he first thing I did when I returned to the Beijing Dance Academy was to tell Teacher Xiao, Zhang Shu, the Bandit and all my friends about my new discoveries in dance: the Gershwin pas de deux, the Martha Graham technique, the body conditioning classes. I simply couldn't hide my excitement and enthusiasm. I had decided, however, that I wouldn't say anything at all about how much I liked America. I especially wouldn't mention the sense of freedom I had experienced. I desperately wanted to but I knew it would give the authorities reason enough to deny me permission to return to America. I wouldn't take that risk. As an old Chinese saying goes, "The wind will carry the words to other people's ears."

The freedom I'd experienced in America occupied my mind constantly. In China, Chairman Mao and his government's absolute authority could never have been challenged. We didn't have individual rights. We were told what to do, how long to work each day, how much we would be paid, where we would live and how many children we were allowed to have. I struggled with my communist beliefs: memories of America were so fresh. What if I were to have that same freedom? What could I do with my ballet then?

Eventually I talked myself into believing that if I had stayed in America any longer I would surely have seen so many bad things about capitalism that I wouldn't have liked America at all. Even so, I was surprised that I was wavering after spending only six weeks there. How could eighteen years of communism be so easily influenced by six short weeks of capitalism? Without Chairman Mao I was lost. He was my god. Would I still die for Chairman Mao? Now I wasn't sure.

I also started to question certain aspects of our ballet training in China. I became frustrated at the lack of freedom in my teachers' thinking. I began to feel once again like a trapped animal. I couldn't wait for the two months to pass so I could go back to America and continue my learning.

As soon as we returned, Zhang and I had to report to Director Song of our academy and to the Ministry of Culture who required a written report from us about our American trip.

"Would you like to meet this evening to work on the report with me?" I asked Zhang.

"Why don't you just write it yourself," replied Zhang. "I trust you."

But I told him that I needed his help because our report would require a certain degree of deception if we were to avoid any suspicion from the officials.

"Write what you have to write. I will understand," Zhang said.

I was happy that Zhang trusted me to complete this task but I found it very difficult to write bad things about America. I simply couldn't think of any. So I made up some bad things about "rotten capitalist influences". First I described the daily routine at the Houston Ballet Academy and the new experiences in Ben's ballet classes. I emphasised the goodwill Zhang and I had generated for China. Then I put a considerable amount of time and effort into describing the diseased aspects of America. I described the restaurant owner from Taiwan as one of our class enemies, with her strong perfume smell, her thick makeup and her plastic smile. I described a black neighbourhood in Houston, the decaying houses and leaking roofs. I said it was infested with flies and mosquitoes and that people slept outside on mats on a dirt floor. Only a privileged few lived in air-conditioned luxury homes. I expressed sorrow for the poor black people of America. I emphasised our superior communist system and Chairman Mao's valued principles.

"This is great! Thank you, Cunxin!" Zhang said enthusiastically after he'd read the report.

But I wasn't happy. I felt angry that I'd had to do this at all.

When we handed in our report and returned the borrowed suitcases, ties and suits to the ministry, Wang Zicheng's deputy also asked us to relinquish any living allowance we'd been given.

Zhang and I were completely shocked. "We spent most of the money on food while we were there," I replied. I didn't tell her we'd also spent some of it on gifts for our families and friends.

"I want every remaining dollar here by tomorrow," she demanded.

So being good and honest Red Guards we gave all our remaining money to the ministry the following day. But I was desperately disappointed—I had planned to give that money to my family. They needed it more than the ministry did.

Going back to America so soon meant that I wouldn't be able to see my parents until after my return the following year. I knew they'd be eager to hear from me, so I wrote them a letter. "I will miss you dreadfully," I wrote, "especially upon New Year's Eve. I will raise my glass full of Tsingtao beer in a faraway foreign land and drink to your health and happiness. I will kneel and kowtow to you. If you sneeze, you will know that it is probably because I am mentioning your names. I hope you will understand how much I want to come home and tell you all about America. There is so much to tell it would take me too long to write it all down. Please be patient and wait for another year and before you know it I'll be back. I have brought presents back for you. I will bring them home next year. I am sending along with this letter a flight safety card so you can see the picture of the plane that I flew on. They are the most beautiful, awesome things in the world. I was flying so high above the clouds. I wish you could have the chance to fly in them one day. I'm sending with this letter all the love in my heart to all of you. I want to tell Niang that I miss her dumplings and all her delicious food. With all the expensive food I had in America, nothing tastes as good as Niang's dumplings."

