The Civil Servant's Notebook Part 2

I quite understood. There was a rumour that Mayor Liu was considering promoting my boss. If true, this particular report could determine the outcome.

I always prepare for all eventualities. I surmised that if Mayor Liu was merely hoping to place an article praising his brilliant achievements in attracting investment in the Dongzhou Daily, there would be no need to mobilise our entire Research Office. Number Two Department, Combined Affairs in the Munic.i.p.al Government could produce that kind of article in their sleep. Mayor Liu must have actually wanted to get a grasp of real conditions, resolve some problems and move the entire city's investment attraction work onto a new level.

So while I wrote the research report as per instructions, I wrote another copy in private that reflected my actual findings, condensing my knowledge about business promotion and investment attraction in the city. I intended to keep this alternative version to myself, though of course in secret I hoped it might one day become the basis for Mayor Liu's strategising.

When the report was complete, Mayor Liu broke with precedent by asking my boss to bring the princ.i.p.al author to his office when he delivered it.

This was the first time I'd come face to face with Mayor Liu. He gave me an impression of easy approachability. Zhao Zhong was also present, and in contrast to Mayor Liu's friendliness, he betrayed the tensions of a man facing an enemy. The air conditioning was on, but, perhaps due to his corpulence, he continually mopped sweat from his face.

While my boss delivered his report, I watched the smile on Mayor Liu's face gradually disappear, and while he remained as amiable as ever, that amiability became tinged with severity. When the report was concluded, he remained silent for a moment, then asked a few questions, to which my boss replied in an offhand manner.

When I heard Mayor Liu's questions, I exulted because they touched directly on the central problems of investment attraction, the very reason Mayor Liu had given this work to the Research Office. By strenuously praising the progress that had been made, my boss was obviously missing his leader's intent. I, on the other hand, already had a grasp of the causes, background and solutions to his questions.

Mayor Liu took the unusual step of asking me to add my remarks. This was my first chance to display my talents before the Mayor in person. I was a mere department-level researcher. Of all the civil servants in the city, how many would ever get an opportunity to deliver a work report to Mayor Liu in person?

None. That's how many. Yet the opportunity had landed in my lap.

I settled my nerves then launched into a ten-minute soliloquy, laying bare the ills of the system and proposing effective remedies. Liu was elated and asked me to write up what I'd said as a report. Then he did something that surprised me. He asked my boss and Zhao Zhong to leave his office and told me to stay behind.

At that instant I would have given anything to become a mouse and dive into a hole. I would have gladly leapt into a mousetrap even, but there was nowhere to hide. I steeled myself. Hadn't I already leapt into the cat's mouth? The only way I was going to stay alive would be to pull his teeth.

I handed over the research report I'd prepared in secret.

Fearing Mayor Liu might get the wrong idea, I gave elaborate explanations, but the more I explained, the worse I made myself appear.

Mayor Liu didn't pay the slightest attention to me. The more he read, the brighter his eyes shone. He slapped the table and said, 'Comrade Huang Xiaoming, you've saved the best for last. This is exactly the report I was hoping for, not only factually accurate but also perfectly positioned. Xiaoming, do you know why I asked you to stay behind?'

I didn't dare speak. I shook my head. Mayor Liu laughed and said kindly, 'Xiaoming, there are more than seven hundred people in the Munic.i.p.al Government, and plenty of them have false degrees. I know exactly where those degrees come from. What I need are real scholars, with real abilities.'

Hesitantly I said, 'Mayor Liu, isn't your Number Two Department full of brilliant writers?'

Mayor Liu said earnestly, 'That's right, each one of them is a master of the formal style, but they have no ideas. I don't mean moral dogma, I mean creativity. That report from your office was written according to the formal style, but what you've given me here displays real creativity. You were the author of both reports, so I can tell you're adaptable! What do you think: would you be interested in a transfer to Number Two Department?'

I'd seen and heard plenty in my five years at the Research Office. 'Liberation of thought' had been a constant refrain since the beginning of the era of reform and opening up, which must mean that we'd previously been fettered by unliberated thought. There was nothing strange about hearing the words 'liberation of thought' from a standing vice-mayor who was accustomed to reading official doc.u.ments. All leaders said things like that.

