IT'S BEEN TWO YEARS since Mao instigated the movement called the Great Leap Forward. Mao has set himself to be the greatest ruler of all time-he wants to push China to the top of the world's productivity records. The strategy is to release and utilize the energy and potential of the peasants, the same peasants who prosecuted Mao's war to such a glorious conclusion. It will be an explosion of energy and innovation; thus heaven-mandated Communism will be achieved in five years. One will get to do whatever one likes and eat whatever one wants.
Inspired by the notion, the nation answers Mao's call. Every piece of private land is taken away and put under the ownership of the government. Peasants are encouraged to "experience Communism where they live"-free-food commune cafeterias begin to bloom like weeds after a rain. On the industrial front, Mao promotes "backyard steel factories." The locals are ordered to donate their woks, axes and wash basins.
The Great Leap is the perfect expression of Mao's mind and beliefs, his daring and romanticism. He waits for the results anxiously. At the beginning there is praise for his vision, but two years later come reports of violence breaking out between poor and rich. Looting for food and shelter has become a problem. Before autumn the stir becomes so serious that it begins to threaten security. Everything is consumed, including the planting seeds for next spring, while nothing is produced. The nation's last storage is empty. Mao begins to feel the pressure. He begins to realize that running a country is not like winning a guerrilla war.
1959 begins with floods and is followed by drought. A sense of desperation falls across the land. Despite Mao's call to fight the disaster- It is man's will, not heaven, that decides -hundreds and thousands of peasants flee their hometowns in search of food. Along the coastline many of them are forced to sell their children and some poison their entire families to end the despair. By winter, the number of deaths rises to twenty million. Reports have piled up on the desk of Premier Zhou's office.
Mao is more embarrassed than worried. He remembers how determined he was to make his plan a reality. He has issued instructions:
"Race toward Communism"
"Demolish family structure"
"One rice bowl, one pair of chopsticks, one set of blankets- the style of Communism"
"One hectare, ten thousand pounds of yams, two hundred thousand pounds of rice"
"Mate rabbit with cow so the rabbit will get as big as the cow"
"Raise chickens as big as elephants"
"Grow beans as big as the moon and eggplants big as squashes"
In June, peasants' riots rise in Shanxi and Anhui provinces. The Politburo calls a vote to stop Mao's policy.
Mao retreats for the next six months.
My husband has fallen from the clouds. I have only seen him once in three months. He looks low and distressed. Nah tells me that he sees no one. No more actresses. The news fills me with mixed feelings. Of course, I am hopeful that he may reach out to me. But I am also surprised and even saddened-I have never imagined that he could be vulnerable.
Late one evening Kang Sheng visits my place unexpectedly. Mao is in need of you, he tells me excitedly. The Chairman's reputation has been terribly damaged. His enemies are now taking advantage of his error and are setting out to overthrow him.
I take a sip of the chrysanthemum tea. It has never tasted so wonderful as it does now.
I begin to see a way in which I can help Mao. I become so excited with the thought that I neglect Kang Sheng's presence. I see printing machines rolling, voices broadcasting and films projecting. I feel the power of the media. The way it washes and bleaches minds. I can feel the coming success. There is energy going through my body. I am about to enter an act leading to the climax of my life.
Trying to share the pleasure of finding a great role, I explain to Kang Sheng how I feel. But he has fallen asleep on the sofa.
It begins with a convention in July 1959, held on Mount Lu, a resort area where the landscape is majestic. At first Mao appears humble and modest. He admits his mistakes and encourages criticism. His sincerity moves the delegates and representatives from all over the country, among them Fairlynn. Fairlynn criticizes Mao's Great Leap as a chimpanzee experiment; Yang Xian-zhen, a theorist and the director of the School of the Communist Party, points out that Mao has romanticized Communism and has applied fantasy to reality. On July 14, Mao's claimed loyalist, Marshal Peng De-huai, the son of a peasant, a man known for his great contributions and no-nonsense character, sends a personal letter to Mao in which he reports the result of his private investigation-the shocking facts about the failure of the People's Commune-the fruit of the Great Leap Forward.
Mao smokes. Packs a day. His teeth are brown and his fingernails are tobacco yellow. He listens to what others have to say and makes no response. The cigarette travels between his lips and the ashtray. Once in a while he nods, forces a smile, shakes hands with the speaker. Good job. You have spoken for the people. I appreciate your frankness. Be proud of yourself as a Communist.
A week later, Mao claims illness and announces his temporary resignation. Vice Chairman Liu takes over the nation's business.
I do not show my face at any of the meetings although I am at Mount Lu. I read reports sent by Kang Sheng and am more than well informed about the proceedings. Mao is bruised. I have a sense that he will not take it for long. He is not the type who admits mistakes. He thinks of himself as a Communist, but by instinct he is an emperor. He lives to be a leading man, just like me, who can't see herself not being a leading lady.
Seizing the moment, I decide to make a trip to Shanghai. I make friends with fresh faces. The artists and dramatists. The young and the ambitious. I cultivate relations by attending their openings and work with them on raw material. Would you like to devote your talent to Chairman Mao? I ask. How about changing this tune to the Chairman's favorite? Yes, be creative and daring.
