“During the visits of our delegation to your factories and institutions, none of the officials who’ve addressed us have mentioned the Hundred Flowers campaign or its aftermath,” said Jakob tentatively, searching even as he spoke to find a way of inquiring about Mei-ling. “You’re probably aware that there’s a great deal of interest in the subject in the West at present and many questions arise in my own mind . .
Jakob paused, noticing that Chou had become very still in his chair. There was a new alertness in his manner, and it was evident that he was now on his guard.
Many of China’s critics suspect a trap might have been deliberately set for intellectuals who are being punished in the ‘anti- rightist’ campaign,” continued Jakob cautiously, “and like many others I’m curious to know if there’s any truth in that.”
“That’s an erroneous assumption.” Chou did not raise his voice but the firmness of his tone suggested his displeasure at the question. “Genuine attempts were made to invite constructive criticism in order to bring about greater national unity.”
“But is it possible that some people might ha’ been victimized unjustly
“To our great disappointment, many cosintCr’0 ti0nary tendencies have emerged,” interjected Chou, nutting Jakob off deliberately in midsentence. “The situation’s still complicated. It’s not appropriate to consider such questions here.”
Chou’s tone indicated unmistakably that he would countenance no further discussion of the topic, and he turned and signaled to his female aide, who immediately handed him a single sheet of paper. He glanced over its contents for a moment, then looked up at Jakob again.
“You were asked to come here today, Mr. Kellner, so that I could explain the amendments that have been made to your schedule. Yourself and one or two other chosen delegates are invited to inspect a new major hydroelectric project that’s under construction in the northwest, by the Great Wall. It will produce the biggest reservoir in north China, provide us with a new power grid and mark a great forward step in the nation’s flood-control program. We shall also arrange for you to visit a new steel-making corporation Chou looked up from the paper and smiled deprecatingly. “In Hong Kong and other centers reporting on China, most writers concentrate on the negative aspects of life in the People’s Republic. In China’s New Age you reported fairly and without prejudice. To be precise, that’s why an invitation was extended to you. You display a sympathetic understanding of our problems and that’s why we’re now offering you these new and exclusive reporting opportunities.”
“Thank you, Mr. Premier,” said Jakob. “although I’ve long since given up missionary work, my interest in China and my sympathy for its people have never flagged. I’d be glad visit the places you’ve mentioned.”
Chou laid his briefing paper aside and his manner became less formal. “The last time we met, Mr. Kellner, you had just reached the end of a long journey. But I believe you’ve never published anything about your experiences on the Long March. Am I right?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” said Jakob guardedly.
“May I ask the reason for this?”
Jakob hesitated, taken by surprise. His instinct was to hedge, but seeing an opportunity to steer the conversation back in the direction he had tried to take earlier, he decided to be frank. “I’ve had many requests to write a detailed account, Mr. Premier,” he said in a quiet tone. “But I’ve always declined.”
“And why did you decline?” asked Chou.
Jakob looked pointedly at the female aide seated at his shoulder. “May I ask you, Mr. Premier, for the same guarantee of confidentiality that you requested earlier from me?”
Chou nodded and turned to the aide, motioning for her to cease writing and leave the room. When the door had closed behind her, he turned expectantly back to Jakob and waited.
“I’ve never written about that period out of respect for somebody who helped me.”
The premier leaned forward in his chair. “Please explain further.”
“My infant daughter was thought to have died during the march. But in fact she was cared for secretly by one of your people and survived. That same daughter, as you’ve probably realized, is accompanying me on this visit. I’ve never felt able to tell the whole story in detail in case it caused trouble for the brave woman who helped save her life.”
“And who was she?”
“She was one of your close aides Mr. Premier.”
A faint look of surprise appeared on the face of the Chinese. “Which one?”
“Lu Mei-ling, the sister of Marshal Lu Chiao.”
The premier’s eyes widened for an instant; then his official face composed itself once more.
“I felt it best to be frank in my reply.” In his turn Jakob leaned forward in his seat. “I hope nothing I’ve said will be detrimental to Comrade Lu Mei-ling.”
“I appreciate your candor and will respect the confidence.” Chou rose briskly to his feet, holding out his hand. “I trust the additional visits we’ve arranged will prove of value to you, Mr. Kellner. If you have any other reasonable requests we will do our best to satisfy them.”
Jakob rose from his chair and shook the premier’s hand. As he did so, a thought began to grow in his mind. “I do have one small request, Mr. Premier.”
“Yes, what is it?”
Jakob drew in his breath slowly. “I’d very much like to see Comrade Lu Mei-ling. I understand she may have volunteered for reform through labor — but I’d still like to visit her if that’s possible.”
“That may not be feasible, Mr. Kellner.” Chou smiled quickly. “But we shall look into your request and let you know. Good-bye.”
The premier swung on his heel and walked quickly from the room. In the same moment, the cadre who had brought Jakob to the meeting entered silently through another door. Motioning for Jakob to follow, he led him out into the maze of marble corridors and a minute later they were descending the steps of the Great Hall to the Zil limousine in clear autumn sunlight.
