Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China

by Jung Chang

  Not only were the Russians distributing goods from the factories, they were also dismantling entire factories, including Jinzhou's two oil refineries, and shipping the equipment back to the Soviet Union. They said these were 'reparations," but for the locals what this meant was that industry was crippled.

  Russian soldiers would walk into people's homes and simply take anything they fancied watches and clothes in particular. Stories about Russians raping local women swept Jinzhou like wildfire. Many women went into hiding for fear of their 'liberators." Very soon the city was seething with anger and anxiety.

  The Xias' house was outside the city walls, and was very poorly protected. A friend of my mother's offered to lend them a house inside the city gates, surrounded by high stone walls. The family decamped immediately, taking my mother's Japanese teacher with them. The move meant that my mother had to walk much farther about thirty minutes each way- to her tutor's. Dr. Xia insisted on taking her there and collecting her in the afternoon. My mother did not want him to walk so far, so she would walk part of the way back on her own and he would meet her. One day a jeep-load of laughing Russian soldiers skidded to a halt near her and the Russians jumped out and started running in her direction. She ran as fast as she could, with the Russians pounding after her. After a few hundred yards she caught sight of her stepfather in the distance, brandishing his walking stick. The Russians were close behind, and my mother turned into a deserted kindergarten she knew well, which was like a labyrinth. She hid there for over an hour and then sneaked out the back door and got home safely. Dr. Xia had seen the Russians chasing my mother into the building; to his immense relief they soon came out again, obviously baffled by the layout.

  just over a week after the Russians arrived, my mother was told by the chief of her neighborhood committee to attend a meeting the following evening. When she got there she saw a number of shabby Chinese men and a few women making speeches about how they had fought eight years to defeat the Japanese so that ordinary people could be the masters of a new China. These were Communists Chinese Communists. They had entered the city the previous day, without fanfare or warning. The women Communists at the meeting wore shapeless clothes exactly like the men. My mother thought to herself: How could you claim to have defeated the Japanese? You haven't even got decent guns or clothes. To her, the Communists looked poorer and scruffier than beggars.

  She was disappointed because she had imagined them as big and handsome, and superhuman. Her uncle Pei-o, the prison warder, and Dong, the executioner, had told her that the Communists were the bravest prisoners: "They have the strongest bones," her uncle often said.

  "They sang and shouted slogans and cursed the Japanese until the very last minute before they were strangled," said Dong.

  The Communists put up notices calling on the population to keep order, and started arresting collaborators and people who had worked for the Japanese security forces.

  Among those arrested was Yang, my grandmother's father, still deputy police chief of Yixian. He was imprisoned in his own jail and his boss, the police chief, was executed.

  The Communists soon restored order and got the economy going again. The food situation, which had been desperate, improved markedly. Dr. Xia was able to start seeing patients again, and my mother's school reopened.

  The Communists were billeted in the houses of local people. They seemed honest and unpretentious, and would chat with the families: "We don't have enough educated people," they used to say to one friend of my mother's.

  "Come and join us and you can become a county chief."

  They needed recruits. At the time of the Japanese surrender, both Communists and Kuomintang had tried to occupy as much territory as they could, but the Kuomintang had a much larger and better-equipped army. Both were maneuvering for position in preparation for renewing the civil war which had been partly suspended for the previous eight years in order to fight the Japanese. In fact, fighting between Communists and Kuomintang had already broken out. Manchuria was the crucial battleground because of its economic assets. Because they were nearby, the Communists had got their forces into Manchuria first, with virtually no assistance from the Russians. But the Americans were helping Chiang Kai-shek establish himself in the area by ferrying tens of thousands of Kuomintang troops to North China. At one point the Americans tried to land some of them at Huludao, the port about thirty miles from Jinzhou, but had to withdraw under fire from Chinese Communists. The Kuomintang troops were forced to land south of the Great Wall and make their way north by train. The United States gave them air cover. Altogether, over 50,000 US Marines landed in North China, occupying Peking and Tianjin.

  The Russians formally recognized Chiang Kai-shek's Kuomintang as the government of China. By 11 November, the Soviet Red Army had left the Jinzhou area and pulled back to northern Manchuria, as part of a commitment by Stalin to withdraw from the area within three months of victory. This left the Chinese Communists alone in control of the city. One evening in late November my mother was walking home from school when she saw large numbers of soldiers hurriedly gathering their weapons and equipment and moving in the direction of the south gate. She knew there had been heavy fighting in the surrounding countryside and guessed the Communists must be leaving.

  This withdrawal was in line with the strategy of the Communist leader Mao Zedong not to try to hold cities, where the Kuomintang would have the military advantage, but to retreat to the rural areas. "To surround the cities with our countryside and eventually take the cities' was Mao's guideline for the new phase.

  On the day after the Chinese Communists withdrew from Jinzhou, a new army entered the city the fourth in as many months. This army had clean uniforms and gleaming new American weapons. It was the Kuomintang. People ran out of their houses and gathered in the narrow mud streets, clapping and cheering. My mother squeezed her way to the front of the excited crowd. Suddenly she found she was waving her arms and cheering loudly. These soldiers really look like the army which beat the Japanese, she thought to herself. She ran home in a state of high excitement to tell her parents about the smart new soldiers.

