by Fang Fang
After those front-line hospitals first discovered that there was an outbreak, why couldn’t they just directly report it online?
Once the team of experts arrived in Wuhan, were they really unable to grasp the fact that this was a contagious virus, capable of being transmitted between people?
Once news of the outbreak leaked, were those government offices really placing a higher priority on dealing with the leaker than on the actual outbreak?
Does the fact that no one is willing to accept responsibility have something to do with the fact that Zhong Nanshan seems to be the only one with the authority to reveal the truth to the public?
As the Wuhan outbreak was getting increasingly serious, why couldn’t hospital administrators have taken early action to prevent the serious lack of medical supplies?
As both the virus and fear began to simultaneously spread, was a full lockdown really the best measure available?
After the quarantine was in place, was it really not possible to have some of the confirmed patients transferred to other hospitals with less-strained resources where they would have received better treatment?
Actually, I suspect that Professor Du had even more questions, because after his seventh question, he left a line of ellipses, which seems to indicate that he wasn’t finished with his line of questioning. Actually, for those of us here in Wuhan, we have even more questions we could raise. A shame, then, that all those questions, they remain unanswered.
Today is the 59th installment of my diary. I told quite a few people that I would stop at 60; tomorrow will be my last entry. There have been a lot of readers who have been staying up late every night to wait for my next installment to hit the internet; some of them have been so loyal that they complain they have messed up their biological clock. To them I want to say: Just one more day and, after tomorrow, you won’t need to wait up anymore. At the same time, I am so thankful that you have all been out there waiting for me.
One more thing I want to say today: This is my individual record written during the coronavirus outbreak; it represents one person’s memories. At first I didn’t even really look at this as a “diary.” That’s because I wasn’t the one who suggested using that term. It was only later that this record truly turned into a diary, one entry per day. When other people referred to it as a “diary” I didn’t object. My initial motivation was just to fulfill a publishing agreement. I thought writing daily essays would be an easy way to do that. I never expected that as I went further down this road, I would completely forget what brought me here to begin with.
March 24, 2020
I have already fought that beautiful battle.
Day 62 of the Wuhan quarantine. This is also the 60th installment in my diary; you could also refer to this as my final chapter.
Coincidentally, I saw a notice today announcing that the quarantine is now officially lifted for all districts outside Wuhan; as long as you scan your health QR code, you can now freely move about. For the city of Wuhan, the quarantine will be lifted on April 8th. Wuhan will be coming back to life again quite soon. I initially said that I would continue writing until the city reopens and only stop then. It was only later that I realized that opening the city back up doesn’t happen all at once, like when the lockdown was imposed as an emergency action. It is going to be a slow and gradual process, with each district opening one at a time. It is for that reason that I think it is perfectly suitable to bring this diary to a close, now that the virus is slowing down and people are beginning to get back to work. I shared my thoughts on this with some friends and almost all of them supported my decision. And so after completing 54 installments, I decided to extend it up to 60 entries. After going through this entire process, I never imagined that the final chapter would be published just as they announced when they would reopen the city; this is something worth commemorating. That means that this record traces the outbreak from Day 1 of the Lunar New Year all the way up until the announcement lifting the quarantine order; so the record is quite complete. On March 14 my eldest brother did some calculations based on the number of confirmed cases and how those numbers decreased over time; based on his numbers, he thought that Wuhan would be able to reopen by April 8. I never imagined that he would get it right on the nose. He was also quite ecstatic: “My rough model really was able to predict the exact day Wuhan would lift the quarantine.”
The sky was really bright this afternoon, but later in the afternoon it turned overcast and even sprinkled a bit. My housekeeper texted me to tell me that she would be probably be here tomorrow. Deep down I heaved sigh of relief. My housekeeper is a pretty good cook; my colleagues used to always come by and end up inviting themselves to stay for dinner. I’m sure once we are allowed to move around freely again they will start coming back again to crash our dinners. My difficult days are now almost behind me.
As for Miss Liang, that nurse from Guangxi, I should say a few additional words of explanation. Last night as I was writing my diary, I received a text from a doctor friend, which his friend had forwarded to him. It was a photo with a caption reading: “That nurse from Guangxi who fainted in our hospital has left us. She was also mother to a little girl; she was only 28 years old. Those people who went against the grain to come to Wuhan to help when everyone else was fleeing have really given their lives for this city.” My doctor friend was extremely moved, and I was also quite devastated. Before this, a lot of media outlets had covered the story of this nurse’s being saved. In order to confirm that this new development was accurate, I forwarded the picture to a big-shot doctor from Wuhan Union Hospital and asked him if he could verify the story. He responded with a short text: “Brain dead. A real tragedy.” I guess my level of medical knowledge is really pathetic; I took that as a confirmation that she had indeed passed away. I didn’t want Miss Liang to just quietly disappear without any acknowledgment; I felt I should write something so we would always remember her. And that is how that passage ended up in my diary. Today a lot of people raised suspicions about that news; others went on to refute it as a rumor. This afternoon I decided to get back in touch with those two doctors to see what I could verify. Both of them provided me with very detailed and technical explanations; they both had basically the same stance on the issue, and they suggested that I had better apologize. I agreed. And so, I would here like to offer my sincere apologies to my readers. More important, I would like to apologize to Miss Liang’s family. This also shows how much all of us care about Miss Liang. As that text message said, she was one of the people who sacrificed so much for this city. I sincerely hope that one day she will wake up; my doctor friends and I will be closely following her condition. And thanks, everyone, for keeping me in check.
