I mustered the student marshals and led them through the rain as we escorted the three hundred Beijing University hunger strikers to Beijing Normal, where we were to meet the other university groups before setting off together for the Square. Our paper banners and posters were so thin that most of them soon disintegrated in the rain.
I spotted a photographic shop on the corner and ran inside to buy two rolls of film for Tian Yi. On rejoining the march, I received a message from Shu Tong: ‘The government has just agreed to hold a dialogue. It will take place tomorrow at the United Front Department. The Dialogue Delegation has been invited to a preliminary meeting this afternoon to discuss procedures. They’re sending a car to collect us. Bring the hunger strikers back to the campus immediately!’
It was a bad moment. The hunger strikers had taken their oaths and were halfway to the Square. I knew that Han Dan and Bai Ling would never listen to Shu Tong, let alone me, so I stuffed the note into my pocket and kept quiet. After a while, I decided to go over to Han Dan and tell him about it. He stopped walking and said, ‘Really? If only the message had reached us before we set off. But I’m afraid it’s too late to turn back now.’
‘You mean you too had doubts about holding this strike?’ I asked.
‘We chose to go ahead as a last resort. It seemed the only way of forcing the government to listen to us.’
‘You and Ke Xi both belong to the Dialogue Delegation. You should go to the meeting at the United Front Department to represent the hunger strikers.’
‘Let’s talk about it when we get to the Square.’
‘I must go back to the campus and update Shu Tong.’
Only Liu Gang was in the dorm when I arrived. He’d changed into a suit in preparation for the meeting. I told him of Han Dan’s reaction and he said, ‘I wish he’d come back and explain exactly what the hunger strikers’ demands are. The government is terrified. If the hunger strikers are still in the Square when Gorbachev arrives the day after tomorrow, the Party leadership will be deeply humiliated.’
Just as we were walking out, Hai Feng ran up and told Liu Gang that a female journalist from abroad wanted to interview him. Liu Gang said there wasn’t time. A car was already waiting to take the Dialogue Delegation to the United Front Department.
‘Well, she can interview me, then,’ Hai Feng said curtly.
To my surprise, Liu Gang turned round and barked, ‘Members of the Organising Committee aren’t allowed to have private meetings with journalists. It’s against the rules!’
‘I have the right to express my views!’ Hai Feng retorted.
‘Do you know why Wei Jingsheng, the Democracy Wall activist, was arrested in 1979?’ Liu Gang said, stopping in his tracks. ‘The government accused him of having private meetings with foreigners and betraying the country. Every foreign journalist in Beijing is trailed by secret police. It’s dangerous to meet them in private.’ Liu Gang was five years older than Hai Feng, and tended to speak condescendingly to him.
‘I’ll be taking some quilts to the Square soon,’ I interjected. ‘When I get there, I’ll discuss all this with Han Dan. Perhaps when Gorbachev arrives, we can retreat into the underpasses below the Square.’
‘That’s a good idea!’ Liu Gang exclaimed. ‘If Han Dan agrees to that, send someone to the United Front Department to let us know. It will give us room to manoeuvre during our discussions.’ Then he ran off to find Shu Tong and Sister Gao.
‘What a wonderful idea,’ Hai Feng said sarcastically as we walked down the stairs together. ‘On the eve of Gorbachev’s visit, the Square will be packed with students and red banners, and the next morning it will be deserted. That will really make the government shake in their boots.’
Let your aspirations slip into silence. Sit in forgetfulness, like the philosopher Zhuangzi. Leave your body behind and vanish like mist into the air.
Dong Rong knows his way to our flat. When he arrives, my mother is in the middle of giving a singing lesson.
‘Sit down, I won’t be much longer,’ my mother says breathlessly. ‘You and Dai Wei were at university together, weren’t you?’
‘We were in the same dorm. We’ve met before, Auntie, you’ve forgotten. I’ve come up from Shenzhen on a business trip. I don’t think that old informer Granny Pang saw me this time.’
My mother puts him in my room then shuts the door. Now that there’s no draught blowing, the smell of the dirty rags my mother has hidden around the room grows more intense.
‘Dai Wei, it’s Dong Rong,’ he says, sitting down beside me. ‘It’s August 1992. I forget which day. I’ve come to see how you are. All our old dorm mates have gone their separate ways. Everyone’s lost touch. In Shenzhen I bumped into Ge You — you know, your friend from Southern University. He was arrested after the crackdown and sent to jail in Guangdong for a year. We both work in the Shekou Development Zone now…’
My pulse starts racing. I’d forgotten that Ge You was in the Square that night.
Trying to fill the silence, Dong Rong continues, ‘You’ve changed so much. You look like an Egyptian mummy. Can you hear what I’m saying?’
Of course I can, you fool. When people talk to me, they speak as though they’re leaving a message on an answerphone. After a couple of sentences, their voices become stilted as they slowly realise they’re talking to themselves.
My mother is playing a tape of a performance she gave of the drinking song from La Traviata. Her student is singing along with it. ‘Let us drink from the goblets of joy, adorned with beauty…’
‘I hope you can hear me… Compared to some of our friends, I got off quite lightly. As you know, I’ve always tried to stay out of politics, but I had to come and see you, and bring you good wishes from all your old classmates who are now living in Shenzhen. Hey, did you hear about those other two friends of yours from Southern University, Wu Bin and Sun Chunlin? Well, after the crackdown, Wu Bin came down to Shenzhen and smuggled himself across to Hong Kong with Sun Chunlin. Sun Chunlin’s uncle lost his job as head of Guangzhou’s Department of Communication over it.’
Why would Sun Chunlin give up his successful business career to help out Wu Bin? They were never that close. I want to know more, but unfortunately let out a fart which drives Dong Rong out to the covered balcony. The single bed there occupies all the space, so there’s nowhere for him to stand.
‘No one apart from your mother would have the patience to look after you. She should hire a maid. I’ve left a thousand yuan on the table to help her with the cost. I’m leaving now. It stinks in here.’
I know you’re very pernickety. You always insisted on wearing a clean shirt every day. But, damn it, can’t you just stay a bit longer and talk to me?
If he is going, I hope he shuts the door behind him, because I can’t stand it when my mother hits the high C at the end of the drinking song. The note pierces through my skin like a sharp knife.
Dong Rong didn’t participate in the student movement much during the early days. The first time I really noticed him take an active role was when the hunger strikers entered the Square, and I spotted him standing among their ranks. If he hadn’t come to see me today, he would have probably slipped from my memory entirely.
You imagine yourself standing by the window, your stomach pressed against the sill. You grasp the handle, push it down then swing the window open.
‘The Dialogue Delegation is betraying the hunger strikers!’ Wang Fei was shouting through his megaphone from the steps of the Monument to the People’s Heroes. Dong Rong was beside him, holding up the Science Department’s banner. ‘They’ve dared to propose that we withdraw from the Square. Go and protest outside the United Front Department!’ Wang Fei had been appointed the News Herald’s Tiananmen Square liaison officer by Shu Tong, but he considered this position too lowly, and was planning to set up a Tiananmen Square propaganda office instead.