  There was a festival atmosphere in Jinzhou. People competed to invite troops to stay in their homes. One officer came to live with the Xias. He behaved extremely respectfully, and the family all liked him. My grandmother and Dr. Xia felt that the Kuomintang would maintain law and order and ensure peace at last.

  But the goodwill people had felt toward the Kuomintang soon turned to bitter disappointment. Most of the officials came from other parts of China, and talked down to the local people, addressing them as Wang-guo-nu ("Slaves who have no country of your own') and lecturing them about how they ought to be grateful to the Kuomintang for liberating them from the Japanese. One evening there was a party at my mother's school for the students and Kuomintang officers. The three-year-old daughter of one official recited a speech which began: "We, the Kuomintang, have been fighting the Japanese for eight years and have now saved you, who were the slaves of Japan… My mother and her friends walked out.

  My mother was also disgusted by the way the Kuomintang rushed to grab concubines. By early 1946 Jinzhou was filling up with troops. My mother's school was the only girls' school in town, and officers and officials descended on it in droves in search of concubines or, occasionally, wives. Some of the girls got married willingly, while others were unable to say no to their families, who thought that marrying an officer would give them a good start in life.

  At fifteen, my mother was highly marriageable. She had grown into a very attractive and popular young woman, and she was the star pupil at her school. Several officers had already proposed, but she told her parents she did not want any of them. One, who was chief of staff of a general, threatened to send a sedan chair to carry her off after his gold bars had been refused. My mother was eavesdropping outside the door as he put this proposal to her parents.

  She burst in and told him to his face that she would kill herself in the sedan chair. Fortu
nately, not long afterward his unit was ordered out of the city.

  My mother had made up her mind to choose her own husband. She was disenchanted with the treatment of women, and hated the whole system of concubinage. Her parents supported her, but they were harassed by offers, and had to deploy intricate, nerve-racking diplomacy to find ways of saying no without unleashing reprisals.

  One of my mother's teachers was a young woman called Miss Liu, who liked her very much. In China, if people are fond of you, they often try to make you an honor an member of their family. At this time, although they were not so segregated as in my grandmother's days, there were not many opportunities for boys and girls to mix, so being introduced to the brother or sister of a friend was a common way for young people who did not like the idea of arranged marriages to get to know each other. Miss Liu introduced my mother to her brother. But first Mr. and Mrs. Liu had to approve the relationship.

  Early in 1946, my mother was invited to spend the Chinese New Year at the Lius' house, which was quite grand. Mr. Liu was one of the biggest shop owners in Jinzhou. The son, who was about nineteen, seemed to be a man of the world; he was wearing a dark-green suit with a handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket, which was tremendously sophisticated and dashing for a provincial town like Jinzhou. He was enrolled in a university in Peking, where he was reading Russian language and literature. My mother was very impressed with him, and his family approved of her. They soon sent a go-between to Dr. Xia to ask for her hand, without, of course, saying a word to her.

  Dr. Xia was more liberal than most men of his time, and asked my mother how she felt about the matter. She agreed to be a 'friend' to young Mr. Liu. At that time, if a boy and a girl were seen talking to each other in public, they had to be engaged, at the minimum. My mother was longing to have some fun and freedom, and to be able to make friends with men without committing herself to marriage.

  Dr. Xia and my grandmother, knowing my mother, were cautious with the Lius, and declined all the customary presents. In the Chinese tradition, a woman's family often did not consent to a marriage proposal immediately,-as they should not appear too keen. If they accepted presents, this implicitly indicated consent. Dr. Xia and my grandmother were worried about a misunderstanding.

  x xo "Slaves Who Have No Country of Your Own'

  My mother went out with young Liu for a while. She was rather taken with his urbanity, and all her relatives, friends, and neighbors said she had made a good match. Dr. Xia and my grandmother thought they were a handsome couple, and had privately settled on him as their son-inlaw. But my mother felt he was shallow. She noticed that he never went to Peking, but lounged around at home enjoying the life of a dilettante. One day she discovered he had not even read The Dream of the Red Chamber, the famous eighteenth-century Chinese classic, with which every literate Chinese was familiar. When she showed how disappointed she felt, young Liu said airily that the Chinese classics were not his forte, and that what he actually liked most was foreign literature. To try to reassert his superiority, he added: "Now, have you read Madame Bovary? That's my all-time favorite. I consider it the greatest of Maupassant's works."

  My mother had read Madame Bovary and she knew it was by Flaubert, not Maupassant. This vain sally put her off Liu in a big way, but she refrained from confronting him there and then to do so would have been considered 'shrewish."

  Liu loved gambling, particularly mahjongg, which bored my mother to death. One evening soon afterward, in the middle of a game, a female servant came in and asked: "Which maid would Master Liu like to serve him in bed?" In a very casual way, Liu said "So-and-so." My mother was shaking with anger, but all Liu did was to raise his eyebrow as though he was surprised at her reaction.

