Читать книгу F - Mei Zhi - Страница 14
ОглавлениеDirector Wu and the others left. One thing worried me: how F would deal with meeting his younger son. He was applying to join the Young Communist League, and had been asked repeatedly to draw a clear class line with his father.
I heard him pushing his bike up the steps. His father opened the door. Our son looked awkward, and went into his room.
I said, ‘You recognised him?’
‘He’s become a young man. I couldn’t resist kissing him on the forehead. I can’t stop seeing him as a child.’
The child reappeared and called out to his father, ‘I hope you’re all right. I’ve made you a cup of tea.’
I cheered up. I still had a close and harmonious family.
When the two of us retreated to what was now our bedroom, I felt a bit at a loss. He was no longer the same man. In some ways, he had become a stranger. More than once he said, ‘I’ve let you down, I’ve harmed you, I’ve treated no one else as badly as I’ve treated you, I can never repay my debt to you. I ruined the second half of my life, but I also ruined yours, I dragged my whole family into it.’
He put his head on my shoulder and wept.
‘Don’t say any more, I know all that, I’m never going to blame you.’ I lifted his big, heavy head and wiped away the tears.
He pulled me to the bedside and held my hand tight.
‘You can forgive me, but I can’t forgive myself. Whenever I thought of you and the children, I suffered agonising pain. I also felt guilty about the friends I implicated, but they had their own ideas and ideals. But in your case, you were innocent. What I most fear is that they will drag you out and expose you to the masses.’
‘Yes, I’ve also feared that.’
‘When I think of the friends I implicated, how they were locked up all those years, how they had to bear witness against me to my face to gain their freedom, I feel anguish. I haven’t seen them for ten years. They must have gone grey. Some have started wearing glasses, some have become fat and can no longer button up their clothes. A flogging by the masses would be easier to accept. How could I know it would continue for more than a decade, that they too would waste their finest years? They were so talented. I would rather go to the gallows than see them wrongly punished. But did I have a choice? It was like a drama, with me as the tragedian. I hope they can put their sufferings behind them.
‘In the interval between judgment and pronouncing judgment, they gave me soup and two dishes with two bowls of rice. That counts as special treatment. But a comrade from the Ministry of Public Security sat watching me, to observe whether I was afraid, whether I was heartbroken, whether I had lost my appetite. I gulped it down as always, to show they couldn’t defeat me. They had too simple a view if they thought they could damage a person’s spirit by such means.
‘Later, the prison authorities asked me to write down how I felt about the sentence. I said, “My heart is at ease but reason has not prevailed.” This surprised them. They moved me to an unheated cell. It was not until a few days ago that they moved me back to a big cell. But I ignored their petty measures.’
‘So, the food was not so bad?’
‘Each morning I received a cup of powdered milk and a steamed bun with jam. The food was sufficient in quantity. Sometimes I got boiled meat. But sometimes someone had put a lump of soil or an insect on it. I ignored them. I fished it out and ate the meat as usual.’
‘Do you know why that happened?’
‘The people who brought the food were in a bad mood. During the period of natural disasters we didn’t get meat for months on end. Sometimes we only got vegetables and steamed corn-bread, and on one occasion we got onion skins. Even that cost 20 yuan a month. You were lucky to be an official prisoner, for I wouldn’t have been able to pay for your provisions. You don’t know how lucky you were.’
We laughed.
There were no words to describe what had happened. We needed sleep, but there was one question I had to ask him. ‘When I got out of gaol, I heard rumours that you wanted to kill yourself. I thought maybe you could no longer bear it, because I also had the same idea.’
‘Do you remember what we talked about that night, when Shu Wu* published the private letters I had written to him before Liberation? You said that if the freedom of correspondence laid down by the Constitution couldn’t be safeguarded, what is left? You yourself mentioned suicide. I thought about it and said people might think we killed ourselves because we feared punishment, that we had alienated ourselves from the masses, who would dare to speak up for us after that? You also thought of mother, who was nearly 80, and our son, who was eight. You could only weep. So we decided to grit our teeth and suffer all attacks. That oath kept me going. However, I did waver. In 1957, after reading Chairman Mao’s On the Correct Handling of Contradictions Among the People, I said I hoped I could have a down-to-earth discussion about my case, that I wouldn’t just be left in the dark. I was always being told to confess, but I had nothing to confess. No one listened, so I went on hunger strike. Obviously, they couldn’t let me starve to death. I won’t go into details.’ He opened his mouth. ‘Look, they knocked out my front tooth so they could pour the food in.’
