向下滑動以查看中文版本
I got rid of the paywall
Since I introduced myself in Notes last week, I’ve gained almost 800 subscribers, mostly from the US. This is interesting and unexpected. I appreciate you for giving me the chance to pop up in your inbox weekly. Some of you sent me words of support and encouragement; they were so beautiful they made me happy-cry a little.
It doesn’t sit right with me to keep words behind a paywall, so I decided to release the paywalled issue from last week in this post. If you’ve already read issue 4, here’s a link to this week’s issue 5.
It’s not business-savvy of me to get rid of the paywall, but I’d like to do it because, as a reader, I hate paywalls and am a big believer in equality of access to information. To make up for the bad business strategy, I encourage those who can to opt for the paid tier. This economy sucks though, so no pressure, really.
Another important thing to note: I’ll add a clause in my legal documents saying that if I die, become imprisoned, or disappear, a friend of mine will refund annual subscribers for the time period when I can’t write. I know few of you would care, and I don’t think I'll die or disappear anytime soon. Still, just so you know, there is a refund policy in place.
You can find the un-paywalled Issue 4 below the block of Chinese texts. Click here to go to Issue 5.
我取消了付費牆
上禮拜六我在Notes中自我介紹以後,有800多位新讀者訂閱我的頻道,其中多數來自美國。我覺得很意外耶!很感激你們給我機會每週出現在你們的收件箱中。也有訂閱者傳來支持和鼓勵的話語,我讀一讀又哭起來⋯⋯最近真的有點愛哭。
我怎麼想都覺得把文字放在付費牆後不妥,因此我決定在這篇文章中公開上週的付費內容。如果你已經讀過第4期,點擊這裡閱讀本週的第5期。
取消付費牆可能不是一個明智的商業決策,但我這麼做是因為:作為讀者,我很討厭付費牆;並且深信資訊應該平等可及。為了彌補這一個商業策略上的不足,我想鼓勵有能力的人選擇付費。但我知道現在全世界很多地方經濟都在下滑,所以請不要覺得有一定要訂閱的壓力。
還有一件事:我會在法律文件中加上一項條款,如果我去世、被囚禁或失蹤,我的朋友將會退還年訂閱者在我無法寫作期間的費用。我知道你們大多數人可能不會太在意,我也不認為我會很快去世或消失。不過,我想讓大家知道我有制定退款政策。
以下是之前在付費牆後的第4期,請下滑閱讀中文版本。
點擊這裡閱讀第5期。
English version of Issue 4 starts here:
As a persecuted, nomadic journalist, I rarely meet people who share similar experiences or depths of suffering. Yet, here is someone who seems to understand. He says he’ll have my back. We should be together. Maybe we already are.
This non-fiction story is part of a series documenting my ongoing (mis)adventures. You can find previous installments on my Substack homepage. To receive weekly updates in your inbox, consider subscribing.
Cover photo: Me at a Taipei MRT station on June 6, 2024, by Lee Tsung-han, RFA.
Content warning: This work contains explicit language, as well as references to sex, animal abuse and substance use.
Not a big reader? I got you. Listen to an audio version of this chapter here:
Kai*: I was caught at the [location redacted] airport with a few pills of [drug name redacted]. It was for my own use, to help me sleep. The custom officials said the pills were illegal, and they’d throw me into jail. We rallied help, bribed people. In the end I still got [time period withheld]. In the prison there they didn’t treat me like a human being. And the Taiwanese government… they were powerless, useless. The official who ended up looking after my welfare was from the Chinese consulate. I can relate to your pain, really.
Me: I don’t have pain about being betrayed by a nation. When I first left China, and discovered what the Chinese government is capable of doing to its own people, I was confused and furious. So I went to university and studied political science – that helped me process the hurt.
When was that?
2015.
I was at university that year too.
Where?
The University of Society.
