The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement — My Personal Experience and Testimony
Part One: Introduction
Thirty-seven years after the great, momentous democracy movement of 1989, fate finally brought me to the free soil of New York, in the United States, on 11 September 2026, after I had spent much of my life enduring persecution, suffering in silence, and confronting countless hardships and dangers.
Since coming abroad, nothing has moved or comforted me more deeply than formally joining the Waigaolian Alumni Association. Here I met my old comrade Wang Xing, the association’s president — the same man who, as Waigaolian’s vice-chairman (deputy commander-in-chief) and secretary-general, had fought closely alongside me, sharing mortal danger and shouldering heavy burdens. When I, a former member of the Secretariat, ‘rejoined the ranks’ after thirty-seven years of upheaval, we were overwhelmed by the feeling that we had lived through more than one lifetime. In particular, Wang Xing’s documentary history, The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement, written and published on Waigaolian’s behalf as its first history told from the organisation’s perspective, has deeply moved me and many fellow participants in the 1989 movement and struck a powerful chord. Wang Xing gave me a personally signed copy of this substantial work, which carries the spirits, blood and tears of countless participants, and urged me earnestly: ‘This is the history we share as Waigaolian students and as the generation of 1989. Remember it always, and carry forward the spirit of the 1989 democracy movement and the history of Waigaolian.’
Opening this documentary history brought back vivid memories of those bright, gifted young students in the prime of their lives, and of the many outstanding people and ordinary citizens from every walk of life who risked everything for freedom, democracy and progress. I remembered the students and citizens who bravely resisted the Chinese Communist Party’s massacre on 4 June, and the torture, coerced confessions, and struggles of courage and wits behind prison walls. Memories brutally severed by those walls and bars came flooding back.
In 1989, I was not a university student sheltered in an ivory tower. I was a plumber and electrician recently demobilised from the airfield barracks section of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force’s 14th Aviation Division. In a force entrusted with defending the skies, I had received rigorous military training and acquired solid professional skills in barracks plumbing and electrical work. I was filled with patriotic commitment and a serviceman’s sense of honour. Yet when I returned to civilian life, at an age when I should have been full of confidence, what awaited me was the oppressive hand of the system and cruel discrimination. I had been formally notified that I would be assigned a job at a local branch of the Agricultural Bank of China in Jiangsu Province. But after I had worked there for more than a month, full of hope, local officials handed me a contract that trampled on my dignity as a former serviceman: I was to receive only the humiliating status of a ‘temporary worker’. Under a bureaucracy in which advancement required gifts, personal connections mattered, and corruption was rampant, I, a capable and ambitious veteran with valuable skills, had to endure such unjust and ruthless exploitation simply because I had no influential connections and would not join in corrupt practices. The gulf between my expectations and reality, and the discrimination built into the system, caused me profound distress and prompted a clear-eyed examination of the nature of our society.
In mid-to-late April 1989, while I was travelling to Shandong on business with my older male cousin, the student democracy movement that would astonish the world erupted in Beijing. From then on, I followed it constantly. By mid-May, when I heard that students and citizens in Tiananmen Square were staging mass marches and demonstrations, calling for ‘integrity and opposition to corruption, punishment of corrupt officials, and progress for the country’, and undertaking a hunger strike, and that students and citizens across China were organising delegations to Beijing to support their petition, it struck me to the core as a former serviceman. This was far more than a student march or petition. It confronted the fundamental ills of Chinese society and spoke directly to the bureaucratic persecution and injustice I had experienced in civilian life as an ordinary citizen and demobilised airman. At that moment, my personal grievances became inseparable from the fate of the country. I realised profoundly that unless the country’s bureaucratic system changed and corruption was eradicated, ordinary people and servicemen who had shed blood and devoted themselves to their country would remain at the mercy of others. Driven by this powerful sense of social justice and determination to resist injustice, I unhesitatingly joined a delegation of university students from Jiangsu travelling to Beijing in solidarity, and threw myself into the movement in support of democracy.
