aren't as senior who live in apartment blocks and detached houses? Isn't that corrupt?' I say I don't feel bad, I'm not nearly as good as Eighth Route Army veterans. During the Red Army's Long March, during the fight against the Japanese, living off corn cakes, they went up to the front line in the middle of the night, and they never knew who would live and who would die. Tough times for me meant kipping down on the floor at three in the morning, but I did get three meals a day, and at least I could eat my fill. Those veterans never got enough to eat.
XINRAN: If you had enough time left, and energy and money, what would you most like to do?
JINGGUAN: Have a nice meal with my wife. After all, she might wake up at any time, no one can tell for sure. I don't want not to be at her side the day she wakes up, or she'd never stop telling me off. I've said to my two daughters, I can look after myself now, I can make my own breakfast when I get up. If you make the midday meal that's fine, but if you don't, that's fine too, I can make my own dinner, I can do simple things for myself, and it's good that I can.
XINRAN: What would you wish for your children?
JINGGUAN: They're grown up. The youngest is nearly fifty, so there's nothing more in prospect for them. They haven't benefited from me being a policeman. I've always been upright, and I have a clear conscience, but they've suffered for that. If I'd followed the crowd and used my power and influence, they wouldn't still be factory workers. Sometimes when I think about that, I feel bad…
Well, I must go and feed my wife, she has to have her meals on time, otherwise she might get stomach problems.
While Mr Jingguan and his youngest daughter prepared his wife's 'tube food', I interviewed their elder daughter.
XINRAN: What is the strongest impression you have of your mother?
ELDER DAUGHTER: That she could not be disobeyed. There was always so much to do in the house, and she did an eight-hour shift in the factory too, and got us to school. It seemed like Mum never slept, she was always out buying food, cooking, washing, making clothes. She did the night shift, then in the morning came home and cooked and did the housework. She just slept a bit after lunch when she was doing that shift. Just an hour or two, and she'd get up and get busy looking after us and the house. Then every evening, she'd be off to work. It was really tough.
XINRAN: If your mum could hear, what would you like to say to her?
ELDER DAUGHTER: What I want to say is: 'Thank you, Mum, for working so hard for us all those years. When you should have been able to put your feet up and enjoy life, you weren't able to. Your children are grown up now, but you've had no opportunity to enjoy life…'
At this, she started sobbing. Her younger sister came into the room for something, and seeing her tears, gave the things to her and indicated that she should go and help her father with feeding her mother. Then she turned to me.
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: 'I'll answer your questions, shall I? We all have to share the burden, otherwise we wouldn't be able to bear what's happened to our mum.
XINRAN: Thank you for your understanding and your courage. Tell me, where do you work?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: I had a job in Zhengzhou Recycling, but I was laid off. I'm at home all day, and I come here to look after my mother. I was laid off twelve years ago, and I haven't worked in all that time.
XINRAN: Do you know about your father's and grandparents' early lives?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: I don't have any memories of my grandparents. I was only three years old when my grandmother died.
XINRAN: Do you know about the sad times in your father's youth?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: They were so poor then. I've heard my father talk about how the family was very poor and it was all down to him to support them, because my grandfather died young.
XINRAN: Do you sometimes wish you knew more about your grandparents?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: I don't really know, I've never thought about it.
XINRAN: How old is your child?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: Twenty-three.
XINRAN: Do you think your child understands what your father's life has been like?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: They don't understand anything. Our generation are better than they are. They just spend their time knocking back good food and drink, and they don't have a care in the world.
XINRAN: Do you think your father's life has been worthwhile?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: I haven't thought about it. Sometimes it's unbearable.
XINRAN: What do you mean by 'unbearable'?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER:… I can't explain it… Dad looks on the bright side – he always says it's much better now than in the old society, what did we get to eat back then? There's plenty to eat and drink now, so we should count ourselves lucky!
XINRAN: Do you agree with him?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: My generation has been unlucky too, but our lives are much better than my mum and dad's were.
XINRAN: Why has your generation been unfortunate?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: We were born during the Great Leap Forward, 1958 to 1962, the years of natural disasters and there was nothing to eat. When we went to school, it was the Cultural Revolution and education stopped. We had to work and we were sent off to the countryside. When we married and had children, they came up with the 'single child' policy. My child had just started school, and we lost our jobs, across the board, everyone without a diploma or qualifications was laid off. Now we're old, and there's been a reform of pensions and medical insurance, and we don't qualify. It seems as if the whole of government policy is against our generation.
XINRAN: I'm from the generation that 'got on the wrong bus' too, so I know about the misfortunes you've mentioned and understand your feelings, but I think we still have some of that 'relative happiness' that your father talked about, don't you? At least we haven't come up against war and starvation.
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: That's why we've never blamed my father, even though he's been so just and honourable in his work that we never got any of the advantages in life and work that the children of most senior cadres do. We also sympathise with him. He's old and my mother's become a vegetable, and he's afraid to leave the flat because he thinks she might wake up at any time, and would be angry if he wasn't there. So he never goes out. The most he'll do is sit in the doorway sometimes. And he hasn't even got anyone to talk to!
XINRAN: All these years, he's never been out?
YOUNGER DAUGHTER: Never. He's very good to my mum. He says he didn't look after us as children, or take any interest in the housework, she handled everything. She never wanted him bothered by all that, and it wasn't easy bringing us up. Mum never got to enjoy life for a single day, she just became a vegetable. My father feels terribly sorry about that.
The flat was so cramped that, with the cameras we'd set up, there was only enough room for the person who was looking after the patient, the person who was being interviewed and me. Everyone else had to wait outside. So when I had finished interviewing Mr Jingguan's younger daughter, I went out to look for him, to say thank you and goodbye.
I went down the stairs, which were so dimly lit you could see nothing at all, and as I emerged into the brightness outside, I saw the old man seated on a rickety old chair, reading a newspaper in the sunlight. With the