Haha. Anyway, for my studies, I read theories from this guy called Benedict Anderson. He argues that nations are mere "imagined communities." In a real community, we'd know most of the members personally. For example, our gym is a real community, so when you compete, it makes sense for me to cheer for you and be concerned about your win or loss. A nation on the other hand, no matter how small, is not a real community. What its members share, at best, are symbols, narratives, and institutions, but nothing concrete. At the Olympics, I have no personal connection to the Chinese athlete representing China or the Australian athlete competing for Australia, yet according to nationalist ideas, I’m supposed to root for them. That doesn’t make sense. Once I understood that, I stopped feeling betrayed. How can someone who’s never been in a real relationship with you betray you?
Kai* thought about this, and said: But I feel in my bones that my mission on earth is to be a warrior, and protect my tribe. I think that’s my predestined role.
I think that just means you’re a good person and you want the best for the people you care about. I’m the same, only that I don’t have a good body like you do. All I have is this brain and this mouth, and my pen. Those are my weapons. At first I tried to use them to protect my tribe, the Han Chinese people. Then I realized that my tribe can be perpetrators too, and victimize other tribes. So I started trying to protect other tribes, which supposedly counts as treason.
*
Me: I like your tattoo.
Him: It was from a long time ago, when I first joined the gang. It was kind of mandatory, and hurt a lot.
*
I’m going to drop the accent now, Kai*.
What do you mean?
I speak with an artificial accent all the time.
Why?
I don’t know. I just do. Ten, no, eleven years ago when I first went to university, I was training to become a Chinese government newsreader. They taught me to, no, they made me speak English like an American. I was behind in my class and always made the teacher sigh. To this day whenever I notice myself slipping and making inaccurate sounds in English I’d hear the teacher’s sigh again in my head. And now in Taiwan, I’ve been hiding my mainland Chinese accent to avoid discrimination or questions. It seems like my fate to be a chameleon. I can’t really complain because I chose to adopt these new accents, which have made my life easier overall. What I'm getting at is – I rarely feel relaxed enough to remove the makeup on my speech. Now I do.
Your life is so exhausting, Kai* said in an exaggerated mainland accent. It made me laugh.
Don’t try to imitate manlanders.
What? I didn’t. I have lots of mainland friends. The accent rubs off.
In my first month in Taiwan, I got a massage from a therapist who had a distinct mainland accent. It was the most stressful massage I’ve ever had. I kept thinking – what if she was a Chinese spy? Or a Chinese nationalist who’d press a specific pressure point on me and kill me in a surge of patriotism, if she found out who I am? She was trying to engage in small talk and guess my background. Are you from Hong Kong? Or Singapore? She asked. I gave non-answers. She said that I had good skin, a toned body, and exuded a wealthy, cultured aura. She said that I was clearly raised with money.
Beat.
But Kai*, I grew up in the poorest province in China. My parents borrowed money for my education.
*
Me: I have a lunch meeting at 11am. Do you want to come with me?
Him: No. Are you sure you can go to a meeting like this?
Like what?
Being high.
I’m not high.
How is that possible?
I specialize in impossible things.
I want to sleep.
So sleep.
I can’t.
Close your eyes.
He closed his eyes.
Me: I like Taipei, but not enough to stay here forever.
Him: I don’t like cities. I wish I could live in the jungle, and be a wild animal, running around naked all day.
I thought that was precisely why I liked him. Every time he burped long and hard at the gym my affection deepened half a percent.
It started raining outside, so the children dispersed.
Me: There’s too much rain in Taipei.
Uh huh.
Do you like rain, Kai*?
I don’t like or dislike it. I’d really like to sleep.
Ok, sleep. I’ll go pack. I slid off the bed. He caught me by the wrist and dragged me back.
Lunch was with two Taiwanese journalists, Yenting and Chin. Yenting interviewed me for a European NGO years ago. We stayed in touch and became friends. When I first arrived in Taipei he suggested that I make an announcement in Taiwanese media. I declined on the grounds of privacy needs, and rampant transnational repression campaigns in Taiwan carried out by local gangs contracted by the Chinese Communist Party. Throughout my year in Taiwan, Yenting was my emergency contact. When I decided to leave I told him I was ready to speak to the local press. He introduced me to Chin, who interviewed me over three sittings and wrote a sprawling, five-thousand word dissertation. It was set to be published in two days.
After lunch I walked with the two journalists to a cafe in the temporary lull between rain showers. We stopped at the convenience store outside my hotel for cigarettes, and there he was – Kai*. I slipped into his arms. He told me he’d left a surprise in my room.
