hard
to imagine before it occurred.
For a few years Meng had been wanting to leave the
research institute where he worked to find a job in the
hi-tech development zone 4 , but this hope had remained
unfulfilled. One day he mentioned it in passing to Papa
Qi. He really had meant nothing by it, he was just adding
one more possible topic to their increasingly meagre supply
of conversation. Papa Qi merely smiled enigmatically and
asked, ‘You want to work in the zone, eh? We might be able
to work something out. As long as the research institute
will let you go, there shouldn’t be any problem.’
‘I went to the zone once when they were recruiting.
They seemed to be really satisfied with me, but nothing
came of it in the end,’ said Meng gloomily.
‘Nothing strange about that, you don’t have the connections,
that’s all. People get high salaries and good
treatment in the zone. Everybody’s been racking their
brains for a way to get in. It all depends on your connections.’
Meng replied, not without scorn, ‘I know that, but I
can’t be bothered to go around making connections. If
they don’t want me there, then I don’t want to be there.’
Papa Qi looked at him closely and after a second was
unable to stifle his laughter.
‘What are you laughing about?’
‘You. That really says it all about you intellectuals.’
Meng understood what was meant, but said nothing.
Then he heard Papa Qi give his knee a resounding slap
and say, ‘No problem. I’ll take care of this.’
Meng thought his behaviour baffling, but didn’t pursue
it since he’d only mentioned the matter in passing. It was
true he wanted to go to the zone, but it wouldn’t kill him
to have to stay at the research institute, either – that was
how he looked at the matter. So he was almost scoffing at
Papa Qi when he asked, ‘What? You don’t mean to tell me
that your father’s the general director of the zone?’
No, Papa Qi’s father was not a high-placed official in
the zone, but he had another relative who was, and Meng
was about to find that out. After only three days he was
called to an interview in the zone, and what surprised
him even more was the comment the official made as he
was showing him out: ‘We’ll make the transfer order out
tomorrow.’ As Meng sped down in the lift he felt like he
was dreaming. He left the building and spotted Papa Qi
right away. He was sitting on the flower terrace, waving at
him. Meng immediately woke from his trance, feeling now
that there had been no particularly dreamlike element
to what had just occurred. Of Papa Qi he enquired, ‘So
what’s your connection with Vice Director Wang?’
‘What do you want to know that for?’
‘No reason. I was just curious.’
At this Papa Qi laughed and said, ‘You intellectuals,
curious about everything. But can you eat curiosity?’
Meng felt a little awkward, but Papa Qi gave him a hearty
pat on the back and said, ‘He’s a relative, I suppose, but
that doesn’t count for much. We’re mostly friends; we
gradually got to know each other.’
The Mengs were duly grateful for Papa Qi’s help, and
the day before Meng reported for duty in the zone, the
two of them went to buy gifts for him. Obeying the
conventions, they purchased high-quality cigarettes and
alcohol. Then Ningzhu, anxious to do right, said, ‘Papa
Qi’s chin is always so stubbly. Why don’t we get him an
electric razor?’
‘If we get one, then it should be top-grade,’ Meng
replied, so in the end they shelled out a thousand yuan
for a Philips razor.
Just as the couple had expected, Papa Qi refused
this windfall of gifts, remarking, ‘If I’d known you
intellectuals believed in bribes like everyone else, I
wouldn’t have helped you out in the first place.’
Fortunately, Ningzhu knew how to be persuasive: ‘We
know how things work. You must have spent quite a lot
of money running around to get this done for us. If you
won’t accept even these poor tokens of our gratitude
to imagine before it occurred.
For a few years Meng had been wanting to leave the
research institute where he worked to find a job in the
hi-tech development zone 4 , but this hope had remained
unfulfilled. One day he mentioned it in passing to Papa
Qi. He really had meant nothing by it, he was just adding
one more possible topic to their increasingly meagre supply
of conversation. Papa Qi merely smiled enigmatically and
asked, ‘You want to work in the zone, eh? We might be able
to work something out. As long as the research institute
will let you go, there shouldn’t be any problem.’
‘I went to the zone once when they were recruiting.
They seemed to be really satisfied with me, but nothing
came of it in the end,’ said Meng gloomily.
‘Nothing strange about that, you don’t have the connections,
that’s all. People get high salaries and good
treatment in the zone. Everybody’s been racking their
brains for a way to get in. It all depends on your connections.’
Meng replied, not without scorn, ‘I know that, but I
can’t be bothered to go around making connections. If
they don’t want me there, then I don’t want to be there.’
Papa Qi looked at him closely and after a second was
unable to stifle his laughter.
‘What are you laughing about?’
‘You. That really says it all about you intellectuals.’
Meng understood what was meant, but said nothing.
Then he heard Papa Qi give his knee a resounding slap
and say, ‘No problem. I’ll take care of this.’
Meng thought his behaviour baffling, but didn’t pursue
it since he’d only mentioned the matter in passing. It was
true he wanted to go to the zone, but it wouldn’t kill him
to have to stay at the research institute, either – that was
how he looked at the matter. So he was almost scoffing at
Papa Qi when he asked, ‘What? You don’t mean to tell me
that your father’s the general director of the zone?’
No, Papa Qi’s father was not a high-placed official in
the zone, but he had another relative who was, and Meng
was about to find that out. After only three days he was
called to an interview in the zone, and what surprised
him even more was the comment the official made as he
was showing him out: ‘We’ll make the transfer order out
tomorrow.’ As Meng sped down in the lift he felt like he
was dreaming. He left the building and spotted Papa Qi
right away. He was sitting on the flower terrace, waving at
him. Meng immediately woke from his trance, feeling now
that there had been no particularly dreamlike element
to what had just occurred. Of Papa Qi he enquired, ‘So
what’s your connection with Vice Director Wang?’
‘What do you want to know that for?’
‘No reason. I was just curious.’
At this Papa Qi laughed and said, ‘You intellectuals,
curious about everything. But can you eat curiosity?’
Meng felt a little awkward, but Papa Qi gave him a hearty
pat on the back and said, ‘He’s a relative, I suppose, but
that doesn’t count for much. We’re mostly friends; we
gradually got to know each other.’
The Mengs were duly grateful for Papa Qi’s help, and
the day before Meng reported for duty in the zone, the
two of them went to buy gifts for him. Obeying the
conventions, they purchased high-quality cigarettes and
alcohol. Then Ningzhu, anxious to do right, said, ‘Papa
Qi’s chin is always so stubbly. Why don’t we get him an
electric razor?’
‘If we get one, then it should be top-grade,’ Meng
replied, so in the end they shelled out a thousand yuan
for a Philips razor.
Just as the couple had expected, Papa Qi refused
this windfall of gifts, remarking, ‘If I’d known you
intellectuals believed in bribes like everyone else, I
wouldn’t have helped you out in the first place.’
Fortunately, Ningzhu knew how to be persuasive: ‘We
know how things work. You must have spent quite a lot
of money running around to get this done for us. If you
won’t accept even these poor tokens of our gratitude
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