Becoming Madame Mao (31 page)

August 1. She and Mao meet again in his study. He tells her that he has written a letter in response to an organization called the Red Guards. I am adding new divisions to your force. He sits her down. I am giving you wings. The students are from the Middle School of Qinghua University. They are even younger than your kids. They can't wait to do what your kids are doing.

I like the title the Red Guards. It shows guts. Red, the color of the revolution, and Guards, your defender. Have you given them any inscription?

I have. A red armband with my calligraphy,
Red Guards,
on it.

She asks him if she can join him to inspect the Red Guards' representatives. I'd like to offer my support. She is welcomed. I have it scheduled on August 18, he says. Show up with me at the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Tiananmen Square.

Dawn, August 18, 1966. Tiananmen Square is packed with one and a half million students and workers. It is an ocean of red flags. The entire Boulevard of Long Peace is blocked by youths from all over the country. Everyone wears a red armband with Mao's yellow calligraphic
Red Guards.
The crowd extends miles, from the Gate of Xin-hua to the Security Building, from the Golden Water Bridge to the Imperial Front Gate. Upon the news of Mao's inspection, hundreds and thousands of student organizations have changed their title overnight into Red Guards, including Kuai Da-fu's faction the Jing-gang Mountain Group. The green uniform and red armband on the left arm is the look. The crowd sings:
The golden sun rises in the East. A long life to our great leader and savior Chairman Mao.

Eleven o'clock. In the midst of the melody of "The East is Red" comes stormy clapping. The million and a half shout. Tears pour. Some bite their sleeves to hold their cries. Mao appears on top of the Gate of Heavenly Peace. He moves slowly toward the bars at the edge of the platform. He wears the same identical army uniform and armband as the youths. The cap with a red star on the top sits on his big head. He walks in the middle with Madame Mao Jiang Ching on his right and Marshal Lin Biao on his left. They wear the same costumes as Mao.

***

I feel that my life is so complete that I can die in happiness. The crowd pushes us like morning tides. It is my first time being seen in public with Mao shoulder to shoulder. The king and his lady. We are wrapped by the waves of sound.
Long live Chairman Mao and salute to Comrade Jiang Ching!

Still moving we come down the gate toward the crowd. The security guards line up to form a human path to assure our way. We pay no attention to colleagues behind. The two of us stride along the bar, looking down at the ocean of the rocking heads.

Long live!

Ten thousand years of long life!

We are descending. Suddenly, as if seized by emotion, Mao stops short and walks back up the gate. He walks quickly all the way to the right corner and leans against the bar. Taking off his cap he strikes his arms and shouts,
Long live my people!

I am ready to climb a mountain made of knives for Chairman Mao, young Kuai Da-fu swears at a meeting where Madame Mao Jiang Ching arranges for him to meet Chun-qiao. It doesn't take long for Chun-qiao to enlighten him.

When will time mature? Kuai Da-fu asks.

Listen to your heart's call, Madame Mao answers. What does Chairman Mao teach us?

Pull up the weeds by the roots.

Here we go.

Seek the biggest root, says Chun-qiao.

We need a breakthrough, nods Madame Mao Jiang Ching.

***

Midnight, January 13, 1967. Mao has a warm meeting with Vice Chairman Liu at the Grand Hall of the People. The next day Liu is arrested and held overnight by the Red Guards.

It is not the end of Liu, but it is a strong punch in the stomach. In Mao's world one is put in constant confusion and terror. Throughout the Cultural Revolution Mao makes Jiang Ching believe that she is inheriting China. What's hidden from her is that Mao makes the same promise to others, including those whom she considers his enemies, Deng Xiao-ping and Marshal Ye Jian-ying. When Deng is made to believe that he has a hold on the nation's power, Mao switches and passes the power key to another man.

Madame Mao knows her husband's tactics as well as anyone. But during this season of fever she believes she is exempt. She thinks of herself as the prime mover of Mao's salvation. She plays her role with such conviction that she has lost herself. She sacrifices more than she knows.

I am concerned about Nah. I ask her to help me control the military. She has graduated from the People's University with an advanced degree in history. But Nah is a crooked seed that won't sprout. To help her I ask Marshal Lin to introduce me personally to Wu Fa-xian, the commander of the air force. I ask if Wu can offer Nah a position as a senior editor at
The Liberation Army.
The favor is granted and Nah goes to work. A few weeks later my daughter tells me that she is bored. No matter how much saliva I waste, she is not going back.

