High Place Meet: A Collection of Excerpts from The Weekly Standard

Author: / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-06-01
Features: Why Did I Have to Send Jiang Jieshi Back to Nanjing After the Xi'an Incident? (December 9, 1936, marked the first anniversary of the December 9th Movement, when students in Xi'an launched a protest. That night, Zhang Xueliang told Jiang Jieshi, "There is no other way to deal with these students except with machine guns." It was this statement that triggered the Xi'an Incident. Later, Jiang Jieshi finally said, "I will not suppress the Communists and will cooperate with the Communist Party." Zhang Xueliang then decided to release Jiang Jieshi and personally escort him back to maintain the leader's prestige. Jiang's wife was deeply moved by Zhang's actions and said it was like giving the country an invaluable Christmas gift. But this Santa Claus never returned. On December 26, 1936, noon, Jiang Jieshi promised to resist Japan and returned to Xi'an safely, becoming the undisputed highest leader in the country. Zhang Xueliang was ultimately sentenced to ten years in prison, then pardoned and placed under the control of the Military Commission, leading to a life of indefinite imprisonment. Many said, "Zhang Xueliang should not have sent Jiang Jieshi back to Nanjing." This is wrong. It's not like that. I am different from others. Maybe others are like that, but I am. I am a soldier, and I am responsible for my own actions. I am responsible, even if they behead me, I am responsible. I don't care, I really don't care—it's not fake. If I go to Nanjing, they might execute me. I am like that, so after the military court trial, the presiding judge, Mr. Li Hua, said something to me that I really liked—not that I liked it, but I was very satisfied. He said this to others, not to me, but it meant something to both my father and me. He said, "You are worthy of being the son of Zhang Zuolin." (Yang Huicheng was killed by the Military Intelligence Bureau in 1949.)
I understand Yang Huicheng. Later, he associated with many people, most of whom were Communists, and was greatly influenced by them. But he really didn't understand the deep situation. I was very good friends with him, but he didn't see things as deeply. He was a good person and was willing to be seen as a patriot. He wanted to be like that. I was very sad when I killed Yang Huicheng. Even now, I don't understand why he was treated that way. I don't know, I can't say, and I can't put it like that. Was it Jiang Jieshi's idea? Or Jiang Jingguo's? Or was it done by Mao Renfeng? I don't know, I don't understand. I advised him to leave, to stop coming back. Don't come back, there's no benefit in coming back—just like me. On December 10, 1949, Jiang Jieshi and his son fled Sichuan by plane to Taiwan. Jiang Jingguo said, "The day my father returned to Taiwan was the day Liu Wenhuo and Deng Xihou publicly declared allegiance to the 'bandits.' This time, I was in a tiger's den, more dangerous than the Xi'an Incident. Between fortune and misfortune, there was no room for error. I remember this, and I still feel a sense of fear." This was the last glimpse of the mainland for the Jiangs. From then on, "the boundless land and waters, easy to part but hard to see again"! From a historical irony perspective, Jiang Jieshi's retreat to Taiwan could be seen as "out of misfortune comes fortune." Although he led the Northern Expedition, resisted Japan, and fought the civil war, and held titles such as Committee Chairman, Chairman, President, and "President," he never truly ruled all of China and constantly faced challenges to his authority from both internal and external enemies. Only in Taiwan did he enjoy absolute power and honor.
In the 1950s, Taiwan was often described as a precarious island. U.S.-Taiwan relations were the lifeline of the Nationalist authorities, and Soong Mayling remained the "foreign affairs" authority, but her political power was clearly weakening, with her greatest rival being Jiang Jingguo. The Jiangs were determined not to let the ashes of the other three families reignite in Taiwan or allow other political forces to take root on the island. Their first step was to eliminate the power of Kong Xiangxi and Song Ziyong. Kong Xiangxi and Song Ziyong lived as exiles in New York, Chen Guofu died in Taipei, and Chen Lifu sold "Chen Lifu century eggs" in Chinatown in New York. In his diaries and memoirs, Jiang Jingguo rarely mentioned his stepmother, Jiang Weiguo (with whom he had no blood relation), or his younger brother, Jiang Weiguo, and rarely spoke of his wife, Jiang Fangliang. The purpose was naturally to highlight his close relationship with his father and the significance of his succession. Unlike Soong Mayling, Jiang Jingguo's Russian wife, Jiang Fangliang, had long learned how to be a "silent" protagonist in the family. When Jiang Jingguo became "President," Jiang Fangliang did not elevate herself to the status of a "First Lady," nor could she wear the crown of a "First Lady." Only Soong Mayling was the "eternal First Lady."
On April 5, 1975, after Jiang Jieshi's death, Jiang Jingguo no longer had any reservations. He dared to defy Soong Mayling, no longer needing her opinion, and could no longer tolerate her and the Kong siblings acting as "backseat drivers." Jiang Jieshi's personal doctor, Xiong Wan, said, "After the 'President' passed away, Mr. Jingguo took over as 'President.' At that time, he and the wife had different opinions on foreign affairs. The wife said to Mr. Jingguo, 'Fine, if you insist on your views, then you handle everything. I won't interfere, I'm leaving.'" From then on, the wife went to New York and never returned. Jiang Jingguo was a strong-willed person and always insisted on getting things done, so he didn't pay much attention to her opinions."
