Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

Having lost the battle, General Fu Yu drowned himself in a river. If he appears to you inside a house, the emperor will die. If you see him wandering through the wastes, a calamity will befall the entire empire.

It was just after three in the morning. The government had announced that the army would clear the Square at dawn. I felt as though we were trapped inside a wooden cabin, waiting for the wolves to turn up.

The leaders of the Hunger Strike Headquarters were having a secret meeting inside the broadcast minibus to discuss whether they should leave the Square before the army arrived.

‘When the army gets here, they’ll arrest us lot first,’ said Bai Ling, her face pale with fear. ‘I’ve heard there are regiments waiting inside the Great Hall of the People over there and in the pedestrian underpasses. Speak up now, everyone, and say what you think we should do.’

‘Yes, what if one of us gets killed?’ said Cheng Bing. She’d been arguing with Tang Guoxian when I’d gone to fetch her. He and some friends had been making primitive petrol bombs with beer bottles and kerosene.

Mou Sen lit another cigarette. Mimi yelled a slogan out of the window then turned to us and said, ‘Don’t smoke inside the minibus! The fumes will ruin these bottles of mineral water.’

‘There are only about 10,000 students in the Square now,’ said Old Fu. ‘The army will be able to march straight in and round up all the so-called “troublemakers” — which includes me, and everyone else here in this minibus.’

‘But a million people marched through Beijing yesterday,’ said Shao Jian. ‘In Washington, six thousand Overseas Chinese marched in solidarity, and in Hong Kong, members of the Basic Law drafting committee threatened to resign unless the government listens to our demands. With support like that behind us, we have no reason to be afraid.’

Mimi and Chen Di were sitting on the front seats, broadcasting news bulletins to the students, most of whom were now asleep: ‘Many government leaders such as Wan Li and the Long March veteran, Xu Xiangqian, support our movement. Xu Xiangqian even said to the army, “I will kill any soldier who dares shoot a member of the public…”’

‘Look at this bulletin, Old Fu,’ Mimi said, turning round. ‘It says the Voice of America reported that the President of the United States has declared unequivocal support for our movement. Shall we read it out?’

‘No, I think you’ve read enough,’ Old Fu said. ‘It’s nearly half past three… We should pack up and get out of here.’

‘The Beijing Students’ Federation can take over the management of the Square,’ Bai Ling suggested.

‘We should have a meeting with them first to let them know what we’re doing,’ Mou Sen said.

‘The army won’t come now,’ Pu Wenhua said in his high-pitched voice. ‘It’s far too late.’ He had a pair of what looked like toy binoculars hanging around his neck. He was sitting squashed up next to Wang Fei.

‘All right then, I propose we leave the Square straight away,’ said Bai Ling. ‘Commander-in-chief Han Dan, and acting commander-in-chief Lin Lu can stay and hold the fort. The rest of us should go.’ Bai Ling was in low spirits. The previous night she’d confessed to Tian Yi that she felt ready to quit.

‘We could set up a new base in the Fragrant Hills, and ask messengers to keep us up-to-date with developments,’ Wu Bin said. ‘If the government can’t locate our command centre, they won’t bother sending the army in.’

‘There are still some Federation members up on the Monument. They’ve got a liaison office up there.’ Lin Lu’s mouth didn’t seem to move when he talked.

‘I don’t think we can skulk off without telling anyone,’ Shao Jian said. ‘The students would never forgive us.’

‘Are you going to stay here and wait until the police fling us in jail?’ Old Fu said. He was shaken by a rumour he’d heard that the army was going to butcher its way into the city. An hour before, he’d said he wanted to go and hide in his parents’ flat.

‘The hunger strike is over now,’ Bai Ling said hoarsely. ‘If we want to keep the flame of the movement alive, we must leave the Square and go underground.’

‘The students haven’t left yet, so neither should we,’ Shao Jian protested.

‘I still have 200,000 yuan of donations in here,’ Old Fu said, patting his leather briefcase. ‘I’ve given the rest to the Beijing University Organising Committee. The Federation’s cash is controlled by five treasurers. I’ve had nothing to do with it. I’ll share out what’s left here between us and we can use it as living expenses.’

‘You have no authority to do that,’ Cheng Bing said. ‘That money belongs to the movement.’

‘I heard the Federation sent its cash off to the Politics and Law University,’ Pu Wenhua said.

‘I’ve never handed out any money before, apart for a few small expenditures,’ Old Fu said, frowning. I could tell he hated having to deal with money. The only reason he suggested sharing it out was that he didn’t want to be caught red-handed with a bag full of cash if the army came to arrest him.

‘I’m not a member of the core leadership,’ I said. ‘But in my opinion, all the students should leave the Square now, not just us.’

‘Everyone in this minibus is a member of the leadership,’ Old Fu said anxiously. ‘When the army arrives, they’ll have photographs of us all. They’ll know exactly who to look for.’

‘Let’s hurry up and share out the cash,’ Bai Ling said, desperate to get going. ‘You can write out receipts, Old Fu. Call it a survival grant, or an escape grant. We must leave now before it’s too late.’ She closed her eyes. She looked as though she was about to pass out.

‘You go if you want to, but I’m staying here,’ Cheng Bing said. ‘I’d feel guilty sneaking away like this. So don’t give me any of that money.’

‘Bai Ling has made the right decision,’ Wang Fei said. ‘The army have been ordered to drive the students from the Square and arrest the core leadership. If we escape now, we’ll be able to keep our political struggle alive.’ He put his arm around Bai Ling to stop her falling over.

‘It’s too much!’ Mou Sen said. ‘We can’t creep away without telling anyone. We must make an announcement and explain our actions.’

‘We’re going underground and taking the movement out into the city,’ Wu Bin said. ‘Deng Xiaoping has mobilised a third of China’s regular army forces. More than 300,000 soldiers have encircled Beijing. That’s a larger military force than was sent to attack Vietnam.’ Ever since Wu Bin had been appointed head of the intelligence office, he’d become Bai Ling’s one-man think-tank.

‘Do you hear that?’ Old Fu said. ‘They’ll crush us if we stay here. I’ll distribute the money now. We can call it an emergency grant. Who’s got a torch?’ He pulled the cash out of his briefcase and glanced at his watch, but it was probably too dark for him to see what it said.

‘Look at all that money!’ Shao Jian exclaimed, staring at the wads of cash. Mimi and Chen Di switched off the loudspeakers and came over to take a look.

‘Let’s give everyone a thousand yuan,’ Old Fu said, starting to count the money. ‘That should be enough.’

‘If we’re going underground, we must have a plan,’ Mou Sen grumbled. ‘We can’t leave without agreeing on a strategy.’

‘All we need to do is keep the flame burning,’ Wang Fei said. ‘If we escape arrest today, we can set to work on launching a national campaign for democracy.’

‘So, tell us, Wang Fei,’ I said. ‘Are you staying or leaving?’

‘I think I’ll go into hiding for a while,’ Wang Fei said, glancing at Bai Ling.