Anchee Min - Red Azalea

We transferred onto another bus heading home. Mother told me that Blooming was assigned to a design school where she was being trained to paint propaganda posters. Coral was in the process of graduating from middle school. If nothing went wrong, she should be assigned to be a factory worker, Mother said. Let’s hope that she’s the luckiest person in the family. I asked about Space Conqueror. Mother said he had become a young man now. He was quick in math, but that still did not promise him a good future. He had to go with the policy. He would be assigned either as a peasant or, if he was lucky enough, a worker at a factory outside of the city. I asked Mother what happened to those youths who did not go with the policy. Mother reported that none of these people met a good end. They were shamed in the neighborhood. Their families were bothered every day until the appointed youth moved to the countryside. Mother said to me, You are a good kid. You went as you were supposed to. You have been behaving properly as a big sister. You never caused any trouble since you were born. I did not tell my mother that being a big sister wore me out.

The moment I showed up in the neighborhood, the neighbors acted strangely. They stared at me as if they had never seen me before. She’s going to be a movie star, they murmured. The Old Tailor, Little Coffin, Big Bread, Witch Chao, the women downstairs commented behind my back. I heard them say, She’s really not that good-looking at all.

The neighbors visited me, group after group. The most frequent question they asked was whether I had now received my permanent city residency. My father had to explain that there was no such thing yet, that I was just picked up and had to go through more tests.

We had dinner. I had not had one like this for a long time. We had sweet-and-sour pork, green vegetables and tofu. Blooming took a leave at the boarding school to be with me at dinner. I did not have much to say, nor did my sisters and brother. They had their future to worry about, especially Coral. If I were to be granted a permanent residence in the city, Coral would lose her chance to become a worker. She would be sent to a farm because our family needed to have one peasant to pass the policy.

Mother talked about the dishes. She tried to celebrate the moment. She never showed her despair. Father was proud of me being chosen, but was not optimistic about my soaring stardom. He said to me, One is crushed harder when one climbs high. The neighborhood kids called my name at the window during dinner. They all wanted to take a look at the movie star. But I could not forget Yan. Her face was in front of me all night.

The film studio was a palace of displayed slogans. It was surrounded by dark red maple trees. The leaves were like joined hands. They blocked my view. The leaves branched in and out of the building windows. The studio walls were painted white, with red slogans written on them. “Long live Chairman Mao’s revolutionary arts policy!” “Salute to our greatest standard-bearer, Comrade Jiang Ching!”

I presented a sealed official letter to the studio security guard. He told me to wait as he went inside. A few minutes later a man and a woman appeared in the hallway. They threw themselves at me enthusiastically. The man introduced himself as Sound of Rain, the head of the studio acting department; the woman, as Soviet Wong, his assistant. They picked up my luggage and asked me to follow them into the studio.

We passed through a series of gates. The sun was shining through the maple leaves. The leaves were spreading their pinkish rays onto the dustless pavement. The workers walking underneath the maple trees were covered in a translucent reddish light. They greeted us with flattery.

Sound of Rain had a pumpkin head with fat cheeks sagging on the sides. Soviet Wong had the face of an ancient beauty. She had slanting eyes, a long nose, a cherry-shaped mouth and extremely fine skin. She was about forty. It was the way she moved; her elegance drew me in. She spoke perfect Mandarin. She had a silky voice. Sound of Rain said that Soviet Wong graduated from the Shanghai Film Acting School in the fifties and was an extremely talented actress. Sound of Rain said that I should be proud that Soviet Wong would be one of my four instructors. I asked how it was that I would have more than one instructor. Sound of Rain said it was Madam Mao, Comrade Jiang Ching’s order. Soviet Wong said that she was very happy to receive the assignment to be in charge of teaching me. I asked what I would be learning. She said I would be taking intensive classes on politics and acting. I asked if she would do any acting with us. She went silent. Her lips tightened and her head lowered. A lump of hair fell on her face. Her steps slowed down. The revolution’s needs are my needs, she said stiffly. Her resentment spit out between her teeth. She looked clearly unhappy. Flinging back her hair, she quickly sped up to catch Sound of Rain. Her graceful back bent slightly to the right side. She pretended to be very happy. She must be durable as bamboo-capable of bending in all directions in the wind. I walked carefully, watching my own steps.

Soviet Wong walked a half step behind Sound of Rain, never overtaking him or lagging behind him one step. They both wore blue Mao jackets with collars buttoned tightly at the neck. They nodded, Sound of Rain first, then Soviet Wong, at the workers who passed by. They paid the workers full-scale smiles. The smile made me nervous, although it was the most admired smile in the country. It was the smile that Mao had been promoting with the slogan “One must treat his comrades with the warmth of spring.” Lu at Red Fire Farm was an expert at that type of smile.

Finally, we arrived at an abandoned studio set. It was the size of a stadium, engulfed by foot-high weeds. As we made a sharp turn, a single little house appeared in front of me. It was an old house with a cement sink on the ground. Wild plants climbed around the sink. This is where you girls stay, said Soviet Wong. This used to be an old movie set, Sound of Rain explained. There are more living quarters behind the house. It was built to be used as a horse shed for movies. We had it converted as a living space for the boys chosen. Twenty-five of you are assigned to live and work in this area. You will be guarded. No visits to or from families except the second Sunday morning of the month. Anyone who breaks the rules will be eliminated. We want no outside influence. Absolutely none, Soviet Wong echoed. My thoughts went to Yan.

What about letters? I asked. What’s so urgent about writing letters? Soviet Wong suddenly turned to me; suspicion rose in her voice. Her long thin eyebrows twisted into a knot in the middle. I reacted quickly to this sign of danger. I said, Oh, nothing, I was just asking.

She did not believe me. I could tell that she went on with her own thinking. You have dark circles under your eyes, which shows that you don’t sleep well. What’s your problem? We hope your promise to the Party was not a fake one. She turned to Sound of Rain and said, We must take preventive measures against possible calamities.

I was offended but I knew I must not show my feelings. The engine of my brain sped up to its limit. Nothing is more urgent than the assignment I have been given, I said, trying hard to sound sincere. It might be my late Mao study habit that causes the dark circles around my eyes. She asked, Why don’t you tell us the name of the person you would like to write to so we could check to make sure that it is good for you to keep the correspondence?

Although I couldn’t see her motive, I sensed that Soviet Wong’s offer was insincere. I have no one to write to, really. I slacked off my tone to make the words carry no eagerness. Soviet Wong stared at me; eye-to-eye, we wrestled. Sound of Rain took a look at his watch and said to Soviet Wong, We should not worry. He went to whisper to her. I heard a phrase. A virus-free egg, he said to her.