by Cheng Nien
We mounted the stairs in silence with our arms around each other’s waist. I accompanied her to her bedroom. At least there everything was still just as it had been. I sat down in the armchair while she went into her bathroom. When we came out, Lao-zhao had already cleared a space in my study and laid out a folding bridge table in preparation for dinner. The cook had managed to produce a noodle dish with a delicious meat sauce served with green peas. I did not know how exhausted and hungry I was until I started to eat.
While we were eating, I told my daughter that the liaison officer had said that I would be left basic furniture and utensils necessary for a simple life, the same as that of an ordinary worker. I would ask for the second floor of the house and give the rest to the government for other families. We would have my bedroom and bathroom, Meiping’s bedroom and bathroom, and the study. It would be enough for us. To be able to plan and look ahead was good. I was already resigned to a lower standard of living. It would be a novelty and probably quite pleasant not to have too many things to look after. The human spirit is resilient, and I was by nature optimistic.
I noticed that as I talked about my plan for the future, Meiping became visibly more relaxed. She told me that in addition to appointing liaison officers to supervise the Red Guards, the Shanghai Party Secretariat and the municipal government had passed a Ten-Point Resolution stressing the importance of protecting cultural relics and pointing out that it was against the Constitution to ransack private homes. Lao-zhao stopped what he was doing to listen, and Chen-ma came out of my bedroom and clapped. They were comforted by this piece of good news. But what I had seen of the behavior of the Red Guards and what they said about revisionist officials in the government made me skeptical of the extent to which the Ten-Point Resolution was enforceable.
I knew my daughter was worried about me, as she kept looking at me anxiously. To put her mind at ease, I told her how I had lost all my possessions in Chongqing during the Sino-Japanese War.
“It happened in Chongqing in the summer of 1941. Daddy and I were about to leave for Canberra with the first group of Chinese diplomats and their families to open the new Chinese legation there. Two days before we were scheduled to leave, we had a prolonged and severe air raid. A bomb landed on the tennis court right in front of our house. The blast tore off the roof, and part of the house collapsed,” I said.
“Goodness! Where were you?” my daughter asked.
“I was in the shelter under the house. Daddy was in the shelter at his office. The shelters in Chongqing were deep caves dug into mountainsides, very deep and quite safe.”
“Did you lose everything in the house?”
“Fortunately we had put the packed suitcases under the stairs when the alarm sounded. The stairs collapsed and buried the suitcases underneath. We managed to dig three of them out. Of course they were in a terrible state. When we got to Hong Kong we had to buy everything all over again. We didn’t have time to get the furniture out of the rubble. To this day, I have no idea what happened to it,” I told her. “So you see, we did in fact lose almost everything we had.”
“You never told me any of this.”
“It happened such a long time ago, before you were born, when I was not much older than you are now. I had actually forgotten all about it. It was the looting by the Red Guards that made me remember it again.”
“Oh, Mommy, how could you have forgotten something terrible like that? You lost everything!”
“Yes, I did forget. But it was wartime. People were being bombed out all over the place. Bad experience is more bearable when you are not the only sufferer.”
“I’ll never forget how our house looks today, not in a million years,” my daughter said.
“It’s always best to look ahead and not backwards. Possessions are not important. Think of those beautiful porcelain pieces I had. Before they came to me, they had all passed through the hands of many people, surviving wars and natural disasters. I got them only because someone else lost them. While I had them, I enjoyed them; now some other people will enjoy them. Life itself is transitory. Possessions are not important.”
“I’m glad you are so philosophical,” she said, smiling for the first time since she had come home. “Of course, we must not let our happiness be dependent on possessions. We still have each other. We can be happy together even if we are poor.”
“We won’t be poor. I have already told you about the assets abroad. We will always be better off than most others in China. You are worn out. I can see dark shadows under your eyes. You had better try to get some rest.”
Meiping sat on in silence for a while longer, lost in thought. When she stood up, she declared, “Mommy, we will weather the storm together. I still believe in the future of our country. Things will change. They can’t always be unfair like this. There are good leaders in the Party, such as Premier Zhou and many others.”
“Well, I wonder what they are doing now, allowing so many innocent people to suffer.”
“Don’t lose heart! Surely they will do something when the time comes. I love China! I love my country even though it is not always good or right,” my daughter proclaimed in a firm voice.
Her words brought tears to my eyes. I also had a deep and abiding love for the land of my ancestors even though, because of my class status, I had become an outcast.
4
House Arrest
I WOKE TO THE SOUND of a heavy downpour. After a while the rain settled into a steady drizzle. The wet garden, littered with ashes and half-burned books, was a sorrowful sight. I stood on the terrace contemplating this depressing scene and wondering what to do.
The morning passed slowly. There was no sign of the Red Guards. I wandered around the house aimlessly. There was no book to read. On the bookshelves covering two walls of my study only the four slim volumes of The Collected Works of Mao Zedong and the small book of his quotations in the red plastic cover remained. I couldn’t do any sewing or knitting; the Red Guards had so messed everything up that I did not know where my knitting wool or needles and thread were. I couldn’t write a letter or draw a picture; all the paper and envelopes were torn, and I did not know where my pen was. I couldn’t listen to the radio, as the radio sets in the house were locked up with the “valuables.” I could only sit there staring at the huge pile of debris in each room that we didn’t dare to remove.
