I looked first at Teacher Xiao and then at the Bandit. I burst into uncontrollable sobs. My anger, my disappointment, my injured pride and my shattered beliefs all forced their way out at once. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
The next day, from Director Song's office, I made a phone call to Ben Stevenson in Houston. "I can not come," I told him. "My big leader in government say no." Once more my heart was bleeding with pain.
He asked me some questions I didn't really understand. The only words I detected were "why", "disappointed" and "sad". I kept asking him to repeat. Eventually he screamed down the phone in sheer frustration. "You! Come! Later!"
"No. Big leader say no. I. Write. Letter. For you."
After I had spoken to Ben, I immediately phoned my village and asked for my parents. "Fifth Brother, it's Cunxin. I am coming home."
"Aren't you going back to America?" he asked, surprised.
"No, not any more," I replied.
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing wrong. I will explain when I get back. Tell our parents not to go spending money on special food for me," I said.
"Are you all right? Did you do something wrong?"
"No. I didn't do anything wrong. I'm all right. The Minister for Culture thinks I'm too young to go back alone. I have to go now. I will call you once I get my train ticket." I quickly put the phone down. I didn't want him to hear me crying.
For the following two days I was very emotional. I couldn't wait for the sun to go down so I could clutch onto my niang's quilt and quietly shed my tears.
Two days later I purchased my train ticket, ready to go home for a three-week holiday. But that afternoon, as I was mindlessly scanning through the People's Daily, a headline caught my eye. "Minister Wang, the Minister for Culture, will lead a delegation to South America for five weeks."
I pulled the paper to my chest as though I had found a treasure and immediately ran to Teacher Xiao's office.
"Teacher Xiao, Teacher Xiao! Read this!"
"Yes. I've read it already. The minister is going to South America for five weeks. What's strange about that?"
"Who will be in charge of the ministry while he's gone?" I asked.
Teacher Xiao suddenly understood. We walked down to level two together and knocked on Zhang Shu's door.
"There may be a way for Cunxin to go to America after all," Teacher Xiao said.
Zhang Shu was amused, but Teacher Xiao handed him the newspaper. He quickly scanned the headline and frowned.
"We can lobby the vice-minister in charge to ask permission for Cunxin to leave!" Teacher Xiao shouted excitedly.
"The vice-minister might be reluctant to take on the responsibility knowing Minister Wang had refused it before," Zhang Shu said thoughtfully.
"Can't we lobby all the vice-ministers?" I suggested.
They looked at each other and laughed. "All five of them?" Zhang Shu shook his head.
"It would be extremely difficult, but not impossible," Teacher Xiao added.
They discussed who the key minister in the ministry was and they decided on Lin Muhan, a well-known intellect in China and a labelled rightist who had been through some horrifying times during the Cultural Revolution. He was now in charge of the educational area within the ministry and a strong advocate for talent. Zhang Shu felt that he would be sympathetic towards my situation.
I wrote to my family that night and told them I couldn't go back home just yet.
Our intense lobbying efforts lasted over two weeks.
Teacher Xiao told me years later that he and Zhang Shu had even gone to Lin Muhan's own residence in their final effort to get me back to America. Teacher Xiao made a promise to the minister: within five years Chinese ballet dancers would be the best in the world.
This time they succeeded. Lin Muhan lobbied the four other vice- ministers and signed the permission for me to go to America for one year.
With passport in hand I went to the US consulate in Beijing as soon as I could and my visa was granted within days.
I called Ben. "I can come! Plane ticket, please!" I shouted, my heart blossoming like a flower.
Two days later I received a phone call from Northwest Airlines. My reservation was confirmed. I was to leave China in three days.
My last three days were frantically busy. All my friends wanted some special time alone with me. On my last Saturday night, Teacher Xiao invited the entire class to his apartment and cooked us a delicious meal. We all helped with the washing, cutting and cleaning. He even made an egg, apple and potato salad. We banged our glasses together and shouted, "Gan bei!" Teacher Xiao stood up and raised his glass. "I wish to propose two toasts. The first is to all of you for putting up with me for over five and a half years of shouting and carrying on. This may be our last gathering together. I'm proud to be your teacher and I wish you all the best of luck. You're Chairman and Madame Mao's last generation of dancers. You have studied under the most strict and disciplined rules imaginable, but this will give you an edge over the others. You'll be the last dancers of the era." Teacher Xiao stopped briefly to calm his emotions. "I'll boldly make a prediction. Your dance training will never be duplicated. Your dancing will proudly stand high in Chinese ballet history."
He paused again. "My second toast is to Cunxin's American trip. I hope you will respect your past and charge towards the future.
Perfect your art form. Make all of China proud. Gan bei!"
This was the very last time our class would ever gather together with Teacher Xiao.
I felt so happy about going back to America but I wished that I could go home to my family before I went. I longed to see my parents and brothers again, especially my niang, but I couldn't take the risk of going back to Qingdao. The possibility of the ministers changing their minds was very real. For the time being I had to be content with the thought of seeing my family in a year's time.
I visited my adopted family, the Chongs, that Sunday and tasted their delicious dumplings for the last time. That night at the Beijing Dance Academy, the Bandit, Liu Fengtian, Chong Xiongjun and some of my classmates organised a farewell party. The mood of the whole evening was happy and warm, but there was also a sense of sadness-no one knew if we would ever gather together like this again.
So in November 1979, a month after my original planned date, I left China for the second time. I didn't know it then, but it would be many, many years before I could return.
Part Three. The West
20 Return To The Land of Freedom
I felt only total exhaustion as soon as the plane soared into the air. The past few months had worn me out and even up to the last seconds before the plane took off I feared that the Chinese government might still change its mind and I would be dragged off the plane and back to Beijing for ever.
The thought of never being allowed out of China again was terrifying. I so desperately wanted a freedom of expression and thought which I couldn't have in China. I so desperately wanted to conquer the ballet world. And here was my chance. Now I wouldn't have to dance for Mao's communist ideals. Now I could dance for myself, my parents, my teachers and my friends back in China. The communist influence was fading fast.
Janie Parker, one of the principal dancers of the Houston Ballet, picked me up from Houston Airport. I'd briefly met Janie towards the end of the summer school three months before and I remembered her sunny personality. I was so happy to see her again.
Janie drove me back to Ben's place through perfect autumn weather. I thought of the filthy, dusty Beijing air and I opened the car window to let the fresh, clean Houston air gust against my face, my long permed hair flying wildly in the wind. For a second I thought this was not real. I wasn't meant to be back here again.