Fox Spirit 65 – Turning Points

夜采千星落， 风集万巷呼

传灯追晓日， 来证此生殊

          -陈立强

The night lets fall a thousand stars.

Through myriad streets a fresh wind screams.

The torch is passed; the dawn appears.

Now show this life can match our dreams.

             -Chen Li Qiang (2000)

December 1999

Sara

            “We have to decide about welcoming the New Millennium,” Scarlet Li announced. “Boss Wang has set aside some money from the office account so we can celebrate together in hope of our prosperity in the Golden Dragon Year. We must think together –any ideas?

            “We should go to the Great Wall,” suggested Chief Engineer Shi. “There’s going to be a display of fireworks going on all along the Great Wall to mark the Millennium, all the way from Jiayuguan in the northwest to the ocean at Laolongtou. This will happen only once in our lives – we should be part of it. We could rent a van and driver and go together.”

            “There will be crowds,” objected Trueheart Zhang. “We’ll be lucky to get even close to the Wall.”

                        “Still it’s once in a lifetime,” Shi persisted. “And this will be China together with the world – a great event.”

            “If it works!” scoffed Gateway Tang. “Haven’t you heard about the Millenium Bug? We won’t be able to drive to the Great Wall if all the traffic signals are affected. We’d do better to order a banquet and watch on television, if there is anything to watch.”

            “If the systems fail, then the television will also have problems,” commented Scarlet Li. “A banquet, it is true, can be relied upon.”

            “Mei wenti, no problem.” Shi was not deterred. “This is only a Western bug. The old Western systems are still running on ancient computer languages like COBOL. For once we have the advantage over America. We have no systems that are so old, so no problem with this bug.”

            Sara caught Storm’s eye across the room. They had talked of something special between them to celebrate the new millennium. He smiled and shrugged, palms open. He would follow her lead. She wanted to be part of the celebration, whatever it was. She had spent too much of what should have been Christmas feeling left out. She plunged into the discussion.

            “Even if we end up in a traffic jam,” she said, “it will be a once-in-a-lifetime traffic jam that we can all talk about together. We could bring the banquet with us in the van –it will be cold at the Great Wall at midnight in winter, so it would be good to have our own warmth.”

            Shi smiled in answer to her support. “I’ll look at getting a van and a banquet to go along. Manager Miller, perhaps you can bring your songs from the Children’s Palace. If we’re stuck in a traffic jam, you can entertain us.” Amid general laughter and comment, the plan was set.

            But what about Richie?  Sara abruptly remembered the new complication in her life. She couldn’t take a toddler along on such an expedition. And who would be willing to watch over him on such a night? Everyone in Beijing would be celebrating. Perhaps one of the mothers from the Children’s Palace would help, but she had not really gotten to know any of them well enough to ask such a favor. Maybe Scarlet Li knew someone.

            Sara had just begun to phrase a request when the phone rang at her desk. It was Silver Wing. “Sara, I’ve heard from my husband about the plan for the Millennium. I don’t like crowds, and don’t want to go to the Wall. Maybe I could take care of Richie for you so that you can enjoy the celebration?  He would be company for me.” Sara sighed with relief, even as she began the ritual “Oh, no, you are too kind, it is too much trouble.” She wondered in the back of her mind what other issues lay ahead in her role as foster mother, but resolved to think about it all later.

            The Millennium arrived as predicted. There was a traffic jam. The crowds were enormous. The night was cold. But the food in the van was delicious. The van was full of laughter. There was no sign of the Millennium Bug. And the fireworks were spectacular.

            The group from Rainbow Software linked arms and scrambled up the rough stairs to the highest tower on the wall, a half mile from the access stairs at Badaling. From there they could see the fireworks surging along the wall from west to east in the form of a golden dragon, accompanied by drums and cymbals at every tower along the wall. As the dragon grew larger and closer, the cold wind brought the tang of sulphur fumes from the exploding gun powder. The close-packed crowd was cheering, waving, swaying back and forth as they sang the “March of the Volunteers” and “The East is Red.” Sara did her best to hum along.

            Storm stood next to Sara holding her arm and protecting her from the press of the crowd. In the anonymity of the crowd she snuggled close, feeling the rough wool of his jacket against her cheek. His head was high as he sang the National Anthem. Around her the others from Rainbow Software were singing also, even self-conscious Gateway Wang. Sara was swept up in the pageantry. She thought of the last time she had heard such crowds, when they had been protesting the Kosovo embassy bombing. Then she had been on the outside, caged in her apartment for her own protection. Now she was part of the throng, sharing in their joy. Perhaps, after all, this could be her life. Then she felt the pull of someone’s gaze and, straightening, she caught Jerry Wang’s disapproving glance. Be careful. She must remember to be careful.

January 2000

Sara

            A few weeks later Sara received an unexpected call at her office from Ruth Cheng.  Her voice sounded tense and strained.

            “Duibuqi, Mrs. Miller, I hope not to trouble you too much.  Please, can we talk? Can we meet?  Perhaps we can have coffee?  There is a shop not far from your office? Not too inconvenient for you?”

            “But of course, Mrs. Cheng.  There is a Tully’s coffee shop a few blocks down the street from our office.  When would you like to meet?”

            “Perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, too short notice… I am just outside now, calling on my cell phone.  I hoped that you maybe have no plans for your afternoon break?  We could meet now?  In a few minutes, maybe?”

            Sara’s mind went blank, then started whirring. What could Ruth Cheng want to speak to her about on such short notice? They had exchanged only courtesy messages through Storm since that first dinner. But of course she must oblige Storm’s mother. “Of course, Mrs. Cheng.  I must finish one small task. I can be at Tully’s in fifteen minutes.”

            “Please do not rush your work because of my late request.  I will meet you at the Tully’s coffee shop.  I can see it.” 

            Sara closed down her computer and ran her fingers through her hair.  She reviewed the past weeks in her mind. She and Storm and Richie had spent a lot of time together, yes, but Storm was even more circumspect than before in his comings and goings because of Richie.  What could be going on?  Sara slung her bag across her shoulder, and told Jade that she was going out for a short break.  No use guessing, just go and find out.

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Poem by permission of Chen Li Qiang. My own translations

Fox Spirit 63 – A Family Forms

             独崇 玉烁儿，郁郁星眸亮。

            不作哭声， 作笑声，自顾莺鹤唱。

            皓腕饮晴琳，日照瑚珊样。

           争去人怀雀跃行， 挽臂秋千荡。

                                             -陈立强

 

                        As dear as polished jade,

                        My son, my treasure –

                        Eyes like stars, with light brimming,

                        Not with tears, with laughter sparkling,

                        Carefree as a small bird singing,

                        Clear and fine his white skin gleaming,

                        Lit with sun like coral seeming.

                        Joyful steps my heart entangling,

                        Hand in hand, two children swinging

                        I am a child, re-made

                                    To serve his pleasure.