On the third day after I returned, Zhang Shu the ballet department head asked me to teach a master class to all the ballet teachers in the academy to show them what I had learned while I was away. Teach my teachers a class? I felt nervous about that, but it went well and I continued to participate in most of our practice classes and rehearsals while I was getting ready to reapply for my passport. Our passports had been taken back by the ministry as soon as we'd arrived home.

I was happy to see my good friends at the Beijing Dance Academy again, especially the Bandit. I gave him an "I Love New York" button and some postcards from the cities I'd been to. He wasn't sure he'd be able to wear the button in public, but he loved it all the same. "How do you say, `I love New York` in English?" he asked excitedly. "I wish I could have the privilege to see New York one day!"

"You will," I replied, but I knew that was very unlikely.

"You didn't fall in love with a pretty big-nosed girl while you were there?" he asked suddenly.

I laughed. "No, don't be silly. Of course not! What about you? Over Zhou Xiaoying yet?"

He shook his head sadly.

"What did you do with the rest of your holiday?" I tried to divert the conversation away from Zhou Xiaoying.

"I went home to see my father and mother. They all asked about you! They are so proud of you going to America and they want me to bring you to Hezi to spend a holiday with them some time." Hezi was his home town and reportedly where Confucius was buried. It was something the Bandit always boasted about.

"I will come after I get back from America next year," I replied.

"Tell me, what do you really think about America?" he asked.

I hesitated. I wasn't sure what to say. I wanted to tell him about the freedom I had tasted but I knew this would only lead him to misery. "There were many clean and wide streets, a lot of cars, tall buildings and good living standards," I said instead. "But the best thing was Ben. He was so nice and kind and I love his teaching." Then I told him about the White House, about New York, the ATM machine and all the electronic gadgets. He was especially surprised and excited about the ATM machine.

"Did you see anyone carrying guns on the street?"

"No," I replied, but I didn't want to talk about America any more. I told him I hoped he'd have the chance to see it all for himself one day, and quickly changed the subject.

I received my visa papers from Houston towards the end of the second week and immediately went to the Ministry of Culture to reapply for my passport. But when I arrived the deputy had some devastating news. "Cunxin," she said casually, "I've just received a directive from the minister's office. The minister has changed his mind. He has refused your request for a passport."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"The minister is concerned about potential Western influences. He thinks you are too young."

"But I've been there once already and the Western influence did nothing to me! Didn't you read our report?"

"Yes, I did. It is very good. But the minister has made up his mind."

I walked out of the building in total despair.

As soon as I arrived back at our academy I charged into Director Song's office. "Director Song, did you know about this?"

"Yes, but only this morning."

"Why?" I pressed.

"The minister thinks you are too young to go to America by yourself. It is a dark and filthy world out there," she replied.

"But the minister already gave me permission before I left America!" I said, full of emotion. "I have to go back! To learn more from Ben's teaching, to serve our country better!"

"I understand your feelings. I'm disappointed too. But you must trust the decision of the party. You shouldn't question the wisdom of the minister's decision. Now, go and carry on with your normal activities. You are only a tiny part of the communist cause. Forget your personal desires. And if you don't mind, I have work to do."

I left Director Song's office frustrated and angry. I walked right out of the academy. By this time they were more relaxed about senior students coming and going, so the security guard didn't stop me. I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do. I just needed time to think, so I bought a five-fen entry ticket to Taoranting Park. I walked faster and faster. I broke into a run and ran without any thought or purpose, trying to drive away what was in my mind and heart. I ran like a blind, scared tiger. It was as though a beautifully sunny day had, without warning, turned dark and unfamiliar. All I could see was a neverending road, leading nowhere, only closing into a circle, a circle that was full of misery. My heart was racing, my legs were cramping and I gasped for air. "I have to get out!" I kept telling myself.

