Conversations with the Evils (When Mao Met Stalin)

In 'The Good Companion' , do you remember the young Chinese guard who was hit and crushed by the door kicked by Major Sasaki Hideyoshi before the latter would escape from the jail to prevent all the elites of Manchukuo in Puyi's palace from being massacred by the bomb trucks of the communist guerillas ?  His name was Zhang Wenxuan , the ex-university student. He finally survived and had worked for the communist party until it reigned over the whole China by conquering the Kuomintang Party after the civil war in 1949. And now this short story is about  an utterly crucial experience in his life and narrated by him as the first person. Numerous parts in those chapters are based on my imagination. 

1

Zhongnanhai, Beijing ,  December 1, 1949

" Here they come !"  Zhou Enlai looked so delighted to see us but still seemed to be fidgety a little bit.

With indescribable excitement,  I bowed to him as politely as I could in my entire life and glanced at Li Qianyu who was doing the same.  The first prime minister of the newly founded PRC [People's Republic of China] looked taller than I thought. He was handsome with the thick eyebrows and the slick hair in his neat Zhongshan suit while holding the thick file of papers even made him look industrious , deserving the nationwide praise as one of the most hardworking men in China. 

Li said,

"Please accept my apology for being quite late , Premier Zhou , since the bodyguards at the gate were so fastidious and searched us thoroughly while we could do nothing but had to comply with."

the premiere shook his head.

"I've told them more than one hundred times that they should curtail this kind of preposterous procedure of security as we're in the new China : All the Chinese are equal ! The party leaders are not different from anyone."

I gawked at him , wondering whether this was from his sincerity or merely lip service. Despite being a member of the communist party championing the human equality for more than a decade,  I deep down inside had a morbid impression that the party's highest echelons would finally become the new privilege group , not different from the emperors and the royal families when China was still kingdom or Chiang Kai-shek and all the corrupt members of Kuomintang Party [the Nationalist Party] who had fled to Taiwan several month ago. And many years later my such a hunch was right. Having devoted half of their life to the bloody revolution , those leaders were now like the happy rich farmers who enjoyed the bountiful crops on their land. And this was the reason why they chose the grandiose place like Zhongnanhai as their office and residence.

After a brief conversation,  Zhou and his aide without delay ushered us along the wide corridor and the large chandeliers into a room which was opulent and adorned meticulously. Thanks to the fact that Zhongnanhai used to be a palace before, it probably had belonged to the emperors or at least the princes. Mao Zedong was sinking into the sofa burying his face in the newspaper and beside him was the cigarette’s smoke lingering from its ashtray while an old bald guy with beard was standing solemnly not far from him. He heard our commotion , put down the paper and cordially waved his hand to receive our bow while picking up the cigarette for a big puff. 

After the valet had put the cups of green tea , Mao's favourite drink , down on the table before us,  it was now the beginning of my interview and sitting before China's supreme leaders like this was like a  dream , so I quivered a bit. The chairman of the PRC however smilingly said to Li who was sitting modestly opposite to him,

"Comrade Li , I never expect that your chosen one would look erudite with an appearance of intellectual like this." 

Li , the head of the party's personnel department , nodded.

" Chairman Mao , as the lecturer of the Department of Russian Studies, yes.. a part of People's University of China, Comrade Zhang Wenxuan is the best among our candidates. He had studied in the USSR during World War 2 for years and gained enormous knowledge about its politics and society. Even the Russians were amazed when listening to his utterly fluent Russian, so it's not an exaggeration that I can't find any better interpreter in this country."

Mao chuckled but then coughed a bit , prompting the valet to move but he immediately raised his hand. Like in various pictures or documentary films, China's new emperor used to be lean and rugged thanks to the arduous years of the civil war which forced the communist party to fight tooth and nail against the government mostly in the jungle. I however could not help noticing that he became chubbier and whiter as his work was exclusively sedentary. Besides , the hair at the front of his head was completely gone and became his iconic hairstyle which made him the figure of power and wisdom especially in a myriad of paintings in the state's propaganda posters. He however surprised me with sarcasm and friskiness which were not known much in the public and I was so elated that he seemed not to be irritated by our late arrival but much later learnt that Mao since being the supreme leader became increasingly erratic as he always rebelled against time and schedules set up by his secretarial office and party. He disregarded punctuality. 

"Sorry to disturb you with my darn cough. Apart from being constantly harassed by the unbearably cold weather in Beijing , I feel much weaker when I have to deal with the stack of papers and the endless meetings. Hilarious that I begin to yearn for the time of battles which was much less scary than these and I sometimes talk to myself : let's bring back Chiang [Kai-shek] for a fresh new battle which will certainly colour my world."

Everybody roared with laughter but Zhou still looked preoccupied with something. Mao was like the factory owner who generally dictated the national policies along with the members of the party’s highest organ : the Politburo Standing Committee while Zhou was like a manager who was responsible for running most of everything in the country – an uphill task for him. 

Mao fixed his eyes on me and said,

"Comrade Zhang or I prefer to call you , Professor, your profile and look are really impressing me - lanky and bespectacled. I really like intellectuals ! They are so brilliant and have the great insights."

I smilingly nodded despite knowing he was speaking with tongue in cheeks to fool me that he was complimenting me. Actually , Mao had the complicated feelings toward intellectuals or the highly educated persons but mostly it was hostility which would tremendously affect the life of millions of them in the next 2 decades , including me. This was mainly caused by the time he was still a young assistant librarian in the Peking University in 1918. As the senior clerk, he wondered why those library visitors like the students and the lecturers , including the famous writers or thinkers whose writings about human progress and equality inspired the millions of Chinese intellectuals always treated him coldly or with disdain. And Mao then realized how hypocritical they were since he was only the humble college guy who came from the rural and spoke in the southern accent. It also terrified me when someone in Mao’s inner circle told me afterward that I bore a striking resemblance to Bo Gu , a member of 28 Bolsheviks , who used to be Mao's political rival.   

[The 28 Bolsheviks was the defunct group of Marxist intellectuals which was influential in the early period of the communist party.]       

I said,

"It's my great honour , Chairman Mao. 2 months ago, I was also standing among the vast crowds at Tiananmen square to witness your great speech at the balcony of the Forbidden City - that's exceedingly impressive !"

[Mao that time was proclaiming the founding of the PRC on October 1 ,1949.] 

Mao chuckled.

Really ? Don't spoil me with a brazen flattery !  I was just reading the document but still doing it terribly since I hadn't had much sleep the previous night - a little cranky.  I wish I would go back to do it once more without the paper. Hey , Premier , can we hold the ceremony for me to shout at the top of my lungs about the founding of our new China again next year ?"

Zhou nodded solemnly although it was just a quip and everyone burst into laughter. He looked very prudent especially in front of Mao and other party leaders.

Li said,

"Chairman Mao , as far as I know , you will visit Moscow in the next 2 weeks , right ?"

Mao looked at Zhou who abruptly nodded. Zhou said,

"Of course, I therefore need Comrade Zhang to visit me and Chairman more often , so he will be able to study and have the clear ideas about what Chairman and our team will say during the negotiations with the Russians for the best interpreting them into Russian."

Mao was curious.

"Professor , have you ever met Stalin? "

I nodded.

"Yes , Chairman Mao. Once he visited the group of Chinese who lived in Moscow and shook hands with me but without saying anything. Don't worry. I have studied his life and works for a great amount of time and even used to write the article about him."

Both Mao and Zhou looked visibly satisfied. We had enjoyed the exuberant chat for a while before I and Li would excuse ourselves. Outside Li congratulated me that I had just received the great admirations from the party's top leaders which only the small group of the ordinary citizens like us had experienced. Now I had the task as Mao’s personal interpreter and had to accompany him to Moscow in the middle of this freezing month to meet Joseph Stalin , the supreme leader of the USSR, for fostering the relationship between the 2 countries. I was over the moon but then found from my wristwatch that it was the lunch time already and got on the bus to Beijing's People Library, which was the largest library in the country where my wife was working in.

Much to my surprise , Xiaoli looked brooding instead. She should be glad that my pay would be so handsome , followed by some privilege for our family.

" Really ? Should I be glad about it , Zuanzuan ?"

