as soon as possible. The meeting is over. You can go home.’
Like a primary-school student hearing the final bell, I was the first to reach the door. I had attended the class, but was it a disaster or a blessing? Although the police chief had said more than once that he wanted to help us remove out hats, I still looked on the dark side, since they could hardly remove all the hats. They had to leave some on, as a warning to others. In that case, I was doomed.
At first, I thought they might put me under the control of the neighbourhood committee and make me do manual labour, so I went for a check-up in the hospital, to make sure I was in good health. Everything was in order. Even my eyes were 1.5. This consoled me. As long as my health held out, I had nothing to fear.
Not long afterwards, I was again summoned to attend a class. I noticed the old lady who lived in the block behind mine give the police chief a big envelope. I couldn’t hear what they said, but I saw the police chief nod repeatedly and smile. He was in a good mood. He said to the young mother, ‘It’s a cold day, you needn’t stay, we don’t want your child to catch cold, he’s our next generation. No need to come next time!’
As he spoke, he took out the envelope and waved it, saying, ‘This is the title deed for Liu XX’s land.* She just handed it to me. She said previously she had never dared to hand it in, because she didn’t trust the Government’s policy of leniency. Now she knows the truth. She has made up her mind to draw a clear class line between herself and the old landlord exploiting class. We applaud her decision.’
This was like throwing a stone into a pond. An old fat lady got to her feet and spoke. Her husband was a senior army officer in the KMT who fled with his concubine to Taiwan and left his wife behind in Changsha. She had come to Beijing to take refuge with her daughter, who was at university. Her daughter had asked her to take her child home to the village. She said, ‘I was never more than my husband’s servant. During land reform, I was classified as a landlord, and they told me to hand in my gun. But I had no gun. He had taken it long ago. Where would I hide a gun? My daughter is a state cadre.’
The police chief remained expressionless.
Finally, an old man spoke out. I had often met him while buying food or having breakfast. Not until I heard him speak did I realise that he was a big landlord. He criticised himself: ‘In the village, I liked growing flowers and keeping pet birds. I lived the life of an exploiting landlord. Once when it started raining, I ordered my hired hand to help me move the chrysanthemums indoors. I valued flowers more than people. Now, I cook and do odd jobs for my son and his children. Not half as much as what my hired help had to do, but even so I still tell the children off for exploiting my manual labour. That’s wrong, of course. Another thing. I really want to serve the people and do things for others. I know a bit of Chinese medicine, so if one of the neighbours gets a headache, I give them a prescription. I only realised later that was against the law, because I don’t have a licence. Police chief Liu taught me that it was criminal, so I’ve stopped treating people. In future, I’ll strengthen my ideological reform.’
Police chief Liu said, ‘That’s good. Wang XX’s behaviour is very good, he knows how to criticise his past mistakes and that he has to change, that’s very good.’
It seemed to me he was trying to mobilise us to make similar self-criticisms. I was apprehensive. But when I looked at the others and saw them sitting there like Mount Tai, heads bent and pens scribbling, I pretended to concentrate on listening. I also started scribbling, to show I was studying 100 per cent. The man with the 0.3 eyesight was using a home-made magnifying glass to supplement his thick pair of spectacles while he took notes, with a look that was conscientious and Herculean.
This satisfied the police chief, who said with an air of confidence and affirmation, ‘We are determined to help. You must also resolve to strengthen your ideological education. We hope to remove your hats at the latest by the Spring Festival. Our job is to turn you into new people who support the Communist Party. We expect you to show you have drawn a clear line between yourselves and the reactionary classes. XX’s behaviour is worth studying, because it shows she has split from the landlord class and drawn even closer to our Party.’
All of us were close to tears, constantly nodding.
I hurried off, not wanting to talk, and slowed down only when I reached the main road. I started to ponder what to do at the next meeting. How could I demonstrate that I had drawn a line under my erroneous thinking?
The first idea that entered my head was ‘learn from the workers, peasants, and soldiers.’ I should do manual labour. That would be the best way of showing my resolve.
The man next door worked for a building company, and the old ladies in his family used to greet me courteously. Some families did appliqué work, others took in children. It didn’t seem a good idea to take in children, for I might be accused of corrupting them by spreading bourgeois ideology. The alternative was appliqué work. My eyes were still good. I couldn’t do cross-stitching or flower embroidery, but I could sew and mend. I hurried over to discuss it with one of the old ladies, who agreed to give me some work.
I also went to see Mrs Jin, on the floor above. She had always been very good to me. She was by herself during the day, and so was I, so we used to sit and chat. A decent and kindly middle-aged woman, she was timid and over-cautious. She used to invite me to accompany her to meetings of the neighbourhood committee or to do voluntary labour. She was a good needlewoman and could do embroidery on the sewing machine. Her aim in life was to ensure her husband and children lived and ate well. I explained my plan. She said, ‘Even if you only earn ten yuan a month, it’s better than nothing.’
Her husband worked for a big company. According to her, he was a fine man who stayed aloof from the world. It seemed unlikely he would try to stop me.
People’s Daily used a whole page to reprint Yao Wenyuan’s ‘Criticism of the New Historical Drama Hai Rui Dismissed from Office’, prefaced by an editorial note. The note suggested a new turn of events that did not look encouraging. Reading the ominous portents, I had the feeling we were in for a period of instability. Was a change in the offing, as Big Sister Ying had predicted? Did it augur well for us, or not?
* A poor, working-class or peasant background.
* In most cases, Mei Zhi uses XX or XXX to disguise the names of officials and other people who might be made vulnerable by their appearance in this book.
Beijing is coldest at the start of winter. The Slight Snow and the Great Snow were still ahead of us. We had not yet reached December, so the central heating was still off. Outdoors icicles were forming, and the north wind cut to the marrow. Even when you got home, it was still icy.
I received a summons from the woman comrade. She told me:
‘Our Party has done everything possible to save him, but he’s stubborn. We would like you to cooperate. Tomorrow I’ll go with you to Qincheng.’
We arranged for her to fetch me.
However, I was due for a study session. I told her, and I explained they were preparing to remove our hats. I was hoping they would choose another date.
The cadre in charge of the case listened in surprise. After thinking for a bit, he said, ‘You don’t need to study any more, we have our own plan.’
I
