有一年，也是六月。我在美國的三大媒體公司之一做事。那是一個多事之春。從年初開始，就是前中共領導人的去世，然後又是前蘇聯領袖戈爾巴喬夫訪華……到了六月初的一天夜晚，多事之春終於被劃上了一個巨大的驚嘆號，和一個更大的問號。
我那時還是中國公民，第二天早上，便忙不迭地去找到我的老闆：是非之地，呆不下去了，我要辭職，腳板抹油，走人。
不曾想，老闆也正在找我。他說，在北京飯店裡，有一個我們的澳洲攝像師和他的英籍錄音助理，剛剛拍下一些很重要的材料。老闆說，要我自己親自去取，而不是派在我手下幫忙的20來個廣播學院的實習生去。這對我來說，可就進退兩難了。本來我是來辭職的，現在卻被派了任務，而且顯然是挺重要的任務：到這一天以前，我從來沒有過任何一次，需要自己去什麼地方送取什麼東西的。
我那時年輕，腦袋容易發熱。這家公司對我很是不薄，80年代的中國，一天能付200美元，還是現鈔。我想來想去，覺得不好在這個時候給人家掉鏈子，於是就答應了。但是，剛剛答應之後，就後悔了。因為老闆說，「外面據說還算安全。」可我從他的語氣中，能聽出來他的這句話，還不如不說。外面顯然不是那麼安全。
我從我們辦公的王府飯店，步行到了北京飯店。上午10點多鐘，但街上很少有行人。偶爾能聽到，有清脆的鞭炮般的聲音，從各處傳來。在長街的轉角處，我看到一些北京市民，捶胸頓足，低聲怒罵。一個老者，被幾個年輕人兩邊架著，疾步向協和醫院奔去。據說他的嘴被槍彈從一邊打入，又從另一邊穿出。老者低著頭，身體向前傾著，顯然是萬分痛苦。
到了北京飯店大門口，只見一排很多個玻璃門都關著，只留了中間的一個，半開半掩，將將能容一個人側身穿過進去。門邊上，從裡到外站了至少有一打身穿便服的，在那裡執行公幹的人。
我硬著頭皮，向他們走去。
我的背包裡，放著一盤剛剛啟封的，全新的錄像帶，是為了換下我要取的那一盤有了素材的帶子的。我面對這些執行公幹的同胞們，心裏盡量坦然地安慰自己說，我身上什麼都沒有，這帶子上更是什麼都沒有。
一邊想著，一邊我已經與他們擦身而過，走到了大廳裡。我只覺得，身後有很多眼睛在盯著我。但是，直到我走進電梯，看著電梯關了門，始終沒有人喊我停下。
到了14樓，我找到了我們的攝像組的房間，上前敲門。只聽裡面一陣悉悉索索，半天才開門。卻原來兩個老外以為是來抓他們的，先把攝像機從涼台上撤下來，藏到了床底下，然後還換上了睡衣，看上去儼然一對同志哥的樣子，甚是可笑。見到是我，他們認識，鬆了一口氣，立刻又把攝像機架回涼臺，一邊，攝像師把我帶去的錄像帶裝進機器，一邊，錄音師把我來取的那盤錄像帶交在了我的手上。
我乘電梯下樓，走到前庭。這一次，我的包裡面放的，是有了內容的錄像帶。向大門口走去的時候，逆光，只覺得那門里門外，人影憧憧，但是都一動不動，明顯是在盯著我向他們移動。那幾十步，實在是我此生邁得最沈重，最漫長的步子。
當我走到那門口時，我終於可以看到那些人的臉孔。我只是感到，一種無聲的壓力，一種……憤怒。只是，他們還是沒有攔住我，任我走了出去。
我離開北京飯店，快步走回王府飯店。剛一到，編輯就把我帶回的錄像帶拷貝出來。他們拷貝的時候，我有意躲得遠遠的，不想知道那上面是什麼。這樣，如果有問題，我可以一問三不知，一推六二五。當然，這只是我自己主觀地在自廂情願，或者叫自欺欺人。
我正在想著對老闆說辭職的事情，突然，老闆又讓我把那盤錄像帶的拷貝送到首都機場去「放信鴿」。我沒轍，只好又去了機場。我對自己的安慰還是，我對錄像帶上的內容，一點都沒有概念。
「放信鴿」是美國電視的專業用語，意思是，到機場等地方把材料交給任何看上去可靠的旅客，給他／她一些酬勞，托他／她帶到航班要去的地方去。這是一個衛星傳播普及以前的古老做法。但是，北京這個時候的衛星傳送早已被切斷，只有回到這個辦法了。
首都機場裡人山人海，都是惶惶然急於離開北京的外國人。除了人多以外，還有一點讓人毛骨悚然：諾大的機場大廳內，排隊的，擠來擠去找地方的人們無數，但多數都是一言不發，面色焦急，凝重。與平時這裡那種人聲嘈雜喧囂相比，這個時候，空氣中竟凝固著一種令人幾乎毛骨悚然的──寂靜。偶爾有人小聲說話，也是莫名其妙的謹慎，好像不願對方聽到似的。
