33

  FOR DAYS, I was agitated. I was half-expecting Wentao to call me, but he didn’t. His silence eventually made me feel relieved. If he had persisted in reaching out to me, that might have complicated things, and I wouldn’t have been able to act without hurting him. He had a keen mind and understood it would be better for both of us if he kept me out of his life. By nature he was a goodhearted man.

  I felt lazy in the spring, but my life was simple and orderly. I stayed indoors most of the time, reading and writing notes on index cards. I preferred the traditional way of research and kept a box of cards that were filed by topics related to Tank Man. Gradually my dissertation began to take shape in my mind. In addition to an intimate narration of the unfolding of the student movement, I was going to analyze the abnormal fear that was in the top echelons of the CCP. I wanted to explain how this fear made the hardliners misjudge the situation and motivated them to bring in the field armies and ultimately unleash their forces on peaceful civilians. Besides discussing the possible origins of Tank Man, I would also describe the dissemination of the iconic image in the West and throughout the Chinese diaspora—how it was consumed and evolved in artistic presentations. More essential, in the last part of my dissertation I would meditate on my personal investment in this academic project since I was a Tiananmen baby.

  That was just a rough outline I had in mind. As I continued with my research, I could see that my project had been growing more substantial by the month. That meant I should be able to complete the dissertation quickly. But for now, I had to finish reading the books, about fifty titles total, for the qualifying exam. Only after that could I begin writing.

  Recently I had realized I had neglected some of the deeper implications of my project, which I must unconsciously have pushed aside in order to proceed with full steam: if my topic of Tank Man remained taboo to Chinese authorities, it would be difficult for me to find a teaching position in China after I earned my PhD. I thought of discussing this problem with Bailey, but was unsure of him. He might try to use my vulnerability to pressure me to cave in to his advances. I called Loana one night and talked with her about my concern over the consequences of my dissertation topic.

  “I can see that it might become a serious problem,” she said, her nose blocked due to the flu she had just caught. “But we can’t always adapt ourselves to the world. It would be better to stick to our own position and make the world adapt to us.”

  “That’s right.” I was so impressed that my shadowy room seemed to brighten for a few seconds. “Any more suggestions?” I asked.

  “You ought to follow your heart,” she said. “You should first consider how well your project will meet the academic requirements here. That is the first step.”

  “So forget about job opportunities in China? My mother would be mad at me if she knew this. I promised to go back and take care of her.”

  “With a PhD and a good dissertation in your hands, you should be able to find a teaching position in the States. As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t rush back right away. You can teach here for a few years and then find a more suitable job in China or Hong Kong. That way you won’t have to please your superiors in any department, because they might decide to hire you as an associate professor, as if you already had tenure.”

  “That makes a lot of sense.”

  “You must be careful about going back. There’s no academic freedom in China, so in the long run your scholarship might suffer there. If you go back, you should make sure you have a way to come back to America for research and professional exchanges.”

  “I’ll keep in mind what you said, Loana.”

  We turned to other topics. By chance Rachel came up in our conversation, and I told Loana that she was an editorial assistant to a news editor at Bloomberg now. Loana remembered her fondly and said Rachel shouldn’t be wasting her mind like that. I wondered how I could pass her opinion on to my friend, but didn’t know if I should. Maybe Rachel liked her new work now, since it allowed her to do some journalism.

  On Tuesday afternoon, I went to see Bailey again. I reported my recent readings to him and also talked about the schedule for my qualifying exam. I would need the whole summer to get fully prepared, so I suggested taking it in early September. He gave it some thought, then said, “That will work. I’ll tell the department to schedule for it.”

  “In a couple of weeks, I am heading home. My mother misses me and wants me back as soon as I can.”

  “So we should meet at least twice before you leave, shouldn’t we?”

  “That’s true.”

  “I want to be updated on your progress. Don’t think of me as a slave driver. It’s my responsibility to make sure my students complete their work on time.”

  “I appreciate your efforts, Professor Bailey.”

  “You don’t have to keep calling me professor. Please just call me John.”

  “Okay, see you next Tuesday, John.”

  I stood to take my leave while he smiled without opening his lips. There had been a rave review of his new book, The Politburo of the Chinese Communist Party, in The Times last Sunday, so that was probably why he appeared cheerful.

  * * *

  —

  Over the next two weeks, I tried to figure out which books to take back with me for the summer. In other words, which books could pass customs in Beijing? I decided on a dozen or so titles that didn’t contain graphics or bear any reference to China on their covers or in their front matter. Tsinghua University’s libraries didn’t show their online catalogs to outsiders, so there was no way for me to tell from here what would be available there. I had to guess what books I might be able to find at Tsinghua so that I didn’t have to bring those along. I also set up some Gmail and Hotmail accounts, because I couldn’t take my index cards back with me. Even if I could have, I might not have been able to bring them out of China when I returned. I meant to use the email accounts as safe-deposit boxes: whenever I accumulated some notes and materials, I emailed them to those accounts so that I could access them when I was back in the States.

