Becoming Madame Mao - Anchee Min [128]
She is sitting next to Mao, opposite Lin Biao and his wife, Ye Qiun. On the other side of the table sits Premier Zhou and his wife, Deng Yin-chao. She doesn't realize what is going on until the next morning. At the table she observes nothing unusual. Mao begins the ceremony by opening a bottle of imperial wine sealed in its original Ming dynasty porcelain vase 482 years earlier. He then lights incense. Let's celebrate the Moon Festival.
The dinner is elaborate, with sea cucumbers and other land and ocean delicacies. Mao uses his chopsticks to heap Lin's plate with tendons of tiger shot a week ago in Manchuria. The atmosphere is pleasant. She is not aware that her husband is starring in a live opera. She is in a sentimental mood. Mao had his secretary tell her that she must leave the banquet by exactly ten-thirty. She took it as an insult but nevertheless came to dinner. During the meal, she feels her heart ache over the courtyards, flowers and bamboo tree. She used to live here with Mao. The liquor makes the animal statues on the ancient stone tablets and fountains come to life. She turns to the other side. The little vegetable patch is a picture of a harvest. Beans are green and peppers are red. Again she is reminded of their life in Yenan.
The group is dressed casually except for Mao. He is oddly formal tonight, wearing a starched jacket buttoned up to the chin. After a toast he turns to Lin. How's the army doing?
Can't be beat.
Nice job you did in Wuhan.
It's nothing to squash the rebels.
The People's Liberation Army under your command has shown itself a good model for the people, Premier Zhou says, finally inserting his comment.
Lin has been working too hard, Lin's wife cuts in. His doctor begged him to stay in bed. But we all know that he is out of himself when he hears the Chairman call. He breathes for you, Chairman.
Very kind, very kind. Mao heaps two pieces of fried pork rib on Lin's plate and then fills his own cup with more wine. Ye Qiun, you must take good care of your man. He is the only one I've got—he has to run the business after I'm gone.
Premier Zhou seems to have no appetite, but tries to eat to please his host. His wife carefully picks oily fish skin out of her husband's plate and replaces it with green vegetables. Once in a while she watches her husband with concern. He eats slowly and is paying close attention to Mao.
So, what have you been doing, Premier?
Zhou wipes his mouth and states that he has just come back from a trip to Northern Three Province. I went there to check on the Red Guards who were sent there a year ago.
Oh, looking after the kids. Mao laughs and nods. And how are they? I have been wondering myself. Have they adapted to the situation well and have they been productive? I assume they know how to run tractors better than the peasants. They are educated and can read instructions, can't they? I expect them to produce a great harvest. It is a good year in terms of the weather.
Well, the picture is not so good, Premier Zhou answers. The youths and the locals don't get along. The youths don't know much about the importance of catching the seasons. They thought the machines could do everything at any time. But it was the rainy season. Hundreds of tractors entered the field—they were like frogs with their legs chopped off. They got stuck and couldn't move an inch. And it was too late when they realized their mistake. With the help of the locals they collected as much wheat as they could with sickles and left the rest of the grain to rot in the fields. The last day I was there, the kids used their clothes and blankets to bag up the grain and lay it out on their beds to dry—
Always a price for lessons, Mao interrupts. As if no longer interested in Zhou's details he turns to Jiang Ching. You are doing well, aren't you?
She doesn't know where he is heading so she quickly answers, Yes, Chairman, the opera films are doing beautifully. The troupes are making new ones. It will