我在去香港的航班隊伍中，找到了一個40歲不到的，商人模樣的美國人。我將挎包裡面的錄像帶拿出來，和一張100美元的鈔票一起遞給了他，一邊解釋說，我是某某美國電視公司的，請求他做我們的信鴿，希望告訴我他的名字，我好回到辦公室就傳真到香港，這樣他下飛機時，就能立刻交給我們在那裡接機等他的人……那時離開1997年還有好幾年，香港的衛星傳輸系統自然沒有被切斷。
那個美國人看著我，又看了看手中的錄像帶。然後，他點了點頭，臉上幾乎沒有表情。我記下了他的名字──羅伯特。羅伯特對我說了幾句話，讓我永誌難忘。但是，請容我等下再複述。
我離開機場的時候，也許是疑心疑鬼，總覺得後面有人跟著我。我對自己唯一的安慰還是，我對那錄像帶上的內容，一無所知。
回到市內的辦公室後，我再也不敢耽擱了，馬上找到了老闆，告訴他我完成了最後的任務，但是對不起，本人是個逃兵，現在不得不請辭了。老闆似乎這時才意識到，我和他不同，是持中國護照的人。他想了想，表示理解，給我開了工資，放了生。
多少年過去了。這件事情，也一度慢慢被淡忘了。直到有一天，我看到了一個畫面，一個被稱為20世紀最能展現人類大無畏精神的畫面。
我的記憶被激活了。
1989年的6月5日上午10點剛過，一個身穿白色襯衫的中國男青年，赤手空拳地橫然挺立在隆隆的坦克車隊前面，視死如歸。包括我們和其他為數不多的幾家境外新聞公司，在他擋坦克的長街旁邊的北京飯店的樓上，拍攝下了他的形象。
這裡，我要特別說一下，我不是沒有幫助和支持的。我今天想起當時的場面，我要專門地感謝北京飯店大門口，那些身著便衣的，執行公幹的北京同胞們。以他們所在的位置，掌握的情報，和他們擁有的技術條件，說他們不知道14樓上有我們的攝像組在拍攝，是全然不可能的。說他們不知道我乘電梯上到14樓，並拿回了那盤錄像帶，是更加不可能的。但是，我剛才說過，他們看著我的時候，眼睛裡面充滿了憤怒。作為一個一心在想著當逃兵的我，自以為他們的憤怒，是衝著我來的。但是，我忽略了一點。這些人，下班以後，也是北京的老百姓。子彈絕對不會因為他們白天所做的工作，而躲開他們的親人，朋友，街坊。
今天，我只有一個解釋，能夠說通為什麼他們放我進入那只容一個人出入的大門，又眼睜睜讓我從那門內出來。這就是，他們做出了個人的或是集體的，絕不是沒有危險後果的決定，他們要讓世界看到那個大義凜然的同胞的形象，和他頭上勇士的光暈。
最後，讓我告訴你，首都機場上那個美國人羅伯特對我說的是什麼。
「我十分，十二分地感到內疚和慚愧，在中國人最需要我的時候，我卻什麼都不能做，只有選擇逃離，而且有這個特權能夠逃離。這個錢，我不能拿。我雖然不知道這錄像帶裡面是什麼。但是請你放心，我會盡我最大的努力保護它，把它送到它應該去的地方，也算是我個人為中國人做的一點點事情。」
我今天回憶這些的時候，唯一的遺憾就是，羅伯特和我這一對逃兵中，有一個恐怕將永遠不知道我們在逃跑的路上，有意無意地為世界做了什麼。
One year, also in June. I was working for one of the three major American media companies. It was a tumultuous spring. It started with the death of the former Chinese Communist Party leader, followed by the visit of former Soviet leader Gorbachev to China... Until one night in early June, the eventful spring was marked with a huge exclamation mark and an even bigger question mark.
