• Thirty-Nine •

When Yomei arrived at Heavenly Tavern Hospital in downtown Tianjin, her mother, suffering protracted tuberculosis, was in bad shape, hardly able to breathe. At age fifty-eight, she looked older, pallid, and emaciated. It was believed that her new acute condition had been precipitated partly by her youngest son’s death. In recent months, she’d gotten exhausted easily and couldn’t function like herself as before. After her hospitalization, her eldest son, Sun Yang, came to Tianjin to care for her for more than half a month, but he had to return to the Tsitsihar region, so Yomei’s arrival couldn’t be timelier. She and her brother looked after their mother together for two more days, then he went back to the northeast, where a large backlog of work was awaiting him.

On the small bedside table was a new book, an anthology of revolutionary poetry that contained two poems by Ren Rui, including “Seeing My Son Off to the Front.” Her son Yang had brought her the book, which she cherished so much that she often reached out for it. After Yang had left, her condition took a turn for the worse. At times, she murmured her daughters’ names, even though Yomei was sitting by her side. She also whispered “Ren Jun”—the name of her youngest sister, who had been attending the women’s conference in Beijing and would come see her soon.

Besides feeding her mother and helping her take pills, Yomei also changed her diapers and emptied her bedpan. In addition, she gave her a towel bath every morning. After the bath, at her mother’s request, Yomei would also dab floral perfume on her to counter the faint sour smell exuding from her. At times when she was awake and alert, Ren Rui looked shamefaced, seeing, her daughter cleaning her up. She said she shouldn’t have troubled Yomei like this, but her daughter shushed her, saying, “You must have done this thousands of times for me. Now it’s my turn to do the same for you. Mama, just relax and let me do the work.”

Ren Rui would breathe a sigh. She also asked Yomei about her adoptive parents, specifically whether Father Zhou was supportive of her future plan for a directing career. Yomei said, “He saw the play A False Alarm that we performed for the Central Committee at Shijiazhuang, and he liked it a lot. He urged me to direct more plays. But at the moment, things are hectic, and we are all busy working for the inauguration of the new republic. I guess that once things settle down some, there might be a new job for me. Everything will work out fine. Don’t worry.”

“You’re a smart girl and know how to navigate in treacherous circumstances. You must always stay close to the Zhous and insist to others that you’re their daughter. This is a way to protect yourself. Within the Party you must have powerful people’s support. On top of that, you’re almost twenty-eight. It’s time you found a man and got married. That can put me at ease. Do you already have someone in mind?”

“No, Mama. Don’t talk so much. You need more rest.”

“I’m worried about you, Yomei. Tell me, what kind of man do you like?”

“I don’t like officials or officers. I don’t want to have a powerful man who’s like a boss at home. That’s clear to me.”

“Why? You’ll need a strong shoulder to lean on, won’t you?”

“I’m more interested in art, not in power.”

Her mother sighed and closed her eyes, one of her sunken cheeks, the right one, twitching a little. She said in a half whisper, “Keep in mind, an artist needs the endorsement of an organization, and it’s hard to survive on your own.”

“You mean without the auspices of the Party an artist can’t accomplish anything?”

“Right. So don’t let your artistic pursuit mislead you into a blind alley.”

“I’ll remember what you said, Mama.” In spite of saying that, she didn’t totally agree with her mother. What about Gogol or Chekhov or Ibsen or Goldoni? she wondered. Even Stanislavski didn’t belong to any political organization and identified himself only as a director and actor—a theater artist. There must be artistic work undefined or confined by politics. It was common sense that arts could transcend political power and operate in a different orbit. If those great artists could exist in Russia and other countries, there must be some space in China where genuine artists could work and thrive. But she didn’t want to counter her mother overtly. At the moment, Ren Rui needed to recuperate enough to leave the hospital soon. What was urgent was that Yomei must figure out a way to look after her mother once she was discharged from the hospital. If she herself wasn’t always available, she’d have to find proper care for her mother.

Her aunt arrived the next morning, but Ren Rui’s condition had just turned critical, as if she’d been doing her utmost to wait to see her youngest sister Ren Jun. When they finally met, Rui seized hold of Jun’s hand while tears spilled out of her eyes. Then Jun buried her face in the quilt over Rui’s abdomen and broke out sobbing, twitching her shoulders. She said Rui must get well soon now that they were finally about to establish their new country—it was time to rejoice and celebrate the victory. But with staggered breath and a faint whistle in her lungs, her elder sister said, “I might not be lucky enough to enjoy our new life. You and Yomei must take care of each other and also let our old dad know I won’t be able to serve him anymore, but I will look after him in the next life.”

Jun cried so hard that her arched back began convulsing. Among their siblings she was particularly close to Rui, having lived with her for so many years, and it was Rui who had taken her to Yan’an, where Jun had joined the revolution, attending the arts academy and performing in a drama troupe. What’s more, Jun was only one year older than Yomei, and they used to study and play together and even sleep in the same bed. The two of them also entered the same troupe in Shanghai together to learn how to act. As a result, they were like sisters, even if Yomei always called Jun “Sixth Aunt,” so Rui had been like a mother to her youngest sister Jun as well.

Left to right: Ren Rui, Yomei, and Ren Jun

Ren Rui stopped breathing the next day. Numerous officials from Tianjin municipality, including the newly appointed mayor, came to bid farewell to her, since she was well respected in the Party. Yomei cabled the Zhous about her mother’s passing, and right away it was arranged that Ren Rui was to be interred in Beijing, the prospective capital, even though the CCP had not yet designated its own official burial site for its martyrs and distinguished deceased comrades (such as the well-known revolutionary cemetery at Babao Hill later on). Her body was put on a train to Beijing, where a memorial service was to be held in her honor. Then she’d be buried in Peace for Everyone, a public cemetery. Yomei and Jun and some others accompanied the casket on the train, all wearing a black armband and a white paper flower on their chest.

At the funeral the next afternoon, Lily’s father Lin Bochü delivered a short speech, praising Ren Rui as a dedicated fighter for the socialist cause and for the establishment of the new China. He felt honored to have been her longtime friend and to have worked with her for many years in Yan’an. He said, “She was a model wife and a great mother figure to many young people around her. After her husband was murdered by the Nationalists twenty-two years ago, she raised her four children alone, moving around to escape persecutions from the reactionaries. She taught the youngsters progressive ideas and compassionate attitudes, and she never stopped writing for periodicals in support of our struggle. She was a devoted educator whose passing is a great loss to us and to our Party. We all will miss her sorely and hold her dearly in our hearts as a beam of light and as an example of selfless dedication. Dear Comrade Ren Rui, may you rest in peace!”

Zhou Enlai, representing the CCP, inscribed the tombstone to acknowledge her as a revolutionary martyr. The following day, The People’s Daily reported her passing and the solemn occasion of her memorial service and burial. It also stated that more than forty dignitaries had attended her funeral.