by Lin Zhe
I looked down at the patches on my clothing and thought of each and every one of the familiar faces of the neighbors around us. Dimly I imagined Rongmei’s little eyes. She was always looking at me, my Shanghai candy wrappers, my leather shoes, and piece after piece of my fine silk clothing, in envy of something she could gaze at but never attain. All the West Gate children looked at me like that. Our family had money. Grandma’s children were all government officials. From birth I wasn’t like these other children. But today my clothes were shabbier than what Rongmei was wearing. How could I go out into the street? I had never before washed a single dish or handkerchief. Why did they want me to wash clothing?
Grandma was still looking at me with her silent and helpless expression. Big Aunt was quite confident she could bring me out there. Several mouths in turn poured sounds into my ears, but the whole thing was just impossible. At this moment I really did become the teenage heroine, Liu Hulan. I had never studied the words “Death before Submission” in school, but I had that “Death before Submission” spirit.
The battle of wills went on for quite a while. Big Aunt slapped the table top with her hand and got up. “Go out and do the washing! Today we’ll see who’s fierce, you or we grown-ups.”
“I’m not going wash clothes! I’m not going to do it!” I dashed back into my room intending to change into my own clothes.
Big Aunt again came to coax and cajole me. I cried and wanted her to compensate me for my hair. I also hurled some bad words at her. Young Aunt angrily pushed open the door, picked me right up, and threw me outside the gate. My two feet had no sooner touched the ground when I leapt back into the house. Back and forth the struggle went. All this movement in our house attracted a lot of attention from people passing by. The tragedy I had most worried about now happened—Rongmei was standing under the tree looking in! When she understood what was going on, she rolled back her sleeves to help me wash the clothes. In a fit of total exasperation, I dashed my head against the wall. Younger Uncle lifted me up and, pressing me down on the bench, gave me a few good slaps. This heavy-handed repression fueled my resistance all the more. I jumped up and to everyone’s surprise lifted up the heavy Eight Immortals table.
Immediately the whole house fell silent. Several faces were shaking in disapproval at me as if to say: “This child is done for. We can’t save her.”
Grandma bent over and picked up the smashed teacups from the floor. “You all just go now. Dad will be coming back soon.”
My two uncles looked at each other. They still felt a little diffident in front of their daddy. “The Lin family problems come from Dad. The revolutionizing of ideology has to begin with him!”
When Grandpa returned, I was in my own room just crying and crying. The things that had happened today were just too brutal for a delicately brought up and pampered girl like me. In my grievance over the wrong done to me, in my misery and fright, I was like a little dog used to being petted and spoiled by its master but which now had been cast out into the streets. I couldn’t figure out what was going on in this world. All along I had thought that my two uncles loved me more than they loved their own children. Whenever they came back from travel assignments they would give me gifts even better than what they gave my cousins. Their wives, my two aunts, often yelled at and even struck their children, but they always greeted me with smiles. I still didn’t know there was a feeling called sympathy, but they sympathized with me for being a fatherless child. How come just overnight they didn’t love me anymore? I felt hurt beyond measure.
A meeting was going on in the main hall which was separated from my room by a single wall. Their attitude toward Grandpa was very restrained, so I couldn’t make out much of what was being said.
Suddenly my grandfather let out a thunderous, earsplitting roar. “Get the hell out of here, all of you! Get out! I don’t want to see you again!”
I stopped my crying and sat up, terribly frightened.
My uncles and aunts left. Mother, after crying herself dry, finally went too. The house at West Gate was deathly silent.
Those days, my younger uncle, Baoqing, would come back to West Gate to give money to Grandpa and Grandma for their living expenses. Big Uncle Baosheng entrusted his portion of this allowance to Younger Uncle. Baoqing would call out “Dad!” whenever he came in and went out. My grandfather just sat there resting, eyes closed, cultivating an inner tranquility, and paid no attention to his son. I saw that when Younger Uncle turned and left he had flecks of tears in his eyes. I felt terribly guilty and regretted not obeying him that day about washing the clothes. I was sorry that I had blown the whole thing up into something so big that the family was split every which way over me. The veil of the Lin family’s warm feelings of tenderness and affection had been lifted aside and the arrangements of life utterly changed. The heart of a little girl in grade one of primary school filled with contrition and guilt.
Only after Grandpa died did I hear about that conversation concerning faith and belief. The second-generation Lins were each and every one a Communist Party member. Even finicky and crybaby Baohua entered the party while serving in the army. They tried to educate Grandpa on atheism, and this enraged him. He is buried in the Lin ancestral grounds. That’s where Grandpa’s father and his father’s wives sleep their long sleep. His Elder Brother and Big Sister-in-Law are also there. My younger uncle Baoqing bought a good-quality granite headstone for Grandpa and he asked the carver to carve a cross on it to show his respect for Grandpa’s beliefs. As for himself, he hoped that when the day came, his son would give him a party flag. He was a loyal and sincere party member.
