by Ian Hamilton
“But you were never a whore. You must have thought I was one when we met,” Fai said. “I know I spoke and acted like one.”
“You made it clear that Tsai was paying for your company. Beyond that I knew and assumed nothing.”
“I needed the money,” Fai said. “Being an actress in China doesn’t pay as well as people assume. Then there’s Chen, who takes his cut; an image I have to maintain; the money I have to set aside for the day when I’m no longer in demand as an actress; and the money I send home to Yantai.”
“You’ve never mentioned Yantai,” Ava said, hoping to steer the conversation away from Tsai.
“It was my home. My parents and one grandparent still live there.”
“You’re supporting them?”
“Yes. My father was a fisherman, and that’s a job for young men. His body started to give out when he turned fifty. My mother worked on the production line in a scallop plant, until her back became so bad she couldn’t stand for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“I know that Yantai has a seafood industry, but I didn’t realize it was so physically demanding.”
“You’ve been to Yantai?”
“Yes,” Ava said. “I was chasing a guy who’d passed off a container of cheap frozen fish as scallops. I had to fly into Qingdao and drive north for a couple of hours from there. I stayed in a new waterfront hotel. I thought Yantai was a pretty place, or at least the waterfront was. We overlooked the Bohai Strait and the Yellow Sea. I also remember a lot of Korean signs there.”
“The Korean peninsula is directly across the strait. A lot of the local businesses are operated by Koreans or depend on them as customers.”
“When did you leave?”
“I had just turned seventeen when I got accepted into the Central Academy of Drama. That brought me to Beijing.”
“How did that happen?”
“I was lucky. I had a schoolteacher who had a cousin who had a senior position at the Academy. The teacher kept telling me she thought I could make a career out of acting. All I’d done to earn that opinion was appear in some school plays and local amateur productions, but she seemed convinced and gave me enough confidence not to discount the possibility. What I didn’t know was that she’d been telling her cousin about me, and she finally talked him into coming to Yantai to see me. He auditioned me in the teacher’s living room. Somehow I impressed him enough to be given a place at the Academy.”
“And that’s where you met Lau Lau?”
“You mean that’s where he claims he discovered me.”
“That is the prevailing opinion.”
Fai poured tea into both cups, even though neither woman had come close to emptying hers. “I was in my third year at the Academy. He had graduated six or seven years before and had served his apprenticeship as a director. He thought he was finally ready to break out on his own. He had a script that the China Movie Syndicate had approved and was prepared to finance, and the leading role called for a young woman. He came to the Academy to find one,” Fai said. “When he asked who they would recommend, my name was at the top of the list. So you see, he hardly discovered me. My talent had been acknowledged and I was already building a reputation. If it hadn’t been Lau Lau casting me in his film, it would have been someone else.”
“Why don’t you set the record straight?”
“What good would that do? People like the story that he picked me out of a crowd of anonymous, untested actresses and turned me into a star,” Fai said, and then paused. “Besides, I’ve hurt him enough. Discovering me is one of his few remaining claims to fame. Let him keep it — he doesn’t have much else to cling to these days.”
“How long before he asked you to marry him?”
Fai shivered and slowly shook her head. “That’s such a simple question, but what you’re really asking is why did I marry him.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Ava said, reaching across the table for Fai’s hand.
“The answer is much more complicated. It’s a question I couldn’t bring myself to answer until I met you.”
( 4 )
They sat quietly for a few moments, their attention focused on the tea. Finally Ava said, “I think I’d like something a bit stronger to drink. Do you have any wine?”
“I have a bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge.”
“That will do fine.”
Fai got the wine and took it to the counter to uncork the bottle. She struggled with it, and that gave Ava some extra moments to think about their conversation. She suspected Fai wanted to unburden herself about her relationships with Tsai, Lau Lau, and who-knew-how-many other men. From her point of view, it wasn’t a necessary discussion. She had already thought it through and frankly didn’t care what Fai had done with whom. But she was prepared to listen if it helped her friend get rid of whatever guilt or remorse she was carrying around.
Ava watched as Fai finally uncorked the wine and reached into a cupboard for two glasses. Everything she did physically seemed effortless, as if she existed in a vacuum, like an astronaut floating in space. The contrast between that and the electricity she generated in bed thrilled Ava, and that reaction hadn’t diminished one iota during the months they’d been together.
“What are you thinking about?” Fai asked when she returned to the table.
“Nothing,” Ava lied. “You were talking about why you married Lau Lau. Do you want to continue?”
“I was a virgin when we married,” Fai said, and then drank deeply from her glass. “We had tried to consummate our relationship before that, but somehow it never worked. Sometimes it was my fault, but just as often it was his.”
“Is he gay?” Ava said.
“Why do you ask that?” Fai said, suddenly uncomfortable.
