Anchee Min - Red Azalea

Pushing open the door of the little house, Sound of Rain and Soviet Wong called, Come out, girls, let’s meet a new comrade. Four young women stepped out one after another like snowflakes dancing in the air. I blinked my eyes. Their beauty astonished me. They looked terribly alike, like sisters. I said hello. Sound of Rain and Soviet Wong stopped me and said, Speak in standard Mandarin. No local dialects. I introduced myself in an awkward Mandarin. I said I was from Red Fire Farm.

The young women gave their names shyly. The first one said that her name was Firewood. She was a worker in a steel factory and was the daughter of three generations of workers. Her head was the shape of an egg. Features spread out from the nose. She had a small thin mouth. So small that it looked like the anus of my hen Big Beard. Her double-lidded big slanting eyes were pleasant, though they were drawn very close together and reminded me of the eyes of a fox. She was in a bright vermilion shirt. Two long pigtails swung on her back. Her enthusiasm was like her name.

The second woman introduced herself as Cheering Spear. Her look held a gripping power. One would submit oneself in front of her beauty without wanting to. She stood there and just shone. She was about my age. She had a low voice, cool eyes which sent out a message that she knew what she wanted. She was confident. Her hair was combed up like the horns of a sheep and tied up with brown rubber bands. She had thick eyelashes. She spoke to me but did not look at me. I stared at her moving mouth. I did not understand why she did not look at me. Her Mandarin was more than correct. She articulated each syllable making sure the “er” sound found its way into all the sentences. She spoke “dee-fang” (place) as “dee-er.” She said she was a journalist from the Beijing Daily. She said she was from the people. Finally, she turned and looked at me. She looked at me but showed that she was not interested. It was a pair of rival’s eyes. There was an unfriendliness behind the friendly face. She wanted to roll me over, I sensed. I used to be a horse rider, she said. I dealt with the toughest horses. I worked three years in Inner Mongolia raising horses for military usage. I could do acrobatics on horseback. I play accordion. She went and picked up an accordion from her bag and played out a string of notes. She sang:

She stopped, raised her head, looked at me. She said that it was difficult to describe herself. She gave a fabulous smile at Soviet Wong and asked her to help with the words. She said to Soviet Wong, You are the only one who knows me best. Soviet Wong looked pleased. She said Cheering Spear was a modest youth that everyone should learn from. Learn enthusiasm, learn healthy thinking, learn honesty from her.

Sure, I said. I moved to the third one in the rank. She was thin, wearing a golden-yellowish cotton shirt. She introduced herself as Little Bell. She said her father was a soldier who was an orphan before the Liberation. He was sold to a public bath station to work for the rich as a foot massager, she said. It was in his miserable memory of the past that I grew up. I don’t think I am beautiful, she said. I really don’t. Good looks don’t make a person beautiful. She made a shy smile toward Sound of Rain, who was staring at her. Please forgive my shyness, she said. Little Bell lowered her head, smoothing her hair down with her fingers.

Very well expressed, Little Bell, Sound of Rain said in a low muffled voice that sounded as if it came from a jar. Good looks don’t make a person beautiful. The matter is not about how you look, it is about how your looks can serve the proletarian purpose. This is said by our Supervisor from Beijing. I asked who was the Supervisor. Sound of Rain replied that he was the one who was solely responsible for Comrade Jiang Ching. A great genius of arts, he said.

When Sound of Rain mentioned the word “Supervisor,” everyone’s expression all of a sudden filled with deep respect. I immediately sensed the man’s importance. When someone in this country was called by his title instead of his name, he was beyond general importance. For example, Mao was called the Chairman, and Chou, the Premier. The omission of the last name displayed the power of the persona.

The fourth woman spoke. Her name was Bee OhYang. I did not see threat on this face. It was a face of innocence, a face lacking knowledge, a face of purity. She said she wished she were like her name. By that she meant a bee had a sharp thorn, but she did not. I lack a fighting spirit. I’d like to learn to correct my spirit. She said she was from an old village in the South. All the villagers had one surname, OhYang. The village was poor. It produced nothing but babies. I am the glory of the village. But I say that I belong to the Party. My mind, my heart and soul. As she spoke, tears welled up. She was moved by her own words. Bee was a dark-skinned beauty. She had a sculptural look, a full mouth, melon-seed-shaped face, shining short hair cut to the earlobe. Her heavy southern accent made her Mandarin hard to comprehend.

The room was sunny. It smelled of wood mold. There were five beds all hung with mosquito nets. My thoughts went to Yan and our mosquito net.

It is very nice, I said. I wish I had arrived earlier to help with the cleaning. That is fine, said Soviet Wong. You will have plenty of opportunities to make up for it. Ha, ha. Everyone in the room cheered.

From tomorrow on, Sound of Rain said, you will have to learn everything from scratch, including walking, talking, eating and expressing, because-he made a long pause-because only one of you will be finally chosen for China’s new screen. It is the last competition you have to go through. You will have a year to perform at your best. The Supervisor will make his decision after that.

We were taken to a hospital for a medical checkup. The doctors acted secretively. I was put in a room and I undressed. The lower part of my body was being checked by three women doctors. A big woman doctor put on rubber gloves and carefully inspected my private parts. A few minutes later the big woman took off her rubber glove and recorded something in her notebook. The other two women let their grips loosen and allowed me off the bed. No word was said as they shuffled out. When I was taken out of the room, I saw Little Bell weeping. I was about to go up to her but was signaled back by Firewood. Firewood said in my ear that they had doubts about whether she was a virgin.

The whole afternoon we read Mao’s talks on the arts. I was bored but feigned interest. We sat in a circle. Read and read. At dinner I ordered two bowls of noodles. Soviet Wong showed me the correct way to hold chopsticks. A discussion was held after dinner in our room. The girls talked about how important Mao’s work was as our guide to the future. Little Bell was happy again. She was considered still a virgin after a serious record check. Sound of Rain and Soviet Wong yawned but did not leave until crickets sang loudly in the yard. The door slammed behind them. The smell of mold grew stronger.

We washed ourselves by the sink and poured the water into the grass. A cricket followed me as I came back into the room. Cheering Spear went to turn off the light. The cricket began to sing excitedly in the room. Cheering Spear got up holding a flashlight to search for it. I heard her foot tap five times. She shut the cricket up. The room became deadly quiet. In the dark I realized that it was a lion’s den I had entered. The darkness silenced a roaring cry. The coldness of thoughts froze me. I could hear the sound of my dream’s spine breaking. I knew that I had to succeed so I would be able to help Yan one way or another in the future. With that thought I drifted into sleep.