During the Long March in 1935, Zhang Wentian supported Mao Zedong’s rise to leadership. From then on, Mao dominated the Chinese revolution, even though Zhang nominally served as General Secretary for eight years. From the Great Leap Forward through the Cultural Revolution until his death, Zhang was repeatedly persecuted by Mao.

After over forty years in hell, Mao reflected on the past and wished to meet Zhang, but didn’t know where his grave was. Upon inquiry, he learned Zhang’s former residence was in Shanghai, in Dengsan Village, Zhuqiao Town, Pudong New Area. Mao decided to go there and wait.

At night, Mao looked through a stack of photos and documents taken from Zhang’s residence, memories of decades with Zhang surfacing. Tossing in bed near midnight, the spirits of the dead began to stir. Zhang’s ghost appeared before him.

Zhang Wentian spoke first: “Runzhi, I didn’t expect you to come to my former residence to find me.”

Mao said: “Luofu, I can’t find your grave. Where is it?”

Zhang: “I don’t know either, perhaps there isn’t one.”

Mao asked: “What about your ashes?”

Zhang: “I don’t know where they went either. But I don’t care. What matters is that I am vindicated and that my writings can be published for future generations. That is enough for me.”

Still concerned, Mao asked: “What were the circumstances of your death?”

Zhang: “When I passed, they wouldn’t let me use my real name, only ‘Zhang Pu.’ The wreath my wife Liu Ying sent could only read ‘To Comrade Old Zhang.’ Our party ended up like this—don’t you think it’s absurd?”

Mao, moved, said: “You died wronged, unclear, even your family couldn’t express their true feelings.”

Mao asked: “Did you leave any final words or instructions?”

Zhang: “I told Liu Ying to give all my savings to the party. I hoped that my final manuscripts would be compiled and published.”

Mao: “What did you write at the end?”

Zhang: “I wrote Politics and Economy under the Dictatorship of the Proletariat and Party Struggles Must Be Conducted Correctly—my last two works, completed in Zhaoqing and revised in Wuxi.”

Mao: “Even at the end, you were concerned with the country’s future, writing despite illness.”

Zhang: “Following Stalin’s path was wrong. How to get out of a dead end? I kept thinking about it.”

Mao: “Did you leave other manuscripts?”

Zhang: “I also wrote The People are the Masters, On Socialism and Communism, Class and Class Struggle under the Dictatorship of the Proletariat. I instructed three copies to be made and the originals destroyed. These works were only for posterity, without my name attached.”

Mao: “You truly cared for the party, not yourself.”

Zhang: “It wasn’t just to remain anonymous. Once I was exiled to Zhaoqing, Guangdong, I could only be called ‘Zhang Pu,’ not Zhang Wentian.”

Curious about his name, Mao asked: “Your name Luofu is a Russian transliteration, but ‘Wentian’—did you choose it?”

Zhang: “No, my mentor gave it to me, from the Book of Songs: ‘The crane cries in the nine marshes, its voice heard to heaven.’”

Mao jokingly said: “A crane among chickens, your voice reaches the heavens—what grandeur!”

Zhang: “I took it as a personal rule: ‘Be heard by heaven, do not go against heaven’s way.’”

Mao: “Heeding heaven’s way—good! You respect natural order, unlike me, fearless of heaven or earth.”

Zhang: “You are ruthless and ambitious; you can achieve great things. But great things have good and bad sides—what you accomplished was harmful.”

Mao: “On the Long March, you supported my command, letting me rise. I will never forget. I was assertive; you were humble, uninterested in power. You served as General Secretary, offering the position three times: once after Zunyi, once when Zhang Guotao attempted to seize power, and again in 1938 when the Comintern supported me. Each time you offered to step aside; I didn’t accept. Though you didn’t formally relinquish the title, you held meetings at my residence, with all major decisions made by me.”

Zhang: “Yes, the Party was poor then. The Politburo had no meeting room; the leader held meetings in his own cave dwelling.”

Mao: “Regarding Jiang Qing, you wrote me saying her scandals could damage leadership credibility. I saw it and tore it up; I was determined—who could stop me?”

Zhang: “It wasn’t just my opinion. I reflected the consensus of many. In 1941, I spoke to you, bringing Kang Sheng, Chen Yun, Ren Bishi. You criticized me as narrow, aloof, timid, self-interested, saying I knew nothing.”

Mao: “In Yan’an, I ignored you, didn’t regard you properly.”

Zhang: “I endured humiliation for work, not for personal face.”

Mao: “In 1942, after stepping aside, you avoided power centers, conducting rural surveys in northern Shaanxi for over a year. In my eyes, you were a wise ruler. In 1943, I formally accepted you as General Secretary.”

Zhang: “You were truly capable; I supported you. Relinquishing the post was a relief. Later, I managed a small materials office, contributing as best I could.”

Mao: “During the Yan’an Rectification, you admitted mistakes, supported me; I had nothing more to say.”

Zhang: “Supporting you as leader was inevitable, placing party interest above self.”

Mao: “During the Great Leap Forward and the Lushan Conference, you spoke for three hours, supporting Peng Dehuai, criticizing the policy, touching my pain points. I labeled you a counterparty group; you vanished from politics.”

Zhang: “I never thought that Lushan would become a permanent farewell.”

Mao: “Then came the Cultural Revolution, and they targeted you again?”

Zhang: “In 1968, I was publicly denounced 16 or 17 times, forced to wear big signs and hats. Physically exhausted, I suffered heart attacks. I was forced to make false confessions, defending others while guilty myself. In the Beijing Military Region, I was under armed supervision for 523 days, until 1969, when the special case team escorted me to the Zhaoqing Military Subdistrict in Guangdong. I was renamed Zhang Pu, prohibited from outside contact, and had to report monthly.”

Mao: “From then on, Zhang Wentian ceased to exist; you became Zhang Pu. Losing the old superior, I felt a weight lifted.”

Zhang: “In 1972, I wrote to you, describing a lonely, isolated life, pleading to return to Beijing for work I could manage—no reply. In 1974, I wrote again, requesting to return to Beijing to live and recover. Letters were delivered via Wang Zhen.”

Mao: “I saw the letters, approved—but Beijing might not be suitable, so another place was arranged.”

Zhang: “With your consent, in 1975 I left Zhaoqing for Wuxi, Jiangsu. I was already sickly, hospitalized several times. The next year, I passed away.”

Mao: “You were refined, humble, steadfast. A lifetime for the Party, yet died wronged, unclear.”

Zhang: “Fortunately, my five-volume collected works were published years later. My thoughts can be evaluated, lessons drawn—comforting indeed.”

Mao: “We died the same year. Forty years later, what reflections do you have?”

Zhang: “Following Stalin was a personal tragedy, harming the nation. Once in a dead end, one must find a way out. In exile during the Cultural Revolution, I wrote opinions to guide the Party off the wrong path.”

Mao: “What were the main points?”

Zhang: “Simply: human rights and democracy; commodities and markets. Deng Xiaoping later implemented these; my views aligned with his.”

Mao: “Good. I agree now. After forty years of reflection, today we share common ground.”

Zhang, hearing Mao’s acknowledgment, said: “Runzhi, you ruled for thirty years, bringing great disasters to the country. You must truly repent. I hope to see your repentance written soon.” Saying this, he stood and bid farewell.

NEXT: 44. Wang Ming (1904–1974)