Feng Xuefeng was an authoritative figure in Communist literary circles. In 1933 he left Shanghai for the Jiangxi Soviet, serving as vice president of the Party School and later participating in the Long March. He acted as the liaison between the Chinese Communist Party and Lu Xun.

After 1949, he became vice chairman of the Writers’ Association.

In 1954 he was criticized over the Dream of the Red Chamber debates. In 1955 he was attacked during the Hu Feng affair. In 1957 he was labeled a Rightist. In 1966, during the Cultural Revolution, he was denounced; in 1967 he was branded a traitor and sent to labor in Hubei. In 1971 he returned to Beijing and served as editor-in-chief of The Diary of Lu Xun. He died of illness in January 1976. In 1979 he was rehabilitated and his Party membership restored.

According to the Jade Emperor’s “supreme directive,” Mao could meet any departed spirit. More than forty years after his death, whenever Mao thought of Feng being repeatedly persecuted and dying with grievances unresolved, he wished to see him again—hoping Feng might put in a few good words for him before the Jade Emperor.

Mao opened bluntly: “After the founding of the People’s Republic, you were repeatedly targeted. During the Cultural Revolution you were denounced, labeled a traitor, sent to labor, and died with grievances unresolved.”

Feng replied: “I was purged many times. Though you did not always appear personally, I understood that ultimately it was by your will. The reasons included differences of opinion and also suspicion.”

Mao said: “In 1933 you were assigned to Jiangxi. We often took walks together and talked about everything. You were Lu Xun’s contact. We spoke frequently of him. I admired him greatly. He was perceptive. He said I had the air of a mountain bandit chieftain—very accurate.”

Feng answered: “Lu Xun was equally perceptive about the Communist Party. He once said: ‘If the Communists come to power, you will see me wearing a red undershirt sweeping the streets in Shanghai.’ He also said: ‘If the Party takes power, I will be the first to flee.’”

Mao replied: “Back in the 1930s he foresaw events twenty years later—remarkable indeed. Sweeping streets might have been possible. But fleeing? No one escapes from my hands. Lu Xun wouldn’t have escaped either.”

Feng continued: “In 1946 I published an essay collection in Shanghai titled The Days That Passed. I wrote to Ding Ling in Zhangjiakou asking her to forward the book to you. After reading it, you told her that the book was somewhat dogmatic. Three essays especially caught your attention: New Pride, Imperial Mindset, and Feudal Consciousness and Feudal Ornamentation. I never understood why those three in particular drew your notice.”

Mao said: “Those three essays unintentionally struck some hidden corner of my psyche. Subconsciously I felt a dull pain—very uncomfortable. So I criticized you as dogmatic. ‘Dogmatism’ was the term I used against Wang Ming. Ding Ling was sensitive—that word could be fatal.”

Feng replied: “As the saying goes, ‘The writer has no such intent; the reader reads with intention.’ If I had intended to attack you, why would I have sent the book to you? I hoped for your praise.”

Mao said: “You say Lu Xun had a keen sense of smell; mine is not bad either. I observe carefully and have a sharp instinct. After 1949, Jiang Qing dug up poems and allegories you published in Chongqing in 1945, especially Fire, Inferno, Morning of March Fifth, The Duck Who Was Once in Opposition and Later Became a Propagandist, and The Monkey Doctor and the Gravely Ill Donkey. I was shocked after reading them. I forwarded them to Liu Shaoqi and Zhou Enlai, and also asked Chen Boda, Hu Qiaomu, Hu Sheng, and Tian Jiaying to read them. In my note I wrote in particular: ‘If you have no time, just read “Inferno.”’”

Feng responded: “Jiang Qing, in order to attack me, rummaged through my past works, quoting out of context, mixing things up, forcing interpretations. When I published Fire and Inferno in 1945 in Chongqing, my original intention was to celebrate the Soviet Army’s victory. Inferno was a reflective essay about the great fire in Berlin after the Soviets entered the city—it became a city of terror.”

Mao said: “Jiang Qing and I paid special attention to a line in Inferno: ‘In order that we too now present real terror, and that history’s victory may shine forth from the flames of terror.’ And another: ‘The peoples of the world rally around outstanding nations and their great leaders only to resist the tyranny first unleashed by hooligans leading a corrupted nation.’ I felt you were knocking at me—striking at my vital points in secret, causing that dull pain in my heart. That is the power of the Lu Xun–style essay. From then on, I harbored resentment toward you.”

Feng replied: “You projected yourself into my words and then accused me of deliberate attack. In 1945 how could I have known you would become the ‘Red Sun’? Jiang Qing had a guilty conscience—suspicious of everything. Forcing connections, twisting meanings. Like ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’—if one wants to see it, one sees it. If one intends to condemn, there is never a shortage of charges.”

Mao said: “Lu Xun was the grand master of the essay; age sharpens the ginger. His essays were formidable. Hu Feng and you were his students. Wang Shiwei, who wrote Wild Lilies, and Ding Ling, who wrote Thoughts on March 8, were of your circle. My sense of smell was keen—I could detect it. In short, you were not of one mind with me. What I wanted was praise—positive energy. Even Ding Ling, whom I once cherished, I had to discard after 1949. Your case was similar.”

Mao added perfunctorily: “After more than forty years in the afterlife, I reflect—you were right, I was wrong. I will continue to examine myself and repent thoroughly.”

Feng responded coldly:“Remarkable. A man like you actually understands the word ‘repentance’?”

NEXT: 49. Peng Zhen (1902–1997)