Anchee Min - Becoming Madame Mao

She doesn't take her power for granted. She doesn't think that she now has complete control over her life. Deep down she doesn't trust Mao. She knows that Mao is capable of changing his mind. And his mind is deteriorating. When he called her to help with his mistress problem did he forget that she is his wife? She hears innocence in his voice. His pain is like that of a child being robbed of his favorite toy. Is it logical to assume that tomorrow he might turn around and not know her? His aging has enhanced his paranoia and she is balancing herself on his mind's beam. Being Madame Mao she never lacks enemies. The price for her success is that she no longer hesitates when it comes to eliminating enemies. Without a thought she now calls Kang Sheng at midnight to place a name on his execution list. She is trying hard to clip the mouths that won't shut, such as Fairlynn and Dan. She fears that when Mao passes away, her battle will be like sweeping back the ocean with a broom-she will be swallowed alive by her enemy.

She needs Chun-qiao and Yu. She needs loyalists in the military too. She remembers how Mao eliminated his enemies in Yenan. Some wrongful executions he made and later regretted. But he never lets the feeling poison him. He says, Victory doesn't come cheap. Now it is her turn. She repeats his phrase.

I am trying to make films. The operas and ballets. I have eight of them lined up and have set up the production in Beijing so I can supervise the details while conducting the Cultural Revolution at the same time. Yet things are not going as I had wished. The infighting between factions has worsened at Beijing Film Studio. Actors are made up and fully costumed. But they sit through the day without getting one shot on film. As the days drag on a rumor begins to spread: Unless Mao sends his garrison, there won't be a film.

I take the rumor to Mao. It is a warm day in May. He is in private meetings at the Grand Hall of the People. I can't eat, he greets me. My teeth are killing me. I am talking wills with my friends.

I look at him. His face and hands are visibly swollen.

What's up? he asks.

I worry about your health. Why don't you take a break?

How can I when my enemies are walking around my bed?

Same here. I am frustrated.

What's wrong?

I'm having a hard time getting the films off the ground. The opposition is strong.

Well, it's not our style to accept defeat.

But I don't want to add more strain to you.

Well, well, well, he laughs jokingly. Your enemies will murder you the moment I exhale my last breath.

My tears begin to well up. Truthfully, it might not be a bad solution.

He comes and sits me down gently. Looking at me he says, Calm down, Comrade Jiang Ching. You'll do fine. Just tell me how shall I help you?

Overnight, Mao's 8341 Garrison led by Commander Dee arrives at the Beijing Film Studio. The soldiers are armed and move swiftly and silently. They don't respond to greetings. The workers are sought out from their living quarters and are escorted to the cafeteria.

I am here to carry out Madame Mao Jiang Ching's order, Commander Dee, a short but strongly built man with an enormous nose, says. And I shall put up with no nonsense. Whoever disobeys my order will get a military treatment. By the way, I shall recognize no favors. Listen carefully. Platoon numbers one, three and four will find their duty spot behind all the cameras. My leaders will listen to no one else's instruction but the cinematographers. Platoon number two goes to the lighting department and platoon five will be in charge of the makeup and props. I myself will be at the command of the film's director and I'll be reporting to Madame Mao Jiang Ching daily.

In less than two days the cameras begin to roll. Within a month, half of the film is completed. Never again is there mention of faction conflicts. People work together as if operating a big family business. At the end of the day the exposed cans are sent to the lab to be processed and the next day the cuts are roughly edited and available to view.

Thrilled, Madame Mao inspects the set. She pats the shoulder of Commander Dee and praises his efficiency. If only I could get this kind of efficiency for all my projects! She begins to think about hiring Commander Dee for more jobs.

Don't confuse yourself. Mao holds his swollen cheek and speaks with irritation. You are not who you believe you are. The truth is that no one will take your orders if they don't see my shadow! When the air force commander in chief Wu Fa-xian answers your call his eyes are on the chair where I am sitting. When the Red Guards shout at the top of their voice A salute to Comrade Jiang Ching! it is I they want to please.

I understand, Chairman. I try hard to sound humble and non-argumentative. Please don't doubt that I have committed my life to helping you. And only you. I put my faith in my ability to get things done. Let me tell you about my recent creations. Let me show you the film cuts of the operas and ballets.

The operas are all right, Mao says. He picks up a hot towel from a steaming jar and places it against the swollen cheek. I am pleased with your work. The shows sound good. But don't ride them like a magic carpet. And this is my warning.

At this point he loses me. But I dare not mention my confusion. There are a lot of things we confuse each other with lately. We don't clarify. It is to keep peace. Probably confusion is better. I tell the public that I represent Mao but I am not in his life. I have no idea what his days are like. I don't enjoy chasing his mistress and I don't like the fact that he takes pleasure in intimidating me. He has been telling me how his commanders (and he won't spell out the names) would love to suffocate me in my own bed. It's tiring just to keep up with his imagination. Especially when he plays god and devil at the same time. Besides, he hates to be figured out.

The early spring is still chilly. In the morning the frost coats the Forbidden City white. This evening outside the window the vine frames shake violently. A storm has come-the winter's unwillingness to depart. Yet who can stop the spring from coming? After midnight, heavy clouds are swept from the sky. The moon is once again bare. The branches beat my windows like the knocks of spirits.

I don't know until Kang Sheng tells me later what happened on the night of the storm. April 30, 1967. Just before the clouds left the sky, Mao invited the old boys he had attacked previously to his study for a drink. He entertained them with deep-fried bear feet. He acted as if nothing had happened since February 18.

No wonder I was surprised to see all these old sticks show up happily at the celebration party on May 1 at the National Cultural Palace. I should have known that my husband was doing the two-faced trick. I should have understood that although Mao had been promoting me, my new power unnerves him and he needs to have another force to balance the game.

SHE GOES ON, LAUNCHING HERSELF aggressively into the future. On the surface she is the manager of Mao's powerhouse and she imagines herself above suffering like her opera heroines. But underneath there is no coming to terms with her feelings-she is exhilarated by her role, but also exhausted and nagged by doubt. Sometimes her love for Mao seems like desperation, sometimes like hate. And her sorrow about Nah has refused to go away. If she let herself, she could slip into depression. Every day she feels her character rot a bit. Last night, as she lay in bed, a girl from an ancient love story came to mind. The girl was a disappointed lover who poisoned the only well in the village.

They take advantage of the roles they play, Mao Tse-tung and Jiang Ching. They help each other and are getting closer to bringing the Lius down. There is still difficulty in making the public buy the negative image of Liu. He has been the Communist icon beside Mao for half a century. To solve the problem and strengthen her position Jiang Ching consults Kang Sheng on Mao's behalf.