But now Mayor Liu was talking about creativity in addition to thought, and that made me see him in a new light. I've always believed that Chinese philosophy is more a collection of empirical observations about the world rather than a complete theoretical system of ideas and values. That's the reason why we feel so keenly that we are still a developing country in terms of economic growth, yet don't seem to realise that we're also a developing country in terms of politics, culture and society. The theme of 'thought' has become nothing more than a political tool, but 'creativity' is still something new.

Now, as Mayor Liu spoke of 'creativity', I felt a sudden 'snow sweeps the sky, changing the face of the world' sort of impulse, and nodded vigorously. I said, 'Mayor Liu, a nation always needs someone who could break off one of their own ribs and use it as a torch. Those sorts of people are usually scholars. I hadn't expected a politician such as you would also have the courage to gaze up at the stars. It's not only a stroke of good fortune for the people of Dongzhou, it's also good fortune for myself!'

This was flattery, but it was sincere. A large part of what people live for is simply 'recognition'. Why else strive for success?

Thus, I was transferred to Number Two Department.

Having heard his reputation, I was worried about Department Head Zhao Zhong, so once I had moved into Number Two I played the role of the bonded servant, standing on his side in all things and exerting every effort to protect his interests.

As time pa.s.sed, I discovered that under Zhao's leadership Number Two Department was not only entirely hostile to creative thought, but it was completely bogged down by his authoritarianism. Believing he had played a role in my transfer, Zhao Zhong acted like a benefactor and treated me a scholar personally appreciated by Mayor Liu as his personal secretary, his lackey even. He bossed me about and I pa.s.sed the days swallowing bile. I lost not only the leisure that I'd had in the Research Office, but I also lost my dignity.

Zhao Zhong's most authoritarian treatment was his refusal to allow me to have any contact whatsoever with Mayor Liu, despite the fact that the responsibility for writing Liu's speeches still fell squarely to me. Zhao Zhong was clearly putting up defences. Though I made absolutely certain to keep myself under restraint, he knew perfectly well that if he gave me a chance to make frequent contact with the Mayor, then I would most likely become his replacement. I may have been a lowly department-level researcher, but if Mayor Liu wanted to change that 'researcher' to a 'head', he could do it as easily as blinking.

As it turned out, Mayor Liu seemed to forget me completely after my transfer. Everything I wrote went to Zhao Zhong, who took the materials I had laboured over and claimed the credit without so much as a nod of thanks. Intuition told me that Mayor Liu understood the situation, but why did he never call me in again? I couldn't solve that riddle, but one thing did attract my attention. When I first arrived at Number Two, Xu Zhitai, Ou Beibei and Zhu Dawei hardly gave me the time of day. At first I thought they were jealous of my high education level, and since I was department-level to boot, I was likely to get in the way of their own advancement. As time pa.s.sed, however, I found I was wrong. They were giving me the cold shoulder because I was too close to Zhao Zhong. They thought I had been transferred in by Zhao Zhong, that I was Zhao's man.

I couldn't survive without friends, so I tried to get closer to my new colleagues. None of them responded to my warmth. My mood turned gloomy. Though I was not an animal, I was being stuffed into a cage to make up a number. The most meaningful thing that could be done was to resist Zhao Zhong. I needed to wage an underground war, create a unified front.

I decided Xu Zhitai was the person who wanted most to overthrow Zhao. He had long brooded over the ossified state of the department. Xu was without a doubt the most ideal of torches. All he needed was a match to set him alight. And that match could be me. Once I got Xu Zhitai burning I could rest a.s.sured that Ou Beibei and Zhu Dawei would be fuel to the fire.

Timing would be everything, however. Opportunity, strategic advantage and human support would need to be in place. We could ill afford to lose. We would have to bide our time for now.

My opportunity finally presented itself when Mayor Liu was abruptly transferred to be the Vice-Governor of Qingjiang Province. Zhao Zhong was on an overseas trip. The next standing vice-mayor would perhaps be Peng Guoliang, but no reliable news had been released. The opportunity might not come again. Xu Zhitai had long since grown tired of waiting.

