Mao's Last Dancer - Li Cunxin [84]
I could hardly believe what I had heard. I was going to be free.
Suddenly, I felt only compassion toward Consul Zhang. I understood that he only represented the government’s desires, what was best for China and the Communist Party. Unlike me, he had to go back and would probably never manage to get out again. He had been kind to me the whole time I was in Houston.
“I’m sorry, Consul Zhang,” I said sincerely.
He looked at me with a barely detectable hint of empathy and led me downstairs to Elizabeth and Charles.
I kissed and hugged Elizabeth and told her that I loved her. I thanked Charles for saving my life. He was a man of great integrity.
I didn’t want to say anything to the reporters but Charles knew they wouldn’t leave me alone until I did. So, I walked out of the Chinese Consulate and faced a sea of microphones, flashing lights, and cameras, and with Elizabeth by my side I managed a few simple words: “I am very happy to be able to stay with my wife and in America. I would like to do nice things for China and American art in the future.”
I could hardly believe it. I was going to be free …
Afterword
My new life with Elizabeth began like an East-meets-West fairy tale, but it didn’t work out the way we both had hoped, even though we loved and cared for each other. We were too young. My poor English prevented us from deeply understanding each other. We faced the harsh reality of enormous cultural differences, and our marriage eventually failed. We suffered greatly and I felt terribly alone in the world. I had no one to go to, and no home to go to. My parents and family in China were totally cut off from me. I didn’t even know whether my defection had caused them further hardship in life, or difficulties for them with the Chinese government. I feared for their safety. There was no way back for me.
I didn’t blame Elizabeth for our failed marriage. I blamed myself, and I blamed fate. I felt like a total failure. I shrank into my own protective cocoon. The only way I could pull myself out of my misery was to pour myself into dancing. Ballet was my salvation.
Within a year I was promoted to principal dancer status at the Houston Ballet. I danced many leading roles, in most of the classical ballets: Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Romeo and Juliet, and countless contemporary ballets. I toured and performed in many countries, learned about and experienced different cultures, but I didn’t stop there. I continued to work hard. I gave everything I had to each role I danced and acted. Teacher Xiao’s stories continued to inspire and motivate me. I even won a bronze and two silver medals at international ballet competitions in Russia, Japan, and America. They were like the Olympics of the dance world. Many ballet companies invited me to perform with them as a guest star, and my dance career went from strength to strength.
Then I had a career-shattering accident at my last international ballet competition in Moscow. Just minutes before I was to dance in the first round, I took a near fatal fall, injuring my back during one of the big leaps. I didn’t realize how severe the injury was, so, with determination and perseverance, I finished the competition and received a bronze medal. Later, I was diagnosed with two herniated discs in my lower spine.
The injury was an enormous setback in my dance career, and in my life. I was devastated. I felt frightened by the prospect of never being able to dance again. Ballet was all I had known since the age of eleven. It was my passion, my life. How could I, once again, be left on my own with an unknown future? Now I was like a soaring bird who had been suddenly shot down, a caged tiger once again.
I was put on bed rest for several months by the doctor. My frustration and despair were beyond description. I was told by the doctor that my chances of ever being able to dance again were very slim. Many people doubted that