                                                – Chen Li Qiang (2000)

 

Storm

            Storm had stayed away from the office for the first week after Sara’s return on various pretexts. He had seen Sara’s discomfort at seeing him and her son Mark together, so he held back his impatience until he knew Mark had returned to California. Sunday evening he waited in the light rain outside Sara’s door, hunching his shoulders against the damp chill. He saw Auntie Chen’s outline against the window opposite, but she did not call out to him or greet him. Had he become a non-person?  Would Sara also ignore his presence?  The child would still be there… would this be a barrier?  Thinking of Sara still made his heart quicken, his body stir… surely what they had was not broken. How could he endure to work in the same office if he was nothing to her?

            She was late coming from the office –but then, she would have to stop at the Children’s Palace for the child. How would she bring him home?  Perhaps she would be taking the bus, not her bicycle. If he waited at the bus stop then Auntie Chen would have nothing to remark – but if she had not taken the bus after all?  He shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if he should leave. Then he saw her. Sara was wheeling her bicycle over the curb; the child was in some sort of seat on the back. She hadn’t seen him yet. She stooped over to murmur something to the child. She straightened, looked forward, stopped. She had seen him.

            To Storm’s relief, Sara’s face lit at sight of him. She said nothing, but her lips trembled as she rolled the bicycle toward him. He reached to steady the bicycle as she put her key in the door. Together they pushed the laden bicycle into the entryway. The child, nodding and sleepy, whimpered as she released him from his belts and straps.  “You take him,” Sara said. “I’ll manage the bike.” She wheeled the bicycle into its place against the wall. The child whimpered again and the small arms slid around Storm’s neck. He felt almost a physical pull from the center of his being. A murmur of surprise escaped him as he held the child closer.

            “What is it?” Sara asked.

            “He has taken my heart.”

            “No.” She put one hand on his arm, the other on the child, smiling up at him. “Your heart must still be mine.”

            “It is still,” he smiled back. “My heart is big enough for both.”

            Dinner, a story, and at last the child was settled, quiet. Sara drew the screen around the crib and turned to Storm. His heart lurched again with a sudden surge of feeling.

            “You’re tired,” he said.

            “Yes”

            He began to turn away, disappointed, then

            “Yes…she repeated, smiling, reaching out to him

            Yes… sliding her cool hand around his neck

            Yes… pulling him toward her

            Yes. His arms went around her; he was kissing her face, her neck, her mouth

            “Hush, Richie will hear us.” She drew him to the bed.

            Afterward they lay together, warm under the blanket, the child still quiet behind the screen in the other room. She stroked his flank and spoke as if to herself, “Now we are three.”

            “Three?  You, me, and the child?” He stopped speaking then added slowly, “That has been my dream.”

            “Your dream? To have a child with me?”

            He nodded. “But I knew it wasn’t possible. Now that it has happened …”

            She smiled and put her finger across his mouth to silence him.

“Now we are three –and so much easier this way. No pregnancy, no birth pains, no midnight feedings.”

            He smiled back. “Still one problem: diapers!  How soon can that problem be solved?”

            “Ah, that was only for travel, in case of accidents. The flight was long and there were lines for the toilet. But he did fine.”

            “Ah, then he’s  perfect.”

Sara

               Monday it was raining. Sara’s phone rang. “Ni hao, Sai le.” It was Silver Wing. “You shouldn’t ride your bicycle with Riqi to the Children’s Palace – the weather is very bad. We’ll come to pick you up.”

            “No, you are too kind.” Sara protested. “We have to learn to take the bus.”

            “Not possible. Not necessary. We will be there in one half hour.”   

            “But…” The phone clicked off before Sara could argue further.

            Thirty minutes later came knocking at the door. “All ready?” Jerry Wang stood sheltered by a pink umbrella which cast an unnatural light on his cheerful face.

            “But wait… I’ll get the car seat for Richie.”

            “No problem, we have seat belts. Beijing doesn’t require a child seat. Silver Wing will take care of him.” He hustled Sara and Richie out the door.

            Silver Wing had stationed herself in the far back seat, her arms already outstretched to receive Richie. She took Richie from Sara, cooed in his ear, tickled his nose with her hair and secured him in the center of the back seat.

            Sara could not help checking in the mirror – Richie was still such a new responsibility. Silver Wing was talking, teaching Richie how to say her name. Richie was at his morning best, enchanted by the attention, responsive and giggling.

            Sara turned back and smiled at Jerry Wang. “Looks like Richie has found another new friend.”

            He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind. Silver Wing has been very lonely for a child. If you’re willing to share your grandson a little with her, it would be a great kindness.”

            Sara remembered Silver Wing’s smile as she took Richie with her into the back seat. And Jerry Wang seemed sincere; the barrier that had been between them was down. “Of course. Perhaps Silver Wing would like to take care of Richie sometimes in the evening.” Sara was thinking already about evenings with Storm, for beer and argument at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine Shop with Zhang, and after.

            At the end of the week Sara stopped at Storm’s cubicle. “Let’s go together on the bus to get Richie tonight. I can’t depend on Boss Wang’s kindness too much.”

            They had seldom ridden the bus together. Sara had grown used to being stared at, but now she thought there were more furtive glances from the other passengers than usual. Were they trying to figure out the relationship between one who was obviously a waiguoren and one who was obviously a local? She placed an arm behind him to grasp the hand rail, shielding herself from being jostled and from the appraising glances.

            On the trip from the Children’s Palace to Sara’s apartment, with Richie in Storm’s arms, the other passengers seemed even more curious, but Sara kept her eyes lowered and Storm seemed too absorbed by his young burden to notice.

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Poetry by permission of Chen Li Qiang. The translation is my own.

Fox Spirit 48 – Turn of the Wheel

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Fox Spirit 43 – Of Love and Marriage

August 1998

            “It’s been a year since you arrived. “ Storm reached across the table to touch Sara’s hand as they waited for Trueheart, Bright Liu and Jade Wang to arrive at the Jiu Jin Shan Wine Shop. “When I think of how I resented your coming, I have to laugh at myself. Surely my fate has given me my comeuppance.  Or perhaps it was a true warning – how could I have guessed that you would become my addiction?”

            “Addiction – I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Sara protested.

            “But it’s true. When I’m away I think of, wish for you, like Zhang with his cigarettes. He’s tried and tried to quit, with no success.”

            “And you – have you thought of quitting this addiction?”  Despite her light words, Sara felt a chill at the idea.

            “Only that one day, perhaps, I must go cold turkey, as you would say in English. And unlike Zhang, I won’t be able to find a new supply if my huli jing leaves. I will waste away.”

            “I don’t see you wasting away,” Sara replied, her voice sharper than she had meant. Had Storm been talking to his parents about her?  Were these thoughts placed in his mind by Ruth Cheng?

            Then she realized that Storm was laughing at her. “If you could see your face!  I was trying to say something pleasing to you, and you have your argument face on!  What word didn’t you like?”

