The first shot is the clock hanging on the wall of the Hall of Mercy. The time is seven fifty-five in the evening. At the hall's entrance Chun-qiao enters with quick steps. He is in a Mao jacket and looks small and thin as if in a wide-angle lens. Suddenly behind him two guards appear. They hop on his back and press him to the floor. His glasses are taken off. There is no struggle and he is taken away. The time is eight-fifteen.
The set changes. It is now the Hall of the East Wing. Disciple Yao enters. Two guards come out and block his way. He looks around and falls on his knees. Then comes Wang Hong-wen. When Wang sees the guards approaching he turns around to run but doesn't make it to the gate. He puts up a fight but is tied up eventually.
One guard walks toward the camera. There is elation on his face. He stretches out his arm and turns the camera off.
No one is picking up her calls for help. No one is at home. Everybody has "hospitalized" themselves in order to avoid her.
Suddenly she is attacked by a feeling of worthlessness. Her childhood memories rush back to her. The face of her father. The tears of her mother. Pain surfaces. Terror. The water rises, and now is throat deep. She hears her father's yell. Give it up!
Why is it so quiet here? Why are you, Little Moon, looking at me like a wakening soul? Was my guess right? Have the wolves finally infested my land? Stop it! Stop trembling like a coward!...There is ... nothing I can do, I suppose. The military has always been my weak point. The Chairman didn't leave me enough time to manage the warlords. The warlords ... maybe ... I cannot say that the trap was not set by Mao himself ... Come here, Little Moon.
Little Moon rises. Her stick-thin body is stiff and her eyes dwell freezingly.
Come, girl, and sit down by me. Let's chat. Cheer me up. Let me tell you stories of my life. Because in a few minutes it will be a different story. I will be called the White-Boned Demon. Come on, Little Moon, unzip your pursed mouth. It doesn't look attractive when you clench your jaw tight. You are a pretty girl. Why don't you let me fix your eyebrows? Bring me the little scissors. I have to do it now or never. No? What's wrong? Don't stare at me as if you have just swallowed a spoiled egg. Come on, courage!
Little Moon twists her mouth and breathes unevenly.
I'm getting bored listening to the sound of my own voice. Where are the wolves?
Quietly she eats her last meal as Madame Mao. Little Moon is ordered to join her. But the young woman can't make herself eat. She unshells clams with her chopsticks and puts the meat onto Jiang Ching's small side plate.
Thank you. I appreciate your loyalty and I wish you were Nah. It's a mother's foolishness. It seems now ... that she was not unwise ... Ninxia Desert she has escaped ... The realm of laxity ... Anyway, this is to cap my life. It's time to be a martyr, to stick a chopstick into my throat—I am preparing myself. A good actress can handle any scene ... Where is Yu Hui-yong? I need to hear my operas. Yu is a born coward. It wouldn't surprise me if he ends up killing himself. He is too delicate and lives with feelings and fear. That is an artist's problem. We are artists. That is why Yu will kill himself. So would I, I am afraid. Why am I talking about this? Why am I talking about being an artist? Yu's music makes me cry. I already miss him. Chun-qiao is the toughest among us, and that is his luck.
The sound of her silk skirt has stopped
On the marble pavement dust grows
Her empty room is cold and still
Fallen leaves are piled against the doormat
Midnight, October 6. The Garden of Stillness. Along the deep walls come noises. The sound of steps rises behind the gates. Whispers. Someone is talking with the guard. Yes, sir, the guard answers. A tall shadow approaches. A man leaps. It is Zhang Yiao-ci, the second in command of the 8341. The sound of the gate clashes and locks behind. Zhang Yiao-ci freezes at the entrance. After a moment he advances and enters the mansion. He pounds on the door. His fingers tremble.
It's open, the first lady's voice comes.
Zhang Yiao-ci lunges in. His right hand rests on top of the weapon behind his back.
Madame Mao Jiang Ching sits on the sofa, holding a mug of tea. Her calm freezes the man.
The man looks around. Sweat oozing.
A long-legged bird from the painting on the wall stares down.
Madame Mao speaks, then laughs shrilly. I have long anticipated this day! I have spread flowers all the way from my bedroom to the gate.
