Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [55]
My second brother, Cunyuan, was a volunteer at the local hospital in Qingdao looking after some of the earthquake victims, who came in by the trainload.
Then, in September, the unthinkable event …
Our beloved Chairman Mao died.
China stopped. The whole nation mourned. I remember gathering in front of a loudspeaker on the playground and hearing the announcement of his death by his successor, Hua Guofeng. We cried our hearts out. I had worshipped Chairman Mao. I would have died for him. And now he was gone.
The day after we heard about Mao’s death, the Bandit and I went to a quiet corner of our academy grounds and sat on a concrete Ping-Pong table to talk about this shocking news. China’s future was now uncertain. Mao’s death could only mean immense insecurity.
“There will be total chaos in China soon,” the Bandit said despondently. “We should be prepared!”
A month after Mao’s death, our academy received another enormous shock. Madame Mao was arrested along with the other members of the Gang of Four.
The Gang of Four were removed quickly and easily. Neither the military nor the police backed them. At our academy we carried on our normal routines, except when the political heads were removed. This meant no more political studies and more time to practice our dancing.
Hua Guofeng made no attempts to change the direction Chairman Mao had set for the country. For the first six months it was business as usual. But everyone could feel that change was inevitable. The military adopted a low profile. Few people knew what was really going on.
In the meantime, my dancing had caught Vice-Director Zhang Ce’s attention. Suddenly, not only was I Teacher Xiao and Zhang Shu’s targeted student, but now Zhang Ce’s “talent.” The end-of-year exam was so enjoyable that I could have done it again and again, even with all the future uncertainties in China. I had found my confidence at last.
FIFTEEN
The Mango
July 1977: our sixth year at the Beijing Dance Academy. We were allowed to go home for our three-week summer holiday this year, but we could stay back and practice if we wanted to.
I wrote to my parents and told them I had decided to stay. Of course I dearly wanted to see my family: the thought of the cricket sounds, eating my niang’s dumplings, all seemed so tempting, but this was the first time I felt happy staying on.
During these three weeks a campaign to apprehend the followers of the Gang of Four started. The Vice-Minister of Culture, along with all other key cultural ministers, was arrested. Our vice-director, Zhang Ce, and Director Xiao of our academy were apprehended. I will never forget Zhang Ce’s desperate face as he walked out of the academy gate. He had done nothing wrong except be appointed by one of Madame Mao’s followers. Now he was disgraced.
I was determined not to let these events distract me from my practice. I had to concentrate. Zhang Shu and several other teachers stayed back at the academy too.
One day Teacher Xiao suddenly appeared in the studio when I was practicing my turns. I was still working on five consecutive pirouettes and was having tremendous problems breaking this barrier.
“If it were easy, wouldn’t every dancer be doing it?” Teacher Xiao said. “Cunxin, have you ever tasted a mango?”
“No,” I answered. I wondered what he was talking about this time.
“Mango is the most wonderful fruit! I want you to treat pirouettes like a mango—admire the unique shape, notice the color, enjoy the smell. Feel the weight, then cut the skin