I stood up to kiss him again, then pulled in close to his ear and whispered, “I’m crazy about you. Whatever you want to do . . .”
These words worked. All at once Lan Yu’s demeanor changed and I could feel the tension melting away from his body. Then he did something that surprised me. Slowly and somewhat awkwardly, he fell to his knees and began sucking me off. I grabbed the back of his head and pushed in deeper, slow but firm, then winced in discomfort when his teeth scraped against me. He didn’t seem to know exactly what he was doing but I didn’t care. I was just happy that we were together. He blew me for a while, then stood up again, completely out of breath. Kissing me feebly, he wrapped his arms around my neck once more.
We took a shower after we came, then lay back down on the bed. Unlike the first time we had made love, this time he stayed awake after sex and we started talking. We were under the blankets, me on my back, him propped up on an elbow so he could look at me. I told him to stop calling me Director Chen and to use my given name, Handong. It means “Defend Mao Zedong Thought.” I began to tell him some things about myself. He listened intently, looking cheerful and relaxed and periodically asking questions.
“When you do business do you lose money sometimes?” he asked. It struck me as a naive question, but I didn’t mind.
“Of course,” I replied patiently. “But as long as you make more money than you lose, it’s okay.”
The mention of money made me recall a story I thought Lan Yu would find amusing. “This one time I ordered a big batch of lollipops from some guy in Spain for the Lunar New Year. His shipment was late—I mean, it came way after New Year’s, so none of my buyers wanted it anymore. But it was a huge order, and after a few weeks we had a couple hundred kilos of candy that would be melting soon. So after a week or so I decided I might as well just give it to my employees. My god, there was a period of time when every single employee had a lollipop sticking out of their mouth!”
“You can eat candy at work?” Lan Yu’s eyes widened. He seemed to have missed the point of the anecdote.
“If it doesn’t interfere with your work performance, sure.”
He sat in silence for a few moments, apparently pondering what I’d just told him. “Does it bother you that you don’t use what you studied in college?” he finally asked.
“No. I knew I picked the wrong major,” I said. “I hated literature. I should have pursued a business major—management or something like that.”
“But even though you didn’t, you still get to be the boss now,” he said cheerfully.
“Oh, I’m pretty much just muddling along,” I said, trying to sound modest. I got up from the bed and walked to the other side of the room to grab a Chunghwa from the pack on the table. I lit it and turned around to face Lan Yu. He was still lying in bed, naked under the blankets and watching my every move. When I looked at him he averted his eyes, laughing softly as if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. I took a deep drag off the cigarette. I needed to clarify a few things before we went any further.
“Look,” I began. “You and I were brought together by fate. The only problem is that you’re so young I feel guilty for even getting to know you. In the West this kind of thing isn’t a big deal, but in China we can be prosecuted for hooliganism. What I’m trying to say is you have to be discreet. This is between you and me. Don’t go talking to other people about it. Also, there are no strings attached, okay? With this kind of thing, if we want to be together, fine. But if it doesn’t feel right for either of us, then it’s time to move on.”
Lan Yu listened with absolute concentration. I was trying to figure out how much I needed to spell out and how much he would be able to figure out on his own. I continued.
“The truth is, if two people get to know each other too well, the whole thing starts to get embarrassing. I mean, two guys!” I laughed. I was trying to give him the hint that I didn’t want him taking the whole thing too seriously. He continued staring at me like some kind of schoolgirl in love for the first time, but said nothing.
Lan Yu and I saw each other a few more times after that conversation, but it never progressed to anal sex. I didn’t want to pressure him, and besides, I knew that it would only be good if we both wanted it. I’m patient by nature and, in fact, the suspense only compounded my interest in him. He never asked for money or talked about his financial situation, and I never inquired. One time, though, I asked Liu Zheng to give him a call to find out if he had enough money for the semester. Liu Zheng reported that between financial aid and tutoring gigs, Lan Yu was fine.
He really was stunning to look at. Rapidly acquiring the seductive charm of a young man, his only shortcoming was his appalling attire. His clothes weren’t even up to speed with what Beijing guys were wearing in those days, and that wasn’t saying much. So when my ex-lover Min went to Hong Kong—we had stayed friends—I asked him to pick up a dozen or so articles of clothing in a specialty store that carried designs for young men. Beijing didn’t have those kinds of boutiques yet.
It was after Min came back to Beijing that things with Lan Yu got ugly. One night when Lan Yu was over I told him to go look in the closet where I’d hidden the clothes from Hong Kong. He opened the bags and looked inside, then mumbled something I couldn’t make out. That was it—not so much as a thank you. The following morning he got up at six, saying he had class at eight. I offered to give him a ride, but he said not to bother, that taking the bus was just as fast. When I asked him to take the clothes with him, he hesitated for a moment, then briefly rummaged through the bags before pulling out a pair of jeans and a bluish-gray jacket. “I’ll get the rest later,” he mumbled. He seemed to be speaking more to the closet than to me.
