Pearl of China (24 page)

C
HAPTER
33

Overnight, the “Down with American Imperialists” slogans were replaced with “Welcome American President Nixon.” Mannequins dressed in U.S. Army uniforms for military bayonet practice at schools nationwide were removed. Children were instructed to learn the English phrases “Welcome” and “How do you do?”

The day Nixon arrived in China, children filled the streets from the airport to the hotel where the president would stay. Each child was given paper flowers and instructed to smile with their teeth showing.

Carpenter Chan received an urgent dispatch that Nixon was to visit Chin-kiang, and that Pearl Buck was with him.

The town vibrated with anticipation.

I so wished that Papa could have lived to see this day. It would have thrilled him to greet the American president—but even more, the daughter of his beloved Absalom.

The guerrilla-church members counted the hours and then the minutes. In the morning, state police came to secure the town. Everyone was ordered to stay inside until called. While the men exchanged news and information, the women began to prepare Pearl’s favorite foods. Every family contributed. We soaked rice and soybeans, steamed bread and yams, and brought out all the pickled radishes and dried meats, which were usually saved for New Year’s. The sound of chopping vegetables lasted all day, and the smell of roasting garlic peanuts filled the air. “Pearl will smell our cooking miles away when she arrives,” Lilac said.

When I heard the sound of drums and the music of China’s national anthem, I knew the American guests were here. I rinsed my hands, combed my hair, and slipped on my blue Mao jacket. Rouge wanted to join me but her boss wouldn’t give her permission. As Dick’s daughter, she was ill-treated.

I was nervous and tense. My doubts had grown when my friend’s face had failed to appear in newspapers. There were photos of Mao and Nixon shaking hands. And Madame Mao, her big, wide mouth smiling like a white sailboat. But no Pearl. Was I foolish to believe that she would be allowed to come?

“Is Pearl with Nixon or isn’t she?” I kept asking Carpenter Chan.

“I don’t know” was Chan’s reply.

I had been more than living for this moment. To me, it was as if my life depended on it. Now I was afraid. I imagined what Madame Mao might have done to keep Pearl out of China. Dick’s fate reminded me not to underestimate her power.

Yet I couldn’t stop hoping. I rose before dawn to climb the rolling hills. When I reached the top of a favorite hill where Pearl and I used to play, I lay on the grass and closed my eyes. The scent of jasmine drifted from below and brought back memories. I could see my friend’s clear blue eyes. She looked at me without speaking.

My tears welled up at the thought that we would be like two strangers. She might not even recognize me. Maybe she had simply forgotten me. But no, another voice spoke inside my head. “You will always be able to recognize each other.” We would pick up where we had left off. I would satisfy her every curiosity about China.

“Tell me how you followed Dick and what happened,” my friend would say. She knew that Dick had been Mao’s right-hand man.

Or maybe Pearl would not ask. She was not the kind to presume. She would have heard about Mao’s persecutions and would have wondered about Dick’s fate. In comparison to Hsu Chih-mo, Dick was hot in temper and strong in character. Although he had tried to ride the tiger, he was too honest for Mao. He didn’t even know when he had off ended Mao. The people of Chin-kiang thought that Dick deserved his tragic ending because he had followed Mao. Papa and Carpenter Chan had never understood Dick. His rejection of Christianity made him suspect to both men. But Dick was against all religions. Like Mao, Dick claimed himself godless. But he had ended up doing exactly what he hated, worshipping Mao.

Pearl was the only one who understood both Dick and me, the same way she understood China. Perhaps this was why Nixon had picked her to accompany him.

Pearl would not have forgotten Hsu Chih-mo. I was sure of that. But I would tell her that Hsu Chih-mo was a lucky man. By that, I meant that he was better off dead. Hsu Chih-mo would have suffered horribly if he had lived to see the Cultural Revolution. He would have ended up worse than Dick.

We were falling asleep waiting inside when we heard Carpenter Chan’s voice.

“They are gone!” He came through the door, gasping.

“Who’s gone?”

“The Americans.”

“Was Nixon here?” Rouge asked.

Carpenter Chan nodded, trying to recover his breath.

“We saw the foreigners,” Double Luck David said, “but the authorities took them away as fast as they came.”

“Where is Pearl?” I asked.

Carpenter Chan shook his head. “I am afraid that she didn’t come.”

I tried not to let the disappointment get to me. I composed myself and asked again, “Do you mean Pearl didn’t come to China, or do you mean she didn’t come to Chin-kiang?”

“Take a look at this.” Carpenter Chan produced a paper from his pocket. “It has Madame Mao’s signature on it.”

In the past, families chose different couplets to decorate their door frames for the Chinese New Year. The most popular couplets focused on luck, health, and fortune. But this year, every family in Chin-kiang wanted the lines I tacked to my door.

It was the town’s silent protest. It expressed our feelings for our friend in exile.

The next morning an unexpected message came: The American guests had requested another tour of Pearl Buck’s hometown. Carpenter Chan was instructed to order the people to tear down all the couplets as soon as possible.

But people were slow to act. By the time the Americans appeared, the families were still on their ladders trying to take down the couplets.

I forgot rules, warnings, and the possibility of imprisonment as I moved toward the center of the town.

The crowd followed me.

