Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

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Dai Wei lies in his bedroom, a prisoner in his body, after he was shot in the head at the Tiananmen Square protest ten years earlier and left in a coma. As his mother tends to him, and his friends bring news of their lives in an almost unrecognisable China, Dai Wei escapes into his memories, weaving together the events that took him from his harsh childhood in the last years of the Cultural Revolution to his time as a microbiology student at Beijing University.
As the minute-by-minute chronicling of the lead-up to his shooting becomes ever more intense, the reader is caught in a gripping, emotional journey where the boundaries between life and death are increasingly blurred.

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A few seconds after A-Mei went to sleep, she’d shudder a little, like the frogs we experimented on in the laboratory. She’d lie in my arms, the lamplight falling softly on her face. She often told me how much she liked falling asleep with her head on my chest. So whenever she did this, I felt very happy, and tried to make sure I didn’t fart.

During the holiday, we attended many lectures hosted by the university. She’d sit on the back of my bicycle, and we’d ride off to the campus through a string of lanes and alleys. The month passed very quickly.

Our friends began to refer to us as ‘the married couple’.

In the last week of the holiday, A-Mei announced that she was going to return to Hong Kong to accompany her mother on a five-day trip to Thailand.

The night before she left, we clung onto each other’s clammy bodies that smelt of the same sweat. The damp strands of hair above her ears fluttered in the breeze blowing from the electric fan. She let her arms rest limply at her sides and said very slowly, ‘We’ve become so close to each other. It’s wonderful. I’m yours, all yours…’ Then she rolled over and laid her head on my chest. Before I’d had a chance to light a cigarette, I fell into a deep sleep.

As you drift unconsciously towards death, you reach out for the fractured sentiments that float by, trying to find one that is in some way connected to you.

I thought we were in love… The chapter of The Book of Mountains and Seas entitled ‘Paths through the Southern Mountains’ talks of a Mount Brazen that overlooks the Western Sea. That’s where I planned to start my journey. On its slopes grows a plant that banishes hunger. I wanted to eat some of its leaves, then set off to find the Black Tree of the Lost Valley, whose blossoms are so radiant that if you wear one in your hair, you will never lose your way. The River Li springs from the foot of the mountain and flows westward towards the sea…

I wonder why The Book of Mountains and Seas interrupted my memories of A-Mei.

I remember telling her once that, after I graduated, I wanted to set off on a long journey, following the routes described in the book. I told her that I’d start in the Southern Mountains, climb Mount Brazen, then make my way to the mountains of the west, north and east.

‘Do you think you’ll have enough years in your life to travel to all those places?’ she said. ‘The Southern Mountains alone stretch for nearly two thousand kilometres. Anyway, the book isn’t a proper scientific text. It’s full of myths and fables. You told me yourself that many of the place names are impossible to locate. Some of them probably never existed in the first place. And what about all the strange animals? Do you really believe there is a species of bird that has only one wing?’ She raised her eyebrows and smiled at me.

I pointed to the map of China I’d hung on the wall and said, ‘The more people claim something doesn’t exist, the more I want to go and find it. The book was written two thousand years ago, so it’s natural that the place names will have changed. I haven’t identified many of the towns and rivers, but look, I’ve been able to mark out most of the mountain ranges.’

She gazed blankly at the wall for a moment then said, ‘I’ve worked it out. If you want to travel all the routes mentioned in the book, it will take you at least fifty years. I’ll be seventy by the time you return — if I’m not dead by then.’

‘It was just a thought I had,’ I mumbled. ‘I know very well that it would take more than a lifetime to complete the journey…’

‘So why did you bother hanging up that map then?’ she said impatiently.

Adrenalin is the lubricant of life. It makes your heart race, your face blush, your breath quicken, and helps you recover from heartache.

Ten days passed, and A-Mei still hadn’t returned from Hong Kong. She’d told me she was only going to Thailand for five days.

I didn’t attend the compulsory lecture on the first Tuesday of term, in case she phoned while I was out. I stayed in the room and rifled through her suitcases and drawers, searching for something that might explain her prolonged absence. I discovered that she owned four white skirts and several different watches. The only thing that roused my suspicion was that she’d taken the two diaries she usually kept on the desk.

I stepped out onto the balcony and peered down at the corner shop on the other side of the road. It frustrated me that there was always someone using the public phone that was kept on the shop’s windowsill.

On Wednesday evening, just before supper, someone shouted up from downstairs: ‘Room 413 on the fourth floor! A girl from Hong Kong on the shop phone for you!’

Without bothering to put my sandals on, I charged downstairs.

I was in a bad mood. I picked up the receiver and said, ‘What’s going on? Have you lost all track of time? Do you know what day it is?’

A-Mei remained silent for a long time then finally said, ‘I’ve told my mother about you. I showed her photographs of us together.’

‘So what? I told my mother about us ages ago… You’ve been away two weeks now. Isn’t it time you came back?’

‘I don’t think I’m coming back this term.’

‘What do you mean? Why haven’t you phoned me before?’

‘I’ve tried to reach you every day. The shop phone is always engaged.’

‘Well, we can talk about all this once you’re back here. The line isn’t very good.’ I never liked to talk much on long-distance calls, because I was afraid of the expense. But A-Mei was calling me this time, so I only had to pay the shopkeeper a small fee.

‘My mother doesn’t approve, Dai Wei. She said —’

‘The woman’s never met me!’ I said dismissively. ‘What right does she have to tell you what to do?’

‘Calm down, will you? I’m phoning you now because my parents have gone out. Listen: my mother wants me to break up with you. She doesn’t want me to return to Guangzhou.’ I’d never heard her speak so loudly before.

‘So you do whatever your mother says, do you?’

‘I’m trying to tell you what the situation is. Why won’t you let me explain things?’ She’d probably forgotten that I was standing outside the corner shop. There was a long queue of people waiting to use the phone, and they were all staring at my mouth and listening to every word that came out of it.

‘I don’t have time for all this waffle. Just get to the point.’ I glanced at the strangers in the queue behind me, and drew a certain comfort from the attention they were paying me. If there hadn’t been so many of them waiting there, I probably wouldn’t have spoken so abruptly. I had at least a basic understanding of politeness.

‘All right then,’ she said. ‘If we’re going to break up, we might as well get it over and done with. There’s no point in dragging things out.’ When A-Mei became angry, she’d slip back into Cantonese, but I could usually get the gist of what she was saying.

‘OK, if you want to split up, let’s split up!’ I was angry that she let her mother dictate her life in that way.

‘Well, OK then…’ she stuttered, then put the phone down.

A sense of peace came over me. It felt as though I’d rid myself of a troublesome problem. I left the corner shop, hurried back to the room, put some books into my satchel and went off to the library. A new edition of the Science and Modernity Journal was delivered to the library at the beginning of each month. It got passed around so much that if you didn’t get your hands on it early enough, there’d be nothing left of it for you to read.

Even now, I’m not certain who exactly broke up with whom. Did I hang up on her? No, she definitely put down the phone first. I’m sure of it.

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