‘If we were to fail now, our parents would side with the government and demand that we be punished,’ Bai Ling said. ‘I joined the Party on my eighteenth birthday. My father said to me, “From this day on, you belong to the Party. You must devote your life to the Party.” How could I go home now? Orphans must learn to forge their own paths in life.’ Bai Ling seemed very downcast.
‘Yes, we must remain firm and do our best to defend the Square,’ Wang Fei said. As soon as he began swigging back the beer, his face became as pink as Bai Ling’s.
Tian Yi whisked some flies away with her hand then raised her eyebrows approvingly as a plate of fried pig’s liver I’d just ordered was placed on the table. ‘Eat up!’ she said. ‘Look, they’ve put some peanuts in there as well.’
‘Local residents are distributing food and water to the soldiers who are surrounding the city,’ Bai Ling said. She bit into a piece of liver. ‘Mmm, tastes much better than the liver they serve us in the university canteen…’ Then she removed her sunglasses and said forlornly, ‘I don’t want to die.’ The rims of her eyes were red.
‘It’s still not clear who will win this battle.’ Wang Fei stubbed out his cigarette and picked up a piece of fried egg.
‘Deep down, I’d like to leave the Square, because that would be the safest option,’ Bai Ling said. ‘But I know that if I leave, I will spend the rest of my life living in fear.’ She twisted a paper napkin nervously.
‘I want to launch a campaign to press for regional autonomy,’ Wang Fei said, placing his hands flat on the table.
‘I only joined this movement to make sure Dai Wei didn’t do anything rash,’ said Tian Yi. ‘But as soon as I got involved, I knew that no matter what happened, I’d have to stay with it to the end.’
‘This is beginning to sound like one of your psychology tutorials,’ Wang Fei complained.
‘Pu Wenhua and Hai Feng have been passing information to the military to safeguard their futures,’ Bai Ling said. ‘The government won’t need to communicate with us any longer. Those two guys have effectively destroyed our movement. What we need now is bloodshed. Only when rivers of blood flow through Tiananmen Square will the eyes of the Chinese people finally be opened.’ She knitted her eyebrows together and burst into tears.
‘Not again! You promised you wouldn’t cry again,’ Wang Fei whispered, patting Bai Ling’s back. Her small delicate ears trembled as her head juddered.
We put down our chopsticks. There were few customers in the restaurant, but many flies. Whenever they settled on the table or a plate of food, Tian Yi would whisk them away with her sandalwood fan. The screeches and roars of the trolleybuses, cars and bicycles outside merged into one large clamour.
‘I’m on the government’s blacklist,’ Bai Ling muttered. ‘I want to run away. I don’t care if people think I’m selfish. I want to live. Oh, I’m so confused…’ She dissolved into tears again, her jet-black hair dangling over the fried tomatoes in her bowl.
Wang Fei shifted his stool closer to her and propped her up with his shoulder. Tian Yi pressed another paper napkin into Bai Ling’s hand.
This young woman who was so resolute and determined in public was now sobbing like a child. Since the launch of the hunger strike, she’d been pushed to the front line, and to stay there for so long required nerves of steel. Before she started crying, I’d thought of telling her that it was unfortunate she’d approved Mou Sen’s resignation, but seeing her distress, I decided not to.
‘Hey, it’s Tian Yi’s birthday,’ said Wang Fei. ‘Let’s not talk about the Square. Tian Yi, I wish you all the happiness and success in the world!’ He pulled his hand away from Bai Ling’s back and raised his glass of beer.
‘I’ve developed a bad case of war fatigue!’ Bai Ling rubbed the tears from her eyes and lifted her glass. ‘Tell us what your birthday wish is,’ she said, not daring to lift her gaze from Tian Yi’s hands.
‘My wish is to have freedom of thought and to see an end to this political dictatorship,’ Tian Yi said. ‘I don’t want to have to live in fear.’
‘That’s easy. All you need to do is go abroad with Dai Wei.’ Wang Fei stuffed a paper napkin under his armpit to mop up the sweat then tossed it onto the ground.
‘I’m a Chinese citizen,’ she replied. ‘I don’t want to devote my youth to a foreign country.’ She turned to Wang Fei and Bai Ling. ‘Come on, you two. I’d like to toast to your happiness as well. May all your wishes come true!’
Tian Yi put down her sandalwood fan and poured some more Coke into Bai Ling’s glass. I was struck by how self-assured and resolute she’d become over the last few weeks. My mother had sent me a message saying my cousin Kenneth and his wife had arrived in Beijing. I wanted to ask Tian Yi to accompany us on a trip to the Great Wall the next day, but was afraid she’d accuse me of deserting my duties.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ Bai Ling said, smiling. ‘In fact, my only wish is to have an ordinary life. I’d like to have children and watch them grow up. Come on, cheers!’ She glanced at Wang Fei and clinked her glass against his. He put his arm around her and downed the beer in one gulp.
The restaurant manager walked over with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and said, ‘There’s a rumour going round that those new canvas tents you’ve put up in the Square are part of an empty-fort strategy, a ploy to scare off the government, giving you time to make a quick retreat.’
‘We won’t retreat,’ Wang Fei said. ‘We’ll stay in the Square until the bitter end. Look, the commander-in-chief is sitting right here.’ He patted Bai Ling’s shoulder proudly.
‘Oh, it’s Bai Ling! I’ve seen your photograph in the newspapers!’ The manager was taken aback.
As Bai Ling gave a reluctant smile, the insect bites on her forehead turned redder. ‘Well, you can call the police now, if you want, and tell them to come and arrest us,’ she said.
‘No, no, I’d never do that. I wouldn’t want any plain-clothes cops coming round here again. A couple of days ago, two foreigners came in for a meal. As soon as they left, a secret-police officer walked in and asked me what they’d said. There are only four tables in this restaurant, so I can hear everything. But the foreigners were speaking English. How was I to know what they were saying? So I’m not cut out to be a government spy, you see. Come on, have a cigarette!’
You want to stop the glucose solution entering your vein and slowly die of starvation.
My ears are like air vents. I can’t choose which noises enter them. What is more frustrating is that my urine has now become a focus of media interest. For the last five days, reporters have been streaming into our flat to interview my mother and take photographs of me.
Yesterday, a man with a squawking voice said, ‘Look how translucent his skin is! It’s a sign that his years of fasting have transported him to a higher plane.’
‘You can tell from his facial features that he’s destined to live a long life,’ his colleague said.
‘He looks just like that qigong master, Kong Hai, who has the most miraculous urine of all the Taoist masters.’
‘Master Kong Hai hasn’t eaten or slept for thirteen years,’ someone else concurred.
‘Yes, Kong Hai’s urine has been declared a national treasure. Only the Premier’s wife is allowed to drink it.’
How could these strange men imagine that my urine has magical properties? What sort of tonic could a corpse like mine produce?
My mother is playing Mahjong with four other women. When they shuffle the plastic pieces it sounds as though they’re scattering pebbles onto the table.
‘We’ve uncovered another two fatalities,’ Fan Jing says quietly. ‘That brings the number of dead to 155.’