The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement records my experiences and the main events in which I took part during the movement. It describes my responsibilities in several places: ‘Jia Zhengbao: secretarial work and security (from Huaiyin City, Jiangsu)’ (p. 61); ‘Xiao Jia from the Secretariat, who had been sent to find Commander-in-Chief Lian Shengde’ (p. 75); ‘Jia Zhengbao: documentation and security (from Huaiyin City, Jiangsu)’ (p. 133); and ‘Jia Zhengbao: a principal member of the Secretariat (from Jiangsu)’ (p. 263, the list of those held in Qincheng Prison). These variations reflect two phases of the movement and two successive command structures: first, the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters established on 19 May and Waigaolian’s early organisational structure; second, the command structure following Waigaolian’s reorganisation. These descriptions reflect my actual experiences at different stages of the 1989 democracy movement. I quote the book’s wording without exaggerating my role.
Part Two: My Experience in the Waigaolian Command Centre and the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters
Around 17 May 1989, I arrived in Tiananmen Square with the delegation of university students from Jiangsu and immediately joined the students and citizens marching and demonstrating. At about 9 p.m. on 19 May, the students announced the end of their hunger strike. Reports were circulating throughout the square that the Chinese Communist Party government was about to impose military control over Tiananmen Square. The Provisional Headquarters was organising students and citizens into steward teams to stop troops entering the city. I did not retreat in fear of the impending military control. Without hesitation, I joined a team about to leave for Beijing Railway Station, a major transport hub. Drawing on the security skills I had learned in the Air Force and my passionate commitment, I stood on the front line of blocking the troops and protecting the students, and was chosen to lead a steward squad. Before setting out, the leaders of several teams, including me, went to the square’s headquarters, where we met Lian Shengde, who encouraged and briefed us. After 10 p.m. that night, when I returned to report on the situation at the front line, I attended an on-site meeting chaired by Wang Xing, secretary-general of the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters, to establish liaison and coordination between the Headquarters Secretariat and the steward teams. To coordinate communications and deployments between the front-line teams blocking the troops and headquarters, I was assigned to the Secretariat as one of its more than twenty members and appointed liaison secretary and security team leader. Subsequently, I also worked with Waigaolian’s General Steward Corps to coordinate several thousand steward teams. At that time, Wang Xing headed the Secretariat as secretary-general of the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters; Zheng Xuguang was commander-in-chief and Lian Shengde deputy commander-in-chief. It was during this period that I learned that the Secretariat also served as Waigaolian’s Secretariat, with Lian Shengde as Waigaolian commander-in-chief and Wang Xing as deputy commander-in-chief and secretary-general. Looking back at that moment in 1989 — at those open-hearted, fearless university students prepared to face danger while petitioning for democracy, freedom and the people, and at the citizens who selflessly stood together against a common threat — I dare not forget. I must never forget.
For a long time, accounts of the 1989 democracy movement in China and abroad have suffered from a blind spot: the elevation of a ‘Beijing student inner circle’ to celebrity status, with attention often concentrated on a few local leaders. Yet Waigaolian — representing hundreds of universities outside Beijing, the millions of students who travelled to the capital in solidarity, and a broad core of student organisation across the country — was for many years unfairly marginalised in historical writing. By placing the organisation’s history at the centre of his account, and drawing on painstakingly researched sources and an objective account of its development, Wang Xing has restored Waigaolian and the 1989 democracy movement to their rightful historical context, corrected the record, and created an enduring monument to the lives and sacrifices of the movement.
Much of the detailed history of 19–24 May in Chapter Two of The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement concerns events I experienced personally. In the early hours and morning of 19 May, on the steps of the Museum of Chinese History on the east side of Tiananmen Square and around the Monument to the People’s Heroes, I joined countless university students and citizens from all walks of life in hearing about and witnessing the establishment of Waigaolian and the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters. Waigaolian was initiated jointly by representatives of students from hundreds of universities across China who had come to Beijing, under the leadership of Lian Shengde of the Civil Aviation Institute of China in Tianjin and other students. Soon afterwards, that same morning, the student movement’s broadcasting station at the monument announced that Waigaolian and the Beijing Students’ Autonomous Federation, or Beigaolian, had jointly established the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters. The formal establishment of these two bodies was among the most important milestones of the 1989 democracy movement.