Kai* joined us at the cafe for conversations about China, Taiwan, journalism, and everything in between. Kai* asked if I wanted to take a cigarette break.
I don’t like journalists, he said, blowing a smoke ring. We were standing under a roof, watching the rain.
Me: I know what you mean. Sometimes I don’t like journalists either, certain journalists anyway. I’m a journalist too, though.
Him: Their eyes light up at the mention of anything remotely scandalous, it pisses me off. So I made sure to give them my scary stare and made them back away.
Him: Throughout my time in the gang I’ve mostly been a bodyguard. So I’m used to scanning my surroundings, and scaring people away. I can watch your back.
Me: That’s reassuring, thank you.
I have to go and collect a debt now. I’ll see you later.
Okay.
I said goodbye to Yenting and cried once more. He was heading to the Netherlands, and we didn’t know when we’d see each other again. I ran home through pouring rain – the drama seemed fitting. Tension lingered at the security guards' office. I rode the lift up and opened my door. The room was immaculate. The blanket had crisp corners. Clothes draped over chairs were folded and organized into a neat pile. Pens were in their holder, and books in stacks. Furniture was moved from the corner and arranged in more aesthetically pleasing spots. My knife had been re-sharpened. I cried and when my breathing settled I called Kai* to say thank you. He said he’ll be back in a couple hours.
We spent another night together. In the morning I snuck out to work in a cafe. After lunch we practiced wrestling at a park near my hotel. We took turns trying to sweep one another. One of my hands gripped the back of his neck, and the other held his bicep. We must have looked like a couple learning how to dance. Back to my hotel room we stretched and rolled on the floor, and had sex. He told stories about being abandoned by family as a teenager, and made to shoot puppies when he first joined the gang, to “exercise courage”. He played me a song that he used to listen to on repeat in prison. A sweet female voice serenading trees and birds and flowers.
Stay tuned for more next week.
If you’d like to receive the next weekly installment directly in your inbox, consider becoming a subscriber.
Posts here are non-fiction and adhere to journalistic standards. A note on formatting: pseudonyms are marked with an asterisk* at each instance, quotes recalled are not placed inside quotation marks, and sensitive information will be redacted to ensure the safety of myself and others.
第四期中文版本在這裡:
被跨境鎮壓,被眾叛親離——我這一生稱得上顛沛流離,苦難重重。現在居然有一個人說他明白我的痛苦,還想確保我的安全。我要不要和他在一起?我們是不是已經在一起了?
這篇非虛構寫作是我奇怪人生連載的章節之一。如果還沒讀過之前的章節,可以到我的Substack主頁查閱。如果想要第一時間收到更新,請考慮訂閱。
封面照片:2024年6月6日,我在台北某捷運站,攝影:李宗翰,RFA。
內容警示:本作品包含露骨語言,也提及了性、對動物的虐待,以及藥物濫用。
不喜歡閱讀?沒關係。你也可以在這裡聽這篇文章的有聲版:
凱*:之前在[地點隱去]機場,我帶了幾片[藥品名稱隱去]被查出來。真的只有幾片而已,我自己睡覺吃的。海關說這個藥違法,他們要把我關起來。我們找很多人幫忙,也賄賂了那邊的官員,最後還是被關了[具體時間隱去]。在那邊的監獄,他們真的沒有把我當人對待。我們臺灣政府⋯⋯真是太軟弱了。來看我、問我好不好的官員居然來自中國領事館。我明白你的痛苦,真的。
我:我沒有被國家背叛的痛苦哇。我剛離開中國,剛了解到中國政府能對百姓做出什麼樣的事情的時候,我有感到困惑和憤怒。所以我大學修政治系,讀書學習幫我化解了痛苦。
那是哪年的事情?
2015。
那年我也在上大學。
在哪裡上?
