It was a big party with more than 100 guests. Mao approached my father, and I was introduced. He seemed to me like a giant: so tall, so big, but also so kind. He patted my head, asked me a few questions and then said, You kids must be bored to be with us adults. I am asking Comrade Jiang Qing, his wife, to take you all to the garden. You will surely like that much better.
It was 13 years before I saw him again. The occasion was another dinner party to which my father had been invited and permitted to bring a daughter. It was Mao’s 70th birthday.