Looking northward, Jakob became aware for the first time how completely the giant neo-Stalinist structure of colorless stone had come to dominate the heart of the capital. At the square’s northern end the ancient Gate of Heavenly Peace with its crimson walls and shimmering golden tiles looked much smaller in comparison. Gazing out from the stands which flanked the gate on National Day, Jakob had been preoccupied by the vast crowds taking part in the celebrations but from the Great Hall’s steps, the chief symbol of Peking’s glorious past seemed dramatically shrunken and diminished. The monolith to modern Communism from which he had just emerged now dwarfed the Ming dynasty gate, robbing it of much of its former grandeur, and as the limousine moved off, awareness of the conflict between these symbols of past and present heightened the vague sense of perplexity which Jakob carried away from his surprise meeting with China’s premier.
8
Jakob saw the towering mound of coal from the train long before he reached the loading yard of the mine, some ninety miles east of Peking. Rearing up like a black mountain above the surrounding flat countryside, it was the height of a twelve-story building. All around it, tiny scurrying figures were visible, toiling with baskets and bamboo shoulder poles like an army of worker ants. As the train drew nearer Jakob saw that narrow plank walks had been laid across the muddy yard around the coal stack and unending streams of workers were hobbling back and forth to a succession of trucks onto which they were emptying their baskets. All wore ragged cotton tunics and trousers which had once been blue but which were now soiled and blackened by the coal dust swirling constantly across the yard in the gusting autumn wind. Their faces and hands were black too, the shoes of many were in tatters, and some limped painfully along the boardwalks on bare, blackened feet.
As he took in the scene through the window of his carriage, Jakob slipped a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket to reassure himself that he had brought the letter which had been delivered to his hotel by messenger the previous morning. Four days
had passed since his meeting with Chou En-lai and during that time he had heard nothing of his request, so he had been surprised to find on opening the letter that it contained authorization for him to visit Mei-ling “for personal reasons” at the Tangshan Number Coal Yard the following day. Written above the signature of the coal yard’s “Reform-through-Labor Warden,” the letter instructed him to take the midday train from Peking and said he would be met at a small wayside station close to the Number Coal Yard. But when he alighted from the train, the station was deserted, and after waiting for a quarter of an hour, he set out to walk.
A tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire surrounded the yard. As he approached, Jakob could see that many of the coal carriers were frail figures who were bent almost double under the weight of their burdens. They stumbled frequently, sometimes falling, and Jakob realized with a shock that many of them were women. A sickening feeling began to grow inside him as he tried to scrutinize each distant carrier, searching vainly for sonic recognizable characteristic. But all wore caps pulled low over their faces and there was little to distinguish one sooty figure from another.
A loaded truck pulled away in a swirl of coal dust every two or three minutes, to be replaced by another from a long line of vehicles drawn up outside the yard gates, and a creaking automatic conveyor from the nearby mine was constantly dumping fresh coal on the heap so that the stock never diminished. Occasionally small avalanches of coal cascaded down its flanks, scattering the workers who were loading their baskets, and whenever this happened, supervisors, who stood by clutching long bamboo staves, yelled angry orders for the work to be speeded up again. If any of the workers fell, the supervisors manhandled them to their feet and pushed them back into the hurrying lines, ensuring that the tempo of the loading was never broken.
On the far side of the yard beyond the coal heap Jakob could see rows of huts that looked like barracks. A long wooden administration building had been erected inside the gates through which the loaded trucks were entering and leaving, and when he reached the entrance, Jakob showed his letter of authority to one of the two uniformed People’s Liberation Army soldiers who barred his way. After eyeing him with great suspicion, the soldier led him to a shabby office at one end of the administration building and conducted him into the presence of a middle-aged cadre with a pinched, sour face who was seated behind a metal desk. The cadre read his letter slowly, casting puzzled glances at Jakob’s polished leather shoes, his well-cut double- breasted suit of navy blue worsted, and the gabardine trench coat which he carried neatly folded over one arm. Then abruptly he rose and hurried from the room without any explanation, leaving Jakob standing uncertainly in the empty office.
For the next half hour Jakob waited on tenterhooks while the cadre made a succession of audible telephone calls to Peking from the adjoining office. He quoted the letter repeatedly in a querulous voice and from the exchanges Jakob eventually gathered that the coal yard’s senior labor warden had been taken ill, leaving a cadre who was an inexperienced deputy in charge. But when at last the cadre returned to the office, he was followed by two soldiers carrying a pair of collapsible metal chairs, and they led him through a long corridor to a small room that contained only a rough wooden trestle table. After positioning the chairs at either end of the table and motioning for Jakob to seat himself on one of them, the soldiers went out, closing the door behind them.
As ten more minutes ticked by in the cheerless room, Jakob experienced a growing sense of desolation. The floor beneath his feet was scuffed wooden boards, the paint on the bare walls was faded and discolored, and through the grimy, uncurtained window he could see the anonymous lines of coal carriers still scurrying ceaselessly back and forth across the yard. He began to question in his own mind the wisdom of the request he had made, and when he heard the sound of footsteps coming nearer along the corridor, he watched for the door to open with a growing feeling of agitation.
