Chapter 21
"Do you have anything going on at work tomorrow?" my mother asked me.
"No translation assignments."
"Your father and I just got back. We miss you. Let's play golf together."
"No assignments doesn't mean no work," I said.
"How is there no work? Isn't being my interpreter work?" father said, "Tomorrow I've arranged to meet some friends from Benin, and you'll interpret for me."
I didn't say anything more. My dad, having started his career in high-level French translation, only worked with professional interpreters after becoming a senior official.
The next day, the African friends I met on the golf course struck me as extraordinary the moment I saw them. They wore expensive clothes and leather shoes. They all spoke impeccable French from mainland France, without the slightest hint of an African accent, and one gentleman had a diamond ring larger than a mahjong tile. I followed my father around the course as he played golf with them, discussing the coal mine project in Benin, walking and stopping through the lush green expanse, standing by the sea, feeling the breeze.
I wasn't interested in competing, and my attitude wasn't very enthusiastic. My father glanced at me several times, but he couldn't show his frustration in front of the foreigners and had to handle it himself.
"For the initial phase, the budget you proposed last time—I think it could be reduced. Let's say 20 million dollars. I'll treat it as an experiment and then decide," my father said.
"I could take 20 million myself," the foreigner said with a tone that was neither too soft nor too harsh, "Don't joke."
"If you can handle 20 million, do you have the follow-up funds? Don't let it sit there stuck, unable to move." From a young age, my father always told me, whether dealing with white or black foreigners, you should never indulge them. He never spoke softly.
I knew that my father had his own business dealings. Officials like him were not uncommon in this city, yet he used his power and connections to earn even more.
But now, hearing those enormous figures they were tossing around left me feeling somewhat detached from reality. My thoughts drifted to someone else struggling for money, looking contented.
I made a phone call to her, but as usual, no one answered at her dorm.
"Dad, I have something to do. I'll take my leave," I said.
I didn't wait for his permission.
Cheng Jiayang
I returned to the school, found out where Fei's dorm was, and asked the lady at the dorm building to try calling her through the internal line. She was still not there. I started to get a bit anxious. I asked the lady, "Is it vacation time now?"
"There's no vacation, but students can leave the campus after their exams are over. Who are you looking for?"
"Qiao Fei, from the French department."
"Qiao Fei went back home," someone said behind me.
I turned around to see two girls with damp hair, as if they had just returned from a shower. Recognizing me, they nodded, "Senior."
"Why did she go home? When did she leave?" I asked.
"Monday morning, just yesterday," they said, their eyes now full of curiosity.
"Oh no, what am I going to do?" An idea came to me and I naturally inquired about her address, "She still has the payment for her last translation job with me. Do you have her home address? I'd like to send it to her."
"I have it, I have it here," the lady said from the mailroom. "It's on her registration form for the dorm."
I copied down the address. Fei lived in a medium-sized industrial city in the Northeast. I looked closely at the address and felt something was missing. "Is there no phone number?"
"Hmm. She didn't leave her home number."
It was now Tuesday, 11 a.m., a day and a half since Fei had left that hotel, and two days before my trip to Canada. Two hours later, I was on a plane to Shenyang.
(End of Chapter)
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