The first weekend of September, Yomei and Lily went to their little piece of land to gather the potatoes they had planted. For months they’d done nothing about the crop, but they were now amazed to see the abundant yield. They dug around the plants with a small spade and let the spuds dry in the sun before they put them into cloth sacks. They were excited to see such a bumper crop, which felt like a godsend. The Russian soil was so rich that you could practically plant any crop into it and let it grow by itself. It was so different from back in China, where you at least had to water the seedlings to keep them from withering. That afternoon, they carried back two bags of potatoes, each about sixty pounds, which kept them fed for three months.
With Lily working more hours at the broadcasting station, there was enough food for both of them. They were like two birds in one nest, sharing everything. With the heads of their beds adjoining, they chatted at length every night before going to sleep. Lily confessed that Young Zeng, the man with shifty round eyes who was formerly in charge of the section of Chinese archives at the Comintern and was now working for the Department of Internal Affairs of the USSR, often turned up at the broadcasting station to see her. Apparently he was eager to get close to her, probably wanting to start a relationship. “What do you think of Zeng?” she asked Yomei in the darkness one night.
“Well, it depends on whether you like him. Do you?”
“I don’t know. He’s a little slippery. Every time we meet, he’ll say something bad about others, as if he has inside information on everyone. I can’t trust him.”
“Did he bad-mouth me?”
“Not really. He just said you looked down on him.”
“I’ll try to be good to him if you go with him. But doesn’t he look handsome to you? He has a strong build.”
“He looks fine, but he’s full of airs and always tries to show how consequential he is. I often wonder what can justify his kind of insolence. Honestly, lots of men give me the creeps. I still can’t forget the woman dumped into the sea by the drunk from the steamer I was taking with my mom.”
“That was long ago. You were just a toddler then.”
“But I can’t get it out of my head. How about you? Have you heard from Lucas?”
“No,” Yomei said matter-of-factly. “I don’t take him as a boyfriend, so I don’t expect to hear from him. I’m wondering what has happened to Reslie, though. He promised to write to me, but I haven’t heard from him.”
“So he’s your boyfriend?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but we share the same passion for theater. He was a fine actor and should have a bright future if he stays in the field.”
“You know anything can happen on the front. Also, letters go astray easily nowadays.”
“I hope he’s all right,” Yomei said in a half whisper.
That weekend she wrote to Reslie’s parents in Kansk and asked about their son. She just said she was a fellow student of his, using the common term “comrade” and not wanting to give the impression that she was his girlfriend. She wrote: “All his friends at the theater school are concerned, because none of us has heard from him after he left. Please share the news about him if you have any.”
Soon they wrote back, saying they hadn’t heard from Reslie directly either, but three months earlier they’d been informed that their son was injured in an air attack by the Germans. He was sent to some field hospital, then no word about him came anymore. They had made inquiries with the military and were told that Reslie was classified as missing in action.
This news upset Yomei and others who knew Reslie, including Gorchakov. The professor kept saying Reslie was quick on the uptake and could have become an excellent director if he had continued to study at the theater institute. “This damned war has destroyed so many young talents!” said Gorchakov.
To Yomei’s surprise, toward the end of 1943 she heard from Lin Biao from Yan’an. He wrote that he’d gotten married in the summer and that his bride was Yeh Qun, whom Yomei might know since they both had attended the Counter-Japanese Military and Political University at the same time years back. Honestly, Lin Biao wrote, he hadn’t planned to marry at all, but his friends and colleagues in Yan’an had all urged him to form a family without further delay so that he could concentrate on work and military operations. That was how this marriage had taken place. He didn’t say whether he loved his new wife, and was just writing to inform Yomei of his current marital status. He also mentioned that he still remembered her fondly and thanked her for the wonderful time he had spent with her in Moscow.
His letter puzzled Yomei in some way. She showed it to Lily, who chuckled after reading it. Lily said, “Do you know Lin Biao’s bride?”
“Not really. I don’t remember her at all. But her name sounds familiar.”
“He seems unable to forget you. This means you can still bewitch him.”
“Come now, he’s more like an uncle, fourteen years older than me.”
“Any young woman can fall for him easily. He’s a top commander in the Red Army, also the youngest.”
“Why did he tell me he was married?” Yomei mused out loud.
“Didn’t he promise to wait for you? Now he broke his word, so he asked for your forgiveness.”
“He doesn’t sound apologetic at all.”
“He doesn’t need to. He means to tell you not to wait for him anymore. He’s decent in this regard.”
“Truth to tell, I’ve never waited for him. I didn’t take him as a boyfriend or fiancé.”
“But from his perspective, you might have been waiting for him.”
“I can’t see why he was so self-assured.”
“He’s remarkable. One of the most capable generals in the Red Army. How many women can resist that?”
“You sound like you might be interested in him.” Yomei smiled, narrowing her eyes.
“You know I like capable men. For me, a man’s looks don’t mean much. It’s the inner strength that matters.”
“But shouldn’t a man be attractive to you first? There’re distinguished men I know personally, but I can think of them at most as friends. As a woman, I can’t be attracted to them.”
“To be honest, I prefer to become single if I can’t find an outstanding man.” Lily let out a sigh.
“But isn’t a man like Lin Biao outstanding? Would you marry him if he proposed?”
“Well, honestly, Yomei, I’m not sure if I could refuse. Any girl would feel greatly honored to be with a legendary man like him. You’re luckier than others, you know?”
“I wish I were attracted to him, but we don’t live in legends. I just can’t love him like a woman ought to love a man. You know what I mean.”
“Of course I know. You mean you can’t go to bed with him, but look at our mothers and all the aunties. How many of them got married for love? A lot of them were assigned by the Party to form a union with a man chosen for them.”
“I wish I could be like them, but I just can’t do that. I have to be faithful to my own heart.”
“You’re the only Chinese woman I know who thinks this way.”
“So I’m an odd one?”
“In a manner of speaking, you are. Perhaps to our compatriots, we’re all oddities. When we’re back in our country, I’m sure many Chinese might peg us as foreign girls, also as social cripples.”
“Probably you’re right.”
Yomei wrote back to Lin Biao to congratulate him on his new marriage and briefly described her situation in Moscow, saying that she and Lily were like sisters now and helped each other manage their life and work and studies here, and that she was going to go back to China in two or three years.