Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [73]
Finally I heard the voices of Teacher Xiao and the Bandit. “Wake up, Cunxin, wake up!”
I forced myself to open my eyes and look at their kind, caring faces. “Leave me alone. I want to go back to my dreams.”
“Cunxin, listen to me!” Teacher Xiao said. “You have two choices. Think of this as a card game: you can simply give up and stop participating or you can play on and see what happens. You have a long life and career in front of you. There will be triumphs as well as setbacks, but if you give up now you will never succeed!”
I looked first at Teacher Xiao and then at the Bandit. I burst into uncontrollable sobs. My anger, my disappointment, my injured pride and shattered beliefs all forced their way out.
The next day, from Director Song’s office, I made a phone call to Ben Stevenson in Houston. “I cannot come,” I told him. “My big leader in government say no.”
He asked me some questions I didn’t really understand. The only words I detected were “why,” “disappointed,” and “sad.” I kept asking him to repeat. Eventually he screamed down the phone in sheer frustration: “You! Come! Later!”
“No. Big leader say no. I. Write. Letter. For you.”
After I had spoken to Ben, I immediately phoned my village and asked for my parents. “Fifth Brother, it’s Cunxin. I am coming home.”
“Aren’t you going back to America?” he asked, surprised.
“No, not anymore,” I replied.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I will explain when I get back. The Minister of Culture thinks I’m too young to go back alone. I will call you once I get my train ticket.” I quickly put the phone down.
Two days later I purchased my train ticket, ready to go home for a three-week holiday. But that afternoon, as I was scanning through the People’s Daily newspaper, a headline caught my eye: MINISTER WANG, THE MINISTER OF CULTURE, WILL LEAD A DELEGATION TO SOUTH AMERICA FOR FIVE WEEKS.
I pulled the paper to my chest as though I had found a treasure and immediately ran to Teacher Xiao’s office.
“Teacher Xiao, Teacher Xiao! Read this!”
“I’ve read it already. The minister is going to South America for five weeks. What’s strange about that?”
“Who will be in charge of the ministry while he’s gone?” I asked.
Teacher Xiao suddenly understood. We walked down to level two together and knocked on Zhang Shu’s door.
“There may be a way for Cunxin to go to America after all,” Teacher Xiao said.
Teacher Xiao handed Zhang Shu the newspaper. He quickly scanned the headline.
“We can lobby the vice-minister in charge to ask permission for Cunxin to leave!” Teacher Xiao shouted excitedly.
“The vice-minister might be reluctant to take on the responsibility knowing Minister Wang refused it before,” Zhang Shu said thoughtfully.
“Can’t we lobby all the vice-ministers?” I suggested.
They looked at each other and laughed. “All five of them?” Zhang Shu shook his head.
They then discussed who was the key vice-minister and decided on Lin Muhan, a well-known intellect in China, a labeled rightist who had been through some horrifying times during the Cultural Revolution. He was now in charge of the educational area within the ministry and a strong advocate for talent. Zhang Shu felt he would be sympathetic toward my situation.
I wrote to my family and told them that I couldn’t go home just yet.
Our intense lobbying lasted over two weeks. Years later, Teacher Xiao told me that he and Zhang Shu had even gone to Lin Muhan’s residence in their final effort to get me back to America. This time they succeeded. Lin Muhan lobbied the four other vice-ministers and signed the permission for me to go to America for one year.
Passport in hand, I went to the US consulate in Beijing and my visa was granted within days.
I telephoned Ben. “I can come! Plane ticket, please!” I shouted, my heart blossoming like a flower.
My reservation was confirmed. I was to leave China in three days.
My last three days were frantically busy. All my friends wanted some special time alone with me. On Saturday night,