Along the edge of the lake there were many weeping willows. I was still fond of willows, but ever since we'd moved back to the city I hadn't had the need to confess to the trees any more. Not like when I was eleven and homesick, back in the early days. Now, seeing the willows swaying from side to side in the breeze, I longed for refuge once again. I climbed onto a small tree and in under the cover of the leaves. I spoke to the weeping willows for the first time in five and a half years. How could my opportunity to go back to America be taken away so easily, just like that? Those six memorable weeks, the things that I saw and experienced …

America was real. America was out there and I had seen it. The plane trips, the cars, the cowboy hats, the "bloody" steaks, the raw salad, the ballet classes and the Gershwin music. It was all so vivid and close. And now the ground I was standing on had disappeared from under me. I desperately tried to think of the real reason why the minister had suddenly changed his mind. Was it my report? Did I write too many good things about America? Perhaps Zhang got jealous and said something unfavourable to the ministry? Or was what I'd been told by the deputy true?

I had no answers, but I knew I would do everything I could to find out the truth. Calm down, Cunxin, I told myself. Think of ways to persuade the minister to change his mind.

I went back to the academy just before dinner. "Teacher Xiao is looking for you!" the Bandit shouted from a distance as soon as he spotted me. "Are you all right? You look terrible," he asked as soon as he noticed my face.

"I'm not allowed to go back to America," I replied.

"Why?" cried the Bandit.

I couldn't say. Tears choked my throat. I ran to Teacher Xiao's office and knocked on the door.

As soon as I closed the door he rushed up to me and hugged me tight. "I heard the news, I'm sorry," he whispered.

I was stunned by his hug at first. Hugging still wasn't a communist thing to do. "Why, why, why did he take it away from me?" I sobbed. "What did I do wrong?"

"Sit down," Teacher Xiao said. He pulled a chair out from under his small desk and lit a cigarette. "According to Director Song, the minister feels that you are too young to go to the West for a whole year."

"Do you think this is the real reason?"

"It appears this is the only reasonable explanation."

"But he gave me permission to go back before I returned! What made him change his mind?"

"I don't know. Teacher Zhang and I asked the same question."

"Is there any way we can find out?" I persisted.

"You never give up, do you?" Teacher Xiao smiled.

I shook my head.

"Teacher Zhang and I have convinced Director Song to send a petition to Minister Wang to see if he will change his mind. I don't know whether it will work. All we can do is wait," he said.

"Thank you, Teacher Xiao," I said.

"Don't thank me. You need to thank Teacher Zhang. He did most of the talking. We both felt that after only six weeks in America your dancing had already improved enormously. I can't imagine what a year would do for you. To miss this opportunity would be an unforgivable mistake. Ben Stevenson can offer you opportunities we cannot offer you here. Now, go to dinner. Otherwise there will be nothing left," he urged.

I didn't hear back from the ministry for over a week. Then, on a Tuesday, Zhang Shu called me into his office. Teacher Xiao was already there. As soon as I entered the room I knew the news was bad.

"Cunxin," Zhang Shu began, "we have just been informed by the ministry. Our petition has been turned down. I'm so sorry."

My heart was bleeding. I tried hard to hold back my tears.

"Cunxin," Teacher Xiao said, "Teacher Zhang and I have decided to give you permission to take three weeks holiday to visit your family. You haven't seen them for nearly two years. I'm sure they are really missing you."

"Thank you," I said, and stumbled out of Teacher Zhang's office.

A door to a whole new world had shut right in front of me and I could do nothing more about it. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. I was tired and I was devastated. Just as I'd done on that very first night at the Beijing Dance Academy seven years ago, I plunged onto my bed and pulled my niang's quilt over my head. The bright possibilities of ballet and a political career had lost their lustre. My self-doubt resurfaced and I lost all my mental strength and will.

I couldn't understand why not going back to America was affecting me so much. I became angry with myself for being so selfish. I was lucky to go to America once and I should be satisfied and thankful. But a stronger voice kept rising above all other voices in my mind. "I want to go back. I want to study with Ben. I want to improve my dancing and most importantly I want to taste that precious freedom once again."

I jumped out of bed and ran to Teacher Xiao's office. "Teacher Xiao, do you know where Minister Wang lives?"

He frowned. "Yes, why?"

"I want to see him."

"I don't think he will see you even if you do go to his residence. I think you would be better to go to the ministry and make an appointment with his assistant instead."

"I don't think his office will let me make an appointment. He has already refused my case twice and it would take too long for his office to schedule me in. I don't have that much time to waste. Besides, he is not a tiger. He won't eat me, will he?" I added, remembering what Teacher Xiao had said to me once about Teacher Gao.

"You and your memory," he said. "I will never underestimate both your memory and your resolve." So he wrote the minister's address on a small piece of paper and handed it to me. "Good luck," he said.