  Meanwhile, I applied for a dissertation grant from the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation. I described the Tank Man topic pretty elaborately to give the impression that it was well researched and that I was ready to embark on writing. I called Mr. Lim in the Taipei Economic and Cultural Office and talked to him about my project. He was delighted to hear from me and asked me to send him my application as well so that he could have some idea of it. He also said that he would put in a good word for me if he could. According to the requirement, I needed to get two letters of recommendation for my application and have them submitted by the end of April.

  At my next meeting with Bailey, I mentioned my application for the fellowship. He was pleased to hear that, saying it would help speed up my research and writing if I was granted one, and he’d be happy to write on my behalf. I was relieved. Bailey could be sly and mean, but he wouldn’t break a promise. He often used the phrase “the word of a gentleman,” which meant one must keep one’s promise after it was made. He had once explained that if you went back on your word, people around you would consider you a liar, and in America, that was a serious character problem and people would shun you. Today he mentioned that his wife’s law firm had just taken a Chinese company’s case, and because it involved millions of dollars, Hilda was going to have to go to Shanghai and Guangzhou frequently with her colleagues. He would probably also go to keep her company on one or two of those trips if he could take a break from teaching and writing.

  As for the other recommendation, I asked Loana if she would do it. She had received a grant from the same foundation before, so her letter would carry plenty of weight. She was always ready to help, saying she was familiar with my project. A letter for me was in her file, and she just needed to update it.

  In late April, I heard from Jason again. He said he would be returning to Dalian in late May and would be staying with his parents for the rest of the summer. He wanted to go to Beijing to see me, and I was pleased but made clear that I wouldn’t be able to take him around, given the more than forty books I had to read. That was fine with him. I was still unsure if I wanted to develop a long-term relationship with him, but I thought my mother might like him, so it wouldn’t hurt to keep her pacified with his presence in my life. She always feared I might end up as a sheng nü, a leftover woman. That didn’t bother me, though. I could imagine a good life without having a man with me. America had taught me solitude, and I could accept it as a normal condition for me.

  Jason invited me to Dalian, saying it was a wonderful city for a summer vacation. A cool breeze blew over from the ocean at night, and it was never too sultry during the day. It was similar to Boston in climate, only less humid. I guessed he would want his parents to see me, but I felt uneasy about meeting them so soon. Nevertheless, I was tempted, having heard so much about that elegant city. I had to curb my urge to go so I could finish reading my books. I said I couldn’t join him there this time, though I might in the future.

  34

  IN EARLY MAY I was back with my mother again. I promised her that I wouldn’t go anywhere during the summer, and my life began to involve only three points: home, the university library, and the market, where I went to buy stuff for dinner that I cooked for both of us. I even told my father that I wouldn’t be able to come to Tianjin this summer because I had to cram for the forthcoming exam, which for a PhD candidate was like a matter of life and death.

  In mid-May he came to Beijing to see an expert herbalist for his arthritis. He stopped by while my mother was at work and we had lunch together—rice noodles sautéed with bean sprouts and slivers of chicken. He enjoyed the meal I’d made. Over lunch, we talked about my plan. He was happy to hear about the progress I had been making. He was well-read and had a lot of common sense, so in general I trusted his judgment. I told him about my dissertation topic and my worries about potential trouble with the Ministry of Education when I came back.

  He lowered his head of graying hair and took a sip of the tea I had poured for him after lunch. He said, “You shouldn’t worry ahead of time. Who’s to tell what will happen in a couple of years? Maybe Tank Man will become a significant public topic one of these days.”

  “What if the government makes my life difficult? If the Ministry of Education interferes, I won’t be able to find a decent job here.”

  “Who knows what will happen? Maybe you won’t need a teaching position when you come back. Didn’t you used to say you wanted to work at home, as a freelance translator?”

  “You’re right. How come I forgot I could do different things? I promised Mom I’d take care of her in the future. If I can’t find a job here, I might not be able to do that.”

  “Keep in mind, your mom wants what’s best for you. She must hate to let herself become an obstacle to your development.”

  “I haven’t talked to her about this yet.”

  “There’s no need to make her worry in advance. You must first complete your PhD. I’m sure that’s what your mom wants you to do, since you’ve already come such a long way.”

  Before he left, I made four big tuna sandwiches for him to take back. I told him my brothers might enjoy this typical American food. I wrapped each sandwich in cellophane and then put them into a small blue cooler for him to carry back. The conversation with him put my mind at ease, so I never brought up my concern to my mother. As planned, I proceeded with my graduate work in earnest.

  In early June, I still hadn’t heard from Jason, though I had emailed him a few times. I was certain he had finished his research in Taipei and was back in Dalian now, but why didn’t he respond to my messages? This was unlike him. He was supposed to be with his parents now. My mother was excited about his imminent visit and kept asking me what food he liked and whether I wanted him to stay with us. I had no idea about his plan or his preferences and couldn’t answer her.

