by Hua Bai
technician, he did not have time to clean the theater, and as manager I could easily assign myself this task. To avoid damaging his enthusiasm for the job, I said, “I know it’s not easy to take care of the work upstairs. I’ll take complete charge of everything downstairs. You can plan your spare time around your hobby.”
“I love writing poetry.”
“Then go ahead and write.” The complicated relationship
between the ruler and the ruled, and between the cooperators, was solved with a few words. He never expected it
could be so simple. He even felt he had wasted a cannon ball to kill a mosquito, that he had taken me for an airplane and wasted his energy in detecting, calculating, aiming, and the like.
The first big event after I assumed office was a memorial meeting for the late manager. The county attached enormous importance to it. Not only would the chief of the
Bureau of Education give a memorial speech and the vice
secretary of the county committee be present, but representatives from all walks of life in the county would also
attend. All of them had seen movies and received education 3 1 5
Bai Hua.book Page 316 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
in the theater under Ding’s charge, though few of them had known he was the manager. People saw him only sweeping
inside and outside. Even a child of three would call him old Ding, as did the first secretary of the county. My task was to draw his posthumous portrait. For this purpose, I collected three of his pictures: one was a landscape where the trees were clear but the man was a blur; another was a scene from the Cultural Revolution – with Ding kneeling at the theater entrance. It was pretty clear, but his face was invisible, as he was not allowed to lift his head; the last one, taken on his deathbed, did present his face clearly. But even after my beautification, he still looked haggard and miserable. But when I sent it to the Bureau of Education and Propaganda Department for approval, all the leaders praised me to the skies, saying it caught not only his image but also his spirit.
The memorial meeting started at two o’clock in the afternoon. It was a solemn meeting, because the night before, the Personnel Department’s recommendation of Comrade
Ding Gu’s posthumous promotion had been approved by
the county committee: Comrade Ding Gu would receive the
designation of vice office head. They did not say how he had been treated before his death. Since he was now dead, his treatment when alive became meaningless. Although the
memorial was originally to be held in the yard of the Cultural Bureau, out of respect for old Ding’s promotion it was moved to the theater. The number of people who came to
the memorial was unexpectedly large because the whole
county, old and young, knew Ding Gu, and also because
they had heard through the grapevine that the portrait of Ding Gu drawn by the prodigiously talented new sweeper
looked like the real man. Many children came only to see the portrait. Because I had not known Ding Gu personally, and the theater was full, I retreated to the box office, where I could hear everything happening at the meeting. As the funeral music began, a feeling of desolate grief seized
3 1 6
Bai Hua.book Page 317 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
my heart. I took Ding Gu’s notebook out of the left-hand drawer. In it were minutes of some criticism meeting directed at him. In addition to year, month, and date, he had also written down each speaker’s name. Opening the first page, I saw the speaker was Liu Shouhua. Wasn’t he the
newly appointed chief of the Bureau of Education? What
position did he hold at that time? Who knows? But according to the law of progress, he could not have been a bureau chief. I suddenly remembered that today Bureau Chief Liu Shouhua was delivering the memorial speech. The voice
from the loudspeaker was his. I wanted to close Ding’s notebook to concentrate on his present voice, yet half of me still clung to his past voice. Fortunately his present voice, owing to sorrow, was extremely slow, so I could attend to both voices simultaneously.
Liu Shouhua’s past voice (indignant): “Comrades in arms
of the proletarian revolutionary factions, ‘the monkey king wields his magic club, and the whole world is purged of
dust!’ The revolutionary rebels of our county have rooted out a deeply hidden counterrevolutionary element! His dog name is Ding Gu! This is good news, a great festival for our revolutionary masses.”
Liu Shouhua’s present voice (sorrowful and deep): “Com-
rades, friends. Unfortunately, illness has claimed the life of Comrade Ding Gu, paradigm of the outstanding revolutionary intellectuals. His death is a great loss to our cultural affairs, and he is mourned by all the people of this county.
We have lost a beloved comrade in arms.”
“Ding Gu was born into a cruel family of landlords.”
“Comrade Ding Gu was born into a traditional family of
scholars.”
“From childhood, he sucked the blood of peasants and
made up his mind to succeed his father on the orthodox
Confucian path of becoming a lord riding herd over the
people.”
3 1 7
Bai Hua.book Page 318 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
“During his school days he was inclined to progress and
determined to divorce himself from the bourgeoisie and
throw himself into revolution.”
“After worming his way into the revolutionary ranks, he
refused to be remolded and lost his soul in the reactionary cultures of feudalism, capitalism, and revisionism.”
“After joining the revolution, he actively studied Marx-
ism-Leninism-Mao Zedong thought and gained great aca-
demic achievements, publishing many essays on the subject of national cultures.”
“He has been severely criticized by the revolutionary
masses in every political campaign.”
“Owing to historical reasons, the research of Comrade
Ding Gu has not received the evaluation it deserves.”
