Chairman Mao, our beloved leader, smiled down at us from his place above the blackboard. The sounds and smells of the tantalizing May afternoon drifted in through the window. The sweet breeze carried the scent of new leaves and tender young grass and rippled the paper slogan below Chairman Mao’s picture: STUDY HARD AND ADVANCE EVERY DAY. In the corner behind me the breeze also rustled the papers hanging from the Students’ Garden, a beautifully decorated piece of cardboard that displayed exemplary work. One of them was my latest perfect math test.
We were having music class, but we couldn’t keep our minds on the teacher’s directions. We were all confused by the two-part harmony of the Young Pioneers’ Anthem. “We are Young Pioneers, successors to Communism. Our red scarves flutter on our chests,” we sang over and over, trying to get the timing right. The old black pump organ wheezed and squeaked as impatiently as we did. We made another start, but Wang Dayong burst out a beat early, and the whole class broke into laughter.
Just then Principal Long appeared at the door. She walked in, looking less serious than usual, and behind her was a stranger, a beautiful young woman dressed in the People’s Liberation Army uniform. A Liberation Army soldier! She was slim and stood straight as a reed. Her eyes sparkled, and her long braids, tied with red ribbons, swung at her waist. There was not a sound in the classroom as all forty of us stared at her in awe.
Principal Long told us to stand up. The woman soldier smiled but did not speak. She walked up and down the aisles, looking at us one by one. When she finished, she spoke quietly with Principal Long. “Tong Chao and Jiang Ji-li,” Principal Long announced. “Come with us to the gym.” A murmur rose behind us as we left the room. Tong Chao looked at me and I looked at him in wonder as we followed the swinging braids.
The gym was empty.
“I want to see how flexible you are. Let me lift your leg,” the Liberation Army woman said in her gentle voice. She raised my right leg over my head in front of me. “Very good! Now I’ll support you. Lean over backward as far as you can.” That was easy. I bent backward until I could grab my ankles like an acrobat. “That’s great!” she said, and her braids swung with excitement.
“This is Jiang Ji-li.” Principal Long leaned forward proudly. “She’s been studying martial arts since the second grade. She was on the Municipal Children’s Martial Arts Team. Their demonstration was even filmed.”
The Liberation Army woman smiled sweetly. “That was very good. Now you may go back to your classroom.” She patted me on my head before she turned back to test Tong Chao.
I went back to class, but I could not remember the song we were singing. What did the Liberation Army woman want? Could she want to choose me for something? It was too much to contemplate. I hardly moved when the bell rang to end school. Someone told me that the principal wanted to see me. I walked slowly down the hall, surrounded by my shouting and jostling classmates, seeing only the beautiful soldier, feeling only the electric tingle of her soft touch on my head.
The office door was heavy. I pushed it open cautiously. Some students from the other sixth-grade classes were there already. I recognized Wang Qi, a girl in class two, and one of the boys, You Xiao-fan of class four. I didn’t know the other boy. The three of them sat nervously and respectfully opposite Principal Long. I slipped into a chair next to them.
Principal Long leaned forward from her big desk. “I know you must be wondering about the Liberation Army soldier,” she said. She sounded cheerful and excited. “Why did she come? Why did she want you to do back bends?” She looked at us one by one and then took a long sip from her tea mug as if she wanted to keep us guessing, “She was Comrade Li from the Central Liberation Army Arts Academy.”
I slowly took a deep breath.
“She is recruiting students for the dance training class. She selected you four to audition. It’s a great honor for Xin Er Primary School. I’m very proud of all of you, and I know you’ll do your best.”
I did not hear the rest of her words. I saw myself in a new Liberation Army uniform, slim and standing straight as a reed, long braids swinging at my waist. A Liberation Army soldier! One of the heroes admired by all, who helped Chairman Mao liberate China from oppression and defeated the Americans in Korea. And a performer, just like my mother used to be, touring the country, the world, to tell everyone about the New China that Chairman Mao had built and how it was becoming stronger and stronger.
