A Heart for Freedom (29 page)

Feng, too, was interested, and we came to call this peaceful young man Big Brother. He became our spiritual master, teaching us how to sit and meditate, how to practice tai chi, and how to take in the energy of the sun, the wind, and the universe and put it into our bellies. Soon Feng, Big Brother, and I were chanting together in unison, “
Wong ma ni ma mi hong wong ma ni ma mi hong
” (in English, “May all the evil stay away”).

24

China’s Most Wanted

On June 13, we were eating lunch and watching the news on TV when we saw a broadcast of the government’s most-wanted list—which included pictures of Feng and me. Though we’d been expecting this, it had a powerful impact when we finally saw it on the screen. The blood drained from my face as they showed the police accosting Xiong Yan, one of our close friends. His hands were twisted behind his back as two policemen pushed him along. Even so, our friend wore a smile on his face. I admired him for that.

The older couple with whom we were staying recognized our faces on the TV. After lunch, they told us they had decided to protect us. As our guardians, they locked us in a small room during the day and ordered us not to make any noise. At night, we prepared ourselves for potential interrogation by the police. In the distance, we could see the lights of Hong Kong, which fueled our hope of freedom. But those lights were a goal beyond our reach. We could, however, watch Hong Kong TV, and that’s how we learned that Li Lu and other student leaders had escaped China. We looked forward to the day when we, too, could leave.

I woke up every morning with the realization that I was not free. I was a wanted criminal. Yet each day as I watched the sun come up, I hoped some good news might reach us. Big Brother was working on a plan to get us out of China with the help of some of his friends. Days went by. Every evening, I watched the sun go down knowing we remained in peril. We had no idea how long we would have to wait; we only knew we were trapped. All we could do was sit in our room and wait.

Two months passed. Finally Feng decided he could wait no longer. We were putting too big of a burden on the couple protecting us, he said. He gathered Big Brother and his friends to form a plan to cross the border to the New Territories. These brave comrades put together all the items Feng needed to make his escape to freedom, except for one key item—an ID card, which Feng would need as a pass on the road.

Nevertheless, Feng left with his companions the following night. Before we parted, he told me he would make arrangements for my escape once he got to safety. I waited all the next day for Big Brother to return with news of Feng’s escape. My toothache flared up once again, and I spent the day in double agony.

Looking serious and troubled, Big Brother and his friends returned just after sunset. I could instantly see that all had not gone well. Big Brother broke the bad news. “We’re worried Feng might have been arrested.”

I was stunned.

They had taken a tested route that should have been clear. But out of the blue, two security guards had appeared. Big Brother, ever calm, had spoken to them in the local dialect. They said they’d been sent south to look for students from Beijing who might be trying to escape along the narrow route to the border. Feng was standing right in front of them. If he’d opened his mouth, his Mandarin would have given him away. But he was spared; the guards let them pass without asking for his ID.

Big Brother had a bad feeling as they proceeded. He wanted to change plans and organize another approach. As they returned along the same path they’d taken, a farmwoman in a field asked if they were helping students from Beijing. She pointed to a shed on the side of the road ahead and warned them that security forces were waiting there.

Big Brother and his companions chose another route.

As the group pressed on toward the border, Feng became weak. He hadn’t accounted for how much two months in hiding had weakened his muscles. He kept falling as they climbed a mountain along the way.

Finally they reached the river separating the People’s Republic of China from the New Territories. Feng had planned to swim the river to safety, a fantasy that evaporated when he saw armed police stationed up and down the riverbank at one-hundred-yard intervals. The men quickly realized they’d have to postpone Feng’s escape until they could formulate a new plan. They split up and agreed to meet at a secure location.

When Big Brother got on the bus, he realized the police had intensified their inspection process. He knew Feng was on another bus without an ID and with no command of the local dialect. Feng was clearly in grave danger, and Big Brother was powerless to help him. He reached the agreed-upon meeting site and waited for a long time, but Feng never showed up.

Their message for me was urgent. If Feng had been caught, his captors would soon find out where I was hiding and come for me. We had to leave at once for a new location.

“Gather your stuff quickly,” Big Brother said. “We don’t have any time to lose.”

As I packed, I began to weep. I picked up Feng’s clothes and could still smell his scent. My tears fell on the pages of the book he had just been reading. Never in a million years had I thought he’d be captured or killed almost immediately. He’d told me he would send for me once he reached freedom. Now he might not even be alive.

I heard a soft knock and Big Brother’s voice through the door. “Let’s go,” he said. “No time to mourn.”

When he saw me, his face sank. I guess the sight of my puffy red eyes and tear-streaked face aroused a sense of guilt.

“I am very sorry. I have underestimated the danger,” he said quietly.

“Oh, no,” I said, trying to be brave. “You did everything you could. I am deeply grateful.”

Big Brother put me on a bus headed north and told me where to find my contacts at the other end. I took one last look at the lights of freedom across the water.

* * *

For the next several weeks, I shuttled from one home to another within a network of devout Buddhists. I was in such emotional turmoil that my mind and heart were open to their spiritual nurturing. On the run, it was easy to break my attachment to material things such as money, beauty, fame, power, and emotion. The only thing that still held an attraction for me was love—my attachment to my beloved Feng, my family, and my friends. It grieved me not to know whether Feng was alive or dead. And I was unable to contact my family to find out what had happened to them. I had no idea it would be this hard.

I prayed for enlightenment to a statue of the Buddha and promised to forsake everything I once loved, except my family. I missed them, and I couldn’t help it. “Is this what you intended?” I asked. “For me to live in the present without attachment to any worldly things?” When I opened my eyes, the smiling statue of the Buddha was silent.

“Should I cut my hair,” I inquired, “and become a Buddhist nun and serve you in the temple?” The Buddha was still silent, still smiling.

