Wuhan Diary

Yet the bad news continues. Yesterday my daughter told me that the father of one of her friends seemingly contracted the virus (he was also suffering from liver cancer); they took him to the hospital but there was no one available to treat him and he died three hours later. This must have happened sometime within the past two days, and my daughter’s friend was still really emotional when they spoke on the phone. Last night my colleague Xiao Li called to tell me that two people from the Provincial Literary and Arts Federation housing complex where I live have been infected. They are from the same family and are both in their 30s. Xiao Li told me to be careful. The infected couple’s apartment is probably only around 300 meters away from where I live. However, my building has a separate entrance and a separate courtyard from them, so I’m not overly concerned. But I’m sure those neighbors in the same building are getting a bit nervous. Today my colleague called again and told me that they both have mild cases of the coronavirus, so they are just self-quarantining and treating themselves at home. In general, young people have better constitutions and tend to only suffer from mild infections, so that couple should be able to rebound quickly. I pray for their speedy recovery.

Yesterday’s press conference in Hubei about the coronavirus has become a trending topic on the internet. There are a lot of people roasting those officials online. The three representatives from the government all looked utterly exhausted and depressed, and they kept making mistakes during their presentations; but this shows just how chaotic things are for them. Actually, I kind of feel bad for them. I’m sure they have family members here in Wuhan, and when they attempted to take the blame for what was happening I really felt like they were speaking from the heart. But how did things get to this point? Looking back and going through everything in my head, it is pretty clear: During the early stage of the outbreak, officials from Wuhan didn’t take the virus seriously enough. Both before and after the quarantine went into effect, those officials were at a loss trying to deal with what was unfolding, which led to a great wave of public fear and really hurt a lot of people here in Wuhan. These are all aspects of the situation that I plan to write about in detail. But right now what I want to say is that what you saw from those government officials in Hubei is actually what you would expect from most government cadres in China: They are all basically on the same level. It’s not that they are somehow worse than other Chinese officials; they simply got dealt a worse hand. Officials in China have always let written directives guide their work, so once you take away the script they are at a complete loss as to how to steer the ship. If this outbreak had happened in another Chinese province, I’m sure the performance of those officials wouldn’t be much different than what we are seeing here. When the world of officialdom skips over the natural process of competition, it leads to disaster; empty talk about political correctness without seeking truth from facts also leads to disaster; prohibiting people from speaking the truth and the media from reporting the truth leads to disaster; and now we are tasting the fruits of these disasters, one by one. Wuhan is always vying to be first at everything, but now it is first in line to taste this suffering.

(This was a make-up entry written on January 27, 2020)

January 27, 2020

We don’t have enough face masks.

I would like to again express my thanks to everyone out there who has been lending their attention and support to what is happening in Wuhan, and also to the residents of Wuhan.

For the time being, most people are not too concerned with the big issues. What’s the use of worrying about those problems, anyway? Most people who are not infected are trying to remain optimistic.

One thing that citizens are more concerned about right now is the shortage of face masks. I saw an online video report today about a man in Shanghai who went to the pharmacy to buy a mask, only to find the price inflated to 30 yuan1 each. This guy was so infuriated by the markup that he lost his temper and started yelling at the employees; he recorded the whole thing with his cellphone. At the end of the day, he still bought some, but he insisted that the pharmacy give him a receipt so he would be able to prove how badly they were overcharging customers. I would never have thought of doing that; I really admire his bravery.

These disposable masks are quite wasteful and people go through them quickly. According to the medical professionals, only N95 masks are effective when it comes to stopping the spread of the virus. But in reality there is absolutely no way to get your hands on those types of masks. The ones for sale online are all out of stock. One of my brothers had better luck; his neighbors have some relatives who sent them more than 1,000 N95 masks! (They must have a lot of relatives!) They gave 10 masks to my brother’s family. “You see, there are still kindhearted people in the world,” my brother told me. But my eldest brother was not so lucky—they couldn’t get their hands on a single N95 mask. All they have are some disposable masks that my niece brought them. But what else can one do when supplies are limited? The only option is to wash them and disinfect them with a hot iron before reusing. It is actually a bit pathetic. (By the way, my niece wanted me to announce on Weibo that she still has not received any confirmation as to when Singapore citizens will be evacuated from Wuhan.)

