Part 14 (1/2)

”We should go to a karaoke bar sometime. I'll teach you how to sing.”

”Sorry, but I'm not interested in karaoke.”

”That's okay,” she said, smiling. ”I'm very interested in your America.”

”What about my America interests you?”

”Everything. I would like to go there.”

I did not like the way this conversation was going. ”It's very difficult to do that,” I said.

”I would like to live in your America,” she said. ”People there have more money than here.”

”There are many poor people in my America.”

”Not as many as there are here in Fuling.”

She had a point and I tried a different tack. I talked about how difficult visas were to obtain, and then our noodles arrived. I ate quickly and tried to think of what to do next.

”Ho Wei,” she said. ”You are very ke'aide ke'aide”-adorable. She said it in the best xiaojie xiaojie manner and I was certain that the others in the restaurant were listening now. manner and I was certain that the others in the restaurant were listening now.

”Your eyes are very pretty,” she said. ”I think you waiguoren waiguoren have prettier eyes than us Chinese.” have prettier eyes than us Chinese.”

”It's not true,” I said dumbly. ”Chinese are much prettier than waiguoren. Waiguoren waiguoren. Waiguoren are very hard to look at.” She took this as a compliment, smiling and trying to blush. I thought: Ho Wei, you are a jacka.s.s. are very hard to look at.” She took this as a compliment, smiling and trying to blush. I thought: Ho Wei, you are a jacka.s.s.

”I like to hear you speak our Chinese language, Ho Wei,” she said. ”It sounds very funny!”

I remembered how guys in college used to hit on the local au pair girls from Sweden with their accents and cluelessness. It was not a pleasant comparison, and I tried not to think about it.

We were leaving the restaurant now and the owner grinned knowingly as I paid. On the street Li Jiali took my arm and I stood there in pa.s.sive disbelief. A Fuling woman was touching me and we were right near the intersection of South Mountain Gate; everybody was honking at us, or so it seemed.

”I have to go now,” I stammered. ”You can't come with me. I am very busy today.”

”Next week is my birthday,” Li Jiali said.

”That's nice,” I said.

”I'll see you next week,” she said.

A cab swung by, horn blaring, and I smelled the hot breath of its exhaust. The sun was warm and now I was sweating. ”Goodbye,” I said, and at last she let me go.

TWO DAYS LATER, Li Jiali called and Ho Wei answered the phone. She asked if he would be at the teahouse on Sunday and he replied that he would. He was there every Sunday and there was no reason to lie about that.

After the phone call, I began to think once more about the possible complications of this particular aspect of my Chinese life, as well as the many ways in which Ho Wei was not capable of dealing with them. The simplest solution was to avoid going to the teahouse, but she knew I worked at the college and I did not want her to track me down there.

I knew that Li Jiali was trouble-she was far too forward for a Chinese woman, and either she wanted money or she was crazy. Adam and I had both had experiences with this in the first year. A freshman girl student had spent a couple of weeks lurking outside of Adam's apartment, and there was a middle-aged woman named Miss Ou who had pursued me more or less throughout my time in Fuling. Both of these women were clearly unbalanced, and undoubtedly they turned to us because we were outside the loop, just like them. That was at once the most interesting and most disturbing aspect of living in Fuling-as a waiguoren waiguoren you tended to attract a certain fringe element. It was possible to have a Chinese life, but that didn't mean it was a normal Chinese life. you tended to attract a certain fringe element. It was possible to have a Chinese life, but that didn't mean it was a normal Chinese life.

Last year those complications had at least been in English, which gave us a certain degree of control over the interactions. But now it was strictly in Chinese-I met the people on their terms. And I knew that Li Jiali's terms would be difficult to deal with; somehow I would have to convince her that she would not get whatever it was that she wanted. It was all Ho Wei's show and I didn't have much confidence in his ability to handle the problem.

The next Sunday, I delayed my trip to the teahouse as long as possible. I spent a long time chatting with Father Li, and then I wandered down to the blacksmith's shop and watched them make chisels. It was nearly noon by the time I made it to the teahouse.