I educate my friends by sending reference materials, among them "Midnight Incense," a Chinese classic opera piece, and the famous Italian song "Return to Sorrento." In the beginning they are confused-they were used to the traditional linear thinking. I broaden their minds and gradually they benefit from my teaching. They thrive on my ideas. There are a few brilliant minds. One composer for violin is so quick that he turns Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Flowers" into a Chinese folk dance and names it "The Red Sky of Yenan."
I train what I call a "cultural troop." A troop that Mao will need to fight his ideological battles. I can hardly keep it a secret. I can see it working. I imagine Mao looking at me with the smile he shone on me thirty years ago. On the other hand I am uncertain, even a little afraid-Mao has never quite seen things my way. How can I know if he will be pleased with what I am doing?
For the first time in many years I am no longer bothered by insomnia. I throw away the sleeping pills. When I wake up I no longer feel threatened by my rivals. Even Wang Guang-mei causes me no worry. Although she and Liu, her husband, enjoy the limelight, I predict that their days are numbered.
Vice Chairman Liu never realizes that this is where Mao's grudge starts. The plot begins while Liu gets busy trying to save the nation. Liu shuts Mao's commune system down and replaces it with his own invention, the zi-liu-de program, which allows peasants to own their backyards and sell whatever they have planted. The locals are encouraged to operate on a family basis. In essence, it is capitalism Chinese style. It is spit on Mao's face.
Madame Mao Jiang Ching observes her husband's mood. She has just gotten back from Shanghai. She and Kang Sheng have been watching the Mao-tiger get its whiskers pulled. Every day after the convention, Kang Sheng goes to Madame Mao's hotel room and updates her with news.
Pay attention to the timing, Kang Sheng says. The dragon-tornado is coming. It is near. Mao is going to attack and it will be the end of Liu. Watch, the more enemies Mao makes the faster he will turn to you.
Without a warning Mao returns to Beijing in September. He calls up a Politburo meeting and announces the removal of the minister of defense, Marshal Peng De-huai.
There isn't a hearing on the decision. Mao makes the decision as if it is his right. Like removing a shoe from his foot. Before the members of the Politburo get a chance to react, Marshal Peng is replaced by Mao's disciple Marshal Lin Biao, a man who praises Mao as a living god and who is trying to turn the People's Liberation Army into the "Great School of Mao Tse-tung Thoughts."
Marshal Lin Biao is a familiar character to me. I've learned from Mao that Lin Biao won key battles during the civil war and is a man of great tactics. I don't mention that I find his recent tactics rather transparent. He is the man who shouts A long life to Chairman Mao the loudest. But life is strange. He is also the man who orders Mao's train bombed. In the future Mao will promote him to be his successor and will also order his murder at his own residence.
Marshal Lin has always been physically weak-the opposite of his name, which means King of the Forest. He is so thin that he can be blown by wind. His wife Ye has told me that he can't stand light, sound or water. Like a thousand-year vase, he decays from the moisture in the air. He has a pair of triangle eyes and grassy eyebrows. He tries to hide his slight frame in military uniform. Still, one can tell his sickness by the bamboo-thin neck and the lopsided head as if it weighs too much for the neck.
And yet, now, she is inspired by Lin Biao. His way of getting Mao. It is so simple and childish. It works and has great effect. Lin flatters shamelessly. In the preface to the second edition of Mao's Little Red Quotation Book he calls Mao the greatest Marxist of all time. Chairman Mao defends and develops internationalism, Marxism and Leninism. Chairman Mao's one sentence equals others' ten thousand sentences. Only Mao's words reflect absolute truths. Mao is the genius born from heaven.
She has found similarities between Lin Biao and Kang Sheng when it comes to flattering Mao. Lin and Kang don't get along. She decides that for her own future she will burn incense in both of their temples.
It's been a long time since Mao requested my presence. When I am finally invited I find that the Chrysanthemum-Fragrance Study has changed its face. The once wild chrysanthemums have lost their firelike energy. The plants look tamed, uniformly trimmed, straight as soldiers. He doesn't bother to greet me when I enter. He is still in his pajamas. I am facing a sixty-nine-year-old balding man who hasn't washed for days. His face is a smeared drawing-there aren't any clear lines. He reminds me of a eunuch with a face of half man and half woman. Still, my heart trips over itself.
It's noon. He seems relaxed. Sit down, he says, as if we have always been close. Comrade Kang Sheng told me that you have an important idea that I should hear about.
The lines are on the tip of my tongue. I have been preparing for this. I have rehearsed the act a hundred times. But I am nervous. Am I truly finding my way back to him?
Chairman, she begins. You have pointed out at the eighth meeting in the tenth convention that there has been a tendency to use literature as a weapon to attack the Communist Party. I can't agree more. I believe that it is our enemy's intention.
He shows no expression.
She continues as if she is once again Nora on stage. I've turned my attention to a play that has recently become popular. I think the play has been used as a weapon against you.
What is it called?
Hairui Dismissed from Office.
I know the story. It is about Judge Hairui from the Ming dynasty during the ruling period of Emperor Jia-jing.