I’m holding up about the same as before. I was supposed to visit a patient in the hospital on January 18th, but I could only go if I wore a face mask. But I didn’t have a single one on hand. Then I remembered that my old classmate Xu Min had given me one when I visited Chengdu back in mid-December, to protect me from the air pollution there. The air in Wuhan probably isn’t much better than in Chengdu, and I’ve long grown accustomed to breathing bad air, so I never wore that mask. Thanks to him, I found a way out of this bind. And it turns out it was actually an N95 mask! I wore that mask to the hospital, to the airport, and even when I went out to buy face masks! I wore that same mask for days on end, since I didn’t have any other choice.

Besides me, I also have a 16-year-old dog at home. On the afternoon of the 22nd I suddenly discovered that I was out of dog food. I quickly called the pet store to put in an order, I figured that I could also pick up some extra face masks while I was out. I went to the local pharmacy on Dongting Road (I won’t post the name of the store) and they had some N95 masks in stock, but they were selling them for 35 yuan each (five yuan more than that store in Shanghai!). A box of 25 masks was selling for 875 yuan. I asked them how they could be so cold-hearted as to price gouge their customers during a time like this. The storekeeper explained that their suppliers raised their prices, so they had no choice but to raise theirs. But since masks are a necessity, I was prepared to cave in and just buy a few, even at that inflated price. I was about to buy four masks from them when I discovered that the face masks all came in a big box with no individual packaging; when I saw the saleswoman reaching in with her bare hands to fish them out, I decided I had better not buy them after all. It’s better not to wear a mask at all than to wear one that has not been hygienically handled.

On the eve of the Lunar New Year, I went out again to try to buy some face masks, but all the pharmacies were closed. The only stores still open were a handful of small mom-and-pop markets. I found some N95 masks for sale at one store; they were gray Yimeng Mountain brand masks, each individually packaged. 10 yuan each. I bought four. Only then could I finally heave a small sigh of relief. Since I had heard that my big brother didn’t have any masks for his family, I also decided to save two for him. I was going to take them over to him the following day, but then he called and told me not to risk going out. It’s a good thing that we are all basically relegated to our apartments and don’t go outside, so we don’t really have a pressing need for that many masks.

I was just texting with a friend on WeChat; everyone is now talking about the shortage of face masks as the single most pressing issue. After all, all of us still need to occasionally leave our homes to buy food and supplies. One colleague had a friend send him some, but the package never arrived. Others have no choice but to purchase masks by fishy manufacturers. Online they are also talking about people selling used face masks that are “refurbished,” but no one dares to use those. Most people I know are down to their last mask or two, so we keep encouraging each other to use them sparingly. One joke I saw online was right on point: Face masks have indeed replaced pork as the most precious commodity for the Chinese New Year!

I’m sure that it is not just my brother, my colleague, and me who are short of face masks. There must be many people here in Wuhan without any face masks. But I am confident there isn’t a real shortage of supplies; it’s more a problem of the logistics of how to get them into people’s hands. Right now I just hope those express delivery companies can resume work soon and speed up the delivery of supplies into Wuhan; we need some help to get through these tough times.

January 28, 2020

The virus doesn’t discriminate between ordinary people and high-ranking leaders.

It finally stopped raining and the weather has been improving since yesterday. The sun even came out for a little while today. The sky is clear, which usually brightens one’s mood, but after being stuck at home for so long it just makes you even more frustrated. It has already been close to six days since the lockdown went into effect. Over the course of the past five days, people have had a lot more opportunities for real conversations with each other, but they have probably also had more opportunities to get into real arguments with each other, too. Most families have never spent so much time all clustered up together like they are now, especially those living in tiny apartments. Most adults can handle being forced to stay inside for so long, but small kids are bouncing off the walls—it is torture for them. I’m not sure if there are any psychologists out there who have any special advice on how to console the people of Wuhan. But no matter what happens, we need to hang on and get through these 14 days of isolation. They keep saying that the virus should reach full outbreak level within the next two days. I heard one doctor repeatedly urging people, “As long as you have something to eat at home, just stay in! Do not go outside!” Okay, then; I suppose I had better follow the doctor’s orders.

