作者：李尊轶
编辑：李聪玲 责任编辑：罗志飞 校对：熊辩 翻译：刘芳
唐荆陵和我是湖北省原江陵县弥市中学八九届同学。他是理科学霸，当年以江陵县高考状元的身份考入上海交通大学。我是文科学渣、调皮兼“不听话”，八九年春季转学到松滋县沙道观中学参加高考，此后啥也不是。
一
2016年1月，唐荆陵被广州市中级人民法院以“煽动颠覆国家政权罪”判处有期徒刑五年，他因为替他人维权而身陷囹圄，我不禁感慨万千，回想极权专制统治下普罗大众遭遇的种种不幸与灾难，再看唐荆陵为了追求社会的公平与正义、为了大家能有一张决定自己命运的选票，不仅被政府吊销了律师执业资格证书，还被构陷进了监狱遭受严厉酷刑和非人虐待。我们这些在外面暂时自由的人应该为他做点什么，哪怕替他发声说几句，也算是能对得住自己的良心，将来也能面对这位播撒民主火种的英雄。
有道是，我做不了英雄，但我可以追随英雄；我做不了勇士，但我愿意为勇士呐喊！在这个高强度遏制言论表达几近窒息的社会里，在微信朋友圈发出声援，虽然实在是个冒险的行为，但也是对蒙难者的一种支持！
2017年8月，笔者在微信朋友圈发文字和图片声援唐荆陵。
二
中共自建政起从来没有关心过老百姓的健康，制造的人道灾难数不胜数，其中假疫苗、毒疫苗致残致死，对受害者家庭造成重大打击。由于受害者面对的是中共政权和医疗系统，维权申诉成功的机率几乎为零，导致一般的律师都不愿意接这类案件。唐荆陵基于自己的价值立场和职业理念，长期关注政府滥权、公共安全、司法不公等主题，对于弱势群体在公共事件中遭遇到的不公更愿意基于人权与法制的因素提供法律援助，结果遭致中共政府残酷打击和迫害。作为一个良知尚存的人，我应该无条件地声援他。
2018年7月，笔者在微信朋友圈就中国假疫苗、毒疫苗的危害声援唐荆陵。
三
唐荆陵在被羁押与服刑的那些年，他的家人承受了巨大的精神压力，经历了难以言说的煎熬。他的母亲因长期担忧儿子的处境，情绪不稳定，健康状况日渐恶化。病情加重时，她始终惦记着儿子，可直到她生命的最后一刻，都没能如愿再见到唐荆陵一面。这种遗憾，对于一个母亲来说，是难以言说的痛；对于其他知情人而言，如磐石一般沉重，压在每个人的心底。唐荆陵的妻子也因为持续的压力与安全风险，不得不离开中国，到美国寻求庇护，从此劳燕分飞、天各一方。对于他年过八旬的老父亲来说，短时间内接连承受妻子离世、儿子坐监、儿媳远走他乡——这不仅意味着家庭的支离破碎，更像是生命里最重要的三个支柱被同时抽空。老父亲独自面对空荡的屋子，那种深沉的孤独与绝望、无处诉说的委屈与思念，只能默默地压在心里。可以想象，经历了如此沉重的命运冲击，老人家的内心一定已千疮百孔。
正因为如此，我心里始终惦记着唐荆陵的父亲。总觉得应该抽时间去看看老人家。哪怕只是陪他坐一会儿、听他说几句心里的话，也许能让他知道，这个世界上仍有人记得他们一家所承受的苦难。对这样一位满身隐痛的父亲而言，一个愿意上门的朋友，也许就是一份来得迟却依然重要的温暖。
2018年8月，笔者专程回荆州看望唐荆陵的父亲表达问候。
四
经过漫长的等待，终于迎来了那一天——2019 年 4 月 29 日，唐荆陵获释的日子。得知当天下午广州的国保已将他送上返回荆州的火车，而我恰好因胰腺病变在荆州住院治疗，于是便做出决定，无论如何都要去荆州火车站迎接他。这不仅仅是一趟车站之行，更是为那些被迫中断的岁月做一个见证。
我匆匆忙忙赶到火车站，已是临近高铁到站时间，我扶着出站口的栏杆，焦急地守望着站台出口。待到人群临近，望着每一个走出的身影，心跳随着人流的涌动一点一点加快。本来，我想制作一块“欢迎唐荆陵回家”的标语牌，高高地举过头顶，让他一出站就能看到。然而，病痛带来的虚弱让我感到力不从心，只能默默站在那里等待。我想象着他出现那一刻——从“小监狱”回到“大监狱”，但至少走在相对自由的空气里。然而人群渐渐稀疏，直到最后一个旅客离开，我也没有看到他的身影。一阵焦急涌上心头，我赶紧拨电话询问，这才知道他早已经出了站，在大厅外等我。
我顾不得病痛，立即向大厅外奔去，终于在人群中找到了他。他比我印象中更消瘦，灯光下肤色也更显苍白，但神情沉静稳重。我挤过人群将他热情拥抱，他就双手轻拍我后背的机会凑近我耳边小声提醒了一句：“有人，快走。”我这才意识到，危险其实一直在我们周围！我连忙松开他，抓起那箱他从监狱带回来的沉甸甸的书籍扛上肩头——那是他在监狱里最后的精神陪伴。我们匆匆向站前大道走去，步伐不敢停顿，直到走出广场才下意识回头观察，确信没有人跟着，这才拐到凤鸣大道西侧的广告牌旁停了下来。
