September 9, 1976
\nIt begins with a death. Thousands of people mourn. Thousands of people celebrate. Hundreds of thousands of people precede him to the grave—a grave he dug for them in China’s sacred soil.
\n• • •
\nFor Chen Wen-shan, the day began normally with a breakfast of cornflakes and a scowl from her great-uncle. But at school, things changed. Her friend Song Li-ying was absent, which had never happened in their school years together, and her teacher Mrs. Yang broke one of her own classroom rules by looking at the clock every five minutes. And at three o’clock, the school’s intercom system came screeching to life, interrupting the physics lesson. The principal’s voice, normally brusque and strong, hesitated. “Word—word has reached Hong Kong that just after midnight last night, the Chairman of China, Mao Tse-tung—died.”
\nSnap. The intercom went off.
\nWen-shan sat very still, her hand pressed flat on her work papers. No one moved or made a sound. All eyes were on Mrs. Yang as though she would explain everything.
\nMao Tse-tung is dead? What does that mean?
\nSomeone’s pencil rolled off their desk and clinked onto the linoleum floor. The teacher’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The intercom scratched to life again and everyone jumped—even Mrs. Yang.
\n“School will close early today. Classes cancelled.”
\nSnap. The intercom went off.
\nOne young man stood abruptly and left the classroom, forgetting his books and his jacket.
\nWen-shan looked around and saw mass movement as her classmates stood. She stood with them. She gathered her books and papers into her schoolbag. Mrs. Yang stared at her watch and Wen-shan could see her jaw working to control her emotions. No one spoke to the teacher as they exited.
\nWen-shan reached the outside of the school and ran. Eight blocks to her house and she ran all the way. As she neared home, she saw Song Li-ying framed by the half-moon arch of the courtyard wall. She stood by the front gate, waving a paper. She didn’t talk or call out, only waved her paper.
\n“Li Li, what is it?”
\nThe paper waved again.
\nWen-shan stopped to open the gate, but Li-ying shoved the note forward—a section ripped from the paper. Wen-shan read it.
\n“Yes, I know. Chairman Mao is dead. They told us at school.”
\nHer friend blinked as though the sun was too bright. “The Stone Boy is dead,” she whispered.
\nWen-shan’s heart beat faster. The Stone Boy is dead.
\n“Where were you today?” Wen-shan asked as she shoved open the gate. The girls moved into the courtyard.
\n“Father found out the news early this morning. He thought it safer if I stayed home.”
\nWen-shan glanced to the bungalows on the left and right of the yard, but none of her neighbors seemed to be home. She continued down the curving path to the bungalow she shared with her great-uncle. She knew he wouldn’t be home. He was at the furniture store taking care of things for the British owner.
\nWen-shan moved up the steps to the small porch and unlocked the front door. Li-ying hesitated on the landing. “Come in, Li Li. He’s not here to frighten you.”
\nThe girls removed their shoes and entered the cool interior of the house. It was dim and smelled lightly of sandalwood incense. Wen-shan put her schoolbag in her room and went to the kitchen for a snack. She found almond cookies, took a handful, and gave three to Li-ying.
\n“I think we should go down to the main street and see what’s happening.”
\nLi-ying agreed and the two girls ran several blocks to the main street. They saw many people talking excitedly together—some were crying, some pressing hands to their heads in prayer and looking at the sky. There were firecrackers everywhere. Long red ropes of firecrackers hung from third-story balconies, popping and cracking, the fire climbing the bundles like a ladder. The noise was terrible and wonderful. The smoke rose, explosions shredding the delicate red paper. The friends tried to catch the paper as it floated lazily through the air, landing on the heads of the celebrators, the taxi cycles, and the rough street. So much paper. The little children kicked it into great piles.
\n“Wen-shan, look at that!”
\nWen-shan followed her friend’s gaze. Mrs. Wong, from the Golden Door Bakery, was handing out good-fortune buns. The two raced to stand in line.
