.                        “Cousin” in Chongqing

     I arrived in Chongqing, the hub of transportation in this corner of China.

     When I escaped the LR squadron with Zouchi, I had  no idea of what unexpected encounters would face me on my escaping route. Upon the time of our leaving, many LRs, either based on friendship or a sense of righteousness, had expressed their support to my action-- To protest against physical abuse by means of escape. Some LRs gave their family address to me, telling me to ask for help if anything happened. But I knew this kind of action should not be recommended for fear of bringing ill consequence to their kindness. I did not jot down anyone of them.

     However, when I was in extreme difficulty with nowhere to go or stay, I did go to ask for help from two LR families respectively in Chongqing and Chengdu. It was during their visit to our squadron I had been introduced to them  and got acquainted. One member of the families fell into disaster due to my visit. For her, an endless sense of guilt will accompany me all my life.

     She was the wife of my best LR friend.  She was beautiful, sincere, loyal, honest, and also a kind mother working in the medical office of a workshop in the factory. She was living with their four-year-old daughter in the dormitory. On my arriving, she claimed I was a cousin of her husband’s to stall off doubts from nosy coworkers.

     Their workshop was only in semi-operation due to the recession everywhere. Elsewhere in this state-owned enterprise was still like a churchyard. In the collective dormitory, among two dozen beds only two were occupied, and I was one of them to sleep in some unknown person’s bed. I had lice with me, some of them must have got lost and found a new home somewhere in other’ beds. It was a regret I felt guilty but no way to apologize.

    Since the shortage of staff in the workshop, my ‘cousin’ not only had her regular job in the medical office, but also to do secretarial work in the general office. The official stamp of the workshop was under her charge.

     Though the welcome of my ‘cousin’ toward my visit was sincere, it should not become the proper excuse for me to exploit their food ration; not to mention that even the ration of both the mother and daughter added together was far from enough to support my empty stomach. I could only buy the cheapest sweet potato leaves from the market in her absence, and I cooked on a small stove for my meal. The leaves were usually served as pig feed, not to be consumed even by the poorest peasant family in normal years. At regular mealtime I just told her that I had had my meal already. I only asked her to lend me one hundred yuan that amounted to her two months’ salary, at which she generously consented. I wrote a letter to my wife in Xinjiang in her presence asking for payback of the loan. (She did it afterwards).

     With money at hand, the second problem was a letter of introduction, the prerequisite for my travel, at which my ‘cousin’ showed her confidence. She went to the office At night, took out an official stamp to show me; but I found the stamp of the workshop was only good  for internal use within the territory of the factory, not eligible for public use. At this, my ‘cousin’ again had her way. She first inked the stamp, then using a tiny piece of paper to mask the character of “second workshop”, so the final product showed itself to be the official stamp of the factory, not just a workshop. She told me this was a common practice nowadays for trying to purchase extra rationed food from state-owned shops. She made three blank stamped letters for me just like kids playing games, with no idea of the possible serious consequence.

     Who could foresee that only in two weeks, I was betrayed by another ‘friend’ and under arrest, her kind-hearted help was exposed; my sincere and innocent ‘cousin’ had paid a terrible price of five years’ sentence for it. In those years of “class struggle is the key link”, through this prison term, she had fallen into a status of panchams (untouchables) and was to suffer a life long discrimination as a class enemy. Another twenty years passed, although the case was corrected, the wound of a broken family would forever be bleeding, even the omnipotent God was not able to restore it.

     If remorse can be measured or compared, I will say without any exaggeration that the harm I brought to my ‘cousin’ is the utmost regret in my whole life.  Toward this kindhearted mother, the most innocent woman in all my life, my remorse is endless just like a forever flowing river.

                             Big Sister’ in Chengdu 

     With money and introduction letters at hand, I was able to be underway again. Actually I had no plan at all. I didn’t have any other things to do in Chongqing, so I escaped to Chengdu two days later.