In the afternoon the rain stopped and the sun came out. Several parades passed the house, but none of the Red Guards came back. Lao-zhao brought me the Shanghai Liberation Daily, which always came out in the afternoon though it was a morning paper. On its front page, in bold type, was reprinted a lead article from the People’s Daily in Beijing, the official organ of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. Since all Chinese newspapers were government-owned and voiced government policy, especially the People’s Daily, I recognized the importance of this article and read it carefully. Written in stirring revolutionary language, it seemed superficially to be aimed at stimulating hatred for the capitalist class and rallying the masses to join in the activities of the Cultural Revolution. But I noticed that the article also made the claim that officials of the Party and government administration in many parts of China had pursued a capitalist line of policy opposed to Mao Zedong’s teachings. The writer called these unnamed officials “capitalist-roaders.” The “revolutionary masses,” the article said, must identify these enemies, because “our Great Leader Chairman Mao trusts the revolutionary masses and has said their eyes are bright and clear as snow.”
The article warned the “revolutionary masses” that the capitalist class was cunning, and alleged that its members hoarded gold and secreted weapons in their homes so that when an attack against China came from abroad they could cooperate with the enemy to become a fifth column. It praised the revolutionary action of the Red Guards, calling them “little revolutionary generals.” In conclusion, the article mentioned the existence of a “countercurrent” against the Cultural Revolution and the Red Guards. I
t warned everybody to beware of this countercurrent and to avoid being influenced by it. Those “capitalist-roaders” who had a consistent “revisionist” outlook and tried to “protect” the capitalist class would be dealt with by the “revolutionary masses” and be swept away onto the rubbish heap of history.
The article was frighteningly irresponsible because no clear definition was offered either of the “revolutionary masses” who were to identify the enemies and punish them or of the “capitalist-roaders” who were to be the victims. The article left me in no doubt that Mao Zedong and his specially selected committee to conduct the Cultural Revolution intended to expand the scope of their attack and increase the degree of violence against those they had listed as victims. The chilling tone of the article could not be ignored. Since a lead article in the People’s Daily was to be obeyed immediately, the tempo of the Cultural Revolution in Shanghai was sure to accelerate. The Party Secretariat and the municipal government would be quite unable to implement the Ten-Point Resolution. I expected the Red Guards to come back soon, and I expected their attitude to become even more hostile and intransigent. I thought it was only fair to urge my servants to leave my house and go back to their own homes.
The cook said that since he did not live in, he could come and go freely until the Red Guards told him to stay away. Lao-zhao said, “I’m not afraid to remain. You need someone to go to the market to buy food. It’s not safe for you to go out. I am from a poor peasant family. My son is in the army and is a Party member. We are the true proletariat. The Red Guards have already smashed and confiscated everything. What else can they do? If they tell me to leave, I must go. Otherwise, I will stay.” Chen-ma wept and said she wanted to stay with my daughter.
At a time like this, the loyalty of my servants was something very noble. I was deeply moved. I did not insist on their leaving immediately, because having them in the house was better than waiting for the Red Guards alone. However, after the cook had bought me some paper from the market, I wrote to Chen-ma’s daughter, who lived in another province. I told her to come and get her mother. I felt more responsible for Chen-ma than for the cook and Lao-zhao.
When my daughter came home with the news that the municipal government building was besieged by Red Guards demanding the immediate withdrawal of the Ten-Point Resolution, denounced as a document offering protection to the capitalist class, I was not surprised. She also told me that a longtime associate of Jiang Qing, Mao’s wife, had been appointed to conduct the Cultural Revolution in Shanghai.
“His name is Zhang Chunqiao. Someone at our film studio said that he was a journalist in Shanghai in the thirties when Jiang Qing was an actress. Those in the studio who used to know them both are terrified. Some of them have packed their bags in preparation for going to jail. They seem to believe Zhang Chunqiao will put them under detention to prevent them from talking about him and Jiang Qing in the thirties. Mommy, do you think those innocent actresses and actors will really go to jail?” My daughter was both puzzled and shocked by what she had heard at her film studio. Not knowing anything about Shanghai in the thirties, I had no idea what Jiang Qing and Zhang Chunqiao were afraid of or what the actresses and actors at the film studio knew about them that was so dangerous.
“Can you stay at home tonight?” I asked, as I hoped to spend a quiet evening with her to talk over the situation.
“I’m afraid not, Mommy. I really dashed home just to see how you are and whether the Red Guards had come back. The others are all remaining at the studio. An urgent meeting has been called to discuss an important article in the People’s Daily. I was told it was written by someone close to Chairman Mao, so it is very important and represents Chairman Mao’s viewpoint,” she said hurriedly and looked at her watch. “Goodness! I must run!”
Lao-zhao brought her a bowl of noodles and said, “Eat some of it. It has been cooled. You can’t go without food.”