I sat up in bed watching this scene in amazement, asking myself whether Lan Yu was turning out to be more trouble than he was worth. This was only the fifth or sixth time I’d seen him but already I was beginning to notice a kind of aloofness about him. Something fastidious, difficult to please. An irritating indifference, not just with the clothes, but in general. Most of all, I was bothered by his failure to appreciate me. I began wondering whether I wanted to see him again.
I tried falling back to sleep after Lan Yu left but couldn’t. When I finally got out of bed at nine, I went to the office, where I told Liu Zheng and my secretary that if Lan Yu called I wasn’t in. Fortunately, I hadn’t given him my cell phone number.
Days passed and we had no contact. I thought about calling him, especially when I was horny—which was often—but I always resisted.
In December I had to go to Czechoslovakia for business. I wasn’t eager for the trip because I hated flying—my friends used to joke that I was an old man who needed to catch up with the times—but I ended up going through with it, in part because I was going stir-crazy in Beijing. Before leaving for the trip, I finally broke up with Hao Mei, whose big ass was getting to be like candy to a child: eat too much of it and you get sick. When I told her it was over she said little in response. She had never been the kind of girl who liked to argue. Ironically, her silence only made it that much more difficult to dump her.
I stayed in Czechoslovakia for six days, signing contracts, meeting with associates, and handling some goods that had been detained in customs. I had planned on staying a couple of extra days to see if I could meet some Czech guys, but I was terrified of diseases, which I knew were so common in Europe, and ended up getting cold feet at the last minute. That’s when I decided to do something bold. I saw my associates off when they returned to China, then flew to Hong Kong, where I spent a few weeks. I was more comfortable there than in Europe. In Hong Kong I was adept at navigating the city’s pleasure-seeking underbelly.
In mid-January I flew back to Beijing. I hadn’t forgotten about Lan Yu, but I didn’t mention him to Liu Zheng or to anybody else.
The New Year came unusually late that year. By the end of January, my employees were getting antsy and counting the days before the weeklong holiday, which was
n’t due to arrive for almost three more weeks. Business was slow, and I often sat at my window watching the festive atmosphere outside.
Beijing. A city of contrasts. Clean and orderly but always with a pervasive bustle of activity. Children bundled up in scarves and thick padded gloves stomped through the snow carrying hot, steaming rows of candied hawthorn fruit on wooden sticks. Grown-ups rushed headlong into the wind, clutching at their collars to cover their throats. Everywhere you looked, students and migrant workers bustled in the street, carrying little bags or struggling with big ones as they traveled here and there for China’s most important holiday.
I shut my office door and returned to the window, where I looked outside and saw two tiny snowmen perched on the hood of a car. They were about as high as a ruler and had little eyes and mouths made out of twigs and rocks. A smashed up cigarette butt stuck out of one of their faces; the other had a little red ribbon tied around its neck. It was hard to tell if they were supposed to be two men or a man and a woman. I leaned back into my chair, absorbing the serene snowy scene outside and thinking: Lan Yu must be getting ready to go home right now.
Five
“I saw Lan Yu this morning,” Liu Zheng said matter-of-factly as he handed me a stack of paperwork. I had returned from Hong Kong just the day before. The announcement came out of nowhere.
“What? Where?” My heart jumped.
“You know the company Fan Haiguo started up near Zhongguan Village? He’s working over there.” Zhongguan Village was Beijing’s hi-tech district. Everyone called it China’s Silicon Valley.
“That’s strange,” I said. “Wouldn’t he have gone home to celebrate the New Year with his family?”
“Apparently not.”
“Did he see you?”
“No,” he replied. “I was driving past Fan’s shop and saw Lan Yu carrying a box inside. I think he’s doing computer installation or something. I’m not sure.”
“Has he called here?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He’s called at least twenty times. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think you wanted to know.”
I leaned back in my chair and laughed, my eyes narrowing impishly. “What does he say when he calls?”
When Liu Zheng saw I wasn’t rankled by his news, he laughed too. “He just asks if you’re here and that’s it. Hey, wait a minute. I thought you were through with him! Are you playing some kind of game or what?”
“Now, there’s an idea!” I said, laughing. “A game! Why don’t I swing by Fan Haiguo’s shop to see if any of his employees want to play a game?” I was laughing even harder at this point, but didn’t tell Liu Zheng what game I would be playing. I wasn’t sure myself.
Fan Haiguo was working in the back of his shop when I entered. I was curious to know where he had found the smuggled computer parts he would have needed to get his business off the ground. But at the same time I didn’t particularly feel like wasting time chatting with him, so my eyes darted around the room the instant I walked through the door. I was looking for Lan Yu.
“Do you need a computer, sir?” A young shop attendant greeted me.
“I’m just—I have some business to talk with the owner about.”
When the attendant realized I was there for his boss he didn’t ask any more questions.
Just as I was about to send the attendant off to look for Fan Haiguo, I heard the foul language of some typical Beijing punk bellowing in the back room.
“What the fuck are you doing with that monitor? Open your fucking eyes and learn how to do your job!”