\n“All Hong Kong is full of joy today!” Mrs. Wong cried as she held out the steaming basket. “Take one! No charge.”
\nLi-ying and Wen-shan looked at each other with wide eyes. This must be a spectacular day. Mrs. Wong had never given away any of her bakery goods for free. Wen-shan remembered that her friend Jun-jai always called Mrs. Wong “the crafty businesswoman.” “Ah, that Mrs. Wong—she could sell fish to the mermaids.” That was what he always said.
\nWen-shan shoved the soft steamed bun into her mouth and hummed with delight as she tasted the sweet filling. Just as she was reaching for another bun, she saw the tall, lanky body of her friend Wei Jun-jai moving down the street. He held his transistor radio to his ear.
\nWen-shan grabbed Li-ying’s hand. “Come on! Let’s catch up to Jun-jai. He might have news.”
\nFirecrackers popped at their feet, and they squealed with delight.
\n“Jun-jai! Stop! Wait for us!”
\nJun-jai turned his head from side to side as though he had heard his name, but with all the noise he couldn’t be sure. He shrugged and continued his travels. Wen-shan shoved past several people to catch him.
\n“Hey!” a man in a business suit complained. “Hey, little chubby girl, stop trying to push people out of your way.”
\nWen-shan grew sullen at his words. “Stop being a Capitalist Roader!” she yelled back at him as she headed for the intersection where Jun-jai had stopped.
\nThe man spat out a rude remark, and Li-ying grabbed Wen-shan’s arm. “Wen-shan, you must not say terrible things like that to people.”
\n“Well, he said a terrible thing to me.”
\n“But you are only fifteen. You must be respectful of your elders.”
\n“Old-school thinking.”
\nLi-ying stopped; her beautiful dark eyes were full of anger. “Not old-school thinking. I have been taught manners, that’s all.”
\n“Jun-jai!” Wen-shan called again. “Wait!” She started forward. “Hurry, we’re losing him!”
\n“I don’t care. I’m going home.” Li-ying turned away.
\nWen-shan swallowed her pride. It slid down her throat like bitter gingerroot. “Wait! Wait! I’m sorry. Really, I am. It’s just that he called me a chubby girl. It made me angry. You don’t know what that feels like. You are like a willow branch.”
\nLi-ying glared at her. “Yes, but I get insulted too, for my glasses and my crooked teeth. Does that mean I have to call my tormentors terrible Communist names?”
\n“Well, I . . .”
\n“Especially on a day like today?”
\n“Hey! Wen-shan. Li-ying. Were you calling me?” Jun-jai waved as he walked forward. He maneuvered around two elders who were arguing about the day’s events.
\nWen-shan waved back. “Yes. We didn’t think you heard us.” She thought Jun-jai looked very hip in his American-cut pants and white buttoned shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up, and she thought that his wristwatch made him seem older than sixteen—more like eighteen. She was glad they had been friends since childhood, because if they met today, she doubted he would have even given her a glance.
\nAs he approached, Li-ying tried to hide behind her friend. Wen-shan pulled her to her side. They smiled at Jun-jai.
\n“We wondered if you’ve heard any more news about Chairman Mao’s death. Do we know what he died of?”
\nLi-ying shook her head. “Wen-shan, how can you talk about death so offhandedly?”
\n“That’s not offhanded. That’s practical.”
\nJun-jai turned off his radio. “Not much news. All we know for sure is that he’s gone to meet his ancestors.”
\n“I wonder what they will think of him?” Wen-shan’s attention was diverted by the harsh words between the two elders. “What’s their problem?”
\nJun-jai turned to listen. “The one is saying the celebrations are too dangerous. There are many communists in the city who will cause problems.” He turned back. “Like the agitation in ’67.”
\nWen-shan snorted. “Hong Kong is not their domain.”
\nLi-ying grimaced.