  By mid-June, I still hadn’t heard from him. Something must be wrong. I had the phone number of his parents’ home, so I called the Wangs one night. His mother picked up, and I introduced myself as Lulu, a friend of Jason’s.

  She said, “I hope you’re not his girlfriend, are you?” “Not really. We went to college in Boston at the same time.” I was somewhat relieved that Jason hadn’t told his parents that I was his girlfriend.

  Mrs. Wang said, “So you went to college in America too?”

  “Yes, he and I have known each other for some years.”

  “His dad and I think we made a terrible mistake in letting him go to the U.S. for college. The American education has warped his mind.”

  “Why do you say that, Auntie?”

  “In recent years he won’t stop talking about Taiwan’s independence. He said we must respect the will of the Taiwanese people. We argued with him a lot, but there was no way to bring him around. Originally, we didn’t object when he began to look into the Tiananmen insurrection, but we didn’t expect he would adopt all the Western biases against China. He kept saying our country had betrayed him and the Chinese people, and that our government is the world’s number one liar.”

  “But I remember Jason once said that Mr. Wang had participated in the Tiananmen movement.”

  “Yes, but now my husband regrets getting entangled in that.”

  “Why does he feel differently now?”

  “What was the good of the whole thing? Look at those former student leaders. Where are they? They’ve all settled down in the West and enjoy themselves, eating bread soaked with the blood shed in the Tiananmen suppression. Do you think they would become better leaders if they toppled the government and seized the power? Do you think they’d be better than the Communists?”

  “I’ve no clue, Auntie. But where’s Jason now? Is he staying with you at this moment?”

  “No, the police have detained him.”

  I was shocked by her words. After a moment, I went on. “How did he land in the police’s hands?”

  “We didn’t know what to do with him, so we let the police handle him. Maybe they can straighten him out.”

  “You mean they arrested him?”

  “His father is here. Let him talk with you.”

  A smoky voice turned up and said, “If you’re Jason’s friend, you should persuade him to give up his reactionary views and irreverent behavior. None of you youngsters should become a separatist in support of Taiwan’s secession from China.”

  “I’m not a separatist, Uncle. Just now Auntie said the police apprehended Jason. What’s his crime?”

  “The police kept an eye on him for a long time. I’m sure they have some evidence against him. It’s good to let them stop him before he falls too deep into the swamp of crimes. What’s your full name? I will let him know you called when I go and see him again.”

  I was alarmed. If they could turn in their own son, they could easily sell me to the police without thinking twice, so I lied, “My name is Mei Ru. Just tell Jason I wish him a quick release and smooth return to Stanford.”

  “No problem, I’ll do that.”

  My heart kept kicking. I sensed that Jason must have done something more than express aberrant views to prompt the police to take him into custody. Probably he had done something unacceptable to the government. Still, even for that, they shouldn’t have arrested him like a criminal. It seemed like something terrible had happened.

  Jason’s trouble made me restless. What’s worse, I didn’t know how to break the bad news to my mother, who was still expecting to see my “boyfriend.” In her mind, he might have already become a prospective son-in-law. I got online to search for any news about Jason, but there wasn’t any mention of his detainment by the Chinese media. This made me more apprehensive. I realized someone could vanish in China without any trace or noise, like a leaf that falls in a dark night and is swept into a valley or river—nobody notices its disappearance or cares to know its whereabouts.

  I also tried to scale the Great Firewall to access Google, but to no avail. I emailed Loana to see if she had heard anything about Jason, whom I wasn’t even sure she remembered. Luckily, she got my message and responded within a day: “It’s big news here. Jason Wang was arrested for spying for the Taiwanese military. It’s said that he went to Port Arthur and shot photos of a nuclear submarine. The coastal sentries seized him and handed him over to the police. He is in serious trouble now. Don’t attempt to contact him from within China or you’ll endanger yourself. Try to keep a low profile and come back safely soon.”

  I was flabbergasted, and dared not communicate more with Loana about this, since emails were monitored by the internet police. I had known that Jason was active in advocating for the Taiwanese cause, but I never thought he’d be willing to serve as a spy. They must have paid him for that. Of course, the so-called crime might have just been something pinned on him, as the police can always trump up a charge. I hoped Jason hadn’t revealed anything about me. But again, I had done nothing against the Chinese government and shouldn’t be afraid of any charges. But as far as politics was concerned, there was no rationality in China, and anything could happen. What I feared most was a long detention that would disrupt my graduate work at Columbia. Just by keeping my passport, the police would have been able to ground me here permanently. Ideally, I should have headed back without delay, but my apartment was already sublet and wouldn’t be available until the end of August.

  But following my intuition, I stayed put and continued my daily routine. My mother was amazed that I could be as peaceful as a Persian cat. She even said that at my age, she had been boy-crazy, sneaking out of the house to meet someone whenever she could. She couldn’t possibly have discerned the turmoil and grief in me. I simply couldn’t afford to attract any attention while I was here. This was the way to survive, but I was reluctant to explain it to her. She’d have been scared out of her wits if she’d heard about Jason’s detention.