I invented a pretext to invite him for a drink and discovered that liquid courage is especially efficient. Once he'd gotten a little in him, Xu Zhitai started speaking his mind, and our discussion ranged widely. In the end we decided that, as far as politicians or conspirators were concerned, politics was the desire for and pursuit of power. It consisted of the tricks and techniques used to control others. But to a real statesman, politics was one method of leading a meaningful life, a method of protecting and serving people. Politics began with people of character. It is the conscience that calls to us. Since the days of Machiavelli, Western political theory has defined politics as a power game, but I believed that its beginning and end was ethics and conscience. Xu Zhitai brought up a question: seeing as Westerners had defined politics as a power game, how was one to master that game? Specifically, every civil servant wanted to find the way of officialdom, but what exactly was that 'Way'? We debated for a long time but neither could persuade the other. In the end we compromised. For now at least, the 'Way' was to get rid of Zhao Zhong.

We'd finally gotten to the crux of the matter. Xu Zhitai had long kept himself in check, and as soon as the topic changed to Zhao Zhong, his face took on a look of disgust and he started saying 'that hog' this and 'that hog' that. He was obviously desperate to get rid of Zhao and feared nothing except that I might sound the retreat. He had even higher hopes for what would happen afterwards. Xu had been vice-head of the department for ten years and his greatest wish was to become head.

I felt that the reason he had spent so much time treading water was that he didn't understand politics. Take this 'coup' as an example. If we drove off Zhao Zhong, the position of department head wouldn't necessarily be his. In fact it almost certainly wouldn't be. He wouldn't end up any better off than he was now. The most basic law of politics was obedience, and obedience was determined by degrees of power. If you tried to disobey the law of politics spoken or unspoken law you wouldn't get away with it. Politics required rules and was unworkable without them. How can the game be played if no one follows the rules? Wearing your heart on your sleeve like Xu Zhitai was the last thing you wanted to do.

Xu Zhitai would make a fine weapon, however. I could use him to get rid of Zhao Zhong and worry about the rest later. All revolutions needed their martyrs. Of course, Xu believed that I was partic.i.p.ating in the coup in order to become vice department head that's how narrow his thinking was. I was actually worried he wouldn't think that way. He believed that an ally was the same as a brother. That's another thing he didn't understand.

You can't say the coup didn't come off smoothly, nor that the result wasn't as we desired. It progressed according to plan. Zhao Zhong was driven out and sent to work as a secretary for a few days in the Munic.i.p.al Service Centre. He soon resigned.

After he was gone, Xu Zhitai's satisfaction lasted less than a month, ending when the new standing vice-mayor, Peng Guoliang, selected a new head, Yang Hengda, for the department.

I had heard about the initial struggle between Vice-Mayor Peng and Vice-Mayor Liu for the position of standing vice-mayor. Relations between the two had always been strained. Now Vice-Mayor Peng had gotten his wish, but Vice-Mayor Liu had been elevated even higher, to Vice-Governor of the province. Peng Guoliang was sure to be unhappy, and he had to have his own reasons for choosing the Old Leader's secretary to direct his own office.

Peng Guoliang was a previous chief of the Munic.i.p.al Youth League of Dongzhou City and had made bureau-level by the age of twenty-nine. I'd never had much contact with him. I'd just heard that he was straightforward and deeply loyal to those who worked under him. They say that 'the lakeside pavilion gets the moonlight first'. Being near to power has its advantages. Working in the combined affairs departments of the Munic.i.p.al Government was good in that you were constantly in the company of the mayors. Zhao Zhong used to block our access, and had ruined any chances I might have had with Liu Yihe. Though I hadn't yet figured out Yang Hengda, he seemed broad-minded, as you might expect of someone who'd been the Old Leader's secretary, and was not simply treading water.

Hu Zhanfa, Peng's secretary, had been with him for five years. You could tell by the awe with which Zhu Dawei treated Hu Zhanfa that he was planning to become Hu's replacement. I'd never really thought about becoming secretary to a mayor, but given how little chance I had of becoming vice-head or head of the department, being a mayoral secretary was my last hope. Zhu Dawei and I each had our strengths. It would come down to which of us gained greater appreciation from Mayor Peng.