\n“Ah! Li-ying, you of all people should be glad the Stone Boy is dead. Wasn’t your family run out of China because of him?”
\nJun-jai spoke up. “‘Ching Duke of Ch’i had a thousand teams of horses; but the people, on his death day, found nought in him to praise.’”
\nWen-shan laughed at Jun-jai, and he laughed with her. “Ah! Jun-jai, the great student of Confucius!”
\nThe tension was broken and a smile brushed the corner of Li-ying’s mouth. “Just like your uncle, Wen-shan. He is also a great student of Confucius, yes?”
\nWen-shan stopped laughing. A car sped by, and she watched it, pretending not to have heard.
\n“How is your uncle?” Jun-jai asked.
\nWen-shan cleared her throat to blunt her irritation. “Fine, I suppose. I don’t talk to him much.”
\n“I always like talking to him. He is very wise.”
\n“Hmm. A wise man who never speaks.” She watched another car pass. “So, where were you going, Jun-jai?”
\n“To my auntie’s. She is having a big dinner to celebrate. Would you like to come?” He looked at Li-ying. “You’re invited too.”
\n“Oh . . . oh, very kind of you, Wei Jun-jai,” Li-ying stammered, “but I must return soon to my home. We also are having a family dinner to celebrate.”
\nHe nodded and looked back at Wen-shan. “Does your uncle expect you?”
\nShe chose her words carefully. “I don’t believe so. He is visiting at the home of his British friend. He probably won’t be home until late.”
\n“Then, if you’d like, come with me. You can telephone him from my auntie’s house.”
\n“I will not be imposing on your auntie’s generosity?”
\n“No, of course not, especially not on a special day like today.”
\nAt that moment Wen-shan was not jealous of Song Li-ying and her large family. At that moment she was glad for her old uncle who rarely talked to her except to quote Confucius or some odd Christian scripture. She bowed her head several times. “I would be greatly honored to come to the dinner. Thank you for inviting me, Jun-jai.”
\nFirecrackers crackled nearby, and the girls squealed and jumped. They laughed and clapped their hands with excitement, thinking that September 9 was a very good day.
\nLi-ying took her friend’s hand. “I must be going now. I have to stop at the market and buy lychees for my grandfather.”
\n“Good fortune to your family,” Jun-jai said. He bowed, and Li-ying bowed quickly to cover her blushing face.
\n“Good fortune to your family,” she replied. She smiled at Wen-shan. “Have a good time.”
\n“Yes, I will. My heart celebrates with all Hong Kong.”
\n“And Taiwan,” Li-ying said. “The national flag must be flying high.”
\nWen-shan nodded. “Yes, and no black armbands like on the day Chiang Kai-shek died.”
\n“Don’t be so sure,” Jun-jai interjected. “People will wear them out of show if nothing else, and some will truly mourn. They have chanted Chairman Mao’s name for a long time.”
\nWen-shan shrugged. “Well, you may be right. I don’t know that much about it. I just know that I want to celebrate.”
\n“Yes, we should be on our way,” Jun-jai encouraged.
\nThey waved to Li-ying as she moved off into the crowd.
\nWen-shan smiled with satisfaction. An entire afternoon with her friend Jun-jai, eating good food and celebrating with other happy people. For a moment her conscience twisted as she thought of her old uncle, but he was busy at the furniture store and would not miss her. He never missed her.
\n• • •
\nAuntie Ting was a bundle of energy, scurrying from kitchen to table as she set out bowls of noodles, plates of vegetables, steamed buns, heaping bowls of rice, platters of sweet glazed chicken, deep-fried fish, and spicy pork knuckles. There were a lucky thirteen people at her table and she beamed at each one as though she hadn’t just spent the day cooking. Wen-shan liked her face.
\n“Welcome! Welcome!” Auntie Ting said on a sigh as she plopped dramatically into her chair. “So glad you could all be here, and so glad for Jun-jai’s friend, Chen Wen-shan, to join us.” Wen-shan blushed. “She makes number thirteen at our table. Lucky thirteen!”
