I am part of my lover, part of his work and part of China's future.

In his bed, I am tame, settled. He is exhausted. He falls right to sleep when his head hits the pillow. He hasn't been able to sleep for days. I get up and cook noodles and vegetables. I know that he will want to eat when he wakes. He eats a lot. Three bowls. It makes me laugh to think about the way he eats. He apologizes for his manners but continues to eat. He calls himself a toilet that flushes the food down.

I cross my legs on the floor and watch him sleep. His sweet, boylike face. Sometimes he drools. He is so tired he sleeps in his coat; he hasn't the energy to take it off. I don't wake him. I take off his shoes, slowly and gently. There is a truck passing by outside on the street. I am afraid that he will wake. But he is fine, keeps dreaming.

I lie down next to him and fall asleep myself. Once in a while the noise outside keeps me up. I feel that I haven't seen him for so long that I still miss him. I am afraid that he will wake and tell me that he has to move on.

I take off his coat, shirt and pants. I push him toward the wall side of the bed. He doesn't wake up. Maybe he just knows that it is me and knows what I am going to do.

He has told her that he loves it, loves what she does when he is dreaming. He says that she always knows when he has a steaming dream. He is too busy to feed his body, and the desire comes in his dreams. She knows the timing-when, exactly, he needs her.

It usually begins with a towel. For he is covered with dust and sweat. She rubs him with the cloth. A few strokes, the towel turns brown. She moves around, tosses the towel in hot water. Sometimes he turns around, in half sleep, as if to help her out. A born pleasure seeker, he used to describe himself. It has to do with his background, a bourgeois family spoiled with comforts. What makes him a revolutionary? She has no idea. There are such people in the Communist Party. What do they risk their heads for? It isn't food, she is sure. The power to control? The love of country? Or just following an instinct-to be a bigger man than the rest?