Zhu Dawei was obviously thinking to use Hu Zhanfa to 'save the country by roundabout means'. This was an ill-advised move from the start. No matter how close he was, Hu Zhanfa wasn't Mayor Peng himself, though of course he could put a very effective bug in his ear. There was no doubt that anyone who wanted to replace Hu Zhanfa in the lofty position of mayor's secretary would have to work both ends at once, and at the very least keep Hu Zhanfa from saying anything bad about him.

Zhu Dawei got a leg up on me by rendering a great service to Hu Zhanfa. Hu was studying for an in-office master's degree and was having a terrible time preparing for the foreign language test. Zhu Dawei took it for him, scoring a surprising eighty-seven per cent.

Even Ou Beibei's thoughts and efforts were bent on Mayor Peng. In recent days, there was a certain glow in her eyes when she looked at him.

When Yang Hengda first arrived he gave Ou Beibei, who had only ever had an administrative position in the department, a chance to try her pen. If you worked in Combined Affairs and couldn't write, you'd never get to advance. Ou Beibei didn't think she was a particularly bad writer and had always been troubled by the fact that she wasn't given writing a.s.signments. Yang Hengda, not wanting to be accused of holding talent back, a.s.signed Ou Beibei to write an article ent.i.tled 'A Year-to-date Summary of Export-Oriented Economy in Dongzhou, and Prediction of Rest-of-year Development Trends'.

Ou Beibei took the opportunity very seriously, hoping to show her talents in front of everyone, but when the article was done and handed to Yang Hengda, he actually started laughing, and couldn't help reading a bit out loud: 'Export-oriented economy in Dongzhou is developing like a tiger descending from the hills, with bamboo-bursting force.'

Zhu Dawei and I couldn't help laughing. Ou Beibei knew she'd become a joke, and her embarra.s.sment turned to fury. She stalked up to Yang Hengda, s.n.a.t.c.hed the article back and tore it to shreds.

Ou Beibei was still different from the female administrative workers in other offices, though. She could speak fluent English and was often taken by various vice-mayors to meet foreign guests, to the point where the director of foreign affairs had lodged a protest with Xiao Furen. When Vice-Mayor Peng became standing vice-mayor, he asked Ou Beibei to interpret every time he met a foreign guest. She'd more or less become his personal interpreter, and she seemed transformed because of it, particularly the light in her eyes when she looked at him. It was already leading to rumours.

The Fountain Pen.

IF THE SERVANTS of the people are unable to think with their fountain pens, then what use do they have for the heads on their shoulders? The world might be conquered with the barrel of a gun, but it is ruled with the barrel of a pen, though you all seem to have forgotten what a pen is for.

Let me tell you: I am the embodiment of thought itself. I'm not for drawing idle circles. A great Western thinker once said that all human dignity arises from thought. Thought begins with a pen, and thus I am your dignity. But you seem to have forgotten me altogether.

Wake up! I am the torch that lights the way of your official career. Without my illumination, you'll be led astray! I'm not trying to frighten you. Just browse through history history is written with a pen. You all want to go down in history, right? Well, without me you'll be denied the tiniest share of immortality! Those who cannot think with a pen are mediocre. Civil servants who cannot think with a pen will never become politicians, much less statesmen. Don't bother telling me you don't want to be a statesman or a politician, that you're happy being a regular old civil servant. I know you could never be satisfied with being ordinary. If you could, you'd have your choice of careers. Why insist on being a civil servant? Even as a plain civil servant, if you want to carry out your duties successfully, you will need to learn to think with a pen.

You are the executors of the nation's policies, you are promulgators, you are sowers, you are service personnel. It is not only official doc.u.ments you author (state policy and law), but it is human relationships, it is righteousness, fairness and justice. Use your pens to write the beauty of human life, to scourge its ugliness and evil!

I am a ship that can take you to your ideal far sh.o.r.e. I am an ocean that can broaden your minds and hearts. I am a mountain that can elevate your souls. I am medicine that can cure the mediocrity of your heart. Don't you yearn for the heights? You won't be able to climb up there. You can only fly up like an eagle. Spread your wings. I am the pinions of your soul.