“I read something in one of my mother’s Hong Kong gossip magazines a few years ago about him hanging around with one of the more openly gay Canto-pop performers.”
“He would describe himself as bisexual.”
“How would you describe him?”
“I’d prefer not to put any label on him,” Fai said.
“Sorry.”
“No, you don’t have to say that. I know I’m going around in circles, and it has to be hard for you to follow,” Fai said. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was confused about my sexuality, and now that things have become clear, there are ramifications I have to deal with.”
“How confused were you?”
“Well, I said ‘confused,’ but I could have said that I was in denial. When I was younger, in my teens, I fantasized about having sex with girls, but I told myself that was just a phase and that I’d get over it. It didn’t occur to me that not fantasizing about men was a sign. I just figured I’d meet a man and he’d show me the ropes and make me happy . . . Ava, I didn’t know any better. Yantai wasn’t exactly at the forefront of the sexual revolution, and it certainly wasn’t liberal.”
“You weren’t worried about discrimination?”
“Maybe subconsciously, but my first awareness of that reality came later, when I was in Beijing and the students in the drama class talked about it. Some of them were gay, of course, and they worked hard at hiding it. They knew they wouldn’t have any kind of career if it became known. Many of them got married, or at least tried to create a public perception of being involved in an ordinary relationship.”
“Like you did.”
“No. I was in such a deep state of denial, or ignorance, or whatever you want to call it that I thought all I needed to do was meet the right man.”
“When did that change?”
Fai emptied her glass and refilled it. She took two sips, put the glass down, and grasped Ava’s hands. “Lau Lau and I had been married for about three years. His first few films had been successful. I’d had my own share of success, but truthfully he was the star in the family; I was get
ting as much credit for marrying a great director who would cast me as I was for my performances. As his fame grew and he started earning serious money, he began to indulge himself. It started with liquor and then grew into drugs, and I went along for the ride.
“We were never completely out of control, but we were self-absorbed. Lau Lau in particular began to think of himself as being bigger than the system that supported him. So when opportunities came along to indulge in sexual adventures, he persuaded me to go along. The turning point for me came when he talked me into participating in a foursome. It would be boy-girl, boy-boy, girl-girl, girl-boy, he said — except it didn’t work out that way. He and the boy locked onto each other, and I had sex with a girl for the first time in my life. I didn’t know her and I never saw her again. What I did know was that I enjoyed the sex in a way I couldn’t have imagined.”
“Did you talk about it with him afterwards?”
“No. I was almost in shock.”
“Did you have sex with him again?”
“Of course I did. I told myself I’d had an adventure, and that was all,” Fai said. “I didn’t really believe it, but I knew it was what I had to believe if I was going to have a career.”
“What happened next?”
“We drifted apart. He became more and more out of control and I started to find my own way. When we split, I like to think it was a relief for both of us not to have to live such a big lie.”
“What do you mean when you say you found your own way?” Ava asked.
“My career.”
“Not your sexuality?”
“No. I had a few one-night stands, usually with other women in the business who knew the importance of discretion, but I was still kidding myself that all I had to do was find the right man.”
“So what’s happened to cause you so much anxiety?”
Fai lowered her eyes. “You already know that I slept with Tsai for money,” she said slowly. “Well, there were others, although it wasn’t always for money. Sometimes I needed other kinds of favours and I used sex to get them.”
“What kind of favours?”
“I mentioned the China Movie Syndicate earlier. Do you know anything about it?”
“No.”
“It’s a government conglomerate that controls every aspect of filmmaking in China. It develops, finances, and produces most of the films made here. It owns theatres and controls the majority of the distribution system. It’s the only group allowed to import foreign films into China and it decides which Chinese films can be exported.”
“Is there a problem with them?”
“They won’t allow Tsang to release Mao’s Daughter.”
“What?” Ava said, stunned. “We were just at its premiere.”
“That could be its only showing.”
“Why?”
“They think it’s critical of the government. They think it’s subversive.”
“It’s a historical period piece.”
“But it doesn’t reflect well on the Party or on Mao.”
“Didn’t they approve the script?”
“Tsang made some changes as we were shooting. They were minor, but it gave the senior functionaries at the Syndicate the excuse they needed to get heavy with him.”
“How do you know the film won’t be released?”
“Chen told me. He’s Tsang’s agent as well as mine.”
“Then why bother with the premiere?”
“The Syndicate will say they wanted to see the full version, that all they’d viewed before were random scenes.”
“What can Tsang or Chen do to make things right with them? I read somewhere that Gong Li faced this kind of opposition to some of her films. She refused to back down and won in the end.”
Fai’s eyes became teary and Ava saw her hands tremble. “No one in our industry today has the kind of power that Gong Li had,” Fai said. “She was a true international superstar, and the times were different then. The Syndicate wasn’t quite so politically or morally sensitive. I’m not sure even Gong Li could win today.”
