Lu Xun was a great modern Chinese writer and thinker. He was honored as the number one figure in modern Chinese literature. Although he did not receive a state funeral when he died, the democratic camp crowned him as the “Soul of the Nation,” a title widely recognized. Later, Mao strongly praised Lu Xun with the “six mosts,” but Mao never had the opportunity to meet him during his lifetime. More than forty years after Mao’s death, the Jade Emperor was about to hold a public trial for him. Before the trial, Mao was allowed to meet the spirits he wished to see. Mao very much wanted to meet Lu Xun, so he applied to the Jade Emperor, who, as usual, granted permission.

When Mao met Lu Xun, he said: “You are the foremost master of China’s literary world, the banner-bearer of the New Culture Movement. I have always admired you and have studied your great works throughout my life. Your thought accords greatly with mine. Although you did not join the Party, I called you a ‘Bolshevik outside the Party.’ You and I are on the same path. Today I have the honor to meet you in person and seek your instruction.”

Lu replied: “I have always upheld independence for the sake of the people and the nation, and I never joined any political party. Though my spirit resonated with Marx’s revolutionary critical spirit and I had dealings with your Party, in fact you and I are not on the same path.”

Mao said: “In the 1930s, Feng Xuefeng was often in contact with you. When Feng came to the Jiangxi Soviet, we once met. I said that this time we would not talk about red rice and pumpkins, nor about landlords and local tyrants, but only about Lu Xun. Feng mentioned that a Japanese friend had said that in China there were two and a half people who understood China best: one was Chiang Kai-shek, one was Lu Xun, and the half was Mao Zedong. I laughed loudly when I heard that. You were ranked alongside Chiang; internationally you were highly esteemed.”

Lu said: “Chiang practiced one-party dictatorship, which I strongly opposed. You also opposed Chiang, so on this point we were on the same road.”

Mao said: “Someone once proposed inviting you to the Jiangxi Soviet to preside over cultural and educational affairs. But I thought you played a greater role in Shanghai. If you had come to Jiangxi, whom would you have exposed and criticized?”

Lu said: “I would not accept an invitation from any party. I can only uphold freedom and independence. My exposure and criticism were for the country and the people, not for the private interests of one party.”

Mao asked: “What impression do you have of the Communist Party?”

Lu said: “From my observation, your Party’s interest was not truly in seeking benefits for the people. Like the drunken old man whose real intention is not the wine, you only cared about overthrowing Chiang’s government and becoming kings yourselves, replacing him. I doubted that if your Party came to power, it would be much better than Chiang. You put seizing power first; once in power, you would put preserving power first, not the common people first. Once Feng Xuefeng returned from Jiang County and brought your poem ‘Xijiang Yue · Jinggangshan.’ When I heard ‘Below the mountain banners and flutes are in sight; above the mountain drums and horns echo,’ I burst into laughter. You had the bearing of a mountain bandit king.”

Mao said: “In 1945 during the Chongqing negotiations, I admitted I was a mountain king from the Green Forest University—but not a bandit; I was a foreign bandit, backed by the Comintern, wearing a five-pointed-star cap. Do you think that if the Communist Party came to power, it would practice dictatorship like Chiang?”

Lu said: “From my observation, your Party’s dictatorship would be even more autocratic than Chiang’s. When speaking of freedom and democracy, for Chiang it was a question of how much; for your Party it was a question of whether there was any at all. That is why I once said that if the Communist Party took power, I would be the first to flee. Hu Feng once mentioned to me that Xiao Jun wanted to join the Party and asked whether it was good. I said no. The Communist Party can be entered but not exited. Once you join, you lose your freedom.”

Mao said: “If the Communist Party came to power, you would stay and play a great role.”

Lu replied: “Not so! Dangerous indeed! In the early years after Liberation, an intellectual wrote to the Central Committee asking what Lu Xun would have done had he lived to see the founding of the People’s Republic. The Central authorities may have found it hard to answer and passed the question to Guo Moruo. Guo, clever and perceptive, replied: ‘Lu Xun would likewise need to undergo reform and would be assigned work as appropriate.’ When I learned in Heaven that ‘reform’ would be imposed on me, what could I do? I could not follow your path of dictatorship. That is why I also once said that if the Communist Party took power, you would see me wearing a red vest and sweeping the streets with a broom.”

Mao said: “It would not be so. Your revolutionary spirit would still exert great force in the new society. I repeatedly elevated you to the highest position, saying you were ‘the hardest bones, the most correct, the bravest, the most resolute, the most loyal, the most ardent national hero.’”

Lu laughed: “In Heaven I know you highly praised me and gilded me. You knew that twenty thousand people spontaneously attended my funeral. You took me as a banner to wave and shout with, to serve your purposes, trying to draw a large group of intellectuals to your side to strengthen your momentum. In this you were smarter than Chiang. Chiang would not have used me; he even issued a warrant for my arrest.”

Mao said: “I held high your banner from Yan’an to Beijing. It truly worked; the intellectuals had no choice but to listen to me.”

Lu said: “You flattered me in order to use me, just as Lin Biao flattered you with the ‘Four Greats,’ making you a banner in his hands to increase his own capital and serve his ends. Lin Biao learned from your praising me with the ‘six mosts’; he invented the ‘Four Greats.’”

