When a nation mourns its reformers, it sometimes mourns more than the men themselves — it mourns the futures those men seemed to promise. The deaths of Zhu Rongji and Jiang Zemin have stirred in China a collective memory of an era defined by economic opening, irreverent leadership, and the sensation that history was still undecided. Beijing's swift move to censor that nostalgia reveals something governments rarely admit: that the past, remembered too vividly, can become a form of dissent.