Experiencing Martial Law and the Resistance to It
On the night of 19 May, I was assigned to the Secretariat of the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters, which also served as Waigaolian’s Secretariat. That night I met Lian Shengde, Wang Xing, Zheng Xuguang and others. Before that, I had joined a steward team under the Provisional Headquarters and been chosen as a squad leader. Because I understood military affairs and was coordinating liaison with steward teams and efforts to block military vehicles, I was then transferred to the Secretariat. More than twenty people were recruited at that time; I was one of them, appointed liaison secretary and security team leader. As liaison secretary, I coordinated communications and deployments between the front-line steward teams and headquarters. As security team leader, I used the skills I had learned in the Air Force to protect students and maintain order, and worked with Waigaolian’s General Steward Corps to coordinate the teams. Blocking military vehicles, protecting students and keeping headquarters safe were my daily tasks.
From the evening of 19 May into the night, reports spread throughout Tiananmen Square that the Chinese Communist Party government was about to impose martial law in Beijing and that troops were coming into the city. The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. The Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters immediately organised students and citizens into steward teams and sent them to intersections to block military vehicles and troops from entering. We could not allow the army into the city to suppress the patriotic student movement. I unhesitatingly joined a team that was about to depart. As a former airman who understood security and organisation, I was chosen by the others to lead the squad. That night, we had only one task: stop the military vehicles and keep the troops out of the city. Because I took an active part in blocking those vehicles and understood military organisation and communications, the Headquarters Secretariat transferred me from the steward team to the Secretariat that same night. More than twenty people were recruited; I was one of them, appointed liaison secretary and security team leader.
On 20 May, the martial law order was formally issued. Large numbers of troops began advancing into Beijing; this was now a very real threat. Our steward teams guarded intersections and major roads around the clock. Whenever news came of troops advancing, we immediately reported it to headquarters and tried to persuade them to stop or block their passage. Beijing residents also stepped forward of their own accord: men and women, young and old, came onto the streets to help block military vehicles, bring us food and water, and pass on information. Without the people of Beijing, we students and stewards could never have held out during those days.
On the morning of 21 May, several Secretariat members and I accompanied Wang Xing to Waigaolian’s headquarters in front of the Museum of Chinese History on the east side of Tiananmen Square. Acting on behalf of Waigaolian, Wang Xing established the General Steward Corps. Thousands upon thousands of stewards stood in formation as he announced and appointed its commander and deputy commander, as well as some of its unit commanders. The ‘General Corps’ was something I experienced directly. As the Secretariat’s security team leader, part of my job was to work with it to maintain contact and coordinate the various steward teams. Without unified command and communications, the vast numbers of teams and their members in the square and at major road junctions would have remained scattered and uncoordinated. The purpose of the General Steward Corps was to organise these protesting students and citizens into a functioning structure, with units, command and communications. Within Waigaolian’s organisation, Zhao Xin served as commander of the General Steward Corps. My liaison and security work brought me into frequent contact with the corps: information from the front line came up through this channel, and headquarters’ instructions went back down through it.
It was precisely this organisation that enabled several thousand steward teams to hold intersections and block military vehicles under martial law. That is why Chapter Five of The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement resonates so deeply with me. Waigaolian’s General Steward Corps was no organisation that existed merely on paper: it was a tremendous force that was actually operating during those days.
During those first days surrounding the imposition of martial law — 19, 20, 21 and 22 May — my work in the Secretariat had three main aspects. First was liaison, principally between the General Steward Corps, the various front-line teams and headquarters: passing up reports from the front line and passing down instructions, as well as visiting major road junctions to observe and investigate the situation of the troops and our steward teams. Second was security: protecting students, maintaining order in the square and keeping headquarters safe. Third, together with my Secretariat colleagues, I assisted Waigaolian’s External Liaison Department and its head, a fellow participant surnamed Liu, as well as Secretary-General Zhao Changqing, with external liaison work.
