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3

A Gaol Visit, Not a Family Visit

Carrying two string-tied bundles of Marx and Engels’ Complete Works in Japanese, I set out again on the journey to Qincheng. Having learned my lesson, I ate a bowl of noodles before setting out. But there were drawbacks: it was the rush hour, and I had to push my way on and off with my two bundles. Even though I managed to squeeze through, there were no seats left.

At Shahe, where I had to change, I didn’t dare leave the parcels unattended. I sat under the hot midsummer sun watching the watermelon sellers on the opposite pavement and the juice dribbling down the chins of their customers. But I couldn’t risk running over to buy a slice, so I just sat and watched.

When the bone-shaker from Shahe to Qincheng turned up, it was hard enough to stand, let alone get a seat, especially with the books. I had to keep a tight hold on them and at the same time sway and bob in time with the bus. By the time I reached Qincheng, my hands ached and my leg had gone numb. Luckily, it was the terminus, so I could take my time alighting.

There were some PLA men on the pavement greeting an old lady from the countryside. Some took her parcel, others took her basket. She was probably visiting a relative in the guards’ unit. One younger-looking PLA man, perhaps the leader, had nothing to carry and ran over and offered to help me. Without thinking, I declined.

Actually, I was tired and hot, so I dropped behind and hid in the trees. I put the books down and sat on them. Here, I was out of the sun, and in a while a breeze blew up and the sweat on me dried. I stayed sitting there until the PLA men had disappeared through the gate, and then I got up and walked over to it. It was ages before anyone called me in – perhaps they were having a midday nap. I also had to wait in the reception area. I flicked through a list of presents you were allowed to bring. On the last page it said, ‘Watermelons – one.’ I thought, next time I’ll bring one, he’s probably not eaten one for years.

The duty officer let him in and left. We sat opposite each other, just the two of us. It was almost like sitting together at home, except I felt so wretched. I told him the children’s news, and gave him daughter’s letter. He read it and flew into a rage.

‘So I’m supposed to learn from Puyi! Who’s Puyi? A feudal emperor, who lived a corrupt life exploiting the people. If the Government helped him become a new man, that’s because the Party and the people are lenient. Can I negate myself in the same way he did? Was I wrong to study Marxism-Leninism? I loyally followed the Party, everything I did was for the Party, was that wrong too? Of course I know the secret of how to survive under a big hat, but is that being responsible to the Party and the people? Or to oneself? Is that what I should do? I can’t admit to things I haven’t done, and whether what I have done is wrong or not can’t be answered in one sentence. I can only reach a proper conclusion by spending time studying Marxism-Leninism and going deep into the realities of life. That’s not something you can do in solitary confinement. Is that my fault?’

He was worked up, like when he used to argue with people in the past. I said:

‘Don’t get angry. The child means well. All she wants is for your problem to be resolved. Then we can all be together, as a family.’

It seemed like he was about to sound off again, but it was dangerous for him to speak his mind, so I distracted him.

‘Today I brought the Japanese Marx and Engels. Two big bundles, it tired me out.’ I told him about the journey, and about getting off the last bus, and how the PLA had welcomed the old lady visiting her family, and how difficult it had been for me, on a prison visit. I couldn’t help moaning a bit.

He looked surprised. Naturally, he couldn’t understand these things. Changing the topic, he asked:

‘Are you all right? You look thin. Your complexion is not good.’

‘Last year I had neurasthenia. I couldn’t sleep and was always dizzy. I took medicine, but it didn’t help. Then I learned tai-chi and my spirits picked up. I could sleep peacefully. That chart I brought, do you follow it each day? You’ve got to exercise to stay fit. Do you need anything else?’

‘Sometimes the food here is hard to stomach, a bit of chilli oil would help. What I really need is books. If there’s anything worth reading, give me it. You can read the books first. Then we can talk about them.’

‘Read? I stopped reading long ago. I subscribe to a couple of magazines, but I have no wish to go deeply into the sort of questions the press discusses, it’s enough to know a bit about what’s going on nationally and internationally.’

I wanted to talk about the children, the mainstay of my life.

‘Xiaoshan finishes high school next year. Last time you said you wanted him to be a worker. Obviously it’s something I’ve thought about. I wanted him to go to technical college. Elder sister was even keener. She sat the exam for university twice and was not admitted, it was wounding. But elder brother said he would go to senior high, where he would get a broader education. Things might change in future, and then he can try to get into university. He said the Party’s policy was that parents can’t choose, everyone has to make their own choice.’

He looked distressed. Suddenly, he seemed much older. I stumbled on. The duty officer put his head round the door. I thought, it’s getting late, I should go. After I had delivered a few more exhortations, he gripped my hand and went.