, said she while struggling to pick up the stir-fried morning glory with garlic with her chopsticks. Since there was not even a single customer in the restaurant and its owner was our close friend ,  we could talk to one another freely but quietly like we were whispering. We both knew that behind the propaganda that the communist party was democratic and broad-minded about even the dissenting ideas, China gradually and furtively became the totalitarian state with the mass surveillance and the secret police which could land us in jail if we broke the law by simply criticizing the party. Funny that we could not wait to talk about my important task at home but still , how could we be so sure that our good neighbours who had welcomed communism with open arms wouldn't eavesdrop us ?

She said,

"You have to bear in mind that this is the first time that codger [Mao] will go abroad and he himself is a monolingual speaker [can speak only one language]. Can't you see that even his Chinese has the thick Hunanese accent- almost unintelligible for many Chinese like us ? "

I felt that she increasingly dared rebuke Mao. Her father was a successful businessman but he and the family had to flee the communists to Hong Kong barely one year before the collapse of Chiang's government leaving her here alone since she sympathized with communism and fell in love with me , especially after learning that I was the spy of the communist party. But in just 2 months under the regime of Mao, she became disillusioned as the political atmosphere around us became more and more oppressive. The incident convincing her that China was descending into madness was the millions of alleged landlords around the country were put on trials before the angry crowds by the communist party for the crimes they had not committed and they always ended up being beaten to death – an ominous sign for the bourgeois in urbans who were uncertain about their fate. My wife also recently told me that she and her colleagues were ordered to destroy the books deemed by the party decadent since their topics were about capitalism , bourgeois way of life and religions including superstitions...etc. Those books were burnt en masse and disappeared with the thick smoke regardless of how old and precious they were. As a book lover , she was despondent.

I nonetheless still loved her anyway thanks to the fact that I myself began to be sceptical of my own party but refrained from joining her criticism as it was too dangerous. In spite of my awkwardness , Xiaoli went on, 

"  Zuanzuan , this is one of the riskiest tasks in the world right now as it will be involved in the relationship between the 2 gigantic communist countries and the best of interests of our country which is now like a terminally ill patient after a series of devastating wars. I used to read the biography book about that codger during the Long March and the civil wars : he is Machiavellian , impetuous , megalomaniac ... to name but a few. Getting rid of his comrades-in-arms who had fought along with him in battles seemed to be like his proud trophies , urgh…do you want to be friends with someone like this ? And ultimately ,do you think if something goes wrong between that codger and the other [Stalin] who is as evil as him , will the authority blame them ? No , that's you - the scapegoat for bad or shoddy translation even though you can do it perfectly... and what will happen to you and our family next ? "

Her voice was trembling and then she was on the verge of tears. I quickly stood up to hold and console her like she was a baby.

"Don't worry , Xiaoli. Chairman seemed to like me a lot  and have great faith in me. We had a warm chatter like the good friends who had not met for a long time , so  I believe he will spare me if I make a mistake. Believe me : I will manage to catch up with him every step and my ear will quickly adjust to his accent and also his whims. Apart from that, I'll record everything the first minute I work for him as the evidence to prove the accuracy of my translation. Ah ….before leaving [Zhongnanhai] , I also bumped into his personal secretary and he's the good guy whom I think I can rely on."

Xiaoli wiped away her little tears with the handkerchief handed by me and was about to say something but restrained herself. I did not know whether she believed me or not. But then she said,

"And that secret ? You must be working with him for a long time and the sly old fox like him will finally pry into your privacy and your past and dig up your secret even while you’re not aware of !"

I blushed , feeling the big goosebump on the arms. 

- Yes, that secret !

2

Below that iron door, which was mercilessly pressing down on my body , I felt the dizziness gradually engulfing my senses. For hours I had attempted to muster the remaining strength to raise my left arm above my head for help. How could I not call this an act of mindless desperation when I was in my society's secret prison and no one was here but the sadly mangled corpses which used to be my friends ? Despite my blurry vision , I still saw them lying there peacefully in the pool of blood and the odours from them were unbearably awful as time passed but my shame seemed to outweigh them all. Tragically, I was at last the traitor who had revealed the secret plan to that Japanese soldier and it would leave our yearslong effort in an utter shambles only because I was afraid that he would gouge my eyes out. I however still could not avoid death - the creeping death but  presumed it to be much less excruciating than what would have happened to my eyes. And with resignation I hoped my friends would all forgive me when we met again in hell , heaven or wherever.

The door all of a sudden was miraculously lifted up allowing me to breathe more freely and that was Hideyoshi who had put me in this jeopardy. I wondered whether it was possible for just a guy to have kicked such a heavy door and later thrown it away like it was a piece of junk and this puzzle had still haunted my memories until today. He easily lifted my body up to help me rest my back on the wall and fully stretch both of my painful legs on the floor.

He said cheerfully,

" O, thank Buddha ! You're still alive ! Sorry for being quite late, young man. But it's still much better than letting you rot here although you deserve it as a coward, isn't it?"

Although I began to have a speck of gratitude , I was affronted by his snubs which I had to admit were humiliatingly true. But he later relieved me from the immense pains with a finger adroitly poked into my ribs several times which seemed incredible for a soldier like him. 

I blurted out,

" Ah… that’s much better ! May I ask you why you returned to help me ? And this also means you already thwarted our plan ?"

Hideyoshi said,

" Regrettably yes ! Everybody in your gang was already dead whereas almost everybody at Puyi's palace was unscathed. But I won't elaborate on how I brought the disaster upon your gang's operation. I can only guarantee that you must not be impressed ! Avoid watching its news and move on. Don’t let the guilt for betraying your peers consumed you for the rest of your life , this is my suggestion."

I glanced at the sword near him and just smiled faintly. If I were foolhardy to lambast him and try to punch him in the face , I would without doubt incur the wrath of that bloody steel.

He continued. 

"And why do I come back ?  It's my guilt which dictates that I must help you . Can you believe that ? I deep down inside admire you and your gang 's determination to fight for your country. Imagine if Japan were occupied like this, I would strive with heart and soul to fight for independence too. But I'm afraid that I can't follow in the old Koji's footsteps as it would be an act of treason. By the way, I have a hunch that the bookish university guy like you would become important to your country in the future. China as a part of Japan or under Japan's permanent rule ? NO ! That's a pipe dream of the powerful old men in Tokyo. Your country would become independent and strong someday."

He stood up and put a large wooden box down before me.

"Hope some food and water here is enough to help you recover.  Try to stay alive and find the way to prove that my hunch is right. Farewell ,  sir ! " 

By the time he was about to turn around, I interrupted him by roaring, 

"Wait !" 

I quietly bowed to him even though I still struggled to move and then saw him smiling and leaving in a hurry. I did not know what time it was now but was over the moon to be alive.  My eyes however moistened when reminiscing about my fallen comrades and I wondered whether I should think of Hideyoshi with vengefulness or gratefulness. An hour had passed and I finally gained some of my strength back to open the box and found the noodle and the wonton soup inside. I shamelessly devoured them since starving for almost 2 days made them so delicious like they were made in heaven.

.........................

"Hey , Professor, are you dreaming of eating food in heaven ? You're smiling in your sleep,"

said someone while shaking my body , so  I was jolted awake amidst the giggles and saw Wang Dongxing , Mao’s head of security, staring at me like I was just a boy who cared about only sleeping. I was now in the fast- running large train with the gloomy sky outside as we were in a snow squall. The train shook to and fro but was still running through the strong wind bravely with the sound of its wheels grinding against the rails and was from time to time joined by its whistle shrieking loudly not far from us.

I stopped folding my arms , sat up straight and said while my breath became a little mist ,

“ What time is it now ? And where are we ?”

Men Yao , Wang’s henchman, who was sitting opposite me said,

“ It’s almost noon now and we’re passing Khimki , the nearest town to Moscow , so we’ll reach the Yaroslavsky Station within half an hour or a bit more. Professor , If you’re hungry , please hang on a little longer ; the Russians are preparing delicious lunch for us.” 