Those were the most intense and unforgettable days of my involvement in the 1989 democracy movement. We worked day and night without pause, catching a little sleep at headquarters or at the steward teams’ posts when we were exhausted, and eating food brought by residents when we were hungry. Yet my purpose was clear: we were blocking more than troops and military vehicles; we were blocking gun barrels aimed at students and the people. We stewards and the citizens of Beijing placed our own bodies in the army’s path to protect the students and citizens in Tiananmen Square who were striving for democracy.
The Headquarters did not descend into confusion in the face of martial law. While organising resistance to it, we also put the Headquarters’ own organisational arrangements in place, one by one. That was the reality of those days, and my personal experience during martial law. I write only about what I experienced. Where I cannot remember, I neither write nor invent.
The Seals of Waigaolian and the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters
In the early days of martial law in Beijing, the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters had an official organisational seal made bearing the words ‘Long Live the Motherland’. Secretary-General Wang Xing kept the seal, and its use required joint authorisation: two of Zheng Xuguang, Lian Shengde and Wang Xing had to approve before it could be used. Waigaolian’s organisational seal bore the words ‘Long Live the People’. It too was personally kept by Wang Xing, in his capacity as deputy commander-in-chief and secretary-general, and its use required his approval together with that of Commander-in-Chief Lian Shengde. As a Secretariat member responsible for documentation and security, I applied on several occasions to use the ‘Long Live the Motherland’ seal to stamp passes for leaders of the various steward teams travelling to and from headquarters. I understood deeply the weight these two seals carried. The official seal embodied the Headquarters’ standing and administrative authority. At that critical moment under martial law, with so many people in the square and so many organisations at different levels, it would have been difficult to establish the Headquarters’ authority and ensure that its orders were carried out without a recognisable official seal and strict rules governing its use.
From the early hours of 23 May to the morning of 24 May, Beigaolian temporarily returned to the universities to rest and regroup. By agreement, Chai Ling, who had led the hunger-strike group, took over as commander-in-chief of the Provisional Headquarters for an authorised period of forty-eight hours. On 24 May, the situation in the square changed. Beigaolian did not return as scheduled to continue jointly administering the Tiananmen Square Provisional Headquarters with Waigaolian. Chai Ling and others changed its name to the Headquarters for the Defence of Tiananmen Square, and its management arrangements changed as well, disrupting the previous system and deployments. Lian Shengde and Wang Xing acted decisively, leading us Secretariat members out and back to Waigaolian’s headquarters to continue our work. I was among them and followed them there without missing a step. That evening, several Secretariat members and I accompanied Lian Shengde and Wang Xing to a meeting of university representatives on the monument’s second tier. Using a handheld loudhailer, Wang Xing announced that a meeting of leaders of student organisations from universities outside Beijing would be held at Waigaolian’s headquarters the following evening.
Part Three: Waigaolian’s Reorganisation and Consolidation — the Autonomous Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing
Waigaolian’s reorganisation on 25 May was a pivotal event in its history. As a member of the Secretariat, I took part in the entire process.
By late afternoon and early evening on 25 May, more than two hundred representatives from universities outside Beijing had arrived early at Waigaolian’s headquarters to await the meeting. By then, Wang Xing was the only deputy commander-in-chief still holding his post. He led, planned and organised this meeting to expand and reorganise Waigaolian. He told the student representatives that Waigaolian should develop beyond Beijing, coordinating and organising the student movement throughout the country, and that its structure must therefore be expanded and strengthened in accordance with democratic principles. He also called on the Secretariat and Organisation Department to take an active role in helping the meeting accomplish that task. Under the arrangements for the meeting, universities from each province elected standing committee members, and each major region then elected executive committee members, who were added to Waigaolian’s leadership. Its existing commander-in-chief and deputy commanders-in-chief served as executive committee members, while the principal heads of departments served as standing committee members. At the same time, the organisation’s name was formally changed from the ‘Provisional Command Centre for Students from Universities Outside Beijing Who Had Come to the Capital’ to the ‘Autonomous Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing’. From that day through the period after 4 June, this remained the organisation and its name.