September arrived. I thought maybe he needed some clothes, so I requested another visit, but no reply came.

Nie visited me. He was wearing a navy blue serge suit and carrying a bundle wrapped in newspaper. He looked debonair. He asked:

‘Any news about Hu?’

‘None. I haven’t seen him in more than a month. The authorities haven’t replied to my letter.’

I told him about F’s most recent letter and showed him the book list he had enclosed. He said in a low voice:

‘So he’s still doing literary research. So many books, it’s not easy.’ He added, ‘I bumped into Pan Hannian.^* He’s living at the Organisation Department. He gets a hundred yuan a month pocket money. It seems Hu’s problem will soon be resolved.’

I thought, perhaps the reason they’ve not let me see him for so long is because a change is in the offing. He told me some other things. I was much more optimistic after hearing him.

I asked about Big Sister Ying. He said, ‘She goes to work every day at the People’s Political Consultative Conference. I told her to retire, but she doesn’t want to. Her morale is low. I don’t dare tell her about you two. I’m afraid she’ll become an insomniac.’

As he was getting ready to go, I noticed his newspaper wrapping had broken, so I gave him some extra sheets. I saw its contents: a poorly produced lithographic edition of Zhuangzi, on glazed paper. I couldn’t help asking, ‘Can you understand that? The ink smell gets up my nose.’

‘This edition is hard to get.’

‘We have a large-character edition engraved on wood.’

He asked me to find it, for an article he was writing. It was in a wooden box on top of the bookshelf. He steadied the table and I put a stool on it and climbed up and got the box. It contained several volumes of Zhuangzi, as well as Guanzi and Han Feizi. He wanted them all.

F had picked them up by chance in Shanghai at the end of the war. It seemed unlikely F would study them. ‘A precious sword for a person of high endeavour’ seemed a worthy end.

As he was about to leave, I said:

‘Give Big Sister Ying my address. I would love to see her.’

‘I will. I’ll tell her when she’s feeling a bit better, physically and mentally.’

Not long after that, I wrote to her. So she would know it was an old friend, I addressed it to Zhiqin, the name she used at school.

Three days later, one wet afternoon, she turned up under an umbrella. As soon as I opened the door, she rushed towards me without even pausing to put the umbrella down. ‘My dear Tu, so this is where you live!’ I flung myself at her, and the two of us stood exclaiming and laughing in the corridor. When we eventually made our way into the lighted room, I saw she was drenched. I poured her some water so she could wash, and told her to take off her coat. She paid me no attention, but simply told me to sit down so we could talk.

I had never been close to her. She was F’s friend. There was a certain sympathy between us, but that was all. But now we were like the oldest of friends. I needed her forthrightness and lack of inhibition, typical of a northern woman.

In her loud voice, she told me:

‘Tu, I almost missed your letter! When the old man in the reception office saw it, he said ‘‘Zhiqin? That’s a girl in my village, there’s no one of that name here.’’ I thought that can’t be me, but then I saw it was. A near miss! How’s Old Hu? Is he all right?’

‘He looks all right, but he’s gone bald.’

‘That’s a small sacrifice. He never had much hair anyway.’

We burst out laughing, and our distress ebbed away.

We sat there side by side. Even though her voice and smile hadn’t changed, nine years of hardship were etched onto her brow. She was an activist who loved her work and social activities, and suddenly she was consigned to a job of no consequence, with a daily pile of silent documents her only contact. How could she be calm and happy? But her hearty voice and resolute manner remained. She had not been defeated: she was still doing things she was good at.

We talked about many people and subjects, and I took inspiration from her stories. Many people had been entered into the ‘other’ register, for disreputable people, including some who previously had been powerful. Where did we stand in the scale of things? I was low-level and had never sought fame or wealth, I had never requested anything, and now I was even less likely to have grand hopes. I only wanted what any wife or mother would, to let our family live together.

Xiaoshan was home for the holidays. He recognised Ying and called her ‘auntie’.

Ying couldn’t hide her delight. ‘How big Xiaoshan has grown, he’s like an adult.’ They chatted about his school. I could see there was nothing that didn’t interest her, so I left them talking and went to cook dinner.

After dinner, we again sat for a while. Before we knew it, it was eight. She said she had to go. I tried to stop her, but she had to work the next day. She said she would come again. I took her to the tram stop. She had to cross Beijing, from the eastern outskirts to the western outskirts. This made me anxious, for she was no longer the Big Sister Ying of ten years ago. That made me treasure her visit even more.

* A leader of Chinese Communist intelligence in the 1930s, accused of treason in 1955 and posthumously rehabilitated.