Irritated by how sarcastic his words were, I almost retorted that I had no appetite at all. Living in the train which was rushing through the freezing temperatures like it would never stop made my body function terribly erratic. It was unknown to me that Mao feared of flying and the time of travelling by train to Moscow was abominably extended from only not more than 10 hours by plane to not more than 10 days ! Chairman himself did not seem to enjoy it either but had to bite the bullet when his phobia was insurmountable. The communist party thus churned out the propaganda that Mao was a kind of hard-working man who wanted to be close to people around the country recently liberated from the greedy nationalist party who loved the capitalists to smithereens . The train thus stopped from time to time at the scheduled stations for Mao to meet the local bosses of the party and a group of citizens who had been carefully selected , so they could pretend to be the avid proponents of the PRC. 

Despite my utter attempt to avoid the politics , I overheard what those big shots had discussed with Mao and learnt the predicament of the communist party : the resistance from various communities which were strongly opposed to the party’s radical policies. Moreover, they deemed the communist party the barbarian militias who accidentally conquered Chiang’s government , so it had never deserved their respect. Mao boldly ordered those bosses to suppress them ruthlessly if the negotiations failed and they were going to lose power. Even though I already learnt alongside my wife that China was increasingly authoritarian and the party had already killed plenty of people with those ridiculous Kangaroo courts , I was appalled by how murderous Mao was. This was from his life in the protracted bloody civil wars where killing in cold blood had ensured him survivals or victories. 

 Zhou Enlai was the one who most frequently made a phone call to Mao to show that he was still looking after everything in China for him. Mao told me that Zhou said that the whole China was breathlessly waiting to see him shaking hands with Stalin the minute he stepped on the Russian soil which was quite a publicity stunt. I also had a chance to talk to his aide to send my salary to Xiaoli but restrained myself from asking him to convey a message that I was missing her terribly as this risked exposing my weakness.

During the night Mao always spent hours working or writing and when he felt bored but still could not sleep, that was my problem. His bodyguard was frequently sent to wake me up and ask me to engage in the conversations that Mao thought sounded interesting and profound to an intellectual like me but I was so sleepy that green tea or coffee was of no help. There were many times that another party leader like Chen Boda who could not sleep either joined us, so I could take a chance to take a rest while pretending to sit beside them as a humble listener.

In our conversation the Chairman always looked enthusiastic to know about life in the Soviet Union : how the Muscovites had lived during such a devasting war ?  Did the people then still go to churches [which were allowed to open] or theatres ? And his curiosity often ended with Stalin :  his life , worldview and even bad habits though I assumed that he had already known that. I wondered who in the world had more faith in Stalin than Mao. For him, the supreme leader of the USSR was his respected mentor as they were both the great leaders of the communist world to fight against the archenemy like the West.

One night Mao asked me about my life. I told him that I was an orphan when I was very young and adopted by a well-to-do merchant and his wife. After graduating from university , I joined the communist party and worked clandestinely in Manchukuo.  And I pretentiously skipped to the part that I had been married to Xiaoli for years but remained childless. Mao said that I should at least have 3 kids and they would grow up as the driving forces behind the prosperous China under his rule as the Great Helmsman.

But the Chairman suddenly asked the question which I had expected least in my life.

“By the way, professor, back to 1940 , I wonder why you were the only one who survived that day ? The day that the Japanese soldier massacred all the members of the secret society supported by our party in Manchukuo.” 

I was stupefied.

“Ah …. I think I ha …d already officially clarified it to the party numerous times , Chairman Mao.”

Mao chuckled while picking up the boiled egg from its dish.

“Tell me again. I just want to hear it from you.”

I was still relieved that his tone sounded like it was merely a chit-chat.

“I was knocked unconscious by that heavy door and Hideyoshi probably assumed that I was already dead while he was busy slaughtering all my friends . After I regained my consciousness , he was gone.”

Mao said,

“ And how did he know the plot to assassinate Puyi and Doihara ?”

Despite feeling a big lump in my throat , I said,

“I don’t know, Chairman Mao. He probably extracted it from one of my friends. There were the marks of brutal tortures on that guy’s body like a sadistic interrogation.”

I wanted to thank Xiaoli as this part was concocted by her and then continued.

“ Lucky for me that other members of our society returned to our headquarters after they forgot something and rescued me on time before leaving to arrest Hideyoshi while I was too injured to join them and the rest is history.”

Mao gave me the look which I could understand with intuition :

- Bullshit ! Is this your best plot ? Why were you so lucky ?

Even the cold now could not stop me from sweating. What would happen if Mao learnt my secret ?  I would without doubt be severely reprimanded , deprived of my party membership and end up in the labour camp or even being executed. But his secretary unwittingly let me off the hook by chiming in to inform him some important news in Beijing. 

………………………………………………………………

The train ground to a halt and then jerked forward a little like a signal to tell us that it eventually arrived at our destination. Mao looked quite groggy and exhausted as he had not slept much but remained excited. As soon as he got off the train as the first one of our group, he was helped by the 2 Soviet soldiers to reach the ground, but then his mood seemed to dramatically change when the persons standing before the crowd were merely Stalin’s henchmen : Vyacheslav Molotov and Nikolai Bulganin.

 – Where was Stalin ? 

I rushed to stand by them and began to translate what they were saying to Mao while they had their own interpreter too. Several Soviet generals in full uniform with the shimmering medals were also there and behind them was the group of Chinese who had lived in Russia vibrantly welcoming him with a bouquet of flower but those could hardly placate Mao who , according to my observation, looked a bit sullen. Mao led his entourage who were all male shook hands with the hosts,  impressing one another with cordial smiles and greeting in their own languages. And I felt delighted to be included in the group like I was a VIP myself. The guards from both sides looked around with utmost care. Wang bragged to me that his men were so formidable that even the Russians must plan to sack their own and hire them instead. I simply snickered.

The welcoming ceremony then followed the run-of-the- mill protocol while the snow seemed to show mercy by falling much less than when we had been on the train but it was still goddam cold :  -20°C !  A young soldier walked with the long sword to ceremonially greet Mao who was standing among the rotund Russian authorities near the parked train , comically looking from a  distance like a big bundle of overcoats and dark fur hats. The military band played the March of the Volunteers , the Chinese anthem which was quite disappointingly short and it was Mao’s turn to make a speech by reading a paper which still sounded quite perfunctory. There were several times that Mao’s voice became unsteady and slurred but both Soviet’s and China’s government would exploit this event as the  propaganda to intimidate the West which was warily monitoring the growing relationship between the 2 titans of the communist camp. 

I saw the Russian interpreter fluently translating Mao’s speech to Molotov who tilted his head to him quite attentively. Molotov was one of the closet associates whom Stalin used to trust most even though Stalin became increasingly paranoid but in the final years of Stalin , he could not avoid the codger’s distrust and was heavily criticized by him. It was embarrassing that even when Molotov 's poor wife was  arrested , he was still loyal to Stalin . As the Soviet Minister of Foreign Affairs , he once stood side by side with Joachim von Ribbentrop , his German counterpart,  sent by Hitler to sign the notorious Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact in 1939 in Moscow. This pact guaranteed that Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union would not slash each other’s throats but in 1940 Hitler threw this pact into the garbage bin by launching Operation Barbarossa and invaded the Soviet Union. 

Mao was ushered into a large Russian limousine while all of his entourage would follow him in the less luxurious cars. Suddenly , the Chairman beckoned me into his car before I would find that a lanky guy , the military’s liaison officer, was sitting opposite us. By the time the limousine was leaving the station , he smilingly nodded and greatly surprised us by greeting us in Mandarin impeccably. Watching that guy lecturing us on the history of Moscow like we were the tourists , Mao began to be distraught when his limousine appeared to go outside the city. 

He briskly interrupted him. 

“Where are we going ?”

He said,

“ We’re going to the dacha No. 1 , Chairman Mao – the best dacha our government has ever accommodated the foreign guests. We know that you’re extremely tired and want you to have a rest and delicious meal before meeting Comrade Stalin within hours.” 

[Dacha is roughly translated here as the guest house.]

Mao looked furious and talked to me. 

“靠! (damn !)   , why have those people done this to us ? They should have compensated for the shoddy ceremony with the welcome lunch at a place like the city hall as the way to honour us and why didn’t …..his supreme leader come to greet me by himself ?”

