wipes his brow and begins to unpack his equipment. She stops him. I sent for you to answer me one question. What have you done to cure Mao?
The man's fingers begin to play nervously with the zipper on his equipment case.
You see, Doctor, I don't exist if Mao gets chewed up by bugs.
Dr. Li lets out a breath. Forgive me, Madame… The Chairman… he is not particularly fond of my treatment.
She laughs as she takes apart her tripod. That's typical!
Dr. Li smiles humbly. Well, the Chairman is always busy. He has a country to run.
He is an old smelly-rotten-stone from the bottom of a manure pit, she says loudly. I know how you feel, Doctor. I have been trying to change his diet for years without a single success. He loves fat pork with sugar and soy sauce. The greasier the better. But the syphilis bug is a different matter, isn't it? What will happen if he continues to be the virus carrier? Will the other parts of his body be infected? Will he die from the disease?
No, Dr. Li confirms. It does much less damage to a man than to a woman.
Are you saying that he'd be fine without taking any medication?
The doctor chooses to remain silent again.
Is it difficult to get rid of the bug?
No, not at all. All the Chairman has to do is to receive a couple of shots.
Did you explain this to him?
Yes I did, Madame.
What happened?
The man's mouth drops and he won't utter another word.
She passes him a towel to wipe his sweat. Again it's typical. My husband couldn't care less about what happens to his partners. Sit down, Doctor. You don't have to make a sound. Just correct me if I am wrong. Please believe that I know Mao inside out. Did he say that there was no way you could make him suffer the shots? I bet he said exactly that. Yes? You see. He has to continue the practice of longevity and you think what an awful human being he is, don't you?
No no no no. The man springs up from the sofa. I've never thought… I'd never dare…
She smiles as if finding the situation comical.
Dr. Li continues like a bad actor reciting his lines. I would never think of Chairman Mao in such a way. I am a one hundred percent revolutionary. I devote my life to our great leader, great teacher, great commander-our Great Helmsman.
Poor man. Putting her camera into its case she teases, Then you must think that these girls deserve the bugs, don't you? No? Why not? It's their punishment, isn't it? I understand that some of the victims of syphilis can never bear children? Am I wrong? All right, I am right. Do you sympathize with the girls? I would be surprised if you didn't. I was told that you are a decent doctor. Do you believe in the Chairman's practice? Have you encouraged him? Then you discouraged him? No? Why? Why not? You are a doctor. You are supposed to cure, to heal, to stop the virus! What? You don't know? You see, you have come to understand my situation now. Because you are experiencing what I am experiencing. It is all about how a decent person gets stripped of his dignity.