Chan Koonchung - The Fat Years

As soon as I reached the east gate, I knew I was out of luck. The surrounding apartments had all been torn down to build office towers. The Five Flavors was gone, the All Sages Bookstore was gone, too, so I left without a backward glance. I decided to walk over to the Photosynthesis Bookstore in the Wudaokou district and browse around. It was better than nothing, and I could kill some time having a cup of coffee. This used to be the rock-music center of Beijing’s Westside, with quite a few performance venues, but I hadn’t followed those guys in recent years and didn’t know if there were any venues left. On Chengfu Road just before Wudaokou, I passed by a restaurant and then felt like I’d missed something, so I stopped. Turning back, I saw that the front was extensively decorated. The place was simply called Five Flavors, with no indication whether it was a Chinese restaurant, a Western restaurant, or some kind of club. I decided to go in and investigate.

The inside was also elaborately decorated, though the tables and chairs were quite ordinary. There was a stage that could just about accommodate a four-man rock band. The front hall was empty, but I heard the sound of a loud, resonant, and very familiar voice ringing out from the back room. I drew the curtain and marched in. “Big Sister Song!” I called.

“Lao Chen!” Little Xi’s mother recognized me instantly.

“I came to see you, Big Sister Song.” It felt a little hypocritical saying that.

“It’s good to see you after all this time!”

She picked up a room-temperature bottle of Yanjing beer and led me into the front hall. “It’s so great to see you, Lao Chen, I’ve really missed you.”

I felt a little ashamed that I’d lived in Beijing for so many years and had never come to see the old lady. “I ran into Little Xi last week,” I said.

Big Sister Song suddenly lowered her voice. “You should talk to her, try to get her to stop all her antics.”

“I only ran into her briefly at a bookstore. Will she be coming over?”

“Definitely not.”

“But do you have her cell phone number so I can give her a call?”

“She doesn’t use a cell phone.” Big Sister Song kept her eye on the door as she spoke. “She’s on e-mail. She spends all her time arguing with people on the Internet, and she keeps changing her address. I wish you’d talk to her.”

I figured dropping her an e-mail would be better than not being able to reach her at all.

Big Sister Song stood up purposefully. “I’ll get you her new e-mail address.”

“There’s no rush, you can get it later,” I said rather insincerely.

“I’m afraid I might forget.” And she hurried off to the back.

Big Sister Song is still so gracious, I thought, an old-style Beijinger.

At this point, a young guy walked in. He was the kind of young guy who would have all the girls chasing him — tall and muscular like an athlete. He was wearing white high-top sneakers. There is so much dust in Beijing that most men don’t wear white sneakers. He looked me over very confidently like he wanted to know who I thought I was, but then he said politely, “Hello. Are you …?”

“I’m … a friend of Big Sister’s.” The penny dropped. “You’re …” I was going to say “Little Xi’s son,” but for some reason I didn’t.

“Grandma!” The young man greeted Big Sister Song.

“Hey, you’re back. This is my grandson. This is Master Chen.”

I acted surprised. “Your grandson!”

“Master Chen, I’m Wei Guo.”

“Pleased to meet you. What a handsome young man you are.” We shook hands. I remembered that when I’d last seen this boy over ten years ago, Little Xi had told me he used her maternal surname, Wei.

“Master Chen is Taiwanese and an old customer,” Big Sister Song said about me.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“He used to come to the old place,” Big Sister Song explained. “Master Chen hasn’t been in Beijing for years.”

“Big Sister, I live in Beijing now.”

Wei Guo didn’t ask me what district I lived in. Instead, he asked, “What do you do, Master Chen?”

“I’m a writer.”

This seemed to pique his interest. “What do you write?”

“Everything, fiction, reviews, criticism …”

“Criticism about what?”

“Food, drink, entertainment, cultural media, business management …”

“And what do you think about China’s current situation?”

This was turning into a cross-examination, so Big Sister Song broke in. “Stay here for dinner!”

“I’ve got something on tonight — maybe next time, Big Sister!”

“You two keep talking,” she said and went into the back room.

Wei Guo looked at me with a very steady gaze that bordered on intimidation.

I wanted to know why Little Xi said she could not talk to her son, so I said quite deliberately, “Today everybody says that no country is as good as China.” Little Xi had said this would sound like something her son might say.

“That’s right, quite correct. Ji Xianlin said the twenty-first century is the Chinese century.”

I decided to tease him a little. “Well then, what do you intend to do in this Chinese century?”

Most young people would act a little bashful before answering such a question, but Wei Guo did not hesitate. “Right now I’m in the Faculty of Law at Peking University. After I graduate, I’m going to take an exam to become a government official.”

“Do you want to be an official?”

“Yes, I do. The country needs talent.”

“Wei Guo, if you could choose, which ministry would you like to join?” I remembered Little Xi mentioning the Central Propaganda Department, and so I wanted to sound him out.

“The Central Propaganda Department.”

I hadn’t expected him to be so frank.

“Of course, one can’t just join the Propaganda Department, but it’s my ideal choice.”

“Why the Propaganda Department?” I persisted in this line of questioning.

“The people cannot rely just on material power; they have to have spiritual power, too, for the people to be united. Hard power is important, but soft power is equally important. I think the Propaganda Department is vital, but it’s not doing as well as it could; it could do even better.”

“How could it do better?” I asked. He seemed to have it all down pat.

“For example, they don’t understand the Internet and netizens well enough; they don’t really know about the trends in national youth culture. I could make a real contribution in these areas. I’m studying law and I could provide solid legal backing for the Propaganda Department’s policy decisions. That would contribute to the state’s ‘rule of law’ policy. Of course I’m still young and I have my immature and romantic idealist side — but I think the Department is very romantic and idealistic.” He began to look a little embarrassed.

“Romantic? Idealistic? What do you mean?”

“You’re a writer, you should know. The Propaganda Department guides the spiritual life of the entire nation.”

I begin to tire of this topic. “Do you ever have live gigs here?” I asked, gesturing toward the stage.

“New bands and some community groups play here every night. I gave Grandma the idea. All sorts of young people come here, and that gives me a chance to understand what they’re thinking and doing. If you don’t do any survey work, you don’t have any right to talk about anything.”

“In a place like this you’re going to have some bad elements mixed in with the innocent kids. Won’t that influence your future?”

“You underestimate our Party and our government. Everything is under the Party’s and the government’s control; they know everything.”