"Wang Pao-chuan [a woman awarded by the Emperor for her devotion to her lost husband] waited only 18 years, I've waited forty," says Lin Ah-yueh about her husband's departure, unable to hold back the tears.

Lin Ah-yueh married Li Kwang-ming when she was just 19. Less than half a year later, Li left for the mainland. "I even gave him the 20 dollars for the train fare," she says, still upset when she thinks about it. She was five months pregnant at the time; Li's son is now 43.

Li had gone happily to Shanghai to study languages. But the military situation was critical, and Li was pulled into the service. He never expected that to last 40 years.

At first Li still exchanged letters with his home, but after the iron curtain fell, communication was cut off. Nine years later Li met and married the daughter of a doctor of Chinese medicine.

Here's how fate plays with people. After Li had two daughters, and had an enviably happy home, the effect of Taiwan returned. About five years ago, Li met someone from his hometown by chance, and through this person contacted his family in Hukou.

At first he used a pseudonym and wrote in Japanese with the contact mailing the letters from Japan. The return letter said, "Your mother and father are still alive, taken care of single-handedly by your wife. Your wife has never remarried, and gave birth to a son...." He was simply amazed.

At the end of last year, the government began allowing Taiwanese soldiers stranded on the mainland to return home. Then the problems started.

First came the difficulty of "two wives." "This problem was really complicated, and my heart was aching," says Li, wrinkling his brow. "If I come here, I will miss there. Go there, and I will be concerned about here." Because he was afraid his Taiwan wife would be jealous, he was afraid to bring even pictures of his daughters. To avoid hurting his mainland wife, he merely said he was coming to Taiwan to "visit family." When asked if he thought of his mainland family, he silently turned his head away--revealing a truly profound tragedy.

Li's unspoken pain is in missing his mainland wife. After all, his marriage lasted only six months in Taiwan. On the other side there has been 30 years of companionship. "If not for her care, I could never have safely returned." Now 64, Li is still tall and healthy.

His spoken pain is in adapting to his old hometown.

Li says that he had three purposes on this trip. The first was to thank his wife for taking care of his family for all this time. The second was to see his mother and pay respects to his father, who had since died, to be as filial as possible. The third was to see old friends and family. After these had been taken care of, Li Kwang-ming felt lost.

Li was determined to look for a job. The problem was, as soon as he stepped out the door, he was surrounded by sky-scrapers and bustling people, oppressed by the prosperity of capitalism. Even though he had done business in Shanghai, and was considered "upper middle class" in the mainland, in Taiwan "I felt like I was lower than everyone else by a level," says Li.

Li's mindset had his family concerned. Now, besides an early morning jog in the park with his wife, the rest of his time is spent in the house. He even deliberately avoids neighbors who come to call. Li says he just wants peace and quiet, but in fact he is afraid. He is afraid people will pay too much attention to him, especially since the police have come several times to ask him about his work and life in the mainland.

Though his wife tells him that Taiwan is his home, and there's no need to fear, he is still not used to things. Lin Ah-yueh describes that when her husband buys things he calculates over and over, first using the standard in renminbi.

Currently Li's biggest complaint is that he has no economic resources. He has heard that the government is currently working on the problem of recognizing the military status of the old Taiwanese soldiers. He has heard that some returned Taiwanese soldiers have acquired veterans' identification cards. This is very encouraging for Li. "Then I could receive a fixed pension every month, and return something to my family," says Li, not forgetting his responsibilities as head of the household.

After getting his veterans' ID, what will Li do? "I haven't decided on a long stay or short stay," he says. His mainland wife and daughters do not want to come to Taiwan, and he himself is not accustomed to life here.

When Li returned, friends and family all spoke up for Lin Ah-yueh, saying she waited forty years to "have a companion in old age." But Lin is not certain whether this "companion in old age" will be long at her side.

[Picture Caption]

Li Kwang-ming still has the letter from the first time he made contact with his Taiwan family, and documentary evidence of when he left Taiwan.

Unable to handle the memories of the flush of early married life and those years of praying for her husband's early return, Lin Ah-yueh sighs that her life has really been a trial.

Unable to handle the memories of the flush of early married life and those years of praying for her husband's early return, Lin Ah-yueh sighs that her life has really been a trial.