My last stopping place was with a family of simple peasants. They were gentle and kind, free from anger and gossip. They found joy in the small things of life. Their kindness worked on the grief I felt for the loss of Feng. Gradually I achieved a state of peace. I decided that if Feng had indeed been captured, I would either turn myself in or join a temple and become a nun. With that, I passed a milestone I had not known existed.

Two weeks later, word reached me that Feng was safe.

Though I was overjoyed to hear the news, for reasons of safety, I was not allowed to join him. Pictures identifying us as a couple had been sent out all over China.

Mug shots of me had been posted everywhere. The authorities were searching for me high and low. Ten girls who looked like me were locked up and interrogated. According to one rumor, Wang Zhen, an old crony of Deng Xiaoping’s, had declared, “Until we find Chai Ling, the Tiananmen incident will not be finished.” It was vital for me to avoid capture.

With the help of Big Brother and other rescue workers, I came up with a plan to change my appearance. A small bit of plastic surgery on both eyelids added an extra fold that gave me a distinctly different look from the person in the mug shots. Big Brother also sent a trusted friend to visit my parents to tell them I was alive and well in hiding. I was particularly grateful to him for that.

One afternoon there was a knock on the door of the house where I was staying. I immediately went to my hiding place. A few minutes later, my host brought me out, and I beheld Big Brother with Feng. They were in the process of transferring Feng to another location. I was thrilled to have him back in my arms, even if only for that one afternoon. He told me about his adventures and how he had been studying Buddhism and practicing meditation every day.

When evening came and Feng had to leave, he saw the tears in my eyes. He gave me a hug and promised he would come for me no later than the Spring Festival, which is Chinese New Year, when we would once again try to escape. He said this with such conviction that I had no doubt he would make it happen. From that time on, I dreamed about how happy we would be when we were finally free. It kept my spirits alive.

To prepare for the long journey, I was determined to get my body in shape. Every morning, I got up early and practiced tai chi, then took a cold bath and rubbed my skin with a wet washcloth until I was pink all over. When I emerged from the tub, my blood was racing and I was ready to face the day.

I also began to pray furiously and devoted myself to reading Buddhist scriptures. This kind of learning was so different from all the studying I had done from childhood through college.

When your past has been stolen and you don’t know what the future holds, you can only concentrate on the present moment. Yet the present, too, was filled with questions. I never knew when the authorities might discover where I was or what they would do once they found me. Sometimes I would gaze out the window at the crisp, white clouds and imagine spirits were waiting to lift me from my entrapment. At other times I imagined myself as a Buddhist nun living a life of worship and solitude. Once upon a time, I had lived a life according to a crazy schedule with hardly any time for sleep or rest. To contemplate a life of solitude and nothingness was a great and difficult change for me. Was this the Buddha’s idea of living in the moment?

Each day, I had to find a way to prevent the nothingness from driving me insane. That was the challenge in my life that renewed itself day by day. I had to concentrate my energy to prepare for a remote and unknown world. Each morning the sun came up; each evening it went down. Then, after a long, difficult night, the sun rose again on another day of waiting for something to happen.

* * *

Spring Festival is important to the children of China the way Christmas is to American children. It is
the
big celebration, ushering in the new year. It is the time when parents provide their children with a new wardrobe for the entire year. My siblings and I would ask to go to bed early so we could put our new clothes under our pillows all night.

Firecrackers often go off before dawn and wake everyone. They are intended to scare away the ghosts. My father was superstitious about Chinese New Year and always took the day off, believing that if he did, he wouldn’t have to work as hard during the coming year. Invariably, however, he’d be called to the hospital to treat people with firecracker injuries.

The army used to provide each family with either a half or a whole pig’s head, and the tongue was a special holiday treat. During this time of celebration, we were not supposed to do any work or perform chores; we were only supposed to eat and socialize. Now that I was far from my home and family and unable to communicate with them, all I had were the memories of our Chinese New Year celebrations together.

Even though I was a fugitive, I refused to give up and let the Spring Festival pass me by—especially since I was expecting Feng to return, as he’d promised. At the risk of being discovered, I slipped out of my hiding place to shop for the ingredients I would need to cook a great feast for Feng.

In a store where I’d stopped to purchase fish and meat, someone who looked like a soldier in civilian clothes came in to buy matches. Something clicked in his mind when he saw me, and I had to fight my instinct to run. My heart pounding, I paid for my purchases and sauntered past him as if everything was just fine. As soon as I stepped out the door, however, I started to run. I ducked into an alley and then peered out and saw the man calling to some colleagues to search the area. I crisscrossed a few streets and made my way back to my hiding place via a circuitous route. Only now, as I write about it, do I realize how foolish I was.

The people who were protecting me prepared the meals for Feng, though one of my hosts laughed at my stubborn determination.

“I can’t believe you really think he will come for you in this situation,” she said.

Her casual tone upset me.

“He said he’d come, and he will,” I said. “You’ll see. I’m staying here until he does.”

Reluctantly my hosts left and went away to spend the holiday with relatives. They wanted to take me along, but I didn’t want to miss Feng when he came, so I chose to stay behind. This time I was completely alone. My hosts were afraid their neighbors might realize there was someone still in the house, so they insisted I not turn on any lights or do any cooking.

I changed into traveling clothes, packed a small bag for the road, and sat down to wait for Feng. New Year’s Eve came and went. In the evening, I heard the neighbors laughing and imagined the television shows they were watching. I tried not to fall asleep, so I wouldn’t miss the knock on the door when Feng came for me. At dawn firecrackers began to explode, and the noise went on for most of the morning. I still waited and prayed for Feng to arrive. Perhaps he had been forced to take a longer route.