I couldn’t help giving Wang Qi a silly smile.
“Mom! Dad! Grandma!” I panted up the steep, dark stairs, in too much of a hurry to turn on the light, and tripped over some pots stored on the steps. I couldn’t wait to tell them my news. I knew they would all be as excited as I was.
Our apartment was bright and warm and welcoming. Burgundy curtains shut the darkness outside and made the one big room even cozier. In front of the tall French window our square mahogany table was covered with steaming dishes and surrounded by my family, who were laughing and chattering when I rushed in. They all looked up expectantly.
“Everybody, guess what! Today a Liberation Army woman came to school and she tested me and she wants me to audition for the Central Liberation Army Arts Academy. Just think! I could be in the Liberation Army! And I could be a performer, too! Isn’t it great?” I picked up our cat, Little White, and gave her a big kiss.
“It’s lucky I studied martial arts for so long. When the Liberation Army woman saw my back bend, she just loved it.” I twirled around on my toes and snapped my heels together in a salute. “Comrade Grandma, Jiang Ji-li reporting!”
My younger brother, Ji-yong, jumped up from the table and saluted me. My little sister, Ji-yun, started to twirl around as I had done, but she slipped and fell. We jumped to the floor with her and rolled around together.
“Ji-li,” I heard Dad call. I looked up. Mom and Dad and Grandma were looking at each other solemnly. “It might be better not to do the audition.” Dad spoke slowly, but his tone was serious, very serious.
“What?”
“Don’t do the audition, Ji-li.” He looked straight at me this time, and sounded much more forceful.
“Don’t do the audition? Why not?”
Dad shook his head.
I grabbed Mom’s arm. “Mom, why not?”
She squeezed my hand and looked at me worriedly. “Your father means that the recruitment requirements are very strict.”
“Wow. You really scared me, Dad.” I laughed with relief. “I know that. Principal Long told us it would be very competitive. I know it’s just an audition, but who knows? I might be lucky, right?” I picked up a steamed bun and took a bite.
“I’m not just talking about talent,” Dad said. “There are more important requirements, political considerations…”
“Oh, Dad, that’s no problem.” I took another big bite of the bun. I was an Outstanding Student, an Excellent Young Pioneer, and even the da-dui-zhang, the student chairman of the whole school. What more could they want? My mouth was full, so I stretched out my arm to show Dad my da-dui-zhang badge, a plastic tag with three red stripes.
I saw a pain in Dad’s eyes that I had never seen before.
“The problem isn’t with you yourself, Ji-li. What I mean is that the political background investigations at these academies are very severe.”
“Political background investigation? What’s that?”
“That is an investigation into the class status of your ancestors and all members of your family.” He leaned back in his chair, and the lampshade put his face in shadow. “Ji-li, the fact is that our family will not be able to pass these investigations,” he said slowly. “And you will not be allowed to be a member of a Liberation Army performing troupe.”
For a long time I did not speak. “Why?” I whispered at last.
He started to say something but stopped. He leaned forward again, and I could see the sorrow on his face. “It’s very complicated, and you wouldn’t understand it now even if I told you. Maybe we should wait until you’re grown up. The point is that I don’t think you’ll be admitted. So just drop it, all right?”
I did not say anything. Putting down the half-eaten bun, I walked to the mirror on the big wardrobe that divided the room and pressed my forehead against its cool surface. I could not hold back any longer. I burst out crying.
“I want to do it. I want to try. What will I tell Principal Long? And my classmates?” I wailed.
“Maybe we should let her try. She probably won’t be chosen anyway.” Grandma looked at Dad.
Dad stood up, heaving a deep sigh. “This is for her own good. Her classmates and teachers will just be surprised if she says that her father won’t let her go. But what if she passes the audition and can’t pass the political background investigation? Then everybody will know that the family has a political problem.” Dad’s voice grew louder and louder as he went on.
Ji-yong and Ji-yun were looking up at Dad, wide-eyed. I bit my lip to force myself to stop crying and went to bed without saying another word.