I should remind you, however, that if you don't have lofty aspirations you should never perch above the abyss like a bird. Soaring into the sky can bring joy to the heart, but it can also bring terror to the soul. Ambition is not enough in politics. You also need wisdom. It's a game of both heart and head.

You public servants who have lost the pen, how will you travel with me? Don't ask me whence you've come; I care only for where you are going. But I can tell you where I've come from. Remember well: I come from truth. I am at once the author of truth and its servant. I would never dare place myself above truth. Would you?

I will help you, of course. Don't think that I'm merely a pen. I tell you, my ancestors and all the rest of my kind are your mirrors. Don't you often say that history will be the measure? You could also say that the pen will be the measure, and if you regularly use me to inspect yourself, that self will not be lost.

Power will not only spin your head, but it will distort your soul. Public servants who have forgotten what a pen is are already standing at the edge of a cliff. The mountain across from you rears up into the clouds and a pyramid gleams at its peak. It lures you with its glow, but without me as your wings, don't even think of taking a single step forward! Do you think there's still time to pull up short? Just try it! That stone beside you has already tumbled down, and by the time you hear the echo it will already be shattered into dust. Do you want to plunge after that stone? Feel your heart and see if it is still beating!

Why are your expressions so cold? Because you have lost me, you have lost thought, lost your intelligence, lost your wisdom, and have nothing left but a cold heart. How can your flesh remain warm when your blood has cooled? If you aren't warm-blooded you'll never understand what is meant by 'the people'. I'll tell you, 'the people' consists of both you and the common folk. Collectively, you are fish and water, you are one. Don't ever think of yourselves as officials, otherwise 'the people' will no longer be whole.

It's been a while since you wrote the words 'the people', hasn't it? I mean since you wrote them with feeling, since you engraved them on your heart. Simply writing the words down is meaningless. Since you call yourselves the servants of the people, 'the people' must be the entirety of your soul!

The ambitious will say that 'soul' is simply a synonym for the body. Those who are numb of spirit will agree: the soul is simply another form of the body. True public servants would snort in disdain, because they use pens as scalpels, to cut open the body how much more so the soul under the shadowless light of the spirit. One thing is for sure: those ambitious people who have forgotten the people have no souls, and the souls of the numb of spirit will truly become their bodies. There's something I want to say to those who scorn the soul: they scorn it because they are prostrated before it in worship. But who is it who has created this scorn and this worship? It is those who abhor the pen, of course. They worship the soul because they themselves have none, and because they have no soul they naturally scorn it. If only you were to use a pen to illuminate these soulless bodies, they would instantly regain their original form, and that mad, pitiful ambition would vanish like smoke.

Do you know the difference between greatness and insignificance? It's no more than a pen; a single fountain pen. You may laugh at my presumption, but that's because you've never troubled to look to the stars. A nation needs someone to be looking to the stars. Maybe you did once. So which is more insignificant: political power or the stars? Your answer is perfectly obvious, and that's the lure of politics. Only now do I understand why you would enter politics: because politics is mesmerising. But politics is meant to be sought, not pursued. The world is divided into a near sh.o.r.e and a far sh.o.r.e. The near sh.o.r.e is reality, the far sh.o.r.e the ideal. Pursuers will never depart this sh.o.r.e, and only seekers can hoist the sail of idealism.

By what means do we seek? You will say 'thought', which is quite correct, but what do we use to think? Now we're talking about me again. Some take my meaning and are quietly exultant, thinking I will bring them glory. But they're dreaming. No matter how important I may be, I will never become a shortcut for those who pursue. I should warn you: there has never been such a thing as a shortcut to success. Why should you use me to think? Because I am the feeler, the root, that your own brain was too lazy to send forth. If you want to really think, you'll need to root yourself in the soil of the people's practical lives. The poet Ai Qing once said, 'Why are my eyes so oft full of tears? Because I love the land so deeply.' That's land, remember. Not mud, not marble, not floorboards, and definitely not the flooring of your sedan. 'Land' can mean many things, of course. It can mean fields, it can mean factories, it can mean schools and communities and oil fields and mines. Do you understand? It means real life, real experience! Only by standing on that kind of land can I send forth my feeler of thought into the soil and allow you public servants to experience real knowledge.

