Becoming Madame Mao (6 page)

***

Mr. Shi doesn't quite know how to handle the girl. Every time he comes to visit she is out. A few times he catches her and convinces her to have tea with him. She reports her latest activity—she has already checked out all the contacts he had given her. Her mind seems to race constantly in every direction. One moment she asks him about how the buses work, how to get from one point to another by the most economical route; the next moment she wants to know where Tien Han, the playwright of
The Incident on the Lake,
lives and if she could visit him soon.

After only a week, Mr. Shi has lost his ability to track the girl. He is surprised to learn that she has already made a visit to Tien Han and is calling from his house. Not only is she staying at his house for the week, she has also gotten herself a job selling tickets at a left-wing theater. She also mentions that she has enrolled in classes at Shanghai University.

I rush from one side of town to the other. I am moving so fast that I barely have time to remember where I have been. I believe that if I meet as many people as possible something will come of it. I shoot for the top, arrive unannounced in the offices of producers and directors—I can't be rejected. I would like to star in both film and theater, I tell anyone who will listen. Some are annoyed by me. They are taken aback by my presumption. She is pretty, yes, but who is she? Others, like Mr. Tien, whose play I starred in in Shan-dong, find me attractive, and are charmed by my daring. Mr. Tien is flattered by my admiration for his work and takes an interest in me. When he learns where I am living he offers his home to me. He feeds me, gives me more contacts, and off I go again clutching my bus map.

A number of producers are encouraging. They promise to keep her in mind for their next projects. Through clouds of smoke, they describe their projects in detail and renew her hope. Attractive men with attractive ideas. There are hints of ways to "secure" her place in line. She sees it in their eyes. But she will not sleep with them. She is cautious, still nursing her lost love. She doesn't want to get involved in a relationship that will end in her being nothing better than a concubine. She sees no harm in a little flirting, though, and accepts as many invitations as come her way.

After a few months without any real offers, she gets anxious. She is back in her apartment. The noises from beyond the walls irritate her now. She is tired of being nobody and tired of being poor. She is sick of people telling her that her look is not bankable. She sits on the floor and examines her face in a palm-size mirror. She hates to confront her imperfections: her lower jaw is too protruding and her lips are thin; the distance between her nose and upper lip is a few millimeters too long.

She calculates her chances and looks for alternatives. She has heard stories of stars whose careers have soared because of their participation in small-budget political films. The idea appeals to her. She is ready to combine her acting interest with her background as a Communist. She doesn't tell people that she is a Communist, not yet. She trusts no one. At the moment she simply feels the need to separate herself from the pretty girls who are known as rich men's pets and layabout starlets.

I have little money, but I would starve myself in order to buy good theater tickets. I watch movies and operas so I can learn from the finest actresses. I can't do without going to a performance for too long. Every time I walk out of an opera I feel magically charged and all my frustrations disappear. I tell myself that lack of willpower has led to more failures than lack of intelligence or ability. I push myself to meet more people so I can advertise myself. My audience must know that I have a soul and that I live with a sense of purpose.

***

The girl is disappointed in her contacts. She doesn't want to see Mr. Shi anymore. She finds herself wasting her time running from place to place and meeting one useless person after another. The part-time job she has at the theater only makes her more hungry for acting. But nothing is working. She can't make herself stand out.

I was a one hundred percent Communist when I was young. I risked myself, Madame Mao recalls. I spread anti-Japanese leaflets throughout the city for the Party. I was in Shanghai to reconnect myself with the Party. We took patriotic plays to the streets. I taught at night school where I preached Marxism. I encouraged workers when they put on a strike. Working at the grass-roots level has always been my interest. Just like Yu Qiwei, I stuck my neck out for China. I very well might have been a martyr. I might have died.

The truth is that she ceased her membership after Yu Qiwei's arrest. The truth is that she hides her identity as an ex-Communist. Mr. Shi and Tien Han think that she is merely sympathetic toward Communism. When she has no luck getting roles in the theater she assigns herself a role: a patriot. It makes her feel less fearful about her inability to make things work.