             “’Addiction’, perhaps, has a more unpleasant echo in English than in Chinese.”

            “And yet, what other word would you use? 

            “I don’t want to be your addiction. I will be your friend, your support, your …” What word could she use?  “Lover” was still too fraught.

            “Are we having vocabulary lessons?” asked Trueheart as he slipped into the booth, followed by Bright and Jade.

               Sara bit her lip in frustration as the conversation moved on past her. Why could Storm not live in the now? Yes, she had talked about parting before, but when he spoke of doing without her it struck her differently.  How could he speak so casually? She shoved aside thoughts of the future and plunged into the discussion of plans for the evening.

            Later, after they returned to Sara’s two rooms, as they lay together on the narrow bed, the word she had been afraid to say slipped out from her as naturally as breathing. “I love you”. Sara lay still, holding her breath. Would he draw back? Would he be afraid she wanted some kind of commitment?

            Storm went on stroking her without a pause, but absently. He pulled back and gave her a quizzical look. “I love you” he repeated, using the exact same intonation. “Shuo zhongwen, you shenme yisi? What would the meaning be in Chinese?”

            Sara tried to explain, her Mandarin deserting her as she thought:  “Meaning is, you touch me and I feel more alive. I see you and a smile begins inside me. In a babble of voices I hear only your words. I think more of your good than of my own.”

            His expression didn’t change. She had expected he would smile, touch her again, show some acknowledgement of her feelings. She stopped speaking, confused.

            “So, in Western love, there is no idea of marriage?  You don’t speak of marriage.”

            Sara was shocked. That he should notice the omission. That he should mention marriage. That he should think that love and marriage were not linked in Western thought. That she had not linked them. She could think of nothing to say.

            Seeing her confusion, he laughed. “It’s all right. We don’t talk of marriage. But it’s strange. In China, to think of love without marriage, or marriage without love, is very old fashioned. We read Western-style novels and we hope to marry for love as in these books. But  I think now in the West  there is still another idea. Maybe putting love and marriage together is now old-fashioned to you. We will never be in step.”

            She had said she loved him. He had responded by talking about their different cultures. Sara didn’t know whether to be upset or amused. But at least he had not talked of the future.

Fox Spirit 33 – Meet the Gang

 

闹市求田舍， 轻阴寄远身。

一窗成四季， 鸡犬不相闻。

          -陈立强

Within the noisy city’s ebb and flow

A quiet haven bids me rest and stay.

In peace I watch the seasons come and go.

The nearest neighbors are a world away.

            -Chen Li Qiang (1999)

April 1998

Sara

            “Storm, you have changed your poem on the computer screen.”

            “Yes.” Sara saw his eyes glow with satisfaction as she stooped to read the new screen saver. “You see, my waiting has ended. Now I have my own moon and stars to fill the black night. This seems more right for now.” He touched her hand. Sara shivered with pleasure and tried to keep her voice level.

            “Is this poem also from your friend? It is so peaceful, so calm…”

            There was a noise of movement from Scarlet Li’s cubicle down the aisle. Storm’s voice became a little louder, a little more formal. “The poem is a reference to a classic poem by Lao Zi –do you know it?”

            His hand pressed more firmly against hers. Sara’s whole awareness was concentrated into the few square inches where their skin met. She took a deep ragged breath and carried the conversation forward. “No, I don’t know it – didn’t he write the Dao De Jing?” Storm linked his little finger into the gap between her ring finger and little finger and began to move it gently back and forth. Sara gasped; she had never thought of this space as an erogenous zone.

             Storm continued his explanation.      “In the Tao, Lao Zi talks about the perfect world, perfect society. If all is well ordained, then even if there are other countries, cities, even just neighbors within hearing, the people will be so contented that they won’t bother to go for a look. This is the feeling my friend writes of. This is the feeling…,” He broke off, looking at her.  She felt herself flushing and nodded, answering his look. There was another noise from Scarlet Li’s cubicle, the sound of a chair being pushed back. Storm took his hand away quickly; Sara straightened and pushed her hair back.

            “Thank you for your explanation,” she said formally, conscious of the thinness of the partition. Storm choked with laughter at the sudden contrast between the tone of her voice and what her touch had been communicating. Sara looked down quickly to keep from laughing with him at their shared secret and forced herself to leave his cubicle.

            An office love affair was new to Sara.  When Storm was in the office they were somehow drawn to each other. They kept meeting at the coffee pot, at the copy machine, in the aisle to and from their cubicles. Each time they somehow brushed together, like two magnets coming together with a click. Then there would be a dizzy rush of feeling and they would pull themselves apart, not allowing themselves to cling more. It was intoxicatingly, entrancingly difficult. Sara was half-drunk with desire with each encounter; how could the others in the office not notice?  Yet somehow no one had yet said anything. Sara knew that the magic of having a secret was part of the fever they were sharing. She prayed that  their co-workers would remain blind.  She could not quite escape the still inner voice that warned her of consequences, but the pounding of her heart drowned it out.

               “Can we be together tonight?  It is Friday. We can relax; maybe go to a club?”

            Sara was surprised at Storm’s suggestion. Since their first time together they had always gone to her apartment, not to public places. “How shall we manage?”

            He bridled with resentment. “What’s to be managed?  We’ve met at work, we enjoy each other, we wish to be together. Do you think this should be a secret forever?  Should I not introduce you to my friends?”

            Sara had barely allowed herself to think about the age gap between them. Suddenly she felt shy. What would his friends think of her?  But the challenge in Storm’s voice was unmistakable. If she wouldn’t go about with him in public, he would lose face. A thought came: If the age difference were reversed, there would be no issue. She lifted her chin and agreed. “Of course. I meant, where shall we go?  And when should we meet?”

            The boyish grin flashed. His tension vanished. “After work, we’ll go for a drink. I often meet friends in Sanlitun, the bar district. We’ll have something to eat and then maybe do some karaoke, hao ma? You’re not afraid to sing?

            Sara smiled back without restraint. “Don’t worry. Singing is something I can do. Only maybe not in Chinese.”

            “We have American karaoke songs. You’ll feel at home.”

            Sara doubted that very much. But she had said yes, she had agreed. She was glad for the extra time she had spent choosing what to wear that morning – she had wanted to look well in daylight if Storm came to the office; now she would have to look well for his friends in whatever light there was in a karaoke bar.

 

            “Zhege yang niu yi dianr lao rou ne? This foreign babe is kind of old meat, isn’t she?” Bright Liu, confident that Americans could not understand Chinese,  didn’t bother to lower his voice in speaking to Trueheart Zhang as Sara and Storm approached.

             Sara stopped short, face pale with anger, and replied, “Dan shi, wo shi bi ni gao/ Er qie bi ni  hen limao! Older than you, that’s right/And also much more polite!”

==

Picture from HomeEdit

Fox Spirit 29 – Realio, Trulio

March 1998

Storm

            Storm saw Sara struggling at the copy machine the following week, trying to make a large book fit under the cover for copying. Curious, he approached quietly and looked over her shoulder.  She jumped and looked at him sideways, as though guilty of some misdemeanor.