“After being sent to our county, instead of turning over a new leaf, he committed even more serious crimes. Taking
advantage of the movie theater, he opened the gate for all sorts of weeds to poison the minds of the masses.”
“He voluntarily came to work in our county. Although
our county is located on the border and transportation is poor, he neither feared hardships nor complained. In order to enliven the cultural life of the masses and enable them to see more performances and movies, he accepted all tasks, from sweeping the floor to organizing a program, from
getting movies to introducing them, in order to guaran-
tee that the people of our county receive the best education.”
“Counterrevolutionary black gang member Ding Gu pre-
tended to work hard to win the trust of the masses.”
“Comrade Ding Gu sacrificed himself to the revolution,
without regard to fame, money, or position. Comrade Ding Gu will be respected by the people of our county and will live forever in our hearts.”
“His crimes are hideous and he deserves punishment
more severe than death.”
“No one can deny his great contributions.”
3 1 8
Bai Hua.book Page 319 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
“Let us criticize him until he becomes infamous, trample on him, and keep him down forever!”
“While we are expressing our sorrow for him, let us study his spirit of serving the people. Eternal glory to Comrade Ding Gu!”
“Down with Ding Gu! Down with the counterrevolu-
tionary black gang member Ding Gu!”
“Rest in peace, our beloved Comrade Ding Gu! We shall
use concrete deeds in socialist revolution and construction to console yo
ur soul down in the yellow springs.”
Liu Shouhua’s words fell with tears and his sobbing
finally overwhelmed him. The memorial was extremely suc-
cessful, more touching than a melodrama. People left the theater wiping away their tears.
The small theater of about five hundred seats turned out to be a perfect cosmos for me. During show time, the
entrance was as crowded as a cosmopolitan city and all the celebrities of the county gathered here, to everyone’s excitement. During the day it was so quiet that one could catch lazy sparrows. A dozen bats, permanent residents of the theater, flew high and low regardless of the time. Sweeping the floor, selling and collecting tickets, ushering, sweeping again after the show – although my job was not very interesting, it was quite regular, half hard work, half rest. It followed an ancient maxim perfectly: the way of civil and military art, one moment of intensity followed by one of
relaxation.
More than a month had passed since my arrival. But we
had shown only one movie, The Pine Ridge. Children who had seen it countless times could reproduce its dialogue, sound, and gestures to perfection. When May Fourth youth day came, the singing and dancing troupe of the county
would be putting on a show in the theater. Because those tickets were distributed by the league committee, it saved me the trouble of having to sell tickets. When I was collecting tickets at the entrance, some of the children pointed at 3 1 9
Bai Hua.book Page 320 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
me and shouted, “He came here to replace the dead old
Ding.”
To the ordinary ear, this statement sounds dreadful, and it would be better with slight modification. For instance,
“He came to take over old Ding’s work.” But I didn’t care.
It sounded all right to me, because all men must die, and the living replace the dead. In a sense, the children’s words carried more truth. So I encouraged them. “Well said! I
came here to replace that dead old Ding.”
It had been years since I had last seen a live performance.
I was excited, believing it must be fresh and interesting.
After my ushering duties were finished, I leaned against the doorpost and watched. The first dance looked familiar: men and women sang and danced with a bunch of rice stalks in each hand. Their clothes were gaudy and their faces simper-ing. In the end, the change of formation produced a portrait that used to be Chairman Mao and was now Chairman Hua.
The joyful men and women split into two teams like wild
geese. Some stood and others knelt as they stretched the rice toward the portrait, as if singing, “We have more rice than we can eat. Come look if you don’t believe it.” The audience was thrilled as usual, applauding thunderously. The next performance was similar to the first, like an old acquaintance popping up after a number of years. I lost interest, and, before it was half over, I returned to the box office. I’d rather stay there and read old Ding’s notebook and self-criticism. His dignified words, soaked with the blood of human life, were instructive. Although I never met him while he was alive, in death I found in him a bosom friend. I was soon caught up in my reading. Before I knew it, the show was over, and the audience had disappeared. Now my show
started. My first performance, the hardest and most skillful one, was sweeping the floor of the theater. The space
between the rows was so narrow the broom hardly fit. I had to dig out melon seeds and colored candy wrappers from
under every seat. Occasionally, I picked up a coded billet-3 2 0
Bai Hua.book Page 321 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
doux dropped by a careless lover. But never any money. This performance had me sweaty all over. My second performance was cleaning up the stage and backstage area, where the
used tissues, cheap powders, and greasepaint made me nauseous. As I was tidying up the stage, Manager Tao of the singing and dancing troupe led a dozen men and women
performers back to the theater like a cyclone. All were
dressed for workouts in Chinese lantern-like loose pants and tight tops; they were tense and breathless. Ignoring me, they acted their roles of a general and his guards in a model opera. When General Tao said, “Search,” the guards split into two rows and went separately backstage, then returned through the entrance, reporting in unison, “Nothing.” General Tao said, “Go!” In a wink, they vanished like ghosts. I stood in the middle of the stage, holding my broom, dumbfounded. The scene and the excitement I had witnessed
would have been perfect for a painting.
