"In the same bed that they share with their wives? Not a motel or something? Don't you think it's an intrusion into the wives' territory?" I ask.
"That's exactly the point. I am like an invader. Society encourages us to be competitive! I hate losing. It feels so good that these smart men are willing to betray their women and come to me. It's called charm."
"Do you think they like you because you're so irresistible?" I ask.
"Well, I'm a modern liberal woman. I can give them the level of passion that their wives can't. In return, I get the uninhibited, carnal sex that I want," May May says proudly.
I can sense that May May believes totally in her unconventional lifestyle and her ability to entice men into bed. She considers herself superior to the wives because she has the fun and none of the work relating to marriage.
"May May," I ask, "do you think that the M.B.A.s' attraction to you comes from the fact that you're a plaything for them and they don't have to be serious with you. That they are merely on the hunt for another good time, a cheap thrill that they can brag about to their buddies?"
May May replies with a sneer. "So what, it beats having a bowl of instant noodles and renting a movie while home alone by myself. If men can brag about their conquests, why can't I?"
Her speech echoes that of Colorful Clouds.
"May May, do you know Colorful Clouds?" I can't help asking.
"Yes. I know of her. Both of us publicize our sexual adventures on a Chinese blog. I've got far more hits than she has. Apparently, she's a bore. Her pictures are ugly too. I have the talent and charisma. Plus, I believe I'm younger."
Just then, a good-looking couple comes into view. May May notices and says to me, "I wonder what she sees in him? When I find out, I'll give you all the details." May May starts to preen and adjust her clothing. She is about to enter another playground.
81 A Good Life Needs to Be Told
There is a regular get-together of some of the nouveaux riches in Beijing. Often, the less rich – the reporters, models, and authors – are invited to party with them as their guests.
Just as Hollywood celebrities sometimes need groupies and paparazzi to create certain scenes, the new Chinese bourgeoisie need those who are not quite as rich to be their listeners. It is simply not good enough to enjoy the good life in private. A rich life has to be told and retold, and then gossiped about.
On a Tuesday evening, just a regular hot summer's day in Beijing, Beibei and I attend a party organized by these parvenus in a house that is located in a discreet and well-manicured suburban neighborhood.
When we arrive, some investment bankers have already gathered to discuss plans while sipping Jack Daniels. Their long-term goal is to retire at forty-five and their short-term goal is to improve their golf games. Everyone agrees that their approach shots and their putting techniques could be better.
Apparently, this is all standard talk in such gatherings of the newly rich, and part of the game. The thinking is that the good life needs to be told, especially to those who are have-nots. The hangers-on play their part too. Their envy and attentiveness are all part of the same game.
An interesting conversation between two female authors gets the attention of both Beibei and me.
One of them is called Andrea. "My English lover has a ranch in New Zealand. I love to do my writing there."
The other female author named Yani raises one eyebrow. "Really? Then, we're neighbors! I write from my beach house in Australia. If we have an attack of writer's block, we can fly over and meet for coffee."
An attentive female listener who looks a bit unsophisticated and naive like a college student exclaims, "Wow, you guys are real international freemen – no, free women! So cool! It's my first time to meet such people. I'm honored."
The two authors' faces radiate pleasure, the pleasure of being admired and envied. Yani smiles at the listener. "Well, I might be an international woman. But it doesn't matter where I go, I always like China the best."
"I know why she likes China the best: only China can guarantee her an audience when she brags." Beibei says under her breath to me.
As we walk around, we hear more hilarious lines popping up from the newly rich and famous. Some are quite creative and subtle:
"My life has been crazy! Breakfast in Hong Kong, lunch in Singapore, and dinner in Beijing!" "I only eat fresh vegetables from my own garden." "I walk nine holes every day." And so on. Always, there are listeners who show great admiration and envy.
I spot a friend whom I haven't seen for ages. Immediately he comes over to greet me. His name is Kevin Chen. Like many of my childhood friends, Kevin is one of the best and the brightest of the generation born after 1970. His path is also quite typicaclass="underline" he graduated from the People's University with a degree in international finance and then went to Stanford to get his M.B.A. He currently works for AIG.
"How's life?" Kevin greets me.
"Not bad. You?"
"The usual. You know – making friends in Beijing, doing business in New York, living in Shanghai, shopping in Hong Kong, vacationing in southern France and the Greek Islands," says Kevin nonchalantly.
Beibei murmurs to me, "This is the second time I've heard him say that."
"I bet you get a lot of frequent-flyer miles!" I say to Kevin.
Kevin nods. "Yes, but I really do hate flying. Of course, I hate eating lobster more." He punctuates this sentence with a laugh, obviously thrilled to enter the game again.
"Remember when we were young, you said in a class that your biggest dream was to fly someday," I remind Kevin.
"Really?" Kevin seems not to remember.
"Of course that was a long, long time ago, when China was still poor and you were still called Kai Wan," I say with an impish smile.
82 Turnoffs
When CC, Beibei, Lulu, and I get together, we are eager to get an update on CC's first date with the guy we call S. CC has been talking for months on the Internet with S. She thinks S is attractive and intelligent, perhaps the right person for her.
"So what's the news with S?" As usual, the impatient Beibei starts probing.
"Well, we finally met, but it lasted only fifteen minutes," CC says with disappointment.
"Was he the same guy as in his photos? Or was he much older? Did he turn out to be ugly? Was he way shorter than you expected? Did he have as much hair on his head as he did in the photos?" I shower CC with questions.
"Yes, no, no, no, and no." CC shakes her head.
"Did he have yellow teeth that aren't shown in his pictures?" Lulu continues the inquisition.
"No. His teeth are like the model's teeth in a Crest ad."
"Did he say something rude to offend you?" I guess.
"No."
"Was he too aggressive? You know, fast with his hands? Did he try to take advantage of you?" I ask, wondering what could have been wrong with this man.
"Well, what happened? Fill us in," Beibei says eagerly.
"He passed wind ten minutes after we sat down. I know how to do it myself. I don't really need him to demonstrate it in front of me. So I left."
"I can't believe this guy was so rude. He should try at least to hold it in on the first date," I say.
"That's exactly what I thought. Everybody tries to look and act his best on the first date with someone he likes. If S didn't give a thought about passing wind on our first date, he really didn't care about what I thought of him," says CC.
"But I remember you told us that he's very educated and intelligent. I don't understand why he could be so lacking in manners at the same time," I say.
"I've had a similar experience," Beibei jumps in. "Once I had a date. The guy was humorous and funny, but the whole time he was telling the jokes, he had spinach in his teeth. He was making fun of others, but he looked funny himself. The image was so ironic that I had no choice but to leave him."