How long has it been since you stood upon the land? Do you remember the fragrance of the soil? I know that the ignorant and ambitious have long since forgotten. If your speeches never stray from the script, why not pick up the pen and try writing them yourself? I've already said a pen is not for marking circles or writing signatures. You're not superstars, so why pretend? Learn from practical experience, but think with the pen.

Remember what a great man once said: 'Leadership can be extended most broadly with the pen. What is written travels farthest, and the process of writing refines and concentrates the thoughts. The pen is the primary tool of leadership.'

Plainspoken words to be sure, but that's real insight. Who said that? It was the master architect of China's 'Reform and Opening Up'. He insisted time and again that the pen is the primary instrument of leadership, one that would have to be mastered in order to lead one's comrades. I'll tell you, wielding the pen is not a technical issue, but rather a basic principle of leadership, and a crucial influence upon peace and prosperity. Don't think I'm making too much of this. The lessons of history should be heeded. Grasping power means grasping a pen. The authoring of essays has long been known as 'the heart of statecraft, and the work of immortality'.

Throughout history, around the world, great statesmen have always taken care to cultivate their literacy. Ancient political doc.u.ments bore strict professional demands. What were those demands? It was required that an official with a particular function must personally author all doc.u.ments connected to that function. No ghostwriting or cheating would be brooked. It would result at least in demotion, possibly in further punishment.

Use the pen to unearth the deepest treasures of your heart. The thoughts of one can influence the many, and the thoughts of the many can influence a nation, or even the world.

Now you see what the way of politics is, don't you? It's simply the way of the pen. Never mind the black cap of office. I am your true crown. But not everyone can wield this crown. They say that whoever has popular support has the realm, and it is those who have thought that have popular support! I am the incarnation of thought. Stop raising up your monuments. I am already in your hand!

It's a shame that I and my brethren have been locked so long within your drawer. Those who have forgotten us are now seated sanctimoniously at office desks, in conference rooms, on sofas, in cars. They speak endless false words and spew forth empty phrases, and don't realise that in losing their pens they have lost their lives. You're laughing once again at my self-importance . . .

They are still breathing, to be sure, but life is more than just breathing. I have never drawn breath, yet I live forever.

Number Two Department, Junior Department-Level Researcher, Ou Beibei.

IN DREAM OF the Red Chamber, Jia Baoyu says, 'Girls are in essence pure as water, and men are in essence muddled as mud. When I see a girl I feel light and refreshed. When I see a boy I feel repulsed and disgusted.'

Girls are made of water so that they might wash the world clean. I don't actually like Jia Baoyu's words. Comparing women to water makes their virtue seem too easy. I think women are made of jade. At least, beautiful women are made of jade, and beautiful civil servants are the most costly and exquisite jades of all. Jades like those concentrate the essences of heaven and earth, of the sun and the moon. Firm yet mellow, delicate yet wise, pure and retiring, enticing and beautiful.

I am known as Ou Beibei but my proper name is Feng Xinyu, yu for jade, stone of the spirits, of fate. After five years of marriage, however, my husband hasn't given me so much as a pebble. He's caught up in his work all day long. Yet for all his scurrying, he's only a director-level section member in the Foreign Investment Bureau office. Watching other women's husbands rise in the world while my own can barely manage to hold his head up how can I be content as a wife? If I were just an ordinary person that would be one thing, but I was an outstanding student at the Language Academy and the one all the boys kept an eye on, and now I am the most beautiful civil servant in the Munic.i.p.al Government. How can a woman like me be married to a mere director-level section member? It's demeaning!

w.a.n.g Chaoquan started out quite promising. During military training at college he hit the target every time and even the drillmaster was impressed. He told him that if he joined the army he could be a general. Chaoquan was head of the cla.s.s all four years of college, the best in every subject. He was a miracle student, and what's more, he wrote wonderful poems that were often published in the school paper. He began pursuing me our soph.o.m.ore year and his love poems were awfully sentimental. One in particular I remember perfectly. It started, 'My dear, I am vexed at my inability to press you in my arms, your cherry lips have brought me magic, so let me love you, embrace you, kiss you!' What kind of poem is that? It's barefaced seduction! I just don't understand how, if he can pursue a woman so single-mindedly, he is still so hopeless at forwarding his career.

