Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [81]
Consul Zhang finally broke the silence. “Cunxin, do you understand what you have done?” he asked.
“I love Elizabeth and I married her. Is this against the law?” I replied.
“Yes! What you have done is against your government’s wishes and is illegal in China! You’re a Chinese citizen! Your government doesn’t recognize your marriage.”
“Consul Zhang, my lawyer, Mr. Foster, told me that China does recognize international marriage law. I married here in America and American law should be observed.”
He was incensed. “The foreigners will use you and dump you like a piece of trash! It’s not too late to change your mind. Just tell Elizabeth that you have made a mistake and want to walk away from it.”
“No,” I said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with Elizabeth.”
“We won’t recognize your marriage as legitimate. You don’t decide what you’re going to do with your life, the Communist Party does! You’re a Chinese citizen. You follow Chinese laws, not American laws.”
By now I was angry. “If you think Mr. Foster has informed me wrongly, let’s ask him about it,” I said.
Consul Zhang looked perplexed. “Mr. Foster and your friends have left. They are disgusted with what you have done! You are alone. We’re your friends. Everything will be forgiven if you go back to China as planned.”
I didn’t believe for a moment what Consul Zhang said about my friends. They must have been thrown out of the consulate. I knew the Chinese government would promise me anything to get me back to China.
There was a knock on the door and Consul Zhang left for a brief discussion with another man. I could hear whispers but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then Consul Zhang came back. He was trying hard to control his anger. “I want you to think about what we have just discussed. I’ll come back soon.”
I felt a sense of relief when he closed the door. I needed to gather my courage. I felt exhausted but I knew this was only the beginning of a long, nerve-racking night.
A few minutes later one of the vice-consuls general entered, an older man. He was very friendly and offered me something to drink. I politely refused. He began to try to convince me to go back to China, listing all the benefits there would be for my family. “Think of your parents and all your brothers back home! You don’t want to create any problem for them, do you?”
This was my greatest fear, that something terrible might happen to my family because of what I had done.
“I left my family when I was eleven. I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me,” I tried to tell him. I couldn’t implicate my family in this.
“You are the property of China,” the vice-consul general continued. “We have given you everything. We have the power to do anything we want with you. We don’t want to lose our star dancer! You simply have to listen to what we say. The party knows what’s good for you. Have you forgotten what the party has done for you?”
I remembered the years and years of lies about the West. I thought of Minister Wang who had refused to see me about my return to America. I thought of my lack of freedom in China, the desperate poverty that they had made sound so rich and glorious. “I don’t want to talk about the party,” I said.
“Who helped you to get married? Is it Ben? Is it someone in the American government?” he asked suddenly.
“No one has helped me. Would I have come to the consulate tonight if the Americans had helped me? Would they have advised me to come?” I asked.
The conversation with the vice-consul general went on for another half hour. Then a different consulate official replaced him for another half hour of interrogation and persuasion. It was like musical chairs. Every half hour another official would take over the interrogation. Each left without making any progress. In a strange way, I felt calmer and stronger as time went on.
During the interrogations I touched the scar on my arm, the one I received as a baby, the one that caused so much anxiety for my parents and that had now become a symbol of my