Mao said: “In Yan’an I even established the Lu Xun Academy of Arts under your name as a banner.”

Lu replied: “In fact I had only one ‘most’—the hardest bones. You took me as a banner, yet my spirit of exposure and criticism had already died in Yan’an. In your Talks at the Yan’an Forum on Literature and Art, you clearly stated that literature and art must serve politics. They could only sing praises, no longer expose darkness. The critical spirit was eliminated.”

Mao said: “In Nanjing and Shanghai one could expose Chiang’s darkness. In Yan’an, whom was one to expose?”

Lu said: “You could not tolerate even a slight exposure of darkness. Wang Shiwei only slightly touched upon it, criticizing some unequal hierarchical phenomena in Yan’an, and he was imprisoned. In fact, a minor essay like ‘Wild Lilies’ was elementary; published in Nanjing or Shanghai it would have been nothing and would not have led to arrest. Later you even had Wang Shiwei killed. It was too inhumane.”

Mao said: “Wang Shiwei was killed after being imprisoned for several years. In 1947 when the Nationalists attacked and we withdrew from Yan’an, we took him to Shanxi. He became a burden. To reduce the burden, he was killed and thrown down a well.”

Lu said: “If you did not want him, could you not have released him? Must you kill him? Even Buddhism practices releasing living beings.”

Mao said: “The Communist Party is not Buddhism. It does not preach mercy. To preach mercy is to lack fighting spirit. You also know the Communist Party is like an iron barrel—one can enter but not leave. Whoever tries to flee is captured and shot. How could we release him?”

Lu said: “After Wang Shiwei died, his family was not even notified. His wife searched for him for over a decade and found the Organization Department, yet she was not told. It was utterly inhumane.”

Mao said: “Keeping it secret was to avoid bad influence and unfavorable public opinion.”

Lu said: “Deception and concealment will one day be exposed. You covered things up in life; after death, others will reveal them.”

Mao said: “You are a venerable elder. Had you lived to see the founding of the People’s Republic, I would have placed you in the foremost position and made great use of you.”

Lu replied: “If you had invited me north, I would have hesitated and likely not gone, perhaps going to Hong Kong instead, like Hu Shi who went to America—though I would not have gone to America. Once in Beijing, one enters a vat of sauce and an iron barrel; even if one wished to flee, one could not.”

Mao said: “Is not Guo Moruo doing well? He became Vice Premier and President of the Academy of Sciences, followed me all along, and I protected him during the Cultural Revolution. He lived to eighty-six and died peacefully.”

Lu said: “I am not Guo. Had I joined New China, I would not have been like him. I would not have abandoned exposure and criticism. I would have continued writing. Could you have tolerated that?”

Mao said: “If you continued writing those satirical essays instead of composing hymns of praise like Elder Guo, that would not have been acceptable. During the Anti-Rightist Campaign in 1957, an old friend asked me what would have happened had Lu Xun still been alive. I said either he would have understood the larger situation and kept silent, or he would have gone to prison.”

Lu laughed: “I expected you would say that. Fortunately, I left this world early. From Heaven I often look down. Hu Feng was the first you imprisoned; he followed my path and was one of those who carried my coffin. Twenty years in prison nearly drove him insane. Only a few who followed you wholeheartedly had a way to survive. The rest—Lao She, Ba Jin, Cao Yu—suffered. Even if they did not die, they could no longer write what was truly in their hearts.”

Mao said: “I anticipated that you would not accept being assigned topics and told what to write.”

Lu said: “If I accepted your directives, I would be a court writer, not the original Lu Xun.”

Mao said: “There is something I do not quite understand. Why did you oppose Zhou Yang’s Party slogan of ‘National Defense Literature’?”

Lu said: “I feared that in the name of resisting Japan and forming a united front, the interests of the people—especially workers and peasants—would be ignored. Thus I proposed ‘Mass Literature’ to replace ‘National Defense Literature,’ fearing that in the name of supporting the government’s resistance, one-party dictatorship would be practiced. Mass Literature means putting the people’s interests first, directly and plainly.”

Mao said: “Near my death in 1975, I said that Lu Xun was a sage and I was a student of the sage. I always revered you.”

Lu replied: “You always held me as a banner in your hand, dressing me up, gilding me, manipulating me as you wished. After my death I could no longer speak. Let my works and character be judged by posterity. I only hope those in power restore my true image. I hope my legacy serves the entire nation and all its people, not one party or private interest.”

Lu Xun finally said: “You ruled for thirty years. The land was filled with blood and storms, disasters and calamities, tens of millions died, yet I have not seen you repent. Your successors still follow your set of methods. Xi Jinping still promotes personality cult and seeks to be a world leader. These are all the poisonous remnants of your legacy. The Jade Emperor will hold a public trial for you. You must thoroughly confess your crimes and give an account to the tens of millions of wronged souls.”

Mao responded perfunctorily: “Yes, you are right. I am repenting. Today, after this frank conversation with you, I am further prompted to reflect and repent, in hopes of receiving a lighter sentence from the Jade Emperor.”

Lu said: “Your statement is good. I will continue to observe and see how you act.”

After hearing Lu Xun’s frank words and having said what needed to be said, Mao rose to take his leave, thanked Lu Xun, and departed.

NEXT: 66. Fu Zuoyi (1895–1974)