Yes, exactly. The story tells how Hairui risks his post to speak out for the people and how he heroically fights the emperor and gets purged.
I see. Mao's eyes narrow. Who is the author?
The vice mayor of Beijing, professor and historian Wu Han.
Mao turns silent.
She observes a change slowly taking place in his expression. His wrinkles stretch and squish, eyes grow into a line. She feels the moment and decides to twist the knife and press his most sensitive nerve.
Have you, Chairman, ever thought of this-why Hairui? Why a tragic hero? Why the scene where hundreds of peasants get down on their knees to bid him farewell when he is escorted into exile? If it is not a cry for Marshal Peng De-huai, what is it? If it is not saying that you are the bad Emperor Jia-jing, what is it?
Mao gets up and paces. Kang Sheng has already talked to me about the play, he suddenly turns around and speaks. Why don't you go and check into it for me? Bring back to me what you find as soon as possible.
At that moment I hear a familiar aria in my head.
Oh maiden in a palace tower
Soothing her love-laden
Like a glowworm golden
In a dell of dew
Scattering unbeholden
Its aerial hue
Soul in secret hour
With wine sweet as love
Which overflows her bower
After her report, Mao loses his composure.
I have been in power for fourteen years, he roars. And my opponents have never stopped plotting conspiracy. They wear me out. I have become the Garden of Yuanming-an empty frame. They suggest that I take vacations so they can form factions during my absence. What a fool I have been! The important posts have already been filled with their people. I can't even get through to the mayor's office.
Eagerly she responds, Yes, Chairman, that's exactly why the play Hairui Dismissed from Office is a hit-they have plotted the whole thing. The critics have orchestrated the play's promotion. Besides Wu Han, they include Liao Mu-sha and Deng Tuo, our country's most influential scholars.
Mao lights a cigarette and stands up from his rattan chair. His look softens for a moment. Jiang Ching, he says, many think of you as a meddler, as someone whose vision is short and feelings too strong. But you are seeing clearly now… It's been eight years that Vice Chairman Liu has been running the country. He has already established an extensive network. Wu Han is only a gun triggered by others.
The leading actors are yet to make their appearance, she remarks.
Let them come. This morning I read an article Kang Sheng sent me. It was written by the three men whom you have just mentioned. Did they call themselves the Village of Three?
Yes. Was one of the articles titled "The Great Empty Words"?
He nods. It is an attack!
She tells herself to be patient. She sees the hand that is working to change her fate. She leans toward him, her voice filled with tears. Chairman, your enemies are getting ready to harm you.
He turns to her and smiles.
Unable to bear his gaze she looks away.
If there is a trade that I have mastered in my life it is that I crack people-nuts, he suddenly says. The harder the better.
I am ready to fight alongside you, Chairman.
Have you some ideas?
Yes.
Let's hear them.
She begins to describe her cultural troupes, describes the plays she has been working on. All the characters are symbolic. Although the conditions for creativity are poor-for example, actors work in their backyards and use kitchenware as props-their devotion, enthusiasm and potential are great. She tells him that she is ready to bring the troupe to Beijing to present to him.
Stay out of Beijing, he instructs. Do it in Shanghai. Talk to my friend Ke Qin-shi, the mayor of Shanghai, for production funds. He is loyal. I would go out myself to support you but it would be too obvious. Go to Ke with my message. You represent me. Get writers you trust. Call for a national denunciation and criticism of Hairui Dismissed from Office. It'll be a test balloon. If there is a response, we shall put our worry aside. But if there isn't a response, we are in trouble.
She is unable to utter another word, so happy that she feels that she must bid good-bye to hide her emotion.
He takes a drag on his cigarette and walks her to the door. Just a moment, Jiang Ching, he says and waits to have her full attention. You have complained that I have caged you. You might be right. It's been twenty-some years, hasn't it? Forgive me. I was forced to do so. I am in a tough position. At any rate, I am putting an end to it. You have paid enough. Now go out to the world and break the spell.
She throws herself on his chest.
He holds her and calms her.
In her tears dawn comes to display its extraordinariness.
The secretary tells me that Mayor Ke has come two hours earlier to wait for my arrival. It is ceremonial. It is to show his courtesy. I tell the secretary that the mayor's hospitality is appreciated.
The noiseless car takes me to number 1245 Hua-shan Road. Mayor Ke sits next to me and writes down every word I say. I send him Mao's regards and tell him that I need to find writers.
Can't Madame locate good writers in Beijing? Doesn't the imperial city attract fine intellects?
I smile. A smile that demonstrates absolute secrecy. A smile Mayor Ke reads and understands. The mayor is from peasant stock and has a head that reminds me of an onion. He is in a white cotton garment. A pair of black cotton sandals. A costume the Party cadres wear to show their revolutionary origin. Antileather shoes means anti-bourgeois. I am sure you'll produce results that will be to Mao's satisfaction, I say. I let him take his time, let him count his fingers and figure out his profit margin.
Mayor Ke asks me to answer one question. One question and that will be all. I nod. Are writers in Beijing no longer dependable?
I don't say a word.
He gets it. Gets that Mao regards Shanghai as his new base. Gets that Mao is ready to flatten Beijing.
