‘The weather’s turning cold. I made these padded trousers for myself, but since my family won’t let me out of the flat, they’re no use to me now, so I thought you might like them. If you get a chance to go to the park to practise some routines, they might come in handy. Has Officer Liu come up today?’
‘No. What questions has he been asking you?’
‘All the usual ones: who have I been in contact with, who do I know who took part in the 25 April Zhongnanhai siege and the 20 July protests, am I hiding any Falun Gong banners… Before he left, he mentioned that lots of people from out of town have been demonstrating in Tiananmen Square these past few days, and that I shouldn’t leave my flat or accommodate any practitioners who’ve travelled up from the provinces…’ Granny Pang is still a little out of breath. ‘Stay on your guard tonight. I’ve heard there’s going to be another spate of arrests.’
‘It’s worse than the Cultural Revolution. If more than five Falun Gong practitioners of a province travel to Beijing to complain to the central authorities, the provincial governor is sacked. So the provincial authorities send police to the train stations to stop anyone suspected of being a Falun Gong member from boarding the trains. If the practitioners resist, the police beat them to death. My son Dai Ru phoned me the other day and told me many such stories he’d read in the British press… Huh, there’s nothing we can do. We just have to be careful.’
‘I’ve been careful all my life. How is it that, just by practising a few meditation exercises, I’ve got myself into so much trouble with the government?’
‘My life has been dogged by one political campaign after another, so I’m used to it. Old Yao’s in prison now. He’ll probably stay there until the day he dies…’ My mother starts sobbing quietly then breaks into floods of tears. ‘We really have reached the “End Time”!’ she cries. ‘There’s no Pure Land on this earth. We must strive for spiritual perfection so that we can leave this world behind and fly into the sky…’ She goes to the kitchen to wash her face, then returns to the sofa and changes the subject. ‘Your son’s bar in the Sanlitun embassy area must be doing very well. Foreigners like to spend a lot of money.’
‘No, that street is crammed with bars now, so there’s a lot of competition,’ Granny Pang says. ‘He’s poured all 30,000 yuan of his redundancy money into his bar, but it still isn’t making a profit… They’re pulling down this building next month. Have you found a cheap place to move into yet?’
‘I haven’t bothered to look for one. Dai Wei and I won’t be alive for much longer. What difference does it make where we live?’
Two hundred li further north stands Mount Guyao, on which the Lord of Heaven’s daughter died. Her name was Female Corpse. After she was buried, she became a plant that has dense foliage and yellow flowers. If a woman eats the fruit of the plant, her face will become more beautiful.
‘Let’s hold the opening ceremony straight away. We can’t wait for the stage to arrive. The reporters and guests are all here.’ It was evening now, but Mou Sen’s face was covered in sweat. His long hair looked freshly washed.
‘The factory you commissioned to make the stage is probably too scared to deliver it,’ I said. ‘Let’s just pull some tables over here and make a temporary stage. The martial law troops have already reached the western end of Changan Avenue. Where have you been, by the way? Ge You has been looking for you. He’s got another donation to give you.’
‘Nuwa and I went to a hotel to take a shower,’ he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively, wanting us all to know that he’d just made love to his new bride.
‘You bastard. So, how was it?’ I could smell a scent of soap wafting from his goatee.
‘I tell you, I could die a happy man now! I’m starving! Is there anything to eat?’
I finished painting the words DEMOCRACY UNIVERSITY’S OPENING CEREMONY on a long white banner, then went off with Tang Guoxian to lug some tables over from the Monument. We wanted to set up the stage at the foot of the Goddess of Democracy, but some provincial students had put up a tent there.
I went inside and asked them to budge. They were drinking and smoking.
‘Move our tent for you? Of course it’s not all right with us!’ they said, then pushed me out as though I was a trespasser.
‘I gave you this tent!’ I shouted. ‘I’m head of security. We want to hold the Democracy University’s opening ceremony here tonight. Can’t you please just shift your tent over to the right a bit?’
‘You think that just because you’re some high official you can push the rest of us around! Go and read up a bit on democracy before you come in here again. You don’t offer us anything to eat or drink. You just expect us to move our tent out of the goodness of our hearts. Well, it’s not going to happen!’ They pushed me out again and zipped up their nylon door.
‘This is too much!’ Mou Sen shouted, having joined me outside their tent. ‘If you want something to eat, go to the Hong Kong students’ provisions stall. They’ve got bread and cartons of soft drink. All I can give you are pamphlets.’
‘You can say what you like, Mr Security Chief. I’m the tent chief, and I tell you, we’re not moving!’
‘You’ll move pretty fast when the martial law troops turn up!’ Tang Guoxian said, squatting down outside the tent’s door. ‘And besides, the Headquarters has asked everyone to leave their tents now and stay on the Monument.’
‘We won’t run away when the army turns up!’ one of the guys inside shouted. ‘We’re here now, and we’re not moving.’
‘Don’t waste your time arguing with them,’ Nuwa said to Mou Sen, rushing over in a fluster. ‘Let’s put the stage up on the east side of the Goddess instead. The reporters keep asking me whether the ceremony’s going ahead or not. I can’t make them wait any longer.’
Xiao Li was setting up the amplifiers and diesel generator. I asked him how his head was, and he said the wound had stopped bleeding and he felt much better. Then he picked up a radio cassette player and said, ‘Look what we’ve just been given! It’s got a double cassette deck, a digital display and an automatic tuner. Even the Voice of America sounds crystal clear on it.’
I’d seen cassette players like that three years before in Guangzhou. Xiao Li had never had a chance to travel. The only places he knew were his home village and Beijing.
‘Here’s the red sash and the scissors for the opening ceremony,’ Tian Yi said, handing them to Nuwa. She was still busy trying to find some last-minute guests to attend the event.
I fetched the banner I’d just made and tied one end to the scaffolding at the base of the Goddess of Democracy and the other to a lamp post.
The recorded announcement came over the government speakers once more: ‘A counter-revolutionary riot has broken out in Beijing tonight. Everyone in the Square must leave immediately. If you fail to leave, the martial law troops will have to remove you by force!’
‘Where’s this counter-revolutionary riot they’re talking about?’ Tian Yi asked, looking up at me.
‘The government has probably given guns to the students and citizens, then taken photographs of them, so they can claim there’s been an armed rebellion,’ I said.
‘Stop trying to frighten me,’ she said.
‘It’s nine o’clock already, and Professor Yan Jia still hasn’t turned up,’ Nuwa said. ‘What are we going to do?’ Her cheeks were red and there was a smudge of black ink at the edge of her mouth.
‘Go and talk to the other guests,’ Tian Yi replied. ‘See if any of them will stand in for him. They only need to say a few words.’
‘Wasn’t Yan Jia the guy who told us that Deng Xiaoping had resigned?’ Xiao Li said. ‘Why has he been made honorary president?’