Fat Years - Chan Koonchung [13]
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