Becoming Madame Mao - Anchee Min [75]
Why don't we finish this business before I get too tired? the lover demands.
She protests. My mind has its own pleasure and I can force nothing.
He grips her arms with tense fingers. Against her struggles he pulls her over and forces his way inside her. She shivers, feeling that she is pushed out of her body. He moves on top of her. She watches the event with a third eye. He feels her constraint and struggles against it. After a while he gives up.
Perhaps I'm not as sympathetic to your needs as I'd like myself to be. He sits down on the edge of the bed. Or perhaps it is just one of those things that time wears out. He sticks up a finger to stop her from responding. I'd rather not go into it. No matter what's said or going to be said, it's pointless. It will be an unreasonable demand. Maybe you and I have become the past. My feet are on the breast of victory. I live more intensely in the present than I could ever in the past. I have no time for misery.
She shakes her head vigorously.
He nods to silence her.
She tries to hold back her tears.
He gets up and collects his clothes.
No! Please don't go!
Buttoning up his uniform he takes out a cigarette. The smoke eddies about his face.
She feels the way horror corners its victim.
What time is it? he asks.
She doesn't answer but gets up. Her clothes are wrinkled. Matted hair falls to her shoulders.
Reality doesn't discuss, it simply is, he says in a harsh tone and extinguishes the cigarette.
The bitter lines on her face suddenly deepen.
We will settle in Beijing. He goes to open the door. It'll be by Zhong-nan-hai in the Forbidden City. I'll occupy a compound called the Garden of Harvest. I've saved the Garden of Stillness for you.
13
WE HAVE WON CHINA and have moved into the Forbidden City. It is a city within a city, a vast park enclosed by high walls and containing the government offices and a number of splendid palaces. Our palace was designed in the Ming dynasty, built in 1368 and completed in 1644. It has golden roof tiles, thick wooden columns and high deep-red stone walls. The massive ornaments are on the themes of harmony and longevity. The craft is exquisite and the detail meticulous.
As his cabinet prepares for the establishment of the republic, my husband tries to relax in his new home on an island in the Zhong-nan-hai Lake. It takes him weeks to adjust to the spacious living quarters. The high ceiling in the Garden of Harvest distracts him. The space makes him fearful although there are guards behind every gate. Finally, after sleeping in different rooms, he moves to a quiet, less solemn and more modest corner called the Chrysanthemum-Fragrance Study.
Mao likes his door. It faces exactly south. The door panels are wide with ceiling-high windows. Natural light pours into his new room, which he enjoys. The sofas with extrasoft cushions, gifts from the Russians, were sent over by Premier Zhou En-lai. Mao has never sat on a sofa before. He doesn't feel comfortable. Can't get used to its softness. It gives him a sinking feeling. Same thing with the toilet. He prefers to squat on his heels like a dog. He keeps the sofas for visitors and orders himself an old-fashioned rattan chair. The outer space is the drawing room, which has been converted into a library with books piled from floor to ceiling along three walls. He doesn't pay attention to the furniture but is aware that all the furniture in the imperial city is made of camphor trees. Camphor wood has the reputation of continuing to live and breathe, producing a sweet scent even after it's made into furniture.
Original hand-bound manuscripts lie on top of the long narrow stands. In the middle of the room sits an eight-by-four-foot desk. On top of the desk is a set of brush pens, an ink jar, a tea mug, an ashtray and a magnifier. The inner room serves as Mao's bedroom. It has gray-white