Becoming Madame Mao Read online

  Yes, I was bored to tears, but I made myself stay. I memorized the character's every aria and every word. It is not that I am so wise that I can predict what will happen next. What I do know is that if one wants to get a boat ride, one must be near the river.

  The leading lady has the flu. Sick as she is, she doesn't want to leave the show. For days she drags herself through the play. It is Monday evening and it is rainy and wet. The actress is on the verge of collapsing. After peeping through the curtain at the small crowd she asks for the night off. The stage manager is furious with such short notice. The actress calls up a rickshaw and leaves the theater. It is seven o'clock. Fifteen minutes to curtain time. In the makeup room the stage manager paces in circles like a dog chasing its own tail. When the curtain bell rings he punches his fist into the makeup room mirror.

  In the broken mirror Yunhe's face appears. Fully made up and dressed for the role.

  I am ready to carry on the show, the girl says. I have been ready. Please, sir, give me a chance.

  Thy white face doth powder spurn ... The manager recites an aria from the middle of the play.

  Vermilion must yet from thy lips learn. Yunhe opens her mouth with a full voice. Flesh of snow, bones of jade, dream thy dreams, peerless one, not for this world thou art made.

  When the curtain ascends I am my role. Oh, how fantastic I feel! My cheeks are hot and I move about the stage at ease. I am born for this. I let myself flow, be led by the spirit of the character. The audience is mine. A shout comes when my character is about to end her life for love. Take me with you! I hear. Take me with you! The rest of the audience follows. And then there is the sob, the whole theater. It sounds like an incredible tide. Wave after wave. Sky high. Vast, wrapping my ears.

  The performance is a success. It turns out to be the best opportunity I could ever hope for—Mr. Zhao Taimo and a group of critics he had invited to review the show are among the audience. He didn't call in advance to make reservations because he was aware that the show had been slow and that seats would not be a problem.

  Yunhe's tears pour uncontrollably. The heroine finally wins her lover's affection. But her tears are not for her character. They are for herself, her victory, that she had outshone her rival, that she can no longer be ignored. And that she had single-handedly made all this happen herself.

  Backstage, as she is being helped to remove her makeup and costume, she breaks down again. The sob comes so suddenly, with such an overwhelming impact, that she grabs the door and dashes out.

  ***

  The year is 1930. Right after her first appearance on the stage, the theater is shut down. And then the troupe and the school. The reasons are lack of funds and political instability. Unable to pay its debts, China submits itself to deeper and wider foreign penetration. The infighting between warlords has exhausted the peasants and months of drought have devastated the landscape. By the time Yunhe decides to pack up, everybody else has already left. It is like a forest on fire where all the animals run for their lives.

  The girl has no money to flee and she doesn't want to go back to her grandparents. Her mother has never tried to find her. She doesn't let herself miss her, especially in these moments, moments when she needs a place to go and a familiar face to turn to. She despises herself when she feels weak and helpless. She pinches the little-girl-crying-for-help voice inside her, pinches it as if it were her worst enemy. She keeps pinching until the pitiful voice turns into ice drops and forms a hard crystal. A crystal that never melts.

  I sell all my belongings and buy a train ticket to Beijing. I look for acting jobs. I have to try. But the city is cold to me. Wherever I go, my Shan-dong-accented Mandarin brings laughs. None of my auditions ring back. Two months later, I am completely broke. No one wants to lend me money. No one believes that I will ever have a future as an actress. It doesn't bother me at the beginning. But when I am cold and hungry, I begin to doubt myself.

  The girl comes back from Beijing and consents to her grandparents' wish—she will marry. She is seventeen. The husband's name is Fei, a fan of hers when she played The Incident on the Lake. He is a small-business man. Later on in her life, she never mentions her marriage to Mr. Fei. She refuses to recall the face of the man. To her, he happened to be a rock in the middle of the river in which she was drowning. She reached for the rock and pulled herself up.

  But at the wedding ceremony she is obedient. She is carried on a sedan chair and wrapped in red silk like a New Year's present. It is to satisfy her parents-in-law. They are not smiling. Yunhe suspects that her grandfather has paid money to have Mr. Fei propose.

  Now she is on her own as a wife and a daughter-in-law. She feels strange and unprepared for the role. The first night is awful. The man claims his territory. She thinks of herself as an animal on a slaughtering table. His expression reminds her of a goat after a satisfying chew of grass. His jaw moves from side to side. Blood seeps from between her legs. She is resentful and disgusted.

  I had dreamed of falling in love as in the operas. I expected my new husband to be intelligent and caring. I expected that we would court like butterflies in spring. I expected to feel for him. But my chances are taken away unasked. Mr. Fei is on my face every night ripping away every thread of my beautifully embroidered dream.

  I weep in the middle of his act. How different am I from the prostitutes on the streets? It: makes me think that. I have wronged my mother. I have always thought that she had done something wrong to mess up her life. Now I understand that a girl can do everything right and her life will still be a mess.

  Now the girl has a place to stay and a man to pay her bills. Her energy resumes. She is ready to take charge of her life again. She doesn't consult her husband. She thinks of him as a prop in her real-life show.

  The in-laws' complaint becomes her excuse. I am not going to stay where your mother wants to have my feet bound again, she says. The husband comes in between the women and tries to negotiate. No deal. His wife can't wait to be divorced. He can't outsmart her. Nothing will satisfy her until she is released.

  Mr. Fei sits down and takes out his abacus. He calculates and decides that he doesn't want to invest more in a business of no profit.

  ***

  With some money in her pocket the girl is on the run again. She never mentions the husband to anyone. Later in life she denies that the marriage ever existed. As the woman who will lead China after Mao, she must be a goddess. Having too many husbands on record will impede her path to power.

  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 Sha
n 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 wa
nt 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?