This must be a dream, I thought. Senior Consul Zhang Zongshu from the Chinese consulate was in the audience that evening. He was very proud: I had brought glory to the Chinese people, he said, and he would do anything in his power to make sure my stay was extended. His report to the Chinese government would be most positive. In the end the Chinese government gave me permission to stay for an extra five months and the dancers' union agreed to allow my promotion.

From then on in Houston I was a sort of celebrity. It was very strange. I was stopped by people in restaurants, shops, streets and even parking lots. But despite this instant stardom I knew I would have to work hard-I knew I couldn't lose sight of my aim. My injuries gradually got better but nothing else changed. Zhang and I continued to stay with Ben and I continued to meet Elizabeth in secret. I became increasingly frustrated at not being able to see Elizabeth more but I also felt guilty. I felt like I was betraying Ben and China, both at once. I wished I hadn't allowed myself to fall in love with her. Living with both desire and guilt was becoming suffocating but I had no choice. Anyone I told would be placed in a very dangerous situation with the Chinese government. I couldn't bear to put my family and friends in such a position. My only option was to stay quiet.

Soon it was April 1981 and I had less than a month to go before returning to China. The Houston Ballet's first major tour to New York was coming up and both Zhang and I would perform.

I was the second cast for the lonely, arrogant prince in John Cranko's The Lady and the Fool. I had never even heard of this ballet before but one week before the performance in New York, out of the blue, Ben asked me to do a full rehearsal with the first-cast dancers. I was stunned. I thought it must be a mistake.

The prince's first entrance was in the middle of a high-society ball. I had to enter at the far-back centre stage and come down some steps with people on both sides of the stage standing back in silence and admiration. But walking down those steps was like walking on hot coals for me. Everything felt unnatural and awkward.

"Li, you're too sweet and too nice," Ben said and stopped the pianist. "Go back and do it again. I want more arrogance."

I was shaking with embarrassment. I was twenty and I still had no idea what an arrogant prince would feel like. But Ben made me repeat it over and over again, and by the time he went on with the rest of the rehearsal my practice clothes were soaked with sweat.

But it paid off. My inhibitions went. I eventually enjoyed portraying this arrogant prince, a prince who would have been considered evil in communist China. And here I was, portraying him with pride. I had made a fundamental shift in my dancing. The two weeks in New York allowed me to really taste that city. I fell in love with it. Everywhere I went I made new friends. New York was full of artists. So many wonderful classes to choose from. It seemed that ballet teachers and dancers were everywhere, even choreographers. One day when I was taking a class at the School of American Ballet, I bumped into George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins, two of the most highly regarded American choreographers in the world. The famous Danish teacher Stanley Williams taught class that day and many dancers from the New York City Ballet, including one of their stars Peter Martins, were in that class. For me, a peasant boy from Qingdao, it was amazing.

Another day, I remember peering into the American Ballet Theater's studio and seeing Baryshnikov doing a barre. I couldn't believe my eyes! This was the man I had admired for so long! But how little he was! How could such great dancing coming from such a small body? Then the following day, in the same studio, there was Natalia Makarova sitting on the floor doing her stretches. And a day later I found myself standing on the same barre as Gelsey Kirkland, the very same Sugarplum Fairy who danced brilliantly with Baryshnikov in that Nutcracker video I'd watched in China. I would never forget her quality. Every movement was performed to perfection, every detail demonstrated with precision. I was meeting people and experiencing things that I had only dreamt about in China. It was magical and New York was the focus.

During the two weeks I was in New York, Elizabeth and I communicated through just one secret phone call. I missed her the whole time. My feelings about leaving her and going back to China became unbearable. Duty towards my motherland, responsibility for my family, the desire for Western freedom-I thought I had made up my mind to go back to China but now I was wavering. What does China have to offer you? The Red Detachment of Women? The dance world is yours to explore and conquer here. You have a beautiful American girl who loves you dearly. What more do you want? Don't go back. But then I thought of my parents, my brothers, my friends back in China. What about Teacher Xiao and Teacher Zhang? What about Ben and his relationship with China? You will destroy them all if you stay. And they have done so much for you.

It was in this confused, guilt-ridden state of mind that I returned to Houston, with only three days left before returning to China. Zhang and I spent the morning shopping for presents for friends and family back in China and that afternoon I met Elizabeth two blocks away from Ben's apartment.

"I missed you!" she said, and immediately sensed my unease.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing wrong," I replied, but my heart was screaming. "Let's go to Chinatown and see a movie."

First we went to a gift shop where I bought Preston Frazier a decorative Chinese plate as a farewell present. Then I bought Elizabeth a Chinese jade ring. "For our friendship," I said.

She looked at me tenderly. "Thank you," she replied.

In the dark of the movie theatre a Taiwanese film with English subtitles had already started. Forget about the movie, go to her apartment, a voice inside me said. No, you can't do that! Be strong or you will wallow in a greater mess, another voice replied.

Half an hour after the movie finished we were lying on the bed in Elizabeth 's one-bedroom rented apartment, once more immersed in our passionate love. This was too much. You love her. Stay.

I called Lori. It was late afternoon. "Hi, Big Ballerina," I said. "I and Elizabeth, come talk with you?" I asked.

"Li, the Big Ballerino! Sure, when do you want to come?"

"Now okay?" I asked.

"Now? Okay," she replied.

Lori's apartment was half a block away from Elizabeth 's and we were there in no time. "I want marry Elizabeth!" I said to Lori and Delworth as soon as we walked in.

Lori gave Elizabeth and me a passionate hug. She was nearly in tears, she was so happy. Then she became more serious. "Have you told Ben yet?" she asked.

"No. I don't know how or when. He wouldn't like. He will kill me and Elizabeth when he find out, because he love China too much."

"Who cares about that," Delworth barged in. "Let's have a wedding party!"

"In two days I go back China. No time for wedding," I said.

"Well, you could get married in a courthouse. It will only take a couple of hours. Delworth and I can be your witnesses," Lori suggested.

So at ten the next morning Elizabeth and I made our vows as husband and wife in the Harris County Courthouse, with Lori and Delworth by our sides. Elizabeth quickly kissed me, and Lori and Delworth clapped.

After we signed the marriage documents the four of us walked out of the courthouse into a beautiful April day. I'm married. I've married Elizabeth, I thought. And then immediately, what have I done to Ben?

"When are you going to tell Ben?" Elizabeth asked.

"Don't know. Not today. Big party tonight! Maybe tomorrow," I replied. Ben and the company had planned a farewell party for Zhang and I for our second-last night in America.