Following its expansion and reorganisation, Waigaolian’s principal leaders were Lian Shengde as chairman and Wang Xing as vice-chairman and secretary-general. More than thirty executive and standing committee members were added, and additional heads were appointed to the various functional departments of Waigaolian’s headquarters. There was another personnel change: Ge Gang, Waigaolian’s executive deputy commander-in-chief in its early phase, had been taken back to Tianjin by his father on 23 May. After the reorganisation, Lian Shengde and Wang Xing played the leading roles. Before the meeting, we had been accustomed to saying ‘commander-in-chief’ and ‘deputy commander-in-chief’; afterwards, we generally used ‘chairman’ and ‘vice-chairman’. Lian Shengde returned to headquarters only near the end of that day’s meeting, when the final decision on expansion and reorganisation was reached. We had originally intended to wait for him before beginning, but he was delayed. With hundreds of representatives of student organisations from universities outside Beijing already present, the meeting had to go ahead. It was Wang Xing who chaired and led it and completed the work of expansion and reorganisation.
As a principal Secretariat member responsible for documentation and security, I personally participated in and witnessed the entire reorganisation. It was not without discord. At meetings to elect provincial standing committee members, two people, including Has, whom the Secretariat had assigned as meeting liaison officers, manipulated the elections among some university representatives to secure their own election to the standing committee. Two days later, they were even calling themselves commander-in-chief and deputy commander-in-chief. For several days, there was considerable discord within the organisation. This set the stage for Waigaolian’s consolidation meeting on 31 May.
Waigaolian’s Consolidation / The Decision to Withdraw / Handover Arrangements
The Waigaolian Consolidation Meeting of 31 May
I personally attended and witnessed Waigaolian’s consolidation meeting on 31 May and the process surrounding it.
The story begins with the expansion and reorganisation of 25 May. During elections for university representatives to the standing committee in certain provinces, some people manipulated the process to get themselves elected. Two days later, they were calling themselves commander-in-chief and deputy commander-in-chief. Suddenly, there were ‘two commanders-in-chief’ within the organisation, and for a couple of days relations were very strained.
With large military forces threatening from outside and a crisis of division within, Lian Shengde and Wang Xing decided to convene a Waigaolian consolidation meeting on 31 May. Wang Xing chaired the operation to rectify and consolidate the organisation in response to conduct that threatened to split it, restoring normal organisational management. I was there as a principal Secretariat member responsible for documentation and security, and witnessed the entire process.
Many people do not know this part of the history. Section Eight of The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement clearly explains what happened and why. This was an organisational rectification and consolidation of critical historical importance. It preserved the unity of the Autonomous Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing, which had just been reorganised as a nationwide body, and stabilised it for the struggle that continued over the following days.
1 June: Handover and Withdrawal
At around noon on 1 June 1989, Waigaolian decided and publicly announced that it would withdraw victoriously from Tiananmen Square and take the movement nationwide, promoting campus democracy and a national democracy movement. Regrettably, the withdrawal was not completed in full. Lian Shengde then resigned as Waigaolian chairman (commander-in-chief), and Vice-Chairman Wang Xing became acting chairman (acting commander-in-chief) while remaining secretary-general.
Most of us, including a number of those with responsibilities at headquarters, were present and witnessed this handover. Lian Shengde placed the burden on Wang Xing’s shoulders. As the Secretariat member responsible for documentation and security, I remained at Wang Xing’s side. At that moment we all knew that our days in the square were numbered, but the organisation still existed and the struggle had to continue.
Part Four: The 4 June Massacre, Hospital Investigations and Evidence Gathering (3–8 June), and Arrest
From the beginning of June, I stayed together with Lian Shengde, Wang Xing and several principal Secretariat members virtually without interruption, working as Waigaolian’s organisational core. During the day we went out together to distribute leaflets, coordinate assistance for fellow students and investigate and gather evidence at hospitals. At night we stayed together at Yang Yan’s home. We ate together, slept in the same place and went out together. Almost whatever Wang Xing did, I assisted him with. By then there was no longer any secretarial work as such: our small group constituted Waigaolian’s headquarters.