原来，当天两名广州国保在南站把他押上高铁后，立刻坐飞机赶来荆州，在出站口时就站在我的身后。他不敢抬头，更不敢多看我，只能用行李箱挡住自己的脸——不是为了他自己，而是为了保护我，不让我因为一个“多余的眼神”而遭人盯上。
忽然我明白了唐荆陵在沉默中背负着怎样的压力，也明白了我为什么非来不可。这是一次几乎不能问候、不能交谈、甚至不能正眼相看的迎接。却恰恰因此——它显得格外沉重，格外朴实，也格外值得铭记。
五
那一刻，我思绪万千，我连续七年时间到湖北省黄冈市政府门口举牌抗议团风县政府的人权暴行，一度还到中共湖北省委大门外举牌抗议。最初是给黄冈市政府接待人员口述诉求要求解决问题，然而没有结果；然后在黄冈政府门口站立着双手举着标语表达抗议，无果；又坐高凳上、站在高凳上举着标语表达抗议；被黄冈公安局胜利街派出所警察收走标语后，依然站上高凳作举牌抗议姿势表达对政府侵犯人权的不满。
中共警察将我拽到值班室，威胁我说，要调取监控视频取证将我抓起来，我回答说：“好！你把我抓起来就成全了我：坐共产党的牢，无上光荣！”有人问我，你真的不怕坐牢吗？扪心自问，我怎么会不怕坐牢呢？仅湖北省的勇士秦永敏、王宝龙、唐荆陵、郭飞雄、丁家喜、刘家财、鲍乃刚、刘艳丽、许光利、杜导斌、刘飞越、袁奉初、龚圣亮、毛善春……一条条鲜活的生命，遭酷刑、被监禁，高墙里、电网下，无休无止的恐惧，我能不害怕吗？尤其是我的好友刘家财，他的言论远比我温和，时至今日已经三年多的时间，仿佛从人间蒸发，杳无音讯。这种恐惧如影随行在我的心里挥之不去，当然这也坚定了我坚持为他发声的信念，也是促成我出走流亡的原因。
那一刻，我也不禁想到我的表哥周登明，因为他的父亲、我的姨爹周德全的冤案，从1978年至2020年去世的四十余年时间，一直前往北京向中共中央政府索要公道，表哥在晚年经常念叨他与父亲的最后时光：我跟父亲一起坐牢，要不是我还没有成年，共产党也会把我枪毙掉的。他也常老泪纵横、情绪激动叫嚷：“共产党叫老子陪杀场啊！”对于表哥而言“陪杀场”远不是听到的枪响声、父亲倒地的“扑通”声，也不止是闻到的硝烟味、父亲身体的血腥味、屎尿味，以及看到的枪击扬起的尘土、父亲肌肉痉挛抽动的躯体和枪口处汨汨流出的鲜血。那是父子情深的撕心裂肺，更是对中国共产党残暴冷酷、嗜血好杀、惨绝人寰的无差别屠戮的反文明反人类本性的无声控诉——中华民族和中国人民百年来的苦难根源就是中国共产党，是中共的流氓本性和邪教本质！
中国共产党必须灭亡！
中华人民共和国必须毁灭！
Ninth moon, ascending the heights, reminiscing about my brothers of the Tang
Author: Li Zunyi
Editor: Li Congling Executive Editor: Luo Zhifei Proofreading: Xiong Bian Translation: Liu Fang
Abstract: This article reflects on the author’s friendship with Tang Jingling, recounting Tang’s persecution by the Chinese Communist Party for his human rights advocacy, the suffering endured by his family, and the author’s repeated efforts to voice support, visit Tang’s aging father, and greet Tang upon his release from prison. The author also describes his own experiences of repression and the wrongful persecution of his relatives, which deepened his understanding of the CCP’s brutality and strengthened his commitment to freedom and justice.