\nThe old auntie sitting to Wen-shan’s right turned to stare and smile, and Wen-shan tried not to notice the gaps where her teeth should have been.
\n“Are we lucky or is she lucky?” the old auntie asked as she raised her eyebrows at Jun-jai.
\nWen-shan’s embarrassment was interrupted by someone passing her a platter of bok choy. At Auntie Ting’s insistence, she filled her bowl with all the delicious food and was content to eat and listen instead of joining in on any of the conversations. Jun-jai and his brother were talking about President Nixon’s visit to China in 1972—both agreeing that Nixon had been a pawn in the hand of Mao Tse-tung. Auntie Ting complained about the cost of meat. The toothless auntie on Wen-shan’s right was telling ghost stories to a young nephew, and despite her age, the auntie’s voice was rich and expressive, and Wen-shan was captivated. The woman finished one story about a man sleeping on the bones of a skeleton and turned to catch Wen-shan listening.
\n“Did you like that?”
\nWen-shan nodded.
\n“I can tell you one about an emperor and some angry peasants, if you’d like.”
\n“Yes, please,” Wen-shan and the nephew said together.
\nThe auntie took a drink of tea and began. “Emperor Chan Lee was taking a trip to the province of Guangxi. He rode on his strong black horse and had many fierce guards behind him.”
\nWhen Wen-shan heard the words province of Guangxi, her stomach clenched. Guilin, in the province of Guangxi, was her birthplace and the source of many of her nightmares. She tried to concentrate on other things, but the old woman’s voice wrapped the story in such mystery that Wen-shan could not stop listening.
\n“Chan Lee was a ruthless emperor, and many innocent people died from his sword and because of his evil programs. As Chan Lee rode along, the Spirit Wind came and whispered in his ear to turn back. The Spirit Wind warned him that many people stood waiting for him on the Hundred Flower Bridge. They were going to take revenge for the wrongs Chan Lee had done to their families.
\n“Chan Lee laughed at the words of the Spirit Wind. He raised his sword high in the morning light. ‘I have killed many strong men with my sword, and I have my fierce guards behind me,’ he said. ‘Do you think I fear a few starving peasants?’ He rode on through the mountain pass. The path grew shadowed as the sun hid its face behind the high peaks.
\n“The Spirit Wind now came howling through the pass, shouting into Chan Lee’s ears to turn back! The Spirit Wind warned him that there were even more people waiting for him on the Hundred Flower Bridge and that the river below was dark and angry. Chan Lee lost his temper and slashed at the Spirit Wind with his sword. ‘Leave me alone, you cursed spirit! I am the great Emperor Chan Lee! I have a fierce guard behind me! I have a mighty sword. I would not fear a thousand starving peasants!’
\n“Immediately the cold Spirit Wind was gone, and in its place a thick gray fog swirled. Chan Lee moved forward, but his fierce guards hesitated. ‘I command you onward, you cowards!’ Chan Lee snapped as he plunged into the fog. His strong black horse squealed with fear and threw Chan Lee from his back. The emperor’s fierce guards ran away. Chan Lee was swallowed by the fog, where he wandered alone for many hours, muttering and cursing his men. He vowed that he would hang them all when he returned to the palace.”
\nWen-shan became aware that all other conversations had stopped as everyone turned their attention to the auntie’s story.
\n“Finally, the Hundred Flower Bridge appeared before him, and a thousand ragged peasants stood at its threshold. The Emperor Chan Lee drew his sword. A poor man stepped forward. ‘You do not frighten us, Chan Lee.’ He moved forward again and the others followed.
\n“‘You had better fear me!’ yelled Chan Lee. ‘I am the great Emperor Chan Lee, and I have a terrible sword.’
\n“The crowd pushed forward. Chan Lee stumbled back toward the river. ‘Come any closer and you will feel the sharp edge of my sword,’ he warned.