On 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7 June, we took part in resistance in Beijing and in hospital investigations and evidence gathering. During the day, we distributed leaflets in the streets to tell Beijing residents and compatriots from other provinces the truth about the 4 June massacre. We went to hospitals to visit injured students and citizens and gather evidence, recording proof of the suppression. We went there, we saw, and we made a record.
Here I must record something utterly true and deeply moving: the beloved people of Beijing, the city’s residents, saved our lives. Without them, we might have died in Tiananmen Square. Without their efforts to block military vehicles, shelter us and rescue the wounded, we could not have survived.
After thirty-seven years, I can no longer remember many specific details. What I cannot remember, I neither write nor invent. But I am certain that we were together during those days. Whatever the book records Wang Xing and the others doing then, I was beside them, never apart. This is my testimony. I speak only of the facts.
Arrest (8–9 June)
The four of us — Lian Shengde, Wang Xing, Liu Chuanbing and I — went to the Civil Aviation Institute of China in Tianjin, Lian Shengde’s university, on 8 June. We left Beijing that afternoon and arrived at the institute at around 10 p.m. At about 4 or 5 a.m. on 9 June, there was a knock at the door of our room in the university guesthouse, and the police arrested and detained me.
Some background is needed here. We had originally planned to go to southern China to continue the resistance. There was also a proposal, guided by people from the Hong Kong Alliance in Support of Patriotic Democratic Movements of China, for us to go to Hong Kong. But Lian Shengde’s father had arrived at the Civil Aviation Institute in Tianjin, and Lian decided to return to see him and make some preliminary arrangements. We changed our route to Tianjin at short notice and were arrested there. Wang Xing and a Secretariat member surnamed Liu were arrested with me; Lian Shengde was arrested at approximately the same time. We were held in the same detention centre, where Wang Xing, the fellow participant surnamed Liu and I shared a cell. On 15 June, we were put into a vehicle and transported to Beijing, where we were taken to Qincheng Prison.
Part Five: Qincheng Prison
Behind the high walls of Qincheng Prison, my Waigaolian colleagues Liu Zhiguo and Chen Peijun and I remained in the same cell, looking after and encouraging one another. I can confirm this list of people who were in Qincheng at the time: Wang Xing, Dong Xiang, Liu Songqiang, Wang Chenyang, Cao Siyuan, Duan Hongyin, Guo Haifeng, Chen Peijun, Liu Zhiguo and myself. I am certain that I was held in Cell No. 8. Among those there were Liu Zhiguo, Chen Peijun, Guo Haifeng, Dong Xiang, Liu Songqiang, Wang Chenyang, Cao Siyuan, Duan Hongyin and me. As for exactly who was in which of the other cells, I can no longer remember, cannot confirm, and cannot add anything; that will need to be cross-checked against the book and the accounts of fellow prisoners. I write only what I know for certain: in Qincheng, we were together.
In Qincheng Prison, Dong Xiang, a performer with an opera company in Beijing, often told us the dramatic details of how he had helped escort Wuer Kaixi out of Beijing after the 4 June massacre, as well as fascinating stories of life outside. He also helped us imagine a future under free skies. What I remember particularly vividly is that, through his instruction, everyone in our cell learned a ‘wall-tapping code’ that enabled secret communication with the cells on either side and those upstairs. This brought unexpected joy and immense encouragement during our years of torment in prison. Cao Siyuan taught tai chi to a small group of us, including Liu Songqiang, Chen Peijun, Liu Zhiguo and me. I borrowed Duan Hongyin’s book on political science. Dong Xiang found it dull, but I read and studied it all day long with great interest. Chen Peijun and I entertained ourselves, played the one-legged ‘cockfighting’ game and encouraged each other. Later, Cao Siyuan gave me a signed copy of Bankruptcy Law. Many years afterwards, when he died, I was deeply saddened and wrote a poem in remembrance and tribute.
Part Six: After Prison
In January 1990, I was released from Qincheng Prison, then detained for two more days by the Beijing Municipal Public Security Bureau before my second elder brother took me home. My time behind Qincheng’s walls had ended, but my suffering had not. For more than thirty years, because I had participated in the 1989 democracy movement, I was continually subjected to repression and mistreatment. I suffered both mentally and physically, and faced discrimination and suppression in every aspect of work, daily life and business.
