Becoming Madame Mao - Anchee Min [78]
In the mirror she sees a backyard concubine on her way to being forgotten. Is she turning into Zi-zhen? She has never seen Zi-zhen. She has heard vivid descriptions of her: an old hag with a birdlike face, wrapped in hay hair. Once in the past she tested her husband to see if there were remains of his romance with Zi-zhen.
A soft wind breathing through the grass, was Mao's comment.
***
There is no one else she can talk to. In frustration she turns to Kang Sheng. She lets him know that it is an exchange. She promises to do the same for him when he needs her. He is delighted for the business. He has been promoted as the secretary of China's National Security Bureau. The apprentice of Stalin. Mao calls him "the steel teeth sunk in the republic's flesh." He comes to her rescue. Tips her off with most valuable information and guides her with advice. Ten years later he will produce a list of names, names of her enemies who he convinces her will destroy her if she doesn't destroy them first. The names will shock her. It will be two thirds of the congress. And he will encourage and hurry her to act. And she will be a soldier and will engage herself in battles out of utter fear. She will hold on to his handwritten list. The names he circled, TOP SECRET, FOR COMRADE JIANG CHING'S EYES ONLY. One hundred and five congressmen plus ninety regional representatives.
In the fifties Kang Sheng is my mentor. We are walking sticks for each other to get up, get around and get to the top. We can't do without each other. We make deals.
I am not Zi-zhen and I am not a masochist. I have tasted life and want more. Mao continues to disappoint me. He wants me to run the imperial backyard and expects me to be happy. But it was he who offered me the leading-lady role in the first place. It was our deal. It is he who breaks the promise, although he never says I don't love you or Let's get a divorce. This is worse. Because he just does it. He has taken away my identity. Ask people on the streets who the first lady is. Nine out of ten don't know. Jiang Ching doesn't sound familiar. Nobody has seen the first lady's picture in the papers. I would be fooling myself to say that it isn't Mao's wish.
A woman's biggest wish is to be loved —there is no deeper truth. I feel ripped from the essence of life. I come to feel for Zi-zhen. I identify with her sadness and cling to my own sanity. The Forbidden City has been the home of many who have gone mad. I wander in Mao's grounds and watch men and women act like old-time eunuchs. Like dogs, they sniff. They spend every second of their waking time trying to please the emperor. They can tell when the emperor is ready to "let go" of his concubine.
I am aware of my position. My role has no flesh. Nevertheless, illusion is available if I work to create it. I am still Mao's official wife. I have to get on the stage. Although dim, there are still lights over my head. Mao's men have tried to take away my costume. I can feel the pulling of my sleeves. But I won't let go. I am holding on to my title. I won't let the magic of my character fade away. Hope guides me and revenge motivates me.
Kang Sheng is a man of obsession. He is known for double-hand calligraphy. He also collects jade, bronze and stone carvings. He once commented that the great poet and calligrapher Guo Mourou's strokes were "worse than what I can write with my foot." It is not an exaggeration. When Kang Sheng speaks about art, he is a scholar of meticulous dedication. His mouth is a river from which magnificent phrases flow. At those moments, all his wrinkles spread like spring curl-grass under sunshine—it would be hard for anyone to imagine what he does for a living.
I am still learning my trade. I come regularly to Kang Sheng's