社會大學。
哈哈。我那時讀到了Benedict Anderson的理論。他認為國家只是「想像中的共同體」。在真正的共同體裡面,大部分成員都相互認識。舉例來說,道館就是一個真正的共同體,所以當你參加比賽時,我會關心你的勝負,為你加油。但是一個國家,無論多小,都不是一個真正的共同體。它的成員所共享的,充其量也只是一些符號、敘事和制度。個人之間大多並沒有實際的聯繫。在奧運會上,我和代表中國的運動員、或者代表澳洲的運動員沒有任何個人聯繫,但根據民族主義的觀念,我應該支持他們。這是沒有道理的。我明白之後,就不再感覺被背叛了。我和國家這個想像中的共同體從來沒有過真的關係,那我為什麼要覺得自己被國家背叛,又為什麼要難過呢?
凱*想了想,說:但我覺得我來這個世界的使命就是做一名武士,保護我的部落。我覺得這是我命中注定的角色。
我:我覺得這可能是因為你是個好人,想要保護你愛的人和你的朋友吧。我也有這種使命感,只是我的身體不像你那麼強壯。我的武器是我的大腦、這張嘴,還有寫字的筆。從前我試著用它們來保護我的部落,也就是其他中國人,或者漢族人。但之後我意識到,我的部落也會扮演施暴者的角色,對其他部落造成傷害,所以我開始試著保護其他部落。就因為這樣,我被指控叛國。
*
我:我喜歡你的刺青。
他:很久以前刺的了,那時候剛剛加入幫派,算是一定要刺吧。很痛。
*
我:凱*,我要開始用我本來的口音講話了。
什麼意思?
我平時的口音都是假的啊。
為什麼?
我也不知道,就是變成這樣子。十年前⋯⋯不對,十一年前,我第一次上大學的時候,是在北京受播音員訓練。他們教我⋯⋯也不算教吧,他們硬是把我們的口音矯正成美式發音。我當時的口音在班上算是落後,老師聽我讀材料總是嘆氣。直到今天,每當我發現自己講英文時發音不準確,腦中就會聽到老師的嘆息。現在在台灣講國語,我又要盡量掩飾大陸口音,以免遭到歧視或讓別人對我的身份背景產生好奇。我的命運好像就是做一隻變色龍。我也沒有什麼抱怨的資格。不論美國口音還是台灣口音,說到底都是我的選擇,也給我的生活帶來很多便利。我想表達的是,我很少會放鬆到流露出我原本的口音。現在我覺得很放鬆,所以你現在要聽到我本來的講話方式了。
你活得好累啊,凱*用誇張的大陸口音說。我笑起來。
幹嘛?不要模仿大陸人講話。
我沒有啊。我有很多大陸朋友,跟他們相處時間長了,講話就會開始捲舌。
我來台灣的第一個月,按摩的時候碰到了一位大陸口音的按摩師。按摩本來是應該教人放鬆的,但那次是我經歷過最緊張的一次。我忍不住想,萬一這按摩師是大陸來的間諜怎麼辦?或者是極端民族主義者?如果她知道我的身分,愛國熱情上頭,會不會按我身上的某個穴位直接把我殺掉?她當時一邊幫我按摩,一邊跟我閒聊,猜測我的背景。妳是香港人嗎?她問我,還是新加坡人呢?
我模糊其詞,沒有回答。她稱讚我,說我皮膚很好,肌肉緊實,一看就讀過很多書,是被有錢人家富養出來的女兒。
我停了一拍。
但凱*,我是在甘肅長大的,那是中國最窮的省份。我父母借錢給我唸書、學小提琴。
*
我:我上午11點有個午餐會議。你要一起去吃點東西嗎?
他:不要。但妳這樣子能去開會嗎?
我怎樣?
嗨的狀態啊。
我沒嗨啊。
怎麼可能?
我只做不可能的事情。
我想睡覺。
睡啊。
睡不著。
眼睛閉起來就睡著了。
他閉上眼睛。
我:我很喜歡臺北,但又沒喜歡到要在這裡永遠住下去。
他:我不喜歡城市。我希望能住在叢林裡,像野獸一樣整天不穿衣服跑來跑去。
我覺得這正是我喜歡他的原因。每次他在健身房裡大聲打出長長的嗝,我對他的喜愛就會又增加百分之一。
外面開始下雨,孩子們離開了泳池。
我:臺北的雨太多了。
嗯哼。
你喜歡雨嗎,凱*?