Today there is again a mix of good and bad news. Yesterday my old schoolmate Xia Chunping, who is now deputy chief editor of the China News Agency, did an interview with me over WeChat, and today he came over with a photographer to take a few photos for the story. The big surprise was that he brought me 20 N95 masks! It was like receiving a bag of coal on a cold winter’s day; I was ecstatic. As we were standing outside the main entrance to the Literary and Arts Federation building, talking, we ran into Old Geng, another former classmate, who was just returning from a trip to the store to buy rice. Old Geng looked us over with a suspicious gaze. I almost thought he might yell at us in that stern Henan accent of his: “Hey! Who are you people? Why are you standing in the entrance like that?” So when I saw that expression on his face I immediately called out to him and the look in his eyes instantly softened up. Old Geng became quite warm and cordial. He acted like we hadn’t seen each other in forever, even though we often interact with each other online in one of our mutual chat groups. Xia Chunping was a history major in college; back then, all the Chinese majors and history majors lived in the same dorm. So as soon as I introduced the two of them, they immediately hit it off. Old Geng lived in the same courtyard compound as me in both Wuhan and Hainan. But this year, we are both stuck in the same boat—neither of us made it down to Hainan, and instead we are both locked-down here in these dormitory-style apartments amid the quarantine. Old Geng told me that the two infected people from Building 8 had both been admitted to the hospital. All the neighbors seem to be breathing a bit easier since they left. I’m sure that couple will be better off getting professional medical treatment than just self-isolating at home. But I continue to pray for their swift recovery.

I saw Xia Chunping off and, just as I entered my apartment, my old friend Xiao Yuan came by. Xiao Yuan had edited some of my early books, like The Villas of Lushan and The Foreign Concessions of Hankou; he read my post about the scarcity of face masks and delivered three packages of masks right to my doorstep! I was so moved. It is good to have old friends you can count on. All of a sudden I have found myself with an overabundance of face masks. I’ve made sure to share them with my colleague who only yesterday was complaining about the scarcity of masks. Just now she came to pick them up and brought along some fresh vegetables for me. It really does feel like we are a little community working together to get through these difficult times. My colleague has three generations under one roof, so she has to take care of ailing in-laws and little kids. Because she has so many people to feed, she has to go out every other day to buy vegetables. She was born in the ’80s, and I’m sure it’s not easy for her and people of her generation. And on top of everything, she still has to deal with work. I saw a thread online where she was discussing whether or not they should still send out manuscripts for the next issue of their journal. When you have hardworking people like her in Wuhan, I’m sure we can get through anything that life throws at us.

But of course the bad news is circling everywhere. A few days ago when I first saw the news of a 40,000-person public banquet gathering at Baibuting, I immediately sent out a text to my friends group criticizing it. I was quite harsh with my words. I even said that hosting a large-scale community gathering like that during a time like this “should effectively be considered a form of criminal action.” That is what I said back on the 20th but I never imagined that on the 21st the provincial government would then go ahead and host a massive song-and-dance concert. Where has people’s common sense gone to? Even the virus must be thinking, Wow, you people have really underestimated me! I don’t want to say too much more about this issue. The bad news today is coming from where else but Baibuting, which now has several confirmed cases of the novel coronavirus. Although I haven’t authenticated this new information yet, based on my own intuition I don’t see any reason for my source to be lying. Just think about it; if you put 40,000 people together in a closed space, how can you expect people not to get infected? Some specialists have pointed out that the death toll from this type of new virus is not too high; everyone wants to believe that, myself included. However, some of the other news coming through is quite alarming. For those officials attending all those government meetings between the 10th and the 20th, please take care, because the virus doesn’t discriminate between ordinary people and high-ranking leaders.