The following evening I took two different buses and fortyfive minutes later arrived at Minister Wang's residence.

It was an impressive compound with high walls and a tall, metal- barred security gate. There was also a guardhouse and a military guard with a semi-automatic machine gun at the ready.

"Hello, Comrade," I said to the guard as confidently as I could. "I'm Li Cunxin from the Beijing Dance Academy. I'm here to see Minister Wang."

"Do you have an appointment?" he asked.

"No, I don't," I replied honestly.

"Go home if you don't have an appointment," the guard growled.

"I only need to see him for one minute. Please, it's an urgent matter," I begged.

"No, go home. You cannot see the minister without an appointment. Move! If you don't move, I'll have you arrested."

I left, angry and humiliated. This was not how comrades should treat each other.

But I was back the following night. This time, a different guard was at the gate.

"Hello, Comrade. I'm Li Cunxin from the Beijing Dance Academy and I've just returned from America representing China. I was told to meet Minister Wang tonight," I lied.

"What time is your appointment?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. Our academy made the appointment for me."

"Wait a minute. What did you say your name was?" he asked.

"Last name is Li," I replied, hoping he wouldn't ask for my first name. Li is a very common last name in China, so maybe someone else with the last name of Li had an appointment with the minister that night, I prayed.

"What's your first name?" the guard asked.

No such luck. "Cunxin," I said.

"I don't see any appointments made with the minister tonight," he said, checking the appointment book. "Are you sure you have come on the right night? The minister is attending a banquet. He won't be back until late."

"I'm sorry, I must have the date wrong. Thank you," I said to the guard. I walked to the end of the street and turned the corner, then sat on a stone doorstep and waited for the minister's return. I took out my list of twenty new English words and tried to memorise them. Then I went over what I was going to say to the minister, keeping an eye out for his car.

By midnight I was freezing and tired and there was still no sign of the minister's car. I ran to the nearby bus stop to shake off the cold and caught the last scheduled bus back. I missed the last connecting bus, so I had to run for half an hour after that to get back to the academy. The security guard was already asleep and I climbed over the gate as quietly as a cat.

The next day after our ballet class Teacher Xiao called me to his office. "Cunxin, I'm worried about you. Why don't you give yourself a break?"

I shook my head and told him what I'd done the last two nights. "I won't give up until every possible avenue has been explored," I said defiantly.

I could see tears in Teacher Xiao's eyes. "Cunxin, for all the years I've known you, I have never once doubted your determination. But here you are not dealing with internal factors. You are dealing with things beyond your control. Like a flea trying to overpower an elephant. Just give yourself a break. There will be another opportunity in the future."

"Isn't there any other way?"

Teacher Xiao shook his head. "The minister rarely reverses his decisions. Your situation is the least of his worries."

But still I would not give up. On the third night I returned to Minister Wang's residence and this time I doubled my list of English words to forty and wore more clothes. I was prepared to wait all night for a chance to see the minister.

The same guard from the first night greeted me. "Hello, Comrade. Do you have an appointment this time?"

"Yes, one of my teachers has made an appointment with the minister's deputy and I was to meet him tonight at seven-thirty," I said matter-of-factly.

"Wait here."

My heart thumped and my face turned red and I hated myself for lying. If it weren't for the darkness the guard would have easily detected my guilt simply by the colour of my face.

A few minutes later, the guard came back. "You can't even lie properly! Go home and don't come back again until you have a proper appointment. Otherwise I'll shoot you."

I noticed the guard was in a better mood than the first night. "Comrade, I'm sorry that I have to lie to you but I must see Minister Wang, even just for one minute." I told him the reasons why I wanted to see the minister. I begged him to put himself in my shoes and to give me a chance. "I promise that I'll only take one minute of his time."

"Okay, but I don't know when the minister will be back and I can't guarantee that he will see you."

This time I didn't have to hide at the end of the street. I walked back and forth, memorising my forty English words and going over what I would say to the minister for the hundredth time.

Just before ten o'clock the guard called me over. "Xiao Li, I am going inside at midnight. If the minister is still not back by then I can't guarantee my replacement will let you hang around."

"I understand," I replied.

Then he hesitated. "What's America like? Tell me a little," he asked quietly.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Anything!" he replied eagerly.

I told him about the cars, the tall buildings, the ATM machines …

"People can get money out of a machine in a wall?" He was very amused.

