Anchee Min - Becoming Madame Mao

Original hand-bound manuscripts lie on top of the long narrow stands. In the middle of the room sits an eight-by-four-foot desk. On top of the desk is a set of brush pens, an ink jar, a tea mug, an ashtray and a magnifier. The inner room serves as Mao's bedroom. It has gray-white walls and dusty wine-colored curtains. A boatlike wooden bed has many adjustable bookcases. Outside, three-hundred-year-old pine trees spread their branches to the horizon. Beyond the limestone terrace is a branch of the Zhong-nan-hai Lake, its water grass green. Dog-faced fish gather under lotus leaves. On the left side, a new vegetable garden has just been completed. At the end of the garden is an arched stone door covered with ivy. Under the ivy is a path leading to the Garden of Stillness, where Jiang Ching resides.

The Garden of Stillness is protected by the Garden of Harvest but separate from it. To the public we live together. But the path from his place to mine has been unused for so long that moss has come to cover it. After the spring the entrance is blocked by leaves. The Garden of Stillness was once the residence of Lady Xiangfei, the favorite concubine of the Ming emperor. Lady Xiangfei was known for her naturally scented skin. She was said to be poisoned by the empress. To preserve her memory the emperor ordered the residence to be permanently vacant.

I love this place, its elegant furniture and ornaments. I adore the wildness of my garden, especially the two natural waterfalls. The architect designed the place around the water course. The bamboo bushes are thick outside my window. On full-moon nights, the place looks like a magnificent frosted ground.

Yet I have never felt this bad in my life.

I am left alone with all these treasures.

I am left with my nightmares.

I have helped hatch the eggs of your revolution! she hears herself scream. She gets up at night and sits in the dark. Cold sweat drips along her neckline. Her back is wet. Her cries crawl over the floor and stick in the wall. Mao no longer informs her of his whereabouts. His staff members avoid her. When she tries to talk to them, they show impatience as if she holds them hostage.

One night she breaks through the path and enters Mao's bedroom by surprise. She reaches him and sobs on her knees. My head is filled with a storm. The mirror in my room drives me crazy with a mad skeleton! She pleads, Make the place a home for the sake of our children.

Mao puts down his book. What's wrong with where we are now? Anyin is happy at the Army School of Technology; Anqin is doing well in Moscow University. Ming and Nah are both having a good time at the Party's boarding school. What more do you want?

She keeps sobbing.

He comes and covers her with his blankets. How about I order our chefs to share the cooking space?

That night she is tranquil. She dreams that she is sleeping the last sleep, during which her heartbeat stops and her cheeks freeze against his empty chest.

I excuse myself from the dinner table. Mao pays no attention. I walk into his bedroom, turn off the light and kick off my shoes. I lie down on his bed. Then comes the sound of his putting down his chopsticks. The sound of his striking up a match to light a cigarette. He doesn't like the modern lighters. He likes the big wooden matches. He likes to watch the match burn down to his fingers. He likes to watch the burnt end grow. It makes me sad that I have come to know his small habits.

The smoke drifts over. The garlic stinks badly tonight. I hear him walking toward his desk and pulling out his chair. I hear him turn a page of a document. In my mind's eye I see him making remarks on a document. Circles and crosses. The things we used to do together. He used to hand the pen to me and have me do the job while he enjoyed his cigarette. There has never been a discussion between us on what went wrong in our relationship. The dilemma has fed on trivial details.

He signs his name with a red brush. The new emperor. The past is still too clear. I can't forget the moment when I fell in love with the bandit! The images caress my memory's shore. I feel their tenderness.

For weeks and months I sit in my room daydreaming of the girl who carried her own sunshine. I have lost her spirit. Look at the landscape outside my window! The fabulous sunset! I remember the feeling of sitting on his lap while he conducted monumental battles. His hands were inside my shirt while the soldiers charged forward to honor his name.

A voice mimicking a fortuneteller tells me, Madame, you've got a gilded hook in your mouth.

The train plows through the thick snow. The beauty of northern ice trees and the whiteness strangely move her. She is on her way to a doctor. A Russian doctor. She had checked out her growing pain. A cyst was found in her cervix. She doesn't know why she wants to come to Russia. To escape what? Her cyst or her reality?

She is greeted by men from Moscow's Foreign Relations Bureau. Red-potato-nosed agents treat her as if she is Mao's deserted concubine. A short, rosy-cheeked translator, a Chinese woman, is with the men. She is bundled in a navy blue Lenin coat and carries herself like a big triangle. Stepping out of the station, Madame Mao is beaten by the harsh wind. The air from Siberia greets you! one red-nose says. Comrade Stalin is sorry that Comrade Mao Tse-tung's not here.

In her hotel room, holding her tea cup, she picks up a copy of People's Daily. The paper is sent by the embassy. The date is October 2, 1949. On the front page is a large photo of her husband. It is a wide-angle shot. He is on top of Tiananmen-the Gate of Heavenly Peace-inspecting a sea of parades. It is a good photo, she thinks. The photographer caught the elation leaping on Mao's face. He looks younger than fifty-four.

She turns the pages and suddenly sees Fairlynn's name. Fairlynn has not only survived the war, she has been active in the republic's establishment. Have they secretly kept in touch? Has she been invited to his study?

The guard at the Chrysanthemum-Fragrance Study blocks her and tells her that Mao is with a visitor and doesn't wish to be disturbed.

Hello, Chairman! I'm back! Madame Mao Jiang Ching pushes the guard to the side and invites herself in.

The room is dark. The blinds are down and the curtains are drawn. Mao is in his pajamas. He sits facing the door in his rattan chair. The visitor is a woman. She sits with her back toward Jiang Ching. She is in a navy blue Mao jacket. Seeing his wife Mao crosses his bare feet on a stool and says, The Siberian fox has come to share the spring with us.

The visitor turns around and stands up. Comrade Jiang Ching!

Comrade Fairlynn!

How have you been?

Better than ever! Madame Mao fetches herself a chair. Don't tell me that you are still single and still enjoying it.

Fairlynn supports her head with one hand and knits a crease in her trousers with the other. Her fingers nervously run back and forth along the crease. What's wrong, Comrade Jiang Ching? You are not well, are you?

Anna Karenina was stupid to kill herself for an unworthy man, Madame Mao responds. More tea!

But I was merely concerned about your health. After all you are the first lady and you have undergone surgery-it's news.

I want to tell Fairlynn that my wound has healed and the tissues have regenerated. My condition is more than perfect. I've conquered the pain. I'm nursing my heart. But there is something else I can't bear. Something, a bug, I must kill before I can go on. Fairlynn must be given this warning. She has gone too far.

My husband gets up and spits a mouthful of tea leaves into a spittoon. It's his way of shutting me up. I am humiliated. Deep within me violence begins to stir. The summons is too terrifying to measure.

Excuse me, Jiang Ching, I've promised Comrade Fairlynn a tour of the Forbidden City. It would be a shame for a writer like her not to know what's behind the great walls. Don't you agree?