She plays her real-life role with the same passion she brings to the stage. She catches attention and develops an audience. She does her job creatively, with flair. She puts leaflets on men's backs and makes them walking posters. In the Chinese class she teaches she asks her students, What makes the word "heaven"? She writes the character on the board and explains: It's the combination of two words, "slave" and "man." If we treat ourselves like men, and insist that others treat ourselves as such, not like slaves, we become heaven itself. She illustrates and animates. Soon her class becomes the most popular class in the school. In the meantime, she attracts unwanted attention: she is now on the list of the police as a suspected Communist.

She is not aware of what's coming. She is at peace with her life: looking for a role on stage during the day and playing a patriot at night. She sees her name mentioned in left-wing papers. It's better than nothing, she comforts herself. She keeps praying, hoping the paper will catch the attention of the studio heads. Why not? She is different. A true-life heroine, like those the studios have begun to portray in their new movies. For a movie to be successful it now has to be political. China is under invasion. The public is sick of ancient romance and is ready for inspiring roles from real life.

She is waiting, making herself available.

The night is windless. The air is moist. She is wearing a navy blue dress, walking out after the Chinese class. She is happy. The students, especially the women textile workers, have developed a close relationship with her. They trust and depend on her. They make her feel that she is a star in their lives. They have brought homemade rice cakes for her. The pieces are still warm in her bag. She will not have to make dinner tonight. Maybe she can use the time to catch the second half of her favorite opera at the Grand Theater on the way.

When she makes a turn onto a dark street she suddenly notices that she is being followed by two men. She becomes nervous and walks faster. But the men follow her like shadows. Before she is able to make a sound, she is handcuffed and pushed into a car parked down the street.

At the detention house she is dragged out of the police car and thrown into a cell with a crowd of women. The inmates are waiting to be interrogated. One cellmate explains the situation to her. Until there is a confession, we won't be released. The women cough raggedly. The cell is cold and damp. Yunhe observes that every fifteen minutes one person is thrown back into the room and another person taken away. People gather around them trying to get information. Lying naked on the ground, the women are beaten and bruised. Water drips from their hair. In choking gasps they describe the interrogation. Head dunked in hot-pepper water. Blows to the back. I don't know any Communists, one woman sobs. I wish I did so I could go home.

Yunhe is scared. Yu Qiwei had a rich uncle to bail him out and she doesn't. She feels sick. She is sure that the woman who keeps coughing has tuberculosis. The blood-streaked spit is everywhere.

Two weeks pass. Two weeks of terrible sleep. Two weeks of living in terror, knowing that her head might be removed from her shoulders at any given moment. Where is the Party? There has been no sign of rescue.

Finally it is her turn. The interrogator is a man whose face is a mask of scars. He has a massive upper body and tiny legs. Before questioning he soaks her head in a bucket of hot-pepper water.

Yunhe shuts her eyes and endures. She confesses nothing. Back in her cell she witnesses the death of a cellmate. The body is dragged out to be fed to wild dogs.

At her next interrogation, Yunhe seems to be having a nervous breakdown. She laughs hysterically and lets saliva drip from the corner of her mouth.

It's my fifteenth day in prison. I am very sick, running a high fever. I pick up my trade and begin to play the convincing role of an innocent. I sing classic operas. The entire opera from beginning to end. It is for the guards.

The autumn moon is half round above Omei Mountain
Its pale light falls in and flows with the water of the Pingchang River
In the night I leave Chingchi of the limpid stream for the three canyons
And glide down past Yucbow, thinking of you whom I cannot see

The guards feel sorry for me. They begin to respond. One suggests to his supervisor that I seem to have nothing to do with the Communists.

Yes, sir, I reply at the interrogation. I am lured by evil people.