The hallway outside the principal’s office was very quiet. It was noon, and nearly everyone was home for lunch. The big red characters PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE made me nervous. I put my hand on the knob, hesitated, and lowered it. I walked back to the stairs, trembling and covered with sweat.
I rehearsed the words I was going to say one more time. Then I rushed back to the office door and pushed it open.
Principal Long was reading a newspaper. She raised her head and peered through her glasses to see who had interrupted her. “Principal Long, here is a note from my father.” Hastily I gave her the note, damp with sweat from my palm. I hurried out of the office before she could look at it or ask me any questions. I ran down the hallway, colliding with someone and running blindly on, thinking only that she must be very disappointed.
At one o’clock when the bell finally rang to start class, I heaved a long sigh and walked out of the library. My best friend, An Yi, and our homeroom teacher were standing outside the main building. As soon as they saw me, An Yi shouted, “Where have you been? Aren’t you supposed to go to the audition at one? Hurry up! You’re going to be late.”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word.
“Why, what’s wrong?” Teacher Gu asked.
“I… I’m not going.” I bowed my head and twisted my fingers in my red scarf.
“What? Are you crazy? This is the chance of a lifetime!”
I did not raise my head. I didn’t want to see An Yi’s face.
“Really? Why not?” Teacher Gu sounded concerned.
I tried hard not to cry. “Father wouldn’t let me….”
An Yi was about to say something else, but Teacher Gu cut her off. “All right. This is her family’s decision. We won’t talk about it any further.” She put her hand on my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze. Then she went away with An Yi without another word.
Across the yard I saw Principal Long, Wang Qi, and the two boys coming out of the gym. I dodged behind a tree and heard them chatting and laughing as they went by. They were going to the audition. I could have been going with them. My eyes blurred with tears.
I thought of the way Teacher Gu had looked at me. There had been a mixture of disappointment, doubt, and inquiry in her eyes. I was sure that Principal Long must have looked the same way after she read Dad’s note. So must Wang Qi, You Xiao-fan, and all my classmates.
I didn’t want to think any longer. I just wished that I could find a place to hide, so I wouldn’t have to see their faces.
Until that spring I believed that my life and my family were nearly perfect.
My father was a stage actor, six feet tall and slightly stoop shouldered. Because of his height and his serious face he usually played the villain at the children’s theater where he worked. He was the vicious landlord, the foolish king. But at home he was our humorous, kind, and wise Dad. He loved reading, and he loved including the whole family in his discoveries. He demonstrated the exercises of the great acting teacher Stanislavsky, he imitated Charlie Chaplin’s funny walk, and when he was reading about calculus, he explained Zeno’s paradox and the infinite series. We thought Dad knew everything.
Mom had been an actress when she met Dad, and she was still as pretty as an actress. When I was little, she stopped acting and worked in a sports-equipment store. Every evening we eagerly waited for her to come home from work. We rushed out to greet her and opened her handbag, where there was sure to be a treat for us. Mom spoiled us, Grandma said.
Grandma was truly amazing. She had graduated from a modern-style high school in 1914, a time when very few girls went to school at all. After Liberation she had helped to found Xin Er Primary School—my school—and become its vice-principal. She retired from teaching when I was born so that she could take care of me while Mom worked. But whenever we met her old students, now adults, they still bowed respectfully and called her Teacher Cao, which made me so proud.
Ji-yong was eleven, one year younger than me, and Ji-yun was one year younger than Ji-yong. Once Mom told me that she had her three children in three years because she wanted to finish the duty of having babies sooner, so she could devote herself wholeheartedly to the revolution. While I was tall and thin, like Dad, Ji-yong and Ji-yun were shorter and plumper, like Mom. Ji-yong was nicknamed Iron-Ball because he was dark skinned and sturdy. He liked to play in the alley and paid little attention to his studies. Ji-yun had two dimples, which gave her an especially sweet smile. She was easygoing and did not always strive to be the best, as I did. But I had learned that she could be very stubborn.
