It is a story he feared he’d never get a chance to tell. Li, a 44-year-old American citizen, is one of three U.S.-based academics released from Chinese prisons last week after being convicted of espionage. U.S. protests over his arrest and that of American University researcher Gao Zhan had exacerbated tensions in the already difficult relationship between the Bush administration and Beijing. On the eve of this week’s state visit by Secretary of State Colin Powell–and two weeks after Beijing won its much-publicized bid for the 2008 Olympic Games–the scholars became pawns in a delicate diplomatic contest. Their releases, say China watchers, were timed for maximum effect. The Chinese leadership “had to save these playing cards for the most opportune moment,” says political-science professor Andrew Nathan, of Columbia University. “By releasing them they hoped to take human rights off the agenda.”

Before putting him on a plane back to America, Li’s captors warned him not to talk. But the plain-spoken professor of business strategy and marketing, in an interview with NEWSWEEK, said he is discussing his ordeal because he believes revealing China’s injustices is the only way to push the nation toward greater democracy. Detained in late February, Li says his passport and phone were confiscated at the border. Later flown to Beijing, he was transported wearing fake sunglasses with blacked-out lenses to a house outside the city, where he was interrogated regularly for two-and-a-half months before being moved to prison. But as an American, Li was treated far better than other prisoners, he says.

Li’s only lifeline was periodic visits from an American Embassy official. “I heard you’re from Princeton, so I brought you this,” embassy liaison Jim Levy told Li on his first visit. With guards looking on, he passed Li a white hooded Yale sweat shirt, smiled and shook his hand. On other visits Levy read a letter from Li’s wife, Yingli, and delivered a T shirt from his 9-year-old daughter, Diana, with a hand-painted picture of their house in New Jersey. (Diana turned his case into a mini cause celebre by writing President George W. Bush about it; Li wore her gift shirt under his dress shirt on the day of his trial.) As the months dragged on and Li’s spirits ebbed, Levy would bring in Western newspapers with stories on the scholars and hold them up for the prisoner to glimpse from across the room. “I nearly cried when I saw the news stories,” says Li. “To know that the outside world was supporting me–that feeling was so great.”

Asked about the charges he was convicted of, Li stiffens his back and answers sternly, “I am not a spy.” But he has been an outspoken advocate of democratic reform. While a Ph.D. candidate at Princeton in 1989, Li organized student protests in support of the pro-democracy movement. And as a business professor he has published several papers and books examining China’s economic and social reforms. The apparent charge that prompted his detainment: accepting “secret” documents–magazine articles, book excerpts and speeches–from fellow scholar and detainee Gao Zhan. Li admits knowing Gao but would not comment any further. Gao, back in her Virginia home last week, maintained her innocence.

With tensions temporarily eased, the Bush administration is expected to begin dialogue on other issues this week, such as President Bush’s upcoming visit to China in October. But human-rights activists are urging Powell not to let Beijing off too easily. Several U.S.-based academics, business people and religious prisoners with less-vocal supporters than Li and Gao remain detained in Chinese prisons. “China was very clever,” says Mike Jendrzejczyk, of Human Rights Watch in Washington. “It’s now up to the administration to show they know how to use leverage as well.”

Li Shaomin agrees that continued pressure is good for China. But he wants only to watch the machinations from the sidelines and return to his work. As he boarded the United Airlines flight last week to take him back to America, attendants handed him his passport and a glass of champagne and said, “Welcome home.” “I felt so proud at that moment,” Li says, safely back in Washington, his wife sitting by his side, and his daughter watching cartoons in the next room. He taps his box of cigarettes on the table, grows quiet and smiles.