“Hey!” A cry, a female voice, made my hair stand on end.
Was it a ghost? My well-trained ears could tell the cry came from above. Raising my head, I saw a girl in minority
national dress perched on the iron beam of the left spotlight, waving and grinning at me. How did she get up
there? During the performance there had been a folding ladder. But it was the property of the troupe, and after the show it had been removed along with all the cosmetics, cos-tumes, and instruments. As I racked my brain for an answer, she shouted, “Catch me!” She fell as she shouted. Instinctively I threw away the broom and stepped forward to catch her. She caught my neck and knocked me to the floor, luckily landing astride me. Showing no fear, she got up gig-
gling. Still sitting on the stage, I looked her up and down.
She was wearing a dark-blue satin top with buttons slanting to one side, an embroidered white linen shirt, and pointed red shoes shaped like boats. Her hair was entangled with fluffy false pigtails and silk tassels, and she had an innocent face, mature big eyes, a straight, high nose, slightly meaty 3 2 1
Bai Hua.book Page 322 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
lips, and glistening white teeth. She stopped laughing and offered her hand to pull me up. She beat the dust off my back and bottom. I asked her nothing, but she volunteered the answer: “I’m just having a good time with them.” Her Chinese was a bit awkward.
“Why?”
“They always have someone follow me.”
“Why?”
“They are worried about me.”
“Why?”
“Why? You know why, don’t you? I am a Mosuo girl.”
“A Mosuo girl!” My eyes lit up, with a surprise that I had lost for many years. Was she dressed Mosuo style? Was the girl standing right before me from the country of women? I defended myself. “I really don’t know.”
“Did you drop from the sky?”
“Well, I came from a faraway place.”
“Oh, I see. I’ve heard of you.”
“What?”
“They say you can paint portraits, and Ding Gu’s portrait was your work. They also say you have been in jail and have a mental illness. You were a college graduate, but instead of staying in a big city you insisted on coming to our small border county.”
“Is that so?” Now I knew the county was small. Any out-
sider here would become the talk of the town. On the other hand, no one paid any attention to the newspapers or broadcasts.
“I’m not going back to the troupe.”
“But they’re searching for you.”
“Let them search! Why stop them? I often play with
them like this. But I’m not going back, no matter what.”
“But there’s no place for you to sleep in the theater.”
“Don’t you have a bed?”
“Yes. But if I give it to you, where can I sleep?”
3 2 2
Bai Hua.book Page 323 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
“Oh.” She seemed to gain a sudden insight. “Yes, I know, you have rules.”
Not only rules, we had laws.
“All right!” She said with a sigh. “I’m leaving.”
“Back to the troupe?”
“By no means.”
“Where to?”
“To the mountain. I will sleep in the woods
, making a
bonfire.”
“That won’t do!” My compassion was stirred. “You can
stay in my box office and bolt the door. I’ll sleep on the stage. There is a tumbling mat to sleep on and stage curtains for covers.”
“You have a good heart, don’t you?”
I smiled and said nothing.
“With such a good heart, how could you have been in
prison?”
Still I did not answer, looking at her deep in thought.
She murmured to herself: “Perhaps you were in prison
just for your good heart. Is that so?”
I just said, “Let’s go. I’ll take you to the box office.”
“Let’s go.”
After closing and bolting the theater doors, I took her to the box office. The moment I shut the ticket window, the electricity went out, a signal that it was midnight. I lit a lamp. Now I suddenly remembered I should ask her name.
“Little sister, what are you called?”
“Sunamei.”
“Sunamei – what a beautiful name. I am called Liang Rui.”
“Liang Rui, Liang Rui,” she repeated several times softly.
“I am leaving now.”
“You are leaving?”
“Yes, I am leaving,” I said in a no-nonsense manner.
“Then – you – ” she gazed at me without blinking. After
a long while, she said, “Well, please leave then.”
3 2 3
Bai Hua.book Page 324 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM
I walked out, shutting the door behind me, and groped
my way to the stage. Even though there were probably no
lice, as there had been in prison, I stripped naked out of habit and lay down on the spongy mattress, covering myself with the stage curtain. Pillowed on my hands, my head was clear and sleepless. I was thinking, “Is it proper for me to keep her here? If people learn the truth, what will they say?
The rumor will circulate that I have hidden her in the theater. In less than an hour, the whole city will be gossiping about me. Because I am a newcomer, what punishment will
they dole out?” Thinking about the consequences calmed
me unexpectedly. At most they would strip me of my posi-
tion and criticize me at a public meeting. Then they would have to give me another job. For a man who had been to