At that time, I was still a Chinese citizen. The next morning, I hurriedly went to find my boss: I couldn't stay in that troubled place any longer, I wanted to resign and make a quick exit.
To my surprise, my boss was also looking for me. He said that there was an Australian cameraman from our company and his British sound recording assistant at the Beijing Hotel who had just captured some important footage. My boss told me to personally retrieve it instead of sending the 20 or so interns from the broadcasting school who were working under me. This put me in a dilemma. I had come to resign, and now I was being assigned a task, and evidently an important one. Until that day, I had never had an experience where I had to go somewhere to pick up something myself.
I was young at that time, and my head was easily heated. This company had been very generous to me. In 80s China, I was being paid $200 a day, in cash. After giving it some thought, I felt it wouldn't be right to let them down at this moment, so I agreed. However, immediately after agreeing, I regretted it. Because my boss said, "It is said to be relatively safe outside." But from his tone, I could tell that his statement was far from reassuring. Clearly, it was not safe outside.
I walked from the Wangfu Hotel where our office was located to the Beijing Hotel. It was a little past 10 o'clock in the morning, but there were very few pedestrians on the streets. Occasionally, I could hear crisp firecracker-like sounds coming from various places. At the corner of a long street, I saw some residents pounding their chests and stamping their feet, cursing under their breath. An elderly man, supported by several young people on both sides, hurriedly headed towards the Peking Union Medical College Hospital. It was said that a bullet had entered his mouth from one side and exited from the other. The old man kept his head down, leaning forward, clearly in great pain.
When I reached the entrance of the Beijing Hotel, I saw a row of many glass doors closed, leaving only one in the middle slightly ajar, enough for one person to squeeze through. On the side of the door, both inside and outside, there were at least a dozen plainclothes agents.
With a heavy heart, I walked towards them.
In my backpack, there was an unsealed, brand-new videocassette, to be exchanged for the one I was supposed to retrieve. As I faced these individuals, I tried to reassure myself that I had nothing on me, and there was nothing on that cassette.
Thinking this, I had already passed by them and entered the lobby. I could only feel many eyes on my back. But it wasn't until I stepped into the elevator, watching the doors close, that no one shouted for me to stop.
On the 14th floor, I found our camera crew's room and knocked on the door. I heard some fumbling inside before the door finally opened. It turned out the two foreigners thought they were being captured, so they removed the camera from the balcony and hid it under the bed. Then they changed into pajamas, looking like a gay couple. When they saw it was me, they recognized me and breathed a sigh of relief. They immediately put the camera back on the balcony, while the cameraman inserted the videocassette I brought into the machine, and the sound recording assistant handed me the videocassette I had come to retrieve.
I took the elevator downstairs and walked to the lobby. This time, in my bag, there was a videocassette with content. As I walked towards the entrance, against the backlight, I felt the presence of figures both inside and outside the door, but they remained motionless, clearly watching me as I approached them. Those tens of steps were the heaviest and longest strides I had taken in my life.
When I reached the doorway, I could finally see their faces. I just felt a silent pressure, a... rage. But they still didn't stop me, and I walked out.
I left the Beijing Hotel and quickly walked back to the Wangfu Hotel. As soon as I arrived, the editors made a copy of the videocassette I brought back. While they were copying it, I deliberately kept my distance, not wanting to know what was on it. That way, if there were any questions, I could genuinely claim ignorance. Of course, this was just my own subjective wishful thinking, or self-deception.
