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Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [57]

By Root 548 0
turns.

I couldn’t turn naturally but my newfound inspiration with my jumps made me work even harder. I set impossible goals for myself. One night I went to the studio with a candle and a box of matches. I lit the candle and started to practice my turns. The candle threw only a faint light in front of me. It was hard, but I thought if I could turn in the dark, then turning in the light would be easy. I couldn’t risk switching the light on, for fear of my teachers catching me staying up so late. I continued this night after night. By the end of the term there were shallow indentations in the studio floor where I had endlessly, repeatedly, turned.

Many people were very surprised to see my rapid improvement, but not Teacher Xiao. One night, he did catch me practicing my turns. It was way past lights-out time. I thought he would be very angry, but he said he wasn’t surprised and we kept my nighttime practice sessions a secret between us.

Now I was practicing in those studios five times a day compared to the usual once-a-day routine of the other students. “I thought I worked hard as a student—I practiced three times a day, but five times is unheard of!” Teacher Xiao said, amazed. Then, more seriously: “Please look after your health. I want to see you last the distance.”

By this time, Mao’s chosen successor Hua Guofeng was under house arrest and Deng Xiaoping now became the leader of China. I felt a dramatic change of attitude within the Beijing Dance Academy. Previously, Deng Xiaoping had been denounced for his views. He didn’t care which system we used as long as it worked for China.

We had a new academy director, Song Jingqing, who decided that our six-year course of study should be extended for another year until February 1979. We’d wasted too much time, she said, studying politics to achieve technical excellence.

Even by the beginning of 1978 I could feel the real impact of Deng Xiaoping’s reforms. He was the first person who had dared to say that to follow Mao’s every word was wrong and that the political campaigns and studies must be stopped. Some Communist Party members were skeptical and so were many others. The Cultural Revolution had left such horrifying memories. Why should they believe new policies now? China was unsure.

It was during our last year at the academy that we began to openly practice our art form without being accused of being unbalanced students. Political pressure waned. Selected Western books, films, and performing groups began to appear in China. Getting hold of a foreign book or watching a foreign “colored film” soon became an obsession. We were desperate for Western knowledge. How thirsty we were for foreign literature and how fascinated with the Western world we had become!

Deng Xiaoping’s new policy created a breath of fresh air within our academy. The required bi-weekly Communist Youth Party meetings were reduced to one a month. My conflict between attending meetings and practicing ballet was resolved. Political party leaders no longer had the same influence.

For me, this extra year of study turned out to be my best yet. We started to watch old Russian ballet films such as The Stone Flower, Swan Lake, and Spartacus. We saw famous ballet stars like Galina Ulanova, Maya Plisetskaya, and of course Vladimir Vasiliev. We were even allowed to watch that famous Russian defector, Rudolf Nureyev, dancing with one of the Western world’s most respected ballerinas, Margot Fonteyn. Images of these extraordinary, inspiring dancers stayed in my mind.

It was around this time, when reading Western ballet books was no longer a crime, that I asked Teacher Xiao if it was he who had left that ballet book under my mat in the third year.

“Did you like it?” He smiled.

“Thank you.” I meant it from the bottom of my heart.

SIXTEEN

Change

Late 1978. Just months away from graduation. On a Saturday night in the biggest dance studio our teachers organized a party. All the senior students were invited.

There were elegant long dresses, and a round silver ball was hanging from the ceiling, spinning out hundreds

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