Writing takes subway cop on a new journey

When Ma Tuo graduated from the criminal investigation faculty of the Beijing Police College 13 years ago, he wanted to be like Sherlock Holmes, solving murders and fighting violent crime.

However, to his great disappointment, the Beijing Public Security Bureau assigned him to its traffic management department and he became a police officer on the capital's subway system.

The day he was told he had to work on Subway Line 13, he locked himself at home and lay on the bed. He was depressed when he thought about the serial killings, robberies and kidnappings — all the things he had dreamed of at police school — that he would never tackle.

The next day, the Beijing native reluctantly made his way to the Xi'erqi Subway Station to start his new life underground.

Huilongguan Police Station, Ma's base, is mainly responsible for ensuring safety and solving problems in stations on the western section of Line 13, including Xi'erqi, Longze, Qinghe and Xizhimen.

Subway officers have to schedule their work to fit the line's timetable, so they have to arrive early and stay late every day.

In Beijing, where traffic is heavy and the underground rail network is complicated, Line 13 is a "lifeline" linking residential compounds in the north with the downtown.

Data released in February by the Beijing Municipal Commission of Transport show that there were 27 subway lines in the capital by the end of last year, with tracks stretching 807 kilometers. So far this year, the number of daily passenger trips has topped 12 million.

For Ma, these figures not only mean constantly renovated station halls and upgraded security equipment, but also a rush of commuters.

Sometimes, he wades into the crowd to stop quarrels among passengers or chases leaflet distributors on the trains, while at other times he ensures safety by stopping peddlers from blocking entrances or exits, and even prevents people from boarding trains if they have had too much to drink.

"It can be annoying to deal with such trivial things stop by stop, day after day," the 36-year-old said as he patrolled Qinghe Station on July 4.

"After working for more than six months, I was worried that my life would be like this, train after train, forever. That no matter what happened, I would always be stuck on the subway."

First story

However, a turning point came one day in 2016, when he discovered that some netizens were writing on Zhihu, a popular experience-sharing platform, about unforgettable people they had met. He realized that he was eager to try his hand, too.

"I thought I could write better than some other netizens because I meet so many different people in the subway," Ma said, adding that his original motive for writing was a desire for acclaim or maybe just a touch of vanity.

So, he posted a story online about an old woman who sold goods at an exit of Longze Station.

He called the 60-year-old peddler "Zhi Yun", noting her square face, small eyes and suntanned skin. Wearing a pink woolen hat and dressed in a cotton jacket that was too dirty to tell the color, she usually pushed a cart bearing a bubbling pot to sell boiled corn at the station.

To attract more business, she always blocked the exit, which was illegal and a security risk for passengers. "But considering she was old and it wasn't easy to make a living, we tolerated her most of the time instead of issuing fines," Ma said. "However, we gave her an inch, and she sometimes took a yard."

Recalling a "fight" with Zhi Yun, he wrote in the post: "One night, when I again asked her not to block the exit, she looked resentful, not finding excuses like before. She ignored me while I shouted at her. When I was trying to take her to the police station, she suddenly jumped up on the cart like an acrobat, spilling the pot. I was angry, but I couldn't do anything about her, because her pot didn't hurt anyone. I didn't want to talk to her anymore."

A short time later, the station was renovated, which forced many vendors, including Zhi Yun, to move to other places, Ma said. The next time he saw her was two years later.

"I got off a train at Xi'erqi Station one day. I was surprised to see a familiar figure on an overpass. It was Zhi Yun, running the same business and pushing the same cart and pot," Ma wrote in the post.

"She was looking at me. Then she quickly ran through the stream of passengers toward me. I was a little nervous, because I didn't get along with her. God knows what she might do. I walked faster and faster, but she caught up with me via a shortcut I didn't know," he wrote. "Suddenly, she took out a stick of corn, smiled at me like a child and asked me to eat it. I was little tearful at that moment."

That first subway story gained Ma huge attention online. Some netizens showed understanding for the peddler who made her own living, commenting "Life is sweet, even if it is bitter sometimes," while some gave a thumbs-up to Ma's vivid descriptions of the woman, displaying the curiosity he used in his work. The comments cheered Ma up, and started a journey of sharing the interesting things that happened to him at work via the internet.