On September 16, 1975, noon, Soong Mayling left Taiwan for the United States on a special flight, "Sino-American." Before leaving, she published a 3,000-character "Letter Encouraging All compatriots," saying, "In recent years, I have suffered repeated family tragedies. First, my husband, Yongzhi, passed away, followed by my brother, An, and my brother, Ziyong. Last year, my sister, Ailin, was seriously ill in the United States. At the time, the 'President' was not feeling well, so he delayed his departure, but by the time he arrived, my sister was already at the point of death and we couldn't say goodbye. The bond between siblings is irreparable, and I am deeply regretful. National crisis and family sorrow have followed one after another. Two years ago, I also gradually fell ill, but I couldn't take care of myself, as the 'President's health was not good, and the medical staff were afraid of any negligence, so my heart was constantly at ease. In the past two years, I did not expect that he would finally leave me behind. After enduring great hardship and suppressing my grief for a long time, I now feel physically and mentally exhausted. I have become ill and urgently need medical attention."
No one expected that six years after Deng Lijun's sudden death, her songs would resonate even more strongly in the global Chinese community. A gentle woman, she used her legendary life to interpret music, breaking through the walls of politics and the limitations of time and space. The music continues even after the end of the song, and the sound remains even after the strings are broken. After her life departed, her musical life continued to float, striking the hearts of Chinese people around the world. From Beijing to Taipei, Hong Kong to Singapore, in karaoke bars, Deng Lijun's songs remained popular, with people competing to sing her songs and watch her image appear on the screen. Her songs like "Little Town Story" and "The Moon Represents My Heart" have become classics and legends.
In recent years, Hong Kong fans of Deng Lijun have held grand singing memorials in May, with the venues always full. When some classic songs are sung, some fans are moved to tears. To them, Deng Lijun's songs have become part of their lives. Although she is gone, her songs are not, and they continue to take on new meanings. Perhaps it was her death that brought new life to her music.
In 1995, when Deng Lijun passed away, it was actually a time when her life and music were in decline. She had retired to Thailand and lived a very low-key life. She no longer rushed from one concert to another. Fans' tastes had shifted toward faster-paced songs. Deng Lijun seemed to be gradually stepping back from the music industry, unwilling to compete in the "music martial arts." But her sudden death waves of fascination with Deng Lijun. Ordinary people suddenly realized the powerful emotional appeal of this gentle woman.
Deng Lijun's romance with the people of mainland China began in the early 1980s. After the Third Plenary Session of 1979, China entered the era of reform and opening up, and Deng Lijun's songs also entered the hearts of the Chinese people. Those tender and sweet notes washed away years of austerity. It was a "cultural revelation," with the turning point of the era. Those hearts softened by Deng Lijun's songs, and those throats that had sung too many revolutionary anthems, also found a new voice, a "non-political" melody. Of course, this was not Deng Lijun's intention. She was never very interested in political realities. Although she grew up in Taiwan, what flowed in her blood was not politics but a love for Chinese culture. Her songs, aside from love between men and women and romantic family affection, had the greatest impact on mainland China by singing classical Chinese poems, turning Tang and Song lyrics into songs that moved the soul. This perfectly compensated for the of traditional culture during the Cultural Revolution.
A new generation rediscovered an interest in traditional Chinese culture through lyrics like "How Many Times Does the Moon Rise? Wine in Hand, Asking the Blue Sky," and reignited the torch of Chinese humanistic tradition, illuminating a cultural landscape once dominated by a few model operas.
Deng Lijun's love story may be more and dramatic than the love in her songs. But whether it was the son of a wealthy businessman in Southeast Asia, the movie star Bruce Lee, or her foreign friend Paul, none could fully satisfy Deng Lijun's emotional or cultural needs. Only the sweet story of the Jiangnan small town, the charm of the small bridges and flowing water, could be truly understood and resonate with Deng Lijun's music. Therefore, the true lover of Deng Lijun was the people of mainland China. Only after enduring the twists and turns of politics and love did their hearts become so close, and their breaths so synchronized.
In the 1980s, Deng Lijun's notes were once suspected of being the sound of the Kuomintang or even pro-Japanese notes, but time proved these were great misunderstandings. Deng Lijun's singing message represented the voice of the people of mainland China. She rejected ideological labels and refused to talk about politics. She belonged to all the people of China and to the global Chinese community.
My "model opera" parents—Lan Jun, oral history
Lan Jun: Female, ballet teacher, graduated from Anhui Provincial Art School's ballet program in 1965, played "Xir" in "White-Haired Girl," and was a member of Anhui Province's "Red Detachment of Women" troupe.
A flower of the nightmare era
I joined the second batch of the national popular model opera learning class in 1970, led by military representatives to study "Red Detachment of Women" in Beijing and stayed at Xiyuan Hotel. The China Dance Theater (now the Central Ballet Troupe) taught representatives from six provinces and cities, who then spread the knowledge back to their respective regions. At that time, only four schools in the country had ballet programs, yet hundreds of "Xir" and "Hong Changqing" suddenly appeared overnight. Dancers who had previously performed folk dances like the yangge dance and errenzhuan had suddenly stood on their toes. The learning class included actors from the Tangshan shadow puppet troupe, who had never received dance training before but were now expected to perform an entire ballet. The ideology at the time was: "Without conditions, create conditions to achieve the goal." Under such nearly impossible circumstances, they trained day and night, practicing until their toenails were bruised, fell off, and their feet were full of blisters. After rehearsals, they couldn't even walk. Their feet were no longer like feet. In the end, they managed to master the entire "Red Detachment of Women" in just half a month. Of course, it could only be done by mimicking the movements, but that was already quite difficult. Looking back now, it was a very crazy thing. In that extreme era, the model opera gave me the only chance to dance ballet. But it suppressed all other art forms, with the model opera blooming alone and everywhere, becoming a phenomenon of authoritarianism, causing great damage to culture.