            “The Golden Book of Poetry,” he read aloud. “Is this a new way to introduce our products to investors?  What poem do you think will influence them? I do not think this pretty book is from our accounting records.”

            Sara flushed. “I brought a few of my favorite books from America. This isn’t for work, I’m afraid. It’s for my class at the Children’s Palace. You know I am helping there part time now.”

            Storm was enjoying having caught her off guard. The blush was not so unattractive, after all. He wondered how it would be to have one’s feelings written on one’s face so plainly, with no way to hide.

            “Yes, I heard that you are helping there. Do you enjoy that work?” 

            “I do. The children are very open. They help me with my Chinese as I help them with their English. They correct my mistakes and laugh. With business people and new introductions, it is always ‘Your Chinese is so good!  Your accent is very correct!’ and I know it’s not always true. So much politeness, everyone is afraid to laugh. So it’s very relaxing to be with children.”

               He nodded. “It’s true. We are taught to be polite to colleagues, not hurt anyone’s feelings. If you are the boss, or if you are a teacher, you can be honest, but the employee or the student can’t answer in the same way.”  He paused. “What are you teaching them next?”

            “Dan Hu Long de Gushi – the Tale of Custard the Dragon”

            “Dui bu qi? Excuse me?”

            Sara laughed. “You probably didn’t study this poem in English class. It’s a poem for children, about a little girl who has a pet dragon, as well as a pet cat, a pet dog and a pet mouse. And then a pirate comes.  In English it has very clever rhymes; I’m trying to translate it into Chinese so that it still rhymes. I thought the children would like a poem with a dragon in it, since there are so many dragons in Chinese stories.”

            Storm had not noticed it before. Manager Miller was quite pretty when she laughed.          He took the book from the copier and glanced at the picture, then read aloud:

            “Belinda lived in a little white house

            With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse

            And a little yellow dog, and a little red wagon,

            And a realio, trulio little pet dragon.”

            Storm could not help smiling. “I think children will like this poem. I don’t know how to translate ‘realio, trulio’.” 

            She laughed again. “Neither do I. But I’ll try, and my mistakes will make the children laugh. Laughter is good for all of us, isn’t it?”

            “Yes, laughter is good.”  He handed back the book. “Let me know if I can help you with the translation.”

            Her eyes widened with surprise at his interest. “You are very kind…”.

            “No,” he interrupted her. “I am not just being polite. I would like to help you with this.”

            “Oh, well… thanks.” Sara looked away, as if embarrassed, then switched the conversation. “You wanted to copy something?  You can go ahead…”

            “Just one page. Really, it would be interesting to try to translate this poem. I’ll try to come up with a translation of ‘realio, trulio’ to start, hao ma?”

            Sara nodded her thanks as he turned to the machine, made a quick copy and turned back to her. “The meaning is like ‘this is hard to believe but it is really true’, dui ma?”

            “Yes, that’s the idea.”

               “Very well, teacher – I will do this assignment.”  He smiled and walked back to his cubicle.

            Sara had not seen it before – how his face came alive when he smiled. She returned to her copying task, concentrating hard on aligning the page just so.

            That night Sara half-woke from a dream in which she had been having passionate sex. She could still feel hands on her – hands stroking her skin, hands moving along her spine – she moaned softly, remembering. She raised her head, disoriented, trying to think where she was, to make sense of the hissing radiator, the faint smell of garlic which she could not keep from the bedroom, the half-light from the window, the empty space next to her in the bed. Her whole body knotted with tension; she had left the dream before achieving release. Had it been John in the dream? It had been so long since there had been that kind of feeling between them. All through his illness she had been the care-taker; he had become more her child than her lover.

            She was almost certain that at least at the beginning of the dream it had been John. She had had no other adventures in so long, but the dream seemed to change, as dreams will, as it wove on. She tried to will herself back into the dream, toward sexual release, by imagining John, but the dream receded;  she could not remember what loving John had felt like. At the end he had been so soft, so pale, so flaccid. The hair of the man had been darker than John’s – nearly black. She imagined a faceless dark-haired presence and moved her hand down to provide the release denied her by her wakefulness.

            Sara’s translation, with Storm Cheng’s help, was a great success, and Sara decided to adapt the poem into a play. The children loved Bei Lin and her dragon Dan Hu, both in Chinese and English, and the poem had parts for 12 children (counting one to be the narrator, two to be the wagon and five to be the house with door and window.)  Teacher Wu was interested;  perhaps parents and other friends of the school could be invited to see the progress the students were making in English. It would look well for the school. The children happily made masks and paper costumes to fit their parts. Scarlet Li would be there of course, and Sara had invited Storm Cheng also, as he had helped with the translation.

            The children performed during lunch hour, so parents could come from work and other classes could also sit in. It was not a long performance, but the parents applauded enthusiastically as the children took their bows. Then one of the children dashed to the side of the make-shift stage and pulled Sara forward. She blushed and smiled as children and parents gave her a round of applause also. She was pleased to see Storm Cheng and Scarlet Li in the back of the room, applauding. Little Snow Plum had distinguished herself as Blink, the mouse, and Scarlet Li was beaming.

            “This was a good idea of mine, dui bu dui?” commented Scarlet as the three of them left the Children’s Palace together.

            “Yes, thank you!” agreed Sara. Storm said nothing.

            “Manager Cheng, you are silent.” Sara could not resist fishing for a compliment. “What did you think of the play?”

            “I was thinking,” he replied seriously. “And wondering:  Is this the way language is taught in America, with plays and poems and costumes and laughter?  Or perhaps you are an unusual teacher?”

            “Oh no,” Sara disclaimed. “I am very ordinary. It’s good for the students to speak the language, not just listen to the teacher. And children love doing plays and wearing costumes.”

            “It’s very different in Chinese schools,” Scarlet said. “We’re taught to listen, read and copy. We’re not allowed to talk, except to recite back in unison what the teacher has said. We become very good at remembering what we are told, but not so good at speaking freely.”

            Sara began to say “I see this in Chinese culture also…” but stopped with “I see….” It wasn’t tactful for a foreigner to be critical of Chinese ways with Chinese friends.

            Storm went on with his thought. “I studied English for seven years in school. Still, when I met Americans, I found I couldn’t understand their speech. And I couldn’t put my English words together to answer questions or have a conversation – my brain couldn’t find the words quickly enough. It was very difficult for me, and very embarrassing.”

            “But your English is very good now!”

            He brushed away her compliment with a wave of his hand. “I practiced whenever I had a chance. I found people who had come to China to work and tried to talk with them.  I had to overcome my embarrassment. It wasn’t easy. I found some people were not so friendly, and some who seemed friendly taught me bad language as a joke. Still I kept on.”  He sighed. “These little ones are very lucky to have found you.”

