Gradually the nature of the event changes. Doubts grow heavy. The details, dates, hours, minutes are being questioned, compared and analyzed. Demands for an explanation grow more insistent. She is falling into a trap, set by her own previous fabrication. Her story begins to contradict itself. The holes in her lies begin to reveal themselves. She is cornered.
Her face turns red, veins on her neck popping blue. She looks horrified and turns to Kang Sheng, her eyes begging for help.
On cue the master actor breaks into the scene.
The Central Bureau of Security has already investigated the matter, Kang Sheng begins. The conclusion is positive-Comrade Jiang Ching's strength has been tested. It is proven truth that she has been loyal to the Party. She has done tremendous work for the revolution. She has risked her life.
Kang Sheng lights a cigarette. With a straight face he paints a picture of a Communist goddess. Finally he throws the ball to the crowd. How would you explain Comrade Jiang Ching's action in leaving behind the city of luxury and pleasure, Shanghai, for hardships in Yenan? If it is not her faith in Communism, then what is it?
The goat-beard man pauses, looks around and is pleased with his effectiveness-the way he confuses. To tighten the screw, he gives a final twist. Therefore, to trust the result of the Party's investigation is to trust Comrade Jiang Ching. To trust Comrade Jiang Ching is to trust the Party and Communism itself. Any doubts based upon assumptions abuse an individual's rights, which would be a reactionary act and evidence of right-wing activity, implying sympathy with Wang Ming's gang and the ultimate enemy.
The lips are clamped and the voices are silenced. The interrogation stops. I am sure this will get me through this crisis, although not necessarily the next. There are questions hanging on those people's faces. Why is Kang Sheng aggressive and merciless in handling other cases while spoiling this one?
Kang Sheng intimidates and never worries about how anyone thinks of him except Mao. And Mao keeps promoting him. In her marriage she discovers that only when she follows Kang Sheng's advice does she succeed. Kang Sheng is her education.
In the future there will be one secret Madame Mao and Kang Sheng never discuss but share knowingly. It is what makes them partners, rivals and enemies at the same time. Count every member of the Communist Party-no one has ever dared to think about surpassing Mao and taking over China but Kang Sheng and Jiang Ching.
Chiang Kai-shek's military equipment is supplied by Americans and is the most advanced in the world. Mao, on the other hand, works with primitive weapons. It is the end of World War II and the beginning of China's civil war. On the international front, Stalin has proposed a negotiation between Mao and Chiang Kai-shek. For Stalin, a united China is more powerful. Stalin sees China as a potential ally with which to oppose the Americans. To show broad-mindedness, my husband takes the risk and accepts Chiang's invitation to Chong-Qin-the capital city of Chiang's government-for a peace talk. Although his colleagues and aides suspect a conspiracy, my husband insists on going.
Midsummer Chong-Qin is a bathhouse. With an American diplomat as a host, Mao Tse-tung and Chiang Kai-shek shake hands in front of the cameras. Next they perform an agreement-signing ceremony. Mao is in his shapeless white cotton uniform while Chiang is in a starched Western-inspired suit with rows of medals glistening over his shoulders and across his chest.
There will not be two suns shining above the sky of China, Mao says to me on our flight back to Yenan. He sees civil war as unavoidable. I tell him that I admire his bravery. He says, Darling, it is the fear, the blindness toward death that drives me to win.
Angry, Chiang Kai-shek begins to drop his bombs over our roof again. Mao orders the famous Yenan evacuation. The Red Army soldiers and peasants are mobilized to move into remote mountain areas. Mao refuses to see anyone who complains about the abandonment of their homeland. To turn people away he invites Fairlynn to the cave for a discussion and chat.
My husband has been meeting with Fairlynn since the early morning. They chat from politics to literature, from ancient bronze to poetry. Bowl to bowl and pack to pack, the two toast in rice wine and smoke cigarettes. The room is a chimney.
After I put Nah to sleep I come out, making my presence a protest against the intruder. I sit next to my husband.
Fairlynn's spirit is fueled by alcohol. Under Mao's encouragement she is argumentative. She scratches her hair with her fingers. Her Shakespeare hairdo is now a bird's-nest. Her eyes are bloody red. She laughs with all her teeth showing.
Inhaling, Mao stretches out his legs, crossing one foot over another.
The history of China is the history of yin, he argues loudly as he pushes the ashtray toward Fairlynn. He then pushes his tea mug. He likes to share tea with women. He did it with Kai-hui, Zi-zhen, Jiang Ching and now Fairlynn. He adds water to the mug, then goes on. Our ancestors invented ammunition to use only for festival decorations. Our fathers smoked opium to avoid thinking. Our nation has been poisoned by Confucius's theories. We have been raped by the nations who are strong in yang. "Raped" is the precise word! Mao's fist punches the table. A few peanuts fall on the ground.
Chairman, I don't mean to challenge you. Fairlynn picks up the dropped peanuts. In your writings there is a sense of praising the war itself. I found that extremely interesting, or may I say disturbing? You praised violence itself. You believe in martial law. Your true purpose is to kill the yin element in the Chinese, am I right?
Mao nods.
So you kill, Fairlynn presses.
I kill to heal.
Fairlynn shakes her head. Chairman, you are making us the prisoners of your thinking house. You make us bite and chew on each other's flesh in order to exercise your ideal yang. Am I allowed to say that you're crazy to give our minds no pleasure to wonder and experience?…Sir, you're stir-frying an overnight dish-you are nothing original-you're copying Hitler!
If this wakes up the nation, I'll bear the shame! Mao pitches his voice like an opera character.
Mao! You are the most outrageous individualist I have ever met. You are fascinated by yourself! But what about the rest? What about their right to be as individualistic as you are? The great thinkers, journalists, novelists, artists, poets and actors?
Comrade Fairlynn, you have been poisoned. Mao laughs confidently. The westerners think that the authors and artists are supermen, but they are only men with animal instincts. The best of them are men with mental illnesses. Their nature is to sell tricks! How can you regard them so religiously? You must have spent a lot for this pair of artificial frog-eyes. Poor thing, you have been robbed!
Two o'clock in the morning and I see no end to the discussion. Mao and Fairlynn are on their third jar of wine. The subject has turned to beauty.
You are not unlike any other male creature on this earth. Look at Comrade Jiang Ching! Beauty of the red base! Mao, I thought you were not one of the Shakespearean characters. But look at what you are doing! You are stuffing Marxism into a flashlight-using it only to examine the others. Don't embarrass me with your so-called knowledge of Western literature. You remind me of the frog who lives in the bottom of a well who thinks the sky is only as big as the ring. You're selling your hot-pepper tricks to illiterate peasants. You are making yourself a fool in front of me. Yes, yes, yes. Sometimes I do think your writings on morality are a joke. After I read them, they lie on the floor of my mind in complete disarray and disorder!