The affair was over and the situation changed. The incident of the clothes washing became a dinner table condiment every time I returned to visit my family and relatives. No one knew this had left an indelible mark upon me and became a personality flaw that I have never been able to overcome. I frequently, and in ways impossible to explain, plunge into compunction and guilt. Certain situations make me irresolute and hesitant and I always suspect that I have done things wrong. I’ve gone to psychiatrists and under hypnosis recalled every detail of that Sunday. I have cried myself red-eyed until my insides felt like they were being sliced to bits.
2.
HOME HAD GROWN cold and cheerless. More and more, Grandpa would just sit in the main hall, his eyes closed, in a state of spiritual recuperation. Our little pussycat was also old and didn’t like to move around, preferring to nestle against its master’s body and join in this eyes-shut repose. Every once in a while my grandfather’s hand would unconsciously stroke the cat’s back, and each time the animal would raise its eyelids sluggishly and repay him with a look of happiness and gratitude. Pussycat knew nothing of the affairs of the human world and could not feel the heavy clouds roiling and churning within its master nor the tense atmosphere around us. I was one year younger than the cat, but my every pore sensed the shapeless oppression that spread throughout our home. Grandma crept about as if on eggshells and when she spoke she frequently raised her index finger and put it to her mouth. This made everything all the more tense, as if Grandpa, sitting off by himself, eyes closed and spiritually gone away, were like some tiger gathering its forces before springing forth.
Red Guards and big character posters were out on the streets now. I still went to school every day, book bag on my back. I would invite Rongmei from next door to accompany me and we would go to the church to get Chaofan to join us. Not long after my short haircut, the church ceased to be a church. Families were now continuously moving in to take up residence there. Inside the wooden fence clothes of all colors had been laid out to dry in the sun. It was a scene of indescribable clamor and disorder.
Once beyond our gate I could feel my joys revive. I even felt more joyous than I had previously, for the teacher wasn’t checking attendance or looking at assignments. We could arrive late or just skip school entirely. We lurched and staggered as we poked our way along. Along the streets was bonfire after bonfire into which
people were throwing books, calligraphy scrolls, and fine silks and satins. Even though Rongmei’s daddy was a mute, he knew about destroying the “Four Olds.”53 He took the home’s drinking glasses with their painted little ladies and serving maids and smashed them publicly on the street. Chaofan, who had just begun to learn about stamp collecting, picked up many valuable stamps from these fires. I only had eyes for candy wrappers and I was able to get quite a few of these too.
Every day there were fresh and exciting things going on. The whole world had changed into a reckless playground where you could do whatever you pleased. People were pulled into the street to be “struggled.” Among the surrounding onlookers we were like little fish darting in and out through the eyes of the net. We saw rebel factions cut the hair off of old ladies of the landlord class, and we followed along clapping and cheering. We were a little audience in a playhouse with no idea whatsoever that the plot on the stage would change the lives of our own families.
Red Guards came to West Lake Primary School to develop Little Red Soldiers organizations. Two rows of tables were set up along opposing sides of the athletic field and our classmates were racing to sign up to join. The chaos on the school grounds was wildly arousing. In the midst of such a commotion who wouldn’t have worked hard to worm a way in? As I lined up, I noticed that the two registration points were different Red Guard factions. One called itself East Sea and the other, Front Line. The Little Red Soldiers they recruited were also divided into two factions. Under the basket of the basketball court those two factions of Little Red Soldiers who had just received red armbands were viciously arguing with each other, each side cursing the other for being royalists, that is, supporters of the current leading cadres at all levels of government. I turned around to find Chaofan. I wanted to join the same group as he did. After some serious thought, Chaofan said, “‘Front Line’ sounds more revolutionary.” So together we became “Front Line” Little Red Soldiers.
Once the armbands of Little Red Soldiers were put on, the games really got going. I joined in hooting and jeering and spitting at the East Sea Little Red Soldiers. We shouted ourselves hoarse reviling them as the royalist faction. It really felt as if I were feeding some craving! Grandpa and Grandma had painstakingly formed their granddaughter into their golden branch and jade leaf. At home even the word “I” could not leave my mouth—I had to call myself Hong’er. All these commandments and taboos were like a cocoon encasing my body and today I broke forth from that cocoon. The rebellious nature in my blood was completely released and, like a bird, went soaring along to its heart’s content.
As I returned to West Gate, off in the distance I could see Grandma standing under the tree waiting for me. The bird soaring through the skies landed on the ground, came forward, and nicely said, “Ah Ma, Hong’er’s home from school.”
Dinner was served. As always, I called Grandpa to the table. He opened his eyes and looked at me. His stare at my arm quickly felt like a nail being driven in. “Take that off.”
“Why?”
“Take that off!”
“No!”
Grandpa gazed at me impassively then closed his eyes again. He didn’t come to the table this meal. Those days he often fasted. Grandma sat at the table to keep me company while I ate. She herself didn’t touch her chopsticks.
Ninth Brother sat there, eyes closed but spiritually still in turmoil. His thoughts were as tangled as hemp. From time to time he would ask himself what he had done wrong to make his children raise the bamboo staves of rebellion. Sometimes anger would fill his heart. He saw Baosheng and Baoqing’s so-called atheism not as something derived from knowing or thinking about truth, but from currying favor with those in power, and he despised such petty people.
