by Gale Sears
Wen-shan nodded. She turned back to study the painting and to think about all the changes that had come into their lives over the past several months. In a few days, she would be sixteen, and because of her mother’s letters, she would be a different sixteen. The stories of suffering were difficult, but always there was courage and endurance, a facing of the past and the future. She had learned from that.
Last night in honor of the exhibit, she and her uncle had read the final letter. It was short and written hurriedly but contained news that offered hope.
I must run quickly and place this last letter in the jade dragon box. Father and I enclose pieces of our hearts within. We do not know what will happen. There are rumors that Secretary Luo is planning a purge of some dangerous counterrevolutionaries, but Father and I will stay together and hope we remain invisible.
I have heard from Han-lie. He will be coming home after the rainy season. The CCCP has noted his good work and will send him back to his family. I hope he will understand why I had to send you away.
The bamboo still bends in the storm.
“Wen-shan?”
Wen-shan blinked and looked up into the face of Wei Jun-jai.
“Jun-jai, what are you doing here?” She glanced around. “Are they starting to let people in?”
“No, I snuck in early to see how you were doing. I’m sorry. I’ll go back out.”
She caught his arm. “Don’t be silly. I’m glad you’re here.”
The embarrassment slid from his face. “Oh, good.” He bowed to Wen-shan’s uncle. “Good-evening, Mr. Zhao. The exhibit is beautiful.”
“Yes, they have done a good job, haven’t they?” Wen-shan could not read the expression on her uncle’s face, but it seemed that a slight grin touched the corner of his mouth. “If you two will excuse me, I’d like to check the lighting on the cypress painting.” He bowed to Jun-jai, who bowed back. When he was gone, Jun-jai seemed a bit nervous.
“I like your dress. You look very nice.”
“Thank you, Jun-jai. Would you like to see the exhibit before everyone comes in?”
“Yes. I would love to.”
The two walked through the stands of bamboo discovering the sparrow painting, the Yellow Cloth Shoal, and the comical rooster. Just as they reached the painting of the plum blossoms, the door to the exhibition hall was opened, and people started drifting in.
Song Li-ying found her immediately. “Oh, Wen-shan, this is magical.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Hello, Wei Jun-jai.”
“Good evening, Song Li-ying.”
Li-ying stared around the room. “Look at all the people.”
“I know, let’s move off to the side,” Wen-shan suggested.
The three went to stand by a wall on the far side of the room. Wen-shan liked this vantage point. She could watch the people without them being aware of her. Among the guests, she picked out Mrs. and Mr. Tuan, Mr. Yee, Mrs. Yang, and Master Quan with her uncle. The two were walking toward her—the scholar in his long scholar’s dress.
“Would you like to see one of China’s great treasures?” Wen-shan asked her friends.
“Of course,” they chorused.
Master Quan came to her and bowed. “Miss Chen, what a perfect night, yes?”
“Yes, Master Quan.” She motioned her friends forward. “Master Quan, I would like you to meet my friends, Song Li-ying and Wei Jun-jai.”
He bowed to both, and they bowed back. “These are friends that do good. I can tell.”
Jun-jai smiled. “It is easy to be a good friend when one has a good friend.”
“Ah, Jun-jai has now become a teacher,” her uncle said.
Jun-jai took the teasing good-naturedly.
“I am taking Master Quan to see the exhibit. Do you want to join us?” her uncle asked.
Jun-jai and Li-ying accepted immediately, but Wen-shan declined.
“I’ll stay with you,” Jun-jai offered.
“That’s very kind of you, Jun-jai, but I think I’d like a few minutes by myself.”
He smiled at her. “I understand. We’ll see you later.” He and Li-ying went with the elders, matching their stride to Master Quan’s shuffle.
It was just as she imagined it: people standing in awe of her grandfather’s skill, reaching out toward something that touched their heart, discussing some aspect with a partner. She had decided to join the crowd when she noticed Mr. and Mrs. Smythe enter the hall. They both looked elegant. He wore a tuxedo, and Mrs. Smythe wore a blue silk gown and diamond accessories. Wen-shan saw them glance around the room. When they spotted her, they split up. Mr. Smythe went one direction, and Mrs. Smythe headed to her.