The girl is told that she can be released under a condition: she must sign a piece of paper denouncing Communism. She hesitates but convinces herself to proceed. I'm just playing a trick with the enemy.

I have never lowered my head to an enemy, Madame Mao later says. I have never dishonored the Communist Party. The truth is that she never admits she signed the paper. Her claim is consistent for the rest of her life. People who doubt her words are put in prison.

T
O HER COMRADES YUNHE SAYS
that her release from prison was pure luck. She claims that because she had left no evidence, she was merely considered a suspect from the beginning to the end of the case. It had to do with my strong will—I could have confessed under torture, but my commitment to Communism won me victory.

In truth she knows that she has betrayed the oath. She justifies this by thinking that she is more useful to Communism alive than as a martyr.

After signing the paper, she is released. The first couple of days back in her apartment she tosses all night. She sees images of dogs attacking her cellmates. The screams from the torture chamber haunt her thoughts. After midnight she gets up and gathers together her books and magazines. She walks downstairs and throws them in the dump. During the day she avoids streets where Communist leaflets are posted. She no longer communicates with Communist friends. She finds the house noises endearing again. The sound of the husband and wife fighting next door keeps her nightmares at bay. The neighbor boy's piano becomes music from heaven. She doesn't mind the smell of burnt soy sauce from the kitchen. She lies in bed all day and she still misses Yu Qiwei.

I decide to change my name. A new name symbolizes new life. I want the name to ring my character too. Besides, changing one's name is fashionable in Shanghai. It helps one to get noticed. Some people cut out their last name so that there are two syllables instead of the traditional three. This is considered an act of rebellion. The sounds stand out by themselves. There are names that have inspired me, especially those of established writers and actresses. They are Bing-xing for Ice Heart, Xiao-yue for Smiling Moon, and Hu-dee for Butterfly.

I name myself Lan Ping.
Lan
means Blue, my favorite color, and
Ping
means Apple and sweetness. Blue associates with the images of sky, ink and myth, while Apple evokes the idea of harvest, ripeness, fruitful future and also my hometown Shan-dong, where apples are the trademark export product.

After my recuperation from prison, I start to branch out. I reconnect myself with old friends for acting opportunities. I tell people that I am committed to helping the country. A good play promotes the nation's conscience and this is what's important.

I put my will to the test. I wear my biggest smile. To take care of my blue dress I wear an old jacket. That way I feel free to push my way through crowded buses. I take the blue dress with me and change before my meetings. I change back to my old jacket after the meeting. Because my empty stomach often growls in the middle of meetings I drink a lot of water. I have to hide my feet, because they swell from walking too much.

But still there are more rejections. Everyone tells me that I am good yet I receive no offers. Many girls in the same situation give in. They go to bed with the leering men who call themselves directors or producers. I tell myself over and over that I cannot give up.

In June the girl discovers that there is an audition for an interpretive rendition of Ibsen's
Doll's House.
The director is Mr. Zhang Min, a Russian-trained theater master. She is excited the moment she hears the news. She had read Ibsen's play so many times back in school and has already memorized most of Nora's lines. Although she is aware that she has very little chance to win the role, she tells herself to try. If nothing else comes out of it, she will make an impression. She will get to meet director Zhang Min.

She registers for the audition and begins to prepare the part. She invites her neighbors to come and hear her while their soups are on the stove. She gets the ladies little stools to sit on so that they can listen to her while cutting beans and carrots.

The day of the audition she gets up early and puts on light makeup. She feels confident and comfortable. The first to arrive at the Arts Club where the audition is to take place, she chats with the doorman and finds out that there have already been three days of auditions.

The good news is that Mr. Zhang Min is still looking. The doorman winks and puts his palms together to wish the girl luck.

By nine o'clock the room is packed with young women. The director's assistants come in and begin to set up tables and chairs. After the stage is set Zhang Min appears. He already seems bored. He orders the audition to begin immediately.