Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

‘If only you could die happily in your sleep like that old woman,’ my mother says, patting my shoulder. ‘Have you made up your mind to die yet? Why don’t I sign you up for euthanasia? We could make a trip to Shanghai. What do you say? I tell you, I can’t go on like this any longer.’

I remember a dream I had yesterday afternoon. My hair grew long and thick and became a lush forest. I stood on a treetop. The sky was blue. A field of sunflowers lay spread out below me. I began to float like a cloud. I looked down and tried to grab hold of someone standing on the ground, but I was so high up, my arms couldn’t reach them.

While you wait to decompose, the iron bedstead creeps into your body, transforming it into a rigid tree.

When the sun began to set, the heat in the Square became less stultifying and a few lights twinkled in the pale grey sky. The Beijing residents were less afraid than they’d been at the start of martial law, and the shops and stalls of Qianmen market south of the Square were bustling with customers again. Tian Yi, Wang Fei, Bai Ling and I walked into a small privately-run restaurant there. I’d invited them to supper.

I looked at the menu. At the top were pork dumplings priced at two yuan a jin, and below that was a list of stir-fried dishes. I ordered spicy tofu and stir-fried tomato and eggs, which I knew Tian Yi liked, and two bottles of beer. I’d spent five yuan on Tian Yi’s present, and only had twenty yuan left in my wallet, so I didn’t dare order anything too expensive.

‘And let’s have three jin of dumplings as well, a plate of boiled peanuts and some cold bean vermicelli,’ I said to the manager before he walked away.

‘Order some Coca-Cola as well,’ Tian Yi said. ‘We’ll need it on a hot day like this.’

‘I didn’t know you were inviting us for a vegetarian meal!’ Wang Fei said, then called out to the manager, ‘Hey, and bring us some braised pigs’ trotters too!’

‘Why are you ordering so much food?’ Bai Ling said. ‘This isn’t the Last Supper, you know.’ She was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses.

‘Come on, let me tell them,’ I said, glancing at Tian Yi. ‘It’s her birthday today!’ I was sitting next to Tian Yi on one side of the table, and Wang Fei and Bai Ling were sitting opposite us.

‘Oh, how embarrassing!’ Bai Ling said. ‘I haven’t got a present for you. I’ll make it up when we return to the campus. So what did you give her, Dai Wei? Show me. I remember how you wheedled your way into our party last year, just so that you could catch a glimpse of Tian Yi.’ When Bai Ling smiled, which didn’t happen very often, you could see her two pointed canines.

I’d bought Tian Yi a fold-up sandalwood fan in the craft shop next door to the restaurant. I’d remembered A-Mei had bought a similar fan in the Friendship Store in Guangzhou. She’d told me they were worth a lot of money abroad. I pulled the present out of my bag and placed it on the table. Tian Yi tore open the wrapping paper, sniffed the fan and said, ‘Well, I suppose it’s the thought that counts.’

I noticed a glazed expression on Bai Ling’s face. It was the look girls adopt when they feel embarrassed and want to avoid attention. Trying to alleviate her discomfort, I said jokingly, ‘I wonder what Wang Fei will give you for your birthday. Go on, ask him!’ At this, Wang Fei leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Bai Ling smiled coyly. They clasped hands under the table. Although streaked with dirt, Bai Ling’s calves looked smooth and rosy.

Tian Yi ruffled her fingers through my hair and said, ‘I hope that on my next birthday we can all go for a picnic in the Fragrant Hills.’

‘Yes, as long as we’re not in prison,’ Bai Ling said, curling a finger behind her sunglasses and rubbing the corner of her eye. ‘A student from Shanghai told me that his classmates are very disillusioned with our movement. Six hundred students from his university travelled up to Beijing, and only ten of them are still here.’

‘Many of the provincial students have left now,’ I said. ‘The ones who’ve remained have lost their enthusiasm, and are worried about what will happen next. I spend most of my time trying to break up fights. I really think it’s time we withdrew.’

‘Retreat would be tantamount to capitulation,’ Wang Fei said. He puffed his cigarette, then picked up a peanut with his chopsticks and put it into his mouth.

‘I agree. We must bide our time and wait until the government resorts to using force. We must let the people see the true face of this government.’ Bai Ling’s fingers were almost as slender as the chopsticks she was holding. She glanced at Wang Fei and added, ‘The hunger strike declaration I read out made a big impact on the students. It’s my responsibility to carry on.’ She put a small bundle of vermicelli into her mouth and slowly chewed on it.

‘The Square is our only home now,’ said Wang Fei. ‘There’s nowhere left for us to go. If we went back to our parents, they’d hand us over to the police.’

‘Yes, Mao destroyed the traditional family system so that we’d all have to depend on the Party,’ Tian Yi said. ‘We’re a generation of orphans. Our parents gave us no emotional support. As soon as we were born, they handed us over to the Party and let it control our lives.’ She paused for a moment to swallow some food. The straps of her denim dress were constantly slipping off her shoulders. I kept having to push them up again for her. Having drunk some beer and eaten a few mouthfuls of hot food, I began to break out in a sweat. Tian Yi’s neck was covered with perspiration as well. I picked up a dumpling and put it on her plate.

‘If we were to fail now, our parents would side with the government and demand that we be punished,’ Bai Ling said. ‘I joined the Party on my eighteenth birthday. My father said to me, “From this day on, you belong to the Party. You must devote your life to the Party.” How could I go home now? Orphans must learn to forge their own paths in life.’ Bai Ling seemed very downcast.

‘Yes, we must remain firm and do our best to defend the Square,’ Wang Fei said. As soon as he began swigging back the beer, his face became as pink as Bai Ling’s.

Tian Yi whisked some flies away with her hand then raised her eyebrows approvingly as a plate of fried pig’s liver I’d just ordered was placed on the table. ‘Eat up!’ she said. ‘Look, they’ve put some peanuts in there as well.’

‘Local residents are distributing food and water to the soldiers who are surrounding the city,’ Bai Ling said. She bit into a piece of liver. ‘Mmm, tastes much better than the liver they serve us in the university canteen…’ Then she removed her sunglasses and said forlornly, ‘I don’t want to die.’ The rims of her eyes were red.

‘It’s still not clear who will win this battle.’ Wang Fei stubbed out his cigarette and picked up a piece of fried egg.

‘Deep down, I’d like to leave the Square, because that would be the safest option,’ Bai Ling said. ‘But I know that if I leave, I will spend the rest of my life living in fear.’ She twisted a paper napkin nervously.

‘I want to launch a campaign to press for regional autonomy,’ Wang Fei said, placing his hands flat on the table.

‘I only joined this movement to make sure Dai Wei didn’t do anything rash,’ said Tian Yi. ‘But as soon as I got involved, I knew that no matter what happened, I’d have to stay with it to the end.’

‘This is beginning to sound like one of your psychology tutorials,’ Wang Fei complained.

‘Pu Wenhua and Hai Feng have been passing information to the military to safeguard their futures,’ Bai Ling said. ‘The government won’t need to communicate with us any longer. Those two guys have effectively destroyed our movement. What we need now is bloodshed. Only when rivers of blood flow through Tiananmen Square will the eyes of the Chinese people finally be opened.’ She knitted her eyebrows together and burst into tears.