Vignette 1: Huang Hsiang, chief staff writer for the Mandarin Daily News. Huang Hsiang was an officer of railroad troops. In 1949, he fought in the battle to defend Shanghai. When he realized that Shanghai could not be held, he sent his eight-months-pregnant wife and his four children to his family home in Pinghu County, Chekiang. With that they were separated for forty years.

Today, because relations between the two sides of the Taiwan Straits have eased, four or five years ago Huang Hsiang was able to contact his wife, and then to visit. Except for one son who has died of illness, his children, including the daughter who was still in the womb, were there, and all over forty.

"When I went back, I found three sons, a daughter, plus two grandsons, three granddaughters, and a niece," a full house.

Looking back over that period, Huang, with typical military stoicism, proclaims that everyone was the toy of fate. He has no complaints toward his family or his country. His only hope is that the policy of permitting family visits is not changed: "To not let somebody go home, that's too inhumane!" Huang now returns about once a year.

His greatest regret is that because of his background his children were labelled as "the black fifth category," and were not allowed to have any schooling.

Vignette 2: Lin Amei, Hakka, four children, homemaker.

Lin Amei's husband was originally from Kueilin, in Kwanghsi. During the war he joined the youth brigades, and met Lin only after coming to Taiwan.

After many decades, completely out of the blue, her husband received a letter from his hometown. It said that his father had died from oppression by the communists, and that his mother also died an early death. His wife in the mainland never remarried, and had a son and four grandchildren. Only then did Lin Amei know that her husband had another family.

Lin Amei's husband went back once, but this didn't disrupt the ties with his Taiwan family. On the contrary, because so many years had passed, there was no sentiment between him and "that one on the mainland," and even his own child was a stranger to him.

Lin is happily convinced that her choice to help her husband go back without crying or struggling was the right one: "Thinking back to the beginning, if I had gotten tough and argued, or prevented him from going back, what would the outcome be now?"

Vignette 3: Li Kwang-ming (a pseudonym). A soldier originally from Taiwan, he raised two daughters in the mainland, and has a son in Taiwan.

Li Kwang-ming has a wife on each side of the water, but for most in similar straits the original wife is in the mainland. His first wife, however, was in Taiwan. Others go to the mainland on family visits; he returns to this island.

Li is one of the old soldiers left in the mainland after 1949. A year ago, after getting permission, he made it back to Taiwan with great difficulty. (See the accompanying "Story of Li Kwang-ming.") With roles reversed, is Li's tale turning out any differently than the mainlanders now in Taiwan?

Similar stories could be told about the neighbors, one's uncle, or your best friend's parents. What has been the social impact of the policy of allowing family visits? If you just look at the level of the family, the greatest waves have been generated by those "men with two wives."

The plots differ, but the structure is always the same: Men with wives on the mainland were forced to leave because of the war. Afterwards communication was severed. Later, in Taiwan, they married anew, thinking they would never see their wives "on the other side" again. But the family visit policy has changed the look of these situations.

Many men go back and see their former wives. Leaving those who remarried out of it, there are those who still waited. And if there are children, the regret is all the greater. Most men, whatever their ability, deliver money or goods to improve the quality of life and compensate for the heartache. But when the material side is finished, what should the outcome be?

Some men, like Huang Hsiang, remain in Taiwan but go back to visit often. Others, after seeing their former wives, because of problems over property or inheritance, decide "this is it, there won't be a next time." Some have Taiwan wives who won't make allowances, and block the visits altogether. (Though in general most Taiwan wives are extremely understanding.) Others do everything they can to bring their mainland wives to Taiwan.

Whatever the outcome, few can avoid having conflicting emotions. "A man with two households is really nothing to envy," is the way Li Kwang-ming puts it. What's more, having two households creates extremely sticky legal problems.

Because ROC law provides a maximum five-year prison term for bigamy, there was much discussion about what kinds of legal problems these men with two wives would face. But since the law requires one of the wives to bring suit, the legal authorities did not pursue the issue. It was not until the "Teng Yuan-chen case" began to attract media attention that the legal problems came into the spotlight.

"The case of Teng Yuan-chen" is like this: In 1940, Teng, who now lives in Taichung, married a girl surnamed Chen in Fukien. In 1949 he came to Taiwan, and in 1960 married Wu Hsiu-ch'in. In 1986, Teng's mainland wife employed a Hong Kong solicitor to file a lawsuit in Taiwan to have the Teng-Wu union annulled. This is precisely what happened, after numerous appeals, making the Wu marriage illegal and making the children illegitimate. This meant that rights of child support, inheritance, and property were all compromised for the countless people like Teng and Wu.

In April 1989, Teng appealed to the Grand Council of Justices, who reversed the decision on constitutional grounds. This decision brought immediate relief to families in similar circumstances. The Executive Yuan further proposed temporary regulations to deal with these problems, which stipulated that none of the affected parties in these cases could bring suit, and that if both husband and wife had remarried, the first marriage was considered dissolved. The rules also provided amnesty for these "bigamists."

In addition, the "two wives" issue raised legal problems on the mainland. The draft regulations there are far more complex and detailed than in Taiwan, but restrictions governing inheritance are much greater for the latter.

Currently, the government has already ordered that the Temporary Provisions Effective During the Period of Communist Rebellion be terminated. In the foreseeable future, cases involving the two sides will develop in the direction of "private international law." That is, Taiwan and the mainland will be treated as two separate "legal jurisdictions" and the concepts for dealing with "conflicts of law between two jurisdictions" will be employed.

Under these principles, notes David J.W. Wang, Director of the Graduate Institute of Law at the Chinese Cultural University, "The main principles such as stabilizing existing marital relations or not pursuing legal liability for problems created by the passage of time will not change." Wang says this is the consensus of legal circles on both sides.

Problems like this are annoying, but exchanges between the two sides constitute a major breakthrough. It will benefit those in current disputes as well as generations to come.

[Picture Caption]

The fate of marriages in the chaos of war is a favorite theme for movies. The photo is a scene from the film Banana Paradise. (photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation)

In the film Both Sides of China Sun Yueh played an old mainlander soldier who took his Taiwan wife to meet his mainland children at the train station in Kowloon, Hong Kong. This scene has been oft-repeated in real life since the liberalization of family visits. (photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation)

A Huang Hsiang Taiwan family portrait. (photo courtesy of Huang Hsiang)

The home of Huang Hsiang's mainland granddaughter. From the photo you can see that her life is not bad. (photo courtesy of Huang Hsiang)

In the film Both Sides of China Sun Yueh and his wife and daughter look at old photos together with looks of remembrance on their faces. (photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation)

Lin Amei (seated) at her Taiwan home. Who would give up such a happy home? (photo courtesy of Lin Amei)

Lin Amei's husband's mainland wife and their four grandchildren. (photo courtesy of Lin Amei)

In the film Both Sides of China Sun Yueh played an old mainlander soldier who took his Taiwan wife to meet his mainland children at the train station in Kowloon, Hong Kong. This scene has been oft-repeated in real life since the liberalization of family visits. （photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation）

A Huang Hsiang Taiwan family portrait. （photo courtesy of Huang Hsiang）

The home of Huang Hsiang's mainland granddaughter. From the photo you can see that her life is not bad. （photo courtesy of Huang Hsiang）

In the film Both Sides of China Sun Yueh and his wife and daughter look at old photos together with looks of remembrance on their faces. （photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation）

Lin Amei （seated） at her Taiwan home. Who would give up such a happy home? （photo courtesy of Lin Amei）

Lin Amei's husband's mainland wife and their four grandchildren. （photo courtesy of Lin Amei）