Forbidden City by William Bell Read Free Book Online Page A

tight, buses inched along the road, taxis crept past honking angrily. Cyclists were so tightly jammed together that many people had given up and were walking.
    I picked up the two-way.
    “Dad? This is Alex. You there? Over.”
    I could hear lots of crowd noise in the background when Eddie answered. “Alex? Eddie here. Yep, your dad and I and Lao Xu are right near the Monument to the People’s Heroes. What’s up? Over.”
    “Nothing, Eddie. Just wondered what was happening. Over.”
    “Lots, so far. The base of the monument is already piled high with flowers. The students have organized things pretty well, so that people who want to leave something on the monument in Hu’s memory line up.”
    Eddie’s voice sounded like he was doing one of his news broadcasts. Cool and distant. “So far everything is orderly. Your dad is trying to climb up theback of the monument’s base to get better angle for his pictures. Is he always this crazy? Over.”
    I laughed. “Most of the time. Over.”
    If you want to come down, walk. You’ll have trouble getting your bike through the crowds. Over.”
    “Okay, Eddie. I think I will come down for a look. Maybe I’ll see you. Over.”
    “Bring me a cold beer, will you? Over and out.”
    I loaded up my backpack with my usual electronic goodies and took the elevator down to the lobby and left the hotel.
    Well, I did go to the square, but it was pretty boring. There
were
a lot of people there, but hundreds of thousands of people just means lots of people. Most of them were about university age, and many of the people near the monument and the flowers were crying. There were also a lot of cops.
    But I don’t know anything about Hu Yao-bang, and I’m not interested in politics anyway. I’m not a cynic like some kids I know. I don’t think all politicians are crooks or anything. I just think they’re boring. So I didn’t stay in the square too long.

Tonight after dinner Lao Xu turned up. After saying hello to Dad and Eddie, he said to me, “You doing anything special now, Shan Da?”
    I put down my book. “No, not really.”
    “Want to come with me to hear some live history? Military history? It’s nearby,” he added to my dad.
    “Sure,” I answered. “Is it okay, Dad?”
    Dad nodded.
    “Bring your tape recorder, Shan Da.” Lao Xu said. “And better wear your Chinese disguise.”
    A few minutes later we were cycling through a cool evening along the west side of Tian An Men Square, which was well lit up by the streetlights. There were lots of people in the square, most of them near the base of the Monument to the People’s Heroes. Lots of cyclists out, too.
    Once past the square we continued south along Qian Men Street, the route the emperor used to take when he went to the Temple of Heaven to pray for good harvests. There’s a big park there. I read that Mao Ze-dong used the park as an execution ground to get rid of his political enemies, but I didn’t say anything to Lao Xu about that. He likes Mao.
    Qian Men is a narrow street with lots of
hu tongs
leading off it. The buildings along the street are very old. We turned right onto one of the
hu tongs
and Lao Xu led the way as we rode slowly, dodging carts and pedestrians and mini-transports — those big three-wheeled bikes with the platform behind the driver.
    Lao Xu stopped and we pushed our bikes through a gate and into a courtyard about twice the size of a tennis court. We locked our bikes under a tree and crossed the courtyard to an old building. Inside was a darkened room, full of small round tables. A couple of dozen men sat around the tables smoking, drinking tea or beer, and talking. Some were playing Chinese chess on the paper “boards”, picking up theround pieces and slapping them down as they completed their moves.
    Lao Xu and I found an empty table at the end of the room, right beside a small dais. I sat down while Lao Xu went to a sort of bar and bought a couple of bottles of orange pop and some