Becoming Madame Mao (26 page)

Inspired by the notion, the nation answers Mao's call. Every piece of private land is taken away and put under the ownership of the government. Peasants are encouraged to "experience Communism where they live"—free-food commune cafeterias begin to bloom like weeds after a rain. On the industrial front, Mao promotes "backyard steel factories." The locals are ordered to donate their woks, axes and wash basins.

The Great Leap is the perfect expression of Mao's mind and beliefs, his daring and romanticism. He waits for the results anxiously. At the beginning there is praise for his vision, but two years later come reports of violence breaking out between poor and rich. Looting for food and shelter has become a problem. Before autumn the stir becomes so serious that it begins to threaten security. Everything is consumed, including the planting seeds for next spring, while nothing is produced. The nation's last storage is empty. Mao begins to feel the pressure. He begins to realize that running a country is not like winning a guerrilla war.

1959 begins with floods and is followed by drought. A sense of desperation falls across the land. Despite Mao's call to fight the disaster—
It is man's will, not heaven, that decides
—hundreds and thousands of peasants flee their hometowns in search of food. Along the coastline many of them are forced to sell their children and some poison their entire families to end the despair. By winter, the number of deaths rises to twenty million. Reports have piled up on the desk of Premier Zhou's office.

Mao is more embarrassed than worried. He remembers how determined he was to make his plan a reality. He has issued instructions:

"Race toward Communism"

"Demolish family structure"

"One rice bowl, one pair of chopsticks, one set of blankets— the style of Communism"

"One hectare, ten thousand pounds of yams, two hundred thousand pounds of rice"

"Mate rabbit with cow so the rabbit will get as big as the cow"

"Raise chickens as big as elephants"

"Grow beans as big as the moon and eggplants big as squashes"

In June, peasants' riots rise in Shanxi and Anhui provinces. The Politburo calls a vote to stop Mao's policy.

Mao retreats for the next six months.

My husband has fallen from the clouds. I have only seen him once in three months. He looks low and distressed. Nah tells me that he sees no one. No more actresses. The news fills me with mixed feelings. Of course, I am hopeful that he may reach out to me. But I am also surprised and even saddened—I have never imagined that he could be vulnerable.

Late one evening Kang Sheng visits my place unexpectedly. Mao is in need of you, he tells me excitedly. The Chairman's reputation has been terribly damaged. His enemies are now taking advantage of his error and are setting out to overthrow him.

I take a sip of the chrysanthemum tea. It has never tasted so wonderful as it does now.

I begin to see a way in which I can help Mao. I become so excited with the thought that I neglect Kang Sheng's presence. I see printing machines rolling, voices broadcasting and films projecting. I feel the power of the media. The way it washes and bleaches minds. I can feel the coming success. There is energy going through my body. I am about to enter an act leading to the climax of my life.

Trying to share the pleasure of finding a great role, I explain to Kang Sheng how I feel. But he has fallen asleep on the sofa.

It begins with a convention in July 1959, held on Mount Lu, a resort area where the landscape is majestic. At first Mao appears humble and modest. He admits his mistakes and encourages criticism. His sincerity moves the delegates and representatives from all over the country, among them Fairlynn. Fairlynn criticizes Mao's Great Leap as a chimpanzee experiment; Yang Xian-zhen, a theorist and the director of the School of the Communist Party, points out that Mao has romanticized Communism and has applied fantasy to reality. On July 14, Mao's claimed loyalist, Marshal Peng De-huai, the son of a peasant, a man known for his great contributions and no-nonsense character, sends a personal letter to Mao in which he reports the result of his private investigation—the shocking facts about the failure of the People's Commune—the fruit of the Great Leap Forward.

Mao smokes. Packs a day. His teeth are brown and his fingernails are tobacco yellow. He listens to what others have to say and makes no response. The cigarette travels between his lips and the ashtray. Once in a while he nods, forces a smile, shakes hands with the speaker. Good job. You have spoken for the people. I appreciate your frankness. Be proud of yourself as a Communist.

A week later, Mao claims illness and announces his temporary resignation. Vice Chairman Liu takes over the nation's business.

