Male, 19, student at Beijing No. 57 High School. From: Beijing.
On the evening of June 3, Ye was at home studying for the college entrance exam. After midnight, he left home and biked toward the sound of gunshots at Muxidi. Around 2:00 a.m., Ye was hit by three bullets: in the left arm, right chest, and back of the head. After he was shot, Ye was carried to the Navy General Hospital, where attempts to save him failed. Ye was described as an excellent pupil, both in studies and behavior, and he was said to have enjoyed the trust of his teachers and classmates. Ye’s family scattered a portion of his ashes at sea. The remaining portion is kept in his parents’ bedroom.
Ye’s mother, Yin Min (尹敏), is a member of the Tiananmen Mothers.
Yin Min holding photo of Ye Weihang
Ye Weihang and his mother, Yin Min
Ye Weihang wrote these words before his death: “One should face life with a smile, no matter what happens.”
With both my hands I am holding his pure white ashes. My hands are trembling. A vibrant young man suddenly turned into an urn of ashes. Nineteen white calla lilies are sending out a light scent; 19 years of youth ended in a split second. Although 20 years have already passed, it all feels like just yesterday. Every year on Tomb-Sweeping Day and June 4, facing this merciless fact, my torment multiplies; it feels as if a knife is being twisted in my heart, and my tears fall like rain. Because up until this day, no one has taken responsibility for my son’s death, and no one has said they are sorry, day in and day out, year by year, we still wait. I hate my own ignorance, to the extent that I believed that the Communist Party of China would not open fire against unarmed civilians. They did, and that resulted in my beloved son being shot three times at Shi Li Chang Street. The cruel reality is chilling.
After losing my beloved son forever, I did not have the heart to bury his ashes in the ice cold ground, to make him endure the cold winters and the hot summers. But even more so to console the lonely and sorrowful hearts of the parents, I have kept him at home. We have built a haven of love so that his spirit can be with us forever. Mother and father love you! My son! If your spirit is in heaven, please know that your parents have endured 20 years of suffering because of your death, with no outcome to this date. We also love ourselves and we need to come to terms with both the physical and emotional scars that will never go away. We need to live until the day that justice is delivered to those killed in June Fourth.
“I am a doctor, and at that time I was just visiting a child with a high fever. From that family's apartment on the sixth floor I could see my son, reviewing his lessons under a lamp in our apartment. Because he had already entered the stage of intensive review for the college entrance examinations, I felt a boundless comfort and confidence when I saw my son studying with such concentration. How in the world could I have known that this glimpse from the building across was to be our last farewell! But that senseless gunfire shook his young spirit.”