The first blow was expulsion from the Communist Party. At the end of 1990, the government of Chengnan Township in my home area of Huai’an, Jiangsu, used a cinema as an assembly hall for a township-wide meeting attended by between 1,500 and 3,000 people. I was there. At the meeting I was publicly denounced for having ‘incorrect thinking’ and told that I needed to be reformed. In May or June 1991, while I was working in Guangdong, my family informed me that I had been expelled from the Party. To this day, I have never received any written decision. The only documentary evidence of the outcome is the annotation ‘Party member (expelled)’ on my demobilised serviceman’s registration form. My original registered home address was Group 8, Xinzhuang Village, Chengnan Township, Qingpu District, Qingjiang City, Jiangsu Province. Under the present administrative divisions, it is Group 17, Guancheng Village, Chengnan Township, Qingjiangpu District, Huai’an City, Jiangsu Province; following demolition and relocation, this became the current address.
After prison, I could not find work locally and had to leave to earn a living. In 1991, I worked as head of purchasing and logistics at the Yaligong Hotel in Humen Town, Dongguan, Guangdong. I received the lowest salary among the management staff and worked hard without complaint. Later, I went into business in Guangzhou and managed to establish a modest footing for a time. Those years were somewhat more relaxed, but the label of ‘1989 June Fourth participant’ never left me. Finding work, completing administrative procedures and arranging social insurance were all harder for me than for others.
In 1998, officers from state security in Guangzhou approached me and asked me to become an informant, gathering information about Lian Shengde, who was in the United States, and the Free China Movement. I refused. I did not betray my comrades or trade their trust for personal advancement. From then on, the pressure against me never ceased.
At the end of 2006, I began attending Christian house-church gatherings and continued for about seven months. The pastor was Korean. The local police later broke up the gatherings as ‘illegal assemblies’.
After Xi Jinping came to power, the repression intensified markedly and I again became a target. My businesses in Guangzhou were shut down, and the business licences of five companies were cancelled at once. Both Guangzhou and my home area rejected my efforts to make back payments into social insurance as a demobilised serviceman, citing my rural household registration. There were two struggles over demolition and relocation in my home area. In the first, in 2003, I participated remotely from Guangzhou and was not beaten. During the second, from late 2022 to early 2023, I was beaten and injured when I returned home to negotiate. In 2025, I applied to the Conghua Branch of the Guangzhou Municipal Public Security Bureau to hold a march and demonstration, but was refused. My repeated applications to the Baiyun District Branch did not even result in registration forms, and on 30 May I received another notice refusing approval.
Here I record only the main points, without recounting everything that happened over more than thirty years, because this sixth part is an account of the principal persecution I experienced after prison, rather than a full memoir.
The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement is where I found the answers again. My body has been damaged by the Chinese Communist Party’s organs of dictatorship. There are many details of that period in 1989 that I cannot remember, and what I cannot remember, I neither write nor invent. But the book sets them out clearly, and my memories returned: I was a member of the Secretariat responsible for ‘secretarial work and security’; from 3 June our small group remained together; we went to Tianjin on 8 June, were arrested in the early hours of 9 June, and were transported together to Qincheng on 15 June. Wang Xing has also personally confirmed these events, and my own voice can still be heard on the recordings. Only then did I feel able to write: this is no recollection conjured from nothing; it is testimony.
The 1989 democracy movement brought me more than suffering. It also became a lifelong process of moral growth and self-improvement. Back then, I went to Tiananmen Square to petition and demonstrate and to block the martial law troops because I was inspired by the university students’ patriotism, their struggle for democracy and their stand on behalf of the people. At the same time, I had personally suffered discrimination and injustice under the system and could not accept it. Only after more than thirty years of persecution did I understand that these were not merely my own grievances and suffering. Unless this dictatorial system changes, ordinary people and veterans alike cannot escape oppression and being left at the mercy of others. I did not bow or surrender because I was imprisoned, expelled from the Party, had my businesses closed or was beaten and injured. Nor did I betray my comrades when state security tried to recruit me. Today, on free soil, I have rejoined the ranks and set down this experience truthfully, to honour the students and citizens who fell, to repay the people of Beijing for saving our lives, and to remain true to my conscience. This is why I am writing my personal experience and testimony of the 1989 democracy movement, and it is the purpose towards which I will work for the rest of my life.
