Some voices leave a lasting memory. For me, one such voice belonged to a female radio announcer from Beijing whom I occasionally listened to when I was in my late teens and early 20s.

The airwaves from China were very unstable as they traveled a long distance across the sea. The voice could be heard clearly one moment and fade away the next. The poor reception made the distance between Japan and China seem greater than it actually was.

More than 10 years later, during the mid-1980s, by sheer chance, I happened to meet the woman whose voice I remembered so well in Beijing, where I was working as a correspondent.

She was Chen Zhen. For more than a half century from 1949 when modern China was founded, Chen was involved with China Radio International's Japanese-language broadcasts, known in Japan as ``Radio Beijing.''

The Cultural Revolution labeled Chinese-language lessons for Japanese as ``treacherous'' and banned broadcasts. It was not until 1973, a year after Japan normalized diplomatic relations with China, that they were resumed thanks to political consideration by Chou En-lai.

Chen was chosen as the first teacher. Before they were banned, the lessons were taught by her father, Chen Wen Bin.

Japanese audiences who only knew Chen Zhen's lively, beautiful voice on the radio came to know her gracious and gentle personality through Chinese-language lesson programs on NHK television. The Japanese broadcaster had invited her to appear on the show as a teacher in 1991. She was loved and remembered by many Japanese fans.

On the night of Jan. 4, however, I learned of her death. She was diagnosed with cancer four years ago and succumbed to it after a hard-fought battle. She was 72.

She could speak perfect Japanese because she grew up in Tokyo until she was in her early teens. Her father was also a linguist who taught at a Japanese university. These are the sketchy bits and pieces of her life that I knew when she was active.

But what I knew turned out to be a trivial part of her stormy life that remained hidden behind her captivating smile. It was only after her death that I learned of her trials and tribulations from the book ``Chen Zhen: Senso-to Heiwa-no Tabiji'' (Chen Zhen: Journey of war and peace) published by Iwanami Shoten.

The biography was written by professor Masaaki Noda of Kwansei Gakuin University from dictation. Noda, who was friends with Chen for more than 20 years, described her as ``a woman who seriously lived through three ages under three circumstances.''

As a Chinese girl growing up in Tokyo, Chen fought discrimination with a resolute attitude. When Japan lost World War II, she went to her father's homeland, Taiwan. But there was no peace there as the family fought the danger of political terrorism by the Kuomintang day after day.

Chen narrowly escaped to Tianjin in China on a boat with her mother. Soon, they were reunited with her father who had arrived ahead of them to witness the emergence of new China. Chen joined the radio station when she was 17. But she developed tuberculosis amid a food shortage and was exposed to waves of political movements.

But even in such turbulent times of modern Chinese history, Chen always cared for others with kindness. Referring to the Cultural Revolution, in which she lost a colleague, Chen said, ``I cannot say that I risked my life to fight it,'' and continued to hold herself ethically responsible for allowing a political crime to rage. Touched by her sincere attitude, Noda decided to interview her to write the book.

Another thing that continued to trouble Chen to the last days of her life was the future of Japan-China relations.

``From her experience of having lived as a `Japanese' in prewar Japan, she viewed today's Japan with an unexpectedly harsh eye,'' Noda said.

Since she was hospitalized for the last time in mid-November, her condition gradually worsened. Even though the manuscript had yet to go through final proofreading, Noda asked the editor to quickly put together a sample copy with only the covers and rushed it to the hospital. It carried the photograph of a smiling Chen in braids. The photo, taken in a studio to commemorate her marriage when she was 28, was her favorite.

Knowing that her death was near, Chen showed consideration to others to the end, saying in her will, ``Since winter in Beijing is very cold, please don't trouble others to come to my funeral but keep it a private affair.'' But in addition to her older sister, who lives in Beijing, her younger sister, who was adopted and separated from the rest of the family, also came to the funeral from Taiwan.

A copy of the book that was just completed was put in the coffin before it was cremated. Chen, who miraculously recovered consciousness on her deathbed, looked at the book and said it was wonderful before going back to sleep, according to her husband and doctor, Ma Zhong Tai.

The author is an Asahi Shimbun senior staff writer.(IHT/Asahi: February 25,2005)