Yunhe is scared. Yu Qiwei had a rich uncle to bail him out and she doesn't. She feels sick. She is sure that the woman who keeps coughing has tuberculosis. The blood-streaked spit is everywhere.
Two weeks pass. Two weeks of terrible sleep. Two weeks of living in terror, knowing that her head might be removed from her shoulders at any given moment. Where is the Party? There has been no sign of rescue.
Finally it is her turn. The interrogator is a man whose face is a mask of scars. He has a massive upper body and tiny legs. Before questioning he soaks her head in a bucket of hot-pepper water.
Yunhe shuts her eyes and endures. She confesses nothing. Back in her cell she witnesses the death of a cellmate. The body is dragged out to be fed to wild dogs.
At her next interrogation, Yunhe seems to be having a nervous breakdown. She laughs hysterically and lets saliva drip from the corner of her mouth.
It's my fifteenth day in prison. I am very sick, running a high fever. I pick up my trade and begin to play the convincing role of an innocent. I sing classic operas. The entire opera from beginning to end. It is for the guards.
The autumn moon is half round above Omei Mountain
Its pale light falls in and flows with the water of the Pingchang River
In the night I leave Chingchi of the limpid stream for the three canyons
And glide down past Yucbow, thinking of you whom I cannot see
The guards feel sorry for me. They begin to respond. One suggests to his supervisor that I seem to have nothing to do with the Communists.
Yes, sir, I reply at the interrogation. I am lured by evil people.
The girl is told that she can be released under a condition: she must sign a piece of paper denouncing Communism. She hesitates but convinces herself to proceed. I'm just playing a trick with the enemy.
I have never lowered my head to an enemy, Madame Mao later says. I have never dishonored the Communist Party. The truth is that she never admits she signed the paper. Her claim is consistent for the rest of her life. People who doubt her words are put in prison.
5
TO HER COMRADES YUNHE SAYS that her release from prison was pure luck. She claims that because she had left no evidence, she was merely considered a suspect from the beginning to the end of the case. It had to do with my strong will-I could have confessed under torture, but my commitment to Communism won me victory.
In truth she knows that she has betrayed the oath. She justifies this by thinking that she is more useful to Communism alive than as a martyr.
After signing the paper, she is released. The first couple of days back in her apartment she tosses all night. She sees images of dogs attacking her cellmates. The screams from the torture chamber haunt her thoughts. After midnight she gets up and gathers together her books and magazines. She walks downstairs and throws them in the dump. During the day she avoids streets where Communist leaflets are posted. She no longer communicates with Communist friends. She finds the house noises endearing again. The sound of the husband and wife fighting next door keeps her nightmares at bay. The neighbor boy's piano becomes music from heaven. She doesn't mind the smell of burnt soy sauce from the kitchen. She lies in bed all day and she still misses Yu Qiwei.
I decide to change my name. A new name symbolizes new life. I want the name to ring my character too. Besides, changing one's name is fashionable in Shanghai. It helps one to get noticed. Some people cut out their last name so that there are two syllables instead of the traditional three. This is considered an act of rebellion. The sounds stand out by themselves. There are names that have inspired me, especially those of established writers and actresses. They are Bing-xing for Ice Heart, Xiao-yue for Smiling Moon, and Hu-dee for Butterfly.
I name myself Lan Ping. Lan means Blue, my favorite color, and Ping means Apple and sweetness. Blue associates with the images of sky, ink and myth, while Apple evokes the idea of harvest, ripeness, fruitful future and also my hometown Shan-dong, where apples are the trademark export product.
After my recuperation from prison, I start to branch out. I reconnect myself with old friends for acting opportunities. I tell people that I am committed to helping the country. A good play promotes the nation's conscience and this is what's important.
I put my will to the test. I wear my biggest smile. To take care of my blue dress I wear an old jacket. That way I feel free to push my way through crowded buses. I take the blue dress with me and change before my meetings. I change back to my old jacket after the meeting. Because my empty stomach often growls in the middle of meetings I drink a lot of water. I have to hide my feet, because they swell from walking too much.
But still there are more rejections. Everyone tells me that I am good yet I receive no offers. Many girls in the same situation give in. They go to bed with the leering men who call themselves directors or producers. I tell myself over and over that I cannot give up.
In June the girl discovers that there is an audition for an interpretive rendition of Ibsen's Doll's House. The director is Mr. Zhang Min, a Russian-trained theater master. She is excited the moment she hears the news. She had read Ibsen's play so many times back in school and has already memorized most of Nora's lines. Although she is aware that she has very little chance to win the role, she tells herself to try. If nothing else comes out of it, she will make an impression. She will get to meet director Zhang Min.
She registers for the audition and begins to prepare the part. She invites her neighbors to come and hear her while their soups are on the stove. She gets the ladies little stools to sit on so that they can listen to her while cutting beans and carrots.
The day of the audition she gets up early and puts on light makeup. She feels confident and comfortable. The first to arrive at the Arts Club where the audition is to take place, she chats with the doorman and finds out that there have already been three days of auditions.
The good news is that Mr. Zhang Min is still looking. The doorman winks and puts his palms together to wish the girl luck.
By nine o'clock the room is packed with young women. The director's assistants come in and begin to set up tables and chairs. After the stage is set Zhang Min appears. He already seems bored. He orders the audition to begin immediately.
While waiting for her turn, Lan Ping takes a close look at the director. He is a soft-spoken man who wears a black cotton jacket and a black French beret. He smokes a cigarette and holds a tea mug in his hand. His assistant calls the contestants by their numbers. He looks at them without expression.
The young women do everything to overcome their stage fright. One girl takes deep breaths while the others massage their throats. Lan Ping waits with her heart beating fast. She is not as nervous as she thought she would be. She reflects on her time in jail. What can be more frightening? She smiles.
Mr. Zhang Min notices the difference. With his thumb supporting his chin he leans forward and begins to watch the girl. He keeps the same pose from the beginning to the end of Lan Ping's performance. He doesn't say anything afterwards. From the way he looks at her Lan Ping knows that she has made an impression. Before she leaves the room Zhang Min gets up and waves. I want to see you do that part again.