I do not show my face at any of the meetings although I am at Mount Lu. I read reports sent by Kang Sheng and am more than well informed about the proceedings. Mao is bruised. I have a sense that he will not take it for long. He is not the type who admits mistakes. He thinks of himself as a Communist, but by instinct he is an emperor. He lives to be a leading man, just like me, who can't see herself not being a leading lady.

Seizing the moment, I decide to make a trip to Shanghai. I make friends with fresh faces. The artists and dramatists. The young and the ambitious. I cultivate relations by attending their openings and work with them on raw material. Would you like to devote your talent to Chairman Mao? I ask. How about changing this tune to the Chairman's favorite? Yes, be creative and daring.

I educate my friends by sending reference materials, among them "Midnight Incense," a Chinese classic opera piece, and the famous Italian song "Return to Sorrento." In the beginning they are confused—they were used to the traditional linear thinking. I broaden their minds and gradually they benefit from my teaching. They thrive on my ideas. There are a few brilliant minds. One composer for violin is so quick that he turns Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Flowers" into a Chinese folk dance and names it "The Red Sky of Yenan."

I train what I call a "cultural troop." A troop that Mao will need to fight his ideological battles. I can hardly keep it a secret. I can see it working. I imagine Mao looking at me with the smile he shone on me thirty years ago. On the other hand I am uncertain, even a little afraid—Mao has never quite seen things my way. How can I know if he will be pleased with what I am doing?

For the first time in many years I am no longer bothered by insomnia. I throw away the sleeping pills. When I wake up I no longer feel threatened by my rivals. Even Wang Guang-mei causes me no worry. Although she and Liu, her husband, enjoy the limelight, I predict that their days are numbered.

***

Vice Chairman Liu never realizes that this is where Mao's grudge starts. The plot begins while Liu gets busy trying to save the nation. Liu shuts Mao's commune system down and replaces it with his own invention, the
zi-liu-de
program, which allows peasants to own their backyards and sell whatever they have planted. The locals are encouraged to operate on a family basis. In essence, it is capitalism Chinese style. It is spit on Mao's face.

Madame Mao Jiang Ching observes her husband's mood. She has just gotten back from Shanghai. She and Kang Sheng have been watching the Mao-tiger get its whiskers pulled. Every day after the convention, Kang Sheng goes to Madame Mao's hotel room and updates her with news.

Pay attention to the timing, Kang Sheng says. The dragon-tornado is coming. It is near. Mao is going to attack and it will be the end of Liu. Watch, the more enemies Mao makes the faster he will turn to you.

Without a warning Mao returns to Beijing in September. He calls up a Politburo meeting and announces the removal of the minister of defense, Marshal Peng De-huai.

There isn't a hearing on the decision. Mao makes the decision as if it is his right. Like removing a shoe from his foot. Before the members of the Politburo get a chance to react, Marshal Peng is replaced by Mao's disciple Marshal Lin Biao, a man who praises Mao as a living god and who is trying to turn the People's Liberation Army into the "Great School of Mao Tse-tung Thoughts."

Marshal Lin Biao is a familiar character to me. I've learned from Mao that Lin Biao won key battles during the civil war and is a man of great tactics. I don't mention that I find his recent tactics rather transparent. He is the man who shouts
A long life to Chairman Mao
the loudest. But life is strange. He is also the man who orders Mao's train bombed. In the future Mao will promote him to be his successor and will also order his murder at his own residence.

Marshal Lin has always been physically weak—the opposite of his name, which means King of the Forest. He is so thin that he can be blown by wind. His wife Ye has told me that he can't stand light, sound or water. Like a thousand-year vase, he decays from the moisture in the air. He has a pair of triangle eyes and grassy eyebrows. He tries to hide his slight frame in military uniform. Still, one can tell his sickness by the bamboo-thin neck and the lopsided head as if it weighs too much for the neck.

