There is a regular get-together of some of the nouveaux riches in Beijing. Often, the less rich – the reporters, models, and authors – are invited to party with them as their guests.
Just as Hollywood celebrities sometimes need groupies and paparazzi to create certain scenes, the new Chinese bourgeoisie need those who are not quite as rich to be their listeners. It is simply not good enough to enjoy the good life in private. A rich life has to be told and retold, and then gossiped about.
On a Tuesday evening, just a regular hot summer's day in Beijing, Beibei and I attend a party organized by these parvenus in a house that is located in a discreet and well-manicured suburban neighborhood.
When we arrive, some investment bankers have already gathered to discuss plans while sipping Jack Daniels. Their long-term goal is to retire at forty-five and their short-term goal is to improve their golf games. Everyone agrees that their approach shots and their putting techniques could be better.
Apparently, this is all standard talk in such gatherings of the newly rich, and part of the game. The thinking is that the good life needs to be told, especially to those who are have-nots. The hangers-on play their part too. Their envy and attentiveness are all part of the same game.
An interesting conversation between two female authors gets the attention of both Beibei and me.
One of them is called Andrea. "My English lover has a ranch in New Zealand. I love to do my writing there."
The other female author named Yani raises one eyebrow. "Really? Then, we're neighbors! I write from my beach house in Australia. If we have an attack of writer's block, we can fly over and meet for coffee."
An attentive female listener who looks a bit unsophisticated and naive like a college student exclaims, "Wow, you guys are real international freemen – no, free women! So cool! It's my first time to meet such people. I'm honored."
The two authors' faces radiate pleasure, the pleasure of being admired and envied. Yani smiles at the listener. "Well, I might be an international woman. But it doesn't matter where I go, I always like China the best."
"I know why she likes China the best: only China can guarantee her an audience when she brags." Beibei says under her breath to me.
As we walk around, we hear more hilarious lines popping up from the newly rich and famous. Some are quite creative and subtle:
"My life has been crazy! Breakfast in Hong Kong, lunch in Singapore, and dinner in Beijing!" "I only eat fresh vegetables from my own garden." "I walk nine holes every day." And so on. Always, there are listeners who show great admiration and envy.
I spot a friend whom I haven't seen for ages. Immediately he comes over to greet me. His name is Kevin Chen. Like many of my childhood friends, Kevin is one of the best and the brightest of the generation born after 1970. His path is also quite typical: he graduated from the People's University with a degree in international finance and then went to Stanford to get his M.B.A. He currently works for AIG.
"How's life?" Kevin greets me.
"Not bad. You?"
"The usual. You know – making friends in Beijing, doing business in New York, living in Shanghai, shopping in Hong Kong, vacationing in southern France and the Greek Islands," says Kevin nonchalantly.
Beibei murmurs to me, "This is the second time I've heard him say that."
"I bet you get a lot of frequent-flyer miles!" I say to Kevin.
Kevin nods. "Yes, but I really do hate flying. Of course, I hate eating lobster more." He punctuates this sentence with a laugh, obviously thrilled to enter the game again.
"Remember when we were young, you said in a class that your biggest dream was to fly someday," I remind Kevin.
"Really?" Kevin seems not to remember.
"Of course that was a long, long time ago, when China was still poor and you were still called Kai Wan," I say with an impish smile.