After 1989, Wang Xing, Lian Shengde and I effectively lost contact for more than thirty years. For many years, none of us knew where the others were. Around 2000, I learned through the internet that Lian Shengde had gone to the United States. Around 2010, I saw online information about Wang Xing’s participation in financial-industry conferences and went to Beijing to try to contact him. Unfortunately, he was away on business and we did not meet. Some years later, around 2019, I heard that he had again been persecuted and imprisoned by the Chinese Communist Party.
In early June 2026, while in mainland China, I used software to circumvent the internet firewall and saw news on overseas websites of the launch of Wang Xing’s new book, The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement, together with a symposium commemorating the movement’s thirty-seventh anniversary. On 17 June 2026, while in Guangzhou, I emailed the Waigaolian Alumni Association and Wang Xing. On 18 June, he replied, recognising me and addressing me as ‘Brother Zhengbao’. On 30 September 2026, after arriving in New York, I wrote to Lian Shengde through the Free China Movement’s public email address. On 1 October, he replied: ‘The 1989 we experienced together … old comrade … your comrade and fellow prisoner forever, Shengde.’
Conclusion
Thirty-seven years have passed. The young ‘Xiao Jia’ of the 1989 movement’s Secretariat has become a veteran rejoining the ranks in New York. History has not forgotten Waigaolian: Wang Xing’s history of 1989 bears witness for us. My own recollections and testimony bear witness for me, and attest to the history of 1989.
This is my personal experience of the 1989 democracy movement, my own testimony. I remember being together with my fellow participants. I remember that the citizens of Beijing saved our lives. I remember the students and citizens who fell, and those who pressed forward with courage. I dare not forget, and I must never forget.
There is one more thing to record. During the 1989 democracy movement, following the Headquarters’ instructions and requirements, Secretariat members used several tape recorders to record a large amount of material, including meetings. I was responsible for recording four meeting tapes, which were kept at the home of a fellow supporter of the movement in Beijing. In the early 1990s, after his release from prison, Lian Shengde retrieved them from our Beijing friend’s home and took them to the United States. The tapes contain not only the sounds of the meetings, but my own voice as well. They are evidence that I was personally there.
What our generation of 1989 seeks is a free and democratic China without dictatorship or persecution: vindication of the 1989 June Fourth movement and restoration of historical truth; an end to the Chinese Communist Party’s dictatorial rule and the establishment of constitutional democracy with separation of powers; freedom of the press and freedom of speech; a future for Taiwan determined by the people of Taiwan themselves; renewed freedom for Hong Kong; a move towards a federal system in China; an end to atrocities in Xinjiang and Tibet; and a country where ordinary people’s lives are no longer treated as worthless. This is why I have written these words, and it is the purpose towards which I will work for the rest of my life.
Finally, I want to thank the people of Beijing. You saved us during the events of June Fourth in 1989. You are our lifesavers; without you, we would not be here today. I also owe profound thanks to Lian Shengde and Wang Xing, who accepted responsibility in a moment of crisis, shouldered immense burdens, faced mortal danger and carried the struggle forward. I thank Wang Xing for turning this sweeping history — a history bound up with the destinies of hundreds of thousands, millions, perhaps even hundreds of millions of people — into a complete symphony of life: The Federation of Students from Universities Outside Beijing and China’s 1989 Democracy Movement. This important work bears enduring witness for our generation, for Waigaolian and for the 1989 democracy movement. What I can do is truthfully record the part I experienced, to honour them, to do justice to history and to remain true to my conscience. This is what, above all, I want to say as I write this account and testimony of the 1989 democracy movement.
Remember always, and carry forward the spirit of the 1989 democracy movement.