In less than two days the cameras begin to roll. Within a month, half of the film is completed. Never again is there mention of faction conflicts. People work together as if operating a big family business. At the end of the day the exposed cans are sent to the lab to be processed and the next day the cuts are roughly edited and available to view.
Thrilled, Madame Mao inspects the set. She pats the shoulder of Commander Dee and praises his efficiency. If only I could get this kind of efficiency for all my projects! She begins to think about hiring Commander Dee for more jobs.
Don't confuse yourself. Mao holds his swollen cheek and speaks with irritation. You are not who you believe you are. The truth is that no one will take your orders if they don't see my shadow! When the air force commander in chief Wu Fa-xian answers your call his eyes are on the chair where I am sitting. When the Red Guards shout at the top of their voice A salute to Comrade Jiang Ching! it is I they want to please.
I understand, Chairman. I try hard to sound humble and non-argumentative. Please don't doubt that I have committed my life to helping you. And only you. I put my faith in my ability to get things done. Let me tell you about my recent creations. Let me show you the film cuts of the operas and ballets.
The operas are all right, Mao says. He picks up a hot towel from a steaming jar and places it against the swollen cheek. I am pleased with your work. The shows sound good. But don't ride them like a magic carpet. And this is my warning.
At this point he loses me. But I dare not mention my confusion. There are a lot of things we confuse each other with lately. We don't clarify. It is to keep peace. Probably confusion is better. I tell the public that I represent Mao but I am not in his life. I have no idea what his days are like. I don't enjoy chasing his mistress and I don't like the fact that he takes pleasure in intimidating me. He has been telling me how his commanders (and he won't spell out the names) would love to suffocate me in my own bed. It's tiring just to keep up with his imagination. Especially when he plays god and devil at the same time. Besides, he hates to be figured out.
The early spring is still chilly. In the morning the frost coats the Forbidden City white. This evening outside the window the vine frames shake violently. A storm has come-the winter's unwillingness to depart. Yet who can stop the spring from coming? After midnight, heavy clouds are swept from the sky. The moon is once again bare. The branches beat my windows like the knocks of spirits.
I don't know until Kang Sheng tells me later what happened on the night of the storm. April 30, 1967. Just before the clouds left the sky, Mao invited the old boys he had attacked previously to his study for a drink. He entertained them with deep-fried bear feet. He acted as if nothing had happened since February 18.
No wonder I was surprised to see all these old sticks show up happily at the celebration party on May 1 at the National Cultural Palace. I should have known that my husband was doing the two-faced trick. I should have understood that although Mao had been promoting me, my new power unnerves him and he needs to have another force to balance the game.
19
SHE GOES ON, LAUNCHING HERSELF aggressively into the future. On the surface she is the manager of Mao's powerhouse and she imagines herself above suffering like her opera heroines. But underneath there is no coming to terms with her feelings-she is exhilarated by her role, but also exhausted and nagged by doubt. Sometimes her love for Mao seems like desperation, sometimes like hate. And her sorrow about Nah has refused to go away. If she let herself, she could slip into depression. Every day she feels her character rot a bit. Last night, as she lay in bed, a girl from an ancient love story came to mind. The girl was a disappointed lover who poisoned the only well in the village.
They take advantage of the roles they play, Mao Tse-tung and Jiang Ching. They help each other and are getting closer to bringing the Lius down. There is still difficulty in making the public buy the negative image of Liu. He has been the Communist icon beside Mao for half a century. To solve the problem and strengthen her position Jiang Ching consults Kang Sheng on Mao's behalf.
Kang Sheng sips tea slowly. Name Liu a traitor. It has always been the most effective way to arouse reaction. It doesn't matter if Liu refuses to enter the scene. You create the show for him. First, bring out Liu's acquaintances with backgrounds associated with foreign agents. Interrogate them and get them to talk the way you want them to talk. Communist or not, no stomach can stand the soaking of hot-pepper water. We have a way to crack open jaws. There will be signatures, then publish the edited version.
It's not whether or not Liu is a traitor, Madame Mao Jiang Ching says to the team of investigators. Your assignment is to get evidence and produce witnesses. You have three days.
The team works around the clock. Soon names are produced. One subject of interrogation is Zhang Chong-yi, a sixty-nine-year-old professor in the foreign language department of Normal University at Hebei Province. Before the liberation he was a head secretary at Furen University. He doesn't know Vice Chairman Liu or Wang Guang-mei personally but he knows their friends at Furen University. Zhang is now a professor of international affairs.
Work on Zhang, Madame Mao orders. Force a confession.
The man can't talk, the team reports. Professor Zhang has been diagnosed with liver cancer and is dying. The man is a breathing skull. His whole face is sunken. His eyes are yellow with jaundice. The right side of his face is paralyzed. His left eye is unable to blink. There is blood in his urine. He is in and out of consciousness.
Race with death, Madame Mao insists. We must have his confession. We must get his voice on tape before he dies. Remember, Chairman Mao is waiting for the results.
The interrogation begins. The recording tape rolls. The tapes are filled with shouts and cries.
Confession or death! Talk, Zhang Chong-yi! Tell us what you know about Wang Guang-mei the traitor.
The dying man fumbles for words. Don't, please don't pull my arm. I'll talk. I am talking. All right, I remember now. Wang Guang-mei, a woman, isn't she? She is Vice Chairman Liu's wife, isn't she?
On the tape there is a slamming sound followed by Zhang Chong-yi's cry.
Stop kicking him! an interrogator yells. He'll be dead if you give him one more blow. Then we will all be in trouble.
Don't even think of fooling us! comes the voice of the head interrogator.
But, Comrade, I am speaking the truth. I am not trying to fool anybody. You see, I… don't want to die.
When did you know Wang Guang-mei as a foreign agent?
Yesterday.
How do you know that she is a foreign agent?
Well, you have told me… You asked me what she did as a foreign agent. So I figure she must be a foreign agent. Or why otherwise would you ask this kind of question?
Watch your mouth! If you conceal the foreign agent you are a foreign agent yourself. Now is a good time to earn credit.
I understand, sir, the dying man gasps. Now that I have stated that she is a foreign agent, will you let me go?…Let me go, please. I beg you. I know Wang Guang-mei is a foreign agent. Not only a foreign agent, she is a Communist agent too.
On the tape the voice becomes breathless. The sound fades. By the time Jiang Ching receives the tape, Professor Zhang Chong-yi has already died. Jiang Ching shakes hands with the investigators. Chairman Mao and I are pleased with your work. Now, we need a witness for Liu.
The same method applies. A witness is produced overnight. This time, it is a friend, a longtime Party worker, Wang Shi-yin, who is suffering from lung cancer. His chest is bound by plastic tubes. But that doesn't stop the investigators. The yelling and shouting blast the tape.