March 5, 1983
Gripping the edge of the desk, his left knuckles turning white, Lu Yuan-shan felt around its underside with his trembling right hand. With a bad back forcing him into an awkward bend, he groped blindly for what felt like minutes but was probably just seconds. At last, he located the latch and pulled it. A small, pocket-size strongbox fell into his waiting hand. With a loud groan, he stood up. Squinting at the combination lock, he slowly turned the numeric dial. Click. Lu lifted the lid and retrieved the sole item inside: a neatly folded, yellowing piece of paper.
He gingerly caressed the delicate document. For the past sixteen years, he had been its keeper. No one—not even his family—knew of its existence. “Well, that’s not entirely true,” the old man thought to himself, “Wang Kai-ling knew. May he rest in peace.”
Leaning heavily on his cane, Lu called for his son, “Jin-yan, let’s go!”
Sixteen Years Ago
The country was embroiled in a civil war, and things were not looking good for President Huang. His government was losing ground to the insurgents. Rumors swirled that Huang planned to flee to the United States at any moment, but Lu Yuan-shan paid no heed to such speculations. As a devoted follower, he defended the president vehemently to anyone who would listen.
“President Huang is a military genius and a marvelous leader. Yes, there have been setbacks, but don’t let these shake your support or dim your faith. We must stand united behind him. He would never abandon the nation. He would never forsake us!” he asserted.
On a beautiful autumn morning in 1967, Wang Kai-ling, the head of secret services, summoned Lu to his office at the Party’s headquarters. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, the room fell into an awkward silence. Wang scrutinized the young man, pleased with his clean-shaven face and crisp attire, and waited for him to look away, squirm, or show any sign of discomfort. Known for his fondness for nerve-wrecking confidence tests, Wang often subjected his subordinates to a variety of tense standoffs. As his deputy, Lu was well-acquainted with these mind games. He actually quite enjoyed the challenge, though he would never admit it to Wang.
Minutes ticked by, neither breaking eye contact. At last, Wang smiled and broke the silence. Pushing an envelope across the table, he said, “Yuan-shan, you have quite mastered the art of the poker face. Excellent work! Anyway, I am not asking you to come here today for a staring contest. Let’s cut to the chase. You have been with us for, what is it, two decades at least? Your unwavering devotion to the Party and the president is well-known and highly appreciated. You see, the insurgents are relentless. It’s hard to say where we will all be even a week from now.”
Seeing the alarmed, surprised look on Lu’s face, Wang rushed to assure him, “No, no, President Huang is not giving up!” Nodding toward the envelope, Wang continued, “But it never hurts to have a Plan B. Through a trusted contact, I opened a Swiss bank account in your name and deposited ten million U.S. dollars. You can think of this as one of the president’s emergency funds.” Wang paused to take a sip of tea and then added, “I pray for President Hung to lead us to a swift victory. Yet every day, more bad news! In due course, I will fill you in with what I have in mind, and how best the money can be used to aid the president and our battered nation. Now, can you give me your word that you will safeguard this intel with the utmost care and secrecy?”
Nodding solemnly, Lu promised, “Absolutely, Sir. I will never betray your trust!
Satisfied, Wang leaned back to his seat and said, “Excellent, I know I can count on you!” After a brief pause, he added, “I am sure you have a lot of questions, but I am not at liberty to disclose more at this moment. You should know two things, however.
First, President Huang is not aware of this arrangement. He’s brilliant and progressive, but he’s also superstitious—surprisingly so! He may regard this as a lack of confidence in him, and he will not take it kindly. You see, our fearless, benevolent leader is quite a paradox. Isn’t that interesting?
Second, you and your family will be under constant surveillance. We trust you, of course, but there’s no harm in being extra attentive. After all, we have a huge sum of money at stake here. Are we clear?”
Jumping to his feet, Lu saluted and declared, “Sir, I am honored to be of use to the Party. I will guard this with my life!’
Seven Months Later, in 1968
President Huang retreated to his stronghold in the southwest after signing a ceasefire treaty with the insurgents, effectively ceding control of the rest of the country.
Humiliated by the blow and eager to control the narrative, President Huang arrested several of his generals and top government officials, including Wang and Lu. “These buffoons! Their utter incompetence and disloyalty”, he announced in a televised address, “were why we lost the war. I was blindsided by them, but no more! My fellow countrymen, the wheel of justice is turning. I will see to it that these traitors get what they deserve!”
Three days later, on May 10, a military tribunal found seventeen men guilty of various charges. Wang Kai-ling, along with 5 others was executed that evening. Lu Yuan-shan and the rest all received life sentences.
Imprisonment
Lu was determined to survive—preferably without compromising his integrity. During the self-criticism and confessional sessions at the prison yard, he was always the first to volunteer to go on stage. For the next ten minutes or so, he sobbed and screamed, berating himself for being such a disappointment to President Huang. However, anyone listening closely might have noticed that Lu never admitted to any specific misdeed; his whole confession was just word salad. Whenever pressured to denounce Wang Kai-ling, he turned banshee crazy, his words so jumbled that no one could understand them.