\n“A woman rushed toward him, and Chan Lee swung his heavy sword and sliced through her neck, but her head did not leave her body, and the woman laughed. ‘You cannot kill me twice, Chan Lee. I am Nu Gui, and I have a fierce army behind me! Here is Yuan Gui, and You Hun Ye Gui, and Diao Si Gui, and we have fingers of ice.’
\n“The great emperor screamed in terror as he swung his sword through the bodies of mist. The ghost army advanced, forcing Chan Lee into the dark river. Now he felt the clammy hands of Shui Gui dragging him into the pitiless depths. Chan Lee drank the black water of death, and his great sword fell from his hand and sank into the mud. Nu Gui stood alone by the now-peaceful river. She sang a song of home as she disappeared into the morning sunlight.”
\nThe old auntie looked around solemnly at the listeners, and then a slow smile touched her mouth. Jun-jai started the applause and everyone joined in immediately. Jun-jai leaned over to whisper in Wen-shan’s ear, “She is very wise, that one.”
\n“Why?” Wen-shan questioned.
\n“Did you think that story was really about the imaginary Emperor Chan Lee?”
\nWen-shan didn’t know what he was talking about, but she didn’t want to appear stupid, so she just nodded her head and said, “Ah, she is quite wise. Tell me more.”
\n“Well, she certainly knows how to tell two stories at once. Cruel leaders will one day have to answer for their crimes, no matter how well they think they can swim.”
\n“What does that mean?”
\nBut Jun-jai could not finish his explanation because he was interrupted by his brother standing to leave. Many family members stood to make their polite farewells, and Wen-shan stood with them. Auntie Ting brought Wen-shan her sweater and gave her a bag of almond cookies. “For your walk home.”
\nWen-shan took the crisp white bag and bowed several times. “Thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of the celebration.”
\n“Oh, most welcome. Lucky thirteen!”
\nWen-shan smiled. “You are a very excellent cook.”
\n“Ah, that? Just a little family get-together.”
\nJun-jai walked up to give his auntie a hug. “Yes, you should see this home during a festival—there is no room to move.”
\nAuntie Ting slapped his arm. “Ah! You are so American with your teasing.”
\n“Thank you for the compliment, Auntie.”
\nWen-shan bowed to Jun-jai. “And thank you, Jun-jai, for inviting me to dinner.”
\nAuntie Ting opened the door, and Wen-shan moved out into the narrow apartment hallway.
\n“Should Jun-jai go with you?” Auntie Ting questioned. “It is getting dark.”
\n“Oh, no, I’ll be fine. I walk around at night by myself all the time.” Auntie Ting gave her a questioning look. “Really, I’ll be fine. There will be many people out tonight.” Wen-shan walked off down the hallway with the crisp paper of her cookie bag crackling with each step.
\nWhen she stepped out onto the street, she turned to the west to find the sun had already set. A moist, cool wind brushed against her neck and made her shiver.
\n“I have only half a mile to home,” she told herself.
\nShe walked fast, but the ghosts of Nu Gui and Shui Gui floated along behind her. It was almost dark when she saw the wall of her courtyard. She gave a small chirp of gladness and ran. Her almond cookies might have turned to dust, but she didn’t care. She reached the gate, threw it open, and ran through the garden. There was light coming from the front window, so she knew the door would be unlocked.
\nShe flew out of her shoes and yanked open the door. Taking big gulps of air, she quickly closed the door and laid her head against the wood.
\n“Wen-shan?”
\nHer great-uncle’s voice made her jump.
\nHe was coming from his room to scold her.
\nShe went quickly to her room, stripping the picture of Zhong Kui, the vanquisher of ghosts, from the wall as she went. “I’m fine, Uncle,” she called. “I have just returned from the dinner with Wei Jun-jai’s family. I’m very tired. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” She knew it was improper not to report in, but she was tired.