Yesterday a friend of mine sent me an article; he said that someone was calling on me to “participate in a joint signing event with the citizens of Wuhan to prove you are not a running dog for the Americans.” When I saw that title I felt it was so disgusting and juvenile that I really didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I won’t mention the name of the author here, but I’m told he has a doctorate; I wonder what kind of books he read to get that degree! I was a bit curious if he had also done his undergraduate studies at Peking University, or did he even have an undergraduate degree? Normally speaking, people with even a basic undergraduate education would never stoop so low. Before I even had time to read his essay, someone else told me that someone from the government had already sought the author out to have a talk with him about the essay and asked him to cease this type of behavior. My friend laughed: “Now you’re never going to get the chance to make your case.” In reality, I still don’t fully understand what even happened.
What is really getting interesting is that now politicians from both China and America are going after each other; both sides are really digging into each other with all kinds of nasty speech, while, at the same time, doctors from China and America are joining forces to discuss the best methods for saving patients’ lives. The doctors have been discus
sing which medications are most effective in lowering death rates and which treatment methods have been proven most effective. They are also discussing protective measures, proper quarantine procedures, and other related topics. When the Wuhan outbreak was at its most critical stage, overseas Chinese purchased any and all medical supplies they could get off the shelves and sent them all to China as donations; now American doctors are facing a shortage of face masks and other personal protective equipment. One overseas Chinese friend told me how sorry she feels about the whole thing. Meanwhile, these doctors are actively discussing how to solve this problem. None of these doctors seem to be politically biased; there is no sense of national identity that comes into play during their discussions; they just share their experiences and share whatever leads they have on the coronavirus. From this you can sense a core goodness and a higher sense of what love is from these doctors; this is a love for humanity, a love for individual human beings. I figure that with every different profession there is indeed a different perspective and a completely different way of looking at things. Personally, I prefer the professional spirit and state of mind of these doctors.
Just because this is my last installment, that doesn’t mean that I will stop writing. Weibo will continue to be my platform, and I will continue to express my views on Weibo, just like before. I will also not give up on making sure that those who need to be held accountable take blame for what they have done. A lot of people have left messages on my Weibo account saying that the government will never hold these people accountable; that there is no hope. I have no way of knowing if officials in the government will ever pursue this. But regardless of what actions the government takes, as a Wuhan citizen who has been quarantined here for two months, as someone who has personally experienced and witnessed this tragedy that befell Wuhan, we have a responsibility and a duty to seek justice for those wronged souls. Whoever made mistakes and whoever is responsible, those are the people who should carry this burden. If we abandon the search for justice, if we forget what has happened here during these days, if we one day can no longer even remember Chang Kai’s final words, then, my fellow Wuhan people, you will be carrying a much heavier burden than this disaster; you will also be carrying the burden of shame. And the burden of forgetting! If someone wants to one day nonchalantly wipe all this away, I’m afraid that will be an impossibility. Even if I have to etch it out one character at a time, I will carve their names on history’s pillar of shame.
I would like to give special thanks to those ultra-leftists who attack me every day. If not for their egging me on, a lazy person like me would have probably stopped writing a long time ago; at the very least I would have lacked the perseverance to write nearly as much as I ended up doing. Without them, how many people would have even read this record I have presented through my entries? What I’m especially happy about is the fact that their attacks have gotten everyone to pay attention. They have summoned together all their teams and every one of them has been writing essays. But what have readers seen through their essays? They have seen those ultra-leftists’ mixed-up logic, deformed thoughts, twisted perspectives, crude writing, and low moral character. In short, all that their consistent attacks reveal are their own shortcomings; every day they put their disgusting values on display for all to see. And now everyone has finally woken up to see what these Big V ultra-leftists are really made of. 25
That’s right, that’s who they really are; they are all at the level of that supposed “high school student” who wrote a letter to me; actually, that is about as good as they get. Actually, a while back there was already someone who offered a very accurate summary of who these ultra-leftists are; you should still be able to find the essay online. Vile and lowly as they may be, for the past several years now these ultra-leftists have been gradually spreading throughout our society, just like the coronavirus. They are especially active around those government officials, always at their beck and call, which makes many officials particularly susceptible to infection. In the end, they come to shield these ultra-leftists, helping them get stronger and stronger. They expand to the point that their structure resembles a massive underworld operation; they have taken over the internet, which puts up with their howls and storms as they humiliate and insult anyone who goes against them. It is precisely because of this that I need to say it again and again: The presence of these ultra-leftists represents an existential threat to China and her people! They are the greatest hindrance to the Reform Era! If we allow the ultra-leftists to throw their weight around as they wish and spread their disease throughout our society, the reforms will die, and China’s future will be doomed.