He speaks three foreign languages fluently: English, Russian and German. German isn't spoken by more than a handful of people in the Dongzhou Government. Even the Foreign Affairs Office has no qualified German interpreters. This alone has let him accompany munic.i.p.al and department leaders on several trips to Germany. Anyone else would have used the opportunity to get closer to the leaders, but he doesn't know how to turn these things to his advantage.

I've always wondered if he once took a knock to the head that somehow rendered him unfit for officialdom. Never mind official rank, if you spend all that time around consuls and commercial counsellors and get friendly with them, you can leave the service and start a commercial empire based on your foreign investment contacts. But Chaoquan seems to have no interest in money whatsoever. I don't know what he spends his days thinking about, either. When other people read books, they read Romance of the Three Kingdoms, On Politics or Thick Black Theory things that at least might have some benefit to your political career. But he's always got his nose in something like A History of the KGB, or Delta Force: Anti-Terrorism Unit, The Future of the War on Terror, A History of Global Anti-Drug Law or Black Triangle. We can't even agree on TV shows to watch. I like soaps and romances and he likes mysteries and thrillers, buying complete sets of James Bond, Mission Impossible or Infernal Affairs. It's as though he works in the Public Security Bureau, not the investment promotion one. It looks like I'm bound to become a bitter old woman. I won't let that happen!

It's not that I no longer feel love. I am in love, just not with my husband. The love I feel, I must keep buried in my heart. The one I love is so lofty I hardly dare look at him. I can only gaze upon him from a distance. I want to scald him, to freeze him, to warm him. I want to kiss his heart, listen to its beating. In my own heart I repeat a line of poetry: 'My dearest, don't be angry. I only wish to sleep next to you!'

This is the most physical of poetry, and my physical body is all I have. Why are there people in this world who only love the soul and not the body? The soul is not to be loved, it is only to be praised. Why are we forced to choose between love and praise? Why do they almost seem opposed to one another?

I look forward most of all to being his interpreter. He never asks for an interpreter from the Foreign Affairs Office. Every time he meets foreign guests he requests me as his personal interpreter. Those are the times that I am happiest, because then I am closest to him. He is like a grand mountain and I am a limpid spring at the foot of that mountain. What a perfect pair we make! But I cannot even call his name. I can only think to myself, Mayor, why can't you cast a single tender gaze at me? Are you afraid I'll seduce you? But I do want to seduce you! Don't you love the soul and detest the body? Well, let's see if I can use my body to seduce your soul!

You're no fool, Mayor Liu. You ought to know. My body is a ship upon which you may explore. It is a bed where you may rest. It is a desk where you may work. My existence is for your life. I want to use existence to slip inside you, to make you think about existence, need existence, love existence. And yet you disregard existence. You disregard my existence. Though I send you glances as inviting as the summer sky, you seem to look right through me.

A mayor needs the love of his people, but he needs the love of a woman even more. I want to be his woman. What's so wrong about that? I know why you're laughing at me. It's because I love a mayor, not a man, right?

I am a swan, not a toad, though there is a toad among us: Zhao Zhong, head of Number Two Department. That d.a.m.ned hog, fat as a ball and rolling around the office all day long with a bellyful of malice. He dares have designs on me! A mere department head, a cringing dog that wags its tail and fawns over Mayor Liu you dare try your luck with me?

I can't bear him, particularly when he comes over all smiles, like sticky cow manure crushing a flower!

