Chapter Fourteen: Dr

After some time spent in reflection, I realized that perhaps we were no longer right for each other. She was now a graduate student, while I had failed my high school exams and had no diploma. The gap between us was widening. I had no money, no education, and no ability to make much of a living. Even if we were to marry one day, she would only end up sharing my hardships and struggles. Isn’t that so?

After much deliberation, I resigned from my job and came to Beijing. I interviewed at a pharmaceutical company and became a sales representative. I lived in the suburbs and commuted into the city for work. At that time, I lived in Yandan Village, Changping—considered a large but impoverished area, a gathering place for migrant workers. Every day, I spent an hour on the bus to get to Oriental Pearl for work. My basic monthly salary was only a few thousand, but with commissions, the income was decent. Thus began my life as a drifter in Beijing.

About half a year later, through an introduction, I met my ex-wife.

That day, a group of friends and I had dinner together. Afterward, we went to sing karaoke, and a few women joined us in the private room. They were all young people trying their luck in Beijing. Among them was Liu Cui, a Beijinger—the only local there. She turned to me and said, “Hello, I’m Liu Cui. How should I address you?”

I replied, “My surname is Liu as well—Liu Jian.”

She smiled, “What a coincidence, we both share the same surname!”

She asked, “What do you do?”

I answered, “I’m a medical guide, a pharmaceutical rep.”

She continued, “So you must know people in all the major hospitals?”

I said, “More or less, I have contacts with the heads of various departments.”

She said, “That sounds like a promising career.”

I replied, “It’s all right, just enough to get by.”

She was quite talkative, but she didn’t leave much of an impression on me. She was older than I was, a native of Beijing, and dark-skinned and plump. I didn’t think she was right for me.

After a night of fun, everyone went their separate ways. We all exchanged WeChat contacts—just to keep in touch as friends.

That night, I returned home but couldn’t sleep. I wandered the streets alone, feeling lonely and helpless, unable to see any hope ahead. Each month, my income barely covered rent and food. Though I could make ends meet, there was never anything left over. I always had to save a little to get by until the next paycheck. Month after month, I spent everything I earned in Beijing, never able to send a penny home.

Just then, I received a phone call. It was Liu Cui. I was curious—why was she calling me?

I answered, “Hello, what’s up?”

She asked, “Did Longlong mention anything to you?”

I replied, “What about? Mention what?”

She said, “He said he’d introduce us, so we could get to know each other.”

I said, “Isn’t that what we’re doing now? After this call, aren’t we friends?”

She laughed, “Oh, you’re so straightforward! What I mean is, do you have a girlfriend?”

I replied, “What? I used to, but not anymore. We broke up.”

She said, “You see, I was born in ’87, two years older than you. Can we get to know each other?”

I answered, “We’re not a good match. I don’t want to date a Beijinger—I can’t afford it.”

She asked, “Why not?”

I said, “Beijingers are arrogant and look down on outsiders. It’ll never work.”

She said, “But not everyone’s like that, right?”

I replied, “Almost. I don’t have a good impression of people from Beijing. To me, they’re all the same. Outsiders like us have no money, no background, no future. You should look for someone else. I really don’t want to get involved with Beijingers. Our worlds are too different—why force it?”

After I hung up, I found it all rather laughable. With my circumstances, how could I possibly date a Beijinger? Would someone like her even be interested in me? Maybe I’d watched too many TV dramas. I didn’t dwell on it and kept wandering before returning to my rented basement room. There was nothing in it but a bed—just two square meters of space. The bed was two meters wide, just enough for sleep. As soon as I woke, I headed off to work. The main thing was that it was cheap.

About two months later, I happened to run into a friend, also an art major, who had come to Beijing to look for work. She was unfamiliar with the city, and since I had some free time, I helped her search for jobs, find a place to rent, and settle in. For several days, we went around to many kindergartens, art training centers, and drawing schools, but none of the positions seemed satisfactory. The monthly pay of three or four thousand was hard for a top student from Hebei Academy of Fine Arts to accept. She had come with big dreams, but reality was a cold shower. Still, she was unwilling to leave Beijing and kept searching, saying that a good talent would eventually find a good opportunity, that a worthy donkey would one day reach the millstone.

Yet, while she didn’t find a job, I encountered someone—her, the one who had once meant everything to me, but now felt both familiar and distant. In that moment, I didn’t know which way to turn.