The next morning Mayor Ke calls and says that he is sending a writer named Chun-qiao to my villa. Chun-qiao is the editor-in-chief of the newspaper Shanghai Wen-hui. He is the best I have ever known, he says.
Send Comrade Chun-qiao the Chairman's warmest hello, I say.
Two hours later Chun-qiao arrives. Welcome to Shanghai, Madame Mao. He bows to shake my hand. He is walking-stick thin and a smoker. After a few minutes of conversation I find his mind scissor-sharp.
Shanghai can do anything Madame desires. He smiles with all his teeth sprouting.
My first night in Shanghai I have difficulty sleeping. The city reminds me of how I used to eat my heart out over Tang Nah and Dan and how I longed for Junli's attention. There was not a spot of unbroken skin on my mind's body. How heroically I fought fate. My youth was a splendid bonfire with herbs of passion that smelled strongly. I have never forgotten the scent of Shanghai.
The night is bittersweet and tearful. I can't help but recall the past. My suffering. The struggle, the feeling of being entangled in my own intestines, crouching, but unable to fight back. Slowly, the dirt track of memory disappears into the flat of the horizon. I watch my sentiments burn and I scatter the ashes. I realize that if I can't live a life tending my vineyards in the sun, I have to learn to trust my own instincts. In that sense I am truly my name. Jiang Ching. Green comes out of blue but is richer than blue.
Chun-qiao proves himself to be a good choice. He has a clear sense of who I am. He treats me as Mao's equal. With the same regard he fights for my ideas, my thoughts and extends my strength. People say that he never smiles. But when he sees me he blooms like a rose. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes look like polliwogs. The pupils are never still. He tells me that I have given him a new life. I think he means a ladder to political heaven. He tells me that he has been waiting for a moment like this for many years. He is born to devote his life to a cause, to be a faithful premier to an emperor.
She appreciates Chun-qiao's commentary. Day after day his paper calls her "the red-flag bearer" and "the guardian force of Maoism." The articles list her deeds as a revolutionary and the closest assistant to Mao. Chun-qiao places his emphasis on Mao's growing opposition. "Without a guardian angel like Comrade Jiang Ching, China's future will shatter."
The drum beats. The actress warms up to her role. Setting out to influence others, she is unaware how susceptible she is to her own propaganda. She has never lacked for passion. She begins to sound her role in daily life. It becomes her style to open her speeches with these words: Sometimes I feel too weak to hold the sky of Chairman Mao, but I force myself to stand up, because to sustain Mao is to sustain China; to die for Mao is to die for China.
The more she speaks, the faster she blends into her role. Soon there is no difference. Now she can't open her mouth without mentioning that the People's Great Savior Mao is in danger. She finds the phrase binds her to the audience-the heroine risks her life for the legend. She is moved herself when she repeats the lines. Once again she is in Mao's cave; once again she feels his hands creeping up inside her shirt; and once again the passion finds its way back to her.
She grows energetic and healthy. The public's response to the media is feverish. Wherever she goes, she receives welcome and admiration. Shanghai's arts and theater circles come to embrace her. Young talents line up at her feet and beg the chance to offer their lives. Save your gift for Chairman Mao, she says. She pats their shoulders and gives them affectionate handshakes. Wasting no time, Chun-qiao develops loyalists and forms what he calls Madame Mao's Modern Red Base.
In the process of recreating herself, she studies Chun-qiao's writing and recites his lines at public rallies. In May she takes a trip back to Beijing to check on Mao.
My husband is not in. He has gone south and has disappeared in the beautiful landscape of the West Lake. When I send his secretary a telegram asking for an appointment to meet and update him with my progress, he sends me a poem about the famous lake as a reply.
Years ago I have seen the picture of this
I didn't believe such beauty existed under heaven
Today I am passing through the lake
I conclude that the picture needs work
I feel that he may finally be ready to reopen his heart to me. I can never forget the poem he sent to Fairlynn and how much it hurt me. The virgins I can forgive. Yes, I resented him, but I never hated him. Even in my worst times I never wished him overthrown. God makes strange twists. Here he is, put in front of me to be helped. I have never been superstitious until now.
We are floating on the West Lake. It is a golden autumn. Reeds are thick and the cattails are out. The dike is lined with hanging willows. Parts of the lake are covered by lotus leaves. Connected to the shore by a bridge are pavilions of various styles built throughout the dynasties. The place has intricate rocks and is surrounded with poplars, peach and apricot trees. The famous Broken Bridge is made of white marble and granite, has a thin arched beltlike body.
There is no one else but the two of us.
Mao seems absorbed by the beauty. After a while he raises his chin to feel the sun on his face.
My memories are rushing back to me. The Yenan days and earlier. I am in tears. It is not for love but for what I have endured. The way I have once again rescued myself. The triumph of my will and my refusal to give up.
Did I tell you how I first got to know the West Lake? Mao suddenly speaks, eyes focused on a faroff pavilion. It was from a painted ceramic jar of poor quality brought to me by an elderly relative who had visited the place. The print on the jar was a map of the highlights of the lake. The water, trees, pavilions, temples, bridges and galleries. They were all clearly illustrated and accompanied by elegant titles. As a country boy I had little chance to encounter pictures so I took the jar to my room and studied it. Over the years I became so familiar with the scenes that they entered my dreams. When I visited the lake later on as a grown man I felt that it was a place I knew very well. It was like reentering my old dreams.
