Read The Crazed for Free Online

surprised. As his prospective son-in-law, why hadn’t I gotten wind of this? Before I could say anything, Anling piped in, “How much did he spend?”
    “About eighteen hundred dollars,” said Weiya.
    “Goodness, who can pay off such an amount!” Anling turned to me and went on, “How much does he make a month?” At last her hands stopped folding a toffee wrapper into a crane.
    “One hundred and ninety yuan,” I answered.
    “That translates into how many dollars?”
    “About thirty,” Weiya told her.
    With his chin propped on his hand, Banping said, “But I heard that Secretary Peng tried to persuade the school not to make him pay it back. She said she had helped Mr. Yang out.”
    “I don’t believe a word of it,” Weiya brought out.
    “Neither do I,” I agreed.
    Five months ago Mr. Yang had gone to Canada for a conference on comparative literature. He had arrived at Vancouver too late to give his talk; yet seizing the opportunity, he visited San Francisco on his way back. Indeed, such a “sight-seeing trip” was inappropriate, yet making him pay for the fare and the hotel would ruin his family financially. Many leaders of our university had visited North America, Japan, Hong Kong, Africa, and Europe without accomplishing a thing, but they had never bothered about the expenses. And they often reminded us of how much the country spent for our education, saying it took at least seven workers or twenty-four peasants to support one college student.
    Banping sighed and said, “Anyway, it’s so hard to live a scholar’s life nowadays—you always have too much to accomplish and too little to live on.” He lifted his cup and sipped the piping hot tea. “Worst of all, as a poor scholar your fate is never in your own hands. That’s why I don’t want to stay here.” He looked me in the face and sighed again.
    I well understood his gaze. Unlike him, I would stay in academia. If I couldn’t get into the Ph.D. program at Beijing University, I’d soon begin teaching here. Truth be told, I didn’t mind what he said. He only meant to justify his decision to pursue an official career; also, he couldn’t help but lament our teacher’s collapse.
    Banping had decided to serve as a junior clerk in the Provincial Commerce Department after graduation. The position could be lucrative, but I felt he had made a mistake, because he, gauche and slightly dense, might have a tough time surviving in official circles and might never rise to a high post. Our graduate program had admitted him mainly because he had memorized some classics and excelled in the political exam that required no thoughts of one’s own. Some people considered him a complete blockhead. He really ought to remain at the university, where he could at least hold a secure job. I asked him half jokingly, “Did you get Anling’s permission to enter government service?”
    “You bet I did. If I weren’t going to the Commerce Department, she’d divorce me for sure.”
    Both his wife and he laughed. “Get out of here,” she said, raising her small fist to shove his shoulder. Her smile revealed her lopsided teeth and made her eyes almost disappear.
    “Why would you go to the Commerce Department?” I asked Banping. “You’ll have to grow another pair of eyes on the back of your head if you want to survive there.”
    “I have my reasons.”
    “What are they?” I asked.
    “Yes, tell us,” Weiya urged.
    “All right, number one, the Commerce Department has housing. They’ve promised me a three-bedroom apartment with a big balcony, all together more than a hundred square yards, which none of the young faculty here can even dream of. Number two, that department controls most of the merchandise produced in this province, so it’s a temple where companies and factories have to pay tribute—I’ll have lots of stuff to eat and drink. Are these two reasons not enough?”
    “More than enough,” I said, nodding while thinking,
He’s
so materialistic.