“My dear! Don’t you look stunning!” Mrs. Smythe said as she approached.
“So do you,” Wen-shan returned. “And this exhibit is stunning.”
“It is, isn’t it?” she answered, perusing the venue. “There are a few visionaries on the board, thank heavens.”
“Didn’t you want to view the paintings with your husband?”
“Oh, all in good time. He’s actually gone to retrieve your great-uncle. There’s something we need to share with you. Ah! Here they come now.”
The two men came up and Mr. Smythe bowed to Wen-shan. “My, my, my, Miss Chen. You look lovely.”
She blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Smythe.” She looked to her uncle, noting that his expression had become one of concern. “Are you all right, Uncle?”
“Mr. Smythe said they had something to share with us.”
Wen-shan shrugged. Did her uncle think they were going to charge them for the exhibition?
“Oh, please, Mr. Zhao, not to worry. The news we have is good news,” Mrs. Smythe said. “George, would you like to do the honors?”
Mr. Smythe nodded, and his voice took on a calm and assured tone. “Miss Chen, do you believe in miracles?”
Wen-shan was so shocked by the unexpected question that she almost forgot her manners and said What? Instead she stammered, “I . . . I beg your pardon?”
“Miracles. Do you believe in miracles?”
“I think maybe I do, Mr. Smythe.”
He reached into his pocket. “I’m very glad you do.” He brought out a letter and handed it to her.
She looked at the characters on the front, and her vision blurred with tears. “From my mother? You found my mother?”
Mrs. Smythe’s voice took on a tender timbre. “We did, Miss Chen. She was still living in the same house in Guilin.”
Her uncle’s arm was around her. “Here. Sit here on this bench, Wen-shan.”
She was grateful for his help because the room was suddenly spinning and her legs didn’t have any strength.
“Oh, my word, George, we should have thought a little bit more about the possible reaction! That was dreadfully shallow of us, Miss Chen.”
Her uncle sat next to her on the bench. “I am not feeling very steady myself.”
“Rock of Gibraltar, George! Go find a doctor!”
Wen-shan started to giggle. “No. No, Mrs. Smythe, I’m fine. We’ll be fine. We’re just a little . . .” She began to cry. “Overwhelmed.”
Mrs. Smythe sat on the other side of her. “Well, George and I are nincompoops, that’s all there is to it.”
Now Wen-shan was laughing and crying at the same time. “You are both wonderful,” she stuttered. “Wonderful. Look at what you did. It is a miracle. Thank you.” Impulsively she threw her arms around Mrs. Smythe’s neck and hugged her. “You brought my mother to me.” She pushed away and saw Mrs. Smythe flick a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Don’t you dare make me spoil my makeup.”
Mr. Smythe stepped forward. “Are you sure you’re all right, Mr. Zhao? We’ll get you whatever help you need.”
“We are fine, Mr. Smythe. It is just very emotional.”
“Of course. We should have had you come to the house.”
Mrs. Smythe spoke up. “But we just received the letter today, and I gu
ess we lost our wits.”
At the mention of the letter, Wen-shan held it in front of her to get a better look. It was her name and her mother’s name, right in front of her, on the same envelope.
Mrs. Smythe stood. “All right, George, we’ve made enough blunders for one day. Let’s go look at this exquisite art and leave these two to their letter.”
Wen-shan caught her hand. “I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done.”
Mrs. Smythe put her gloved hand under Wen-shan’s chin. “Your happiness is payment enough.” She turned to go, then turned back. “Oh, there is something you can do.”
Wen-shan swallowed. “Anything.”
“You and your friends must come again for another round of tin biscuits and sodas. And you must stay longer for a proper visit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The couple left, and Wen-shan turned to her uncle. “I know it is not the best time and place, but I have to open this letter. I have to see what it says.”
“I understand. I want to know too.”
Wen-shan didn’t hesitate. She ran her finger along the glued portion of the flap and took out the letter.
She unfolded it and read.
When your letter came, my father, your father, and I wet the sleeves of our jackets with tears.