The man gasps and wills himself to push the syllables out of his mouth: Jiang Ching, the republic's enemy, the Politburo has ordered your arrest.
When the imaginary curtain comes up the actress presses herself forward. She envisions the billion-large audience cheering at the top of their lungs and waving flags. An ocean of red. The color sears her eyes. She smells the warm sun. In the music of her opera she strides. In her head, the drums and trumpets come together. She remembers once how Yu described his feelings when composing on her order: it is the sound of hundreds of train engines puffing smoke and churning their pistons. The notes tighten and twist to the point of breaking. It is as if the composer were choked by the claws of the madness and took each note separately off of his mind's hook and threw them all together into a giant bucket and began to stir.
Then there is a pause. She can hear Yu's sob. It is followed by a silence so complete that she hears the crack of time. A shooting star falls.
Once again, she sees her life as a film. And once again she is a young woman standing on top of a roof overlooking the city of Shanghai and dreaming of her future. She sees the gingko-nut boy and hears his selling drill: Xiang-u-xiang-lai-nu-u-nu! The boy's tone is smooth and mindless. Still clear. The midnight wind sweeps through the long dark lane. The boy squats in front of his wok holding an armful of firelight.
She sees herself in the cell of Qin-Cheng national prison where Vice Chairman Liu's wife, Wang Guang-mei, spends a dozen years before her. Madame Mao sits facing the wall. She is ordered to make dolls for export. She has to meet the daily production objective. The dolls will be sold in children's stores all over the world. She sews tiny colorful dresses onto the tiny plastic bodies. Tens, hundreds and thousands of dolls between 1976 and 1991. She embroiders spring on the dresses, draws flowers from her imagination. When guards are not watching, she secretly embroiders her name, Jiang Ching, onto the inner edges of the dresses. And then she is found out and is stopped. Nevertheless, it is too late to retrieve the ones that had already been shipped. Baskets of dolls, with her signature. Out of China and into the world. Where would they land? In a child's forgotten bin? Or a display window?
It is time to empty the stage. Remember, you will always come across me in the books about China. Don't be surprised to see my name smeared. There is nothing more they can do to me. And don't forget that I was an actress, a great actress. I acted with passion. For those who are fascinated by me you owe me applause, and for those who are disgusted you may spit.
I thank you all for coming.
Acknowledgments
Thank you,
Sandra Dijkstra, my agent, for having the great strength to strike through the troubled river. Five years to reach the shore. Madame Mao is to you.
Anton Mueller, my editor, for having the talent, patience and skill to find out who I am as a writer and show the way to bring out the best in me.
Michele Dremmer, again, for your affection.
References
Lin Qing-shan, The Red Demon, Century Literature, China 1997
Dai Jia-fang, Time of the Revolutionary Operas, Knowledge Publishing, China 1995
Biography of Mao Tse-tung, China Institute of the Communist Party, 1996
The Myth of History, South Sea Publishing, China 1997
Behind the Important Decisions, South Sea Publishing, China 1997
Peng Jin-Kui, My Uncle Peng De-huai, China Publishing, 1997
Zhang Yin, Record of Jiang Ching and Roxane Witke Conversation, Century Literature, China 1997
The National Famous Figures, South Sea Publishin
g, China 1997
The Tendency of the High Court, South Sea Publishing, China 1996
Jing Fu-zi, Romance of the Zhong-nai-hai Lake, Lian-Jing Publishing, Taiwan
Jing Fu-zi, Mao and His Women, Lian-Jing Publishing, Taiwan
Lives of the True Revolutionaries, South Sea Publishing, China 1996
Ross Terrill, The White-Boned Demon, William Morrow, 1984
Ross Terrill, Mao—A Biography, Harper and Row, 1980
Roxane Witke, Comrade Chiang Ch'ing, Little, Brown, 1977
Yao Ming-le, The Conspiracy and Death of Lin Biao, Alfred A. Knopf, 1983
Edgar Snow, The Long Revolution, Random House, 1972.
Dr. Li Zhi-Sui, The Private Life of Chairman Mao, Random House, 1994
Zhao Qing, My Father Zhao Dan, China Publishing, 1997
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright Page
Madame Mao
Author's Note
Table of Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
Acknowledgments
References
Anchee Min, Becoming Madame Mao
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