The two of us were alone in the office one day and he saw his chance, walking over with a book of jokes written in the Qing Dynasty, saying how terribly funny it was, and starting to read without so much as a by-your-leave: 'An official was promoted, and said to his wife, "My position is now greater." His wife said, "That being so, I wonder if that has become greater?" He replied, "Naturally so." They busied themselves, and the wife complained that he was as small as before. He said, "It is much larger, but you cannot feel it." She asked, "Why can't I feel it?" He answered, "When a man is promoted, is his wife not elevated with him? Mine has grown larger; yours has grown larger as well."'

Isn't that s.e.xual hara.s.sment? And if it were true that it did get bigger with promotion, well, Liu Yihe is a mayor and Zhao Zhong you're only a department head, so he must be plenty bigger than you!

No wonder when corrupt officials are exposed they usually turn out to have a crowd of mistresses. If that gets bigger along with promotion, but their mistresses grow larger right along with them, of course those officials would never be satisfied! It ought to be that the mistresses get progressively smaller, otherwise the corrupt officials would start abandoning their loosening mistresses!

Zhao Zhong could tell I wasn't amused, and read another one.

'A husband and wife had both grown quite fat, and every time they were together their bellies got in the way. An old woman told them, "I'll tell you a trick. Try going in from the rear." The couple tried it, and found it was quite pleasurable. The next day they asked the woman, "Where did you learn that trick you told us?" Her answer was, "From watching dogs and b.i.t.c.hes."'

This joke I found tremendously funny, because Zhao Zhong's wife is as fat as he is.

My love for Mayor Liu was stymied when he was promoted to Vice-Governor of Qingjiang Province. A vice-mayor was already high enough. A vice-governor was way out of my reach.

Peng Guoliang, the youngest member of the Munic.i.p.al Party Committee, stepped up as standing vice-mayor. I'd always had a good impression of Peng Guoliang since he, like Liu, asked me to be his interpreter when meeting foreign guests rather than using the Foreign Affairs Office. He was different than Mayor Liu in one sense though: he never avoided my gaze. Peng Guoliang was younger and more handsome than Mayor Liu, and my heart began to stir once more.

Then came the coup in Number Two Department. Xu Zhitai and Huang Xiaoming gave fatty Zhao the shove and we got a new department head, Yang Hengda. Yang gave Xu all the overseas trips and made Huang Xiaoming responsible for all articles and materials. What's more, he let Huang deliver them to Mayor Peng in person. At first I couldn't understand what Yang Hengda was doing. Then I realised he was aware that Xu and Huang had teamed up to dispose of Zhao Zhong. They couldn't be allowed to continue their alliance. It was best that they be divided.

Zhu Dawei and I had our opportunities, of course, though we weren't put in charge of any major projects. But I couldn't complain about that. I've always thought the ability to write was a matter of natural talent. I don't have that talent and neither does Zhu Dawei. When I arrived at the department, like him I dreamed of becoming secretary to a mayor, but male mayors were never given female secretaries. They said it was to avoid unhealthy relationships.

Of the mayor and nine vice-mayors, only one was female, served by Number Four Department. She was in charge of all munic.i.p.al organs of public security hardly prestigious work but if I became her secretary, I could possibly go from there to become director of the political arm of the munic.i.p.al Public Security Bureau. There were no women working in Number Four Department and the term of the present secretary was nearly up. The female vice-mayor needed a new secretary, selected from the staff in all combined affairs departments. I was the most likely choice, and the female vice-mayor liked me, but then someone began talking behind my back, saying I was too pretty and she would look poor by comparison. The vice-mayor really was average looking, though she had a fine, imposing air. But I had too many compet.i.tors. My heaven-sent opportunity was s.n.a.t.c.hed up by a girl from Number Five Department. My opportunity to become a mayor's secretary was lost because of my beauty. Is beauty a sin?

That was the end of my opportunities. I couldn't count on my husband, much less my parents. I could only rely on myself. I had two major resources. The first was my beauty, the second was my foreign language abilities, and if these two advantages were to change my future, it would need to be by means of love.

I would never have dreamed that my love would waver between wealth and power.

It began with a trip to burn incense at Ci'en Temple, on the West Mountain.

Tales of the efficacy of the Mother G.o.ddess of Ci'en Temple had been making the rounds of public citizens and civil servants. The stories were eerie: no matter what you asked for, you would get it, so long as you asked sincerely.