combed up like the horns of a sheep and tied up with brown rubber bands. She had thick eyelashes. She spoke to me but did not look at me. I stared at her moving mouth. I did not understand why she did not look at me. Her Mandarin was more than correct. She articulated each syllable making sure the “er” sound found its way into all the sentences. She spoke “dee-fang” (place) as “dee-er.” She said she was a journalist from the
She stopped, raised her head, looked at me. She said that it was difficult to describe herself. She gave a fabulous smile at Soviet Wong and asked her to help with the words. She said to Soviet Wong, You are the only one who knows me best. Soviet Wong looked pleased. She said Cheering Spear was a modest youth that everyone should learn from. Learn enthusiasm, learn healthy thinking, learn honesty from her.
Sure, I said. I moved to the third one in the rank. She was thin, wearing a golden-yellowish cotton shirt. She introduced herself as Little Bell. She said her father was a soldier who was an orphan before the Liberation. He was sold to a public bath station to work for the rich as a foot massager, she said. It was in his miserable memory of the past that I grew up. I don’t think I am beautiful, she said. I really don’t. Good looks don’t make a person beautiful. She made a shy smile toward Sound of Rain, who was staring at her. Please forgive my shyness, she said. Little Bell lowered her head, smoothing her hair down with her fingers.
Very well expressed, Little Bell, Sound of Rain said in a low muffled voice that sounded as if it came from a jar. Good looks don’t make a person beautiful. The matter is not about how you look, it is about how your looks can serve the proletarian purpose. This is said by our Supervisor from Beijing. I asked who was the Supervisor. Sound of Rain replied that he was the one who was solely responsible for Comrade Jiang Ching. A great genius of arts, he said.
When Sound of Rain mentioned the word “Supervisor,” everyone’s expression all of a sudden filled with deep respect. I immediately sensed the man’s importance. When someone in this country was called by his title instead of his name, he was beyond general importance. For example, Mao was called the Chairman, and Chou, the Premier. The omission of the last name displayed the power of the persona.
The fourth woman spoke. Her name was Bee OhYang. I did not see threat on this face. It was a face of innocence, a face lacking knowledge, a face of purity. She said she wished she were like her name. By that she meant a bee had a sharp thorn, but she did not. I lack a fighting spirit. I’d like to learn to correct my spirit. She said she was from an old village in the South. All the villagers had one surname, OhYang. The village was poor. It produced nothing but babies. I am the glory of the village. But I say that I belong to the Party. My mind, my heart and soul. As she spoke, tears welled up. She was moved by her own words. Bee was a dark-skinned beauty. She had a sculptural look, a full mouth, melon-seed-shaped face, shining short hair cut to the earlobe. Her heavy southern accent made her Mandarin hard to comprehend.
The room was sunny. It smelled of wood mold. There were five beds all hung with mosquito nets. My thoughts went to Yan and our mosquito net.
It is very nice, I said. I wish I had arrived earlier to help with the cleaning. That is fine, said Soviet Wong. You will have plenty of opportunities to make up for it. Ha, ha. Everyone in the room cheered.
From tomorrow on, Sound of Rain said, you will have to learn everything from scratch, including walking, talking, eating and expressing, because-he made a long pause-because only one of you will be finally chosen for China’s new screen. It is the last competition you have to go through. You will have a year to perform at your best. The Supervisor will make his decision after that.
We were taken to a hospital for a medical checkup. The doctors acted secretively. I was put in a room and I undressed. The lower part of my body was being checked by three women doctors. A big woman doctor put on rubber gloves and carefully inspected my private parts. A few minutes later the big woman took off her rubber glove and recorded something in her notebook. The other two women let their grips loosen and allowed me off the bed. No word was said as they shuffled out. When I was taken out of the room, I saw Little Bell weeping. I was about to go up to her but was signaled back by Firewood. Firewood said in my ear that they had doubts about whether she was a virgin.
The whole afternoon we read Mao’s talks on the arts. I was bored but feigned interest. We sat in a circle. Read and read. At dinner I ordered two bowls of noodles. Soviet Wong showed me the correct way to hold chopsticks. A discussion was held after dinner in our room. The girls talked about how important Mao’s work was as our guide to the future. Little Bell was happy again. She was considered still a virgin after a serious record check. Sound of Rain and Soviet Wong yawned but did not leave until crickets sang loudly in the yard. The door slammed behind them. The smell of mold grew stronger.
We washed ourselves by the sink and poured the water into the grass. A cricket followed me as I came back into the room. Cheering Spear went to turn off the light. The cricket began to sing excitedly in the room. Cheering Spear got up holding a flashlight to search for it. I heard her foot tap five times. She shut the cricket up. The room became deadly quiet. In the dark I realized that it was a lion’s den I had entered. The darkness silenced a roaring cry. The coldness of thoughts froze me. I could hear the sound of my dream’s spine breaking. I knew that I had to succeed so I would be able to help Yan one way or another in the future. With that thought I drifted into sleep.
I was awakened by the noise of someone exercising her voice outside the window. It was six in the morning. I got up and stepped outside. The dog-tail grass swayed in the rising sunshine. With one hand behind her ear, Firewood pushed her voice until it cracked. We said good morning to each other and I heard her voice crack again. Firewood told me that she was frustrated by her voice. She asked me if I could show her my voice. I said, We are not going to be trained to serve the opera troupes, are we? Firewood slid down into a split. She did not answer me as her facial muscles twisted in pain. Do you know Comrade Jiang Ching? Firewood asked. I looked at her, I looked at that proud face. I knew the question need not be answered. Firewood swung her torso left and right. I know a little thing about her, she said, bending toward me. She likes to watch western movies, especially American Hollywood movies. What are Hollywood movies? I asked. Firewood gave me a secret smile, then went back to her exercises.
I leaned my head backward and stretched my arms toward the wall. It surprised me to see three figures standing behind me. My other roommates-Cheering Spear, Little Bell and Bee OhYang-had been listening to the conversation. I made a friendly smile at them. They spread out and started stretching their limbs.
A guard stopped sweeping leaves by the gate with a broom made of bamboo and walked over to our little house. He was a middle-aged man with a dark beard. His name was One Ounce. He said, Sound of Rain sent me to tell you to get ready. You are going to be inspected by the Supervisor.
We put on outfits that would make a good first impression. Firewood put on another vermilion shirt and sea- blue navy trousers. Cheering Spear dug out a garment printed with square patterns. Bee OhYang took out two slightly different-colored white shirts and tried to make up her mind. I decided to wear my old uniform, the one given to me by Yan.
We sat in the room by our beds, all dressed up, waiting. The temperature in the room rose with the sun. I saw a lump of muddy stuff in the corner under Cheering Spear’s bed. It was the body of the cricket that had followed me into the room last night. It was motionless on the floor.
Cheering Spear was standing by the door, where a little mirror hung. Looking at herself in the mirror, she played with her hairpins. She tried to curl her bangs. Her face displayed her ambition. She took a cotton ball and rubbed a pimple underneath her nose. She rubbed back and forth, moving her features up and down.
