Ken Liu - Broken Stars

Chiang Kai-shek then launched an all-out assault, and the peace across the Taiwan Strait that had lasted my entire lifetime ended as the Chinese Civil War began.

With the help of the American Seventh Fleet, the Nationalist Army landed in Guangdong. They headed north and conquered Nanjing. The central leadership pulled the troops that had returned from Korea to the southern front, but the troops were tired of fighting and surrendered to the Nationalists en masse, raising the flag of the Republic of China, a blue sky with a white sun. In little more than a year, all territories south of the Yangtze had fallen to the Nationalists, and even the north appeared to be teetering on the precipice.

During that time, through my connections in the Soviet Union, I unexpectedly received a copy of Sartre’s new book, which recorded his impressions of China. Sartre also sent me a long letter in which he discussed some further thoughts about our conversations. It was highly technical and rather hard to read. However, near the end, an almost casually tossed-off line shocked me:

“Recently, a Chinese-American scholar came to Paris to visit me. Her name is Zhao Qi, and she has been away from China for many decades….”

Qiqi! My Qiqi! The world spun around me. I forced myself to be calm and continued to read.

“She is an excellent scholar, and she wishes to return to her homeland to do what she can to help. I mentioned you to her, and she said she would like to visit you in Beijing.”

The letter went on to discuss other matters I did not care about.

For a long while, my mind was utter chaos. When I finally calmed down, I figured out what Sartre really meant. During the month we spent together, I told him about Qiqi and asked for his help to find out news about her if he ever visited the United States. The reason he had crafted his letter to make it sound as if Qiqi and I were strangers was an attempt to protect us in the event the letter was read by others.

The important news was that Qiqi was going to return to Beijing to find me. This was actually a consequence of the present crisis. The reason that Qiqi couldn’t return to China before was because of the Cold War, but if the political situation changed, the barrier between us would be lifted.

Sartre’s real message to me was simple: If you want to see Qiqi again, find a way to stay in Beijing!

While I waited excitedly in Beijing, another piece of shocking news arrived: Chiang Kai-shek proclaimed that the Republic of China was reasserting its sovereignty over the entire country. The capital would be returned to Nanjing, and Beijing renamed Beiping. He vowed to cross the Yangtze and slaughter every last Communist until China was unified.

The next day, Heizi came to find me, holding a pamphlet in his hand. “What is wrong with you? Why are you still here?”

“Where am I supposed to go?” I was baffled.

“Don’t you know?” Heizi handed the pamphlet to me. “A Nationalist airplane dropped this earlier today.”

I read the pamphlet. Basically, it said that the Nationalists were winning victory after victory in their advance north and they would soon conquer Beiping. Everyone would be pardoned, with the exception of a list of major war criminals. The pamphlet went on to urge Communist officers and soldiers to surrender.

“What does this have to do with me?” I asked.

“Look at the back.”

I flipped the sheet of paper over. It was a list of “Major Communist War Criminals.” I glanced through the names: Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, Liu Shaoqi… There were at least a hundred names, and most were important figures in the Party or the government. The penultimate name was Guo Moruo, my old friend. The last name on the list was even more familiar: Xie Baosheng.

“What… is my name doing here?”

“Of course you’re on there,” said Heizi. “Have you forgotten who you are? You’ve been the dean of the university, the Secretary-General of the China Federation of Literary and Art Circles, standing committee member of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, and you are always showing up at state banquets. As far as the cultural sphere is concerned, you and Guo Moruo are the two biggest fish.”

“Those are just honorary titles. I’ve never done anything.”

“It really doesn’t matter. They need a name on there to show they mean business, and it might as well be yours.” Heizi sighed. “I heard that Chiang Kai-shek has started purges in the south. Anybody connected with the Communists is executed, and he’s killed enough people to make the rivers to flow red. He hung many of the bodies from lampposts to instill terror. Since you’re on the list, if Beijing were to fall… You’d better get out.”

I smiled bitterly. “I think it’s too late for that. What are your plans?”

“My wife and I will follow our son, of course. Xiaohei is still in the army. In fact, he’s a member of the guard for the central leadership. He’s already arranged for us to go to the Northeast. We leave in two days. Old friend, I really think you need to plan for this.”

A few days later, the Nationalists were almost at the city. Artillery shells were already exploding in Beijing. Someone passed me a copy of an article published in a newspaper in Nanjing, which was supposed to describe the “Crimes of Communist Bandit Leaders.” The section on me claimed I had betrayed Liu Xiaobo after my arrest post-Tiananmen; that I had served as a tool of the regime during the Cultural Revolution; that after coming into power, I had abused my authority to suppress anyone who disagreed with me; that I had written science fiction novels spreading propaganda about Communism and advocating corrupt sexual practices; that I had emboldened and invigorated the totalitarian system…. In a word, I must be executed to pacify the people’s anger.

I had to laugh at this. Here was I, thinking I had accomplished nothing in my life, but in this article I was an amazing villain with extraordinary powers.

That night, a squad of fully armed soldiers woke me by banging on the door. They were members of the guard for the central leadership and the officer in charge was Xiaohei.

“Uncle Xie, we are here with orders to escort you out of the city.”

“Where are you going?”

“The commander of Beijing’s peripheral defenses has betrayed us,” Xiaohei said. “That bastard surrendered and the Nationalists are now attacking the city. To avoid the destruction of the city’s cultural artifacts and ancient buildings, the central leadership has decided to retreat. We’ve got to go now.”

“No. I’m too old to run. I’ll wait here. Whatever happens is fate.”

“Uncle Xie, you’re on the list of war criminals. If you stay here, you’ll die for sure.”

He continued trying to change my mind, but I refused to budge. One of his soldiers got impatient and pointed his gun at me. “Xie Baosheng, if you don’t leave, then you’re trying to betray the revolution and surrender to the enemy. I’ll kill you right now.”

Xiaohei pushed the gun barrel down. “Uncle Xie, I’m sorry, but we’re under strict orders. You must leave with us. If you don’t come willingly, we’ll have to resort to cruder measures.”

I sighed. “Fine. Give me a few minutes to pack some things.”

An hour later, deep in the night, the soldiers and I got into a jeep and drove west. Many buildings along the way had already collapsed from artillery fire, and the road was filled with pits. Electricity had been shut off, and all the streetlights were dark. Other than columns of soldiers, I saw almost no pedestrians. Tanks passed by from time to time, and I could hear the distant rumble of cannons.

I was reminded of another bloody night forty years ago.