For the past two weeks my worries about Nah have kept me from sleep. I try to get help from Mao but his mood has soured. He is frustrated that he can't generate the public's hatred toward Vice Chairman Liu. Mao thinks that Liu's popularity is a conspiracy itself. Crack the nut! Mao said the last time we are together. He doesn't care about Nah's future. He has asked me to choose between helping him or helping Nah.

Today I am working on someone else's daughter. I am helping Mao. Her name is Tao, the daughter of Vice Chairman Liu from his previous marriage. Tao resents her father's divorce and doesn't get along with her stepmother. I visit Tao and take her out for lunch. I offer her the chance to be a Maoist. I listen to her patiently and direct her thoughts. I press on until she is able to express herself freely without fear.

I think my father is a capitalism promoter, the girl begins.

Yes, Tao, Madame Mao Jiang Ching nods gently. You are getting the justice you deserve. Firm your tone and trim your phrase. Take off the "I think." Say, My father is a capitalism promoter. Say it clearly. Think about how your stepmother made your father abandon your mother. Think about how she takes up your mother's spot in the bed. Recall your misery as a child. Wang Guang-mei ought to pay for your suffering. Don't cry, Tao. I feel your pain. My child, this is your aunt Jiang Ching speaking. Uncle Mao is behind you. Let me tell you, Mao has put out his own big-character poster on August 5. The title is
BOMBARD THE HEADQUARTERS
. I am sure you know whom he is bombarding, don't you? It is to save your father. To save him from being kicked out of history. You must help him. Uncle Mao and I know that you disagree with your father and stepmother. You are an outcast of the Liu family. Here is your chance to establish yourself as a true revolutionary. Tao, nobody else will speak for you. You must do it for yourself. Catch the light in your dark life, girl. Come on, write your thoughts down and read them at tomorrow's rally.

The girl trembles as she finishes her speech. The title is "The Devil's Soul—In Denouncing My Father Liu Shao-qi." The effect is overwhelming. The story of the Lius' corruption spreads overnight. Colored by rumor and fueled by imagination the monstrous details travel from ear to ear. Cartoons illustrating the Lius as bloodsuckers are all over China's walls and buildings. The couple are described as traitors and Western agents since their cradle days.

August 25. Kuai Da-fu leads five thousand Red Guards to spread leaflets for the upcoming event called "Trial of the Lius." Kuai Da-fu marches across Tiananmen Square and shouts through the amplifiers,
Down, smash, boil and fry Liu Shao-qi and his partner Deng Xiao-ping!

I am sitting in the greenroom of the Beijing Worker's Stadium. It is eight o'clock in the morning. The stadium is packed with forty thousand Red Guards, students, workers, peasants and soldiers. I have come to test my power. Kuai Da-fu has been in the front cheerleading the crowds. The sound is ear-blasting.

Kuai Da-fu has been holding over fifty members of the congress and Politburo hostage. Among them the mayor of Beijing, the head of the Cultural Bureau, and Luo Rei-qing, the former minister of national defense. They are the men who believe that they needn't respect me because their loyalty toward Mao will make him back them in the event of misunderstanding. Well, we'll see.

Luo Rei-qing is in a manure basket. His leg is broken. He had resisted arrest by jumping off a building. Two Red Guards now carry him up with a shoulder-pole. He looks like an old goat being carried to market. Madame Mao Jiang Ching hears a burst of laughter from the crowd. On the makeshift stage, her enemies are lined up. Their hands are cuffed in the back. Kuai Da-fu gives each subject a dunce cap with his name written on it and crossed out by dripping black ink. In the meantime the crowd sings Mao's teaching:
Revolution is not a dinner party. Revolution is violence.

She has told Kuai Da-fu that Mao is happy with his achievements. Although she didn't say that Mao wants the men harmed, Kuai Da-fu has figured out what Mao would like to have done.

I shout slogans with Kuai Da-fu.
Mao's teaching is thunder that splits the sky and a volcano that breaks the ocean bed! Mao's teaching is truth!

Mao has let me see the secret of ruling. Marshal Peng De-huai was a loyalist who once played a key role in establishing the republic. However, Mao told me that it didn't mean that Peng wouldn't turn into an assassin. Mao's ability to adapt to emotional change keeps him safe all these years. I don't see him suffer regrets. He is convinced that heartlessness is the price he has to pay.

