In June 1952, under the instruction of Guo Peng, commander of the South Xinjing Military District, twenty-two-year-old Wang led over twenty family members of the advance and follow-up forces to Ngari with a convoy of camels. Among them was Little Jinjun who had just celebrated his first birthday. As a leader on the march, Wang Junzhi had to not only cooperate with the transport team, but also keep her own team in order, especially where the safety of children was concerned. For this purpose, she declared three rules as soon as the march began: firstly, their team should help the transport team pack bundles and cook for them; secondly, all grown-ups should walk fifteen kilometers every day, children could be tied on the camels; thirdly, camel riding was forbidden on dangerous roads in the mountains.
Many adults and children had bloody noses, diarrhoea and froth at the mouth while they climbed over the Daban. Fortunately, nobody died. Finally, after over half a month of arduous trekking, they crossed the snowy mountains. Wang Junzhi was reunited with her husband at Rutog, beside Bangong Lake. After another week's marching, they finally arrived at Gartok.
For the first time, Ngari saw female soldiers and Han children, who brought liveliness to this wild, snow-covered plateau. In Gartok, Wang encouraged the other women to engage in productive labor, carry mud bricks to construction sites, mend and wash soldiers' clothing and take turns to help the military cooks. Another two teams of female soldiers arrived after them. Wang trained them and saw to their well-being.
Shortly after they settled down, little Jinjun suffered from altitude sickness. At first he was bloated all over, then pus flowed from his rotting body. After Jinjun died, his parents buried him in the branchy tamarisk woods beside the Kashgar River.
In October 1952, An Zhiming was appointed as Secretary of the Party committee of Ngari, the top leader of Ngari Prefecture. In July of the next year, Wang Junzhi gave birth to a girl whom they named Ngari. In October 1954, the couple was transferred to South Xinjiang Military District in Kashgar Prefecture, where Wang starred in "Beating Back the Invaders," a grand drama performed by the art troupe of the local military district. In 1955, this art troupe was merged into that of Xinjiang Military District. Wang was assigned to teach at Bayi Children's School, during which time she also published documentary literature such as Old Father Kuojia in Xinjiang Daily.
In 1956, Wang Junzhi was falsely accused of being a Kuomintang spy, was sentenced to two years in prison, and was banished to a farm in Aksu to reform herself through labor. From then on, she was known as the "female spy" as hardly anyone knew her real name. An Ngari's life also took a turn for the worst because her parents divorced, so neither were available to take care of her. Wang worked on the farm for a long time after her release, however, during the "cultural revolution," she was struck down again as her "old scores" were brought up once more. She was made to marry another ex-prisoner to whom she bore two sons, but later they divorced because of marital discord.
Wang was restored to her military and party status in 1979 and the next year was transferred to work as an editor of Aksu Daily. She wrote a number of poems and memoirs before retirement, and her lifelong hobby was reading novels. She also spoke fluent Mandarin. When she taught the Japanese, she trained many linguistic talents for the local government.
This is the life journey of Wang Junzhi — a woman who measured her life with the passage of time year by year. If she was still alive, she would be an old woman. Words like "beautiful" and "pretty" are not enough to describe a woman in her seventies. In my heart, she is not only beautiful, but also talented. What I admire most about her is her strong willpower which kept her optimistic even after so much hardship. Every woman can be compared to a kind of flower; some are like water lilies, which grow unspoiled out of dirty mud; some are like gracious peonies, and some are like elegant orchids. Though Wang Luobin compared her to a rose in his song, I insist that she was like a wither-resistant saussurea involucrate, pure and noble. Although at the young age of twenty-four she had already left Ngari Plateau, a place where sorrow and joy coexisted, time never hurt her temperament as that elegant flower.
A woman can't be happy without the nourishment of love. A woman is pathetic if she has to waste her life because of love.
Was Wang Junzhi happy with her life?
As we all know, we are social animals and our character determines who we are. In my opinion, Wang Junzhi would have lived a happy and carefree life with any of the men that crossed her path if she wasn't involved in politics.
Unfortunately, fate put her in eventful times. Who can enjoy true tranquility on turbulent days?
At the age of twenty-six, she lost her son and her husband and, was put in jail away from her daughter. When she racked her brains to write a confession, the only feeling she had was remorse.
She was filled with remorse for the romance she had with the man in college. He was an underground intelligence officer working for the Kuomintang. Their romance later cast a shadow on her turbulent life.
The insignia on her collar and cap were removed. The former versatile and valiant female officer was suddenly condemned as a shameful spy, and those who escorted her to jail and judged her in court were all her comrades in arms and subordinates before.
To everyone in the world, men and women, ancient and modern, regardless of nationality, first love is the combination of happy memories and pure innocence. I bet Wang Junzhi wasn't happy with the memory when she was in jail.