17
It was time we visited Li’s family again, and this trip was actually becoming more urgent. Niang had been in and out of hospital over the last couple of years after a stroke. Dia was coming up to his eighty-fourth birthday and was in poor health too, due to his own stroke four years earlier. He had been left unable to speak but had been living at home with Niang. Now she’d had a second stroke and been hospitalised again.
All of Li’s family would be together for the first time in ages and we were looking forward to it immensely. Sophie and Tom could practise their Chinese and Bridie could get to know her father’s side of the family better. Li could also update his family about the movie, and I just wanted to see Niang and Dia again.
I had just started to pack when our plans came crashing down. Li’s mobile rang and I saw the colour drain from his face. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked when he got off the phone, fearing the worst.
‘It’s Dia. He’s in intensive care,’ he told me. ‘They want me to get there immediately. My brothers think he may not make it.’
‘Oh my God. What happened?’
‘My fifth brother didn’t say, but I just need to get there,’ Li said, upset. ‘They haven’t told Niang yet. They’re worried it’ll be too much of a shock for her while she is still in the hospital recovering.’
‘Oh no, Li. You need to tell her,’ I said.
So it was decided that Li would go alone, and as quickly as possible. He caught the first flight he could get. I was beside myself with worry and waited anxiously for his call. Finally, it came.
‘Mary, Dia is still unconscious, but it’s only the medications keeping him breathing.’
‘What about Niang? Did you decide to tell her?’ I asked.
‘Yes, we did. She just closed her eyes. She sobbed, Mary. I have never seen her like this before. It’s heartbreaking.’
‘Oh, darling. And have you found out what caused Dia’s illness?’
‘Dia had a bowel blockage that caused severe pain in his stomach, but with everyone’s attention focused on Niang in the hospital, he didn’t tell anyone until it was too late. He is too far gone, and we have to let him go.’ Li’s voice was choked with emotion.
‘Oh, Li. I’m so sorry! I wish I could be there with you.’
Niang was being cared for in the same hospital, so they wheeled her to Dia’s bedside to say a final goodbye.
‘She called his name and looked at him tenderly for such a long time. She told him to go and wait for her, and then cried and cried,’ Li told me.
‘I’m so sorry, Li!’ I didn’t know what else to say.
A day later, Dia passed away. The brothers were devastated. Dia had been so special to all of us. Sophie felt the loss acutely, as she had a special connection with Li’s parents. They had such strength, perseverance and love for each other and their family. Even though I was sad, I also felt very blessed to have known and loved them. I knew I would have this feeling in my heart for them always, just as I did when I thought of my own father.
Li would stay for the funeral, an event that lasts for three days in China. Dia always said that he would go before Niang, but Niang insisted that he was as strong as an ox and he’d outlive her. She had put huge love and care into making their burial clothes in a meticulous way according to Chinese tradition.
Dia’s body was kept in the cooling room at the hospital, which was different to the old times, when the body of a loved one would be laid in an open coffin in the family’s living room for three days of grieving, kowtowing and weeping. But the law no longer allowed dead bodies to be openly displayed; instead, Li and his brothers placed a photo of Dia on a table in the living room at Li’s parents’ apartment. Dia’s name and birthdate were written in big black characters on a white card, and candles and incense holders were placed on either side of it. This would be Dia’s spirit’s temporary resting place until the cremation. The Lis’ relatives and the whole village would come to pay their respects. I was very relieved to hear that Li’s blood brother, the Bandit, was by his side during this time.
Two burial plots side by side had been purchased by the family. Li told me that the setting was ‘surrounded by hills with a small lake and an alley, and it has a pagoda, a shrine of the god of mercy and good feng shui’. I could just imagine it being a beautiful resting place for Dia.
Li would not be home for three weeks. He was helping to manage Niang’s discharge from hospital and transition to home. She was mainly confined to a wheelchair, couldn’t feed herself, and would need a full-time carer. Li stayed with her, sleeping in the same bed, feeding her and helping her with toileting. I was desperate for him to come home, but knew this was something he needed to do.
When he finally returned, he was still devastated and struggling to come to terms with the loss of his beloved Dia.
Li’s movie was finally ready, and it became something to distract us from Dia’s passing. We were invited to a private screening. I was really nervous. This was Li’s story – what had they done with it? I hadn’t seen any footage, not even photographs. I reassured myself that Bruce Beresford had never made a bad movie, and prayed for the best.
On the night of the screening, Li was running late getting home from work. Thank goodness Mum had flown down for the screening, too. We waited with the children at the Gold Class theatre in Chapel Street, not far from home. Jan Sardi and Jane Scott were there to greet us. As we waited for Li to arrive, I got more and more agitated. I’m quite a private person and was deeply anxious about seeing our lives up on the big screen. How could he be late for his own movie? By the time he finally arrived, I was fuming.
Watching the film of Mao’s Last Dancer for the first time with Li and the children that night was an incredibly intense experience. We couldn’t take our eyes off the screen. Niang and Dia were portrayed beautifully by famous Chinese actors. That was very important to both of us, particularly after Dia’s death. We shed tears seeing them together again on the screen.
Before we knew it, the film was over. There was so much to love about the adaptation, which was a huge relief. All the actors were well cast. Joan Chen as Niang gave a tear-jerking performance, and Shuangbao Wang portrayed Dia with great humility and authenticity. The three actors playing Li at different ages did him proud, especially the Birmingham Royal Ballet principal dancer Chi Cao as the adult Li. He was brilliant. I couldn’t believe that Bruce had made him and other ballet dancers good actors, as he had promised. And for him to get into China and shoot some of the sensitive scenes was nothing short of a miracle.
I never thought I’d experience anything like it in my lifetime. Seeing our lives unfold on screen wasn’t something I would have wished for. But this was Li’s life story, and I was so happy for him. I’m not someone who believes in fate, but after the screening I got the feeling that the film was always meant to be. Li’s extraordinary story was one that had to be told, and Niang and Dia had to live on. They were too special not to.
I turned to Li and he was in tears, emotional and relieved. I kissed him and said, ‘It was great, Li. It’s an incredible film.’ He just nodded.
I looked at Coralie, keen for her opinion. ‘What did you think, Mum?’