February Flowers by Fan Wu

Author:Fan Wu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Washington Square Press
Published: 2006-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

“That company in Shenzhen won’t hire me.” Miao Yan came to my room the following afternoon with the news. “True or not, they said they couldn’t get my dossier from the university.” She shrugged. “I knew all this from the beginning.”

“Don’t give up. There are a lot more opportunities,” I said, consoling her.

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

After that day she began to skip classes again and was off campus most evenings. She told me that she had found two part-time jobs. One was teaching a fifth-grade girl composition and English, which paid twelve yuan an hour; the other was doing odd jobs at a jewelry store owned by someone from her hometown. I didn’t know how much she got paid for the latter, but I doubted she would get much, for it was such an easy job—all she had to do was put price tags on newly arrived merchandise.

I disliked the jewelry store owner at first sight. He was at least forty years old, coarse-voiced, bald, heavy-set, short—I was taller than he was—with a Japanese-style beard beneath his big, flat nose. The gold necklace he wore was as thick as a dog collar. He had three gold rings on each hand—the rings were so big that they made his fingers spread out. When he walked, his feet pointed outward in opposite directions, forming nearly a ninety-degree angle. Whatever the angle, he matched exactly the despicable image of a nouveau riche in my mind. I tried to persuade Miao Yan to quit the job but she kept saying he was much better than most of the men she knew.

The man often invited Miao Yan to dinner at upmarket restaurants and would drive his red BMW to pick her up at the university’s main entrance. Miao Yan never turned down his invitations. In fact she would spend hours putting on makeup and choosing a dress. Sometimes she would ask me to walk her to the entrance. By the time we got there the man would be waiting in his car. On seeing us, he would smile a toothy grin, get out, and open the door for her. Then Miao Yan would step into the car like a celebrity, full of pride, pretentiousness, and privilege. How I hated it!

Whenever the man invited Miao Yan he would also invite me, but I turned down his invitations without bothering to offer an excuse. Miao Yan knew that I disliked her hanging out with him but she laughed it off and never wanted to discuss it. “Don’t act like a jealous lover,” she would tease me. “I just like sitting in a BMW. What’s wrong with that? Tell me, do you know any other girls who go riding in a BMW?”

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