What? Does anybody dare not to listen to Chairman Mao? Chun-qiao's voice is filled with shock.
Jiang Ching rocks her chin as her tone becomes mysterious. I have Chairman Mao's full support to counterattack. She repeats the phrase as if she enjoys hearing the sound of it.
Full support! Chun-qiao exhales and claps his hands.
Here is my analysis of the situation, Jiang Ching goes on. Hairui Dismissed from Office is the key.
Chun-qiao sits back and combs his hair with his fingers. For you, Madame Mao, I'm willing to soak my pen with the juice of my brain.
She offers her hand for him to shake and then gently whispers into his ear: Soon the seats of the Politburo will be vacant and someone has to fill them up.
I don't drink, but today I want to show that I put my life in your hands. Come on, Chun-qiao, bottoms up.
We drink mai tais. It is past midnight. Our spirits are still high. We are finalizing the details of our plan. We are picking partners for the job.
Chun-qiao suggests his disciple Yiao Wen-yuan, who is the head of the Bureau of Propaganda in Shanghai. I have been paying attention to this man. He began to show his political talent during the antirightist movement. He is known for his criticism of Ba-jin's book Humanity. He is a heavy-duty weapon. People call him "the Golden Stick." His pen has put down many unshakable figures.
Good! We need golden sticks, I reply. Iron sticks and steel sticks. Our rivals are tigers with steel teeth.
Her next meeting with Mao sets history in motion.
November 10,1965. The curtain of the epic of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution lifts. It is quiet in the beginning, like the changing of the tides. The sound pushes in from a distance. After eight months of round-the-clock preparation, Jiang Ching, Chun-qiao and Yiao complete their draft entitled "On the Play Hairui Dismissed from Office."
Mao reviews and revises the draft. A week later it appears in the Shanghai Wen-hui.
No one, from the Politburo to the congress, takes the article seriously. No one talks about it. No other paper reprints it. Like a rock thrown in a dry well, there is not a sound.
Jiang Ching enters Mao's study the nineteenth day after the publication. She tries to hide her excitement.
The resistance is obvious, she begins. Her voice is tightly controlled. It is an organized silence.
My husband turns toward the window and looks out. Zhong-nan-hai Lake is bathed in bright moonlight. The sea of trees is draped with silver rays. The shadows are velvet black. Not far in the distance, among the mists of fog, stand the pavilions of Yintai and Phoenix where every bit of grass, wood, brick and tile tells a story.
It is here Emperor Guang-xu was held hostage by the empress dowager. Mao speaks suddenly as he always does. The first vice president of the republic of China, Li Hong-yuan, was under house arrest on the same spot. Do you think they would dare?
We are all set to go, Chairman. Your health is the nation's fortune.
Have you printed the article as a handbook? Mao asks.
I have, but the bookstores in Beijing are uninterested. Only three thousand copies have been reluctantly stocked-compared to Vice Chairman Liu's On a Communist's Self-Cultivation, which has sold six million.
Did you relay the situation to the head of the Cultural Bureau, Lu Din-yi?
I did. His comment was "It is an academic issue."
Mao gets up and spits tea leaves from his mouth. Down with the Cultural Bureau and the Beijing City Committee! Let's stir the country. Tell the masses to shake the enemy's boats. The revolution must be renewed.
Your order has been placed.
The first couple of China utilize their power to its full capacity. Through the media Mao launches the movement. Let the Cultural Revolution he a soul-purifying process, the papers quote Mao. The old order has to he abandoned. A foot worker should be able to enter an opera hall free of charge; a sick son of a peasant should receive the same medical care as his provincial governor; an orphan should be able to obtain the highest education; and elders, the handicapped and the disabled should receive free public health care.
In a few months, creating chaos becomes a way of life. Looting is not only encouraged, but called an act to "help one depart from evil seduction." To follow Mao's teaching becomes a ritual practice, a new religion. In Madame Mao's twenty-four-hour propaganda there is nothing left of Mao but Buddha himself.
Behind the thick walls of the Forbidden City, Mao designs slogans to inspire the masses. Like an emperor he issues edicts. Today, "Everyone is equal in front of the truth," and tomorrow, "Welcome the soldiers to take over the leadership of the schools." The governors and mayors-especially the mayor of Beijing, Peng Zhen, and the head of the Cultural Bureau, Lu Din-yi, are disoriented. Yet Mao forces them to lead in the name of the Politburo. In the meantime, Kang Sheng is assigned by Mao to monitor the mayor's performance.
Jiang Ching is sent to "go around and light fires."
You can afford to make messes, Kang Sheng tells her. If something goes wrong, Mao will always back you up. My situation is different. I have no one to back me up. I must be careful.