‘And then?’
‘The judge promised to show me the incriminating evidence and discuss it with me. But when I resumed eating, nothing happened. Now I’ve been sentenced to 14 years, but where’s the evidence? To uphold the Party’s name, I didn’t appeal or even try to defend myself. ‘‘My heart is at ease but reason has not prevailed’’ – that was the best way of putting it!’
I started to think back on my own experience, the torment caused by never-ending demands that I confess. A brief moment of pain seemed preferable to protracted pain. Death would put an end to my troubles. I forget how many times I approached the hard corner of the rosewood table, but each time my heart softened when I thought of mother and our children.
‘Let’s not talk about it. As long as we live together, nothing can defeat us. We must treasure what is left of our lives. I will make life worth living, so you can work.’
‘Do you know what I’ve been thinking all these years? I used to think that when I was released I would ask you for five yuan and go to Tanggu in Tianjin. The boundless sea would be my final resting place.’
We fell into each other’s arms weeping.
We spent the night crying and laughing.
I woke at six when our son went to fetch the water flask. Later, he crept out with his bike. I was pleased he was so sensible.
When Director Wu returned that afternoon, the child was at home and the Director had a chat with him. Perhaps it was to help him put his relations with his father on a good footing. Before leaving, the Director said, ‘I hope you have a happy New Year at home. The offices don’t reopen until the third. Then we’ll organise some visits for you. You can see how much progress the country has made over the last few years!’
‘The Ten Great Monuments are wonderful,’ I chipped in.
‘Yes, we’ll see everything.’
The winter holidays started, and our elder son returned from Xi’an. I had written to him about his father, so his visit was not unexpected. However, the sight of him shocked me. He had hurt his leg at work and they had only just removed the plaster, so he walked with a limp. He said, ‘I decided not to tell you, so you wouldn’t rush up to Xi’an. Dad needed you more.’
Perhaps Director Wu knew my elder son had come home, for he too turned up. It was partly to discuss the visits with us, but the main reason was to talk with our son.
Apart from rushing around preparing meals, I also had to keep an eye on F. The children seemed reasonable and not as ‘leftist’ as I had feared. Xiaoshan dragged his father off to play chess. Xiaogu talked with him about the domestic and the international situation and about university. Even though F had been locked up for ten years, he still managed to express some opinions. But about his son’s future he felt nothing but regret.
‘If it hadn’t been for me, you could have studied abroad.’
‘So what? I can hear lectures by Soviet experts. No one has obstructed my career. I’ve been promoted to a lectureship.’
On lunar New Year’s Eve, when families get together for dinner, I prepared a rich assortment of food and drink, and our daughter hurried over from the home of her husband’s family. I suggested we each talk about our innermost thoughts and feelings. I was hoping the alcohol would loosen our tongues, so we would get to know what was on each other’s minds.
Sadly, the children remained ill at ease. F told his daughter to go to the bookcase and find Lu Xun’s translation of Arishima Takeo’s ‘To Young People’. He read:
‘I have loved you, and I always will. It’s not because I expect to get any reward from you as your father, that’s not why I say I love you. My sole request is that you accept my gratitude. By the time I have raised you to adulthood, I may well be dead; or perhaps I will still be alive and working hard; or in my dotage. Whatever the case, I am not the one you have to help. You cannot waste your fresh energy on my generation. It would be better if, like lion cubs, you endeavoured to build up your strength by eating the flesh of your dead kin, entered into the stream of life, and tried to shake off your memories of me.’
The room fell quiet. Again, father spoke, in his calm, dignified voice. ‘That’s how I feel. I want to give you my body and mind. You are young lions. You are strong and animated. You can leave me – then I will be at peace.’ Everyone felt the grief contained in those few words. Xiaofeng said, ‘The last tram will soon leave, I must go.’ That broke the silence. We got up to see her off. Afterwards, I blamed him for affecting the children with Arishima Takeo’s despair. He said, ‘Xiaogu suffered a lot because of me. They thought it would convince me. It’s been a burden for him, he’s in the Party. I want to be the victim. Let them step across me and go their own ways. They have the Party to lead them, they can be happy. When I see how sincerely they heed the Party, I will no longer worry.’
* A writer and friend of Hu Feng’s.
