Becoming Madame Mao - Anchee Min [119]
Wang Guang-mei deserves the treatment. She who stepped on my toes by leading others to think that she was the first lady of China. She whose elation was caught by the camera and printed in papers throughout the world. Did you say with your pretty, cheery lips, I am sorry Madame Mao is not well enough to greet you personally? I never gave you permission to say that. You should never have gone abroad, should never have worn that priceless white pearl necklace and that pair of black high-heeled shoes—you should never have stolen my role. Now try the costume on for the last time and be an object of ridicule. Under the sun, this clear April day, take your turn across my stage of hell.
Madame Mao admits to herself that she admires Wang Guang-mei regardless. Madame Mao is almost touched by Wang Guang-mei.
I hear my husband sigh at night, Wang Guang-mei confesses to the crowd. I have never seen him so sad. I regret that he closes his eyes to reality. His love for China and Chairman Mao is blind. And I understand him. He can't go on without serving China. It is his faith, his purpose for living. As a wife I accept my husband's fate. I accept my reality.
Madame Mao Jiang Ching wishes that she could do the same with Mao. To lay herself on the altar of love. To live the opera. But she won't. It makes her feel tragic. She stares at the report, and gradually anger takes over. The more Wang Guang-mei demonstrates her will to suffer for Liu, the deeper it cuts Madame Mao inside—she is now desperate to see Wang Guang-mei destroyed.
At the back of the stage, Wang Guang-mei struggles with the Red Guards. She had been dragged here. She points at the garment she is wearing, a brown suit, and says, This is already a costume. I wore it to meet foreign guests.
We don't care. Today is a day you wear what we put on you.
I can't. The dress is not proper; besides, it is too small.
You had it on during your trip to the Philippines.
It was years ago. I have aged and lost my shape.
Sounds like you have forgotten who you are.
I am Wang Guang-mei.
No. You are the people's enemy ... You've got to wear this. I don't and I won't.
Wear it or we are going to make you wear it. Let me die, then.
No deal. We are putting you back on the stage. You are going to sink in the spit of millions.
Later on Madame Mao Jiang Ching listens over and over again to a live tape brought by Kuai Da-fu. On the tape Wang Guang-mei's voice changes. She speaks like a heroine: You can force me to kneel but you can't take away my dignity.
Get down! the crowd shouts. You smelly wife of the anti-Communist! You are nothing but a spy and a traitor! To allow you freedom is to allow crime. This is the proletarian dictatorship at its best.
Strip me, then, Wang Guang-mei replies. The rest of her words disappear in the shouting of a crowd of three hundred thousand: Down with Liu Shao-qi! Down with Wang Guang-mei! Long live Chairman Mao! A salute to our dearest Madame Mao Jiang Ching!
The scene is grand but actress Jiang Ching suddenly breaks down sobbing.
It has been raining for three days. The drizzle is like tears leaking from the sky. This is an unusual autumn. The bare electric lights throughout the ancient city of Kai-feng in Hebei Province tremble in the wind like ghost eyes.
Vice Chairman Liu's eyes have been shut for days. He has turned seventy in prison. He has had a heart attack, suffers from high blood pressure and complications of diabetes and lung failure. He is unable to swallow. A feeding tube runs into his nose. This morning he opens his eyes. His surroundings are strange and the faces encountered are hostile. He shuts his eyes again and lies in silence. A cotton blanket is wrapped tight around his body.
The northern wind rustles through the courtyard at night. Two tall but leafless ancient trees in the quadrangle stand like