Red Azalea by Anchee Min

to be told the truth. She said if she had not been restricted (she was put in a detention house where she was considered an enemy) she would have come to check Little Green out herself immediately. Yan took the time to write her back. I proofread the letter to polish Yan’s grammar and tone. It was a hard letter to write. Yan tried to explain what had happened.I could see Yan struggle through the writing. She did not really explain. She could not. She could not say we were the ones who had murdered her granddaughter. Yan said Little Green was very ill. She was suffering a mental distraction. But she was in good hands now. She had been taken care of. The farm had been looking for new medicine and treatment for her. It was a weak letter. It expressed nothing but guilt. It asked the grandmother to keep the big picture in mind, to see that it was just one incident. Hundreds and thousands of youths were assigned to the countryside by the Party. “Certain sacrifice is required when working with stamina for the prosperity of the country”—Yan ended the letter by quoting Mao.
    Yan looked exhausted. Blue ink was on her fingers and lips. I made a clean copy of her letter and gave it back to her. She went to the farm’s headquarters to get a stamp and mail it. That night she said to me, When I die, I will be sliced into pieces by the demons in hell. She said she could see it clearly now.
    Lu told me that I was a good sprout. Worthy enough to be selected as one of her “pillars of the state.” Her slogan-talk got on my nerves. I disliked it. Superficiality pervaded her speech. She tried to dominate everything. Many times she demonstrated her political and ideological expertise in meetings by giving long dissertations on the history of the Party. She wanted to be admired so much. She did it to remind Yan that Yan had none of the skills required of a leader. She succeeded in embarrassing her. I saw Yan’s awkwardness. She sat in the corner, rubbing her hands.Frustrated. I felt sorry for Yan. It made me like her more. I liked her awkwardness. I adored her clumsiness.
    Neither the headquarters heads nor the soldiers were responding to Lu’s exhibited leader’s skills. Seasons passed and Lu was still where she had always been. Although Lu did not like to deal with frustration, she was a good fighter. She picked more fights with Yan, pointed out her imperfections in front of the ranks. Yan became even more furious. She wanted to eat Lu up. It took me a half month to figure out the words Yan had muttered when insulted by Lu. She called Lu a mother of fart. When Lu wished to extend a meeting in order to sharpen the soldiers’ minds, Yan said, Let’s sharpen the hoes first. Lu said, You’re going to get crushed in a blind alley if you only pay attention to pushing your cart forward without watching which track you’re on. Yan said dryly, Let’s get crushed. Lu said, As you make your bed, so you must lie on it. Yan said, Damn. I should do something to sharpen my teeth.
    I often felt that Lu had more than two eyes when she watched or spoke with me. Lu once said that she would like to cultivate me to join her special advanced activist study team. I did not say that I was not interested, but I must have betrayed disinterest. She said she was greatly disappointed. I said I would do my best to stay close to her team. I promised to borrow her Mao study notes. She said she knew my reason for not joining her. She said it was bad to live under someone’s shadow. She said she would hate to leave a stone in her shoes. She said if one did not come to her political senses, one would lose her political future.
    Though it was important for me to look noble to my troops, I made my choice to ignore Lu’s warning. I felt that I must stand by Yan. By supporting Yan, I would cast myself as the lesser of two evils in a bad play. I never wanted to be a soldier at the Red Fire Farm. I felt like a slave. Yan was my reason, my faith to go on. Yan made me