The Crazed by Ha Jin Page A

which went on shaking.
    Although he sounded stubborn and grief-stricken, he now looked obsequious, as if making an effort to smile ingratiatingly. His jaw muscles were tight, trembling. He resumed speaking, but his voice grew weaker and weaker, his words again unintelligible. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t figure out anything. Meanwhile, the look on his face became more and more fawning. He smiled and moaned alternately. Never had I seen such an eerie face, which raised goose bumps on my forearms.
    I was confused and upset. When I took over from Banping, I had expected a relatively quiet afternoon, like the day before, so that I could review a few chapters of the textbook, but again Mr. Yang spoiled my plan. My desire for work was all gone. Stretched out on the wicker chair, I closed my eyes and gave free rein to my thoughts about his secret life.

6
    I was still gloomy after dinner. Having no desire to study, I didn’t go to Mr. Yang’s office as I had planned, and instead returned to the dormitory. Fortunately on my bed was a letter from Meimei. I brushed a winged ant off my sheet, lay down, and opened the envelope. She obviously hadn’t received my letter about her father’s condition yet. She said:
    April 19, 1989
    Dear Jian,
    How is everything? Have you quit smoking? Each year four million people die of smoking-related diseases in our country. Please follow my advice and quit. You know I cannot stand the smell of tobacco.
    It’s getting hot in Beijing, and sometimes windy and dusty. My school is kind of chaotic at this moment, because every day thousands of students take to the streets to demonstrate against official corruption. They’re especially angry at the top leaders’ children who have made fortunes by taking advantage of their offices and connections. Many students are talking about marching to Tiananmen Square. I have heard that this is a joint effort of the students from several colleges in Beijing. They demand rapid political reform and that the government take drastic measures to stop corruption and inflation. I don’t believe their demonstrations can change anything, so up to now I have avoided participating. I am going to take the exams in less than five weeks. For the time being, nothing is more important to me than getting ready for them.
    How is your preparation going? If you run into any difficulty, feel free to ask my dad for help. Try to concentrate on foreign languages and politics. These are the areas where people tend to stumble. Of course you know this, and I have more confidence in you than in myself. You will definitely score high points in all the subjects. You’re one of the best rising scholars, as my dad often says.
    I guess you haven’t yet figured out what I like most about you. I won’t tell you now, but I may in the future. I have enclosed my kisses and hugs. Take care.
    Yours,
    Meimei
    I had heard of the students’ demonstrations in Beijing, but hadn’t thought they would reach such a large scale. These days I rarely listened to the Voice of America or the BBC. My roommate Mantao, who had followed the news, often mentioned the demonstrations. But every evening, after dinner, I would spend several hours in Mr. Yang’s office reviewing textbooks; when I came back, my roommates would have gone to sleep, so we seldom talked. I had to devote myself to the preparation for the Ph.D. exams. Such a degree would eventually place me among the top literary scholars in China. Currently there were only a few thousand doctoral students in the whole country, and less than ten percent of them were in the humanities.
    Meimei was right to shun political activities. My parents had always urged me to steer clear of politics. My father had once been an editor in Tianjin City, in charge of a column on women’s issues. Because he publicly criticized the Party secretary at his newspaper, he had been branded a rightist and banished to Fujin, a frontier town in Heilongjiang Province, where he worked