And yet, now, she is inspired by Lin Biao. His way of getting Mao. It is so simple and childish. It works and has great effect. Lin flatters shamelessly. In the preface to the second edition of Mao's
Little Red Quotation Book
he calls Mao the greatest Marxist of all time.
Chairman Mao defends and develops internationalism, Marxism and Leninism. Chairman Mao's one sentence equals others' ten thousand sentences. Only Mao's words reflect absolute truths. Mao is the genius born from heaven.

She has found similarities between Lin Biao and Kang Sheng when it comes to flattering Mao. Lin and Kang don't get along. She decides that for her own future she will burn incense in both of their temples.

***

It's been a long time since Mao requested my presence. When I am finally invited I find that the Chrysanthemum-Fragrance Study has changed its face. The once wild chrysanthemums have lost their firelike energy. The plants look tamed, uniformly trimmed, straight as soldiers. He doesn't bother to greet me when I enter. He is still in his pajamas. I am facing a sixty-nine-year-old balding man who hasn't washed for days. His face is a smeared drawing—there aren't any clear lines. He reminds me of a eunuch with a face of half man and half woman. Still, my heart trips over itself.

It's noon. He seems relaxed. Sit down, he says, as if we have always been close. Comrade Kang Sheng told me that you have an important idea that I should hear about.

The lines are on the tip of my tongue. I have been preparing for this. I have rehearsed the act a hundred times. But I am nervous. Am I truly finding my way back to him?

Chairman, she begins. You have pointed out at the eighth meeting in the tenth convention that there has been a tendency to use literature as a weapon to attack the Communist Party. I can't agree more. I believe that it is our enemy's intention.

He shows no expression.

She continues as if she is once again Nora on stage. I've turned my attention to a play that has recently become popular. I think the play has been used as a weapon against you.

What is it called?

Hairui Dismissed from Office.

I know the story. It is about Judge Hairui from the Ming dynasty during the ruling period of Emperor Jia-jing.

Yes, exactly. The story tells how Hairui risks his post to speak out for the people and how he heroically fights the emperor and gets purged.

I see. Mao's eyes narrow. Who is the author?

The vice mayor of Beijing, professor and historian Wu Han.

Mao turns silent.

She observes a change slowly taking place in his expression. His wrinkles stretch and squish, eyes grow into a line. She feels the moment and decides to twist the knife and press his most sensitive nerve.

Have you, Chairman, ever thought of this—why Hairui? Why a tragic hero? Why the scene where hundreds of peasants get down on their knees to bid him farewell when he is escorted into exile? If it is not a cry for Marshal Peng De-huai, what is it? If it is not saying that you are the bad Emperor Jia-jing, what is it?

Mao gets up and paces. Kang Sheng has already talked to me about the play, he suddenly turns around and speaks. Why don't you go and check into it for me? Bring back to me what you find as soon as possible.

At that moment I hear a familiar aria in my head.

Oh maiden in a palace tower
Soothing her love-laden
Like a glowworm golden
In a dell of dew
Scattering unbeholden
Its aerial hue
Soul in secret hour
With wine sweet as love
Which overflows her bower

After her report, Mao loses his composure.

I have been in power for fourteen years, he roars. And my opponents have never stopped plotting conspiracy. They wear me out. I have become the Garden of Yuanming—an empty frame. They suggest that I take vacations so they can form factions during my absence. What a fool I have been! The important posts have already been filled with their people. I can't even get through to the mayor's office.

Eagerly she responds, Yes, Chairman, that's exactly why the play
Hairui Dismissed from Office
is a hit—they have plotted the whole thing. The critics have orchestrated the play's promotion. Besides Wu Han, they include Liao Mu-sha and Deng Tuo, our country's most influential scholars.

Mao lights a cigarette and stands up from his rattan chair. His look softens for a moment. Jiang Ching, he says, many think of you as a meddler, as someone whose vision is short and feelings too strong. But you are seeing clearly now ... It's been eight years that Vice Chairman Liu has been running the country. He has already established an extensive network. Wu Han is only a gun triggered by others.

The leading actors are yet to make their appearance, she remarks.

Let them come. This morning I read an article Kang Sheng sent me. It was written by the three men whom you have just mentioned. Did they call themselves the Village of Three?