Lu held his late boss in high esteem. The dead can’t speak for themselves, and he did not want to speak ill of the dead. So he resorted to theatrics—pulling his hair, beating his chest, that sort of thing. The louder he cried and the crazier he acted, the less attention everyone paid to what he actually said. Or didn’t say.
For almost a year and a half, Lu continued his scripted performance. Even off stage, he maintained the act. He was cordial and pleasant most of the time but would become unhinged if anyone broached the subjects of the civil war or Wang Kai-ling. Eventually, everyone, including his family, was convinced that Lu was experiencing a mental breakdown. At the urging of a prison doctor, the warden agreed to spare Lu from attending further self-criticism and confessional sessions.. Despite this, Lu feared the reprieve might be a trap meant to smoke out any deceit, so he never let down his guard.
On February 12, 1983, President Huang died of a massive heart attack. His dull and forgettable Vice President, Kong Tai, assumed the top job. Seemingly overnight, the once unremarkable man became an engaging, charismatic politician. Daring, even!
In a public speech, he apologized for how President Huang had gone overzealous in assigning blame for the loss of the civil war. He mourned the six lives lost during the purge of 1968, and promised to release the remaining eleven men. Thus, after fourteen years, nine months, and sixteen days, Lu at last walked out of prison a free man. When he reached home, he made a beeline to his study and felt immense relief when he found the strongbox and its content exactly where he had left them.
A Journey to Closure
Gentle waves hitting against the shoreline were a sight Lu Yuan-shan would never tire of watching. Holding a steaming cup of jasmine tea, he slowly made his way across the estate to his favorite vantage point, a stone bench by the cliff.
Lu moved to this little paradise shortly after his one and only meeting with President Kong on March 5, 1983. Insisting on a private audience, he asked the president to have his chief of staff and press secretary wait with Jin-yan in the reception area. Once they were alone, Lu relayed everything from his conversation with Wang Kai-ling back in the autumn of 1967, then handed over the Swiss bank account details. The look on President Kong’s face—turning from feigned politeness to wide-eyed astonishment—was priceless. When the president finally regained some measure of composure, he said, “Mr. Lu, I am at a loss for words! Our party had failed you so spectacularly; nevertheless, you came to me with this amazing gift. I-I-I’m stunned!”
After a brief pause to regulate his breathing, the president continued, “We are deeply indebted to you, Mr. Lu. Rest assured that my government will make good use of the money. It’s unfortunate that we may never find out if there were others who had been entrusted with the country’s missing fortune, but it’s pointless to dwell on the matter any further.”
Slapping his hands hard on the knees, President Kong leaned forward and implored earnestly, “Your honesty is unparalleled, exemplary. There must be something I or the Party can do for you. What is it? Please tell me, I insist!”
Anticipating the question, Lu replied, “I am a frail old man. Who knows how many years are left in me? Let me just come straight to the point. I have but one request. I would like you to take my son, Jin-yan, under your wing. He was only thirteen years old when I was sent to jail. Having a father so publicly disgraced, he was bullied relentlessly, and was denied many opportunities. He never blamed me though. What a good son!” Dabbing away tears with a handkerchief, Lu continued, “I want to make it up to him. Give him the best chance possible. Let him work for you and prove his worth. Can you do that?”
President Kong smiled and said, “Mr. Lu, your humility astonishes me. Yes, I will take care of Jin-yan and personally see to it that there’s no more hindrance to his career. If he is as capable as his old man, I promise you, it’s going to be smooth sailing from this point forward!” With that, the two men shook hands and parted ways.
True to his word, President Kong first hired Jin-yan as his personal secretary and then, in 1987, nominated him to run for public office, which he won in a landslide. Although Jin-yan did not know why the Party suddenly took a shine to him, he knew his father must have helped set things in motion. For that, he’s forever grateful.
Seeing Jin-yan’s political career flourish, Lu found solace in the quiet life he had carved out for himself. Sitting by the cliff, he watched the waves, reflecting on the sacrifices he had made and the secrets he had kept. He thought of Wang Kai-ling and, not for the first time, marveled at the man’s foresight.
There was one thing he had held back from telling President Kong at their meeting: Beyond the initial revelation in the autumn of 1967, Wang had brought up the Swiss bank account once more.
During their trial, as they were being led to the court side by side, Wang discreetly slipped a note into Lu’s pocket. Lu did not discover it until after Wang’s execution. The note, hastily written, read,
“Farewell, Yuan-shan. If you survive this, consider giving ‘it’ to Kong Tai; I reckon he’d be in a position of power by then. He is a shrewd, cunning man, yet he is also scrupulous. He will do right by ‘it’ and your family.
You’ve always been steadfast and true to our cause. I have immense trust in your judgment. Since ‘it’ is in your name, the choice is yours.
Long live the Party, long live the nation!”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lu Yuan-shan smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. He had weathered the storms and emerged with his integrity unscathed. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, savoring the calming scent of jasmine tea mingled with the salty sea air. Now, he could rest, knowing that he had done his duty and that his legacy would live on through his son. He had given his all, and in this serene moment, he found perfect contentment.