Fonteyn. Images of these extraordinary, inspiring dancers stayed in my mind for many, many weeks.
It was around this time, when reading Western ballet books was no longer a crime, that I asked Teacher Xiao if he had been the person who had left that ballet book under my mat in the third year.
"Did you like it?" he smiled enthusiastically.
"Thank you," I nodded and I meant it from the bottom of my heart.
16 Change
Late 1978. Just months away from graduation. On a Saturday night in the biggest dance studio on the fourth floor our teachers organised a party and all the senior students were invited.
It was no ordinary party. It was a waltz party. There were colourful clothes, long dresses, people there I'd never met before, even a few officials from the Ministry of Culture. And there was a strange round silver thing which looked like a landmine, a ball turning slowly from the ceiling and spinning out hundreds of different colours and shapes from the lights. It was wonderful! We were totally entranced. Dancers led their partners elegantly across the floor. Teacher Xiao was the star and many ladies were immediately taken with his style.
After watching the dancing for a while I gathered enough courage to ask a teacher to show me how to waltz. She explained the basic foot movements, and that male dancers should lead, but it was impossible to avoid stepping on her feet! I kept treading on her toes and apologising profusely.
I might have been hopeless in my first waltz but I enjoyed it enormously. It was the first time I had heard such beautiful, romantic music. This never would have been possible under Madame Mao's directorship, I thought. Under Madame Mao any kind of waltz would have been considered a corrupt influence and would have been banned along with every other form of Western filth. But now things were different. Such freedom was refreshing, unique.
Other things changed too. We began to watch more and more foreign films. We would find any possible way to get into the heavily guarded theatres where these "coloured films" were shown. Fake theatre tickets were made. Wigs and moustaches were stolen from the costume shops of the academy. Once we got into the theatre we would find every possible way of staying there for the next screening. We would hide behind the window curtains, behind the doors, behind the screen on the stage, even in the toilets. Anything to get to see those films. Years of isolation from Western culture and suppressed sexual freedom had found their outlet.
One day the Bandit meticulously glued the torn halves of some used theatre tickets together. We whitened our hair and slipped into the theatre with our fake tickets without being detected. The place was packed with people, crammed to both sides, and it was dingy and dark. The Bandit and I sneaked to the centre and sat in the aisle. We didn't have rehearsal until three, plenty of time to finish the movie and get back. But neither of us had a watch. "Lujun," I whispered. "How will we know when it's time to go?"
"Don't worry, I have an internal clock," he said confidently.
I was going to say more but the movie had started. It was an American movie about a love triangle. The translated Chinese title was Hurt Too Much To Say Goodbye. Two inept translators, a man and a woman, provided mediocre translation over a pair of microphones but they often forgot to translate and we, the frustrated audience, were left to guess for ourselves most of the time.
I couldn't believe the colourful clothes the women wore in these movies. So different to how Chinese women dressed. I did wonder if the high-heeled shoes were comfortable though. They looked just as bad as the pointe shoes.
Some of the actresses were breathtakingly beautiful but they all looked so much alike. It was in this movie that I witnessed a kiss for the very first time. My heart raced, my blood boiled when I saw that kiss. I wondered what it would be like-really kissing someone.
The Bandit's internal clock didn't work. By the time the movie had finished we were late for our rehearsal and we ran as fast as we could back to the academy and quickly changed our clothes.
As we approached the studio I heard Teacher Xiao's voice. My heart immediately sank. Teacher Xiao was the last person I wanted to offend.
Teacher Xiao turned and looked at us and, without changing his expression, went on coaching the other students. I was embarrassed beyond description. I glanced furiously at the Bandit: I wanted to pull his internal clock out and smash it to pieces.
"Cunxin, come to my office after your next break," Teacher Xiao said at the end of the rehearsal.
I spent the whole of the next rehearsal thinking about what I should say to Teacher Xiao. If I told him the truth he would be thoroughly disappointed with my lack of discipline. I still hadn't decided what to say when I knocked on his office door.
Teacher Xiao got straight to the point. "Why were you late?"
"I went to a movie," I stuttered. I had to tell him the truth.
"I had a feeling you had gone to a movie, but although you have told me the truth it doesn't take any of my disappointment away."
"I'm sorry, Teacher Xiao. I thought I would be able to make it back in time for the rehearsal but I didn't realise it was so late. I promise it won't happen again."
He looked at me intently for a few moments. "Cunxin, this wouldn't have surprised me if it had been any other student. But I am extremely surprised and disappointed that it was you! I don't question your dedication but I do question your judgement. I don't care if you watch a hundred movies in your spare time but classes and rehearsals are your learning opportunities."
I nodded. I knew I was unquestionably in the wrong.
Then in a different tone Teacher Xiao asked, "What was the movie?"
"A coloured film."
"What's the name?" he asked.
"Something like Hurt Too Much to Say Goodbye," I replied and lowered my head.
"Any scenes without clothes?" he asked seriously.
"No, only kisses," I replied.
"Okay, off you go." He shook his head as he spoke but I could see a subtle smile. I was glad I was honest with him. I could never have lied to him. Not to Teacher Xiao.
"Coloured" movies weren't the only distraction in those last few months. I was besotted with a girl from Shanghai called Her Junfang as well. We would often pass secret adoring looks to each other and when she acknowledged my gaze my heart would race at a thousand miles an hour.
One night we secretly met in a dark studio. I could sense her unease. I felt my face burning. The air seemed so thick that I found it hard to breathe. We would be expelled if the teachers discovered us.
"How was your holiday?" I whispered.
"Fine, how was yours?"
"Good. I brought you some sorghum sweets," I replied.
"Thank you, I like them. I brought you some Shanghai cakes."
We edged closer to each other. Suddenly we heard the door of Zhang Shu's office open and we froze. My heart was suspended in the air.
To our great relief his footsteps went in the opposite direction. We only had a few minutes to get away, so we nervously exchanged our gifts and quickly tiptoed out of the studio.
When I finally sat on the edge of my bed in the dark with Her Junfang's gift in my hands, my heart was still pitching like a rough sea. I hated myself for being such a coward, for not holding her when I had the chance. I couldn't believe that I had forgotten all the passionate words I had rehearsed in my mind before our meeting. And we never had the opportunity to get close to each other again.