“This meeting has been specially arranged on the orders of a high official in Peking,” said the harsh voice of the deputy warden on the other side of the door. “You will be allowed fifteen minutes with the foreign visitor — and that is all.”
Jakob found himself holding his breath as the door swung back on its hinges. At first he could see only the deputy warden; then a slighter figure appeared beside him and took a hesitant step into the room. For a moment or two Jakob stared uncomprehendingly. The newcomer was dressed in the same kind of soiled clothes as the workers in the yard outside: cap, baggy trousers, and jacket of dark blue cotton. No hair was visible under the cap that was pulled low over the newcomer’s face, and only when the eyes beneath it widened suddenly with the shock of recognition did Jakob realize he was looking into the face of a woman — and that the woman was Mei-ling.
Jakob rose awkwardly to his feet, a turmoil of old and new emotions churning inside him. Mei-ling was standing as though frozen at the far end of the table and for a few moments the deputy warden continued to watch them from the corridor. Then he closed the door with a bang and they were left alone. Unable to summon any words, Jakob watched Mei-ling sink wearily onto the chair. With a tired gesture she tugged off her cap and dropped it on the table, revealing short-cropped hair, and he noticed that her hands, although recently washed, were ingrained with coal grime.
“Mei-ling, I’m sorry if my visit has come as a shock to you,” said Jakob, speaking Chinese in an unsteady voice. “I just didn’t realize what it would be like . .
His voice tailed off lamely, but Mei-ling neither replied nor looked up. She had fixed her eyes on the grimy cap lying before her and Jakob was seized by a terrible sense of inadequacy. Cursing himself inwardly for failing to anticipate how shaming Mei-ling might find such a meeting, he searched his mind desperately for consoling words.
“I’ve just returned to China for the first time since 1935,” he said at last in an apologetic tone. “Premier Chou called me in to see him unexpectedly. On an impulse I asked for special permission to visit you . . . I suppose I hardly expected my request to be granted. . .
She raised her head to look directly at him and Jakob felt his heart lurch within him. Her expression was puzzled and surprised but despite her shabby clothes and the grime on her skin, to his astonishment the essence of her beauty was still visible in her wide eyes. Although she was obviously physically wearied, the high-cheekboned face that had first entranced him on board the Tomeko Maru still seemed hauntingly lovely to him, and in that instant he could scarcely believe that more than twenty years had passed since their last meeting.
“How did you know where I was, Jakob?” she asked haltingly.
“I met Liang, my old cook boy,” said Jakob, relieved that he had broken the awful dam of silence that had stood between them. “Your brother, Chiao, had arranged it. It was Liang who told me what you were doing.”
in spite of the humiliating circumstances, Mei-ling retained a quiet, dignified air which enhanced her natural beauty and all Jakob’s past feelings for her welled up again suddenly with great force. A suffocating sensation constricted his chest and in that instant he realized just how thoroughly he had suppressed all emotion in himself during the intervening years. As the seconds ticked by he ached to tell her what he was feeling but the surroundings daunted him.
“Why are you here, Mei-ling?” he asked instead. “What have you done wrong?”
Through the window behind Jakob, Me-ling watched one of the coal trucks revving across the yard in a swirl of black dust. The light in her eyes seemed to intensify as though she felt some inner pain, and he could see that answering the question was difficult for her.
“For the future of our country it’s important that educated people should learn for themselves what hard physical labor is like,” she said distantly. “Perhaps my crime was to forget that.”
She continued to gaze out through the window and Jakob was unable to decide whether she truly believed what she was saying or was merely repeating what Party activists would expect of
her. “Are all the people loading coal here from backgrounds like yours?” he asked quietly.
“Many of them are teachers, scientists, and doctors. Some are still students. For two thousand years in China people like us have believed in the Confucian concept that ‘he who works with his mind rules and he who works with his hands is ruled.’ it’s vital that we change that.”
“Did you have to come here, Mei-ling?” asked Jakob in an undertone, leaning forward on the table. “Liang said he thought you might have volunteered.”
“My writing hasn’t always given sufficient prominence to working people. h’s up to me to set an example. Working here is helping me understand how they live. It was right for me to come.”
She spoke again in the same distant voice, still avoiding Jakob’s eyes, and he felt a new wave of compassion surge through him. He knew from his own conversations with refugees who escaped to Hong Kong that Communist officials often persuaded intellectuals to “volunteer” for reeducation through labor. But behind such persuasion lay the unspoken threat of force if they refused and Jakob thought he detected in Mei-ling’s evasion a hint of the confusion and sense of indignity that this ambivalence created. He realized that she might not truly know whether she was there voluntarily or not, and because of this, her efforts to justify and explain her shaming circumstances seemed unbearably tragic. Determined suddenly, come what might, to break down the barriers which time had raised between them, he pulled out his wallet and extracted a photograph of Abigail taken recently in I-long Kong. Without explanation he rose and placed it on the table in front of Mei-ling and watched her study it with a mystified expression.
Anthony Grey Page 53
