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By Root 4066 0

American dollars. Their income had been falling over the past two years, because of all the new competition, and they weren’t getting as much from the lost-migrant monologue that Liu gave every night. He had first learned that routine back in the late 1990s, from another troupe. The key to the story, he explained, is sentimentality: it has to be about somebody far from home, preferably with lost parents, or abandoned children, or wives who have strayed. Since the audience is mostly male, it’s important to include an unattainable female figure, which is why Liu ended his story with the dream sequence. He had two different versions of that tale: sometimes the orphan dreams of his mother, and other times he dreams of a lost wife. If it’s the mother, she appears with food; if it’s the wife, she carries a baby. Liu never figured out which story was more effective, so he kept both versions in his repertoire. They usually got an extra five or six dollars in the collection bowl, but a couple times in the past somebody had dropped in a hundred-yuan bill, about twelve dollars. “Maybe the story made them feel sad,” Liu said. “Or maybe they thought it was funny. I don’t know.”

After a few minutes the father returned from his recon mission. He carried a flyer with marks of doom: the China Mobile logo and the words “Free Performance!” The company was promoting a new phone card that charged only 0.18 yuan per minute.

“We should leave,” Liu Changfu said.

“It’s different,” his father said. “They’re a singing show. We’re a variety show.”

The tent had already been raised; the clouds had grown darker. While they discussed the matter, a half dozen men walked over from the China Mobile show. They were in their twenties, and they had the well-groomed look of city folk. They wore white button-down shirts, and around their necks hung big China Mobile ID tags. They didn’t seem angry—just curious and self-important and more than a little scornful. They faced off with the Liu men in the center of the trash-filled field.

“What’s your performance?” asked one of the China Mobile men.

“Acrobatics,” the father said. “All types.”

The China Mobile man motioned at the marquee with its bikinis. “Where are your women?” he asked.

“They’re working inside the tent. We have to finish preparing everything.” In truth, the women usually remained out of sight before a show, so potential customers wouldn’t realize that they weren’t nearly as pretty as the pictures on the marquee.

“You know that our show is free,” said China Mobile. “Nobody’s going to pay to come here if they can come to ours for nothing.”

“We’ll be fine. Ours is different.”

“You have to understand, our performance is really big,” said China Mobile, tossing back his head. “The total cost of our show is five thousand yuan!”

“We have good equipment,” the father said. “Our show is computerized.”

As evidence he pointed at a box that contained a battered Yamaha electric organ.

“How much is your admission?” asked China Mobile.

“Five yuan.”

“So cheap!”

China Mobile pointed at me. “What’s the foreigner doing here? Is he performing?”

“Yes,” the father said. “He’s with us.”

I decided to let this slide—thus far I had not spoken, and the China Mobile crew assumed that I didn’t understand Chinese. And I had to admire the father’s gall; he puffed out his chest and stood up to the cell phone boys. For a moment they fell silent, perhaps imagining a foreigner performing onstage with women in bikinis. But quickly they regained their swagger. “I think you’ll be better off going somewhere else,” China Mobile said.

“We’ll stay,” the father said loudly. “You draw your crowd, and we’ll draw ours.”

The young men shook their heads and walked away. The father’s expression was proud, unyielding; he stood with his arms crossed and watched the China Mobile crew leave. The instant they were out of sight he turned to his sons.

“We have to leave right now,” he said. “There’s no way we’re going to have any customers with those guys around.”

It took them half an hour to pack up the tent and get back on the road.