Today in China, to get rich is glorious. But does a higher standard of living make people better human beings? Are the rich more generous than the poor? What about the tension between the rich and the poor? Can money buy satisfaction? These are serious questions that I think need to be thought about more by the Chinese people.
One Saturday night, I was waiting in a line of cars to exit a crowded outdoor public parking lot. There were five cars ahead of me. For ten minutes, the line didn't move. I soon discovered that the owner of a BMW SUV, a man in his thirties, was refusing to pay the one yuan parking fee because he objected to the parking lot attendant knocking on his car in a heavy-handed manner. No damage was done to his car, but the driver remained defiant. The parking lot attendant, wearing cotton-padded clothes and looking to be at least fifty years old, insisted that the driver pay the fee. He stopped the car and gathered four buddies who work in the nearby food stand to block the BMW from exiting the lot. Then, he threatened to beat the driver if he did n't pay.
I didn't know if I should get out of my car to offer my help or just stay in the car for my own safety in case a fight broke out. At a crucial moment, a man riding a bicycle approached the group on the brink of an altercation. This passerby carried a ragged bag. He pulled out one yuan from his pocket and offered to pay the fee for the driver.
"It's not about money. I have money!" The BMW driver proudly showed the cyclist a thick stack of one-hundred-dollar bills he carried in his wallet.
The cyclist waved his hand at the BMW driver and said, "Go on, then. Drive safely."
I became curious about the cyclist. Four drivers of fancy cars behind the BMW offered no help. A policeman who witnessed the entire incident did nothing. But the poor bicyclist intervened and solved the problem. I followed him until he stopped at the bicycle repair shop next to the parking lot.
"I need my bike to be aligned and my tire to be fixed," he said to the three men working at the sh op.
"We all watched you!" said one of the men. "At first, we thought you worked for that guy in the BMW – but now we see that you are not with him. You're by yourself!"
"Yes," the cyclist nodded nonchalantly.
"So, you're just a man with a good heart. We can't believe we've met such a good man tonight! We will fix everything on your bike and give you a 60 percent discount. You only need to pay six yuan!" says another shop attendant.
The bicyclist searched through his wallet, and said, "I'm sorry, I only have three yuan left." I felt moved at the thought of this poor man stepping in to help a rich man in a BMW. How can poor people be so giving? I walked toward them with three one-dollar coins. "Let me pay for him."
"Oh, another stranger that turns out to be a good person!" another repairman said with a wide grin.
I walk back to my car, feeling good about myself.
"Hey, wait a minute, is that you, Niuniu?" the cyclist called.
I turned around, again looking at the bicyclist, this time recognizing him as my grandfather. Under the dim lights of the parking lot, I had not been able to see him clearly. I am at once happy to see my grandfather and embarrassed that I didn't do anything to help sooner. What's more unnerving is that my grandfather isn't even close to being poor.
"I love you, Grandpa!" I give my grandpa a big hug and a kiss, before saying good-bye. As I walked back to my car, another thought crossed my mind. Maybe getting rich is glorious, but the combination of looking poor and offering help is so much more glorious than looking rich and acting petty. The new generation of Chinese might be getting wealthier, but are we getting any wiser? We could all take a few lessons from my grandfather.
29 Three Types of Men
On Saturday afternoon, Beibei, Lulu, and I go to play tennis at the Twenty-first Century Hotel. We are missing a fourth player, but it so happens that Beibei has a sore foot, so Lulu and I play singles.
I have been worried about Lulu's mood since she broke up with Ximu, but in the end Lulu acts like there was nothing wrong. In fact, her conscience is so clear that she is beating me easily, two to nothing.
It is Beibei who speaks less than usual, as if there was something weighing on her mind. After tennis, the three of us go to Half-Acre Garden on the East Third Ring Road and have a simple meal of Taiwanese snacks. After dinner, we go to T.G.I. Friday's to have a drink. Very few places in China offer free refills of Coke and iced tea. T.G.I. Friday's does.
With Sade's song "Lover's Rock" in the background, I ask Beibei, "What's up?"
Beibei rolls her eyes, "Don't get me started. It's been a big mess."
Lulu quickly fills me in: "One of Beibei's hottest male singers, Little Bench, got himself into trouble. Ten days ago, he had a concert at Beijing Workers' Stadium the first show of his national tour. While his limo was driving along Workers Stadium Road North, many fans were chasing him, so the driver was driving slowly, and Little Bench opened the window to wave at his fans. Just then, a man suddenly threw himself in front of the limo and stopped it. Then he poured petrol on himself and shouted to everyone: 'I've loved Little Bench for ten years. Now he's famous, he's a big star, he loves someone else, and doesn't want me anymore. My life doesn't have any meaning. I want to die for him.' No one knew what was going on – then this guy lit a match and set himself on fire. The people around tried to save him and put out the flames. He was badly injured, but luckily he didn't die."
Beibei sighs again. "As soon as this happened, everybody knew that Little Bench was gay. China is not like England, where they can easily accept openly gay pop stars like George Michael and Elton John. After this happened, our office exploded. The phone didn't stop ringing, journalists were following Little Bench every day. He was in hiding, like a criminal. The most infuriating thing is that my little lover Iron Egg, he's so underhanded. To make some money, he went to the newspapers with some inside information he learned from me. He was ruthless. After this rotten business got out, the other cities all canceled Little Bench's concerts. His CD sales have plummeted. I tried calling Iron Egg, but he's switched off the mobile phone I gave him. That traitor! He betrayed me, then he abandoned me!"
Lulu joins in, cursing. "In the past, even punks had a little loyalty. Now loyalty is something that belongs in a museum. Modern kids like Iron Egg are too shrewd. They submit to whatever hand feeds them. No sense of Confucian-style loyalty and filial piety whatsoever!"
"Still, it was my own stupidity." Beibei begins to make a self-criticism. "Actually, I knew exactly what kind of a guy Iron Egg was. But I always thought, we've been to bed together so many times, there must be at least a little emotion. I never thought he would stab me in the back. But that's exactly what he did to me. He's so cruel. Really, to be betrayed by the person who makes love to you, by someone so close to you, is the cruelest thing. And this sort of cruelty falls upon me repeatedly. Why do I have such lousy luck in love?"
In fact, Beibei knows that her young lovers just love her money, but she can't go on living without lovers after her husband cheated on her. She needs to feel loved even though that love is only temporary and bought with her money. Beibei is in her midthirties, but she feels like an old woman, full of insecurity, needing the company of young men to gain confidence. "Is this the fate of women who stop believing in love?" she asks Lulu and me.