Mao was trying to control his temper and avoid more expletives but that liaison officer looked uncontrollably startled. He tried to offer the Chairman a heartfelt apology which made our situation a little better but Mao became uncomfortably silent. We eventually reached the grand village on the suburbs of Moscow. The dacha for Mao was the largest and the most beautiful among the others but this still meant nothing compared to the lost prestige of Mao and China (in his thought). I wondered:  was it their intention to antagonize him ? 

Much later, I learnt Stalin’s absence at the train station was deliberate like the missing welcome lunch – a way to warn his Chinese counterpart about his real position in the hierarchy of world communism or in the simple term , Stalin was teaching Mao who the boss was. And this clearly showed the bumpy relationship between Mao and Stalin until the latter passed away not so peacefully in 1953. But it still quirkily contributed to the Sino-Soviet split much later in the 60s which turned the 2 countries into adversaries. 

I realized that I became a part of this crucial history which proved that Hideyoshi’s hunch was right even though I was just an interpreter for the 2 leaders but language was extremely important especially for such a precarious relationship.  I was not sure whether I should be proud of this as I must not make a single mistake.

Please read again. A lot of parts are changed. 

                  3

The Red Tsar and the Red Emperor

By the time Mao and I set foot in Stalin's study room , I realized how awkward our situation was. The old codger in military tunic was sitting idly at his table , relishing his pipe while the thick smoke almost engulfed his face. He was writing something on his book -perhaps a list of the names of the enemies of the state who would be sent for executions tomorrow. It was hilarious that seeing Mao who looked so thrilled,  Stalin acted like only seeing one of his entourages entering the room to give him the mundane daily reports about the state affairs or something.  He emotionlessly nodded to Mao instead of standing up and smiling for a handshake like the fellow revolutionaries. I noticed Mao's chagrin but he had still approached Stalin cautiously and greeted him with utmost politeness which I had never seen in my life. I started to perform my duty despite my discomfort and I also could not feel lonelier when the other members of our group were not allowed to accompany us. This was probably a psychological manipulation from Stalin or his own paranoia , regarding how thoroughly we had been searched by the guards in front of his large dacha.   

" Come on over and sit down, " said Stalin. Although the smoke from his pipe began to fade away,  I did not know whether he smiled or not since his moustache was so thick. 

Mao sat down on the chair opposite him , giving off the vibe of a clerk meeting his manager. There were also 2 of Stalin's underlings standing nearby with the lukewarm gestures. They were without their own interpreter -a breach of protocol but I believed they were secretly recording everything in this room anyway. I was then baffled to find that the conversation between the 2 leaders had an emotional roller-coaster : resentment , admiration,  trust and distrust , beneath the words which had been forging the embryonic relationship between the 2 countries which were both self-important. 

Stalin congratulated Mao on his success in defeating Chiang's formidable army which intrigued him and the founding of the new republic. He then asked him about the arduous journey from China. I however could sense scorn in Stalin's words as he must have known so well why Mao had not come here by plane. After answering those , Mao showed his gratitude to Stalin for steadfastly supporting him and the CCP (Chinese Communist Party). But as far as I knew , Stalin had supported both Chiang Kai-shek and Mao during the civil wars. In 1936 Chiang was held hostage in Xi’an by Zhang Xueliang, a patriotic warlord, and given an ultimatum to join Mao in fighting the ever- aggressive Japanese. Learning the news , the leaders of communist party were fanatically ecstatic and demanded that Zhang immediately execute their nemesis. But Stalin intervened by coercing the CCP into negotiating with Zhang for the release of Chiang instead while Mao was hugely disappointed but had to comply with. 

The Soviet dictator had his own reason : Chiang was the only one who was capable of leading the unified China to deter Japan's military advancements. Killing him would culminate in the horrifying power vacuums and chaos in this country since the CCP's power was not consolidated yet and the pro-Japanese political faction was likely to prevail. The Japanese army would consequently pose a grave threat to the USSR in the east. This meant Stalin deemed nationalism more important than communism which top priority was to support the proletariats. 

I also had some doubt : what would have happened if the Kuomintang had won in the civil war ?  Stalin had probably gladly accepted Chiang. Even though China would not have been ruled by the communists, it could have been the useful ally of the USSR while maintaining the robust relationship with the US. China consequently might have become the go-between for the 2 powerful adversaries in the cold war. Mao at that time could have been languishing somewhere : a prison or a place of exile , watching Stalin and Chiang affectionately hugging one another like the comrades-in-arms in a newspaper or a newsreel in theatre. Stalin and Mao were now talking not with genuine sincerity but with calculations like the chess players.

Mao showed his gratitude again for the USSR to recognize the PRC in October , followed by the countries which were all the Soviet Union's lackeys like Romania , Hungary and Poland. But this happened after Mao had declared his 'Lean to One Side' policy to align China with the communist bloc even 3 months before the civil war ended. Mao said that in the eyes of the Chinese and especially the communist party leaders , Stalin was the true hero whose ideas inspired the great revolution and highly revered in China as the people always held portraits of Stalin alongside Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels and Vladimir Lenin in numerous political rallies (but that was staged by the CCP). Stalin smilingly thanked him for this kind of flattery and urged him to cut to the chase.

When asked about China’s sovereignty , the Soviet dictator straightforwardly showed his desire to maintain the Soviet influence in Xinjiang and retain Outer Mongolia [the current Mongolia] as a Soviet satellite state and Mao begrudgingly agreed thanks to his plan to ask for enormous loans and military assistance from Stalin. Mao however insisted that a new treaty replace the one Stalin had previously signed with Chiang's government but Stalin showed his reluctance as under this treaty the USSR was granted the rights to Chinese ports [Port Arthur and Dalian] and railways in Manchuria. Mao was livid and could barely hide his feeling. He blurted out an expletive and Stalin who could sense Mao's feeling asked me what Mao had just said. I smiled wryly and told him that Mao just exclaimed something like 'Oh my goodness !' or ‘ Heaven !’.Stalin chuckled before blowing smoke from his pipe in the air. Despite his incredulity , he did not say anything more which even made him enigmatic. I suspected that beneath that calmness he was probably planning to do something which might make our jaw drop in terror.  One of his henchmen suddenly walked into the room , startling me a bit as my imagination was running wild : we were all under arrest and Stalin forced the CCP to designate its new Chairman who was far more subservient to Kremlin than Mao.

Apart from the tense atmosphere , Stalin's heavy Georgian accent  [he was born in the modern day Georgia but at that time it was still a part of Russian Empire] was a problem , plus the way he always muttered even caused me a headache. He sometimes uttered some words which sounded like he was insulting Mao but I could not confirm this and nimbly avoided translating them , hoping that my recorder would help me find their actual meanings later. I eventually had to send all my translations to Mao's secretary before he would make a weekly report to the Politburo in Beijing.

But when the conversation was about their mutual enemies : the US and the West , the atmosphere was much enlivened. Both men enjoyed berating them and praising one another for bravely standing up to those evil capitalists. But Mao confessed that he was concerned with the rising influence of the US after World War 2 and the way it had modernized Japan during the occupation also kept unsettling him as Japan could attack China again but this time under the command of the US. The PRC was still struggling to fight the Kuomintang’s army which had retreated to the south and the west of China apart from Taiwan. The failed attack of Taiwan in October also greatly humiliated Mao when his troops on the wooden fishing boats were obliterated by Chiang’s army.  Mao begged Stalin to provide him with more military assistance to finish off Chiang but the old codger looked reluctant as he was afraid that this might open the door for the US military intervention and escalate into World War 3.

The conversation between the narcissistic dictators seemed to reach a dead end and Stalin said to me, 

"By the way, look at you, young man : you've spoken Russian so fluently , even better than me. May I know who you are ? "

I smiled meekly but felt uncomfortable that the Soviet Union’s supreme leader might use me to implicitly snub Mao. After my translation,  Mao said, 

" He's a lecturer in one of our prestigious universities. He knows profoundly about Russia since he used to study here for a long time (and I believe he even knows about your people and your country more than you , old man !). "

Stalin said,

" And his name ?"

The Chairman became dumbfounded since he had called me Professor all the time and forgotten my real name.

I said,

" Zhang Wenxuan , Comrade Stalin. I had studied and worked in Moscow for many years during World War 2 and even had an honour to shake hands with you once when you paid a visit to the Chinese expats here ... in the city hall about 1944." 

