and called her ‘auntie’.
Ying couldn’t hide her delight. ‘How big Xiaoshan has grown, he’s like an adult.’ They chatted about his school. I could see there was nothing that didn’t interest her, so I left them talking and went to cook dinner.
After dinner, we again sat for a while. Before we knew it, it was eight. She said she had to go. I tried to stop her, but she had to work the next day. She said she would come again. I took her to the tram stop. She had to cross Beijing, from the eastern outskirts to the western outskirts. This made me anxious, for she was no longer the Big Sister Ying of ten years ago. That made me treasure her visit even more.
* A leader of Chinese Communist intelligence in the 1930s, accused of treason in 1955 and posthumously rehabilitated.
It was deep autumn. The Ministry of Public Security wrote asking me to visit F. The letter arrived in the afternoon and I had to go the next morning, so I had no time for shopping. I took some books I had bought and some apples, and I popped into the food shop to buy some chilli oil. When I reached Shahe it was eleven. I ate a bowl of noodles and caught the bus to Qincheng. I didn’t have to wait long. The person on duty led him out and left us alone.
F had changed his clothes. He was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved jacket and trousers, both unlined, with a pullover peeping out from underneath. It was my cream jumper. It turned out that after his arrest he’d written home to ask for clothes and my mother and our son had got my jumper mixed up with his woollen underclothes.
Seeing me shake my head, he chuckled self-deprecatingly and said:
‘It’s good, it means I can always be with you. I use it as the lowest layer.’
I explained why I hadn’t come recently. He turned the criticism on himself. He was too thoughtless, too ignorant of the outside world.
This time everything seemed more natural. He started off by saying:
‘Tell me about your lives over the last few years. I’ve been constantly anxious about you.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. You just live. At the start, I wanted to die. After you left, they took me away too. They kept me locked up for 70 months. It was thanks to mother they released me. She died, and they had her body in the morgue. Xiaofeng asked the Ministry of Public Security to let me go home to take care of the funeral. They let me. It was the three-year period of hardship, so I kept things simple. I didn’t tell the relatives, they wouldn’t have been able to come anyway. I cremated her, as quickly as I could. I’ve got the ashes. When I get the chance, I’ll send them back to Changzhou.’
He lowered his head and said in a quiet voice:
‘That pitiful old lady, she gave so much and received so little. We should be ashamed. She shared our hardship for so many years. I thought when things improved, we could make her life better, but instead we made things harder for her. I always thought I would see her when I came out and be able to make amends.’
‘During my 70 months of introspection, the entire family depended on her. She was almost 80. Xiaoshan had just turned eight, and Xiaofeng was only 16 and at high school. Xiaogu was in Nanjing, at university. Mother looked after everything, single-handedly. I dread to think what would have happened but for her. When she fell ill and went to hospital, she pointed at the door and told Xiaofeng to lock it. She lived with us because she loved me so much. She helped out in everything. We were selfish, we didn’t sufficiently value her labour, her dedication to us. Because of me and her beloved grandchildren, she could never bear to go. She couldn’t even get her dying wish to see her daughter one last time.’
I choked back the sobs. F wept with me, unable to find words with which to console me. He pulled down his sleeve to wipe his face and tried to wipe mine, but I took out a hankie. Seeing him cry made me think of my mother, how she had cried and wiped away my tears.
There was something else I had to tell him. Otherwise, he might blame me.
‘We no longer have that house. You put so much effort into it, but it’s been torn down. When I was released, we went to live in a compound in Dongcheng. It was old and dilapidated. Mother got pneumonia. She hadn’t eaten well for years. How could an 80-year-old survive that! I’m to blame. We are responsible for her suffering.’
Again, I started crying, and so did he.
I asked about prison life. He said, ‘I was interrogated hundreds of times, but I don’t think any big problems emerged. I can’t think of anything worse, if they had killed me, it would have been fine, because it wouldn’t have been my mistake, it would even have brought me some relief. What worries me now is my young friends – I don’t know what tribulations they have suffered. I’ve never acted out of personal interest, I’ve never chased fame or profit. I acted as any Chinese should. I had no evil intent, and whatever happens I will accept the Party’s ruling. I hope you do too. Don’t harbour illusions, believe in the Party and the masses. Perhaps I won’t live to hear the verdict, but I’m a materialist and I believe history will be fair. But you should prepare for the worst.’
I understood. I could only support him. As he said, you can’t barter your principles. Perhaps hardships would beset us, but I could bear it.
He seemed to relax, and there was even the trace of a smile of self-belief. I also felt at ease. The ten years of family dispersal belonged to the past. What more was there to fear?
I looked at my watch – it was almost four. I said it’s started getting dark sooner, I must go. He shot to his feet.
‘Right, you go. Next time, don’t bring any books, the Marx and Engels are enough. Also, I have a premonition things are about to change for the better.’
We shook hands in the hall. Seeing his tragic face pained me. I said, ‘Don’t be sad. Mother lived into her eighties. She lived her full span. As long as we’re all safe, our family is indestructible.’ He gripped me with both hands.
I took my visitor’s pass to the front entrance, but the guard noticed I hadn’t been signed out. I paced back and forth. It was deep autumn and the sun was dropping, so it began to feel cold. The wind blew, fiercer than in the city, and cut into my face. But I had to wait. A long-distance bus started out. Was it the last one? Even though my husband was in that big building, he couldn’t come out to protect me. I was on a prison visit. I couldn’t go in, nor could I leave. All I could do was stand there, and wait. My feet started aching, but there was nowhere to sit. I got thirsty, but there was no water. I was a prisoner’s dependant – who would show sympathy? And this was a prison, dedicated to enforcing the law.
Just after five, the pock-marked duty officer appeared from nowhere. Seeing me standing there timidly, he looked shocked and said:
‘What, haven’t you left yet?’ He tore the form from my hand and signed it.
I took hold of his arm.
‘Are there any more buses?’ If not, I had to make sure he didn’t leave, and that he thought of a way out for me. There were no villages or shops. Where could I go?
He glanced at his watch. ‘The last bus leaves at six.’ Saying that, he disappeared.
I walked over to the main road. Four or five people were waiting at the bus stop, which cheered me up. Whatever happened, I would have company. The sky turned yellow-grey. Summer’s green curtain of crops had vanished. Not a stalk was left, just an expanse of ploughed yellow earth. The seeds were preparing for the long winter.
From somewhere in the distance, a flock of red-bellied birds flew by chirping loudly. Then came a group of young peasants on their way home from a building site. They were riding brand-new bikes and wearing big black overcoats, unbuttoned so you could see the white lining of their cotton-padded jackets and red sweatshirts. They flashed past, leaving behind a streak