Her uncle hugged her. “Alive, Wen-shan! They are all alive! It is such a miracle.” He let her go. “Sorry, sorry. Read on.”
You and Uncle Zhao are safe in Hong Kong, and you, my daughter, have become a young woman with words, and friends, and schooling. I tell everyone in my neighborhood about my daughter in Hong Kong. Your father would like a picture if you can send one. I think with the new leaders things will be easier.
The big news for you is that you have a brother, Huan-bai, and a sister, Wen-lan. Perhaps someday they can meet their big sister.
Wen-shan stopped reading and stared at the paper. “I have a brother and sister?” She was having a hard time working through all the new information. Just knowing her mother was alive was overwhelming, but she knew she had to read to the end.
Father is doing well. He has retrained his fingers to paint.
Her uncle put his head in his hands and wept. Wen-shan’s voice grew husky as she continued reading.
I no longer work in the fields. I take care of my family, grow a large garden, and sell some of the extra at the village market. I will not try to tell you everything in one letter. Now that we are tied together, other letters will come.
I saw a blue butterfly in the garden today and thought of you. I think of you every day.
Mother
Wen-shan slowly folded the letter. “Alive, Uncle. They’re alive.”
Her uncle nodded, unable to speak.
She stood. “May I share this with Li-ying and Jun-jai?”
“Of course.”
She went off to share the unbelievable news with her friends and with Mr. Pierpont, Mrs. Yang, and Master Quan. The happiness seemed to swell with each telling and in the end, the evening became not only a tribute, but a joyous celebration.
• • •
Much later that evening, Wen-shan stood at the front gate looking toward the twinkling lights of the city and the shimmer of moonlight on the water. Most people had settled in for the night and all was quiet. A cool breeze blew her hair back from her face, and she breathed in the tangy air of salt water. She still wore her dragon dress but had abandoned her shoes to the front porch. She now stood barefooted on the cool stones of the path.
Wen-shan looked up at the half-moon, wondering if the other half was with her mother, shining over the heavenly mountains and the Li River. She closed her eyes and thought about God and miracles. She said a silent prayer of thanks. She smiled to herself as she walked through the forest of bamboo to her grandfather’s house, as she watched the fishing birds dive for fish, and as she stood with her mother on the Hundred Flower Bridge.
Someday. Someday.
Notes
Based on a true story: The character of Wen-shan’s uncle, Zhao Tai-lu, is based on an actual person. His name and family configuration have been changed to fit the needs of the story and to protect his anonymity, but his military background, his life in the refugee camp, his rescue by LDS missionaries, his membership in the Church, and his running of a noodle factory are all actual events.
Confucian teaching on the arts: Confucius looked upon music, art, and poetry as powerful instruments for moral education. He taught that the country which develops the finest music, the grandest poetry, and the noblest moral ideals—that is, the country with the most exalted culture—will always yield the greatest power in the world.
Author's Note
Although Chen Wen-shan is a fictional character, she represents thousands of citizens from mainland China whose lives were disrupted during the reign of Mao Tse-tung.
Following Mao’s death in 1976, the Communist government under the leadership of Deng Xiaoping brought the worst of the party criminals to justice, including Mao’s fourth wife, Jiang Qing, and her ruthless Gang of Four. Also under Deng’s administration the stranglehold on communication and travel was loosened slightly, and it became easier to move about the country. Although there were strict regulations on travel, those who could afford the fees were able to visit family members living outside of China. Educational reforms were also instituted and a few of the brightest college students went abroad to pursue advanced degrees in science and technology. The classic Communist Party position calling for prolonged class struggle was exchanged for the attainment of economic goals, and Deng’s ideological position of “seeking truth from facts” began the formation of a new system of laws and judicial organization.
These changes allowed the Church to make significant progress in China. On October 1, 1992, President Gordon B. Hinckley announced the Hong Kong Temple; a mere seventy years after apostle David O. McKay had stood in the Forbidden City in Peking on January 9, 1921, and dedicated the land of China for the preaching of the gospel. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would build a temple on British soil—soil that would soon belong to Communist China.