My daughter took the chopsticks and put some noodles into her mouth, swallowed, and said to Lao-zhao, “Thanks a lot. I really must go.”
She gave me a hug and dashed out of the house. I had much to say to her, but there was no time to say anything.
Lao-zhao brought me his transistor radio so that I could listen to the evening news. Every station I could get was broadcasting the lead article of the People’s Daily. The announcer read it in the excited, high-pitched voice I would come to know well during the following years. I left the radio on in the hope of hearing some other item of news, but there was nothing else. By the time I fell into an uneasy sleep, I had listened to the article so many times that I almost knew it by heart.
The next morning, the cook brought the news that there was very little food at the market, as the peasants from the surrounding countryside, who used to bring in vegetables, fish, and shrimp had answered Chairman Mao’s call and joined the ranks of the “revolutionary masses” to take part in the Cultural Revolution. They had come into the city in large numbers and occupied several hotels in the business section of Shanghai. Their leaders demanded, and got, from the frightened hotel managers free food and service. As news of the luxury of hot running water, innerspring mattresses, and carpeted floors filtered back to the communes, women and children accompanied the men to the city to seize the opportunity for a free holiday. In the meantime, Red Guards were arriving at the railway station from Beijing and other northern cities to “exchange revolutionary experiences” with the Shanghai Red Guards. At the same time, the Shanghai Red Guards were traveling to Beijing in the hope of being reviewed by Chairman Mao. The Red Guards commandeered trains and ships for their transport, leaving normal passengers and goods stranded at stations and wharves. Nobody dared to oppose the Red Guards. Since the mention of “capitalist-roaders” in the lead article of the People’s Daily, the officials were paralyzed with fear.
The denunciation of its Ten-Point Resolution put the Shanghai municipal government on the defensive. To avoid giving any further cause for complaint, it provided free meals for the incoming and outgoing Red Guards. Food stalls were set up at the railway station and wharves. All the shops making steamed buns and the former White Russian bakeries, now state-owned, were mobilized to produce buns and bread for the Red Guards. Determined to find fault with the Shanghai officials, the Red Guards denounced the Western-style bread made by the bakeries as “foreign food” and refused to eat it. At the same time, factory workers decided to join the “revolutionary masses” by organizing their own Cultural Revolution groups. To embarrass the Shanghai officials, they made extravagant economic demands. To protect themselves and win support, the officials authorized payments of bonuses and benefits to the workers. After only a few days, the cash reserves of the local banks were exhausted. The workers whose demands were not met became so infuriated that they joined the Red Guards in attacking the municipal government and its leading officials. Behind all these activities of the Red Guards and the workers against the municipal government was the hand of Zhang Chunqiao, who directed their revolutionary activities from the comfort of a suite of rooms at the Peace Hotel, which became the temporary headquarters of the Maoist leaders when they came to Shanghai, until the Shanghai Party Secretariat and the municipal government were toppled by the Revolutionaries in January of the following year.
A few of my daughter’s friends were high school teachers. Because they also wore the red armband, they could drop in to see us without attracting undue attention. Lao-zhao also took the opportunity of the lull in the Red Guards’ activities against me to visit his friends and mingle with the crowds on the streets. The cook’s son, a factory worker, paid his father a visit and told him the conditions at his place of work. The stories they related were so astonishing and the reluctance of the Shanghai Party and government officials to exercise their power was so unusual that I began to wonder whether there wasn’t something more to the Cultural Revolution than its declared purpose of destroying the remnants of the capitalist class and purifying the ranks of officials and intellectuals.
One day Xiao Xu, a schoolteacher friend of Meiping’s, came to our house to see her when she was away at the film studio. He told me that the Red Guards had dismantled the Catholic cathedral’s twin spires, which were a landmark in Shanghai. During the night, he said, the Red Guards had broken into the Shanghai municipal library and destroyed a large number of valuable books. When they went to the historical museum, they failed to break down the strong iron gate. So they went to the home of its director and dragged the old man from his sickbed to a struggle meeting.
“The old man is now in the hospital. Some say he has died already. The Red Guards are getting quite wild. I think you should take Meiping and try to escape to Hong Kong,” he said.
“Do you think Meiping would want to go?” I asked him this question because once when he was at our house, just before I was to make a trip to Hong Kong, both he and my daughter said they would never want to live as second-class citizens in colonial Hong Kong.
“The situation is different now. After the Cultural Revolution, young people from non-working-class family backgrounds will have no future in China at all. In the past, if we worked twice as hard as the young people of the working class and expected no advancement, we could have a reasonably happy private life. In the future, we will be like the untouchables in India, whose children and children’s children suffer too. The only way out is to escape. You have many friends abroad. Why don’t you take Meiping and go?” he urged me.
“I think it’s too late to escape now. You know the penalty for attempting to escape to Hong Kong is very serious, something like ten or twenty years in prison,” I said.
“It’s not too late. I have made some investigations. The whole railway system is in a state of confusion. No one buys a ticket or has a travel permit anymore. Red Guards are going all over the country by just getting on a train. No one asks any questions. I have been to both the station and the wharf. There are no ticket collectors at either place. No one in authority at all.”