Stalin supposedly grinned.

"Really ? As the father of this great nation, I've met so many people in countless meetings that I forget their faces . And why didn't you join the communist party to fight the Japanese ?"

I said,

"I used to work for the underground society in Manchukuo and got injured which took a severe toll on my health. I then couldn't participate in any war , Comrade Stalin."

Stalin raised his voice and I wanted to punch myself in the face for mentioning that place again.

"Manchukuo ? "

He looked at Mao.

" Long time ago you beseeched me to give your clandestine group the powerful bombs to assassinate Puyi and a Japanese general in Manchukuo but the plan was pitifully thwarted. What a waste of money !"

Mao was indignant even though I had tried to make the last sentence much softer. He said,

" With all due respect , who (the hell) would know that there was a Japanese soldier possessing such an incredibly immense power , Comrade Stalin ?"

Stalin was talking to one of his men and then asked Mao what he had just said. I thought it was his trick to belittle his interlocutor. I also noticed nobody had still served us with the refreshments or anything which made me and Mao feel like the uninvited guests.

Stalin said, 

"After learning this news , I was scared shitless : what would have happened if there had been the soldiers like him -  only several or a dozen - in the Japanese Imperial Army which fought my Red Army in Manchukuo ? But my luck never ran out when he was one of a kind , so we could turn the glory of Kwangtung Army into the only nostalgic yearning. My intelligence later informed me that his name was Major Sasaki Hideyoshi who had been lured by Doihara into seducing Puyi, the closeted gay, for political gains - what a shenanigan !  But he at last screwed everything up and unexpectedly went to save both men by massacring every member of your society except one guy. Don't imagine that guy would work as your interpreter and be standing before me right now. Comrade Zhang , why were you the only one who survived his carnage?"

I trembled while the warm blood was running around my face. My shameful secret had been dug up by Mao and now Stalin. What the heck was happening to me? But I still had to translate this to Mao who unexpectedly became my hero by changing the topic.

"You just mentioned Puyi and I know that you've held him as a prisoner since 1945. Comrade Stalin, it's one of our missions here to bring him back to China since he's our citizen , so would you please consider it ?"

Stalin sniggered. He had never laughed heartily probably from his belief that laughing was an act of the weak and he alone was capable of making everyone laugh as a way to show that he had dominated them even though his jokes were either lame or sinister.

"Comrade Mao, this issue is quite complicated. He seems to be your citizen like your claim but he was actually the emperor of Manchukuo kingdom which was independent from China. And this kingdom is currently defunct , so I consider him the stateless person who is under our authority since we arrested him 5 years ago. Chiang had eagerly asked me to return Puyi to him but I refused as I knew he would without doubt shoot the former emperor in the head which yielded nothing. I believe Puyi is by nature a decent guy whose crooked life could be corrected by our Soviet socialism.”

The Chairman looked dissatisfied. Stalin said that he would later consult with the Politburo about Puyi's fate but we knew that this was his lie as Stalin was the Red Tsar who ruled this totalitarian state with a kind of power that turned everyone into his mindless puppets (it was not beyond belief that years later, after the consolidation of power , Mao followed in Stalin's footsteps until he was called the Red Emperor). It was obvious that the old codger had craftily used Puyi as a bargaining chip in negotiations with both Chiang and Mao all along and was now implying to Mao that he had to pay quite dearly to get the former emperor back. It was tragic that Puyi had been treated as a pawn like this even before he did not ascend the throne yet. 

The meeting finally ended , causing our embarrassment when almost nothing seemed to come to fruition. Mao's frustration was a little allayed by Stalin's promise for another meeting which was still not scheduled yet. Whether it was the next week or later , the Soviet dictator could not confirm , citing his tight schedule.

Mao bade farewell before standing up while Stalin did not even bother to move a bit let alone lead him to the door like his supposed good comrade. Everybody outside looked curious when seeing Mao's face but a plumpy woman in her thirties suddenly appeared and invited us to the nearby living room. We were not ready to leave yet and followed her without hesitation. I knew that pretty woman was the housemaid and the only trusted companion of Stalin who increasingly enjoyed the reclusive life in this dacha as his paranoia had grown worse. But some rumours swirled that while he found a solace in her motherhood , he also treated her as his mistress or sex slave. 

I thus assumed that she was one of a few people , including Stalin's beloved daughter,  in the Soviet Union who were safe from Stalin's paranoia because everyone from a naive rural peasant to a sly member of Stalin's circle could fall victim to his merciless purge and end up on either execution ground or the Gulag , labour camp with appalling conditions for living like hell on earth. She cordially greeted us in Russian and offered us the glasses of vodka from the tray she was carrying. Mao was still reeling from the battle of wits against Stalin and about to bluntly decline but Chen Boda darted to grab a glass and gave the others to our group one by one while smilingly thanking her. Mao at last could not help following everyone. 

The Chinese were then greatly delighted by Russia's favourite drink which taste was damn good -  much better than Maotai [Chinese liquor] and began to talk loudly. The Russians were nowhere to be seen except the same housemaid who was ready to serve us with endless glasses of Vodka. Some members of our group were trying to talk to her or even flirt with her but when I told them who she was , their faces became instantly pale and they tried to keep their distance from her which made me almost burst out laughing.  I really liked her infectious smile and courtesy but was dismayed that the Russians were comforting us like the children who had just been turned down by their parents after asking for a fancy bicycle. 

Mao really enjoyed drinking. His faint smile and red face showed that his disgruntlement gradually vanished after finishing another drink but he still refused to talk about what had happened in Stalin's study room , so everyone pestered me to do so. Knowing that this place was replete with the bugging devices , I turned into Pravda , the newspaper or the mouthpiece of the Communist Party of Soviet Union, by lavishing praise for this meeting’s success as the beginning of the wonderful relationship between the 2 countries. Everyone applauded with pleasantness , hoping to return to China as soon as possible. 

“Success , my foot !” Mao angrily interjected. “We still have to wait here indefinitely for another meeting with Stalin !” 

The uncomfortable silence then fell in the room.

                  4

A library in Beijing , 1946

“There you are !” said a woman before swiftly putting several books down on my table. I was surprised that she was not my acquaintance at all but she looked so familiar. I stopped writing something in my notebook and found those books were about the Russian Empire , its culture and people's ways of life which I had persevered in searching for an hour.

“Excuse me , Miss ! Before I will wholeheartedly thank you for this , may I know who you are ?” 

The woman in her late 30s who was quite lanky and wore thick makeup shook her head.

“You don’t have to thank me or know me. I’m a staff in this library and those books are not from me but my friend who really wants to get to know you.” 

I was stunned – who really wanted to get to know me ?

That woman boldly walked to pull another woman hiding behind a large bookshelf toward me while the later was trying so hard to resist but to no avail.

She laughingly said to her friend who looked much younger than her before leaving,

“ Xiaoli , sit down and talk with him as long as you’re pleased. Don’t worry ,  I’m mighty glad to do that duty for you this time and our old boss won’t come back soon. I’m fed up with how you’re inquisitive about him ! ” 

Xiaoli looked timid but still did not go away.  I invited her to sit down before me and learnt that she was an assistant librarian who had kept observing me for a day and wondering who I was as I once asked her colleagues about the books about Russia. As a secret member of the CCP charged with espionage in the state-run universities , I was supposed to keep my distance from her but something was telling me that this young woman was innocuous and on top of that, her gorgeous face got me spellbound. I told her that I had lived and worked as an expat in the USSR for so long before moving back to China when the war ended and now I was working as an interpreter in the Soviet Union’s embassy. But with my PhD degree in Russian studies , I would soon apply for teaching position in a university here. 

Smiling from ear to ear, Xiaoli said that she deeply fell in love with Russia and was eager to learn everything about it and her ultimate dream since she was a teenager was to travel in Moscow and Leningrad (former name was St. Petersburg) which were the most important cities. Although the Russian Empire already became the USSR , she did not mind as she also yearned to learn how the utopia or the classless society there was like (while I secretly snickered). She later lamented that her dream was pitifully dashed by the devastating invasions from the Japanese during World War 2 and followed by the second civil war. The young woman was thus so thrilled about my experiences and would like to learn them from me in the future. She all of a sudden excused herself and almost ran away , showing that she was still shy like a schoolgirl. 