Tang Jingling and I were classmates in the 1989 cohort at Mishi Middle School in the former Jiangling County of Hubei Province. He was a science prodigy who entered Shanghai Jiao Tong University as the top scorer in the county’s college entrance exam. I, on the other hand, was a mediocre liberal arts student—mischievous and “disobedient.” In the spring of 1989, I transferred to Sandaoguan Middle School in Songzi County to take the exam, and after that, I amounted to nothing.
I
In January 2016, Tang Jingling was sentenced to five years in prison by the Guangzhou Intermediate People’s Court on the charge of “inciting subversion of state power.” He had been jailed simply for defending the rights of others. I was flooded with emotion, thinking of the many tragedies suffered by ordinary people under a totalitarian regime. Tang pursued fairness and justice for society. He wanted every citizen to have a vote to determine their own destiny. For that simple vision, the authorities revoked his law license, fabricated charges, and sent him to prison, where he endured severe torture and inhumane treatment. Those of us who still enjoy temporary freedom should do something for him—say a few words, raise a voice—so that we can face our own conscience and honor this man who planted the seeds of democracy.
As the saying goes: I may not be able to become a hero, but I can follow one. I may not be a warrior, but I can cry out for the warrior! In this suffocating environment where expression is ruthlessly suppressed, voicing support on WeChat Moments was dangerous—but it was also a stand for the persecuted.
In August 2017, I posted words and images on WeChat Moments to voice support for Tang Jingling.
II
Since its founding, the CCP has never cared about the health of the people and has produced countless humanitarian disasters. Fake and toxic vaccines crippled and killed children, inflicting unbearable suffering on families. Facing the CCP regime and its medical system, victims have nearly zero chance of justice, and most lawyers do not dare touch such cases. Yet out of his values and professional ethics, Tang Jingling spent years focusing on government abuse, public safety, and judicial injustice. For the vulnerable victims of public tragedies, he provided legal aid grounded in human rights and the rule of law. For this, he was brutally persecuted. As someone with a conscience, I felt I must support him unconditionally.
In July 2018, I again posted on WeChat Moments calling attention to the toxic vaccine scandal and expressing support for Tang.
III
During Tang Jingling’s years in detention and imprisonment, his family endured tremendous psychological pressure and unspeakable suffering. His mother, consumed by worry over her son’s condition, experienced emotional instability and declining health. Her condition worsened until the very end, when she passed away without seeing her son one last time. For a mother, this was an unspeakable sorrow. For those who knew their story, it was a weight like a boulder pressing on the heart. Tang’s wife, also under continuous pressure and safety risks, had to leave China and seek asylum in the United States. Husband and wife were forced apart, separated by oceans. For Tang’s aging father, now over eighty, the death of his wife, his son’s imprisonment, and his daughter-in-law’s departure meant the collapse of all three pillars of his life. He faced the empty home alone, burdened with loneliness, anguish, and silent grief. One can imagine the wounds carved into his heart.
Because of this, I often thought about visiting him. Even sitting with him quietly, listening to him speak—perhaps it might offer a small comfort, a reminder that the world had not forgotten the suffering of his family. To a father carrying such deep pain, a visitor could be a warmth long delayed but still precious.
In August 2018, I returned to Jingzhou specifically to visit and pay respects to Tang’s father.