\nHer bedroom door shut as his opened.
\nAh, no scolding tonight.
\nNotes
\nA brief history of Hong Kong: In the 1700s, the British East India Trading Company traded goods with China. One of the more profitable items traded was opium. British merchants controlled many of China’s port cities. There was a war between China and Britain over the opium trade. Britain prevailed, and in 1842, Hong Kong (which means fragrant harbor) became a colony of the British Empire. First contained to Hong Kong Island, the colony’s boundaries were eventually extended to include the Kowloon Peninsula and the New Territories in 1898.
\nChinese naming system: The last name is written first, followed by the generational name and then the given name. Mao’s two-part name consists of Tse, which means “to shine on” and tung, which means “the East.”
\nStone Boy: In order to not tempt fate with too grand a name, peasant mothers often gave their children a rough, or common, name. Such was the case for Mao Tse-tung. His rough name was Shisan yazi or “Boy of Stone.”
\nSeptember 9, 1976: The death date of Mao Tse-tung.
\nCapitalist Roader: Anyone thought to lean toward capitalism, or be on the capitalist road, was called this derogatory name.
\nConfucius: Born in 551 bc on the Shantung peninsula of China, Confucius was China’s first professional teacher and moral philosopher, and is known today as Asia’s greatest moral and social thinker. Many of his thoughts and teachings were collected in a booklet known as the Analects.
\nChiang Kai-shek: Born in 1887 in the Zhejiang province, China, Chiang was a professional military man and a Nationalist chief of staff. He was anti-Soviet and deeply averse to the Soviet socialist dogma of class struggle (dividing society into classes and making them fight each other). In 1927, he became Chairman of the Nationalist Party. He fled to Taiwan when the Communists took over in 1949. He continued to rule the Nationalist Party until his death on April 5, 1975.
\nGhost stories: Ghosts play a substantial role in Chinese culture. Ghosts take many forms depending on the way in which the person died. The term for ghost is Gui (pronounced Gweye).
\nQweilo: White ghost. Sometimes a person of Caucasian descent is called a qweilo or “white man.”
\nNu Gui: The ghost of a woman who had committed suicide due to some injustice.
\nYuan Gui: The ghost of someone who died a wrongful death.
\nYou Hun Ye Gui: A wandering ghost of someone who died far away from his home or family.
\nDiao Si Gui: The ghost of someone who had been hanged.
\nShui Gui: The spirit of someone who drowned and continues living in the water.
\nZhong Kui: The vanquisher of ghosts and evil beings. Portraits of him are hung in Chinese houses to scare away evil spirits and demons.
\nGhost dramas: An ancient dramatic genre which is characterized by tales of revenge by dead victims’ spirits on those who had persecuted them. In China, there is a strong tradition of using historical allusion to voice opposition. In 1963, Mao banned all ghost dramas. To him, those ghost avengers were uncomfortably close to the class enemies who had perished under his rule.
\nThe old auntie’s ghost story includes many inferences to Mao Tse-tung. The Hundred Flower Bridge is a reference to one of Mao’s campaigns that he called “Let a Hundred Flowers Bloom.” Party leaders and intellectuals were supposed to express their opinions about communism and Chairman Mao’s leadership, but in truth, it was a means for Mao to uncover and silence dissidents. The fact that Emperor Chan Lee drowns in the story is telling because Mao Tse-tung prided himself on being a strong swimmer. And the thousand avenging ghosts in the story represent a fraction of the millions of people who perished under Mao’s rule.
\n\tSeptember 9, 1976
It begins with a death. Thousands of people mourn. Thousands of people celebrate. Hundreds of...
![\"Horz_line\"](\"http://cdn2.deseretbook.com/assets/horz_line-0ab467abbb4056887a86d9853d23abcb.gif\")
Wen-shan dressed in her school uniform and went to eat her breakfast of cornflakes. Her uncle was not in the house. She looked out the front...