Ma Jian - Beijing Coma

She was lying on her bed reading a book. When she looked up at me, I saw a sudden warmth in her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Bai Ling is having a small party,’ I said casually. ‘You should have come over and wished her happy birthday.’

‘I was waiting for you to turn up,’ she said calmly. ‘Dai Wei, don’t get involved in this round of protests. You don’t want to get arrested again, do you? It’s not worth it. I want to live a peaceful life. Promise me that you’ll remain a neutral onlooker this time.’ She was lying under her quilt, staring into my eyes.

I sat down by her side. ‘All right, I won’t get too involved,’ I said, then leaned down and kissed her. She didn’t turn away. She kept her eyes fixed on me and switched her lamp off.

My heart pounded. I lifted her quilt, and soon our bodies were pressed together. She let the book she was holding fall to the floor and whispered, ‘What if you disappeared one day, and I couldn’t love you any more? What would I do?’ She leaned over me and closed her bed curtain.

‘Nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise. And when I finish my PhD, I’ll take you to America — the safest country in the world — and buy you your own private garden.’

‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ she said, then whispered, ‘You must promise never to tell anyone about what happened in those woods.’ Then with her left hand, or perhaps her right hand, she slid a condom sachet onto my stomach.

We trembled silently on her single bed, inhaling each other’s breath. Her body became hotter and hotter, and seemed to slowly sink into her mattress. Each time I pushed into her, the bunk would groan, so I tried not to move too much. I could hear another couple making love on a bunk near the window. They’d put on a tape of American music to try and cover the noise. ‘ When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you. I’ll take your part. When darkness comes, and pain is all around, like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down… ’

After my penis softened, the condom slipped onto her leg.

‘The tape on my English for Beginners cassette has scrunched up,’ Tian Yi said breathlessly, loud enough for the other couple to hear. ‘Will you help fix it for me?’

‘Yes, I’ll flatten it with a jar of hot water,’ I answered, feeling a cold draught blow through my limp body.

Molecules wriggle through your cerebrospinal fluid like rain running down the branches of a tree.

‘He’s waking up!’ my mother cries. ‘Look, he’s trying to open his eyes… I must disinfect everything — his clothes, quilt and sheets — everything…’

A woman standing nearby says, ‘You should use Brightness washing powder. None of the other brands kill bacteria.’

‘It’s a pity I covered over the balcony,’ my mother says. ‘If I hadn’t, I could have given these quilts a good airing.’

‘Have any of his friends from university come to visit him?’

‘I don’t like them coming round. It upsets me to see other people of his age. If they knock on the door, I don’t let them in. See, I’ve installed an eyehole in the front door. It only cost two yuan. You can see who’s standing outside, but they can’t see you.’

‘The police won’t be happy about that!’ The woman sounds like the National Opera Company’s bookkeeper.

‘I don’t care. Everyone in this building has got one now…’

. . I hear Mou Sen shouting, ‘This is too much! What’s the matter with you Beijing University students? Have you gone to sleep?’

Students had been pouring into Wang Fei and Shu Tong’s dorm all day, saying that it was about time Beijing University students took some action.

Ke Xi had just come back from laying wreaths in the Square. ‘A new student movement has begun!’ he yelled. ‘Thousands of wreaths have been placed in Tiananmen Square. Central Academy of Art students have hung a giant portrait of General Secretary Hu Yaobang on the Monument to the People’s Heroes.’

‘A thousand of my fellow students at Beijing Normal University have gone to the Square to mourn Hu Yaobang’s death,’ said Mou Sen. ‘Even the leaders of the official student associations went along.’

Shu Tong shook his head solemnly. ‘We must work out a strategy,’ he said. ‘We can’t deploy all our troops at once. This time round, we should let Han Dan’s Democracy Salon lead the protest. The Pantheon Society should play a peripheral role. That way, we won’t get in so much trouble if there’s a clampdown.’

‘You’re such a prevaricator,’ said Liu Gang. ‘Can’t you be decisive for once?’ I’d never heard such urgency in his voice before. He’d just been awarded a part-time post at the Research Institute of Beijing Academy of Social Sciences.

‘I think it’s time to take action,’ Old Fu concurred. ‘Tomorrow morning, we should go to the high-tech firms in Zhongguancun District and ask for donations. When we’ve collected enough cash, we can make up the banners for the demonstration.’

‘If you’re going to demonstrate, don’t discuss it in this dorm,’ Big Chan said, flicking through a magazine. ‘I don’t want to get entangled in this.’

‘Yes, go and do your scheming in the recreation hall,’ Little Chan said, sitting on his clean bed.

‘You limp dumplings! If you’re afraid to die, get out of here!’ Wang Fei despised those two.

‘This isn’t your home!’ Little Chan shouted. ‘You think you can turn this dorm into some August First Uprising Museum? Well, you can’t!’

‘Dai Wei, someone downstairs has just shouted that there’s a phone call for you,’ said Shao Jian, returning from a trip to the toilets. He was a round-faced, mild-mannered physics student, and the only guy in Wang Fei’s dorm who didn’t smoke. He didn’t have a girlfriend, but he’d often stand in front of the mirror in the evening, clipping his moustache, as though he was getting ready for a date.

I was afraid that it was my mother calling, but it was my brother.

‘Mum’s just phoned,’ he said. ‘She told me not to take part in any demonstration. She knows you’ve put up some posters, and that you’re thinking of going on a march.’ The line crackled and his voice broke up, but that was usual with long-distance calls.

‘Tian Yi must have phoned her. She’s afraid I’ll get into trouble again. You’d better not join the protests… No, I’m not going to the Square. I only stood in the Square for two minutes in 1987, but it’ll be on my record for ever…’ I didn’t want to tell my brother too much, because I knew it would get back to my mother. I wanted him to study hard and get a job in Beijing after he graduated, so he could look after my mother and I could go and study abroad.

A few moments later the line went dead. I walked back up to the first floor.

‘Stop arguing! The minority should obey the majority!’ Cao Ming shouted. Although he’d joined the Pantheon Society, he seldom expressed any opinion.

‘We must call for the overthrow of the one-party dictatorship,’ Ke Xi said, standing in the doorway.

‘And the end of economic profiteering by corrupt government officials,’ said Chen Di, who was standing next to him.

‘Instead of “overthrow”, let’s just say we want to “put an end” to one-party dictatorship,’ Old Fu advised. ‘We should draft a petition, with a list of specific requests. For instance, we can ask the government to give a fair appraisal of Hu Yaobang’s political achievements.’

‘And to repudiate the campaigns they launched against spiritual pollution and bourgeois liberalism.’ Liu Gang and Old Fu shared similar views.

Mou Sen fiddled with his long fringe. ‘Will you give me a haircut, Dai Wei?’ he asked. ‘It’s getting too long again.’