Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [69]
Zhang and I were shocked. “We spent most of the money on food while we were there,” I replied.
“I want every remaining dollar here by tomorrow,” she demanded.
Being good and honest Red Guards we gave all our remaining money to the ministry the following day. I was desperately disappointed—my family needed it more than the ministry did.
Going back to America so soon meant that I wouldn’t be able to see my parents until after my return the following year. I knew they’d be eager to hear from me, so I wrote them a letter. I will miss you dreadfully, I wrote, especially on New Year’s Eve. I will raise my glass full of Tsingtao beer in a faraway foreign land and drink to your health and happiness. I will kneel and kowtow to you. If you sneeze, you will know that it is probably because I am mentioning your names. I hope you will understand how much I want to come home and tell you everything about America. It would take me too long to write it all down. Please be patient and wait for another year. Before you know it I’ll be back. I have brought presents back for you. I will bring them home next year. I am sending with this letter a flight safety card so you can see the picture of the plane I flew on. I wish you could have the chance to fly one day. I’m sending with this letter all the love in my heart. I want to tell Niang that I miss her dumplings and all her delicious food.
On the third day after I returned, Zhang Shu asked me to teach a master class to all the ballet teachers in the academy to show them what I had learned while I was away. Teach my teachers? I felt nervous about that, but it went well.
I was happy to see my good friends at the Beijing Dance Academy again, especially the Bandit. I gave him an “I Love New York” button and some postcards from the cities I’d been to. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to wear the button in public, but he loved it all the same.
“You didn’t fall in love with a pretty big-nosed girl while you were there?” he asked suddenly.
I laughed. “Don’t be silly. Of course not!”
“What do you really think about America?” he asked.
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wanted to tell him about the freedom I had tasted but I knew this would make him miserable. “There were many clean and wide streets, a lot of cars, tall buildings, and good living standards,” I said instead. “But the best thing was Ben. He was so kind and I love his teaching.” Then I told him about the White House, about New York, and all the electronic gadgets. He was especially excited about the ATM machine. I told him I hoped he’d have the chance to see it all for himself one day, and quickly changed the subject.
I received my visa papers from Houston toward the end of the second week and immediately went to the Ministry of Culture to reapply for my passport. But when I arrived the deputy had some devastating news. “Cunxin,” she said casually, “I’ve just received a directive from the minister’s office. The minister has changed his mind. He has refused your request for a passport.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“The minister is concerned about potential Western influences. He thinks you are too young.”
“But I’ve been there once already and the Western influence did nothing to me! Didn’t you read our report?”
“Yes, I did. But the minister has made up his mind.”
I walked out of the building in total despair.
Back at our academy I charged into Director Song’s office. “Director Song, did you know about this?”
“Yes, but only this morning. The minister thinks you are too young to go to America by yourself. It is a dark and filthy world out there.”
“But the minister already gave me permission before I left America!” I said, full of emotion. “I have to go back! To learn more, to serve our country better!”
“I understand your feelings. But you must trust the decision of the party. You shouldn’t question the wisdom of the minister’s decision. You are only a tiny part of the communist cause. Forget your personal desires.”
I left Director Song’s office frustrated and angry. I walked right out of