There is resistance. It comes from Vice Chairman Liu and his friend Vice Premier Deng Xiao-ping. If Mao has always considered Liu a rival, he considers Deng a valuable talent. Mao once said that Deng's "little bottle" is filled with amazing things. Educated in France Deng tasted capitalism and loved it. The man talks little but acts big. He stands by Vice Chairman Liu in supporting the capitalistic programs. On February 5, a cold day, he and Liu decide to hold a Politburo meeting to discuss the mayor of Beijing Peng Zhen's urgent paper "The Report."
The point of the paper is to clarify the confusion that Madame Mao's "On the Play Hairui Dismissed from Office" has caused. The goal is to narrow the criticism into an academic zone, says Peng. By the end of the meeting Peng asks Liu and Deng Xiaoping to cosign a letter in support of "The Report." The next day both the letter and the paper are submitted to Mao.
My husband expresses no objection to "The Report." In fact, he never allows himself to get into a position where he must give a black or white answer. Mao understands that a rejection would mean rejecting ninety percent of his cabinet members. Mao lives to play the savior, not the executioner.
In the future Mao will always be remembered for his good deeds. For example, the widespread story of his attendance at Marshal Chen Yi's funeral in 1975. That he arrived in his pajamas demonstrated how he hurried to get there. The viewers were led to believe in the sincerity of Mao's sorrow. Nevertheless, the truth is that Mao could have saved the marshal's life by uttering a simple "no" to stop the Red Guards from torturing him to death.
This is not to say that I have reservations about my husband's tactics. I am with him. He is a great man, a visionary, who dreams a great dream for his nation. The goal of revolution is paradise. I have always understood that "Revolution is one class overthrowing the other by violent action"-we have all put our lives on the line.
The game continues. Mao is set to sweep his opposition. At the Party gatherings, Mao smiles and chats with Liu and Deng. He asks about their families and jokes about Deng's habit of playing poker. Mao has the ability to verbally disarm, to charm and to make his victims abandon their suspicions until they become an open door. Then he strikes.
The mayor of Beijing, Peng Zhen, is thrilled that Chairman Mao has no comments on "The Report." He assumes that he has Mao's support. The news puts Vice Chairman Liu and Deng Xiao-ping at ease.
I know my husband. He might pretend to be ill and withdrawn, but he'll come back and take his enemy by storm. It is what he is doing now. Planning the battle, rearranging his chessboard. He believes that the future of China is at stake. He believes that he is dealing with a coup d'état, that his army is rebelling. He believes that he has the allegiance of only one force from the northern provinces, led by the sickly Marshal Lin.
For years Lin has played all kinds of tricks in order to win Mao's favor. About his behavior, his colleague Marshal Luo Reiqing is not only disgusted but criticizes him as a hypocrite.
I have come to know Lin through Kang Sheng. Kang Sheng says that Lin Biao is a bride who has been waiting for her wedding day all her life, and now she has gotten the ring.
I visit the Lin family. I mention Marshal Luo. I say Luo is now our shared enemy.
What's your story? asks Lin.
I'd like to have an official position in the Party. I thought Marshal Luo was my husband's close friend and might be willing to lend me a hand. I'd like to get the army to participate in the Cultural Revolution.
What happened?
Marshal Luo turned me down. I am too embarrassed to describe the details-he wouldn't even let me take a uniform!
You don't have to go on, Madame Mao. I know what to do about it. Why don't you come to my headquarters and open a seminar?
February 20, 1966. In a brand-new uniform, Madame Mao Jiang Ching delivers a speech against "The Report." It is the first time in her life she holds a meeting attended by the heads of state and men of the armed forces. She experiences stage fright. But she is confident. Afterwards she informs Mao of what she has done. He congratulates her.
From then on Lin Biao and Madame Mao Jiang Ching visit each other frequently. They form an alliance to help get rid of each other's enemies.
After my speech Lin's headquarters produces a booklet. It is entitled The Summary of Discussions Held by Comrade Jiang Ching and Sponsored by Comrade Lin Biao. It is the text of my speech. The subtitle is On the Role of the Arts in the Army. In short, The Summary.
Comrade Jiang Ching is the model member of our Party, Marshal Lin's hand printing reads on the cover page. She has made tremendous contributions and sacrifices for our country. The Cultural Revolution has provided an opportunity for her to demonstrate leadership. She shines as a political talent.
Mao is pleased with The Summary. I have claimed Maoism to be the greatest and only theory of the Chinese Communist Party.
In the next four weeks Mao calls me four times to personally revise The Summary. In April Mao issues an order to make The Summary the handbook of every member of the Communist Party.
I touch you with these hands, I put them on your burning cheeks so they will be cool.
I look in the mirror and embrace myself for what I have gone through. Taking off my glasses I see a pair of swollen eyes.
I've made you weep, I've made you love and I've made you cartwheel on the tips of knives. You were a winter fan, a summer stove-no one desired you. But now your time has come.
My new role helps me understand happiness in a different light. It is beyond lust and companionship, beyond the ordinary notion of love. I have run the earth out in wildness and know that every human being in essence is alone. I have decided to push aside silence and answer music. I have made myself an exuberant fountain.
In my heart's land the gold summer's fierce sun is thrusting through the leaves.
Can you see lily stems stand green and tall and bees collect nectar from an endless line of clover?