I was mindful not to show too much enthusiasm about America. When I told him about the guard at the White House with no machine guns, he was amazed. "You must be joking."

"No, it's true. Security is very lax there."

"What is the White House like? Is it really white?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied, trying to sound as though I didn't care much about the White House at all.

"I can't believe they let a Chinese ballet student get so close!" Under the dim light I could see his expression of disbelief. To leave no doubt in his mind about my commitment to communism, I told him that I despised our class enemies in America and that I was sympathic towards the American poor. But I could tell he was more interested in hearing about things like ATM machines.

About an hour later, two bright headlights appeared from one end of the street.

"Stand aside, this is him," the guard said and quickly walked to the driver's side. I couldn't hear what he said but a couple of minutes later the minister's car drove through the entrance and the guard pulled the gate closed behind.

"Sorry, Xiao Li. The minister didn't want to see you."

"What did you tell him?" My heart was still palpitating.

"I told him why you were here and that you'd been here for several nights. But all he said was `Drive on`. He was rather annoyed."

I walked away under the faint streetlight. My whole world had crumbled. That was my last chance, my very last chance. I would never go back to America now. I had been beaten at last. How naïve you are to think your existence would mean so much to the communist cause! I told myself. Do you think an important leader such as Minister Wang would spend a single second thinking about you, a mere peasant boy? How foolish to believe everyone was equal in China. I had believed this communist doctrine for so many years. But in the minister's eyes I was no one. He didn't even bother to glance out of his car at this eager and pathetic boy.

I thought bitterly of the minister riding away in his flashy car. I thought of a story we'd been told at school about Mao not eating pork, of him deliberately suffering hardships just like the rest of us, and I seethed with rage.

I realised then that China was like any other nation on earth. There was no equality. But I, like all the Chinese people, had given Chairman Mao and his government our unwavering support for many, many years. I never questioned them. What choice did we have? The media was totally controlled by the government. One couldn't escape their brainwashing. "Cunxin, you've been manipulated all these years. It's time to wake up. The government and Minister Wang are no longer there for you. You have to look after yourself. You only have one life to live."

I went back to the academy and lay awake until the early hours of the morning.

I don't know what time I finally fell asleep. I didn't hear the wake-up bell in the morning. I didn't wake when the Bandit shook me at lunchtime, and I slept through the morning classes and afternoon rehearsals. I felt someone putting his hand on my forehead to feel my temperature. "Cunxin has a fever," I heard them say. My throat throbbed. My bones ached. My entire body was burning. But the most painful thing was my memory of the night before. Sleep was the only thing that would cure me of my misery and my shaken beliefs. I held onto my niang's quilt for dear life.

Finally I heard the voices of Teacher Xiao and the Bandit. "Wake up, Cunxin, wake up!"

I forced myself to open my eyes and look at their kind, caring faces. Tears welled in my eyes and I began to sob. "Leave me alone. I want to go back to my dreams."

"Cunxin, just listen to me now!" Teacher Xiao said. "You have two choices. Think of this as a card game: you can simply give up and stop participating or you can play on and see what happens. You have a long life and career in front of you. There will be many triumphs as well as setbacks, but if you give up now you will never taste the mango!"

I looked first at Teacher Xiao and then at the Bandit. I burst into uncontrollable sobs. My anger, my disappointment, my injured pride and my shattered beliefs all forced their way out at once. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

The next day, from Director Song's office, I made a phone call to Ben Stevenson in Houston. "I can not come," I told him. "My big leader in government say no." Once more my heart was bleeding with pain.

He asked me some questions I didn't really understand. The only words I detected were "why", "disappointed" and "sad". I kept asking him to repeat. Eventually he screamed down the phone in sheer frustration. "You! Come! Later!"

"No. Big leader say no. I. Write. Letter. For you."

After I had spoken to Ben, I immediately phoned my village and asked for my parents. "Fifth Brother, it's Cunxin. I am coming home."

"Aren't you going back to America?" he asked, surprised.

"No, not any more," I replied.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing wrong. I will explain when I get back. Tell our parents not to go spending money on special food for me," I said.

"Are you all right? Did you do something wrong?"

"No. I didn't do anything wrong. I'm all right. The Minister for Culture thinks I'm too young to go back alone. I have to go now. I will call you once I get my train ticket." I quickly put the phone down. I didn't want him to hear me crying.