Hong Kong became a British colony in 1898 with the signing of a ninety-nine-year lease, which would expire June 30, 1997. In December 1984, British and Chinese authorities signed a declaration confirming that the British government would hand over Hong Kong to the People’s Republic of China on July 1, 1997.
The Hong Kong Temple was dedicated in May 1996.
When young mission president H. Grant Heaton purchased the property in Kowloon for the mission home and church offices in the 1950s, could he have envisioned that someday a unique and beautiful temple would stand upon the site to bless the lives of the Saints in Hong Kong?
President Gordon B. Hinckley made this statement to the Ensign just prior to the dedication of the temple: “I almost weep every time I think of having a temple in the great Chinese realm [wherein live one-fourth of the inhabitants of the earth]. It will be a different kind of temple. I want to say that if I ever felt the inspiration of the Lord in my life, it was on the occasion of going over there to find a place to build a temple” (in Kallene Ricks Adams, “A Dream Come True in Hong Kong,” Ensign, June 1996, 47).
To me, the blessing of the gospel taking root in China is yet another miracle of the Lord.
Appendix
China Dedicatory Prayer
David O. McKay
January 9, 1921
Forbidden City, Peking
“Our Heavenly Father: In deep humility and gratitude, we thy servants approach thee in prayer and supplication on this most solemn and momentous occasion. We pray thee to draw near unto us, to grant us the peace asked for in the opening prayer by Brother Cannon; and to let the channel of communication between thee and us be open, that thy word may be spoken, and thy will be done. We pray for forgiveness of any folly, weakness, or lightmindedness that it may not stand between us and the rich outpouring of thy Holy Spirit. Holy Father, grant
us thy peace and thy inspiration, and may we not be disturbed during this solemn service.
“For thy kind protection and watchful care over us in our travels by land and by sea, we render our sincere gratitude. We are grateful, too, for the fellowship and brotherly love we have one for the other, that our hearts beat as one, and that we stand before thee this holy Sabbath day with clean hands, pure hearts, and with our minds free from all worldly cares.
“Though keenly aware of the great responsibility this special mission entails, yet we are thankful that thou hast called us to perform it. Heavenly Father, make us equal, we beseech thee, to every duty and task. As we visit thy Missions in the various parts of the world, give us keen insight into the conditions and needs of each, and bestow upon us in rich abundance the gift of discernment.
“With grateful hearts, we acknowledge thy guiding influence in our travels to this great land of China, and particularly to this quiet and secluded spot in the heart of this ancient and crowded city. We pray that the petition setting this spot apart as a place of prayer and dedication may be granted by thee and that it may be held sacred in thy sight.
“Holy Father, we rejoice in the knowledge of the truth, and in the restoration of the Gospel of the Redeemer. We praise thy name for having revealed thyself and thine Only Begotten Son to thy servant, Joseph the Prophet, and that through thy revelations the Church, in its purity and perfection, was established in these last days for the happiness and eternal salvation of the human family. We thank thee for the Priesthood, which gives men authority to officiate in thy holy name.
“In this land there are millions who know not thee nor thy work, who are bound by the fetters of superstition and false doctrine, and who have never been given the opportunity even of hearing the true message of their Redeemer. Countless millions have died in ignorance of thy plan of life and salvation. We feel deeply impressed with the realization that the time has come when the light of the glorious Gospel should begin to shine through the dense darkness that has enshrouded this nation for ages.
“To this end, therefore, by the authority of the Holy Apostleship, I dedicate and consecrate and set apart the Chinese Realm for the preaching of the Gospel of Jesus Christ as restored in this dispensation through the Prophet Joseph Smith. By this act shall the key be turned that unlocks the door through which thy chosen servants shall enter with glad tidings of great joy to this benighted and senile nation. That their message may be given in peace, we beseech thee, O God, to stabilize the Chinese government. Thou knowest how it is torn with dissension at the present time, and how faction contends against faction to the oppression of the people and the strangling of the nation’s life. Holy Father, may peace and stability be established throughout this republic, if not by the present government, then through the intervention of the allied powers of the civilized world.
