The following day Lori and Delworth took me to Charles Foster's office in downtown Houston.
Charles Foster said he had read about me in the newspaper. He said I could qualify for a green card on my own artistic merits. He also mentioned that the Chinese government recognised international marriage laws.
I remember feeling unsure, not about my love for Elizabeth, but Charles seemed very young to be so successful and I didn't really understand everything he'd said about the law anyway.
Lori and Delworth tried to explain more but I left that first meeting still very confused. I loved Elizabeth. And I couldn't go back to China and survive in a world with no freedom. Not any more. But China was where my parents were, where my family and my friends lived. I could still contribute an enormous amount to Chinese ballet.
It was then that I realised I was torn between two possible lives. I didn't know what I was going to do.
21 Elizabeth
I had been in Houston for eleven months but my secret relationship with Elizabeth was only a few weeks old. Still, I had to keep focused on my work.
I'd been rehearsing the Le Corsaire pas de deux one day with Suzanne, experimenting with a new, one-handed lift, when just before the end of our rehearsal there was a jerk in my shoulder joint and a sharp pain shot through my right arm. I caught Suzanne with my left hand on the way down, but stars flashed before my eyes and for a few minutes I couldn't feel anything but intense pain.
Ben and Suzanne were immediately concerned. I went to the dancers' lounge and put an icepack on my shoulder joint. I knew I had dislocated it, and probably torn some tendons and muscles too, but I didn't want to see a doctor. I didn't want Ben to think it was serious. He might take me out of the ballet.
My shoulder was swollen for days and I covered it up by wearing long-sleeved shirts. I couldn't do lifts properly and had to make different excuses. Then I developed severe tendonitis in my left Achilles tendon and a shin-splint in my right leg. I knew I was overworking myself and I knew that by continuing to practise I might make my injuries worse. But I also knew I needed to work harder if I was ever to reach the standard of Baryshnikov and Vasiliev. There was no way I was going to let injury slow me down now.
Ben had also choreographed a circle of six consecutive double assemblé or double turns in the air, for my solo in Le Corsaire. I could barely do one well, let alone six. Every time my feet pushed off from the floor my body would twist in the air like a barbecued shrimp. "There is no point getting yourself injured," Ben said. "If it doesn't work, let's change it."
"No, Ben! Please, give me few days," I begged, despite the pain of the injuries. I was angry with myself for not being able to do what Ben had in mind but there was a weekend coming up and I knew I could use it to practise. I borrowed one of the dancer's keys for our studio and locked myself in for two whole days, practising each movement and analysing them in absolute detail- the angle of my leap, the timing, weight distribution, speed- everything. At times the pain was excruciating but I remembered Teacher Xiao's mangoes. I yearned to taste each layer. I practised over and over and over and fell many times, but then I thought of the bow-shooter and how he'd persevered, and I practised again and again and again.
I made the breakthrough late on Sunday afternoon. The angle and the speed of my first leg was the key.
I was elated. I truly believed, now, that nothing was impossible.
Le Corsaire was a huge success. My double assemblé and the difficult lifts worked beautifully. The audience demanded an encore. I didn't understand what an encore was then and I wasn't prepared, and the stagehands had already started to change the scenery for the next ballet. But then, quite unexpectedly, Ben came on stage with a microphone in hand. He stood in front of the curtain and made an announcement: he now had the Chinese government's permission for me to stay in Houston longer and had promoted me to a soloist position with the Houston Ballet.
This must be a dream, I thought. Senior Consul Zhang Zongshu from the Chinese consulate was in the audience that evening. He was very proud: I had brought glory to the Chinese people, he said, and he would do anything in his power to make sure my stay was extended. His report to the Chinese government would be most positive. In the end the Chinese government gave me permission to stay for an extra five months and the dancers' union agreed to allow my promotion.
From then on in Houston I was a sort of celebrity. It was very strange. I was stopped by people in restaurants, shops, streets and even parking lots. But despite this instant stardom I knew I would have to work hard-I knew I couldn't lose sight of my aim. My injuries gradually got better but nothing else changed. Zhang and I continued to stay with Ben and I continued to meet Elizabeth in secret. I became increasingly frustrated at not being able to see Elizabeth more but I also felt guilty. I felt like I was betraying Ben and China, both at once. I wished I hadn't allowed myself to fall in love with her. Living with both desire and guilt was becoming suffocating but I had no choice. Anyone I told would be placed in a very dangerous situation with the Chinese government. I couldn't bear to put my family and friends in such a position. My only option was to stay quiet.
Soon it was April 1981 and I had less than a month to go before returning to China. The Houston Ballet's first major tour to New York was coming up and both Zhang and I would perform.
I was the second cast for the lonely, arrogant prince in John Cranko's The Lady and the Fool. I had never even heard of this ballet before but one week before the performance in New York, out of the blue, Ben asked me to do a full rehearsal with the first-cast dancers. I was stunned. I thought it must be a mistake.
The prince's first entrance was in the middle of a high-society ball. I had to enter at the far-back centre stage and come down some steps with people on both sides of the stage standing back in silence and admiration. But walking down those steps was like walking on hot coals for me. Everything felt unnatural and awkward.
"Li, you're too sweet and too nice," Ben said and stopped the pianist. "Go back and do it again. I want more arrogance."
I was shaking with embarrassment. I was twenty and I still had no idea what an arrogant prince would feel like. But Ben made me repeat it over and over again, and by the time he went on with the rest of the rehearsal my practice clothes were soaked with sweat.
But it paid off. My inhibitions went. I eventually enjoyed portraying this arrogant prince, a prince who would have been considered evil in communist China. And here I was, portraying him with pride. I had made a fundamental shift in my dancing. The two weeks in New York allowed me to really taste that city. I fell in love with it. Everywhere I went I made new friends. New York was full of artists. So many wonderful classes to choose from. It seemed that ballet teachers and dancers were everywhere, even choreographers. One day when I was taking a class at the School of American Ballet, I bumped into George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins, two of the most highly regarded American choreographers in the world. The famous Danish teacher Stanley Williams taught class that day and many dancers from the New York City Ballet, including one of their stars Peter Martins, were in that class. For me, a peasant boy from Qingdao, it was amazing.
Another day, I remember peering into the American Ballet Theater's studio and seeing Baryshnikov doing a barre. I couldn't believe my eyes! This was the man I had admired for so long! But how little he was! How could such great dancing coming from such a small body? Then the following day, in the same studio, there was Natalia Makarova sitting on the floor doing her stretches. And a day later I found myself standing on the same barre as Gelsey Kirkland, the very same Sugarplum Fairy who danced brilliantly with Baryshnikov in that Nutcracker video I'd watched in China. I would never forget her quality. Every movement was performed to perfection, every detail demonstrated with precision. I was meeting people and experiencing things that I had only dreamt about in China. It was magical and New York was the focus.