While I’m writing, I’d like to say a little bit about Mayor Zhou Xianwang’s hat. For the past two days everyone online has been roasting him alive over his hat.2 During ordinary times I may have also gotten a good laugh out of this, but right now Mayor Zhou has been running all over the city, trying to lead an army of Wuhan city officials in the fight against this outbreak; you can see the exhaustion and anxiety written all over his face. I suspect that he may have even realized what will probably befall him once this thing has settled down. In times like this, people usually face a mixture of guilt, self-blame, uneasiness, and a sense that they should have done more, even though now it is all too late—I’m sure that Mayor Zhou is experiencing all these complex feelings. But he is, after all, still the man running our municipal government; he needs to pull himself together and focus on the pressing tasks ahead that we are going to have to face. He is, after all, just an ordinary person. I have heard people say that Mayor Zhou is a disciplined and pragmatic man; people usually have a very good impression of him. He started out in western Hubei and worked his way up the bureaucratic ladder, one step at a time. He has probably never encountered anything on this scale in his entire life. All this makes me think that we should perhaps look at this “hat incident” from a more sympathetic perspective. Perhaps it is something as simple as his wanting to wear a hat because it was so cold outside, but when he saw that the premier wasn’t wearing a hat he got nervous. After all, he is younger than Premier Li Keqiang and maybe he thought that if he wore a hat but the premier wasn’t wearing one, it might be interpreted as impolite? Perhaps that is why he suddenly took off his hat and handed it to his assistant. Perhaps it is better if we just look at it from this perspective?

Anyway, that’s all I have to record for today.

January 29, 2020

Taking care of oneself is one way to contribute to the effort.

I decided to just let everything go and slept all the way up until noon today. (It is actually not uncommon for me to sleep in like that, but in normal times I would blame myself for being so lazy. These days, however, everyone in Wuhan is saying: “On those sunny days when we till the crops, It’s hard to get a good night’s rest! We sleep all morning; we sleep all afternoon.”3 When people are all sleeping in like that, it is hard not to just let things go!)

I was still lying in bed flicking through messages on my phone when I saw a text one of my doctor friends sent me: “Take care of yourself and, no matter what, don’t go out! Don’t go out! Don’t go out!” I felt a bit jittery as soon as I saw the way he repeatedly emphasized the phrase “Don’t go out!” I figured this must mean that the outbreak is hitting its peak. I quickly called my daughter, who was about to go out to the local neighborhood supermarket to pick up a few boxed lunches. I told her not to go. Even if the only thing you have left to eat at home is plain white rice, don’t go out. Back on the first day of the Lunar New Year, when I first heard that the downtown district was shutting down the traffic, I immediately went over and brought her enough supplies to get her through at least 10 days. I suspect she was just too lazy to cook and that is why she wanted to go out. A good thing my daughter has a good fear of death ingrained in her! The second she heard what I had to say, she agreed to stay at home. She called me back a bit later to ask how to cook cabbage (can you believe that she actually put a head of cabbage in the freezer?). I don’t think my daughter has ever cooked a proper meal in her apartment. Usually she finds a way to get herself invited to other people’s houses for dinner, or just orders takeout. Perhaps this was a good way to get her to finally start using her kitchen. But I’m not sure if my daughter’s finally forcing herself to learn how to cook should be considered the silver lining in this situation. Compared to her, I’ve got it much easier. One of my neighbors just brought over a plate of steaming hot buns for me. We were both wearing face masks when she dropped the buns off; although it’s risky, I decided to just brave up and dig in.

The sun is glorious today. The most comfortable weather during the Wuhan winter is when the sun beams down like this, so soft and warm. If not for the coronavirus, I’m sure that the streets around my apartment would be jammed with traffic right now. That’s because East River Garden Lane, one of the Wuhan locals’ favorite destinations, is right around the corner. But these days East River Garden Lane is completely deserted. Two days ago my old classmate Old Dao went out there for a jog. He said that he was the only person out there. If you want to figure out where the safest place in the city is, I suspect that East River Garden Lane might be it.