IV
After a long wait, the day finally came—April 29, 2019, the day Tang Jingling was released. I was hospitalized in Jingzhou for pancreatic issues at the time, but when I learned that Guangzhou’s state security officers had put him on a train back to Jingzhou, I made up my mind: no matter what, I would go to the station to welcome him.
I hurried to the train station close to arrival time. Leaning on the railing by the exit, I anxiously watched for him. As passengers streamed out, my heartbeat quickened with each face. I had originally wanted to prepare a sign that read “Welcome Home, Tang Jingling” and hold it high so he could see it immediately. But my illness left me weak, and I could only stand there silently waiting. I imagined the moment he would appear—leaving the “small prison” only to return to the “big prison,” yet at least breathing freer air. But as the crowd thinned and the last passenger left, he still had not appeared. Anxiety surged. I called someone and learned he had already exited and was waiting outside the hall.
Ignoring my pain, I rushed out and finally found him. He was thinner than I remembered, his skin pale under the lights, but his expression calm and steady. I pushed through the crowd and embraced him. He lightly patted my back and whispered quickly into my ear: “They’re here. Let’s go.” Only then did I realize the danger surrounding us. I released him and grabbed the heavy box of books he carried from prison—his last spiritual companions inside those walls. We hurried toward the avenue, not daring to stop, turning only after we had left the square to make sure no one was following us.
It turned out two Guangzhou state security officers had boarded the train with him at the South Station and then flown to Jingzhou to wait for him at the exit. They were standing right behind me. Tang did not dare look up at me or even glance in my direction. He used his suitcase to cover his face—not to protect himself, but to protect me, so that even an accidental look would not put me in danger.
In that moment, I understood the weight Tang carried in silence. I also understood why I had to be there. This was a welcome without greetings, without conversation, without even eye contact. And precisely because of that, it was unforgettable—solemn, heavy, and deeply meaningful.
V
At that moment, countless memories flooded my mind. For seven years, I repeatedly went to the Huanggang City Government to protest the human rights abuses committed by Tuanfeng County officials. I even went to the gate of the CCP Hubei Provincial Committee to hold up signs in protest. First, I tried to present my claims verbally to the reception office—no result. Then I stood at the gate with signs—no result. Later I stood on a high stool, holding my signs aloft. When police from Shengli Street Station took away my signs, I continued standing on the stool, using my posture alone to protest the government’s violations of human rights.
The police dragged me into their duty room and threatened to use surveillance footage to arrest me. I told them: “Fine! Arrest me. Being jailed by the Communist Party—what an honor!” People asked me: “Are you really not afraid of prison?” Of course I was. How could I not be? Hubei’s brave people—Qin Yongmin, Wang Baolong, Tang Jingling, Guo Feixiong, Ding Jiaxi, Liu Jia-cai, Bao Naigang, Liu Yanli, Xu Guangli, Du Daobin, Liu Feiyue, Yuan Fengchu, Gong Shengliang, Mao Shanchun… so many living souls were tortured and imprisoned. Behind high walls, under electrified fences, in endless fear—how could I not be afraid? Especially my good friend Liu Jia-cai—his words were far milder than mine, yet he vanished three years ago and has not been heard from since. That fear haunts me, but also strengthens my resolve to speak for him. It was one of the reasons I chose to flee China.
I also thought of my cousin Zhou Dengming. Because of the wrongful case of his father—my uncle Zhou Dequan—he spent more than forty years traveling to Beijing to seek justice. In his later years, he often recalled his final moments with his father: “I was in prison with him. If I had been an adult then, the Communist Party would have executed me too.” He would break down in tears and cry out, “The Communist Party dragged me to the killing ground!” For him, the “killing ground” was not only the gunshot, the thud of his father’s body hitting the earth, the smell of gunpowder, the blood, the stench of death, the dust rising from the bullet’s impact, or the spasms of his father’s body. It was the tearing of a bond between father and son. It was an unspoken indictment of a regime that is brutal, bloodthirsty, and inhuman. The root of the Chinese people’s suffering for the last century is the Chinese Communist Party—its thuggery, its cult-like nature, its hostility to civilization and humanity.
The Chinese Communist Party must perish.The People’s Republic of China must fall.