I chuckled and thought about visiting this library more often.

Someone ruthlessly awakened me by shaking my shoulder with a calloused hand. I shook off the thick blanket , turned around to grab my watch on the small table near my bed and learnt that it was almost 4 o'clock in the morning. I dizzily remembered going to bed around midnight , so my not so sound sleep had just lasted for only 4 hours. Mao's bodyguard smilingly said that I was much luckier than him as he had not slept yet. Mao was still ensconced on the sofa in the study room , reading a newspaper sent straight to Moscow from China - the People's Daily , the mouthpiece of the CCP.  He chuckled and apologized when seeing me groggy but his tone seemed not to be serious like his words.  It was later revealed to me that Mao had a chronic insomnia which was from time to time acute and had also taken a severe toll on his moods : depression and paranoia like Stalin. Those also would have the enormous impacts on the tumultuous politics of China 2 decades later as his power was so paramount like the Cultural Revolution which would cost the millions of lives of the Chinese. 

Despite being haggard,  Mao was now in desperate need of a companion for a talk. But the vexing questions echoed in my mind :  did I have to torture myself by listening to his endless prattle like on the train when I was just his interpreter not secretary or comrades-in-arms in his party like Zhou Enlai or Liu Shaoqi who knew him profoundly ? Why did he not wake up Chen Boda ? But in reality I just nodded and sat on the chair in stride but was quite relieved to find a cup of strong black coffee already prepared on the table. The electric heater made in the Soviet Union was working marvellously to protect us from such horrible, cold weather even though we should have tucked ourselves under the thick blankets.

He said,

"No hard feelings ! I dragged you out of the bed in the wee small hours since you're the first person I always think of. Professor, what were you dreaming of when my man woke you up ?"

I smiled bitterly.

"My wife , Chairman Mao. I haven't met her except her voice for weeks."

He laughed , showing no remorse.

"Really ? You'd better blame Stalin ! If he had been much nicer to me , accepting me as his fellow revolutionary, we'd have gone back to China and you'd have kissed your wife in Beijing within days !"

Mao sneered to see my awkward smile and then started to ramble on how he had been antagonized by Stalin yesterday. I interrupted him by asking about bugging devices in this room but he laughed and said that he had had his men search every nook and cranny of this room but found nothing. The Russians must had known our wariness and avoided causing more hostility from us. The Chairman said that he should have believed my reports before leaving China that Stalin distrusted him. He assumed that those papers were just from the unfounded speculations but he was wrong. The Soviet dictator was afraid that he would follow in the footsteps of Josip Broz Tito , the strongman of Yugoslavia , who did not bow to the influence of the USSR . The difference of their ideas was another factor. Stalin wondered why Mao had depended on peasants as a revolutionary base whereas he considered urban workers much more reliable. 

Mao fumed,

"That old man didn't know our country at all. What a shame that he has kept an eye on it for decades !  We're still a backward agricultural country with a tiny number of urban workers not like Russia.  But I believe that someday , with my genius plan of rapid development of industry [the Great Leap Forward] , we will someday keep pace with his country and even America and finally surpass every country in the world ! That dotard can’t imagine what the great country with more than 500 million men and women like us can do."

I nodded and thought that at last Stalin's paranoia was not completely irrational. Mao was actually the closeted Tito. 

   The Chairman said ,

"Since you know him well, what is your advice for us to do next ?"

I alarmingly found my position strangely shifting from his interpreter to his political advisor which was not a blessing for me since after this job, I intended to go back to quietly teach in my university - no more politics ! A wild imagination suddenly struck me : I bluntly told Mao that it was his wrong decision to stay in Moscow like a pushover instead of pretentiously leaving for Beijing to lure Stalin into a game of chicken since China was strategically important for the USSR. I then dared lambast him that he begrudgingly chose the first for fear that this visit would be criticized as a blunder and he would lose his face. I was however so glad that I managed to keep this imagination in my head.  Like normal narcissistic leaders, Mao's tolerance for criticism was extremely low.The intellectuals across China were currently urged to abstain from criticizing the new regime otherwise the secret police would visit their house. In the middle of the 50s , Mao changed this kind of oppressive policy and urged writers , teachers and university lecturers to openly voice their ideas and criticism against the communist party under the Hundred Flowers Campaign. But when their disapprovals of the party were gone too far , Mao silenced them and struck back with the Anti-Right Campaign by sending a million of those patriotic guys to work in either countryside or labour camps. 

I pondered before saying, 

"Just wait and see how they will play with our heads but it would be brilliant if we audaciously show them that our patience is quite low and our abrupt return to China at any time would mean catastrophic to them." 

Mao grinned like he agreed but looked increasingly tired. His bodyguard walked into the room and offered him the sleeping pills but the Chairman refused and changed the topic. 

" Your wife's working at Beijing's People Library , correct ? "

I smilingly nodded.

" Of course , Chairman Mao. She has been working there as a librarian for roughly 10 years now."

I then boldly asked Mao about his wife in return. He looked a bit shocked but burst into laughter.

" It's funny that nobody has asked me about my wife for a long time even my comrades in the party. Should I be infuriated by your such an impertinent question ? But I admire you for being my good companion while meeting that old codger yesterday , I will let it slide this time. Jiang Qing is all right although our love seems to cool down a bit , different from the early 40s and that's ordinary for a husband and wife who had lived together for a decade , isn't it ?"

The Chairman mumbled and became absent-minded for a while like he seemed not to believe his own words. He was later too drowsy to communicate with me , so his bodyguard managed to urge him to take the sleeping pills before going to bed and I was allowed to go back to sleep. But it was not that easy when plenty of things kept swirling in my mind.

Why did Mao ask me about Xiaoli ? Would he raise her salary or give some benefits to my family ? If so ,  I would permanently become one of his entourages whom he would exploit in the name of political advisor or close confident. This was also the reason why he helped defend me against Stalin's curiosity about my survival from that carnage.

I then came to think about Mao's wives , it became a part of his cult of personality and the state's propaganda , but it was actually tumultuous like Henry the 8th , king of England and his 6 wives. Mao's first wife was from an arranged marriage by his domineering father which was later not recognized and denounced by Mao as a part of the old China . The government praised him as a libelous teenager at that time who was destined to change China.  Mao's second and third wives were both the comrades in the communist party who had joined Mao in the civil wars against Kuomintang . The second became a martyr after being executed by Chiang's soldiers and the third had mental problems and divorced Mao after a long estrangement but the government blamed her schizophrenia for their marriage's failure. 

Mao's forth wife , Jiang Qing, was one of the most notorious (or sinister) women in Chinese history. She had been an actress in Shanghai before joining the communist party.  Her beauty captivated Mao's heart and despite the vehement objections from his comrades , he was married to her in 1938.  Jiang had secretly held a grudge and afterwards taken revenge on them especially during the Cultural Revolution as she was the head of Gang of Four , the most radical and dangerous group, who was behind numerous deaths. And something came across my mind : there was lately a rumour that she was estranged with Mao. I thus slapped my own face :  in the study room I unwittingly asked Mao about her like his curiosity about my wife but it turned out it had unsettled him and he unbelievably forgave me.

I now realized how I had unwittingly brought myself into jeopardy. I might have been severely punished which was much worse than working as Mao's pawn. But finally, I could shut my eyes since this was all in the past and I would be much more careful from now on.

.............................................

It was possible that one of the persons who had counted the days with the most restlessness in the world was Mao. He always paced up and down in his dacha all day like a tiger in its cage. But he occasionally fell ill and became bedridden while the Soviet government stated in the public that cold weather was the culprit not his nervous breakdown. Stalin sent the doctors to visit him one after another and they were accompanied by Stalin's different henchmen as if to double-check Mao's real health condition. The first one was the second most powerful and fearsome person in this country - Lavrentiy Beria , the overall supervisor of Soviet secret police and intelligence agencies. His stature was comically opposite - diminutive and bald , so it was obvious that his greediness for power aimed to compensate for it. When I worked as the lecturer in a university in Moscow , Beria was rumoured to prowl along the streets to abduct the pretty women at night and rape them at his headquarters.