“The boss told me to put it here.” It was Lan Yu. His voice was calm and steady, but very firm. This was the first time I’d ever heard him argue with someone.
“Just put it over there. And move this box.” Now it was Fan Haiguo himself, intervening in the quarrel.
“Stupid cunt,” the punk muttered under his breath.
Lan Yu looked at the repugnant coworker, but didn’t say anything. He placed the monitor on a table and was about to pick up a box when he saw me. He froze, then smiled.
Fan Haiguo was still spitting out orders to his employees.
“You two,” he said to Lan Yu and another employee with wire-rimmed glasses, “move these boxes. How am I supposed to get through here when they’re piled up like this?” When Fan Haiguo turned around and saw me standing in the doorway he broke into a wide smile. “Brother Chen! What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in a while!”
“I come with business,” I said in a mock serious voice. “You interested?” I peered over at Lan Yu out of the corner of my eye. Obediently he carried out Fan Haiguo’s orders, but threw excited glances in my direction every few seconds. He was happy to see me!
Fan Haiguo and I talked for a while about some Japanese computer components I pretended to be interested in buying. Then I said goodbye and turned around, noting with amusement the bewilderment on Fan Haiguo’s face. He must have been surprised I’d gone all that way just to talk about a purchase, especially when I could have called. Just before stepping outside, I threw Lan Yu a look that said “meet me outside” and gestured toward the door. His eyes followed my finger and he saw my dark blue Bimmer parked on the opposite side of the street.
I sat in the car waiting. Waiting, and excited. Ten minutes later, Lan Yu came running out of the shop and jumped into my car.
“I was afraid you’d already left!” I heard joy in his voice.
“I was just passing by,” I lied. “I had some work to do in the area but I’m finished now.” Even I thought it sounded like bullshit. “Hey, so you work at Fan Haiguo’s,” I continued. “Aren’t you going home for the holiday?”
“This year me and another guy from school are staying in the dorm,” he replied. “He’s from Hainan Island. Our vacation isn’t even long enough for him to make the trip there and back, so he’s not going home to visit. Being from Xinjiang, it’s the same with me.”
We sat in the car quietly for a few minutes before I broke the silence.
“Did your boss say you could leave work?”
“I asked him but he said no,” he laughed. “I told him I had something important to do, but he went into a tirade, so I told him I quit!” Lan Yu paused for a moment. “You know, Beijingers have such bad tempers. They’re so arrogant, and they really bully people from other parts of the country.”
“Hey, what are you trying to say?” I laughed. “I’m from Beijing!”
“Yeah, right!” he laughed. “You told me you came here for college!” He had a good memory.
I burst out laughing. I wasn’t going to confirm or deny a thing. The old saying crossed my mind: You can’t fool youth! I started the car and we drove out of Zhongguan Village.
“Hey, can we swing by campus for a minute?” Lan Yu asked as I turned at an intersection. “I want to get out of these dirty work clothes.”
I looked at the cheap cotton-padded black jacket he wore. He had a point. It was filthy.
“Cars can only enter through the south gate,” he continued. “You know where that is?”
“Nanda and Huada are practically next door to each other. How could I not know?” Although I hadn’t attended Huada, I had been there a number of times and was familiar with the area.
The Huada University campus was quite large, but it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Nanda. I entered the south gate and drove toward Lan Yu’s dormitory building. If it had been any other time of year, there would have been students coming and going, carrying backpacks and laughing and chatting as they walked or rode their bicycles to class. But it was time for the New Year, and the entire campus was deep in the slumber of the weeklong vacation.
I pulled up to the entrance of building number eight, and Lan Yu jumped out of the car and ran inside. When he and I had first met, I thought he was making everything up, that he was just some migrant worker from a small town who’d concocted a story about being in college. And yet there I was, parked outside his dorm room at one of Chin
a’s top universities. This was the final confirmation I needed to see that he was definitely telling the truth. Meanwhile, if there was anything he chose not to share with me, rather than lie about it he just kept his mouth shut. There weren’t a lot of people like that. I thought about myself and my own behavior. Of every ten sentences that came out of my mouth, nine were bullshit. Then again I’m in business, I rationalized. You’ve got to screw people if you want to get ahead.
When Lan Yu came out of the building he was a completely different person. A pair of jeans hugged his thighs and he wore the same bluish-gray jacket he’d pulled from my closet the last time I had seen him. The jacket was open, causing the zipper pull tab to sway back and forth, revealing a dark brown interior lining, as he quickly made his way back toward me. I watched him from the car, vaguely wondering what had happened to the white jacket he wore the first few times I had seen him. I could tell from the tiny beads of water clinging to his forehead and eyebrows that he had washed his face. I gripped the steering wheel and my dick got hard.
“I can’t wear this on campus,” he said, jumping into the car. “Students here don’t dress this way. Some Japanese exchange students actually came up to me the other day and spoke to me in Japanese!” There was a vague sound of embarrassment in his voice, but also an unmistakable hint of pride.
Beijing Comrades Page 6