so I had been unable to cast a vote. Between my release in 1961 and the third general election in 1963, my name had been restored to the list. When I went in trepidation to read the list and found my name on it, I wept tears of gratitude, for that meant I had the right to exist, as a citizen. I was part of the Chinese people, not its enemy. Now I was once again invited to hear the report on the election. How could I not go?
The two cadres were at a loss to understand me. All they could do was shake their heads and say, ‘Listen to it at the next election!’
The next morning, a car came to fetch me, and we sped along the highway into the open countryside.
The woman comrade said, ‘Did you bring food for Hu Feng?’
‘A bit of braised beef and smoked fish.’
‘Did you cook it last night?’
I smiled faintly. ‘That’s my duty.’
She also smiled.
She spoke most. She dropped lots of hints, repeating her suggestion that I help Hu Feng acknowledge his guilt. She said, ‘We’ve waited a long time. He should show some awareness. The Party is never wrong, he must recognise his guilt.’
I couldn’t think of a reply.
‘Then we can deal with him leniently. Otherwise, we will have to leave it to the law.’
‘The law!’ The word scared me. What law had he broken? ‘What can I do to help him? Is he likely to listen to me?’
The car drove right up to the main building, without stopping. F had been alerted, for he came towards us. We met in the usual room. He was wearing a black quilted jacket, clumsily done up with some buttons in the wrong holes. He looked untidy. But he was animated. The woman comrade sat there, but he ignored her. He asked, ‘Did you get the letter?’
‘Yes, but some of the books were hard to find.’
‘No longer any need, I’ve got no time for reading.’
Something must have happened.
I said, ‘Don’t be pessimistic. All you have to do is admit your criminal behaviour, say why you wrote the 300,000-word memo, explain the origins of your thinking, that sort of thing, and you will be granted leniency. Think it over for the sake of the family. Admit your guilt.’
I clumsily rushed out my prepared speech.
He stared at me, radiating such an air of dignity that I lowered my head. I realised my speech would not have the desired effect. But he kept his temper, and simply smiled coldly.
‘You think I haven’t admitted my guilt? Wherever possible, I’ve assumed responsibility.’ His voice soared, like in the old days.
‘You can’t deny facts. After all, the Party can’t be wrong!’
‘I know I’ve committed crimes against the Party. They can chop my head off, I won’t complain. They might bring me to trial, but you mustn’t worry, it’s nothing to do with you, it’s me that implicated you, you’re just an obedient wife, I’m the guilty one.’
I looked down, tears streaming.
‘Don’t be sad. I can stand it, you needn’t worry. They wanted to find me a defender, but I refused. I’ve defended myself and lots of other people for the last ten years, and still I haven’t gained the Government’s confidence. Could anyone defend me? What a joke.’
The mission I had been given seemed to have failed. I had been unable to convince him. I didn’t blame him, and I had no regrets. Neither he nor I could have acted differently.
‘If you don’t want a defender, then don’t accept one. Whatever the case, we hope you’ll be found not guilty and set free.’
He smiled, and then asked me how things were at home. In my previous letter, I had told him about Xiaofeng’s wish to marry.
‘If she wants to, then let her. I just hope I won’t implicate them.’
The woman comrade stood up, indicating the visit was at an end.
F came towards me, grasped my hand, and said:
‘Whatever happens, stay strong. It doesn’t matter if they bring me to trial. What worries and grieves me is that I might implicate others. I’ve already implicated enough people.’ He let go of my hand.
‘Go back, don’t worry, if anything happens, I’ll write to you. Get me a pair of thick cotton-padded trousers, made of coarse cloth.’ He gestured at the quilted clothes he was wearing, stitched together with crude needles and thick thread, which came unbuttoned at the slightest tug. ‘Out of doors you couldn’t survive the winter in this.’
The woman comrade and the secretary came to return him to his cell. I handed him the food I had brought. I reached into my shopping-bag and took out a dozen Sichuan tangerines. His hands were already full of paper bags, so I stuffed them into his pockets, and when his pockets were full, I balanced the rest on the bags. He mouthed noiselessly at me, smiled bitterly, and left clutching the food.
The woman comrade and I got into the car and drove back into the city.
No one had summoned me to any meetings, and I thought perhaps they had cancelled my right to vote. I was worried. I had already guessed F would not achieve a good outcome.
I got out the appliqué work I had received the day before and took up my needle, in the hope it would calm me down.
They were tea cloths, probably for a foreign market. I had to lockstitch a dogtooth border, with embroidered corners. The stitching had to be quite fine. I worked out that if I did five a day, I would earn 15 yuan a month. I wanted to find out how many I could do in a day. An experienced needlewoman could earn 30 or 40 yuan a month.
The work failed to calm me, and I kept pricking myself. I became even more agitated when another letter arrived from the Ministry of Public Security. I was to go to see them the next morning. Would it be bad news or good?
The old cadre handed me a statement of charges. Before I could study it, the woman comrade said I should follow her to fetch some things. Secretary Shi dug out a big rattan bag full of letters and books and a medium-sized leather suitcase, confiscated when our home was searched. There was also a piece of cloth with some of F’s things. They were giving me back my things – that meant they had wound up my case.
Looking at those two huge packages, I didn’t know what to do. However, people usually recover their wits under pressure, so I opened the rattan bag, put the suitcase in it, removed my scarf to use as a string, and tied it all together. It was heavy, but I could still lift it. I signed for it, ready to leave.
Perhaps they took pity on me, or perhaps they were worried bystanders would disapprove, for the woman comrade said to Secretary Shi in a wheedling tone, ‘Couldn’t you take it on the back of your bike?’
Secretary Shi didn’t look too pleased, but nevertheless he loaded up the bag and case.
To signal his status and authority, he put on a hard look and said, ‘These incorrigible elements. We still have quite a few to sentence. We’ll bring them to trial and
