"What about your parents?"
"They'd love to give all of their money to me if I married a Hong Kong man. It's my freedom that they want to buy. I won't sell myself short."
"So you're determined to leave."
CC isn't listening. She's admiring a woman's shoulder bag dangling off the back of a chair a few tables away.
"Niuniu, is that Prada real or fake?"
I say, "You said that it's not a matter of what one wears; it's where one wears it that counts."
"Yes. A real Prada can look fake here in China. But a fake Prada can look real in London. She should be walking in London now."
Listening to CC, I realize that CC really misses England, which is her home. China isn't.
Where is my home? I wonder. Ernest Hemingway says Paris is a movable feast. Can I carry my roots with me? Wherever I go, I make that my home.
99 Changed Yet Unchanged
To celebrate my birthday, my partner in crime, Beibei, has organized a dinner party at her newly purchased restaurant, China Planet. Beibei wants to turn the place into China 's Planet Hollywood. Her concept is to sell stardom. Her singers will often dine here, as well as bring along other stars. This will help attract ordinary customers who will come hoping to meet celebrities. Beibei is as smart in money as she is dumb in love.
Her unfaithful husband, Chairman Hua, is the first one to show up at the dinner party. I can tell that he comes straight from his lover's flat. Hua sits on the left side of Beibei. On the right side is Beibei's new young lover, Hai, a singer and the latest sensation and heartthrob among the teenage set. The three don't seem to mind the situation at all.
Lulu enters, trailing the seductive scent of Lancôme's Miracle. With her long straight hair, high heels, grace, and elegant style, she oozes sex. With six years of hysteria, three abortions, endless encounter sessions where she discussed philosophy with Beibei and me, shrinks costing thousands, and one fortune-teller, Lulu has finally left Ximu and is standing on her own feet. She is a best-selling author and a disciple of feng shui master Bright Moon.
Other guests include my family friend Weiwei, the knowledgeable slacker who claims to be China's last aristocrat; Lily, the Harvard M.B.A. who doesn't want her Chinese friends to know she had a black lover back in the States; Gigi, my acrobatics coach, whose professor husband left her for a lusty student who needed some "private tutoring"; lawyer Mimi and her model husband, Lee; Yi, the CEO of ChineseSister.com, who cochaired the online forum on Chinese beauty as seen through Western eyes; John, the gay guy from the Jeremy Irons Fan Club; and finally, Master Bright Moon, my colleagues Sean and Hugh, and painter Jia. CC doesn't come. She's back in England now. I miss her.
I arrive with a flourish. With my nails blackened, my lipstick a dark brown shade, and those hideous baggy trousers, I am making a fashion statement. I am the center of attention today.
What a comic life I have been living since coming back to China! My life has been so eventful. I have learned so much, yet so little. I am an insider as well as an outsider. I feel connected, yet isolated. I have changed, yet I remain the same. I have a sense of belonging, but also a sense of alienation.
"When everybody inside China is trying to get out, why do you decide to come back and stay?" Weiwei asks me.
I think for a second. "We Chinese no longer keep our desires hidden; that is what turns me on. I guess it makes bad girls like me feel like a good girl again," I say with a mouthful of chocolate mousse.
100 Discovery
The morning after the birthday party, I oversleep and don't go to work. At my courtyard home, the side where CC used to live is now empty. I walk around in the courtyard, and my thoughts jump constantly like the pieces on a chessboard. Those memories of America that I have suppressed for so long, that I have tried to put behind me, suddenly start exploding like firecrackers in my mind. I walk down the alley, my shadow following me.
"I spend every day working with other people's stories, finding stories, listening to stories, writing stories. Why do I suddenly feel so lonely?" I ask myself.
I feel that the storm in my heart is about to break. I'm anxious – and filled with longing.
I want to talk about myself. To whom? I think of my newly discovered bosom buddy.
I drive to Mimi's office.
I cut straight to the chase as soon as I see Mimi. "Mimi, are you free? Can we have a chat about love and stuff?" I say.
Mimi laughs. "Of course."
"We've known each other for some time. Could I hear your love stories? Not as a reporter, but as a friend," I say.
Mimi nods.
"Mimi, you are a person with stories, right?"
"What about you, Niuniu?"
"My story?"
"Yes."
"Of course I have stories," I say. "Perhaps to other people they don't seem like anything much, but to me, they have had a deep influence. I really want to tell you. But I'm such a bad storyteller when it comes to my own story. I guess I'm more a listener than a storyte ller."
The two of us sit by a window looking over the Avenue of Heavenly Peace, and as the traffic flows past outside, Mimi begins to speak:
"My most deep-rooted experience wasn't love, but hurt. I once hurt a man who loved me. I hurt him very deeply. At the time, my family sent my sister Wenwen and me to the United States. I went to graduate school, and she was in high school. We lived together, looked after each other. We were best friends as well as sisters. We had a deep affection for one another. Our family was always very close. Wenwen was extremely clever, always the best female student in her class, better than me. We all thought that she would end up going to Yale Law School. But it all changed, because a man appeared.
"I fell in love with this man. My little sister Wenwen also loved him. I thought I should look after my younger sister, so I bowed out. But perhaps that man loved me. Because I gave up, he stayed with Wenwen for awhile. He tormented her, then left her, and disappeared. Later, he found me. By then I was already married. He had changed. He was very depressed, heartbroken. Only then did I realize how much I had hurt him when I rejected him.
"Wenwen loved him so much she went a little crazy. She was one of those obsessive girls. After she was dumped, Wenwen quit school, started taking drugs, gave up on herself, and cut off contact with me. My parents were worried sick. Wenwen must have been deep in depression. She bought a gun – she wanted to die with him. When she saw him, she discovered she couldn't do it, but it was too late, because she had threatened him with a gun. She was arrested and went to jail. When she got out, she didn't love men anymore. She only loved women."
"Is she still in the States?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In Montana, with her girlfriend. Her girlfriend is an environmentalist. They do environmental work together."
"It sounds just like a movie. What kind of man was he?"
"It's very difficult to use words to describe him. He was the kind of person who could be laughing and chatting at the most desperate times. But he seemed destined to be a tragic character. I can't explain."
"What does he do?"
"He is an ophthalmologist."
"What was his name?"
"Len."
"Len?" As I repeat the familiar name, I nearly lose control. Tragic character, ophthalmologist, Len, could there be more than one man like this?
"Yes, Len. L-E-N."
"Where is he now?"
"We haven't been in touch for many years. A year ago, after Wenwen got out of jail, he phoned me once. He said he regretted hurting Wenwen, and that he had hurt another girl. But he could never find that other girl. He was extremely unhappy."