Eighty-Six, Lament for the Nation, Five Hundred Twelve

As car after car roared past through the corridors of cheering crowds, the atmosphere in the square was driven to a fever pitch.

An old farmer happened to be driving his tractor by and was caught in the middle of the road by the excited throng. He had probably never seen such a magnificent spectacle before; bewildered, he found himself swept up in the cheers of the whole square, and while still driving he kept grinning and waving at the people around him. The crowd, in turn, broke into a warm, perfectly timed laugh.

The parade vehicles circled the square back and forth several times, not stopping until the sky was beginning to pale with dawn. Only then did the people, who had been making noise all night, gradually quiet down. They scattered to find places to sit, gathering their strength and waiting for the historic moment when the torch would pass.

A group of us sat shoulder to shoulder along the stone edge of the sidewalk. It was a little past five in the morning, and the early wind felt chilly against the skin, making me unconsciously draw in on myself.

Half-asleep, I do not even know when I drifted off. By the time Xiaokai shook me awake, daylight had already broken.

To my surprise, I ran into classmates from our class in the square. It turned out that, with the tacit approval of our English teacher, the entire class had collectively chosen to skip school and come downtown to watch the torch relay.

The whole square was packed with people, so everyone scattered to search for the best possible vantage point. Xiaokai and I climbed onto the railing along the square’s street side. From that height, facing straight out toward the avenue, it was truly an ideal place to watch the relay.

But before we could enjoy it for long, the police came to clear us away. We had no choice but to retreat with the crowd outside the square. With the sea of people pressing in on every side, it was already too late to find another spot. I paced back and forth between both ends of the square several times, yet still failed to find a decent place to watch.

I do not know when I lost track of Xiaokai. Just as I was growing anxious, a deafening wave of cheers suddenly erupted from the crowd ahead, accompanied by thunderous cries of encouragement, and someone began singing the national anthem at the top of their voice. I knew then that the torch had arrived.

I strained up onto my toes, desperate to see what was happening, but there were simply too many people blocking the view. By the time the torch had passed on, all I had managed to catch was the faintest glimpse of its flame.

With the torch gone, the surrounding crowd began to follow the torchbearers in a mad run. Everyone was surging forward, and in an instant the entire avenue had been transformed into a mass marathon course.

By then I was already exhausted and worn thin. I called Xiaokai, then had the school send over a small van, which took us straight back.

Once back at school, I took a shower and went to sleep.

I slept so soundly that it felt as though the world had gone dark. When I finally woke, night had already fallen. Still half-dazed, I reached under my pillow for my phone and looked at the time. It was already seven in the evening.

There was also an unread text message.

"Xiao Bei!! Something happened!! A huge earthquake in Chengdu!! So many people died!!" The sender was Haozi. At first I only thought it was one of Haozi’s pranks and did not take it seriously. But just as I was about to get up to eat, my mother called and asked whether I had felt the earthquake around two in the afternoon.

Only then did I realize that something truly terrible had happened. I hurriedly hung up, groped my way in the dark to the computer desk, and switched on the computer.

Portals such as Sina and Sohu were already full of reports about the earthquake. I glanced over the pages and learned that the epicenter was not Chengdu at all, but Wenchuan, not far from Chengdu.

I then opened a forum I frequented. Since Wenchuan had been sealed off, rumors were flying even more wildly there. In short, everyone was saying something different. Secondhand tales twisted the whole event beyond recognition, and the more I read, the more bewildered I felt.

So I simply closed the pages and logged into QQ, hoping to find out what was going on from classmates studying in Chengdu. But none of them were online. Which was hardly surprising. After something this huge had happened, who still had the mind to go online?

I forgot to eat and lay back down on the bed without turning on the light. I had long since grown used to thinking over certain things in a dark room. Perhaps darkness was the best disguise I had when facing myself.

On October 3, 2007, in Sichuan, a sudden car accident took from me the dearest and most beloved Lele. That was a day I would never be able to forget for as long as I lived; on that day, all happiness left me.

On May 12, 2008, Sichuan was destined to become a day that cast a shadow over memory, a day that all Chinese people would never be able to forget. Mountains and rivers shook, the earth trembled, and beautiful homes turned into broken ruins. Living lives were torn away in an instant, while the toll of dead and injured continued to rise.

Though we had never met, I truly felt that I ought to do something...

The whole society was quickly mobilized. People did all they could, contributing whatever small strength they possessed for their compatriots. This time, the flag-selling drive brought in a total of 800 yuan. After deducting what we spent in the city, Xiaokai and I each received 300 yuan. I decided to use online banking to donate all of it to the Red Cross Society of China. It was not much, but it was my way of showing my concern.

A week later came the state-declared mourning days, during which all forms of entertainment had to cease.

On that special occasion, the teachers and students of our entire school also organized themselves spontaneously and prepared to hold candlelight prayer gatherings at the stadium on the evenings of the mourning period. With the tiny, wavering glow of candles, we would light the road to heaven and wish those departed souls a peaceful journey onward.

I had already arranged to go with a few friends, but to my surprise, once everything was ready, I suddenly fell ill. I was freezing all over. When I took my temperature, it was 38.3 degrees Celsius. At that rate, there was clearly no way I could go out.

"Xiao Bei, I’ll bring you some medicine when we get back," Chenyuan and Zhang Qi reminded me a few times before heading out, and even remembered to turn off the light in my room for me.

I lay in bed, groggy and feverish, when for some reason the couple next door suddenly began arguing in the bathroom. After a while, they seemed to make up, and shamelessly started making love in the bathroom. Because the walls were so poorly insulated, I could hear everything from my room, every bit of it crystal clear.

As the woman’s moans grew louder and louder, my patience reached its limit. But I could hardly storm over and tell them to stop. Helpless, I pulled the blanket over my head and played the ostrich.

More than ten full minutes passed before the room next door finally grew quiet again. I pushed the blanket aside, and by accident my hand brushed the empty expanse of the bedsheet beside me. A bleak, hollow feeling surged through my heart in an instant.

"The prince hasn’t even kissed you yet. How is it that my Sleeping Beauty is already awake?"

"Still talking nonsense, you little pig, Bei! Do you remember the one thing you owe me?"

"Mm, go on."

"If one day... I mean if, if one day I die, you have to promise me something. You must never forget me, and... and you must not do anything foolish..."

"Pighead, why are you suddenly saying all this?"

"Anyway, everyone has to be born, grow old, get sick, and die. Whether it takes a few years or a few decades, that day will come. I’m just afraid I’ll leave before you do, so... in any case, just promise me."

"Lele, you really do think far ahead. All right, I promise."

"No, you have to swear it!"

"Why are you making such a serious matter out of this? I swear!"

"Xiao Bei."

"Mm?"

"I want to be your wife."

...

The past drifted away like smoke. Holding a pillow in my arms, tears began to fall without warning. I missed the her I could no longer see, and I even imagined that the phone might suddenly ring, carrying that familiar "hello."

It seemed I still had not grown used to the loneliness of being alone.

Revised on October 14, 2010.