High Place Meet《Phoenix Weekly》Exquisite Collection

Author: Deng Kangyan, Editor-in-Chief
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's no other way to deal with these students except with machine guns." It was this statement that sparked the Xi'an Incident. Later, Jiang Jieshi finally said, "I won't suppress the Communists; I will cooperate with them." Zhang Xueliang then decided to release Jiang Jieshi and personally escort him back to maintain the leader's prestige. Jiang Jieshi's wife was deeply moved by Zhang Xueliang's actions, calling it "an invaluable Christmas gift for the nation." But this Santa Claus never returned. On December 26, 1936, noon, Jiang Jieshi pledged to resist Japan and returned to Xi'an safely, becoming the undisputed highest leader in the country. Zhang Xueliang was eventually 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 shouldn't have sent Jiang Jieshi back to Nanjing." That's wrong. You can't say that. I'm different. I'm a soldier, and I take responsibility for my own actions. I would die for it, and I don't care. I really don't care—it's not fake. If I go to Nanjing, they might execute me, and that's just how I am. So after the military trial, the presiding judge, Mr. Li Hua, said something to me that I really liked—not just liked, but was very satisfied. He said to others, not to me, but this sentence meant something to both my father and me. He said, "You are worthy of being Zhang Zuolin's son." (In 1949, Yang Huicheng was killed by military intelligence agents.)
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 depth of the situation. I was very close to him, but he didn't see things as deeply. He was a good person and wanted to be seen as a patriot. He wanted to be like that. I was very sad when Yang Huicheng was killed. Even now, I don't understand why he was treated that way. I don't know, I can't say, and I shouldn't say it—it's 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. There was no benefit to coming back. 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 Wenhu and Deng Xihou publicly declared allegiance to the 'bandits.' This time, I was entering a tiger's den, more dangerous than the Xi'an Incident. The line between fortune and misfortune was no more than a hair's breadth. I remember this, and it still gives me chills." This was the last glimpse of the mainland for the Jiangs. From then on, "the boundless realm, easy to part, hard to see again"! From a historical irony perspective, Jiang Jieshi's retreat to Taiwan could be seen as "finding fortune in misfortune." Although he led the Northern Expedition, resisted Japan, and fought civil wars, holding titles such as Committee Chairman, Chairman, President, and "President," he never truly ruled all of China and constantly faced internal and external challenges to his authority. Only in Taiwan did he enjoy absolute power and prestige.
In the 1950s, Taiwan was often described as a precarious island. U.S.-Taiwan relations were the lifeline of the Nationalist government, and Soong Mei-ling still held diplomatic authority with the U.S., but her political power was clearly declining, with her biggest 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 influence 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 (who had no blood relation to him), or his younger brother, Jiang Weiguo, and rarely spoke of his wife, Jiang Fangliang, naturally highlighting his close relationship with his father and the significance of his succession. Unlike Soong Mei-ling, Jiang Jingguo's Russian wife, Jiang Fangliang, had long learned how to be the "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 Mei-ling 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 Mei-ling, 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 First Lady had different opinions on foreign affairs. The First Lady said to Mr. Jingguo, 'Alright, if you insist on your views, then you handle everything. I won't interfere, I'll go to America.' From then on, she went to New York and never came back. Mr. Jingguo had always been a strong-willed person, and once he made a decision, he would see it through, so he didn't pay much attention to her opinions."
On September 16, 1975, noon, Soong Mei-ling left Taiwan for the U.S. on a special flight, "Sino-American," publishing a 3,000-character "Letter Encouraging All compatriots" before her departure. She said, "In recent years, I have suffered the loss of family members. First, my brother-in-law Yongzhi passed away, followed by my younger brother An and my brother Ziyong. Last year, my older sister Ailing fell seriously ill in the U.S. 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 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 feared any negligence, causing me constant anxiety. Unexpectedly, he passed away, and after years of enduring hardship and suppressing grief, 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 widely in the global Chinese community. A gentle woman, she used her legendary life to interpret music, breaking through the walls of politics and the limits of time and space. The song ends, but the people don't part; the strings break, but the sound remains. 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 rooms, Deng Lijun's songs remained popular, with people competing to sing her songs and watch her image 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 packed crowds. 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 music lives on and continues 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 also a time when her life and music were declining. She had been living a low-key life in Thailand, no longer rushing from one concert to another. Fans' tastes had shifted toward faster-paced songs. Deng Lijun seemed to be gradually withdrawing from the music industry, with no intention of competing in the "music martial arts." But her sudden death sparked a wave after wave of fascination with Deng Lijun, and the people suddenly realized the powerful 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 melodies washed away years of austerity. It was a "cultural revelation," and at the turning point of the era, the hearts softened by Deng Lijun's music, and the throats that had sung too many revolutionary songs were now singing "non-political" melodies. Of course, this was not Deng Lijun's intention. She was never really interested in political realities. Although she grew up in Taiwan, what flowed in her veins was not politics but a love for Chinese culture. Her songs, aside from love between men and women and romantic family bonds, had the greatest impact on mainland China by singing classical Chinese poetry and lyrics set to moving melodies, which perfectly filled the gap in 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 have been 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, water-town stories of Jiangnan could be truly understood and resonate with Deng Lijun's music. That is why Deng Lijun's true lover was the people of mainland China. Through the twists and turns of politics and love, their hearts became so close, and their spirits so connected.
In the 1980s, Deng Lijun's melodies were once suspected of being "Nationalist" or even "pro-Japanese," but time proved these were great misunderstandings. Deng Lijun's songs represented the voice of the people on the Chinese mainland. She refused 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 Deformed Flower in the Nightmare Era
I joined the second batch of the national model opera popularization training class in 1970, led by military representatives to study "Red Detachment of Women" in Beijing, staying at Xiyuan Hotel. The China Dance Theater (now the Central Ballet Troupe) taught representatives from six provinces and cities, who then went back to spread the training. 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 yangge and errenzhuan had suddenly taken to pointe shoes. The training 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 thinking at the time was, "No matter the conditions, create conditions to achieve the goal." Under such nearly impossible circumstances, they trained day and night, practicing until their toe nails were bruised, falling off, and their feet were covered in 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, they could only achieve the level of action imitation, but that was already quite difficult. Looking back now, it seems like 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 deformed phenomenon under authoritarianism, causing immense damage to culture.