On March 28 Mao hosts a secret meeting in his study. The only attendants are Jiang Ching, Kang Sheng and Chun-qiao. Mao calls it a Politburo meeting although its official members, Vice Chairman Liu, Premier Zhou, Commander in Chief Zhu De, Vice Premier Chen Yun and Deng, are excluded.
The meeting lasts three full days. Mao points out that Mayor Peng's report has failed to carry out the principles of Communism. It's time to rebel, Mao instructs. The old Politburo no longer works for the revolution. Down with the Cultural Bureau and the Mayor's Committee of Beijing. Let's send the devils to hell and liberate the ghosts!
Mao turns to Chun-qiao and asks how long it will take to arrange articles of criticism against "The Report."
April 2 and 5, Chun-qiao replies.
In People's Daily and The Red Flag?
Yes, it shall serve to launch a nationwide attack.
Just as Mao used to in battle he assigns Kang Sheng as a backup force. Make sure to get rid of any dog who dares to block the way.
After the meeting they are exhausted. She observes him quietly. He sits in the rattan chair and rests his head against its back. Tears come to her eyes. She feels the leaping of time. She remembers the moment when he sat in the same pose contemplating the conquest of China. She is so in love with him that she breathes carefully, fearing to disturb his thoughts.
She quietly goes through the notes of the meeting. The silence in the room delights her. She knows that he is comfortable with her. The way they used to be with each other in Yenan. The contentment, the togetherness.
Let's take a walk in the Summer Palace, he suddenly says and gets up.
She follows him without a word. She notices that he is wearing a pair of new leather shoes. She remembers that he hates new shoes. She asks if he wants to change into cotton sandals.
They don't hurt, he explains. Little Dragon has been my walking-shoe stretcher.
The Hall of Pines used to be a large courtyard of ancient trees. There are archways on its east, west and north sides. Also exquisitely carved pillar stones. The couple walks slowly through the trees. They are now on the central imperial path running parallel to a lake. It is the path on which Emperor Hsien Feng and Empress Tzu Hsi used to stroll. The path is narrow and is shaded by tall cypresses.
She follows his footsteps. After a mile the Glazed Tile Pagoda of Many Treasures comes into view. The pagoda is a seven-story, eight-sided building more than fifty feet high. It is inlaid from top to bottom with glazed bricks of blue, green and yellow. Multiple carvings of Buddha embellish the brickwork. The pagoda rests on a white stone platform and is crowned with a gilded pinnacle.
There is a melodious sound in the wind. Mao looks up. From the top of the pagoda hang bronze bells. She comes to his side. Wiping her damp forehead she praises his good health. He makes no comment and enters the pagoda. He doesn't pause as he passes a stone tablet on which is carved ODE TO THE IMPERIALLY BUILT PAGODA OF MANY TREASURES OF LONGEVITY HILL. The characters are in Chinese, Manchu, Mongolian and Tibetan. He comes to a stop before the statues of the Buddha.
I have come here twice already this month, he suddenly says. I have come to see if I can channel an understanding between the builder of this pagoda and myself.
His voice is low and she can barely hear him. But she says nothing.
He continues. My question is, Why did the man install over nine hundred statues of Buddha on the face of this tiny temple? What motivated him? What kind of madness? Was he panic-stricken? What was chasing him? It is a dangerous spot in which to work. He could fall any time. He might have fallen just so. Why? It seems to me Buddha was his protection-the more he built the better he thought himself protected. He must have been chased by this idea. He must have been breathless in this race with himself.
She suddenly senses that Mao is speaking of himself. About his position in the Politburo. The enemies he faces. He is in fear.
Chairman! she calls. I am with you heading to heaven or hell!
He turns toward her, his eyes filled with gentleness.
She feels that she is recognized the way she used to be recognized thirty years ago in the cave of Yenan. She hears her own voice once again proclaiming love between the dropping of bombs.
In her dedication he once again recognizes himself as a hero. Slowly his gaze diffuses. His voice becomes low. I wish that it was all just in my head. An old fart, paranoid for no reason. I wish that it were just the popping of my teeth I'm upset about. You won't believe that I clapped this morning when I made a smooth shit. A stupid thing, yet it controls my mood. I am losing my sight too, Jiang Ching. Now please tell me that what I feel isn't true-that I am old and I am going down the imperial drain.
She feels for him but is not unhappy. The truth is that his fear has made him see her. She needs to have the danger continue in order to be able to stay in his view.
Lead me to the fire! she says to him. Give me a chance to demonstrate how much I can and will do for love.
He reaches for her.
Once again she feels the presence of Lady Yuji. The worship comes back and charges itself. She reenters the scene. The lovers walk around the eight sides of Buddha statues surveying the nine hundred blue, green and yellow gods. The lovers are no longer in each other's arms and their lips do not caress, but they speak and begin to hear each other. They are taking turns describing the numberless beasts around them, obscure workers of the land, terrible innocents, killers and their dreams, the gigantic swarming of bees, the way they silently mate and murder.
Oh, heaven knows how much I feel for you! she cries in a theatrical voice. The line is stylish and self-moving. Command me, Chairman, here is my sword.