不喜歡也不討厭。我真的很想睡覺。
那你睡啊,我去收拾行李。我一邊說一邊試圖從床邊滑下去(兩張床叠起來很高)。他抓住我的手腕,把我拉回床上。
午餐是和兩位台灣記者,彥廷和虹瑾一起。幾年前,彥廷曾為一個歐洲NGO採訪我。後來我們保持聯繫,成為了朋友。我剛到臺北時,他問我要不要接受臺灣媒體訪問。我說不要,因為我想以普通人的身分在臺灣保有生活的隱私,加上我讀過很多關於中共透過臺灣幫派進行跨國鎮壓的報導,很擔心會被襲擊。在臺生活的一年裡,彥廷一直是我的緊急聯絡人。當我決定離開時,我告訴他我可以接受當地媒體的採訪了,他便介紹我認識了虹瑾。虹瑾採訪了我三次,洋洋灑灑寫了一篇五千多字的專訪。這篇文章訂於兩天後發表。
午餐後,我和兩位記者在雨停的短暫間隙中走去一家咖啡館。經過我飯店附近的便利商店時,我正準備進去買菸,突然看到凱*。我們像是久別重逢的戀人一樣擁抱。他說他在房間裡留給我一個驚喜。
凱*和我們一起去咖啡店,邊吃三明治邊聽我們討論中國、台灣,和新聞業的八卦。聊著聊著,凱*問我要不要抽根菸。
我們站在屋簷下看雨。我不喜歡記者,他吐著煙圈說。
我:有時候我也不喜歡記者,一些記者。但我也是記者啊。
他:只要和記者提到任何稍微敏感的事情,他們的眼睛就會發亮!這讓我超生氣。所以我剛都狠狠地看著他們,叫他們收斂。
他:我在幫派裡大部分時間是做保鏢,所以我很習慣隨時觀察周圍的環境,看看有沒有可疑的人或事。我可以確保妳的安全。
我:你這樣講讓我很安心,謝謝你。
我現在要去收一筆債,待會見。
好。
彥廷馬上要去荷蘭了,我們不知道什麼時候才能再見。我哭著和他告別,然後在滂沱大雨中跑回家——這大雨下得也算應景。路過保安室時,氣氛好似依然緊張。我搭電梯上樓,打開房門。我的房間一塵不染,床被鋪好,被單邊角方方正正。之前掛在椅背上的衣物被疊成整齊的一落。散在桌子上的筆被收進筆筒裡面,書被整理成堆。家具被移出角落,重新擺放在更美觀的位置。床頭的刀也被重新磨利了。我又哭了起來。呼吸平靜下來後,我打電話給凱*和他說謝謝。他說他過兩小時就回來。
我們又共度了一晚。早上為了不吵到他睡覺,我躡手躡腳出門去咖啡館工作。午餐後,我們在我飯店附近的公園練摔角,輪流試圖把對方掃倒。我一隻手抓他後頸,另一隻手控制他的二頭肌。旁人大概會以為我們是一對在學跳舞的情侶。然後我們回去飯店,拉筋、對練,做愛。凱*跟我講他小時候的事情。比如被家人拋棄,比如剛加入幫派時被迫射殺小狗以「鍛煉勇氣」。他跟我分享他在監獄裡反覆聽的歌曲,由一個甜甜的女聲演唱,歌詞裡充滿了樹木、鳥兒和花朵這些美好的意象
未完待續,下週見。
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I recently removed my paywall, too. Exclusive access to my writing did not sit well. I discovered your Substack recently and LOVE it. I’m not in a place to upgrade to paid (yet), but soon as I can, I will, and I’ll also buy your memoir when it comes out and promote on my book blog insta and website.
Please, keep writing 🙏🏼 and sharing your story.
First, the story. Very entertaining! I enjoyed it and look forward to subsequent chapters! Good writing.
Regarding getting rid of the paywall: I think that's a delightful move - I hate those things, but I don't knock people who use them. Or, maybe I do. But the first thoughts that came to mind when I read that you'd eliminated yours were about honesty, integrity, generosity, and such. So obviously I approve. Really enjoyable writing......