And then there was Song Po-po. She had originally been our nanny. When we grew up, she stayed and became our housekeeper. As long as I could remember, she had been living in the small room downstairs. She had raised the three of us, and we all felt she was like another grandmother. She was as dear to us as we were to her.
We lived in a big building in one of Shanghai’s nicer neighborhoods. My Fourth Aunt, who had been married to Dad’s half-brother, lived downstairs with her daughter, my cousin You-mei, and You-mei’s daughter, a lovely baby called Hua-hua. My uncle had died in Hong Kong a few years before. You-mei’s husband had a job in another city and was allowed to visit Shanghai only twice a year.
Song Po-po told us our extended family used to occupy two whole buildings, ten rooms all together. “Then they all moved away, and only your family and your Fourth Aunt’s family were left. Your family only has one room now. It’s just too bad.” She shook her head sadly.
But I didn’t feel that way at all. I loved our top-floor room. A huge French window and a high ceiling made it bright all year round, warmer during the winter and cooler in summer. The kitchen on the landing outside the room was small, but I didn’t mind. Our room was ten times as big as many of my classmates’ homes, and a hundred times brighter. Best of all, we had a private bathroom, a full-size room with a sink, a toilet, and a tub. It was almost as large as some families’ entire homes. Many did not have a bathroom at all, or even a flush toilet, and very few had a full-size bathroom that they did not have to share with other families.
My family was also special in another way.
Sometimes on Saturday evenings some of Dad’s colleagues would visit. They called these gatherings “Jiang’s salon.” I did not know what salon meant, but I loved them; they were wonderful parties. Mom would make her famous beef soup, and Grandma would make her steamed buns. We children would help Song Po-po polish the mahogany table and Grandma’s four prized red-and-gold dowry trunks until we could see our reflections in the wood and leather. When the guests arrived, we would greet them as “Uncle” and “Aunt” as a sign of respect and bring tea to each of them. Most of them were actors from Dad’s theater, and they were all talented. There was Uncle Zhu, a young actor who had excellent handwriting. Every time he came, he would take some time to help me with my calligraphy. There were Uncle Tian and Aunt Wu, so young and handsome and well dressed that the neighbors noticed every time they rolled up to our building on their new bicycles, and called them the “beautiful couple.” There was Uncle Fan, who had been Dad’s friend since college. When he arrived, the discussions immediately became more interesting. His enthusiasm about whatever movie or play he had seen recently was contagious. And there was Uncle Bao, a playwright, who smoked cigars and let me sit on his lap. Although he spoke less than the others, his comments were always worth waiting for.
Conversation flowed, so fascinating that we did not want to go to bed, no matter how late they stayed.
Until the audition I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
An Yi said that I seemed to have changed into a different person. Between classes I would avoid my classmates. After school I would stay in the library until it closed, just to elude the family’s overconcerned looks.
One time our cat, Little White, cut her leg deeply on a piece of glass. We all rushed to find bandages to bind up the wound, but Little White ran into the attic and hid there for days, licking her wounds by herself. Just like Little White, I wanted to be left alone.
None of the other three students passed the audition, but this did not make me feel better. It had not been just an audition for me. I was afraid that the rest of my life would not be what I had imagined.
I had had many beautiful dreams. I dreamed of being a doctor in a white coat, with a stethoscope dangling from my neck, saving lives one after another. I dreamed of being an architect, designing the most beautiful bridges in the world. I dreamed of being an actress, holding bunches of flowers, bowing again and again to answer curtain calls. Until now I had never doubted that I could achieve anything I wanted. The future had been full of infinite possibilities. Now I was no longer sure that was still true.
One afternoon, a week after the audition, I came home from school and saw a boy blowing big, splendid soap bubbles that shimmered with colors in the sunlight. One by one they drifted away and burst. In a few seconds they were all gone.
I thought about my beautiful dreams and wondered if they would drift away just like those lovely soap bubbles.