No more operating solo. No more living life in splendid isolation. My body has never felt so youthful. On April 9, I am bored listening to Mayor Peng Zhen's nonsubstantial self-criticisms. I leave the matter to Kang Sheng and Chen Bo-da, a critic executioner whom I recently recruited, and who is also the director of the Institute of Marxism and Leninism in Beijing. I send a report prepared by Chen Bo-da on Peng Zheng entitled "The 5.16 Notification" to Mao. By now I sense that Mao has set his mind on bringing down Vice Chairman Liu-punishing Mayor Peng, Liu's front man, is Mao's first step.
As expected, Mao comments on the report and orders the battle to be fought publicly.
May 4. A meeting finalizing Mayor Peng's fall takes place. The host is not Mao, but Vice Chairman Liu. Liu is given no option. He is incapable of bringing himself to rebel against Mao. At the meeting Liu looks pale. He takes deep breaths when he delivers the speech denouncing his friend. He reads in the name of the Politburo. He can barely sustain his performance. Peng has been a faithful employee and an ardent supporter of his programs.
Vice Chairman Liu never dreams that he will be the next. If he had spent time reading The Romance of the Three Kingdoms as Mao had, he might have anticipated his leader's plans.
To please Mao, on May 8, under the pen name Gao Ju-High Torch-I published an article entitled "Toward the Anti-Communist Party Group: Fire!" It is my first publication in thirty years. The article becomes the talk of the nation. Shouts of To guard Chairman Mao with our lives! are heard everywhere.
It is the night of May 9. I am losing sleep to joy. I have taken fate into my own hands and am rewarded. Mao phoned this morning to congratulate me. He wanted me to have a pack of his ginseng. The phone rang again in the afternoon. It was Mao's secretary. Mao wanted me to come for dinner. Nah is home, the message said.
I have nothing to wear, I said.
The secretary was confused. Does that mean "no"?
Sitting in my chair I feel my body shiver. He wants me, finally. All the years of resentment dissolve in one phone call. Am I crazy? Is he fooling me again? Or is it nothing but part of his aging? Or am I daydreaming? He has not stopped his longevity practice and continues to sleep with young girls; and yet he wants to reconnect with me. And he wants it badly.
Sometimes I feel that I know him well enough to forgive him-he is driven not by passion or lust or even his great love of country, but fear. Other times I feel that he has always been a stranger to me. An aloof, emotionally disconnected being like myself. He has never paid a single visit to his ex-wife Zi-zhen, or to his mentally disturbed second son Anqing in their hospitals. Just like me with my mother-I have never tried to find out what became of her.
Mao doesn't talk about the Korean War. It is to avoid his pain of missing Anying, his older son, who died from an American bomb. Mao has never recovered from Anying's death. Madame Mao Jiang Ching knows that Anying is always on his mind at moments of celebration, especially during Chinese New Years. Mao never accepts invitations to visit his friends or associates. It is because he can't stand the warmth of families. He says that he is an antitradition man. It is because everything traditional weaves around the family.
How can Mao not feel the loss or have sympathy toward pain and separation when he is such a passionate poet? One can only guess that his pain over the years has changed or, a more precise word, distorted his character. His longing for his losses gradually turns into envy of others' gain. Why does Vice Chairman Liu have all that he hasn't? Mao knows that he is by nature fragile and that to learn to be a stone-Buddha is his only way to survive. He takes tragedy in his life as his body's ulcer-he just has to live with it. Yet he is frustrated that he has no power to cure his pain. He doesn't understand that he owes himself compassion. He has taught himself to recognize no such word in his emotional dictionary.
It is after dinner. We are relaxing around the table having tea. Nah begs that we not talk about business, a request I must turn down. I count on the time I spend with Mao, because he may change his mind tomorrow. I have trained myself to always be prepared for the worst.
Nah dashes out of the room. Where are you going? I yell. Don't tell me you are going to waste time on knitting. Did you call the people I asked you to call for me? Answer me! You are sixteen years old, not six!
Leave her alone, her father says. He has had some wine and is in a good mood. He is in his usual pajamas and wears socks without sandals. The room is heated but still feels cold and empty. It doesn't seem like a home. It is more like a war headquarters with books, cigarette butts, towels and mugs lying carelessly around. He is comfortable with this on-the-move style. The walls are bare. I can't tell their original color. The color of dust. The floor is made of large gray-blue bricks. I once suggested that he install a wooden floor but he didn't want to bother. He still uses a mosquito net in the summer. His staff made one as big as a circus tent.
I have an important task for you, he says and puts down his tea.
My eyes widen and my lips tremble in excitement.
I have discussed with Kang Sheng that you will be the best candidate to take command on the ideology side of my business. What do you think?
For you, Mao Tse-tung, if your bomb misses a fuse I'll lay down my body.
May 16, after revising "The 5.16 Notification" seven times, Mao puts down his signature and entitles the document "The Manual of the Cultural Revolution." As it goes to press, Mao establishes a new cabinet apart from the existing Politburo. He calls it the Headquarters of the Cultural Revolution with himself as the chief, Jiang Ching as his right-hand person and Kang Sheng, Chen Bo-da and Chun-qiao as his key advisors.
From that moment on China is run by Madame Mao Jiang Ching with Mao behind her every move.