Finally, this being my final chapter, I need to say a few words of thanks. Thanks to all my readers for their support and encouragement. Their endless posts and essays have deeply moved me and led me to realize: Wow, there are so many people out there who see things the same way as I do. I always thought I was standing alone against an empty backdrop, while in fact there are tall mountains behind me, supporting me. I need to express my appreciation for Er Xiang; she was the one who provided enormous help when my Weibo account was blocked. Without her, I’m afraid I would never have been able to continue this diary. I also would like to thank Caixin and Headlines Today; they always provided platforms for me to publish my essays when I had nowhere else to go. From another perspective, all this help has given me an untold reservoir of psychological comfort. With them beside me throughout these days, I have never felt alone.
I have already fought that beautiful battle;
I have already completed my course;
And I have stood by every truth I believe in.
This Place Called Wuhan
This place called Wuhan has always been referred to by people as “River Town.” The reason for that naturally has to do with the fact that the city is located on the banks of the Yangtze River. Actually, “River Town” isn’t at all a bad name for Wuhan. It is the provincial capital of the Hubei Province, sometimes referred to as the “province of a thousand lakes,” because there are at least 100 bodies of water surrounding it. These lakes are like beautiful pearls and jade ornaments adorning the body of Wuhan; when the wind blows, you might even hear the sound of them clinking in the wind. Those old-timers who have lived here long enough can hear it—it is the sound of the billowing river and the ripples on the lakes responding to the wind whipping by.
If you go back to an earlier time, Wuhan was once part of the Kingdom of Chu, which is why Wuhan residents like to refer to this place where they live as “the Land of Chu.” People in Wuhan really worship the Chu. That is because the people of Chu were known for their military spirit; they had an unbridled romanticism and a strong will, which are both qualities that Wuhan natives appreciate. Of course, this could also be because people from Wuhan already have Chu genes inside them, which is why they are so proud to be Chu.
Ever since the concept of “big city” came around, Wuhan has always been one of China’s best-known cities. I thought about it, and I think Wuhan is just behind the big-six cities of Beijing, Nanjing, Xi’an, Shanghai, Tianjin, and Guangzhou. The first three of those cities all have deep cultural roots because they are former capitals; the latter three have more developed economies, thanks to their locations along the coast. Wuhan never served as the capital of China and it is not on the ocean; it is a city on the water, right in the middle of the Yangtze River. The inland province of Hubei where it is located is different from virtually any other province that is located in the frontier region, which makes it only natural to be ranked below those other six cities.
However, amid this vast nation of China, the fact that Wuhan can maintain its position as the “central land” isn’t bad at all. Wuhan’s corridors and streets are like rays emanating out and shining down into every corner of this nation. If you were to draw them across the map of China, they would look like the rays of sunlight shooting out in all directions. And Wuhan represents the sun on that map.
Its being
located in the heart of China means that transportation in and out of Wuhan is extremely convenient. No matter where you go, it never feels that far; after all, there isn’t a huge difference between locations near and far in terms of distance. That has become especially true these past few years as more high-speed rail lines and highways have opened up. No matter where you go, you can reach most major cities in China from Wuhan in around four hours by train. It is even more convenient for Wuhan residents with cars to do short road trips; there are even a lot of places you can go on a daytrip. This is something that a lot of Wuhan people are quite proud of. Owing to its central location, Wuhan is also referred to as the “gateway to nine provinces.”
There was a time when people referred to Wuhan (specifically to its Hankou district) as “the Chicago of the East.” That’s because the pace of Wuhan’s development was quite similar to that of Chicago, although that nickname seems to have gradually disappeared over time. These days there are still some people who would very much like to revisit the dream of their city’s being “the Chicago of the East,” but after referring to it like that a few times, there wasn’t much of a reaction so they all stopped calling it that. I’ve never been to Chicago, so I can’t really say where the similarities and differences actually lie.
If Wuhan is a pearl, then the Yangtze River is the necklace that runs through the pearl, as it goes directly through the heart of the city. The largest tributary of the Yangtze, the Han River, cuts through the downtown district of Wuhan where it meets with the Yangtze near the foot of Tortoise Mountain. Those two rivers divide Wuhan up into three towns: Hankou, Wuchang, and Hanyang. All three of these areas are built on the banks of these rivers, and they are designed to twist and curve alongside the flowing water. That’s why most people in Wuhan have such a poor sense of direction. Whenever someone asks for directions elsewhere, most people from Wuhan will respond with phrases like “go up there” or “down there,” or they’ll say things like “walk down that way” or “take that path up.” When they say to “go up,” they are referring to the upstream direction of the Yangtze; when they say, “go down,” they mean to follow the downstream flow of the river. From that detail alone one can tell that the impact of living on the water is something that is deep in the bones of every resident of Wuhan; even when someone haphazardly points somewhere, you can still sense the presence of the flowing river.