The next one was the rising star in Stalin’s circle : Nikita Khrushchev , the secretary of the Central Committee,  who was a rival of Beria. When Khrushchev first met Mao who was lying on the bed , they had the cordial talks like the good old friends. But I had no clues that the fat and bald man would someday become the Soviet supreme leader right after Stalin and bitterly fall out with Mao as a result of his speech to denounce Stalin, the de- Stalinization , 3 years after the old codger's death. But for Beria , he was arrested by his distrustful fellows and executed months after Stalin had passed away.

Zhou Enlai told Mao via telephone that the Politburo in Beijing was also upset to see Stalin's psychological manipulation like this as China was still in the great transformation , facing a heap of problems and needed Mao to return as his leadership would boost morale of the party cadres and the PLO (People' s Liberation Army) as they had been planning to invade Tibet before the western countries would purportedly do that. Zhu De , the Commander-in-Chief of the PLA, was so desperate to talk to Mao face to face. But the Chairman insisted that he would not leave without meeting Stalin again and signing the new treaty with the USSR which he believed was hugely beneficial to China.

I became Mao's de facto secretary and companion while everyone including Ye Zilong , his real secretary, seemed to be delighted with that. Talking with the Chairman was such a tiresome burden as he was so domineering , self-centred and cynical. It was true that Mao's circle had to ingratiate themselves with him but it would be a great relief if someone who was quite naïve like me became their substitute for some time or many times. Mao killed time by writing articles and poems for the China's Daily before some of them would be included in the 'Little Red Book' , the most popular book in Chinese history and the spiritual guide for the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution. He always asked for my ‘proper’ criticisms and I had attempted to avoid either flattering or criticizing him , knowing that he would be agitated, which was extremely difficult thanks to his gift for reading people's minds. The Chairman finally concluded that I was not willing enough to help him write his book. 

And disturbingly , Mao had from time to time chided me for my political ideas which he considered ‘unrealistic’  or ‘too bourgeois’ and also demanded my mild self-criticism which would please him tremendously to see the intellectual like me demean myself. I could do nothing but smile wryly and hoped that our conversation would end at any minute. I then realized the main reason why he and Stalin could not tolerate one another : they both needed someone who was diametrically different from them and pandered to their gigantic egos and irksome demands. Imagine Stalin laying his head on his mistress’ lap near the fireplace in his dacha and wailing for her kiss and cuddle like a wrinkled old baby - what a view ! 

Khrushchev comically trudged through the snow to visit us and informed us that tomorrow was Stalin’s birthday which would be spectacularly celebrated throughout the Soviet Union and the supreme leader gladly invited Mao to join the grand gala with him at the Bolshoi Theatre in the evening. After Stalin's rotund henchman left , Mao looked delighted. Having met the failure of their first meeting , he seemed to forget Stalin’s birthday until Khrushchev came. He said to our group that we would curry favour with Stalin with a fancy birthday present and our emotional wishes for something he most desired : his immortality or domination over the world. Everybody clapped cheerfully like they were a football team ready to square off with an opponent.

 [Caution ! This paragraph is extremely fictitious. The ultimate reason for Mao’s journey to Moscow in the middle of December in 1949 was to attend Stalin’s birthday ceremony.] 

Mao said to me ,

“Besides, the old codger seems to admire you , so you must try to help me win over him and we all can go home even the day after tomorrow !” 

5

Amidst the strong light from the large chandeliers above , I had never expected to witness a surrealistic and thrilling event like this. I was now sitting in this sumptuous gala which was mostly attended by the communist world's top leaders whose faces I used to see merely on the newspapers. While living in Moscow, I had attended Stalin's birthday in the public ceremony every year. Every place like the government offices and even the bakeries was closed while the people thronged the squares to sing and pay tribute to their aging leader in front of his portraits which were highly revered like God. All the foreigners like me observed this in astonishment and also had to humbly pay respect to those portraits en masse.

For the Soviet citizens who had been walking on streets , they would proudly say that Stalin was their benevolent and sagacious leader.  But in the dark alleys someone would sigh before saying that he was the tyrant who was behind their unbearable sufferings and the massacres of more than millions of his people via Gulags and collectivization which led to numerous devastating famines . But how could they do anything when the secret police nationwide were more than ready to arrest anyone who showed not enough enthusiasm towards the auspicious day like this ?

As soon as Stalin and his entourages stepped into the colossal hall of Bolshoi theatre , the hall immediately resounded with the thunderous applause and hurrahs. They were farcically unstoppable when nobody dared stop clapping first which might display a sign of disloyalty and land them in deep water. Stalin sat down on the chair before shaking hands with Mao who was sitting beside him. I was sitting behind Mao , ready to translate anything from their mouths. Mao had wished Stalin the happy birthday in a flat voice before Stalin thanked him curtly and both of them were in silence -what a beautiful friendship !  It was also regrettable that our precious present was kept among those from other attendees for the thorough checks by Stalin’s bodyguards. The old codger unexpectedly turned his head around to seemingly smile at me. I just politely nodded.

It was Stalin's ploy to allow Mao to sit beside him which would make him proud of such a great honour despite those days of humiliations. But Mao was not the only foreign leader when Walter Ulbricht, the leader of East Germany, was also sitting on the other side of Stalin and beside him was Khrushchev. Their photos would also be in the state's propaganda to show off to the world that the countries in the communist bloc were enjoying their comraderies. It however might backfire a bit thanks to Mao's unsuppressed sulky face beside Stalin , giving the West a hint about a pretentious relationship between the 2 leaders. 

Stalin magnificently waved his hand to everyone in the hall to stop clapping but there were still some attendees trying to do it later than anyone. The master of ceremony introduced to everyone the gala which meant the 10 straight minutes of lavishing praise to Stalin, followed by the leaders of many countries in the communist bloc to go to the podium to deliver the tributes as the unashamed flatteries to Stalin one by one. Mao was one of them and I wondered after my translation whether his speech would impress Stalin more than of those foreign leaders. Stalin mostly exuded delights rousing my curiosity whether he knew those leaders had been pampering him with the sweet lies. He might be pretending to do so or thinking that they were all real which meant he was having a great delusion.

I did not know how long I had been absent-minded but was pulled back to the world by the larger-than-life music and cantata by Dmitry Shostakovich , the renowned music composer, giving everyone the large goosebumps. But I felt sorry for such an idealistic composer like him to overpraise Stalin just to escape from political maelstrom. But being among those sinful people, especially Mao and Stalin,  I became less and less guilty for betraying my society in Manchukuo. I had done it for survival just like the maestro , not for power or greediness. After this work , if my secret was not dug up, I would move on with a peaceful mind.

The program obviously exhilarating Stalin most was the children in black and white attire of communist youth gathering to gush about their good life and future under Stalin's regime. At the end,  the gorgeous girl humbly walked to give Stalin a bouquet of flower and made him blush with her kiss and embrace, causing brouhahas and loud applause in the hall. I was appalled by this :  the families of those children had been long suffering under Stalin's regime. The parents of some of them were even sent to Gulags or be executed. I knew that they were perfectly aware of this and hence the top-notch performance to save their own skins. 

After the ceremony ended , Stalin did not leave yet and just loitered to talk and trade jokes with the cohort of communist leaders who were attempting to court his favour. But the old codger avoided talking about a military and economic assistance which was their ultimate desire like he was controlling a game. Mao was standing awkwardly near Stalin, trying to smile and shake hands with those leaders who were also excited to fraternize with him as the rising star from behind the bamboo curtain. Mao quipped later that perhaps they were gawking at him like he was a giant panda. 

When those sycophantic leaders were gone, Mao began to talk to Stalin,

“Comrade Stalin , I think we need to have a formal meeting again.”

Stalin still looked sluggish , nodding but still talking to one of his men about something. The old codger then cited again his schedule constraints.

Mao said ,

“Our group has a problem ..”

And pointed his finger at me.

“  My men , especially Professor , are terribly suffering from a long separation from their families .Would you please have mercy on them ?”      

Stalin burst out laughing and looked at me.

“Yes, Professor.  During the ceremony you looked visibly absent-minded. I wondered what you were thinking during this ceremony. Reminiscing about your wife ?” 

