Fu Lianzhang was the first physician of the Red Army. Over forty years he treated countless high-ranking officials and military officers, including saving Chairman Mao’s life three times. After the founding of the People’s Republic, he served as Vice Minister of Health and held the rank of lieutenant general. In 1968, during the Cultural Revolution, he died tragically in prison at the age of seventy-four.

Before his death, Fu Lianzhang repeatedly requested to see Mao, but Mao ignored him, leaving him to perish in prison. Hearing that the Jade Emperor required Mao to repent, Fu Lianzhang wanted an explanation from Mao Zedong. Dragging his heavy steps, he walked toward Mao with difficulty.

Mao looked closely—wasn’t this Fu Lianzhang? Fu was one year younger than Mao. They had known each other since 1927 in Jiangxi; they were very familiar.

Mao spoke first: “Fu Lianzhang? How did you become like this? You look eighty or ninety years old.”

Fu replied: “During the Cultural Revolution I was imprisoned. They tormented me until I was no longer human. I could not endure even half a month before I died in prison.”

Mao said: “At the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, you wrote to me asking for protection. Didn’t I approve protecting you?”

Fu said: “Yes. In 1966, when the Cultural Revolution began, they ransacked my home and subjected me to struggle sessions. You issued instructions to protect me and allowed me to move to the Western Hills to recuperate. That was not bad. But in 1968 they ransacked my home a second time and arrested me. Then you no longer protected me. At seventy-four I was imprisoned, given only cold corn buns and turnips and cabbage. I had stomach illness and could not eat corn buns. Even when I requested thin porridge, it was not given. I could only drink a few mouthfuls of vegetable soup. During interrogation and struggle sessions, they broke three of my ribs. On the last day I lay on the bed, gasping and groaning. I tried to climb up but fell onto the floor, rolling over and over, crawling about the room, finally crawling under the bed. On the morning of March 29, I lay on the cold cement floor and died like that.”

Mao said: “You died so miserably. Only half a month and it was over. I did not even know; I received no report at the time, because you were no longer an important figure.”

Fu said: “I do not understand why you did not protect me the second time. I suspect it may have been related to Lin Biao. Do you remember? In 1950 Lin Biao claimed illness and refused to lead troops into Korea. You asked me to organize specialists to examine him. The consultation determined that Lin Biao had no serious illness but had developed a morphine addiction. Ye Qun asked me to keep it secret. I agreed to keep it secret from others, but I could not conceal it from you. Perhaps Lin Biao therefore bore a grudge against me, planting the seeds of disaster. By the Cultural Revolution you had already designated Lin Biao as your successor, so you joined together against me. I was given three labels: capitalist roader, member of the ‘Three Antis,’ and Catholic spy—everything was thrown at me.”

Mao said: “But you were always engaged in medical work and had no real power. What capitalist road could you have taken?”

Fu said: “Do you still remember? In 1933 you suffered from severe dysentery and sought my treatment. I saved your life. In 1934, on the eve of the Long March, you twice suffered from malignant malaria, high fever and coma; again I rescued you. You said then that I had saved your life three times.”

Mao said: “Of course I remember. It was you who saved my life three times.”

Fu continued: “My daughter Fu Weilian and my son-in-law Chen Binghui were once ordered in Jiangxi to treat a severely wounded soldier. Because the wounds were too grave, they could not save that company commander. They were immediately labeled counterrevolutionaries, arrested, and executed on the spot. I endured grief and anger and showed even greater loyalty to the Party, doing my utmost to serve the Red Army. Besides saving you, from Jiangxi through the Long March to northern Shaanxi, I saved countless high-ranking cadres and soldiers. What crime did I commit? Is saving people a crime?”

Mao said: “You treated Zhu De, Zhou Enlai, Liu Shaoqi, Lin Biao, Chen Yun, Deng Xiaoping—everyone remembers you. On the Long March, in such hardship, you delivered He Zizhen’s child. I have not forgotten.”

Fu said: “If that is so, I still do not understand why I had to die—and in such a manner.”

Mao said: “The past is hard to explain in a few words. By the Cultural Revolution you were already outdated and no longer needed. Later you were rehabilitated, were you not?”

Fu said: “In 1975 you issued the instruction: ‘Fu has been laid to rest, alas; he should be exonerated.’ My reputation was restored. But no one assumed responsibility. I cannot rest in peace. I am not demanding that specific executors confess guilt. Those below obey those above; at the very top was you. If you acknowledge that you were the chief culprit and take responsibility for all wrongful cases, that would suffice. Everyone would then be liberated and at peace. But you have never spoken a word. Nor have your successors ever spoken on your behalf. We victims have become headless wandering souls, unable to rest to this day. Not only I—many wronged souls suffered even worse. Forty years after your death, China continues the same pattern; every year there are numerous wrongful cases. Petitioners crowd Beijing, and those seeking redress continue to be suppressed.”

Mao had to respond: “I understand what you are saying. This is also the meaning of the Jade Emperor. I am repenting and reflecting on my faults, and I will also urge my successors to reflect and repent. If there is an opportunity, please convey my words to the Jade Emperor.”

Having obtained such a statement from Mao, Fu Lianzhang said no more for the time being. He rose, bade farewell, and gradually withdrew into the distance.

NEXT: 68. Deng Tuo (1912–1966)