“So Tsang or Chen can’t do anything?”
“The Syndicate doesn’t care what they do. Their interest is in me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The chairman of the Syndicate is a man named Mo, and the vice-chairman is Fong. They’re going on a golf trip to Thailand in two weeks. They asked Tsang and Chen to invite me to join them,” Fai said, the tears now starting to flow. “If I do, and if I entertain them sufficiently, the film will be released — with some minor changes. If I don’t, the film is dead.”
Ava’s face flushed and her hands clenched into fists. “I don’t believe that this kind of thing can go on in this day and age.”
“It’s been going on here for years, and the truth is that I’ve slept with Mo before to get things I wanted. But I’m finished with that kind of thing. There’s no amount of coercion that can get me to change my mind,” Fai said. “I didn’t say that so directly to Tsang. All I said was that I couldn’t do it. Then Chen pressed me and I told him what he already suspected.”
“About us?”
“Yes, I told him we were lovers. I said I wasn’t going to deny you or let you go, and I wasn’t going to do anything that might risk our relationship. That included having any more to do with Mo or Fong or anyone else involved in the Syndicate. I told him those days are over.”
“How did he react?”
“He was calm enough but said I was being foolish. He said that at my age I had another five to ten years of filmmaking ahead of me and that throwing those years away would be crazy. He suggested that I see you on the side and he’d find a way to keep things quiet,” Fai said, and then paused. “But he also told me that sleeping with Mo has to happen if Mao’s Daughter is ever going to be seen in public. And then, of course, he said it’s the best film I’ve made in years and that with the right kind of support from the Syndicate it could get widespread international distribution.”
“Is not distributing Mao’s Daughter the only fallout from not doing what he wants?”
“There was also the clear implication that any future film I’m attached to won’t get funded, and if it manages to self-finance it won’t get distributed in China and they’ll make it difficult for it to be shown abroad,” Fai said, shaking her head. “Ava, I’m a realist when it comes to the power the Syndicate yields. They can make all those things happen if they choose.”
“But you aren’t completely sure they’ll go to those lengths?”
“Not yet, but we’ll know soon enough. There’s a meeting scheduled between Chen and Mo tomorrow afternoon. I have to call Chen in the morning with my final answer about going on that trip. He’ll then have to deal with Mo. But maybe I’m just anticipating the worst result and things won’t be as bad as I think.”
“What kind of animals are these people?” Ava muttered. “It’s disgusting that you have to be worried about shit like this.”
“Until now I just assumed it was normal for the business I’m in,” Fai said. “Now my world has changed. What was normal is now abhorrent.”
( 5 )
They lay naked, wrapped in each other’s arms. It was three in the morning and they hadn’t slept. They’d finished the bottle of wine, made love, talked, made love again, and talked some more.
Ava found it difficult to accept that the people running the China Movie Syndicate could have that much power and be that venal. She asked question after question until she understood that Fai’s experiences with them had been first-hand and had not been exaggerated. She knew that probing like that was probably causing Fai some discomfort, but she wanted to understand, and she didn’t know how else to proceed. Finally she said, “As I see it, we’ve got a couple of options.”
Fai’s face was only inches away and her eyes stared into Ava’s. They were full
of doubt, although Ava liked to think she saw in them a touch of hope as well. “How can we have options?” Fai said.
“Who is the ultimate decision maker in the Syndicate?”
“Mo sets the tone and calls the shots. He’s been there for years and years.”
“So he’s a dedicated and loyal Party member?”
“He wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”
“We have to find a way to get to him.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“And to do what?”
“We need to convince him that it’s in his own best interest to leave you alone and to authorize the distribution of Mao’s Daughter.”
“He’s stubborn and vindictive. If I don’t go to Thailand, he’ll make me pay.”
“Uncle, my former partner, used to say that people always do the right thing for the wrong reason. All we have to do is find the reason that will motivate Mo.”
“You make it sound so simple. It can’t be that easy. What do we do if he won’t budge?”
Ava put her hand gently under Fai’s chin. “Maybe you should leave China for a while. It could be a good thing. I’m sure there are film companies and directors in the U.S. who’d be thrilled to have you in one of their productions.”
“I don’t speak English well enough for that.”
“You could learn.”
“I’ve tried, but I don’t seem to have an ear for other languages,” Fai said, and then caught herself. “I don’t mean to sound negative, but it is something Chen and I talked about before and he made some calls on my behalf. The language issue was a big problem. We even discussed the possibility of me learning the lines in English phonetically, like Gong Li did for some of her non-Chinese films. I gave it a try, but I became so focused on the language that I couldn’t act.”
“Then we could consider making Chinese-language films somewhere else, like Taiwan or Hong Kong.”