     A couple of days right before my escape, the sister of my inmate friend Huang Jiangrong came to visit him from Chengdu. In 1956 Huang and I were both delegates to the Literature Conference in Chengdu. We had works printed in the same magazine twice. Though not closely related, still we were somehow acquainted.   A week before, Huang had been put into confinement in the battalion for planning to escape. Only because of his sister’s visit was he temporarily escorted back, to be confined in our squadron to receive her. There was no armed guard at squadron level, so confinement here was only to stay out of field work and that’s all. Huang was excited to have learned from his friends that I was going to escape shortly. He invited me to see him at his confinement chamber, and introduced me to his sister. He gave me the address of his sister, saying that I might resort to her in case of difficulty. Sister Huang nodded her consent. Now in a difficult situation, I ventured to visit her for help.

     I met with Sister Huang Jiangfang in a simple and bedraggled flat. Like all of the ordinary Chinese families, the room was narrow and the furniture outworn, displaying the simplicity at the margin of impoverishment. Her husband was out. Sister Huang whispered to me that her husband was an element under surveillance, presently was called to the office of street authority to listen to daily instructions. For a family in her situation, if my visit was exposed, the consequence would be destructive. Aware of this I only asked for a used cotton padded coat of her husband, for my unlined garment was way behind the season with the bitter winds of early winter. Sister Huang gave it to me without hesitation and I took my leave instantly. But she would not accept, saying: “ Oh, no! You come from such a long way, how could you leave without having a meal with us”? She just would not let me go.

     Thanks to Sister Huang’s great hospitality, I had witnessed a scene of extreme misery that I would never forget to the end of my days. She first bent down into her rice pail, scraped to the bottom for the last grains of rice, producing a raucous grating sound like wailing; next she sent her eight year old daughter to borrow a tiny cup of rapeseed oil from her neighbor, because she must make a dish sautéing with oil to treat me. When her daughter came back with the tiny cup of oil, she paced so gingerly with every step, like she was holding a priceless treasure, for fear of any single drop of oil being split out. One step, another step…….I felt like every step was treading on my heart. An innocent who otherwise should be a playful young girl underwent such a heavy burden of life!

     Oh, My miserable Motherland, how you have been mistreated!

2.                        A Casual Rendezvous with Jiangqing

     Sichuan was a dangerous ‘mined area’ for me, I had to leave as soon as possible.

     I found my way to Chengdu railway station. In those years, Chengdu railway station was simple and crude. Across from the street facing the entrance of the station were some simple storefronts. Hanging atop of the window was a red horizontal banner indicating it was the railway service station. Right under the banner, I saw a graceful-looking girl of slim build standing. Looking closely I remembered at the you-min collecting post, I saw her being questioned : “ Are you still named Jiangqing?”  Also I remembered the ‘infamous robber’ had told me her real name was Dai meng. Same as me, she was also a rightist; same as me, she was a rightist sent to LR; again same as me, she was an escapee from a LR institution. The sole difference was: she assumed a name of Jiangqing and became a prostitute, while my assumed name was Li Weimin and I was still ‘unemployed’. With so many similarities, I should go over to greet her.

     I stepped to her side whispered my greeting into her ear: “How are you, Daimeng?”  She was shocked and stared at me with frightened eyes while I gave her my explanation with a smile: “I have also been soaked at Post Alley collecting post”. This calmed her down. Being of the same species, the distance between us disappeared instantly. I told her it was unsafe at the railway station, we’d better walk away while talking.

     We strolled side by side toward the fields in the east. She told me she originally worked at the Third People’s Hospital in Chongqing. In 1957 she voiced her criticism at her superior and paid the price of being labeled as a Rightist and was send to Shapin LR Farm in Ebian County, from where she successfully escaped. I had the knowledge that in early 1958, when the punishment of Rightists started, all females and weak males were sent to this remote farm.

     We walked to the untended grassland by a small creek, Jiangqing continued her story: “After escape I was first hiding in my maternal grandmother’s home in the countryside, who loved me so much in my childhood. My grandpa was executed in the Land Reform campaign. I was thinking to stay there and accompany my poor grandma for the rest of my life, but my presence was discovered and reported. Soon a bunch of militiamen came to arrest me. I hid in the haystack frightened to death. After that I could stay no more and managed to get to Chongqing, where I came across Little Ma, a real beauty from Xichang. Together with a couple other girls we started muddling along for a living around the railway station area”. (I remembered the so-called Four Beauties from Xichang). For return, I told her my whole story as far as my real name. Also we gave vent to our anger about the disaster the Communist regime brought about to our country. Across from the stream some peasants took us for lovers, started bantering loudly with typical rural area implicit obscenity, which we discarded as though not heard.