            Sara glowed with pleasure. She tried to return his honesty:  “I am lucky to have found them, thanks to Scarlet Li. They are helping me a lot, not just with my Chinese. I feel comfortable with them.”

            “Yes, I can see.” His eyes lingered on her, as if coming to some conclusion. “The child in you still lives; that’s clear.”

            Scarlet Li smiled at the two of them. “I must speak to Teacher Yu about a few things – why don’t you two go on back to the office without me?”   Before they could respond, she had darted back through the gate, leaving them to continue their conversation as best they might

===

Excerpts from Custard the Dragon, by Ogden Nash.

Fox Spirit 28 – A Door Opens

Jerry Wang looked uncomfortable as he approached Sara after the meeting. “We’ll be taking the Hong Kong group to dinner, of course,” he began. He stopped, as if hunting for words, then began again. “Since Mrs. Anderson is part of the group… it is difficult with only one woman… would you be able to join us and entertain Mrs. Anderson?”            

Sara could almost read his thoughts. He was only asking her because of Mrs. Anderson. He was going back on his resolution to exclude her from these meetings. He was all but telling her to limit her attentions to the other woman. But if things went well… “Of course I’ll come. Please make sure I am seated next to her at the table. I won’t change for dinner, since this is short notice, all right?”

            Jerry nodded, a smile of relief breaking over his face. And by the end of the evening Sara felt confident that for Jerry Wang at least, his American Face had again become an asset. Sara and  Mrs. Anderson had found common ground in talking of  the difficulties of being women in the patriarchal Chinese and British business worlds. Sara had deferred to Trueheart Zhang each time a question or compliment was directed at her and gradually the wary look was leaving his eyes. Baby steps. Baby steps.

            As February wore on, the daily bus ride left Sara irritated from the crowding, twitchy from lack of exercise, and with an extra thirty minutes to fill at the office. She had finished her review of the marketing collateral and financial statements. Zhang did the day by day accounting and though his manner was more casually friendly than before the Hong Kong people had visited, Sara did not risk asking him if she could review his work. Scarlet Li managed the office. The programmers coded. Her co-workers occasionally asked her opinion or solicited her assistance, but her days were not full. “Not enough foreign investors to impress” she thought to herself ruefully. Storm Cheng was traveling a lot, so there was no secret thrill of observing him. “Is there more I could do to help you?” Sara asked Scarlet. “Even if it’s only filing.  I mustn’t be idle.”

            Scarlet Li looked seriously at Sara as if weighing her up and then said “The office is my domain. All is going smoothly now, each one doing his own task. But I have an idea. Let me inquire.”

            Later Sara heard her name as Scarlet Li spoke quietly to Boss Wang. “Why did you rock the boat?” she scolded herself. Even if this job was a sinecure, it had given her what she wanted. It had taken her away from the accusing glances of neighbors, it had left Mark and Rennie free to work out their marriage and there was so much to learn in China. She wanted all this and meaningful work too?   Stupid!

The next day Scarlet Li appeared at Sara’s cubicle at 3PM. “Come,” she said. “I’d like to offer you an opportunity to do more, as you asked. Please put on your coat.”

            “We’re leaving the office? But what can I do to help you outside of the office?” asked Sara, putting down her papers and turning toward Scarlet.

            “I’ll explain; it will be easier as we go.”  Sara obediently put on her coat and followed Scarlet. Outside, Scarlet Li waved down a taxi and ushered Sara inside. “To the Children’s Palace,” she told the driver, and smiled at Sara. “Just this once, the company will pay.”   

            “It’s too early to pick up Snow Plum,” Sara began.

            “No, that’s not my plan. Here’s my idea: I’ve seen you at the Children’s Palace and with Snow Plum. You are fond of children, yes?  The Children’s Palace needs a foreign teacher to help with English lessons. You are an English speaker and good with children, yes?  You don’t have enough to do at Rainbow Software – this is correct?

            Sara nodded, unsure what would come next.

            “I’ve spoken to Teacher Wu and to Boss Wang. The Children’s Palace can pay you a small amount to help with English lessons, and Rainbow Software will deduct that amount from your salary so we don’t pay for your time at the Palace. This is good business for both. Do you agree?”

            Sara nodded, speechless with a mixture of elation and fear. She would love to spend her time  at the Children’s Palace instead of twiddling her thumbs at the office. But she had never tried to teach children. What if she was sent back as failure to Rainbow Software?

            When they arrived at the Children’s Palace, Scarlet Li swept Sara into the classroom and greeted Teacher Wu. “Here is Mrs. Miller. Perhaps she could begin to know the children today.”

            Teacher Wu was all smiles at the prospect of assistance. “Huan ying! Welcome! We are about to have a story telling time. Perhaps Mei Le Taitai could tell the children an American story?”

            Sara was overwhelmed. “Aiee!  Wode putonghua bu gou!” My Chinese is not good enough!  

            “Not so!  If you know a story, you should try. The children will help you.”

            Sara could not resist the challenge. “Very well, if the children will help me.” At the sound of a whistle the children assembled, filed into the classroom, formed a circle, and Sarah began the story of Xiao Heisede Sen Bo. Groping for the word for “jungle”, she turned to the chalkboard and drew one tree. “Shu, dui ba?”  A few of the children nodded in response. Then she drew more trees. “Lin?”   More of the children nodded at the word for “woods”. Still more trees. “Sen lin?”  The children agreed this is the word for “forest.”  Then more trees, with a tiger peeking out, a monkey swinging from a branch. “Shi shenme? What is this?”  She turned to the children, hands open in question. The children looked at their teacher uncertainly and then one boy raised his hand. “Conglin?”

            “Ah, xie xie! Conglin! Jungle!”     

            Aided by the chalkboard, she was able to draw well enough so that the children could supply the words when she stumbled at “trousers”, “umbrella”, “tiger”,  “stripes” and “pancakes”. By the time Sara finished with the pancake feast and signaled the end “Wanle”, the children had lost most of their shyness and were barely able torestrain themselves from calling out the words she needed. Teacher Wu was smiling.

            “This was good for the children to see a foreigner struggling to learn Chinese, just as they struggle to learn English. We have our English lessons every day at three-thirty. Sometimes we do an English story in Chinese, sometimes a story in English. Please come again tomorrow and maybe tell the same story in English, see if they can understand.”

            Sara was exhilarated. The children enjoyed me!  That was fun!  “Thank you, Teacher Wu. I will love to be your assistant. And thank you, Manager Li, for finding this opportunity for me. Tomorrow I’ll be here at half past three without fail.”

            “That was well done,” Scarlet Li said to her. “Now Teacher Wang is happy, the children are happy, and you will have more to fill your time. This is – how to say in English – win-win?”

            “Yes. Win-win.” Sara was already planning her next visit, thinking how she would help the students tell the story back to her.

