Becoming Madame Mao - Anchee Min [135]
In muttered and half-swallowed words, Mao orders the removal of Deng Xiao-ping. The order is carried out immediately. The nation is confused.
Madame Mao Jiang Ching loses no time. She takes advantage of the situation and comes hopping onto the scene. In Mao's name she promotes her future cabinet members: Chun-qiao as the premier, his disciple Yiao as the vice premier, Wang as the minister of national defense and Yu as the minister of culture and arts.
Yu wants me to understand his suffering. He is withering like overheated summer grass. He is terrified by the new title. But I refuse to let him off the hook. We are standing face to face in my office having an argument. I push the window open to let in the cold air. I am frustrated and upset. The sky is a sapphire blue sheet with clawmark-like clouds pulling through it. I shall stand behind you, I promise. You can be a figurehead boss. Your assistants will sweep up the dust after you. So what if you are an artist? You are expected to do things differently. A great genius is supposed to have horns, I have already told everyone. People will understand.
He growls, mutters and begs.
My voice turns tender. A rainbow is forming in front of you, Yu. All you have to do is open your eyes.
He wipes his moist forehead with his sleeve and his lips begin to stretch. I ... can't do it. I am—
Don't tell me about your fear. We have brought in the ship! Yu Hui-yong, the ship is in! Come on, get on deck!
She goes on, her gestures animated, arms shooting out and waving back and forth in the air. One more blow, the fruit of victory will fall into our hands!
Yu ceases struggling.
Madame Mao sits down, sinks into the sofa.
Other cabinet members stare at them.
Yu goes to the windowsill and picks up a flower pot. He gently loosens its soil with his finger. It is a wild kind, he suddenly says. The leaves drape around like a crown. The stems will bear little white flowers. He turns the plant toward the sunlight. I love to watch the way plants lift their leaves and the way they deepen their green. I really do.
Madame Mao stands erect like the statue of Lenin on Red Square in Moscow. There is no sentimentality in her voice. The bottom line is that I will allow no betrayal. You are my man. She pauses to restrain herself but tears suddenly pour. If you have to make me beg, I am on my knees now. I beg you to stop insulting me ... I am not cold and without feeling by nature ... I have chosen love before. But it didn't bring meaning to life. I have lost the soul of an artist ... It is my ill fate. One can cure illness, but not fate. The battle I fight is inevitable. My heart is breaking ... Let me remind you, all of you, that there is no way out now. We are all in it together and we are soldiers. So let's run toward where the fire is.
***
September 9, 1976. The history of China turns a page. At the age of eighty-three, Mao Tse-tung exhales his last breath. Upon learning the news from Xin, Jiang Ching forces her way into the Chrysanthemum-Fragrance Study. She sorts through Mao's letters and documents looking for a will. But there is none. Turning around, she orders a Politburo meeting at the Purple Light Pavilion. She wants to announce the Chairman's death personally.
No one else comes but her cabinet members. She checks with her secretary on what's going on and is told that a new figure, a man named Hua Guo-feng, a provincial secretary and Mao's hometown boy, has taken over. He is planning to speak to her—Mao has left a will appointing him as his successor.
Ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! She catches her own echo in the empty hall.
The palace is quiet. The day is windless. Mao's body lies at the Hunan Quarter of the Grand Hall of the People.