Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

‘The hunger strikers from the Central Academy of Drama are refusing liquids,’ Shao Jian said. ‘I caught a glimpse of them through a gap in the crowd. All I could see were eight pairs of bare feet, lying completely still.’

‘We’re not cowards,’ Lin Lu said. ‘If the majority of students supported the strike, we would too. But the truth is, they don’t.’ Outside the bus, people were shouting and jeering.

‘Students have flooded here from all over the country,’ Wu Bin said. ‘But they didn’t realise that once they step into the Square, there’s no way out.’

‘We must take control of the situation and come to a decision, or people will die,’ Old Fu said.

‘I hereby announce that from now on, I will stop drinking fluids,’ Pu Wenhua said. ‘And if the government continues to ignore us, I’ll set fire to myself.’ He was very weak, and looked as though he was about to faint.

‘Do what you want,’ Han Dan said, wiping his glasses. ‘But you’ll be acting alone.’

‘As I’ve said before, I think we should end the hunger strike but stay in the Square and submit a new petition,’ Lin Lu said.

‘The Beijing Students’ Federation has called for an end to the fast,’ said Sister Gao to Bai Ling. ‘The Hunger Strike Headquarters must follow the will of the majority. If we keep fighting among ourselves like this, the students will lose trust in us.’

‘Stop wasting time,’ Mou Sen said. He too looked as though he was about to pass out. ‘We can talk about our future tactics at the next meeting, but the question now is: do we carry on with the hunger strike or not? Let’s have a show of hands.’

‘Yes, let’s have a vote,’ said Lin Lu. ‘Dai Wei, how many people are in the bus?’

‘Ninety-seven.’

A vote was taken. Fifty-one students voted to end the hunger strike.

Students outside began bashing on the door again. Mao Da, Chen Di and I opened it and stepped out. A huge crowd had surrounded the bus. I spotted journalists and Beijing residents in the throng. A few people lifted their cameras and took flash photographs of us.

‘Ke Xi wants to enter the bus, Dai Wei,’ Big Chan said, squeezing over to me.

‘He can’t!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t let him through!’ I was afraid Ke Xi wanted to stir things up again.

‘He’s already pushed his way through the third cordon, and he’s heading this way,’ Chen Di said, watching Ke Xi approach.

I grabbed Chen Di’s megaphone, switched it on and shouted, ‘Please don’t take flash photographs. The hunger strikers are very weak, and the flashes will disturb them. Please be considerate!’

A foreign journalist who was being pushed about in the scrum shouted in atonal Mandarin, ‘Don’t hit me! I’m not a dog! That’s not friendly!’ which made everyone laugh.

Ke Xi shoved his way up to us and said, ‘I’ve heard there’s an important meeting going on inside. Why won’t you let me in?’ He was accompanied by a doctor, two nurses and four students who were acting as his bodyguards.

‘It’s the rules,’ I said, blocking his way. ‘No one is allowed in once the meeting has started.’

‘Ke Xi, you’re here at last!’ Zhuzi shouted from inside the bus, having overheard our conversation. ‘Open the door quickly and let him in.’

Ke Xi moved feebly towards the bus. The two nurses fussed over him, shouting, ‘Don’t crush him! He could faint at any moment.’ Although he’d eaten some noodles earlier in the United Front Department, he was pretending to still be on hunger strike.

Chen Di and I pushed Ke Xi into the bus then closed the door behind us.

‘You’re not a member of the standing committee, Ke Xi,’ Bai Ling said sternly. ‘You can only vote as an individual.’

‘Cast your vote immediately,’ Sister Gao said.

‘What are we voting on? What’s been happening?’ Ke Xi was so squashed he could hardly speak. I was standing right behind him, almost choking from the stench of sweat and hospital disinfectant emanating from his body.

‘We’ve decided to end the hunger strike,’ Han Dan said. ‘Do you agree or disagree with our decision?’

‘Agree,’ Ke Xi said, raising his hand in the air.

‘Fine, then the meeting is now over,’ Lin Lu shouted. ‘In two hours’ time, get the hunger strikers to gather outside the broadcast station, and we’ll announce to the media and all the students in the Square that the hunger strike is officially over.’

‘Is everyone clear now?’ Shao Jian shouted through his cupped hands. ‘We will end the hunger strike and replace it with a sit-in.’

‘I’m going to storm Zhongnanhai!’ Pu Wenhua said, banging the walls of the bus, tears streaming down his child-like face. ‘It was my idea to launch this hunger strike! You have no right to end it!’

‘The hunger strikers should decide themselves whether to stop the strike or not!’ Tang Guoxian said. ‘Students who haven’t joined the strike have no right to vote!’ But most of the students had squeezed out of the bus by then. A few students from provincial universities were getting their photographs taken with Bai Ling, Ke Xi and Han Dan, then asking them to sign their T-shirts and hats. It looked as if they were planning to head home.

‘Who will announce the end of the hunger strike?’ Liu Gang asked Old Fu, pulling him into a corner.

‘Bai Ling, of course. She’s the Headquarters’ commander-in-chief.’

‘All right, Bai Ling will announce the decision, then the Beijing Students’ Federation will hold a press conference at 8 p.m.,’ Liu Gang said solemnly.

‘Zheng He has already written a Hunger Strike Termination Statement,’ Mou Sen said, handing the text to Han Dan.

‘Give it to Bai Ling,’ Han Dan said, pushing it away.

‘Let me read it first,’ Old Fu said, snatching it from Mou Sen.

Lin Lu handed a scrap of paper to Mou Sen and said, ‘This is the number of the State Council’s general office. Call them up on the phone outside the Museum of Chinese History and tell them the hunger strike is officially over. We must get this message to them before they impose martial law. Hurry up!’

Lin Lu turned to the few students who were still inside the bus and said, ‘Remember, this decision is top secret. Bai Ling must announce the news to the hunger strikers face to face. Before then, no one is to say a word. We don’t want a riot to break out.’

Mou Sen opened the door, stared at the vast crowd outside and whispered, ‘Will you help me squeeze my way through, Dai Wei?’

Tang Guoxian and Wu Bin stormed up to us and said, ‘You Beijing students can stir things up as much as you like then run away scot-free. But when the rest of us return to our universities in the provinces, we’ll all be thrown into jail.’

‘Let’s just see what happens,’ I said. ‘Anyway, no one should be heading home yet. This movement is going forward now, not retreating.’ Then, wiping the sweat from my face, I took Mou Sen’s hand and began pulling him through the crowd.

In the moment before death, there will be no time to climb the folds of your brain and gaze at the thoughts flowing by.

A long queue of people were waiting to use the telephone. I walked straight to the student at the front and told him we needed to make an urgent call. As Mou Sen grabbed the receiver, I glanced back and shouted, ‘Please keep quiet, everyone. We’re phoning the State Council.’ The queue of people behind immediately quietened down and gathered in a close circle around us.

Mou Sen nervously dialled the numbers, put the receiver to his ear and said, ‘Hello? We’re phoning to inform you we’ve ended the hunger strike. I will now read out our statement. I will speak slowly, so you can write it down if you want.’