[Images by Gustav Tenggren]

Fox Spirit 13: First Steps

Sara

               After the presentation Sara spread out the revised marketing collateral for Cheng’s review. He stood leaning over the table, eyes darting back and forth, looking for a fault. Finally he straightened, admitting “These are better. You’ve made them better.” His eyes and voice were still cold.

            Sara’s ritual demurral was equally stiff and formal. “You are too kind.I must thank you and Scarlet Li for doing most of the difficult work first.”

            Scarlet Li in turn made the ritual polite gesture dismissing the praise. All the formalities had been observed. Storm bowed slightly and excused himself. Sara gathered up the data sheets. “Thank you for your support, Manager Li.”

            “It was nothing. But perhaps Manager Cheng wasn’t as grateful for our help as we hoped.”

            Sara shrugged. “Grateful or not, he can’t object to Boss Wang’s request that we continue, even though we are women and I’m a foreigner.”

            “Perhaps Manager Cheng will have to change his thinking a little bit,” said Scarlet. “This won’t harm him. He is young.” The two women smiled at each other, co-conspirators.

            Sara was deeply engrossed in revising one of the data sheets when a reflection fell across her computer screen – a thin dark-haired man was standing behind her. Sara’s pulse jumped as she turned – had Storm Cheng found something new to criticize? But it was not Cheng. Instead Light Wave Shi, the be-spectacled head of programming, stood at her cubicle entrance.

“Excuse me, Manager Miller. I have interrupted you. Please forgive. I know you are very busy. I am embarrassed. I…”

Sara cut short the flow of excuses and apologies. “Mei wenti. Not a problem. You are welcome, Manager Shi. How can I help you?”

            Shi shifted from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at the foreign woman. “Excuse me, you may perhaps remember, when you first came to office, young Wang suggested you might sometime help us with English problems?”

            Sara remembered her own irritation at the time. She had rejected the idea. She had been sensitive about her role, her dignity as manager. Now she knew better. Her native English was one ability which no one else in the office could match. She must not be too proud to use it. She put on her best smile.

            “Of course I remember. At first I was not sure. Do you have something you need help with?”

            “Forgive me. I would not ask, until I heard you in today’s meeting, that you have helped Cheng and Li with the presentation and data sheets. I’m thinking, we in our software development also need to use correct English, even slang. In games there are voices that speak; we mustn’t make a mistake in our English words in the game code. Perhaps, if you have some free time, you can review our choices?”

            “Dangran keyi. Of course.” It would not do to seem too immediately available. “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon? Maybe we can use the conference room, and you can show me?”

            Shi smiled, revealing his crooked teeth, then quickly covered his mouth. “Good. I’ll arrange the conference room with Manager Li. I’ll bring the other programmers too. It will be good for them to hear, all right?”

            “Hen hao. Fine.” Shi bowed and retreated; Sara glanced at the opposite cubicle. The blue characters no longer marched across the computer screen. Cheng’s cubicle was un-occupied again. He would have no chance to object to this new activity.

            The language session the next day was lively. The software engineers were trying to create a game which would attract both Chinese and American users; the lead character was an American teenager named Otto who looked oddly like a young Bill Gates. The task was to collect parts to build a supercomputer, the pieces were hidden in a cartoon San Francisco, and the obstacles included runaway cable cars, angry sea lions, and clueless tourists.

            “Why San Francisco?” asked Sara. “And why a computer?

            “We first thought Los Angeles,” Shi explained, “but everything – the Hollywood sign, Disneyland, even the Chinese Theatre – all ask license fees to use them. And every Chinese knows of San Francisco and Silicon Valley, so we made Otto a computer person, skinny, glasses – you say nerd, yes?   If game players like Otto, we can license him – make extra money. Like Mario Brothers and Donkey Kong – lunch boxes and beach towels make lots of extra money!”

            Sara enjoyed the programmer’s deference, their shy appreciation of her broader experience, their willingness to overlook her mangled Mandarin in exchange for her correcting their inexpert English. Very quickly their personalities sorted out: Light Wave Shi was serious, anxious, a little fussy and over-conscious of being the manager; Fortune Chen was the youngest and shyest; Gateway Wang was the tallest, the one who exuded privilege and confidence, who spoke the best English, who tried to flirt with her.

            “Mei le Jing li, you are liking Beijing?  How about night life – many good nightclubs now in Beijing. Drink beer, have karaoke – you like karaoke?

            “I haven’t tried karaoke, even in America. Surely not in Beijing. I don’t know any Chinese songs.” Sara had loved to sing before John’s illness. She had even performed a few times, singing folk songs at the on-campus cabaret. She knew lots of songs; she had practiced daily on her guitar. But John in his illness had become super-sensitive to any light, any sound. Her voice was too loud, the tone was rough, the notes were wrong, she sang the same songs over and over. She had stopped singing.

            Fortune Chen spoke up softly. “To do karaoke, no need to sing Chinese. Many American songs also can sing. Maybe you know… I like The Rose. Easy to sing, almost understand words.”

            “Yes, I know that song. It’s very popular, and easy to sing, like you say. The words are also very simple. I can help you understand, if you like.”

            Chen’s smile was genuine – not the nervous laughter Sara had heard so often. She smiled back just as Shi remembered his role as manager. “Young Chen, we must not presume on Manager Miller’s kindness. Now we must go make the changes she has suggested. Thank you, Manager Miller; you will keep us busy!”  He rose and bowed. The two others remembered they were still on office time and did the same, then collected their gear and followed Shi from the conference room. Sara was left smiling, humming the simple tune of The Rose.

Storm

            Storm arrived early on the following Monday. Sara’s cubicle opposite was still empty. But after he had dropped his backpack, booted his computer, and gotten his morning coffee, he returned to find the foreign woman again one step inside his cubicle. She had bent to see the words streaming across the screen, his screensaver. He heard her murmuring the opening phrases aloud:

            “Ni zuo guo le yi wan li de lu

            lai wan cheng wo de deng …”

  She stopped as Storm came up quietly behind her. He asked, “Do you understand it?”

            “I begin to,” she answered, without turning. “‘You traveled a thousand mile road/ to bring to an end to my waiting… something.’ What is the character after “deng” and what does it mean?”

            Storm’s irritation dissolved. She wasn’t snooping. She seemed really interested. He responded to her question as a teacher would answer an eager student.

            “It’s “dai”, and it means “wait”. In Chinese, you have two words together that mean almost the same, it doubles the strength. So “deng dai” is “a long tiresome waiting”. Do you understand the rest?

            “No, I don’t know enough characters. “Therefore something something of night something up something star” – not very clear.”  She smiled ruefully.

            “You’re doing well – you recognized more than half. It goes

                        ‘Wei ci ting zhi de ye sheng qi le fan qing.’

                        ‘So from the stagnant night burst out a million stars’.”

            “You wrote this?” Sara asked. “For someone special?”

            “No, no, I didn’t write it. My friend is a writer and a poet; I like this thought – that there would be someone who would transform my life as these lines describe. Maybe this is my dream, to meet this person, but this is not yet.”

