This year had been an endless run of hunger strikes and protests; I had managed to keep out of the heavy stuff but had no more excuses left.
There were only a handful of us when we left our campus, approaching the square we had become hundreds.
I pulled my scarf up over my face, terrified of the repercussions if I was recognised.
Making our way down the street I started to pull back with fear, but the swell of the crowd pushed me forward. There was no turning back now.
Panic built up inside me. I struggled to breathe. It felt like drowning. Then I saw him, a solitary figure frozen in front of the tanks, grasping his shopping bags in his small hands.
He looked so insignificant in the shadow of the metal beasts, but at that moment in time he was the most powerful man in China.