Qiu Xiaolong - A Case of Two Cities

When Chen discussed Tian’s invitation with others, no one had any objection. They were intrigued at meeting a prosperous overseas Chinese still interested in the literature of his country. With no special activity arranged for that afternoon, Pearl, the American interpreter-escort, did not insist on their dining in the hotel.

And in less than five minutes, Chen saw a tall man striding over and recognized him immediately as Tian, though they hadn’t seen each other for more than ten years.

“As our ancient sage says, there are three wonderful moments in one’s life,” Tian said, grasping his hand. “When one’s name appears at the top of the civil service examination. No more civil service examination today, but your high-ranking position counts. When one gets married with the candle of happiness illuminating the wedding room. I have just married a second time. When one meets an old friend in a faraway place. All apply to us. Isn’t today a perfect day?”

“You still talk like in the old days, Tian.”

“Now I’ve come here in the name of my company too. You have to give me face by condescending to dine with me. Every one of you, my respected masters.”

It was a banquet set in a magnificent Chinese restaurant. Tian had reserved a private room. At his insistence, the restaurant owner, too, came out to toast the “great Chinese writers.” To the pleasant surprise of everyone, Tian had also prepared his special present. Ten bottles of deep sea fish oil-each with a gold “Made in the U.S.A. ” label pasted on top-for each member of the delegation. An offer that made not only him, but Chen as well, immediately popular.

“It’s a popular product of our company. The best on the market. Please accept it as a token of our appreciation of your wonderful writings,” Tian said with undisguised pride. “I used to major in Chinese literature. I cannot express how I admire you. Deep sea fish oil will be good for hardworking intellectuals like you.”

“Thank you for your present,” Zhong said. “The fish oil will be good for my older wife.”

“You have to write a report about his pioneering business in the People’s Daily,” Shasha said with a giggle. “Good for his business.”

It was an impressive feast by any standard. The host and guests kept raising their cups. The restaurant owner brought out a bottle of Maotai as house compliment. “Drink to your hearts’ content. I’ve had it for over ten years. No fake products those days.”

It sounded like a not-too-subtle reference to the rampancy of fakes in present-day China. Still, everyone at the table cheered.

Tian made a passionate welcome speech, concluding with a couple of lines from Wang Wei: “‘Drink one more cup, my dear friend! / Out of the Yang Pass / to the west, you‘ll find / no companion of old.

“Now we are way out of the Yang Pass,” Bao commented, echoing from the well-known poem, “but we still have a good friend like a Tian.”

Because of the banquet, of the wine, of the fish oil, when Tian invited Chen to his home, no one had any objection, despite the delegation regulation against a member going out with a friend without an official approval. Several urged Chen to go.

Bao also said, “Enjoy yourself in the company of your friend. I’ll take care of things.”

“Anywhere you want to go,” Tian said as soon as Chen got into his car. “Anything you want to do. It’s your first trip here. Casino, club, bar, topless, bottomless. You name it.”

“I would like to go to your home,” Chen said. “To meet your young wife. And you may tell me your success story along the way.”

“It’s anything but a success story, Chen. But it’s a long drive, so I may as well tell it from the beginning.”

In the mid-eighties, Tian came to the United States to further his study in comparative culture. He made a career change, however, while working on his dissertation. Devastated by the divorce from his first wife, who saw no hope of his finding a job here, Tian started practicing acupuncture and herbal Chinese medicine. His studies in comparative culture were unexpectedly useful. His eloquent and frequent talk about the balance between yin and yang, about the mysterious interactivity of the Five Element System, about the omnipresent Way of Qi-all in English-prompted local newspapers to report on his “groundbreaking” medical work on the new continent. He was soon enjoying success among American as well as Chinese clients, who stood waiting in long lines outside. He began making herbal pills, which, too, proved to be popular with people who had no time or earthenware to prepare medicine in the traditional Chinese way. He then bought a run-down warehouse and turned it into a workshop for herbal medicine production. Because of the FDA regulations, he called the pills health products.

“But I don’t see how the deep sea fish oil came into your product line,” Chen commented with a smile.

“When the wheel of fortune turns, no one can stop it. You don’t even have to oil the wheel.”

“Fantastic, Tian. Tell me more about it.”

“I made my first trip back to China several years ago. I met up with Yan Xiong. He majored in French and lived in the same dorm building with us, remember?”

“Yes, he wrote his thesis on French symbolism.”

“He must have forgotten all about the symbols-except what stands for money in this materialistic age,” Tian said. “Yan is now a cadre in charge of export and import in Ningbo. He offered to collaborate with me on the health products-on the condition that he and his wife act as the exclusive agent.”

Tian then went into a detailed market analysis. As the economy in China improved, people became aware of the need for those health products. It was in line with the time-honored tradition of bu, the necessity of providing something beneficial to one’s yin and yang system. They did not believe, however, in the locally made pills. There were too many reports about knockoffs. The emerging middle class was willing to pay a couple of dollars more for a product with a “Made in the U.S.A” label.

“The Yans know the market, and they have the connection. One of my products, deep sea fish oil, was a huge hit. Natural omega in the depth of oceans, which sounds both mysterious and miraculous.”

“It’s true,” Chen said.

“My company has obtained several patents. The American customers are drawn to the part about the ancient Chinese tradition, and the Chinese customers, to the part about modern American technology. What an ironic joke!”

“It’s good that you take it as a joke, and laugh at it too. After all, a successful joke.”

“But how far have I moved away from the dreams I had in Beijing Foreign Language University? We talked about the value of life, about the aroma of newly printed pages, about the reflection of White Pagoda in the Northern Sea, about the bamboo music in the quaint teahouse. Now I am a businessman, reeking of copper coins all over.”

“How far have I moved, Tian? I didn’t read mystery novels then. Now I have translated several of them-for money. And I am a cop, like one prowling in those pages. In fact, I don’t know why I have come here.” Chen changed the subject: “You should have contacted me in Shanghai.”

“Well, the first time I went back, I heard a lot about your work. I thought it might not be so convenient for me to approach someone in your position. Then for the following trips, I was overwhelmed with business- including that of marrying Mimi.”

Tian couldn’t help being effusive at the unexpected reunion. There was no doubt about his sincerity. Still the same bookish, honest Tian as in their college years. It must not be easy for him to take a day off for an old friend, with so much business for him to take care of in L.A.