            “I wish you may meet this person someday.” He saw her face twist as though a sudden emotion had gripped her.   She turned away abruptly and brushed past him into her own cubicle. He stood watching her, not speaking. She turned back toward him.

            “Thank you for explaining the poem. I hope she comes.”

            “Who?”

            “Your dream – with stars.” Sara smiled, her composure regained, and then turned her back, ending the conversation. Storm hesitated at the entrance to her cubicle, confused by her evident emotion. It was only a poem!

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Episodes of Fox Spirit appear on Monday and Thursday. To follow Fox Spirit, scroll down to the blue bar saying “Follow Chinese Puzzle Box” and click on it. It’s not too late to catch up with Sara and Storm!

Fox Spirit 11 – Confrontation 2

           

Scarlet Li stopped Sara as she was leaving that evening with Zhang. “Mei Le Jingli, tomorrow Tuesday, we have company meeting in morning 8 AM. You will be there, yes?  We have in conference room, there. Still small, all fit. Hao bu hao?”

            “Dangran hao.” Sara responded in Chinese to the office manager’s awkward English.  “Of course, yes. I will be there, if Zhang does not forget me.” She wondered why Truehart Zhang had not mentioned this meeting. Was it an oversight?  Had he planned to say something on the way home?  Had he meant to shut her out?

            In the car Sara asked Zhang: “Tell me about this meeting then. Is it every week? Who will be there?  What will happen?  What is discussed?”

            “Dui bu qi. I am sorry, I meant to tell you. You are still so new. This is our weekly meeting. Boss Wang of course, will be there, also Cheng, Hong, Shi, myself. Each one talks about his section, what is done, what is still to do. Do you want to talk about accounting? That will be fine.”

            “No, no, not in the first week. You speak on business, finance. I’ll just listen. Maybe later I’ll know more, be more useful. This week I’ll listen only.”

            “Hao.” Zhang pulled the car into a space front of Sara’s courtyard. “See you tomorrow then.” He waited for Sara to leave the car.

            “Yes. Half past seven?  I’ll be ready.”  Sara scrambled out of the car and turned for the ritual “See you soon.” But as the car door closed Zhang was already pulling away.

###

            Sara is standing in the darkened room, John’s room, at the foot of his bed, pinned by his unforgiving stare, the echo of his acid-tinged voice. He wanted her to do something, and she failed. Or perhaps he had not wanted her to do something that she had done – she is never sure. John lies in semi-darkness, emaciated, a miasma of disappointment and disapproval leaking out of him, blending with the pungent smell of bedpans and soiled sheets and sweat and disinfectant. She is helpless to help him. He is beyond being pleased. Her failure only increases his pain, takes more light from his darkness. His pain and his disappointment and his disapproval all blend together, beyond the reach of opiates or apologies or love, beyond touch or smell or sight or word. It is a vacuum, sucking the air from the room, from her lungs. She is drowning in it, sucked down by it; there is nothing she can do. She struggles to breathe. The air is thick. She cannot speak, she cannot breathe, her nose is blocked, her mouth will not open.

            With relief Sara felt the edge of the sheet against her cheek, felt her legs tangled in its folds. She struggled to wake up further, get free of the dream. Finally she was able to sit up. Her jaw ached from the dream-effort to open her mouth, to take a breath. She took in great gulps of the hot, thick air. The air conditioner had stopped working. She pulled herself free of the tangling sheet, found her shaky way to the air conditioner and pounded it into submissive operation again. She lay in bed on top of the coverings, arms crossed on her chest, staring into the shadows on the ceiling, fearing the dream still hovering on the edges of consciousness, willing sleep away.

###

            The next morning Sara and Trueheart Zhang walked into the conference room together. An image of solidarity in the finance department, Sara thought. Jerry Wang, Engineering  Manager Shi, and Sales Manager Storm Cheng were already there, standing in a close group, talking with quick gestures. The animated conversation broke off with the opening of the door.  

            Sara read welcome in the expression of Jerry Wang, surprise in the faces of Storm Cheng and Engineer Shi. An unwelcome surprise?  Hard to tell. She put on her greeting face, and stopped short of extending her hand to shake Shi’s. She remembered that he had not shaken hers before, and limited her greeting to a nod.

            Scarlet Li bustled into the room. “Sorry, the copier wasn’t warmed up, and I had to print the agenda.”  The eyes of the four men widened. “I thought it would help our new team member to understand our talk,” Scarlet Li smoothly answered their unspoken question. She moved around the table, setting a paper at each chair, and then sat quiet at the far corner of the table.

            Sara waited, then took a seat next to Jerry Wang along one side of the table. Zhang hesitated and then took the seat on the other side of his boss, while Shi and Storm Cheng took their seats next to Scarlet Li opposite. Wang grinned and whispered, not very quietly, to Sara. “This is unusual!  Normally Finance and Accounting line up with the practical office manager, and we optimists in Sales and Production are on the other side.”

            Sara smiled back at him. “I always like to mix things up – my red hair, you know.” Jerry Wang chuckled in appreciation. Suddenly Sara became conscious of the others watching, their faces carefully blank. She pulled her expression into the same blank mask and made a show of studying the paper in front of her.

            The agenda was a simple one-page list of speakers and subjects, starting with Scarlet Li as the administrator for small office issues, moving up the hierarchy as each manager reported, ending with Jerry Wang as CEO giving the summarizing strategy for the company’s next efforts. Sara was positioned just above Engineer Shi, the young head of product development, and below Zhang, who was listed as Senior Accounting Manager. She noted that her own title had been changed to International Accounting Manager. Scarlet Li had tactfully differentiated the two roles.

            Scarlet Li finished a quick update on the state of the office: paper use running a little over budget, coffee and soda costs also a little over budget. Then she turned to Sara and said “I must give special appreciation to our newest employee, Manager Miller, who volunteered to correct and update our sales and marketing materials just before the meeting last week with Wallace Venture Partners of Hong Kong. Mei Le Jingli, perhaps you can say a few words about this.”

            Jerry Wang beamed and nodded his pleasure at the unexpected contribution of his protégée. Storm Cheng had been leaning back in his chair, but at Scarlet Li’s words of praise he leaned forward abruptly, bringing the chair down with a sharp bang.

            “And just what sales and marketing materials were these?”  His clipped tone gave away the effort it cost him to contain his anger. “Manager Li, you and I had written these materials with the approval of Boss Wang, I believe. What authority had you to change them? And how could this woman have gained the knowledge in such a short time of anything that needed changing?”  He turned to Wang Jie Ri and continued with a Chinese phrase: “Lun yu chong shu.”

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Episodes of Fox Spirit appear on Monday and Thursday. To follow Fox Spirit, scroll down to the blue bar saying “Follow Chinese Puzzle Box” and click on it. It’s not too late to catch up with Sara and Storm!

Fox Spirit 7:New Name, New Life

Behind the door marked “Rainbow Software” was another world. The receptionist, a young girl introduced as Wang Yu – Jade Wang – sat behind a gray Formica-topped reception desk which could have been imported intact from the office in Los Angeles.