     I noticed it was getting late and also hunger was striking, so I asked her if there was anything I could help her with, to which she responded: “ I don’t think you have money to spare, just help me with a blank introduction letter”. I asked which name she would use in the letter. After weighing and pondering, she chose a name of Jiangchun. A little change, but it was better, for the name Jiangqing was too well known.

     We went to a small restaurant close by, the newly-named Jiangchun went over to occupy a table, while I joined in the queue with money and ration coupon at hand. In a short while, I was able to purchase a couple of dirty tiny bamboo plates, which was used to get hold of the food we urgently needed. We washed down everything just in seconds. (In the ‘Nature Calamity’ years, for most of our hungry Chinese compatriots, our munching function was replaced by swallowing). It was approaching dark when we stepped out of the restaurant. I was trying to say good-bye to her while she asked: “I haven’t finished yet. Could we have another talk tomorrow”? I agreed not without hesitation but promised to see her at 10:00 AM in front of the bronze statue of Dr. Sun Yetsan at Chunshi Street. Upon leaving I told her I was going to a street called Niushikou where the hotel was the cheapest. By chance she was heading to the same direction, so we went together.

          Not far on our way, she pulled my right arm with both her hands while asking:“ Honestly I could walk no more. Let’s get a pedicab.” I disliked the suggestion, thinking how could she still indulge herself when we were in such a helpless condition. But I restrained myself and did so. Once on the pedicab, she leaned her head against my shoulder weakly. When I looked down I saw that her crossed legs were swollen with severe edema, definitely in danger of  immediate spreading to the whole body. A condition like this definitely made walking difficult. I felt guilty for my previous resentment with pitiful and sympathetic feelings toward this abused poor girl filled my heart. At this time she tenderly whispered into my ear: “Do you want to take me?”

To speak honestly, for a guy in his twenties with no wife at his side, for a man never presumed to climb to the peak of morality, and in a year when people have no idea of the name of AIDS, facing a pretty young girl’s soft and tender offering, how could I be untouched like a mummy?  However, in my “Interlude” that I had already described, ‘nature calamity’ had ‘spayed’ me to a state of impotent eunuch, but I hated to make a straight confession before her. I could not but point to her swollen leg by saying: “Look at you, How swollen your legs became! You must take good care of yourself.” By means of hypocrisy I covered my inability. 

          The next day we met at the statue as agreed. She suggested grab a bite, saying: “ Let’s get somewhere to eat, today’s my treat”. We went to a restaurant near by. All the food in the restaurant was the same thing as we had yesterday, but she wanted more. Taking out a small wad of cash, she went to buy some grilled cakes. I caught a glance at her amount of money, guessing last night after we departed, despite her illness, she must have sacrificed herself again and found someone willing to pay her. A kind of sadness hard to describe came across my mind, and the cake became tasteless.

      Later we came to the People’s Park, sitting on the ground to continue our talk yesterday. I mentioned my destination was Sian. She lowered her head meditating for a while then asked meekly: “I am wondering if you could take me along with you”? Such a suggestion to travel like a loving couple was never without temptation. It was by far superior to roaming alone, not to mention we shared the same destiny and she was so lovely. Besides, I was not going to be that kind of ‘bastard’ over the long haul…. Nevertheless, in consideration of the livelihood we had to face everyday, romantic thoughts lost its glare under the heavy pressure of survival. Furthermore, there’s my loving wife who had sacrificed everything on my account. With this very thought I lowered my head. Seeing me remaining silent, she added: “Am I not to your fancy”? I replied: “This is not a problem of fancy, but a problem of survival……How could I be supported by Jiangqing”? At the end I added with: “Truthfully you are prettier than my wife. But my wife had paid too high a price for me, you are not expecting me to be an ungrateful base person”? She lowered her head without a word.

          Four hours later, I was on the train to Sian by myself, with tear in our eyes I left Jiangchun to her predicable destiny. Oh, poor girl, I was helpless myself, how could I help you?