For the following two days I was very emotional. I couldn't wait for the sun to go down so I could clutch onto my niang's quilt and quietly shed my tears.

Two days later I purchased my train ticket, ready to go home for a three-week holiday. But that afternoon, as I was mindlessly scanning through the People's Daily, a headline caught my eye. "Minister Wang, the Minister for Culture, will lead a delegation to South America for five weeks."

I pulled the paper to my chest as though I had found a treasure and immediately ran to Teacher Xiao's office.

"Teacher Xiao, Teacher Xiao! Read this!"

"Yes. I've read it already. The minister is going to South America for five weeks. What's strange about that?"

"Who will be in charge of the ministry while he's gone?" I asked.

Teacher Xiao suddenly understood. We walked down to level two together and knocked on Zhang Shu's door.

"There may be a way for Cunxin to go to America after all," Teacher Xiao said.

Zhang Shu was amused, but Teacher Xiao handed him the newspaper. He quickly scanned the headline and frowned.

"We can lobby the vice-minister in charge to ask permission for Cunxin to leave!" Teacher Xiao shouted excitedly.

"The vice-minister might be reluctant to take on the responsibility knowing Minister Wang had refused it before," Zhang Shu said thoughtfully.

"Can't we lobby all the vice-ministers?" I suggested.

They looked at each other and laughed. "All five of them?" Zhang Shu shook his head.

"It would be extremely difficult, but not impossible," Teacher Xiao added.

They discussed who the key minister in the ministry was and they decided on Lin Muhan, a well-known intellect in China and a labelled rightist who had been through some horrifying times during the Cultural Revolution. He was now in charge of the educational area within the ministry and a strong advocate for talent. Zhang Shu felt that he would be sympathetic towards my situation.

I wrote to my family that night and told them I couldn't go back home just yet.

Our intense lobbying efforts lasted over two weeks.

Teacher Xiao told me years later that he and Zhang Shu had even gone to Lin Muhan's own residence in their final effort to get me back to America. Teacher Xiao made a promise to the minister: within five years Chinese ballet dancers would be the best in the world.

This time they succeeded. Lin Muhan lobbied the four other vice- ministers and signed the permission for me to go to America for one year.

With passport in hand I went to the US consulate in Beijing as soon as I could and my visa was granted within days.

I called Ben. "I can come! Plane ticket, please!" I shouted, my heart blossoming like a flower.

Two days later I received a phone call from Northwest Airlines. My reservation was confirmed. I was to leave China in three days.

• • •

My last three days were frantically busy. All my friends wanted some special time alone with me. On my last Saturday night, Teacher Xiao invited the entire class to his apartment and cooked us a delicious meal. We all helped with the washing, cutting and cleaning. He even made an egg, apple and potato salad. We banged our glasses together and shouted, "Gan bei!" Teacher Xiao stood up and raised his glass. "I wish to propose two toasts. The first is to all of you for putting up with me for over five and a half years of shouting and carrying on. This may be our last gathering together. I'm proud to be your teacher and I wish you all the best of luck. You're Chairman and Madame Mao's last generation of dancers. You have studied under the most strict and disciplined rules imaginable, but this will give you an edge over the others. You'll be the last dancers of the era." Teacher Xiao stopped briefly to calm his emotions. "I'll boldly make a prediction. Your dance training will never be duplicated. Your dancing will proudly stand high in Chinese ballet history."

He paused again. "My second toast is to Cunxin's American trip. I hope you will respect your past and charge towards the future.

Perfect your art form. Make all of China proud. Gan bei!"

This was the very last time our class would ever gather together with Teacher Xiao.

I felt so happy about going back to America but I wished that I could go home to my family before I went. I longed to see my parents and brothers again, especially my niang, but I couldn't take the risk of going back to Qingdao. The possibility of the ministers changing their minds was very real. For the time being I had to be content with the thought of seeing my family in a year's time.

I visited my adopted family, the Chongs, that Sunday and tasted their delicious dumplings for the last time. That night at the Beijing Dance Academy, the Bandit, Liu Fengtian, Chong Xiongjun and some of my classmates organised a farewell party. The mood of the whole evening was happy and warm, but there was also a sense of sadness—no one knew if we would ever gather together like this again.

So in November 1979, a month after my original planned date, I left China for the second time. I didn't know it then, but it would be many, many years before I could return.