To isolate me, Mao cuts off my association with Marshal Lin. Mao orders Lin to take the army to "clear the mess left by Jiang Ching's Red Guards."
I feel crushed. I immediately write a letter to Mao claiming that I have been working only under his instruction.
Mao makes no response. It is his true character acting. A moment in which he recognizes no feelings or memory. He lets himself be taken by fear.
Once again I am betrayed and shit upon. I'm shaken, yet I don't have a place to beg.
Mao dismisses my cabinet. He sends my people away. Saws off my limbs. A national migration of youth. Two hundred million Red Guards are chased to the countryside in the name of "spreading the seed of the revolution all over China." And yet I am not allowed to say a word. His purpose is to make me see how ill built my power is. There is no foundation. I am no different than Liu. This scares me to death. I am afraid to think about the future. If I can be stripped like this while Mao is living, what about when he dies?
But no, I can't get off the tiger. It is either eat or be eaten.
Lin Biao sees his chance to succeed both Premier Zhou and me. He races on. In the Party's Ninth Convention Mao officially pronounces Lin Biao his successor.
Believe me. History is full of tricks. Real-life drama is better than any playwright's imagination. Marshal Lin has no confidence that his own health will last. He fears that Mao will change his mind and decides to act. He plots a coup d'état. At the same time as he flies Mao live lobsters he sends his son to bomb Mao's train. Well, Mao is the bigger witch in the temple of magic-Mao has two security trains of four cars apiece run in advance. Lin has no luck in catching him.
She is sitting next to Mao, opposite Lin Biao and his wife, Ye Qiun. On the other side of the table sits Premier Zhou and his wife, Deng Yin-chao. She doesn't realize what is going on until the next morning. At the table she observes nothing unusual. Mao begins the ceremony by opening a bottle of imperial wine sealed in its original Ming dynasty porcelain vase 482 years earlier. He then lights incense. Let's celebrate the Moon Festival.
The dinner is elaborate, with sea cucumbers and other land and ocean delicacies. Mao uses his chopsticks to heap Lin's plate with tendons of tiger shot a week ago in Manchuria. The atmosphere is pleasant. She is not aware that her husband is starring in a live opera. She is in a sentimental mood. Mao had his secretary tell her that she must leave the banquet by exactly ten-thirty. She took it as an insult but nevertheless came to dinner. During the meal, she feels her heart ache over the courtyards, flowers and bamboo tree. She used to live here with Mao. The liquor makes the animal statues on the ancient stone tablets and fountains come to life. She turns to the other side. The little vegetable patch is a picture of a harvest. Beans are green and peppers are red. Again she is reminded of their life in Yenan.
The group is dressed casually except for Mao. He is oddly formal tonight, wearing a starched jacket buttoned up to the chin. After a toast he turns to Lin. How's the army doing?
Can't be beat.
Nice job you did in Wuhan.
It's nothing to squash the rebels.
The People's Liberation Army under your command has shown itself a good model for the people, Premier Zhou says, finally inserting his comment.
Lin has been working too hard, Lin's wife cuts in. His doctor begged him to stay in bed. But we all know that he is out of himself when he hears the Chairman call. He breathes for you, Chairman.
Very kind, very kind. Mao heaps two pieces of fried pork rib on Lin's plate and then fills his own cup with more wine. Ye Qiun, you must take good care of your man. He is the only one I've got-he has to run the business after I'm gone.
Premier Zhou seems to have no appetite, but tries to eat to please his host. His wife carefully picks oily fish skin out of her husband's plate and replaces it with green vegetables. Once in a while she watches her husband with concern. He eats slowly and is paying close attention to Mao.
So, what have you been doing, Premier?
Zhou wipes his mouth and states that he has just come back from a trip to Northern Three Province. I went there to check on the Red Guards who were sent there a year ago.
Oh, looking after the kids. Mao laughs and nods. And how are they? I have been wondering myself. Have they adapted to the situation well and have they been productive? I assume they know how to run tractors better than the peasants. They are educated and can read instructions, can't they? I expect them to produce a great harvest. It is a good year in terms of the weather.
Well, the picture is not so good, Premier Zhou answers. The youths and the locals don't get along. The youths don't know much about the importance of catching the seasons. They thought the machines could do everything at any time. But it was the rainy season. Hundreds of tractors entered the field-they were like frogs with their legs chopped off. They got stuck and couldn't move an inch. And it was too late when they realized their mistake. With the help of the locals they collected as much wheat as they could with sickles and left the rest of the grain to rot in the fields. The last day I was there, the kids used their clothes and blankets to bag up the grain and lay it out on their beds to dry-
Always a price for lessons, Mao interrupts. As if no longer interested in Zhou's details he turns to Jiang Ching. You are doing well, aren't you?
She doesn't know where he is heading so she quickly answers, Yes, Chairman, the opera films are doing beautifully. The troupes are making new ones. It will be an honor if the Chairman can inspect the troupe.
He throws her a mysterious smile and then goes on to comment on the wine. She is having a hard time following him-on one hand he tries to generate a conversation, on the other, he is not listening. It is the first time she plays a role without knowing that she is even on a stage.
The group keeps drinking. Don't expect too much. The truth is, no cripple will lend you his stick. In between sips and toasts Mao throws comments as if drunk. The mouse's greatest happiness is to steal away a fistful of grain.
Oh look, the host exclaims, I totally forget the time. We should do this more often, right? Premier Zhou? Jiang Ching, are you full?
I look at my watch. It is ten-thirty. I get up. Mao comes over and gives me a comrade-style handshake.
What am I supposed to say? Thank you for dinner? I leave silently.
We'll leave with Comrade Jiang Ching. Premier Zhou and his wife get up.
We will too. The Lins follow.
Mao holds up his hand to Lin. No, do stay at least for another half-hour. We haven't really gotten a chance to talk yet.
When the Lins sit back down Mao chats freely. He asks about Lin's family and health and suggests places for him to vacation. He listens tentatively and recommends to Lin his own herb doctor. He then asks Ye about her dream for their son "Tiger." Ye is flattered and starts to babble about Tiger's achievement.
Your son is talented and deserves a high position in the army. Mao lights up a cigarette. The people need him. Listen, Lin Biao, have you ever thought of promoting your son as the commander in chief of the entire army? That way you can free yourself to take up my job.
Well, Tiger is only twenty-six…
If you are not going to do it, I will. He owes the people his gift.
At ten fifty-four the Lins bid farewell.
Allow me to walk you to the door, Mao offers. I'd like to see you off personally.
At midnight, the phone at the Garden of Stillness rings. Jiang Ching picks up the receiver half asleep. It is Kang Sheng.
The Lins are dead, he reports. The mission was completed neatly and quietly within the compound of the Forbidden City.
To hide her shock Madame Mao asks Kang Sheng for the details of the execution.