Tash Aw - Five Star Billionaire

She turned around. There was nowhere to sit except those chairs in the middle of the room, like two small islands in the middle of a cold, cold ocean. It did not seem as if anyone lived in this apartment, and Phoebe suddenly thought, Maybe it is a pretense; maybe this place is not really his after all; maybe I have been duped.

She walked over to the aquarium. It looked like a painting from afar, the rocks and coral in it arranged like mountains in an old watercolor landscape. When she came close to it, she saw two streams of fine bubbles rising from the gravel bed, the only movement she could see. There were no shoals of fish in the tank, no waving mermaids. She pressed her face close to the glass and peered between the rocks — she saw the tip of a long feathery tail but could not make out a body.

“There used to be loads of fish, but they all died,” Walter said, startling her as he walked across the apartment. He stood next to her and tapped the glass firmly with his knuckle. “But this one’s still hanging on in there.”

A long oval-shaped fish wriggled out of the rocks and drifted for a few seconds in the open water as if it were lost. It had markings like ink spots on its side, a large stain on its tail in the shape of a wide-open eye, and long tendrils that trailed from its gills. Then it dived again, darting to the bottom of the tank to hide behind a piece of coral.

“That’s not a sea fish,” Phoebe said. “It’s a tropical fish from ponds and streams.”

“Yes, I think the tank is heated,” Walter said. “Are you an expert on fish? You sound very knowledgeable.”

“No, I just know that fish because it’s really common in the ponds around where I grew up. The boys used to catch them and sell them to the aquarium shops in town.”

“In Guangzhou? I didn’t know there were any ponds left that were unpolluted enough to have fish in them!”

“Yes. In Guangzhou,” Phoebe said. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass, hovering against a background of coral and bubbles and blue-tinged water. And she thought, It is so obvious I am lying. I have the expression of a liar.

“Right, Guangzhou,” Walter said. Phoebe could tell he was smiling, even though his reflection was watery and dim. “You know, you’re unlike any Guangzhou girl I’ve ever met — you’re funny.”

“Listen,” she said, “it’s getting a bit late now. Do you mind if we have a drink here?”

“Sure,” Walter said, shrugging. She could see that he had a mobile phone in each hand. “I don’t mind either way. It’s just you seemed very keen on that jazz bar.”

Looking down at her feet, Phoebe smiled and then raised her eyes to meet his. It was a technique she had learned from a book. It gave her a seductive look that men found irresistible. She had practiced it in front of a mirror and then with Yanyan until they both agreed that she had fully mastered it. “But you haven’t given me a tour of your apartment yet. It’s so, so … big and impressive.” She reached forward and, with one finger, lightly touched the top button of his shirt, close to his collarbone. His face reddened suddenly, changing color rapidly, like a chameleon. Phoebe thought, He is probably taking Viagra or some kind of sexually stimulating drug; that’s why he blushes so easily.

“Of course. What would you like?” said Walter as he walked to the kitchen. “Tea, coffee? I don’t know if I have herbal tea.”

Phoebe followed him through the doors into the kitchen. “Do you have cognac? I like Hennessy X.O. Or whiskey. I am in the mood for something strong .”

Walter opened a cabinet, but it was empty. “Sorry, I don’t spend much time here, so I don’t know where everything is.”

Phoebe joined him in searching for some glasses. She opened a cabinet filled with plates. None of them matched — they were all different kinds, cheap plastic ones mixed in with porcelain and china. Nearly all of them were marked with some brand or another — Nescafé, petrol, cornflakes, soy milk, Horlicks — the kind of thing you get for free if you cut out enough vouchers and collect them over several months before sending them off to the address on the back of the packet.

“Found the glasses,” Walter said. He produced two crystal tumblers, but Phoebe could see that the cabinet was also full of cheap plastic mugs. One of them had a picture of a cartoon movie character on it. She had been to see the film in Guangzhou more than a year ago, but she could not remember its name.

As he poured cognac into the glasses, she said, “Do you live here on your own?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “No one would want to live with me.” He chuckled softly, but he was not smiling. Phoebe did not know whether it was meant as a joke; she did not know if she should laugh.

“Everything here is yours, then?”

“Yes — there isn’t much, though, just stuff I’ve picked up over the years.”

With their glasses in hand, they walked back out into the living room. “Are you going to give me a tour of the apartment, then?” Phoebe said. She gave him the same head-down-eyes-up seductive look again. When she lowered her head, she could smell the strong perfume of the cognac in the glass. She took a sip and felt the alcohol burn her throat, flowing down, down to the base of her stomach.

“There isn’t much else to see; this is pretty much all of it. There’s only one bedroom, believe it or not. I had it constructed that way.”

Phoebe laughed. “I’m not allowed to see the bedroom?”

Walter shrugged. “If you must. But I warn you, it’s a real mess because I haven’t had time to clean up. My ayi doesn’t come on weekends, so the place is quite dirty. I didn’t think anyone would see it.”

He opened a dark sliding door and stood at the entrance. Phoebe peered inside — a large room with an unmade bed facing the window. On the bedside table and on the floor next to the bed, there were piles of books that looked intriguing.

“I wouldn’t go in if I were you,” Walter called out. “It’s really messy in there. I haven’t changed my sheets this week.”

But Phoebe was already walking across to look at the books. They were written in English and Chinese.

Get Rich in a Crisis

How to Be Classy

How to Be Successful: Tips from Billionaires

How to Meet Your Dream Partner

Broken Wings, Broken Dreams: How to Mend Your Inner Self

Phoebe pretended not to pay any special attention to these books; instead, she reached over and ran her hand over the rumpled sheet. “Mmm, you have very high-quality bed products.” She did not say that she owned one or two of the books herself, did not say that she had spent many hours standing in bookshops reading such books, that she had even seen some of the titles on the pavement stalls near Qipu Lu, that she remembered the time not so long ago when she couldn’t afford even those fake copies. At the bottom of one pile, she saw the book she had discovered in Guangzhou a long time ago, the book written by that elegant older woman who first inspired her to become the successful person she is today. It reminded her of how and why she came to be in Shanghai. Finally she remembered its title. It was called, simply, Secrets of a Five Star Billionaire .

“Most of the books aren’t mine,” Walter said. He was still standing by the door. “I borrowed them from friends.”

“There are a lot of them,” Phoebe said. She knelt down and tried to ease her favorite book from the stack. “Surely you haven’t read every one.”

“Of course not. Actually, I’m just using them for reference. You see, I’m writing a book myself, a book about how to be successful. Based on my own life experiences. Yes, that’s correct. This is why I need so many books, to see what my competitors are doing.”