"I can't agree with you more," Mother responded. "Mrs. Pei was honorably stubborn. She would rather have had her head removed than give up her feelings for Mr. Pei. But how could she have any idea how Wild Ginger would turn out?"
"'A piece of real gold fears no fire,'" recited Mrs. Cheng. "When Wild Ginger was brought to my class I knew she was talented and would sooner or later distinguish herself."
The fishwoman Jung was brought onto the stage to tell her story. "It doesn't surprise me that Chairman Mao wants to receive Wild Ginger," Jung said. "Wild Ginger is the best of all his disciples. Serving the people with heart and soul is exactly what Wild Ginger has been practicing."
Hot Pepper pushed herself through the crowd and was trying to shake hands with the heroine. Wild Ginger paid no attention. She walked right past Hot Pepper to give an interview to a radio journalist. Her voice through the loudspeakers was resonant and filled with passion.
At the school gate, the general party secretary's jeep was waiting for Wild Ginger. The jeep was covered with red crepe-paper flowers. A crowd was cheering.
Wild Ginger emerged from the school principal's office in her uniform. She was surrounded by people. Before letting her get into the jeep the principal and the heads of the neighborhood and district competed to show their affection. They took off their own treasured Mao buttons and pinned them to Wild Ginger's clothes.
"Learn from our heroine, Wild Ginger!" Hot Pepper led the crowd to shout.
"Salute to our heroine, Wild Ginger!"
"Long live Chairman Mao!"
I followed the slogan and shouted. I thought of Hot Pepper's umbrella and Wild Ginger's broken abacus.
As a result of Wild Ginger's meeting with Chairman Mao a series of events took place.
First, our neighborhood committee put up a bulletin to notify all citizens that the late Mr. and Mrs. Pei's identities had been reevaluated. Instead of being called the "French spies," they were now to be called the "international Communists."
Second, a report of the conversation between Wild Ginger and Chairman Mao was nationally distributed. It read:
Wild Ginger: Chairman Mao, unfortunately I was born with a political defect. I am a quarter French.
Chairman Mao: The late Canadian doctor Norman Bethune was not a Chinese. But it didn't stop him from coming to China and participating in the Chinese revolution. It didn't stop him from opening a hospital to serve our Red Army. He died on duty, of a blood infection, but his spirit, his utter devotion to others without any thought of self, was shown in his work, in his warm-heartedness toward all comrades and people. We must all learn the spirit of absolute selflessness from him. One's background is irrelevant. One's performance counts and that is what makes one who he is. A man's ability may be great or small, but if he has this spirit, he is already noble-minded and pure, a man of moral integrity and above vulgar interest, a man who is of value to the people.
Wild Ginger: Dear Chairman, I thank you for the enlightenment.
Chairman Mao: Also, revolution is not only a Chinese subject. Karl Marx was not Chinese either. The Chinese revolution has inherited the great French Revolution's tradition. You should be proud that you have an internationalist's blood.
Wild Ginger: How should I continue to devote myself to your teaching?
Chairman Mao: Keep in mind that the duty to liberate the world rests on the shoulders of the young people.
Third, the whole neighborhood was mobilized to help remodel Wild Ginger's house. As a political project, the house was fixed in a week. The district party secretary personally came and rolled up his sleeves and trousers and worked on the walls.
Fourth, Wild Ginger was given not only a full scholarship for the rest of her school years but a monthly allowance as well. She was treated as an orphan of revolutionary martyrs and was granted a handsome martyr's pension.
Fifth, Wild Ginger was accepted as the youngest member of the Communist party and was pronounced the commander in chief of the Red Guard.
The day of Wild Ginger's return was made into a festival. A parade was designed to welcome her. From the airport the roads were crossed with banners. Hundreds and thousands of schoolchildren were lined up on each side of the road to greet her. The city's normal traffic was banned. The crowd extended throughout the city all the way to the east end-the bank of the Huangpu River.
I was given a big task-to be a human sculpture of the heroine. It was supposed to be the highlight of the parade. I stood twenty-five feet high, on top of a bus that had been converted into a stage. Behind me was a hundred-man drum team, all dressed in red silk gowns with their drumsticks tied with colorful silk strings. The drums were as large as backyard ponds.
I was dressed in a green army uniform tied with a belt at the waist. My hair was done in Wild Ginger's fashion: two short braids at the ears. I held a larger-than-life Mao Quotation Book made of cardboard. I was told to pose with my chest protruding and my head turned at a forty-five-degree angle. My right ankle was tied to a pole for stability. Under my feet were four boys on their hands and knees, posed as the villains. The one who wore dark-framed glasses was supposed to be Accountant Choo. The rest played the cigarette seller, the squid seller, and the liquor seller. Their faces were painted blue and purple while mine was powdered with red and pink. We were already sweating hard.
The bamboo poles supporting me swayed when there was wind. Although the bus driver drove slowly, it was still scary. I felt that I could be pitched into the air at any moment. The crowd cheered at the top of their lungs when they saw us pass. I tried to act as calmly as I could, but every time the bus made a jerky stop the poles bent to an impossible angle. I was so scared that I almost wet my pants. The boys beneath my feet begged me not to scream and promised that they would hold me. Gradually I got used to the sway. As our bus passed, the children cried, "Look! The heroine Wild Ginger! Wild Ginger!"
I was exhausted. The boys had abandoned their poses and came to lean on each other. As the poles swayed again I almost landed on the drummers' heads. When the poles swung back I let out a breath. The boys stuck out their thumbs to praise me-forgetting their roles as villains.
The sound of the drums shook the city. After the parade crossed Liberation Boulevard, I could see the riverfront. Behind me the drum buses were followed by accordion bands, the red-flag holders, and the sunflower dancers.
"Split the lines and yield to the side!" came the general party secretary's order, which was passed down through an electrical amplifier. "Let the heroine through!"
"Welcome home! The biggest welcome!" the crowd cheered.
To my excitement, a green jeep led by three motorcycles appeared.
Wild Ginger stood in the open jeep waving at the crowd. Next to her were four armed soldiers. She was in a full new army outfit with a red-star cap on her head. She was shining and gloriously beautiful.
Could she see me? Did she know that I was playing her? I clapped my hands so hard that my palms began to hurt. It didn't feel real. It felt like a dream.
Her new house was ordered to be completed the day before her return. Her favorite Mao quotations were copied onto the walls by the best calligrapher in the country. The roof edges were laid with ceramic tiles of sunflowers. The house stood out like a glistening castle among bleak rocks.
Would she miss her mother in the new house?
12
She was ahead of me. We had been apart for only a month but she seemed to have grown much taller than I. Her sunlit eyes were brighter than ever. She stood in a new pair of green army boots. We chatted endlessly, walking from her house to my house and then back to hers. Finally, we settled ourselves under the fig tree and carried the conversation into the night.