  Then he said in a supercilious way: "This is a perfectly common custom in Japan. Everybody does it. It's called si-qin ("bed with service")." He was trying to make my mother feel she was being provincial and jealous, which was traditionally regarded in China as one of the worst vices in a woman, and grounds for a husband to disown his wife. Once again my mother said nothing, even though she was boiling with rage inside.

  My mother decided she could not be happy with a husband who regarded flirtations and extramarital sex as essential aspects of 'being a man." She wanted someone who loved her, who would not want to hurt her by doing this sort of thing. That evening she made up her mind to end the relationship.

  A few days later Mr. Liu senior suddenly died. In those days a spectacular funeral was very important, particularly if the dead person had been the head of the family. A funeral which failed to meet the expectations of the relatives and of society would bring disapproval on the family.

  The Lius wanted an elaborate ceremony, not simply a procession from the house to the cemetery. Monks were brought in to read the Buddhist sutra of' putting the head down' in the presence of the whole family. Immediately after this, the family members burst out crying. From then to the day of the burial, on the forty-ninth day after the death, the sound of weeping and wailing was supposed to be heard nonstop from early morning until midnight, accompanied by the constant burning of artificial money for the deceased to use in the other world. Many families could not keep up this marathon, and hired professionals to do the job for them. The Lius were too filial to do this, and did all the keening themselves, with the help of relatives, of whom there were many.

  On the forty-second day after his death, the corpse which had been put in a beautifully carved sandalwood coffin was placed in a marquee in the courtyard. On each of the last seven nights before his interment the dead man was supposed to ascend a high mountain in the other world and look down on his whole family; he would only be happy if he saw that every member of his family was present and taken care of. Otherwise, it was believed, he would never find rest. The family wanted my mother to be there as the intended daughter-in-law.

  She refused. She felt sad for old Mr. Liu, who had been kind to her, but if she attended, she would never be able to get out of marrying his son. Relays of messengers from the Liu family came to the Xia house.

  Dr. Xia told my mother that breaking her relationship at this moment was tantamount to letting Mr. Liu senior down, and that this was dishonorable. Although he would not have objected to my mother breaking up with young Mr. Liu normally, he felt that under the circumstances her wishes should be subordinated to a higher imperative. My grandmother also thought she should go. In addition she said, "Who ever heard of a girl rejecting a man because he got the name of some foreign writer wrong, or because he had affairs? All rich young men like to have fun and sow their wild oats. Besides, you have no need to worry about concubines and maids. You're a strong character; you can keep your husband under control."

  This was not my mother's idea of the life she wanted, and she said so. In her heart, my grandmother agreed. But she was frightened about keeping my mother at home because of the persistent proposals from Kuomintang officers, "We can say no to one, but not to all of them," she told my mother.

  "If you don't marry Zhang, you will have to accept Lee.

  Think it over: isn't Liu much better than the others? If you marry him, no officer will be able to bother you anymore. I worry day and night about what may happen to you. I won't be able to rest until you leave the house." But my mother said she would rather die than marry someone who could not give her happiness and love.

  The Lius were furious with my mother, and so were Dr. Xia' and my grandmother. For days they argued, pleaded, cajoled, shouted, and wept, to no avail. Finally, for the first time since he had hit her as a child for sitting in his seat on the kang, Dr. Xia flew into a rage with my mother.

  "What you are doing is bringing shame on the name of Xia. I don't want a daughter like you!" My mother stood up and flung back the words: "All right, then, you won't have a daughter like me. I'm leaving!" She stormed out of the room, packed her things, and left the house.

  In my grandmother's time, leaving home like this would have been out of the question. The
re were no jobs for women, except as servants, and even they had to have references. But things had changed. In 1946 women could live on their own and find work, like teaching or medicine, although working was still regarded as the last resort by most families. In my mother's school was a teacher training department which offered free board and tuition for girls who had completed three years in the school. Apart from an exam, the only condition for entry was that the graduates had to become teachers. Most pupils in the department were either from poor families who could not afford to pay for an education or people who did not think they had a chance to get into a university, and therefore did not want to stay on at the normal high school. It was only since 1945 that women could contemplate getting into a university; under the Japanese, they could not go beyond high school, where they were mainly taught how to run a family.

  Up till now my mother had never considered going to this department, which was generally looked down on as second best. She had always thought of herself as university material. The department was a lit He surprised when she applied, but she persuaded them of her fervent wish to join the teaching profession. She had not yet finished her obligatory three years in the school, but she was known as a star pupil. The department gladly took her after giving her an exam which she passed with little difficulty. She went to live in the school. It was not long before my grandmother rushed over to beg her to come home. My mother was glad to have a reconciliation; she promised she would go home and stay often. But she insisted on keeping her bed on the campus; she was determined not to be dependent on anyone, however much they loved her. For her, the department was ideal. It guaranteed her a job after graduation, whereas university graduates often could not find jobs. Another advantage was that it was free and Dr. Xia was already beginning to suffer the effects of the mismanagement of the economy.

  The Kuomintang personnel put in charge of the factories those that had not been dismantled by the Russians were conspicuously unsuccessful at getting the economy moving again. They got a few factories working at well below full capacity, but pocketed most of the revenue themselves.