I stammered a bit,

" No ..... I w ..was in awe of this ceremony. It was so spectacular , Comrade Stalin. I think this gala shows that everybody profoundly reveres and loves you like the father of this country and the entire socialist world , propelling the gala to the absolute perfection which will dazzle the world for generations along with your glory and fame.”

Stalin however muttered some word which sounded like :

"Chush (bullshit !) "

And he said,

" It is not about those shows. I want you to be honest with me right now !"

Like his words : even though while I did not perform my duty , the old codger had secretly observed me all along ( I wondered how) and even known that my feelings were quite different from the people around - another fearsome mind reader. 

Suddenly , it was as if I were being possessed , I said,

" Yes , you’re very right !  Whenever I feel bored , I will always think about my wife and our dates almost 4 years ago , especially the time we had just got acquainted . I remember an afternoon , she and I had a picnic near the lake in my university alone , totally alone like we were the last couple on earth and the roof above our heads was just the leafy tree which had prevented us from a strong sunlight. My record player nearby was playing Gustav Mahler's 5th Symphony which was so fabulous if you listen to it while watching the rippled surface of the lake which glistened with sunlight like the pieces of gold below. We enjoyed talking and laughing all the time. I exactly remember everything about her : what hairstyle she had , what colour her blouse was and how she was fondling her own arm which had aroused my desire. She all of a sudden laid her hand on mine and confessed that she deeply fell for me and we finally passionately kissed.."

Stalin was dumbfounded and then mumbled ,

"Was it that good?"

I nodded.

"Yes , Comrade Stalin. For me , it's one of the best moments which I'll cherish until the end of my life. It's not my exaggeration that those minutes were like an eternity."

The old codger frowned and trembled. Without a single word,  he briskly walked away to the exit followed by the long queue of his henchmen. Mao was perplexed , asking me about my lengthy confession and I straightforwardly told him every word. Instead of throwing a tantrum,  Mao became only solemn and said that we should wait and see as he thought perhaps it was better than shamefully licking Stalin’s boots like those communist leaders. The Soviet dictator might have been impressed with my frankness , improving our relationship in a quirky way. Like Mao , Stalin’s love life was one of his weaknesses : his first wife died of typhus after a brief marriage and his second wife committed suicide with a pistol aimed at her heart in their bedroom after a brief bitter argument with him. The Soviet authority stated that it was an illness that killed her.

The next day we had still anxiously awaited the reaction from the Kremlin,  but nothing happened. Mao lashed out at me , saying that my sentimentalism might have agitated Stalin and he would continue to torment him. I was irritated and said bluntly for the first time that if this were my blunder , I should have been sent back to China for punishment in the hope that my alienated days in Russia would be over. Mao laughed aloud , saying that my punishment was to be with him until the next meeting with Stalin. I doubted that he was afraid that the new guy would never be able to replace me as his good and savvy companion. Or was he planning to purge me when we returned to Beijing ?

As the days went on , the notable news on the newspapers was always about the absences of Stalin in various occasions even the state ceremonies , which was unprecedented. The government said that it was due to his undisclosed illness but Mao believed that my words had something to do with that. When our fate in Russia became more precarious,  the Chairman got increasingly frustrated and one day shouted furiously at Stalin's man that he had not come here to eat , sleep and shit. I assumed that he was on the verge of nervous breakdown but was glad that he stopped blaming me for this mishap. I also tried to console him but he became more and more aloof from everyone.

Stalin therefore showed his mercy by sending his men to take Mao and our group to tour in the factories and the farms on the outskirts of Moscow under the slogan ' to witness the grandeur of Soviet socialism' , but Mao regarded this goodwill as a bluff. The exalted Russian culture was another way they tried to impress us with. We were brought to watch the music concerts including an opera by Pyotr Tchaikovsky - Eugene Onegin and visit the grand exhibition about the ways of lives of the minor ethnics apart from Russians. But these did not appease Mao much like they had expected.

Zhou Enlai became a knight in shining armour when he hastily arrived in Moscow in January. The Premier then had used his superb skill to negotiate with the Soviet government to pave the way for the next meeting and the new treaty but the ultimate decision maker like Stalin had still annoyingly procrastinated. 

Mao called for an urgent meeting one evening in the mid-February. Zhou looked around everybody and stopped at me. The members of our group must have apprised him of what had happened since our arrival last year.

He said,

"Chairman Mao, do you agree that we will send Professor Zang as our representative to meet with Stalin ?"

I interrupted.

" Premier Zhou ,  I beg to differ ! I’m afraid that the Russians will be very offended when we propose to send a lowly officer like me to meet their supreme leader. I'm just the interpreter! Why is it not you when you're the prime minister ?”

Zhou simply grinned and looked at Mao. The latter hesitated for a while before ordering his secretary to type a letter to Stalin’s secretariat office despite my protest. Mao told me that we had to try a new way : Zhou in the eyes of Stalin almost meant nothing like Mao himself.  In the  late morning of the next day Georgy Malenkov , Stalin’s another henchman , rushed to inform us that Stain agreed to another meeting with Mao and also Zhou soon but on the condition that our group had to change the interpreter immediately and the Russian implied that I had to leave Moscow. Mao was ecstatic while being curious about Stalin’s motive , still he had no choice. Another colleague of mine who was also fluent in Russian would arrive in Moscow this evening by plane. Mao suggested that I should stay for a while to brief him on many stuffs but Zhou said that was not necessary as that guy had been prepared for a long time in case I became unexpectedly ‘unavailable’.

I now realized that Stalin hated me but it was fine as long as he did not arrest me and send me to spend years in his Gulag. I bade farewell to everyone and wished them the best of luck. Outside I looked saddened but inside I almost jumped in the air and hurrahed at the top of my lungs- I was going home ! The last person whom I shook hands with was Mao. I was deeply moved to see that he looked quite despondent like his best friend was departing and invited me to Zhongnanhai sometimes. His cordiality was so genuine that I was quite certain that he would forgive me if I sensationally confessed my grave sin to him. But I finally thought I should keep it that way. 

When I returned to Beijing as the only passenger on the plane , Xiaoli was waiting for me at the airport before we would both tearfully and tightly embrace. That night I told her while we were cuddling that I was so happy to live with an angel tonight , not with those evils who had almost gobbled up my soul alive. She giggled and told me that she was relieved that my secret remained intact and I was also not harmed by Mao who she thought was a lunatic. The young woman also was curious why Stalin did not want to meet me again but I only smiled. Several days later all the Chinese were in a festive mood to learn that the new treaty between the USSR and the PRC was signed which meant China would receive enormous military and financial assistance - much more than any satellite state of the USSR ever received. The black and white picture of Mao standing near Stalin and watching Zhou signing the treaty at the table was on every newspaper in China which became nerve-racking for the West indeed. I later received a handsome pay and a little privilege from the government which profusely thanked me for my good work. 

One day Xiaoli called me while I was busy typing in my study room. The 2 officers from the Soviet embassy showed up at our house and gave me a box. It contained a little crystal ball with a picture of a small lake and a leafy tree and a postcard with a picture of the Kremlin. Behind it was a cramped handwriting :

You son of a bitch ! You make me think about her all the time but thank you anyway.

                                                            J. Stalin

I smiled broadly. I finally knew the reason why Stalin forced Mao to change the interpreter. He was afraid to see me again since I would remind him of his own moment with his late wife , the first one whom he always said that was the love of his life. Perhaps both his and my experience miraculously resembled one another , who knew ? After all , he was secretly grateful for me. Did he eventually allow another meeting with Mao because of my 'sentimentalism' after such a long procrastination ? That was a big puzzle : I could not conclude whether Hideyoshi's prediction about me was right. But another thing I was certain about : Stalin also did envy me that I still could relish that experience with the woman I loved over and over again whereas he was only the paranoid old dictator who lived in the dacha almost alone while being tormented by those sweet memories like a noble man who was cursed to live a lonely life in castle for eternity - an European tale. 

I went to visit Mao at Zhongnanhai the next day and showed Stalin’s present to him. The Chairman who held the power over life and death of 500 millions of people burst into laughter and then laughed crazily almost incessantly until I could see the tiny tears in his eyes.

                             The End