That year, our academy was chosen to participate in an important public performance, the first for Madame Mao. We were to dance an excerpt from China 's most famous ballet, The Red Detachment of Women. I thought this ballet was brilliant-all about Chairman Mao's army and their bravery, with the dancers doing leaps and turns with guns and flags and grenades: I loved it.
The whole academy was ecstatic about the coming performance. Everyone was vying for a part. The role of the hero, Chang Qing, a captain of the Red Army, was given to the Bandit. I was among five boys chosen to play the peasant boy, the "little fat boy". The name had nothing to do with his appearance, and eventually I was selected to be second cast to a slightly older boy. But still, I was just so happy to be one of the final two.
Chen Lueng, my first ballet teacher, was the rehearsal master for this performance. One day during rehearsal he suddenly switched me and the older boy around and I became the first cast. Both of us were shocked. The Bandit was very happy for me but I clearly saw the disappointment in the other boy's eyes. I felt terrible. I had taken something precious away from him. I went to Chen Lueng after the rehearsal and told him that I would be happy to remain as second cast.
"Cunxin," he said, "life is not meant to be fair. As an artist you have to remain honest to your art form. You are better than him and deserve to be seen. If I didn't do what I felt was best for our art form then I would have failed as a teacher. You should stop dancing now if you don't want to be the best."
Deep inside I knew Chen Lueng was right and his words affected me. I knew ballet was an art form based on honesty. The audience could see a good dancer from miles away.
I went to the other boy and told him I was very sorry for taking his place.
That was my first career break and I worked very hard on that role. Teachers started to notice me more. The role didn't just give me a rare opportunity to perform in front of Madame Mao: it also gave me confidence.
The role of the little fat boy didn't require any technically difficult dancing. The most challenging thing was a number of death-like "brighten the presence" stares. The scene we were to perform for Madame Mao was called "Chang Qing Zhi Lu", or "Chang Qing showing the road". For our entrance the Bandit and I walked on with furiously fast heel-toe Beijing Opera walks. I lunged in front of him dramatically with a gun in my hand and both of us looked right into the audience with our death-like stares. No movement was allowed, not even a breath or the blink of an eye. Then I had to play this embarrassed gesture, to scratch my head because my gun was exposed, which always triggered whispers of laughter from the audience. I was told that Madame Mao laughed too when I scratched my head. I was happy that Madame Mao laughed and I practised the scratching head bit so many times to make it as convincing as possible.
This was also the year I started to do better in other classes, especially Chinese. I grew to love Chinese class and our teacher Shu Wen very much. He was a true intellect. He taught us with passion.
One day in his class we were studying a fable that was half a page long. It took Shu Wen a whole week to help us unravel the meaning and intricacies of the story. It was about a young farmer who had wasted his precious planting season because he'd waited and waited for a blind rabbit to run into a tree and kill itself after another had done so on the edge of his land. "I have discovered the secret of getting food without physical work!" the farmer assured his wife. "I'll bring home a rabbit every day and we'll have meat to eat for ever." But no blind rabbits came. By the time he realised his stupidity, it was too late. The crucial planting season was over and his family's savings were gone.
Again the essence of this fable left its mark on me. Nothing comes easily. There are no shortcuts. Things only come when one works for them. Time should be treasured.
,7t4n4 For the following photos, I have included the written text which is listed below each photo in the book. The photos are not included.7'
My classmates and myself, centre front, wearing Mao's Red Guard scarves. This was taken in early 1972, in Laoshan.
The New Village, Li Commune-the world of my upbringing. This photo was taken in 2002-nothing much as changed since I was born.
Proudly wearing Mao's army uniform, in January 1974-aspiring to become a true and faithful follower of the communist ideal.
My beloved niang washing, forever washing, in the courtyard of our home. This was taken when I went back to China in 1988.
My first lonely day in Beijing, posing for one of our group photos in Tiananmen Square -I am in the front row, fourth from the right.
The Beijing Dance Academy -my world for seven long years. Here it is in 1997-again, nothing much had changed: the studio building is on the right, hot-water boiler room and teacher's rooms in the centre, and the canteen to the left.
Hai Luo Sha, one of our political ballets, with me and "Chairman Mao".
Rehearsing Hai Luo Sha with Teacher Zhang Shu in 1976. In the background are Mao's grand words: "Have your country in your heart and the world in your vision".
First contact with the West-Zhang Weiqiang and I in New York in 1979.
On the steps of the Vaganova Ballet School in Leningrad -my first trip to another communist country.
Defection. 29 April 1981. Being freed from the consulate with Elizabeth Mackey and Charles Foster.
Finally at ease as the Western prince-Sleeping Beauty in 1984.
With Barbara Bush at the White House in 1991. She was instrumental in bringing my parents to the US and in fostering my relationship with China.
Applying my makeup for a performance with the Houston Ballet-a new identity, a transformation: what would my niang and dia think of this? I lived in another world now.
In Glen Tetley's Rite of Spring-making the giant leaps I'd always dreamt of.
The Esmeralda pas de deux with Mary, in 1990, in a gala performance at the Sydney Opera House.
My beloved family in Melbourne in 1997-my wife Mary and our children Sophie, Thomas and Bridie.
After our mid-year exams that year, we all sat in a circle on the floor and Teacher Xiao read out his report on the progress of each student. Then we were allowed to grade Teacher Xiao's performance. A couple of students criticised Teacher Xiao for raising his voice and shouting at them. Teacher Xiao gracefully apologised. But when the bully Li Ming accused Teacher Xiao of favouritism towards Fu Xijun and me, he lost his temper. "I am proud to have the integrity to be fair to the diligent students. Anyone who has achieved something deserves praise and encouragement. Xijun and Cunxin have made huge progress. Learn from them."
Li Ming's face turned from white to red, then from red to a funny shade of ash. I didn't know whether he was embarrassed, angry or ashamed. Maybe he was all of those things. I was certainly embarrassed by Teacher Xiao's praise in front of the class, but still, his acknowledgement meant a lot to me and his words continued to encourage me.
We started our pas de deux classes in the second half of that year. I liked this class-it was my only chance to touch the girls. At first, the girls and the boys were on different sides of the studio. Then we were paired by our teacher according to size and strength. I secretly wished to be paired with the girls I liked, of course, but that was as close to the girls as we got. As soon as the music ended we would go back to opposite sides of the studio.
In the second half of that year, some ballet films were shown to us. They were Russian and had previously been banned. We weren't supposed to learn anything technical or artistic from them: we were just supposed to criticise the story. Giselle, for example, was clearly a story from a rotten capitalist society. We endlessly criticised the pathetic peasant girl Giselle who did nothing with her life other than desire the jewellery and lifestyle of the wealthy. We analysed her pursuit of filthy material values. We laughed at her naïve love for the deceitful Prince Albrecht. How stupid and disgusting she was to turn her back on the peasant who truly loved her. "You can tell this ballet was designed by a capitalist," our political head said. "He has glorified the rich and portrayed the peasants as whores. What a contrast to our model ballets! Our three classes of people are our heroes!"