            Beyond Jade Wang, an opening allowed a glimpse of gray cubicle partitions and a couple of glass doors leading, Sara supposed, to offices or conference rooms. Almost before Sara had time to greet Jade Wang with the ritual courtesies, Trueheart guided her through the opening.

             The programmers of Rainbow Software had decorated their cubicles with the same sort of whimsy she had seen in the cubicles of computer engineers when she had worked in Los Angeles. A large inflated flamingo stood at the entrance to the programmers’ area, a dragon kite floated across the ceiling, shelves in the cubicles held Star Wars action figures and Japanese Transformers. At the sound of footsteps three heads of dark hair and a half-dozen black eyes popped up over the cubicle walls. “Let me introduce you, Mei Le Jingli,” said Trueheart as he escorted Sara down the aisle.

            To Sara’s eyes the three software engineers looked barely old enough to be legally employed. Fortune Chen was a like a cartoon of a Chinese scientist with his thick glasses and mop of black hair. He mumbled hello to Sara with hesitant eye contact and a gap-toothed smile. Gateway Wang was Fortune’s opposite:  tall, with perfect teeth, well-cut hair, and good English. He shook hands with Sara Western-style. The last to be introduced was Light Wave Shi, very thin with hair cropped short. He gave Sara a confident “Hello” but no handshake.  “Manager Shi is our designer of games,” explained Trueheart. “Wang and Chen are our programmers and junior designers. We hope soon to have our first product from our own designers.”

            Gateway Wang spoke up. “Ah, Manager Miller, maybe you can help our English, be our teacher, hao ma?”

            “Yes, of course, I will help if I can, if I have time…” Sara stammered. She looked sideways at Trueheart Zhang and caught him frowning at Wang, who quickly back-pedaled.  “Of course, you will be busy at first… maybe later….” He subsided awkwardly as Trueheart pulled Sara further down the aisle of cubicles.

            Sara held back for a moment to ask “Trueheart, what is the name you have given me? Mei Le… is that as close as Chinese can get for Miller?”

            “Yes, it is a good name – “Mei Le… the meaning is ‘Beautiful Joy’.” And Jingli is “Manager”.

            “Mei Le is nice. But it will be odd to go by my last name. Can you translate ‘Sara’?”

            Trueheart looked doubtful. “In Chinese we don’t use the first name so much. It could be Sai le– means ‘stuffed full of happiness.”

            “How about Sa ye– that sounds closer to ’Sara’…”

            “Sa ye is not so good – it means bu limao– behaving rudely.”

            “How about Si le”?

            “Means ‘dead’. Very unlucky. It will be better to go by your family name and title, I think.”

            Sara laughed and gave in. “Now I see why Chinese families take such care to name their children – it’s not easy to find words that don’t have a bad side! I’ll take ‘Mei le’ and ‘Sai le’ then.”  Inwardly she exulted. She had a brand-new name to start her brand-new life. But there was something Trueheart had said.

            “Trueheart, you said that soon we would have our first product. But if we have no product, what are you and I accounting for? When we met in the Los Angeles office, there were sales. Jerry Wang was very busy, it seemed.”

            “We have product, but not our own design. Wang Jie Ri has a license to sell some games made in Japan into the US and China. Our Chinese sales manager also has found customers in Shanghai and Hong Kong. This has been very good business for us. Now here is your place.”

            Sara noted the unoccupied cubicle on the other side of the aisle. “Who is opposite?”

            “Ah, this place is for Cheng Bao Feng – Storm Cheng – our manager for sales in China. He isn’t always in the office, so I think maybe this will give you a little more … what do you say in English?  Privacy?”

            Sara remembered Silver Wing’s blank look – “What is the Chinese word?”

            Trueheart Zhang paused for a moment, considering. “This word isn’t so easy to translate. In Chinese always there are many people together in a family, in a building, in the neighborhood. You could say ’yinju’ but the meaning is a little bit not so good, like you maybe have something not quite right in your head, you are afraid of people. I think this ‘privacy’ is a Western idea. Western people are accustomed to being more alone, so I tried to make a place comfortable for you.”

            “You are too kind, to give me the best space by the window. I hope no one will feel badly.”

            Trueheart grinned at her. “This is no problem. In an American office, I know the window office is best. In a Chinese office, close to center of the room is best. So everyone is quite satisfied.”

            “Why is the center best?  Chinese people don’t like the light and the view?”

            “Having light and a view is not so important as being in the middle where all actions cross. In the center you know who talks to who, who comes in and goes out. There are many useful things to observe.”

            Sara felt a pang of doubt – was she being relegated to a backwater?Aloud she replied, “I do not mean to be so out of the way. Perhaps I could be closer to you so I could study your methods?

            “Ah, this is embarrassing. Our arrangement is set. It’s not so many steps for me to come to you…”

            “… Or for me to come to you,” Sara interrupted. She did not intend to sit waiting for Trueheart’s attention. There was a moment of silence before she continued, “And who is next to me here?”

            “Let me introduce you.” Trueheart rapped on the edge of the partition to officially attract the attention of the young woman inside. “This is our office manager, Li Jingli called Hong – Scarlet.”

            Scarlet Li patted her hennaed hair into place before holding out a hand for Sara to shake. “Hello Mrs. Miller. I am happy to meet you”, she said in careful British-accented English. Sara saw Scarlet’s hesitation and the wariness in her eyes. She caught sight of a photograph tacked onto the side of Scarlet’s cubicle over the computer monitor and plunged ahead.

             “Ah, what a pretty child. Your little sister?”

            Scarlet Li’s laugh broke past her shyness. “No, that’s my daughter, called Xue Mei – Snow Plum. She is a student at Bei Hua Children’s Palace. She is two years of age. ”

            “Children’s Palace? That sounds very grand.”

            “Not really a palace,” replied Scarlet. “But still very lovely. Was once the home of an important ambassador. Maybe you can visit the Children’s Palace someday and see.”

            Something about the little girl reminded Sara of Richie. “Yes, I’d like to see a Chinese pre-school, if that is possible.”

            Scarlet Li nodded eagerly. “Keneng. It’s possible. You like children? Maybe you have some?”

            “I have one son, but he’s not a child anymore. Not pretty like Snow Plum.”

             “You have a son. Very good fortune. Only one?  I have heard in America one can have many children, no problem.”  She paused, inviting Sara to explain.

            Sara willed herself to keep her voice level. “You may if you can. We were happy to have one.” She and John must have tried every position in the Kama Sutra, hoping for a sibling for Mark. Then the doctor had told them. Sara had a tipped uterus; they were lucky to have one child. “Please excuse me….” Sara turned to her cubicle, away from any more questions. She must send an email to Mark. Perhaps Jerry Wang would let her use the office phone until she had her own – she would ask tomorrow. Meanwhile email from the office would have to do.

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