We didn’t see Pearl. We saw a big-nosed foreign man surrounded by guards. He must be Nixon, we figured. Nixon was talking to people, perhaps asking what they were doing. People had stunned looks on their faces. With his big smile, Nixon asked the Chinese translator, a young woman, what the couplets said.

The translator looked frightened. She avoided explaining the meaning behind the couplets.

Nixon was confused and said that he had a lot to learn about Chinese culture.

Followed by the Chinese authorities, the police, and his American Secret Service agents, Nixon moved on.

We followed quietly at a distance. Rouge joined me. The crowd grew larger.

Nixon was led to his car. Before entering, he stopped as if he’d changed his mind. He turned to the translator and asked, “Do you by any chance know Pearl Buck?”

“No, I don’t,” the young woman replied quickly.

“Would you ask the crowd if anyone knew Pearl Buck?”

“I am sorry. I don’t think so.” The translator shook her head.

“Would you ask, for me?” Nixon pressed gently.

The translator grabbed the tail of her braided hair and sank her teeth into it. Her fear was obvious.

Nixon repeated the question.

The translator burst into tears. She stared into her notebook and forced out the words “It is beyond my duty.”

“Pearl Buck is a personal friend of mine,” Nixon said. “She grew up right here in Chin-kiang. She asked me to say hello to her friends. She wanted so much to come back . . .”

I could hear every word even from where I stood, a few yards away. My heart felt like it was bursting inside its chamber.

Receiving no response from the translator, Nixon turned to the crowd and asked, “Do any of you know Pearl Buck?”

A dead silence was the response.

The government’s shadow hung like a thick black cloud over our heads.

“I am sorry,” Nixon said, nodding. He stepped back and turned again toward his car.

“Wait a moment, Mr. President,” Rouge called out. “My mother does.”

“Your mother?” Nixon was delighted.

“Yes, my mother. She knew Pearl Buck, and she is right here.” Rouge pushed me toward Nixon.

Nixon stepped between the Chinese guards and stopped in front of me before anyone could react. The guards looked confused. It was obvious they didn’t know how to respond, how to stop him. Nixon’s Secret Service agents stayed close to their president, so the Chinese agents couldn’t get near him.

“So you know Pearl Buck?” Nixon asked.

“So does everyone here,” I said in English. “Not only did we know Pearl, but we knew her father, Absalom, and her mother, Carie . . . Pearl and I grew up together.” I stopped, trying desperately to press back my tears.

“How wonderful that you speak English!” Nixon’s face lit up. “What is your name?”

“My mother’s name is Willow Yee,” Rouge spoke.

“Richard Nixon.” The American president offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Willow Yee.”

The moment I touched his hand, my tears poured. The reality that I might never see Pearl again caught up with me.

“What is the meaning of the couplets?” Nixon asked. “And why are they being taken down?”

“Good couplets!” Nixon nodded. “Now everything makes sense to me.”

“Mr. President, why isn’t Pearl with you?” voices in the crowd asked. “Why didn’t she come?”

“Well, folks,” Nixon said, smiling, “all I can tell you is that Pearl really wanted to come. Trust me, she did everything she could. Absolutely everything!”

“Please help make her visit happen, President Nixon,” I pleaded. “For Pearl and for all of us.”

“Please try, Mr. American President,” the crowd echoed.

“I will,” Nixon said, and we heard the sincerity in his voice.

Knowing exactly what might await me once Nixon was gone, I spoke my last words. “President Nixon, would you tell Pearl that her friend Willow misses her and the entire town of Chin-kiang misses her?”

“You have my word.” Nixon bit his lower lip and made the promise.

The moment Nixon and his guards moved on, the government agents arrested me.

“Madame Mao has authorized me to take charge of this case,” Vanguard said. “Your days are numbered!”

I was charged with four crimes. First, for insulting Madame Mao. Second, for exposing national secrets to Nixon. Third, for degrading China with couplets. Fourth, and the worst, for being a “planted agent” of Pearl Buck’s.

I did not feel defeated. Instead, I luxuriated in the memory of my encounter with Nixon. I imagined him returning home and meeting with Pearl. I imagined him describing his experience. Pearl would be pleased. She would say, “Willow. Of course I know her. She was my best friend.”

The prison was called Donkey’s Crotch by the inmates. The area was desolate and rocky and covered with snow year-round. The inmates were forced to do hard labor before their execution. Because of my age, I was given a job making straw mats for the other prisoners. The mats were used to wrap the dead. Since they didn’t have to make coffins, it saved wood. The mats were in short supply, so I was ordered to work long hours. I had to make ten a day or starve. It was impossible to complete the task, so I starved. The prison also limited the inmates’ water usage. Each inmate was allowed a half cup a day for drinking. There was no water for washing.

I had no idea how Nixon found out about my imprisonment. Pearl must have insisted that he check on me. She knew how cruel Madame Mao could be and must have sensed that I might be in trouble. Pearl must have convinced Nixon not to trust any information provided by the Chinese government regarding my safety. Nixon’s aides must have inquired about me. They must have eventually learned about my imprisonment from Rouge. Premier Chou En-lai must have gone to Mao with Nixon’s request regarding my release. He must have received Mao’s permission to let me go. If Madame Mao might have ignored Premier Chou En-lai’s request, she wouldn’t disobey Mao. What counted was that Mao needed Nixon to be on his side in order to keep Russia from starting a war with China.

After nine months in prison, I was free to go home.