I was thinking about telling my boss about my resignation when suddenly, he asked me to take the copy of the videocassette to the Capital Airport and "release the pigeon." I had no choice but to go to the airport. My only consolation was that I had no idea what was on the videocassette's content.
"Releasing the pigeon" was a professional term used in American television, meaning to hand the material to any reliable-looking traveler at the airport or other locations, giving them some compensation to carry it to the destination of their flight. It was an ancient practice before satellite transmission became widespread. However, satellite transmission in Beijing had already been cut off at that time, so this was the only option left.
The Capital Airport was crowded with people, all foreign nationals anxious to leave Beijing. Aside from the large number of people, there was something chilling about it: in the vast airport hall, countless people stood in lines or squeezed around, searching for their places, but most of them remained silent, with anxious and solemn expressions. Compared to the usual noisy atmosphere, there was an almost chilling silence in the air. Occasionally, someone would speak in a low voice, also inexplicably cautious, as if they didn't want the other person to hear.
In the queue for the flight to Hong Kong, I found a businessman-looking American who was less than 40 years old. I took the videocassette out of my shoulder bag and handed it to him along with a $100 bill, explaining that I was from a certain American television company and requested him to be our "pigeon." I asked for his name so that I could fax it to our team in Hong Kong, and they would be able to meet him at the airport when he arrived... There were still several years left until 1997, and Hong Kong's satellite transmission system was still intact.
The American man looked at me, then looked at the videocassette in his hand. Then he nodded, almost expressionless. I noted down his name—Robert. Robert said a few words to me that I will never forget. However, please allow me to delay sharing them for now.
When I left the airport, perhaps out of paranoia, I felt like someone was following me. My only consolation was that I had no idea what was on the videocassette's content.
After returning to the office in the city, I didn't dare to delay any longer. I immediately found my boss and told him that I had completed the final task but, I'm sorry, I was a deserter, and now I had to resign. It seemed that only at this moment did my boss realize that I was different from him, that I held a Chinese passport. He thought for a moment, showed understanding, paid me my wages, and let me go.
Many years have passed. This incident had also gradually been forgotten. Until one day, I saw a scene, a scene that was considered the epitome of human fearlessness in the 20th century.
My memory was activated.
It was 10 o'clock in the morning on June 5, 1989. A Chinese young man wearing a white shirt stood defiantly in front of a rumbling column of tanks, ready to face death. Including us and a few other foreign news companies, we captured his image from the balcony of the Beijing Hotel, located next to the street where he blocked the tanks.
Here, I must specifically mention that I was not without help and support. When I recall the scene today, I want to express my special gratitude to those plainclothes agents standing at the entrance of the Beijing Hotel. Given their positions, the information they possessed, and the technology available to them, it is absolutely impossible for them not to know that our camera crew was filming on the 14th floor. It is even more impossible for them not to know that I took the elevator up to the 14th floor and retrieved the videocassette. But as I mentioned before, when they looked at me, their eyes were filled with rage. As someone who was solely focused on desertion, I assumed their anger was directed at me. However, I overlooked one thing. These people were also ordinary residents of Beijing after work. Bullets would certainly not spare their loved ones, friends, and neighbors because of the work they did during the day.
Today, I can only offer one explanation as to why they let me enter that door that only allowed one person to pass through and watched me walk out from within. It was because they made a personal or collective decision that undoubtedly carried risks. They wanted the world to see the image of that righteous compatriot and the halo of bravery above his head.
Finally, let me tell you what Robert, the American man at the Capital Airport, said to me.
"I feel immensely guilty and ashamed that when the Chinese people needed me the most, I could do nothing but choose to escape, and I had the privilege to do so. I can't take this money. Although I don't know what's on this videocassette, please rest assured that I will do my best to protect it and deliver it to where it needs to go. It's my small contribution as an individual for the Chinese people."
As I recall these events today, my only regret is that one of us, Robert or I, will probably never know what we unintentionally or intentionally did for the world while we were on our escape.