It was nevertheless exhausting, particularly with a companion who never relaxed the intrusive personal interrogation or the ambiguous, incriminating-reply questions. Snow visited copy-book communes epitomizing the Beijing government’s successful marriage of communism to the private enterprise system which gave the country its economic strength, visits which Snow judged not to be an entire waste of time, hopeful of their being of some interest in London. He visited another private enterprise pottery and three agricultural centres boasting self-sufficient rice harvest for a vast area. He politely admired two bicycle manufacturing plants, and was properly respectful in four Buddhist temples the only occupants of which, besides themselves, were monks who seemed surprised to see any visitors, one mosque and an archeological site which Li claimed to be the remains of one of the first Confusian meditation centres in China. Somone had chipped ‘J.W. Iowa. 1987’ in one of the larger stones. Snow wondered how the graffiti carver had been able to finish his meaningless memorial before being arrested.
But at the same time Snow collected his information from the unsuspecting official escort.
There was an area to the south-east of Wuhan, in the direction of Echeng, that Li said was impossible to visit, using a hastily concocted excuse of transport difficulties. The man went to extraordinary trouble ensuring they took a night train to Tongling, from which Snow inferred there to be something of interest that could be seen from the line: the first hour of the journey was in fading daylight, narrowing the location, and Li became agitated near Huangmei, as they were passing what appeared to be a large factory complex brightly illuminated by its own lights. At Tongling Snow suggested a Sunday cruise on the Yangtze. Li was adament they take a boat northwards down the river. From the timetable Snow calculated the southerly boats sailed for a total of two hours, before returning, from which he estimated whatever it was Li did not want him to see was between Tongling and Huaining. Shanghai, where Snow planned to remain for three days, was not officially restricted and he was initially intrigued that Li did not leave him there. On their first full day Li pressed for a trip inland, which Snow refused. In the afternoon, on a walk along the Bund, the historic road bordering the Huanpu River, Snow counted a flotilla of warships, three with what appeared to be extremely sophisticated radar and electronic equipment visible on their superstructures. Snow managed four photographs. Again he was matched by the rapidly snapping Li.
Throughout the trip Li had steadfastly insisted upon a precise division of every expenditure, but on their last night together Snow demanded to be the host for dinner. As always, Li sat them at a table that could only be occupied by two.
‘It has been a successful tour?’ asked Li.
‘Extremely interesting.’ Snow was curious at the report the man would submit. He had little doubt by now that Li was a member of the Public Security Bureau: if he was, he had to be one of their best informers. The closeness with which his movements had been monitored was something he should also report upon, to Foster, although he was personally sure he had avoided all suspicion. He’d try to make contact with the embassy man as soon as he got back: he was excited by what he had to pass on. ‘You are returning to Beijing?’
‘I am meeting a party of American tourists here in Shanghai. They are going south, as far as Tunxi.’
The reason for Li remaining with him, accepted Snow. Quickly he realized a possible benefit. ‘So many rail journeys,’ he suggested, hopefully.
‘We are travelling by car,’ disclosed Li.
Something else to pass on. Car hire was only possible for foreign visitors in China with a driver and a guide to determine the route. What was there on the road to Tunxi that had to be avoided? ‘You must miss your family?’
‘I will see them again in ten days.’
Snow determined to put the limit into his account as welclass="underline" the driving time to Tunxi could be estimated, so the length of any detour might be possible to calculate. ‘Perhaps we will meet again, if I make another vacation tour?’
‘You intend travelling again?’ demanded Li, alertly.
Snow regretted the careless remark. ‘I am always anxious to extend my understanding of China.’
‘You see your life being here?’
It was a personally intriguing question, conceded Snow. China was his first posting and he hadn’t ever imagined another. Father Robertson had to be in his sixties and should be withdrawn, although Snow suspected the old man wanted to die in the country in which he had served all his life. ‘I will remain as long as I think I can help China,’ said Snow.
‘Are you happy here?’
Another intriguing question. Snow did not honestly know if he was happy or not: spiritually he was content, but to himself he admitted there was still sometimes a tug of apprehension about his other activities. ‘Very much so.’
‘Isn’t the philosophy of China in direct contradiction to your beliefs?’
Persistently trying until the very end, thought Snow. ‘My beliefs sustain me, as yours sustain you. I do not make a comparison. My vocation here now is as a teacher, as I have already made clear.’
‘I detect some satisfaction in your attitude at the collapse of communism in the Soviet Union?’
This was verging upon desperation, decided Snow. And was pleased: it had to confirm that he had not committed any indiscretion with which Li felt he could colour his report. ‘Then I have expressed myself wrongly. I have no satisfaction about that. The population of the Soviet Union have chosen a different method of government. That is their decision.’
‘No opinion at all of your own?’
‘My opinion is that people are free to make their own choice on how and under what authority they choose to live.’
‘Some counter-revolutionaries claim the people of China are not free to choose how they live.’
Snow decided he could be straying into a conversational minefield if he allowed himself to become ensnared in such a direct debate. ‘Do they?’ he said. And stopped.
Li stared across the restaurant table, waiting for Snow to continue. The priest busied himself with his rice bowl and when that was empty made much of refilling his teacup. Li had refused wine.
‘Do you?’ pressed Li, finally.
‘Do I what?’ questioned Snow, not finding it difficult to convey the false misunderstanding.
‘Consider that the population of China is not free to choose how it lives?’
Snow fixed the frown. ‘To believe such a thing would surely make me a counter-revolutionary! Which we both know I am not.’ For the first time, in any of their fencing conversations, Snow thought he detected an angry tightening of the other man’s face. The spectacles came off once again, for a disgruntled polish.
‘From someone trained as a priest I would have expected judgements.’
‘A priest who is now a teacher.’
‘Have you abandoned your God?’
‘Of course not. It is not my function here to be a priest.’
‘You live in the temple of your faith.’
‘Church,’ corrected Snow. ‘By the instructions of the Chinese government, who wish us to act as caretakers. It is no longer used for religious purposes.’
‘I would be interested to see your temple.’
Suspecting a reason for Li’s remark, Snow said: ‘I do not, of course, conduct my classes in the church. They’re in a quite separate building.’
‘Do you pray with your class?’ demanded the man, confirming Snow’s suspicion.
‘Never,’ replied Snow. ‘They only come to learn English.’ There had only ever been one Zhang Su Lin.
‘No one has ever asked about your religion, knowing you are a priest? Able to see you live in a temple, like other priests do?’