She spellbinds the audience. Five hundred thousand Red Guards all over the country are at her command. They are more powerful than the soldiers. They are free-spirited and creative. The meeting lasts for four hours. It ends with the men ridiculed and beaten up. The stubborn Luo lost both of his legs.

Don't stop until we drive the enemies off the edge! Madame Mao shouts hysterically in the greenroom. She is excited and frightened at the same time. Kang Sheng has told her that there are serious rumors going around that her enemies will "finish Mao's woman in her own bed." Kang Sheng has traced the source to the military; this panics Madame Mao even more. The "old boys" like Marshal Ye Jian-ying, Chen Yi, Xu Xiang-qian and Nie Rong-zhen are Vice Chairman Liu's close friends. They are frustrated with Mao's elusive behavior. The anger is so great that the atmosphere in Beijing smokes. The word "kill" is in the air. It is a tradition to make an unfit emperor's concubine the victim. Killing her would teach the emperor a lesson. The tragic love story between Emperor Tang and Concubine Yang is a classic. Killing the woman is a proven method for healing relationships between warlords.

***

I am learning to kill. I am trying not to shake. There is no middle ground, I tell myself. Kill or be killed. On February 10, 1967, a congressional meeting takes place. The string between the oppositions tightens. The focus is whether or not to acknowledge my leadership in the army; whether Kuai Da-fu and his Red Guards are allowed to open branch offices in the army, and whether the students should be permitted to organize rallies to criticize the army heads. All meetings end up with each side banging the table. Later on a secret letter of petition signed by the "old boys" is delivered to Mao by Marshal Tan Zhen-lin.

I am sure Tan has never imagined that I would get a chance to read the letter. But I do. Mao shows it to me voluntarily. In the letter I am described as a "white-boned demon," a bloodsucker and a bad cloud hanging over the sky of the Communist Party. I am demanded as a sacrifice.

You are left with no choice, Mao says, flipping himself in his indoor swimming pool. He looks like a fat otter. Too much pork with sugar and soy sauce, I think to myself.

What are you going to do? he asks, floating. Marshal Tan says that he has never cried, but now is crying for the Party.

I look around trying to find a place to sit, but there are no chairs. I haven't been to the pool since its renovation. I don't know what Tan means, I say.

Mao dives into the water and then resurfaces. Why don't we read his letter one more time, then?

He is quitting the Party's membership. And he has done three things he regrets in life.

One?

That he is living today ...

He is ashamed.

Second, he regrets following you and that he became a revolutionary; and third...

He regrets ever joining the Communist Party.

Precisely, Chairman.

Mao rolls over and swims with his belly up. It makes him look like he is holding a ball. He closes his eyes and continues to float. After a while he swims toward the edge.

I watch him climb out. The water falls from him in silver streams. He has gained a tremendous amount of weight. The muscles are puffy on his chest and arms. Below his swelling belly, his legs are extremely thin. He picks up a towel and steps into gray shorts.

Call Premier Zhou to arrange a meeting. I'll talk to the old boys on the eighteenth. By the way I want you to join me. Lin Biao and his wife too.

My sky brightens—Mao is picking up the gun himself.

I call up Kang Sheng and Chun-qiao to celebrate the news.

The meeting of historical significance opens on the evening of February 18, 1967. Premier Zhou is the host. Lin's wife Ye and I come early along with Kang Sheng, Chun-qiao and his disciple Yiao Wen-yuan. We sit on the left side of a long table with Mao and Premier Zhou on each end. We are all dressed in the People's Liberation Army uniform.

I am excited and a little nervous. I worry that I don't look tough enough. Ye is better. She is a typical military wife who can bang the table louder than her husband. Since Mao wants Lin to be his successor, Ye has been acting like a second lady. She is careful with me, though. She has learned Wang Guang-mei's lesson. She compliments me on every occasion and invites me to speak at the Institute of the People's Liberation Army. She shows her appreciation.

Ye reminds me of a midwife in my village who powdered her skin with flour in order to make herself look like a city woman with pale skin. Ye never tells me about her background. She avoids the subject when I ask. She is not proud of her origin. I am sure it's low. I am glad that she doesn't speak foreign languages and I am glad that she doesn't like to read. I selfishly feel blessed that she acts a fool when speaking in front of the public. She is a lousy speaker. She once told me that every time she gets up on the stage she gets diarrhea afterwards.