The Mao Case

to select and judge.”

    “Of course I’ll have to do that,” Chen said, seeing this as a necessary step for Long to distance himself from the information.
     “I will take full responsibility for the translation.”
    “Now, about the identity of the militia woman, where did you read this?”
    “In a Beijing newspaper. According to the article, Mao wrote the poem for a phone operator in the Central South Sea. She took
     a picture of herself in a militia woman’s costume and showed the photograph to Mao. But how could that have happened? An ordinary
     phone operator wouldn’t have been able to get close to Mao.”
    “Exactly,” Long said, crunching a crab leg forcibly. “There are actually several different versions of the story behind the
     poem. It’s no secret that Mao had a number of dancing partners. In addition to those ensemble girls, his partners also included
     those working for him, like the waitresses in the special train, the special nurses, and the phone operators. In one version,
     a special nurse instead of the phone operator showed the picture to Mao, who wrote the poem to show his appreciation.”
    “So what are some of the other versions?”
    “Well, have you heard of a movie actress named Shang?”
    “Yes, what about her?” Chen said, immediately alert.
    “She, too, danced with Mao. The poem was said to be for the actress who played a militia woman in a movie. I saw the movie
     for that very reason and Shang won an award for her performance. But how reliable is the story about her being the inspiration?
     I don’t know. Stories about Mao are often blown out of proportion. Anyway, there’s no ‘final word’ about the identity of the
     militia woman.”
    “Can you go into more details here? About Shang, I mean.”
    “She’s quite well-known, called ‘the phoenix of the movie industry.’ There’s a Beijing opera called Dragon Flirting with Phoenix.
     Have you seen it?”
    “Yes, it’s about a Ming emperor’s romantic affair with Sister Phoenix.”
    “In traditional Chinese culture, the dragon symbolizes the emperor, and the phoenix, its female partner.”

    “I see.” Whether Mao believed in such an interpretation, consequently falling for Shang, Chen didn’t know, but he understood
     the roundabout way in which Long responded to his inquiry.
    “That also could be related to the poem for Madam Mao too,” Long went on, finishing the cup in one gulp. “In another, more
     elaborate version, Madam Mao knew the origin of the militia-woman poem, so she asked Mao to write one for her picture as well — for
     balance of imperial favor, or like in the old saying, ‘to share the favor of the divine rain and dew.’ Mao came to Shanghai
     so many times… By the way, have you read the book
Cloud and Rain in Shanghai
?”
    “Yes, I have.”
    “So you know the story. With the background research I’ve done, I’m more inclined toward the supposition that Shang was the
     militia woman in the poem.”
    “Why?”
    “Mao actually copied poems for Shang. I interviewed a colleague of hers and, according to him, when he visited Shang’s place
     before the outbreak of the Cultural Revolution, he saw a scroll in Mao’s calligraphy in her bedroom.”
    “The ‘Militia Woman’?”
    “Not that one, but ‘Ode to the Plum Blossom.’ ”
    “Really!” Chen had never thought about that poem in connection with the investigation. He took out a copy of Mao’s poems from
     his briefcase and turned to the ode.
    After wind and rain seeing off the spring, / flying snow comes as a harbinger of the spring. / On the ice covered cliff, /
     the plum blossom still shines. / Pretty, she does not claim the spring for herself, / content to be a herald of spring. /
     When hills are ablaze with wildflowers , / in their midst she smiles.
    “It was written in December 1961, after a poem by Lu You, a Song-dynasty poet,” Long said. “It’s also a poetic convention,
     you know, to write in response or correspondence to another poem. In both poems, the plum blossom symbolizes an unyielding
     spirit, but in each, from a different perspective.”

    “Yes, I think you’re right.” Chen turned a page and read Lu’s poem as an appendix.
    Outside the post house, beside the broken bridge / a lone plum blossom stands deserted, / against the worries of the solitary
     dusk, / against the wind and rain. / Not anxious to claim spring for herself, / she endures the envy of other flowers. / Her
     petals