Don Winslow - The Trail to Buddha_s Mirror

Father did not come home. We heard that he was in jail. Later we heard that he had been sent to a work camp in Xinxiang. We stayed in the house after that. We knew that it was only a matter of time before we would be attacked. The Red Guard had come to the homes of other purged officials, searching for evidence of Western influences or decadent belongings or just to loot. It was a terrible time. I was worried about Father, Mother sat for hour after hour saying nothing, doing nothing, and Hong sank into silence and acted as if she could not stand the sight of us.

Finally in November it happened. It was cold for Chengdu, and I was huddled beneath my quilt, late at night, when the front door crashed open. We all ran downstairs to see what had happened. There were at least twenty Red Guards. The leader was a tall young man. His face was flushed with rage! He screamed at Mother, “American spy! You must confess now!” Mother glared back at him and answered, “I have nothing to confess. Perhaps it is you who has something to confess.” He grabbed her by the neck and threw her to her knees. I rushed at him, but he easily threw me off, and two other Red Guards-one of them a girlfriend from school-held me down. The leader screamed again for Mother to confess, but she just shook her head. He hit her on the back of the neck and she fell flat on the floor. I screamed for him to stop and my old friend slapped me in the face. The leader kicked Mother and pulled her back up to her knees.

“You are a spy,” he said, “and the wife of a traitor. We are here to express the outrage of the masses and give you revolutionary justice!”

“You know nothing about justice,” Mother answered, “so how can you give it?”

He kicked her again and pulled her arms behind her back and handcuffed her. It was a very painful position, but Mother did not cry out. Then he ordered his helpers to search the house. All this time Hong stood in a corner and said nothing.

They tore our house apart. They ripped the beautiful paintings with knives, they smashed the record albums into pieces. When they found the writings of Jefferson and Paine, they let out shouts of triumph. The leader slammed these books down in front of Mother.

“English books!” he screamed. “Who are these American thinkers you admire?!’”

“They were true revolutionaries,” she answered. “You should learn from them.”

The leader spat on her and made a pile of the books in front of her face. Then he lit a match and tried to set them on fire, but he did not know what he was doing and could not get the fire to take flame. He became so angry that he picked up the books and threw them at Mother’s head, giving her cuts and bruises. All this time, I was held down on my knees, and I cried and cried… and Hong stood silently in the corner.

The Red Guard stayed for hours. The sun was coming up as they were getting ready to leave.

“We will be back for you later,” the leader warned. “So you can face the people and tell your lies!”

He took the handcuffs off Mother and stormed out of the house. I went to Mother and held her. She shook with pain and anger, but she got up and we walked through the house. Everything was destroyed. Even our beds were ripped up, so we put our quilts on the floor and tried to sleep. I could not sleep, because when I closed my eyes I saw them beating Mother.

They were back in a few hours. They handcuffed Mother again and ordered us to follow. They took us to the same government building where Father’s office had been. There was a large room there, full of people. Posters denouncing Mother were all over the walls. “American Spy!” “Kuomintang Snake!” “Treacherous Class Enemy!” They sat us down in the front row and carried Mother up on the stage. They hung a poster around her neck. “Death to American Spies!” it read. The crowd chanted these slogans and hurled insults, but Mother refused to lower her head. She stared back at the people, some of whom had been friends of hers and Father’s. At one point, the young man from the night before even pushed her head down to make her look ashamed, but she raised her head again.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” an older man asked her.

“I have nothing to say to a mob,” she replied.

“Then you will speak to the Committee of Revolutionary Justice,” the man answered.

Then several men grabbed Mother and walked her through the crowd. People hit her and spat at her as she passed through. After an endless hour, a young Red Guard came to Hong and me and took us upstairs to the fourth floor. We were left on a bench in the hallway by a door, but we could hear shouting from inside the room. They were screaming at Mother to confess to being an American spy.

“Your father was a Kuomintang official, a traitor! You are his spy! Didn’t you fraternize with Americans during the War of Liberation?!”

“Yes, that is true! I was spying for the Party!”

“Liar! You were working for the Kuomintang. You are still working for the Kuomintang!”

“That is a lie.”

“You hate China! You have American books and American music!”

“You are being ridiculous. Please spare yourself further embarrassment and stop being so foolish.”

This went on for some time. I flinched with every shout, and sometimes I could hear them kicking and hitting her. They were desperate for a confession. I realize now that Father’s powerful enemies were behind it, seeking to discredit him further, but Mother must have known it then, because she refused to give them anything. She knew that they had no real evidence against her, because she was innocent.

Finally, the young Red Guard who had destroyed our house came out. He was very red in the face, almost out of breath, and he ordered us to enter the room.

Mother was standing in the “airplane” position, her knees bent and her arms stretched behind her. She was in great pain, but she remained composed. Hong and I were pushed against a wall, opposite a draped window. It was dim and hot in the room.

“Denounce her!” the older man demanded.

I shook my head. Hong remained silent, and I was very proud of her.

“Tell us what you know,” he repeated. “You will be helping her. If she confesses, she can be rehabilitated, but if she does not, she can be executed a a spy. Help her to confess!”

I stole a look in Mother’s eyes. She shook her head so gently that only I could see it. I loved her so much and I started to cry, but I refused again to denounce her. So they tried another tactic.

“Then you are as guilty as she is! You are against the revolution! You hate Chairman Mao! Do you want to go to prison?! To a work camp?!”

I didn’t care. No prison could have been worse than that little room. All of China had become a prison to me. I remained silent. Hong remained silent. I felt that we were sisters again.

“You must correct your bad thought!” the young Red Guard screamed. “Your mother has poisoned your mind with bourgeois thought! She is a criminal! Denounce her!”

I do not know where I found the courage to answer, but I said, “You are the criminal, and I denounce you.” And I saw Mother smile. They gave up on me then, and talked only to Hong.

“Denounce her!”

Hong shook her head.

The older man spoke quietly to her. “Xao Hong, you were a Red Guard. Now you are in disgrace because of your parents. Do you want to be rehabilitated? Do you ever want to be a Red Guard again?”

Hong dropped her eyes to the floor. She shook her head, but very gently.

“Xao Hong, we know you love Chairman Mao. We know you love the revolution. Your mother wants to destroy Chairman Mao. She wants to destroy the revolution. She is your mother in body only. In spirit you are a daughter of the revolution.”