At eleven o'clock, two hours into the politburo meeting, Wang Dongxing summoned Wu Jie, Hu Xudong, and me to an anteroom of Huairen Hall. He had asked doctors Wu Jieping and Bian Zhiqiang to come, too. We waited in silence as the meeting continued in the adjacent room.

Then Yao Wenyuan came out. “Jiang Qing wants me to talk to you,” he said. He turned to Wu Jieping and Bian Zhiqiang. “You two are not involved in treating Chairman,” he said, “but perhaps you can help us assess the situation.

“Chairman's health has always been good,” Yao began. “Whenever he attends a public function or receives foreign guests, our news releases always say that he looks wonderful, vigorous, that his face is ruddy and glowing with health. It's not empty talk.” He showed us a photograph of the recent meeting between Mao and the North Vietnamese premier Pham Van Dong. “Look at this. Look how powerful the Chairman's handshake is. He has a cold now, nothing serious. You claim that the Chairman has a problem with his lungs and his heart. Where is your evidence? You are even talking about some so-called congestive heart failure. It's obvious that you're just making this up to disturb the public. I'm not saying you have political problems, but you're creating political confusion. You have to take responsibility for it.” The photograph of Mao and the North Vietnamese premier was a still. It was impossible to see how weak he had been, and I had no way of knowing whether Yao Wenyuan had seen the television broadcast.

Yao asked us to explain. I could say nothing. He had already made up his mind. Yao turned to doctors Wu Jieping and Bian Zhiqiang. They were also silent.

“If you have nothing to say, then you can leave,” Yao said. “You will be notified of the politburo's decision.”

It was two o'clock in the morning by then. We returned to the swimming pool. None of us could sleep, and Wu Jie was trembling in fear. He was sixty-four years old, twelve years my senior, and had already suffered years of persecution. He had been a member of the Guomindang and president of Beijing Hospital before 1949, and when the Cultural Revolution began he had been badly beaten and confined to a “cow shed” for three years, then forced to do hard labor. He was afraid he would be arrested again.

I tried to comfort him. Everything we had done for Mao—the physical exam, our diagnosis, our treatment—had had Mao's approval. Mao was seriously ill, but not dead. He would vouch for us. What was most important was that we had never harmed him or had any intention of hurting him.

But I was worried. Mao was very sick, and without medication he would only get worse. We needed his support. And I was worried about what the politburo might do. It was hardly a fair and impartial body.

At four o'clock in the morning we were summoned back to Huairen Hall. This time we brought Mao's electrocardiogram. Any doctor could see that Mao had two serious heart conditions—ventricular extrasystol, or premature heartbeat; and cardiac ischemia, an insufficient blood supply to the heart.

While we waited, two other politburo members came out to meet with us—Marshal Ye Jianying and Vice-Premier Li Xiannian. Ye Jianying did the talking. Ye was unfailingly polite to me and always called me President Li, because I was president of the 305 Hospital.

“The politburo has asked us to talk to you again about Chairman's health,” he said. “Don't be nervous. Just tell us clearly what the problem is.”

I started from the beginning, describing the deterioration in Chairman's health after the Lin Biao affair and continuing to his current condition. I showed him the electrocardiogram, going over it in great detail, pointing out the problems as revealed on the chart. Ye Jianying himself had heart problems and had taken many electrocardiograms. He understood what I was trying to convey and examined the chart very carefully, listening intently to my explanation.

“It's clear he has heart problems,” he finally said. “How can anyone say he does not? How can anyone say the doctors have simply invented their findings?”

Then he began asking about the meeting between Mao, me, Zhou Enlai, and Jiang Qing. I reported the conversation in detail, including Mao's apparent designation of Zhou Enlai as his successor.

Ye assured us that we had made no mistakes. “I don't see why you should assume responsibility for stopping treatment. The Chairman has ordered it. None of you has to worry. Return to the swimming pool now and start preparing for further treatment. Get the emergency equipment ready, too. From now on, I will be on duty in the swimming pool myself. If you run into problems, just let me know.”

Ye turned to Li Xiannian, who had not said a word, and asked if he had any questions. Li still had nothing to say. Ye Jianying dismissed us. We returned to the swimming pool. By then it was about seven o'clock in the morning.

A great burden had been lifted from our minds. Ye Jianying had intervened on our behalf. We began discussing how best to treat the Chairman, and as our spirits rose, Wu Jie almost smiled. We had a bite to eat and went to sleep.

When I woke at three that afternoon, Ye Jianying was waiting. Wu Jie and Hu Xudong were already with him when I joined them in the reception room.

“I'm on duty now,” Ye Jianying said when I came in. “Let's have a chat. President Li, you have been working for Chairman for eighteen years. We all know you very well. You must do what you think is necessary now. Don't worry about the criticisms. We all have occasional setbacks. Who can say he hasn't?”

Then he turned to Wu Jie. “Director Wu, you have been a doctor for decades. You have saved many lives. Many of those people were older than Chairman. Can you help Chairman recover now?”

Wu's response was immediate. “If Chairman allows us to treat him, we can make him well.”

Ye smiled. “Good. Chairman does not want treatment now. He is angry. But when he gets over that, he'll need your help.”

Then Ye Jianying turned to Hu Xudong, who, at forty years old, was twelve years my junior. “I have not met you before,” he said. “You look like the youngest of the three doctors.” Ye thought Hu Xudong could do the physical work involved in treating Mao, like taking care of the oxygen tanks and the respirator.

Ye left the swimming pool at about five that evening, and the two doctors returned to the Zhongnanhai Clinic. I stayed at the swimming pool.

That evening Wang Dongxing wanted a report on Mao's condition. But I had not seen the Chairman since the night before and was reluctant to see him now. Wang agreed. “Don't rush it,” he said. “Otherwise things will get worse.”

