My urine trickles down the urethra then drips into the glass cup. The mouse under my bed has been frightened by our visitors’ footsteps, and has hidden itself in the box my mother bought for my ashes.
‘He never fills more than seven glasses a day, I’m afraid,’ my mother says to the last woman to arrive. ‘Come again tomorrow. I’ll keep his morning urine in the fridge for you.’
I remember the dream I had last night. A doctor brought me a syringe and said, ‘Give yourself the injection. If you do it correctly, you’ll wake up from your coma.’ But when I took the syringe it turned into a bicycle chain which dragged me off into a glass corridor. I tried to scream for help, but no sound came out of my mouth. Outside the corridor lay a scorching desert. I flung myself against the glass walls like a trapped bird then slowly suffocated to death.
Trapped like a frog inside a glass jar, you wish your scream could light up the night sky.
The Square was bustling again. Residents stood chatting with their friends, enjoying the cool of the evening. Children ran around playing hide-and-seek. Street hawkers pushed their carts along shouting ‘Ice lollies for sale!’ Further away, a column of marchers arrived waving red banners.
Mou Sen walked up. ‘So I hear you went out for supper in Qianmen,’ he said, fixing his intense gaze on me.
‘It’s Tian Yi’s birthday. I invited Wang Fei along too. You weren’t around.’
‘Bai Ling was there as well, wasn’t she? You know, Nuwa has guessed that Wang Fei’s having an affair with her. He seems serious this time. I don’t think it will last, though. Bai Ling has such a fierce temper. She’s a Shandong girl, after all. I might as well tell you. Nuwa and I are in love. It was she who chased after me, I promise you. Don’t tell anyone. At least, don’t tell Yanyan.’ His nose twitched awkwardly.
‘I see. “The lazy toad dares taste the meat of the swan”, as the saying goes!’ I looked down at Mou Sen and felt peeved that someone so much shorter than me could seduce a beautiful girl like Nuwa.
‘You’re the bloody toad, Dai Wei!’ he said, punching me in the chest.
‘All right, your secret’s safe. Hey, how are things progressing with your Democracy University?’ I didn’t want to discuss Nuwa with him. In my mind’s eye, I saw her tight denim skirt swaying from side to side, her bottom jutting out a little each time she shifted her weight from one leg to the other.
He told me that forty people had already signed up to join his Democracy University. I warned him I couldn’t help organise his preliminary meeting because my cousin Kenneth and his wife had arrived in Beijing, and I had to show them around.
‘The spirit of the Square is dying,’ Mou Sen said. ‘It’s up to me to bring it back to life!’
‘I really don’t understand you. You resigned from the Headquarters because you thought we should withdraw from the Square. Now you’re urging everyone to stay here and join your university. Have you gone mad?’
‘I just have a gut feeling that if we don’t do something dramatic now, our movement will collapse,’ he said, gazing into the distance.
‘I think the best plan is to withdraw from the Square on 30 May, as Han Dan is suggesting, then continue our campaign back on the campuses.’
As I was about to walk away, he grabbed my shirt, stared at me unblinkingly and said, ‘Dai Wei, if either of us is arrested, we must be strong and refuse to surrender.’
‘Don’t be so melodramatic,’ I said, pushing him away.
Sister Gao spotted us and came over. ‘The people on the streets were very cold towards us on the march today,’ she said. ‘They didn’t cheer or clap, or offer us any food.’ Then she turned to me and said, ‘Dai Wei, there’s a press conference taking place on the Monument. Zhuzi’s looking for you.’
A refreshing drizzle fell from the night sky. Beijing residents were beginning to drift back to their homes. I wanted to find Tian Yi and ask her to go back to the flat with me, but I had no choice but to turn round and head for the Monument.
Han Dan was reading out a ten-point declaration. Yang Tao was standing next to him, holding up the megaphone. The journalists had stacked their tape recorders and microphones on the school desk in front of them.
‘We propose that the students withdraw from the Square on 30 May, bringing this stage of the movement to a close…’ Han Dan said. As soon as he’d delivered the declaration, he left before anyone had time to protest.
The Democracy Forum discussion that Old Fu began chairing in the broadcast station soon degenerated into an argument. Students and Beijing residents stormed into the tent, grabbed the microphone from the table and shouted their opposition to the proposed withdrawal. Old Fu ran away, fearing for his safety, leaving Chen Di and me to get rid of the intruders.
I searched for Tian Yi, and at last spotted her sitting by the trees near the Museum of Chinese History.
‘This is the first day of my twentieth year,’ she said, not looking up at me.
‘My cousin Kenneth and his wife arrived in Beijing today for their honeymoon. Will you help me show them the sights tomorrow? Your English is much better than mine. My mother wants us to go and see her tonight to discuss where we’ll take them.’ I caught a whiff of the scraps of discarded food rotting on the ground beneath the trees.
‘Seems like a strange place to spend one’s honeymoon. Don’t they know there’s a revolution going on here?’
‘Apparently they booked the holiday months ago and couldn’t change it. And anyway, neither of them has been to China before, so they’re very excited.’
‘Hey, did you see the National Opera Company’s orchestra?’ she said, as we headed for Changan Avenue.
‘No, where?’
‘They came here about an hour ago to show their support. They performed the final movement of Beethoven’s Eroica. Just there by the national flag.’
‘Was my mother with them?’
‘No, none of the choir came. Just the conductor and about thirty musicians.’
‘They played the Eroica, you said? I wonder what my father would make of that if he were alive…’
You want to search for the way out, but you can’t move. Your wet flesh envelops you like a dank pelt.
‘Looking back at the Beijing fashion trends of 1996, we’ve seen a big drift towards relaxed, casual clothing, with baggy shirts and short waistcoats…’ My mother switches off the radio then pulls out the syringe from my arm and lowers my hand onto the bed. Blood rushes to my fingertips. She places my right hand on my thigh and pushes me onto my side. She forgot to move my left hand out of the way, so my hip is now digging into it.
‘If only you could die in your sleep…’ she wheezes, wedging her knee behind my back. With all her might, she pulls me into a sitting position. When she’s confident I’m stable, she slowly rotates my head from side to side. It’s drooping down, so when it turns, the veins on my face become compressed and bulge out. But at least my blood is flowing smoothly through my back now.
Someone knocks on the door. My mother rests my head on the pillow. ‘Hello!’ she says, opening the front door. ‘You’re the first to arrive.’
‘Are you alone then, Auntie?’
‘What do you mean? There’s always the two of us in this flat.’
‘Of course. How thoughtless of me. I’m sorry. I came here straight from work. I thought I could help you out before the others arrive. Have one of these fruits I’ve brought you. They only grow in the south.’ It’s Mimi. She visited a few months ago. Perhaps Tian Yi told her to come today. She and my mother sit on the sofa.
A fly that has been trapped in this room for months buzzes around my head, then settles on my hair and lays eggs on my scalp.