As for his fellow students, later some of them were sent back to Beijing to do underground work; others stayed in the countryside and became guerrilla fighters. It was the organization—the Party—that decided who went where and did what. Father and his comrades obeyed willingly, for they had vowed that they would “sacrifice the individual and obey the organization” when they joined the Party.
In addition to joining the Party, Father also abandoned his old name Zhichang, “blazing prosperity,” chosen by his grandfather together with the old man's surname. He created a new name for himself: Yu Shan, which means “at the mountains.”
For many years I thought Father did this because he was determined to make a clean break with his upper-class family and live as a new person after he joined the revolution. Only years later when my zeal for the revolution died down did it occur to me that by changing his name Father had also protected Nainai and others in the family who remained in Beijing. Or else he'd have gotten them into trouble with the Japanese and the Nationalists, for both considered the Communists their deadly enemies.
Actually, Father told me, it was really because of Nainai and my great-grandfather that he joined the revolution. The old man taught him to hate oppression. Day in and day out, he was the oppression incarnate in the family. When he bullied Nainai and others, it made Father's blood boil. Father vowed secretly that someday he would avenge the wrongs the tyrant did to everybody by tearing down his evil world and establishing a new one on its ruins. In this new world, no human being would be allowed to oppress other human beings. Nainai's life, Father thought, would be much easier and happier in it.
With such a dream, Father left home and went to the mountains. When he sneaked out, he did not tell Nainai where he was going. So for years Nainai thought that he was studying in the southwest just like Second Uncle and Third Aunt. This was a blessing for her. For had she known Father's real whereabouts, the raids made by the Japanese troops, the disease, and the hardships, she would have worried to death.
As for her life in Beijing in those years, I heard a story from her two old servants who refused to be liberated after Liberation.
Before Father left home, one day he planted a Chinese yam, called shanyao, in the courtyard. It was only a passing whim. Afterwards he forgot about it. Soon he left Beijing. A couple of weeks later, however, the yam sprouted. Nainai put an exquisite fence around it as soon as she saw it.
The Chinese yam was a perennial plant, usually grown by the peasants around their cottages. Nainai kept this yam in her garden among beautiful tree peonies and roses. Gradually, the tender vine of the yam crawled all over a Tai Lake rock.
In those years, Nainai must have been awfully lonely. She missed her children. Because of the war, no news came from any of them. When she became too anxious, she would go and talk to the yam.
Sometimes the plant listened to her in silence as if it understood her feelings but could find no word to comfort her. Sometimes there was a gentle breeze and the numerous heart-shaped green leaves fluttered. Nainai thought that the yam was whispering to her, telling her something about her children in a secret language, which with the love she had inside of her she could almost understand. It soothed Nainai's burning heart. She felt that as long as the yam thrived and she could hear it murmur, things could not go terribly wrong with her beloved children.
Nainai prayed day and night to heaven and to her ancestors, asking them to protect her children and to put an end to the war. In 1945 the Japanese surrendered. Second Uncle and Third Aunt came back to her. But it took Father another ten years to return home.
6
Second Uncle Was a Paper Tiger
When we returned from Switzerland in 1956, Nainai's dream came true. Finally the entire family was together, living in Nainai's big house. After my great-grandfather and grandfather died, Nainai was the head of the family.
Although I do not remember ever seeing Nainai read Lao Tzu, the way she ran our family was very much in keeping with the latter's teaching. According to the ancient philosopher, the best rulers ruled by non-action. That is to say, they let ten thousand things take their own courses; they did not impose their will on any of them. As a result, all were perfectly happy and the world was in harmony. Nainai seemed to have a profound understanding of this world order called Tao.
For example, at the house of Laolao (my maternal grandmother) there were numerous rules. During dinner, the way I held chopsticks was always wrong. I could not rest my elbows on the table. Other bad manners included speaking with food in my mouth and clinking chopsticks. I was to hold up my rice bowl throughout the meal. Water and other drinks were not allowed to go with the food. I had to wait till the end of the meal to drink the soup.
Rules like these made me reluctant to have dinner at Laolao's place. As a child, I could not have cared less if I missed the southern delicacies Laolao made that the adults said were so great. After all, didn't they say that freedom should be cherished above all things—food included, of course?
By contrast, freedom was in abundance at Nainai's place. There I could climb Tai Lake rocks if I wanted to or use a ladder to climb onto the walls to beat down red dates from the tall date trees. On the evening of the National Day (October 1), Little Ox, Little Dragon, and I were permitted to climb onto the tiled roof of Nainai's house, the tallest in the compound, to watch fireworks at Tian'anmen Square.
In the backyard there was an old locust tree. The branches of it spread out like a huge umbrella. On that evening it caught several brightly colored parachutes, each as large as a square scarf, with a whistle attached to it. They were carried here by the southwest wind from Tian'anmen Square. To me, they were like gifts from heaven. I was so thrilled that I refused to come down from the roof long after the fireworks were over, hoping that more parachutes would come this way. Such behavior annoyed my parents, but Nainai just smiled and said that I could stay there a little longer.
In Nainai's house I was truly happy. I had never been so happy before. In the past I was very lonely. Now I could play with Little Ox, Little Dragon, and other kids who were our neighbors. The gates of their houses stayed open during the day, and so did ours. Kids were welcome anytime. We could just drop in. In this environment I felt safe, and the nameless fear I had in Switzerland went away.
Occasionally my parents would be angry at me because I was too wild. When this happened, there was always someone in the big family who was willing to intercede for me. Most of the time I would turn to Nainai, knowing that she would shelter me like a big tree. Soon the menacing thunderstorm would change into gentle breeze and fine rain. Before long, all clouds would dissipate and sunshine would return to my world.
Nainai, although she was an old woman, was not old-fashioned in her way of thinking. For one thing, she was not biased against girls like other grandparents. On the contrary, I somehow had a feeling that she indulged me more than the boys. Looking back, I wonder if Nainai was following the unique Manchu tradition that said girls must be treated well at home, for in the future (I should say in the past) they all had a chance to be chosen into the palace. There if they found favor in the emperor's eyes, they could become imperial consorts. That way they would honor their ancestors and gain power and prestige for their families. Or else maybe Nainai was sympathetic toward me? From her own experience, she knew that a woman's life would not be easy in China. Many dangers, pitfalls, and heartaches were in store for me.
Saying this I do not mean that others were not happy in Nainai's house. All seemed to enjoy life in their own ways. The adults all worked, women as well as men. In the new society, it was a shame not to work if one was young, healthy, and educated. Those who lived on the old money of the family were called parasites. They were despised by everybody in spite of their money. Times had changed.
From Monday to