Last Kiss in Tiananmen Square Read Online Free PDF Page B

power net. They abused power together and they abused the law together. Then he started to close his eyes, letting things go by. He had never become a part of the power net. He managed to stay out. Now he just wanted to paddle through his old age peacefully.
     
    Now the students stirred things up again. Lao Yu did not believe they would make any difference. China was too old and too big. If anything did happen, it would have to come from the top. Through reading the newspaper, he knew the whole world was changing. Maybe the breeze of democracy and freedom would finally sweep through old China.
     
    Lao Liu looked at Dagong who was staring into the darkness. He had been surprised to see Dagong in the Square, among the students, listening to their debate. He would be surprised to see Dagong simply ride through the square given the present situation. He could not believe he was the same Dagong he used to know. In his mind, Dagong had been dead for the last twenty years. Waves of political movements had whipped Dagong into a tame animal, tamer than a sheep. He never argued with anyone in the yard, didn’t even speak loudly to anyone. Dagong, the quiet, self-absorbed person he used to know, was now becoming an activist. God must be insane.
     
    “Hey, do you know what time it is?” Dagong’s wife, Zhang Ping, came out of the door. “Every night, you sit here, smoking. What are you thinking of? You’d better come back and study!”
     
    Dagong stood up, sighed and trudged to the kitchen. He found some hot water in the kettle on the stove. He poured it into a washbasin, mixed it with some cold water from the water tap in the yard and washed his face. He rinsed his feet and slippers with the leftover brown soapy water, and then returned to his room.
     
    They had one room with a narrow storage room in the back. It had a double wooden bed, a desk and several suitcases stacked together. Rings of yellow stains covered walls with no wallpaper. A fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling bathed the small room. As usual, when he came home, there was chaos.
     
    “Let your father see what you have done in kindergarten!” Zhang Ping stood behind the door, red-faced, pointing her finger toward their five-year old son, Little Turnip. He stared at the floor. An adult size T-shirt draped down on his shoulders like a nightgown. He held a small electronic toy in his shaking hands.
     
    “He took the kindergarten’s toy without telling his teacher.” Zhang Ping said.
     
    “You told me to do it,” mumbled Little Turnip.
     
    “I didn’t tell you to do it in front of your teacher. Your teacher stopped by here earlier and asked me to tighten up the rules at home. I was so embarrassed. How can I hold my head up in front of other people?” She turned to Dagong, “You’d better study hard, and pass the test so we can go to America. Then we can afford to buy fancy toys like that ourselves.”
     
    Dagong did not react. He felt hundreds of bugs creeping along his back. He was hot. He was tired of Zhang Ping’s usual complaints about money. He wanted to throw them both out of the house. But what could he do? Who let him stay in this house? Who had assigned him his current job? And who had provided him with his wife? He should thank Zhang Ping’s father for these. He did not have many choices. He was lucky enough to have it at all. Of course, he was concerned about his son. Little Turnip should get a good education and become a decent person. Even this was beyond his control. Zhang Ping was too possessive of their son. She was too possessive about everything.
     
    He lifted Little Turnip up and held him to his chest, so he could talk to him face to face. “Little Turnip, did you hear what your mother said. Don’t do that anymore, Okay? Never bring a school toy home without asking your teacher.”
     
    “Yes.” Little Turnip nodded. Tears ran down his face.
     
    Then Dagong turned toward Zhang Ping. “Zhang Ping, I think you and