Becoming Madame Mao - Anchee Min [112]
Large productions of Taking the Tiger Mountain by Wit and The Harbor are rehearsing in Beijing and their creator is not allowed to meet with me. I have put pressure behind my request and have demanded Mayor Chun-qiao's direct attention. I am sure Chun-qiao is experiencing difficulty. I am sure my enemies are doing this to me on purpose. They know Yu's talent. They are clear that once Yu and I get together we will be an invincible team. Yu can help me promote Maoism single-handedly. He writes, composes and directs. He has a background in folk melodies and a degree in classical Western music. He has deep roots in traditional opera and a strong sense of modernism. He is trained in composition and plays almost every instrument.
I give Chun-qiao ten days to present me with Yu. Finally, when I am in the middle of reviewing Taking the Tiger Mountain by Wit at the Hall of Mercy, Chun-qiao comes to me with the news that Yu has been escorted to Beijing.
Where is he? I ask, so excited I raise my voice. The actor on the stage thinks that I am yelling at him and swallows his lines.
Yu is in the Guest House of Beijing at the moment, Chun-qiao whispers in my ear. He is in terrible shape. He hasn't had a chance to take off the prison uniform and he smells like a chamber pot.
Send him!
A half-hour later Yu Hui-yong arrives. The moment Madame Mao Jiang Ching lays eyes on the half ghost and half man, she stands up and quickly walks up to him. She reaches out and offers both her hands. I regret not having met you earlier, Yu.
The composer/playwright begins to tremble. He is unable to utter a word. He looks like a sick old man with gray hair and messy beard. He wears a borrowed suit. How can I ever pay back your kindness, Madame? He weeps.
Let's work together, replies Madame Mao.
By now the opera has come to its end. The curtain descends and then rises. The actors line up. The audience claps. The sound becomes louder. The security people run back and forth between the stage and the audience. It is a signal for Madame Mao to get on the stage. The weeping Yu gets up and tries to make a way for his savior.
Come with me, Yu, Madame Mao says. Come with me onto the stage.
The man is shocked.
Madame Mao takes Yu's arm and pushes him, smiling.
The man follows.
On stage Madame Mao Jiang Ching centers herself with Yu standing right next to her. The two clap and pose for photos.
The romanticism in Yu's composition moves me. Being with him is like being in a dream. He is not so attractive in appearance; neither tall nor strong, he has a broad forehead and a jaw that is too square. But below the thick eyebrows is a pair of bright eyes. He inspires me as a great artist. Since he and I are from the same province, Shan-dong, we are able to reflect on our favorite childhood tunes. I invite him for tea every day. He is humble to a fault. He won't sit down without a long string of thank-yous. He won't open his mouth unless I order him to comment. He always carries a notebook and opens it when I speak. He waits on me. It makes me laugh, because he is so serious. Very silly. I tell him that I don't want to be treated like a portrait on the wall. I want him to have fun and I want myself to have fun. My life has felt too much strain already. Think of a way to relax me. Tonight we don't talk about work. Tonight we talk nonsense.
It takes him weeks to feel comfortable with me. Finally he is himself again. He starts to bring instruments to play for me at tea. Two-string violin, flute and three-string guitar. He is a gift. We chat and he hums me rice songs, drum tunes and ancient operas that imitate the sound of desert winds. Sometimes I join him. I sing arias from The Romance of the West Chamber. We tease each other and break into laughter. His voice is poor but his singing is charming. It has a style of its own. His soul is steeped in music. Like a student I ask him questions. He is the most confident in those moments. He brings me books he has written—A Collection of Drum Songs of Shan-dong, A Collection of Folk Songs