That day Baoqing’s wife, Fangzi, had said, “Dad, you have already harmed us badly enough. Every time our political backgrounds are checked, we just can’t get around you. Don’t harm us anymore!” These words enraged the doctor and he slammed the table, telling them to get the hell out of his sight. Those were just angry words that slipped out of him and he looked forward to the next time they all got together. That’s when he would distribute the gifts stuffed under the bed and restore the atmosphere of harmony in this family. Several months had passed but the two daughters-in-law had not shown their faces at West Gate. Previously the Lins held one or two big family reunions every month. New Year’s, festivals, the third generation’s birthdays—all were pretexts for getting together. He never expected that the big Lin reunions would actually become such a vague and uncertain anticipation. He didn’t speak to Second Sister about this. Toward Baosheng and Baoqing he still maintained his reserve.
Again it was Sunday. After the church had been disbanded, the doctor didn’t stop reading the scriptures, praying, and praising God, and he was just then reading the Bible when Baosheng and Baoqing arrived back at West Gate.
Baoqing stood beside his dad and rubbed his hand along the rattan chair his father was sitting on. “This chair ought to be replaced.”
The doctor accepted the olive branch of peace his son offered him and a current of warmth flowed through him. “No need to replace it. Just ask the rattan man to come fix it. This was your birthday present to me the year you returned from Korea.”
This was the first time in several months his dad had said anything to Baoqing. Baoqing felt so grateful that his nose started to tingle.
Baosheng kept the fire going: “Dad, you’ve gotten thin. So has Ma. You shouldn’t be so economical,” he said.
In a flash, the ice pack in his heart melted. He stood up and went into the inner room to let his tears flow as freely as they would. He took that bag of gifts from under the bed, and all smiles, went back into the main hall and placed the gifts one by one on the Eight Immortals table. “This one’s for Su’er, this is for Wei’er. Here, this is for you, and here’s one for you…”
The two brothers looked at each other, at a total loss as to what to do. Today they had arranged to return to the West Gate home to carry out a thorough cleanup. Sooner or later, this house would be a target of a Red Guard rebel faction sweep, and they would be sure to find proof that the Lins were reactionaries. But now, with all of this in front of them, how could they get started?
The ice pack in his heart had thawed. The father and sons were reconciled. Second Sister joyfully rushed back and forth, conjuring up several types of appetizers and a heated wine pot. She waved her sons to come over and share some cups with their dad.
His face wreathed in his long-absent smile, the doctor brought out the photographs he had taken on his trip and told the stories behind each one. In one breath, all the talk that had been bottled up within him for several months now poured out.
This meal lasted for two hours. Afterward he took his towel and soap and got ready to go for a soak. It had already been a long time since he had gone to East Gate hot springs bathhouse.
The two brothers kept signaling to each other with their eyes. As their father was about to go out the gate, Baosheng screwed up his courage and said, “Dad, we want to have a chat with you.”
The doctor sensed that something not good was connected with this visit by his two sons and his heart sank. He sat back down in the rattan chair and closed his eyes.
Baosheng and Baoqing spoke very carefully about the current situation in Old Town from the larger perspective of the whole country. They wanted to persuade their dad to agree to begin clearing out all the proof of his once having been a reactionary. To their complete surprise, he quickly nodded his head in agreement. Then the two sons opened a big hempen sack they had prepared for this task and began to go through all the trunks and cabinets. The “proof of reactionary guilt” of this family turned out to be far more than they had imagined: photos of dad wearing a Guomindang army uniform, the photo of him with the foreigners Mr. and Mrs. Qiao, a Guomindang Party flag, and Baohua’s primary school Youth Corps group photo. Every piece of this evidence could land the Lin family members on the killing gr
ound. As the brothers cleaned everything up, cold sweat poured out of them and they rejoiced at having caught all this in time.
The hempen sack was now stuffed full. Second Sister also found two big cloth bags and they filled those too. Now, how were they going to destroy all this evidence of their political crimes? If they hefted it on their shoulders and went out onto the street in the middle of night and happened to run into Red Guards, wouldn’t that be the same as throwing themselves into a net? Nor would it be safe if they just tossed it out the back door into the city moat where somebody could quite possibly drag it out of the water. Second Sister thought of Shuiguan’s son, Ah Ming. When Ah Ming was small, Ninth Brother had paid all his school fees. Now he was the leader of the West Gate rebel faction. Asking his help would be the safest thing to do. Baosheng and Baoqing remembered that on the eve of Liberation, when the Guomindang were catching members of the underground Party, Enchun had hidden at Shuiguan’s house. The two brothers supported their Ma’s suggestion.
Ah Ming came over and told them that several times the rebel faction had wanted to raid the Lin home, so he had just gone through the motions. He told his father to get this secret information to Uncle Lin. His father had said that since the Lins were a revolutionary family there would be no problem, and luckily the ideological consciousness of the two brothers was high. As he spoke, Ah Ming pulled a sleeve badge out of his pocket and put it on. The three of them together carried all the evidence out of the house and burnt it at the West Gate street crossing.