For those of us here in Wuhan who are quarantined at home, most of us are fairly at ease—that is, as long as no one in our family is sick. But those patients and their families are really having a rough time. Right now it is extremely difficult to get a bed at any hospital, and many people are still suffering. The construction site for Huoshenshan Hospital4 is really kicking into high gear, but, as the old saying goes, distant water can’t put out a nearby fire. Those patients without a place to go are the greatest victims of this tragedy. So many families have been torn apart by this. But a lot of media outlets have been reporting on these stories. Freelance journalists have been even more active in covering this topic, many of them quietly documenting what has been happening from the very beginning. All we can do is record what is happening. This morning I read an essay about a family whose mother just died from the coronavirus on the first day of the Lunar New Year and both the father and the elder brother were infected. Reading that essay really tore me up, and this was basically a middle-class family. But what are all those lower-income people supposed to do? What will their lives be like? A few days ago, I actually saw some video clips of exhausted medical workers and patients collapsing, and I can tell you that I don’t think I have ever seen that kind of helpless sadness in my entire life. Professor Liu Chuan’e from Hubei University said that he feels like crying every day. Don’t we all?! I’ve been telling my friends that what we are seeing today allows one to clearly appreciate the true gravity of this human calamity. After pondering things, I really feel that there is no way to forgive those irresponsible workers; they should all pay a price for their incompetence. But for now all we can do is put all our efforts into this fight to get us through these hard times.

I should say a bit about what has been happening with me. Besides the fact that I’m in a very different state of mind than normal, my everyday life is actually not that different from before. During previous years, I spent the Lunar New Year in basically the same way as I’m spending it now. The only thing different is that I normally visit my great-uncle Yang Shuzi to pay my respects and join him for a New Year’s lunch, but this year the luncheon was canceled. My great-uncle is getting on in years and isn’t in the best of health, so we need to take special care not to expose him to the virus. So in the end, I basically didn’t go anywhere during the holiday this year. I actually have acute bronchitis and it usually acts up during the winter months. There was one period of time when I ended up being hospitalized for my bronchitis three years in a row during the Lunar New Year. So these past few days I have been repeatedly reminding myself to do everything possible to ensure that I don’t get sick. I did have a little headache a few days ago, and yesterday I had a slight cough; but today I’m feeling much better. A long time ago, Jiang Zidan5 (she is something of a specialist in traditional Chinese medicine) told me that, based on my illness, I have a condition referred to as “cold encapsulating fire.” From that point on, every winter I would prepare a traditional medicinal potion of milk vetch root, honeysuckle essence, chrysanthemum, Chinese wolfberry, red dates, and American ginseng, boiled in a pot of mulberry leaf tea. I gave my little potion the nickname “hodgepodge brew” and made sure to drink several large glasses each day. Once the coronavirus outbreak started to get serious, I added a morning vitamin C supplement, a glass of fizzy vitamin C drink, and a few glasses of hot water to my daily regimen. For my evening shower I made sure to let my back soak under the hot water, which was on the verge of scalding. I also went through an entire package of Lotus Flu Capsules. One of my classmates even taught me the “mantra of the closed door” to chant silently to myself: “Close up all of your body’s openings! If you stave off the cold wind, the hundred evils will not befall you! Store up the proper qi inside yourself, so the evil will be unable to assail!” He told me in a manner of all seriousness that this was a chant that had been secretly passed down for generations and was not at all “superstitious.” We had a good laugh about that one! I wonder if anyone really does chant it. In any case, I have already picked up whatever tricks I can from all sorts of people on how to protect myself from this virus, and I am employing them all, except, that is, for chanting the “mantra of the closed door”! But I think all those other tactics seem to be working. I’m in a pretty good state for the time being. Taking care of oneself is one way to contribute to the effort.