Dreams of Joy - Lisa See [50]
“You sound like my uncle,” I retort. “Always crying wolf. I haven’t seen anything bad.”
“What about what just happened to Ping-li’s husband?”
“He deserved it!”
Z.G. shakes his head. We haven’t known each other very long, but it’s clear I’m frustrating to him, and he really bugs me.
“I’m going to say this again,” he says, attempting to add gentleness to his voice. “Your actions are dangerous—not only to yourself but to our hosts.”
“I refuse to believe that. Why would what I do have any consequences for them or anyone else for that matter?”
“It’s also dangerous to me,” Z.G. confides. “What do you think Party Secretary Feng Jin will report to the Artists’ Association about who I’ve brought to Green Dragon Village and how you’re corrupting the masses?” He switches to English. “You’re a foreigner. I still haven’t figured out how to keep you safe when we go back to Shanghai.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go back—”
He brushes aside my comment with an impatient wave of his hand. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “I want you to understand that I’m not immune to love. You of all people should know that. I know it’s impossible to keep young people apart if they want to be together. It takes only a few minutes, after all.”
His crudeness and bluntness shock me. I can’t imagine my father Sam ever saying anything like that to me.
“I see only one thing to do,” Z.G. says. “Keep the two of you near me. You will walk to and from the fields with Kumei from now on. No more going to the Charity Pavilion with Tao.”
“How do you know—”
“This is a small village. There is no privacy here. Everyone sees everything. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” He pauses to let that sink in. “In the evening, you will walk with me to the ancestral hall for the political-study session and our art lessons. You will hand out the paper and brushes by yourself. You don’t need help.”
“Then I’ll never get to see him—”
“Next Saturday night,” Z.G. goes on, speaking right over me, “we’ll have an exhibition of everyone’s best work. You and Tao will display your paintings of the Charity Pavilion.”
“But I haven’t done any paintings there,” I admit. “And neither has Tao.”
“I’m aware of that,” he says drily. “You and Tao are going to need to work on those right away. So, after our lesson in the ancestral hall, the two of you will return to the villa with me.”
“I don’t want anyone to think I’m special—”
“They won’t think you’re special when they see how I treat you. I’m going to teach you how to draw and you’re going to learn. I’m going to give you homework and you’re going to do it. I’m not going to be nice. Everyone accepts that Tao has talent. You? I’m not so sure you have great talent, but you’re better than anyone else in this place. Therefore, from now on the three of us will have private lessons in the front courtyard. We will keep the gate open, so everyone can see us. Soon people will understand that your visits to the Charity Pavilion were only about drawing and painting. Nothing else. If you’re lucky, they’ll forget about you in a day or two. Once that happens, if I have to step away for a few minutes …”
Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe this will even be a good thing. Tao and I can work a full day in the fields and then at night have our special lesson. We’ll learn from Z.G., but we’ll also be together in a way that won’t lead to anything too dangerous. I’m nineteen and I’m not dumb. Things have happened very fast with Tao. And, as Z.G. pointed out, I know perfectly well where making out can lead.
“What happens after Saturday?” I ask.
“Let’s see when Saturday comes. Just remember, a person is his—or her—history. If your history isn’t good, then you won’t be good. A rebel as a five-year-old will be a rebel as a young man and will die a rebel. So what are you, Joy? What is your history and what are you going to be?