Wang briefed me on the politburo meeting the night before. Jiang Qing had claimed that there was a spy ring around the Chairman and demanded that the politburo conduct an investigation. Wang Hongwen, Zhang Chunqiao, and Yao Wenyuan, her three closest supporters, agreed. A ruckus ensued. Wang Dongxing wanted to quash the investigation, but Ye Jianying had cautioned him to remain quiet. “He put his palm on my knee and pressed it, signaling me that the time was not right,” Wang said. “In the meantime, Premier Zhou tried to calm everyone down, asking everyone to be patient and talk things over slowly.”

Jiang Qing, though, had thrown the politburo meeting into confusion. “The Chairman is in good health,” she had said, addressing Zhou. “Why are you forcing him to transfer power to you?” It was then that she had asked Yao Wenyuan to represent the politburo and meet with the doctors, sending also for Wu Jieping and Bian Zhiqiang.

But other members of the politburo, not privy to the conversation between Mao, Zhou Enlai, Jiang Qing, and me, had no idea what Jiang Qing was talking about when she said Zhou was forcing Mao to hand over power to him. Ye Jianying had asked Zhou to explain. “The Chairman is ill and has said some things,” Ye responded after Zhou had reported on the meeting with Mao. “Why is everyone so excited? Why does it matter so much?” He wanted Li Xiannian to accompany him and hear the doctors' side of the story and said that he would stay on duty at the swimming pool.

But Jiang Qing did not want Ye Jianying standing vigil at the pool. “No one is supposed to be near the Chairman unless he agrees,” she said. Wang then asked Ye to limit his time at the pool.

Wang Dongxing was worried about Mao's health. “No matter what, I think you have to try to get Chairman to start treatment,” he told me. “We cannot delay much longer.”

Mao had just awakened when I returned to the swimming pool. With his heart trouble, he could only sleep sitting up and he had fallen asleep on his sofa. His breathing was still loud and laborious.

I went in to see him. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing rapidly, the phlegm from his lungs making a gurgling sound. His lips were gray. He still did not ask for treatment, so I left.

I ran into Xu Yefu in the reception room. He was on his way to see Wu Xujun with some documents for Mao. “Something odd just happened, Dr. Li,” he said. “Jiang Qing took me and Zhang Yufeng aside to tell us that there is a spy ring around Chairman Mao. She told us to keep our eyes open and asked me to sleep in the small room next to Chairman so I can watch what is happening. I tried to explain that since I don't have any medical training I could not be of much help to Chairman. Then I talked to Director Wang Dongxing, and he told me to ignore her. Now I don't know what I'm supposed to do.” I had no advice to give.

Mao's edema worsened. His neck and forehead were visibly swollen. I was growing increasingly anxious. The Chairman's illness was acute, worsening, yet nothing was being done. Zhang Yufeng was often with him, but she would also disappear for long periods. She was busy helping her parents and her sister move from Mudanjiang to Beijing, and Beijing mayor Wu De was helping her.

Ten days passed. Still Mao did not ask for treatment.

Then, on the afternoon of February 1, he called for me.

“Do you think there is any hope?” he asked. “Would you still be able to help me recover?”

“If you will let us treat you, of course there is hope,” I said. Already I could feel a flood of relief. “I will do everything I can to help you.”

I took his pulse. It was weak and irregular.

“What is your treatment?” Mao wanted to know.

“We still have to get rid of your lung infection, get your heart stimulated again, and do something about relieving the buildup of fluid in your body. We have to give you both shots and some oral medication.”

“Still those injections?”

“If we don't use injections, there is no way to get rid of your lung infection, and the lung infection is the cause of all your other problems,” I insisted.

“All right,” Mao said finally. “Let's start the treatment.”

I had been close to despair. Suddenly I was ecstatic, so relieved that my energy surged. I was determined to make Mao well. As time had slipped by and Mao still refused our treatment, my concern was not merely with his immediate health. For weeks I had been burdened by a fact still secret from the Chinese people. China's history was about to be transformed. President Nixon was coming to China. He was scheduled to arrive on February 21. Mao wanted to meet with him. I had three weeks to make him well. We swung into action immediately.

The origin of Nixon's visit goes back to the World Table Tennis Tournament held in Nagoya, Japan, in late March 1971. On March 14 of that year, the China National Committee on Sports debated whether to send a team to the tournament. At that time, China and Japan had no diplomatic relations. Some members of the National Committee were worried that Japanese rightists and Guomindang agents might harm our players, and many other committee members were not in favor of the expedition for a variety of reasons. Zhou Enlai, however, wanted the Chinese team to go to Japan, and wrote to Mao for his approval. Mao agreed, and told the players that they should fear neither hardship nor death. The table tennis team became the first Chinese sports team to travel abroad since the Cultural Revolution.

Toward the end of the games, several American players suggested to the Chinese team that they would like to visit China, and hoped they could be invited. This request soon came to the attention of Zhou Enlai, who passed it on to Mao with the recommendation that the American team be told that a visit might be possible at some future time—a polite rejection. Mao received Zhou's report on April 6, 1971, agreed with it, and returned it to Zhou. But at midnight of that same day, as Mao was finishing his dinner, and I had given him his sedatives, he asked head nurse Wu Xujun, in drowsy, slurred speech, to call Wang Hairong, chief of protocol at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He wanted to invite the American team to China right away. Mao was on the point of falling asleep when Wu repeated Mao's words to him, to confirm that she had the message right. Mao nodded and fell sound asleep.

This was the first time that China had proposed a clear and open offer of friendship to the United States. Zhou Enlai later commented, “A small ball shakes the big ball,” referring to the effect that this table tennis match would have on the future of the world.