A fresh perspective

Writing made the subway police officer realize that a few trivial things that had bothered him before had become interesting. For example, he wrote a post about a drunk man he discovered lying on the steps outside Longze Station one summer afternoon.

To prevent disruption to the other passengers, Ma took the man, who was holding a liquor bottle and wearing a cotton shirt covered in vomit, back to the station's police room. After leaving him asleep on a chair in the lobby with a cup of hot water, Ma became engrossed in other matters. When he returned a few hours later, the man had left without a word.

In a post, Ma wrote: "I was frustrated, as I felt like my work wasn't important to him. That it was all wishful thinking."

However, two days later, the man returned to the police station. Wearing the same shirt, which had been cleaned, he looked embarrassed. He first apologized for vomiting over Ma, and then offered to buy him a drink.

"Looking at him, I found I had underestimated my previous actions, and in that moment I also seemed to find my own worth," Ma wrote in a subsequent post.

He also wrote about a father in tears after finding his lost son in the subway, a love story about a middle-aged fruit vendor, an old man who started drinking after his wife died, and a white-collar worker standing on a subway overpass who neither wanted to work overtime nor go home to face family issues.

He also posted about a couple who were detained for cheating passengers out of money by lying, saying their wallets had been stolen and they needed to buy tickets in the subway. "From the stories, I saw many aspects of life, as well as different sides of the same person," Ma said.

Difficult interaction

A popular figure in Ma's posts was a worker responsible for maintaining order at Longze Station.

The man, surnamed Wei, who came to the station at about 55 years old, was the subject of frequent complaints by passengers and his peers because he was inflexible at work.

One day, Wei quarreled with a young passenger who was trying to get on the train while wearing roller stakes. Wei would not allow him to take the train, saying it was too dangerous, but the passenger said there was no rule to prohibit it and he had no other shoes to change into.

Going through the subway rules in his mind and confirming that there was no such prohibition, Ma and another colleague helped support the passenger onto the train. He didn't leave the platform until he saw the young man standing firm in the train as the doors closed.

When Ma turned around to talk to Wei, the old worker looked unhappy and he even sulked for a while.

Later, Ma went away to study for a few months. When he returned, he was told that Wei had retired. When he heard the news, Ma breathed a sigh of relief, just like the other station staff members.

Ma said that he thought Wei would enjoy a peaceful retirement, but shortly afterward he learned that the stubborn man had died of an illness.

"Like some passengers, Wei only got on a train from this platform once and never came to the station again," Ma wrote, comparing the older man to people who pass on the subway system, but don't notice each other or care if they exist. "When he worked here, I thought he was rigidly dogmatic. When he was no longer here, I realized how great he was."

As usual, Ma posted the story online. Soon, a netizen's message caught his eye. It said: "Some people's views are behind the times, but they hold the bottom line. I would rather there are more people who take things seriously, even if it can be a little troublesome. I want my child to live in a world where someone seriously tells him that it is not safe to take a subway train while wearing roller skates."

Regular thumbs-up

So far, Ma has posted about 300 metro stories on the internet, gaining more than 400 million views.

He has 260,000 followers on Zhihu and has been given more than 1.45 million thumbs-up. On Sina Weibo, China's Twitter-like platform, he has 670,000 followers and has gained 750,000 thumbs-up.

While continuing to post online, Ma has also compiled his observations of the "underground world" and human life into a book, 10,000 Reasons to Love Life, which was published earlier this year.

"On the one hand, recording and sharing the stories helps netizens to understand the work of the subway police, and on the other hand, it helps me see real life," Ma said.

"I hope more people will feel the power of life behind my posts at their lowest points."

Now, he receives many messages from netizens daily. Some talk about the interesting things they have seen during their commute, while others share their feelings of attraction to other people in the subway.

"Fighting hard, violent crime is a good police value, but it's also good to be integrated with these trivial things underground and help solve them quickly," Ma said.