The xiaojie xiaojie brought me tea; I was too nervous to make any foreign-devil jokes. She smiled and said that Li Jiali had been looking for me. I asked her if she knew the woman. brought me tea; I was too nervous to make any foreign-devil jokes. She smiled and said that Li Jiali had been looking for me. I asked her if she knew the woman.

”I know her, but she's not my friend.”

”Where does she work?”

”She works across the street, at the meifating meifating.” It meant ”beauty parlor,” but it also meant something else, and the xiaojie xiaojie, like everybody in Fuling, spoke the word with distinct scorn. Most of the city's prost.i.tutes worked in beauty parlors and now I knew for certain what Li Jiali did for a living.

I sat there and waited for her. One of the teahouse regulars came over and talked with me. Usually he was annoying, because he was a fanatical disciple of Falun Gong, which was a mixture of Buddhism, Taoism, and qigong qigong-style deep-breathing exercises. At first I had been interested in hearing him talk about Falun Gong, simply because I had never heard of it and the local followers seemed to believe with religious intensity, which was a rare pa.s.sion in Fuling. But soon the man came to see me as a potential convert, and he often telephoned and gave me long lectures on the benefits of Falun Gong. He especially liked to call at five o'clock in the morning, because it showed how little sleep he needed now that Falun Gong had entered his life.

It was another mess of Ho Wei's. I had no interest in any sort of qigong qigong-I was a runner and I disliked the idea of an exercise regimen that involved moving as slowly as possible. Of course, I might have been more interested in talking with the man if I had known that in 1999 the Communist Party would ban Falun Gong as a cult, persecuting its followers. But in Fuling I had no idea that the practice would someday become such a political issue, and I never would have imagined that the government would consider it to be a threat. As far as I was concerned, the main problem with Falun Gong was that it woke me up at five o'clock in the morning.

But today I was happy for any distraction and I listened to the man's lecture. A major sticking point between us was alcohol-his personal interpretation of Falun Gong stressed no smoking or drinking, and in a moment of desperation I had latched onto this as a way of discouraging him, explaining that there was no way I could ever give up beer. Like so many of Ho Wei's solutions, this was a serious miscalculation. It resulted in the man's making a full-fledged a.s.sault on the dangers of alcohol, week after week, in mind-numbing detail. His lectures began with the way alcohol settles in your cells, whereas Falun Gong seeks to bring everything into balance at the cellular level. There was more to this explanation, but I always lost the thread and sat there nodding as if I understood.

Li Jiali arrived while the man was lecturing. She smiled and sat down at our table. I didn't acknowledge her, and the man continued lecturing about alcohol and Falun Gong. All of the old bird men were watching.

She was dressed brightly again and she put on her makeup at our table. She dabbed rouge onto her cheeks, looking into a tiny mirror, and then she put on eyeshadow. In Fuling, few women wore much makeup, and even fewer painted their faces in public, which was a sign of loose morals. There were many signs like that-the clearest was for a xiaojie xiaojie to smoke a cigarette in public, because when a Fuling woman did that you could be almost certain that she was a prost.i.tute. Li Jiali was not smoking but the show of painting her face was bad enough. to smoke a cigarette in public, because when a Fuling woman did that you could be almost certain that she was a prost.i.tute. Li Jiali was not smoking but the show of painting her face was bad enough.

She tried several times to get my attention until at last I looked over.

”Ho Wei,” she said, ”your American name is Pete, isn't it?”

”Yes.” She had asked me this the first time we met, and now I regretted telling her.

”Pete,” she said. She p.r.o.nounced it ”Bee-do” and I didn't like hearing her say it; I saw no reason to bring that name into Ho Wei's mess. ”Bee-do,” she said again, ”did you bring me a gift?”

”No.”

”I told you it was my birthday!” Again this was the flirty xiaojie xiaojie voice and I felt my anger rise. voice and I felt my anger rise.

”In America we don't have that tradition,” I said.

”You don't give presents on birthdays?”

”We don't ask people to give us presents.”

It was one of the sharpest things Ho Wei had ever said, but it didn't faze her. I could bring her a present next week, she said. She asked if I would take her to lunch today, and I decided that I had had enough.