The Phoenix Man

Before I left home for the date arranged by my mother, she became anxious. "Eat this up." She gave me a bowl of noodles. "So you won't appear to be hungry and eat too much in front of him in the restaurant." By "him" she meant Manager Xu, a thirty-two-year-old man who had a villa on the beach and two apartments downtown. I strove not to make any noise while eating noodles and my mother suddenly rested her hand on my shoulder, looking at me affectionately and with a little sadness. "It all depends on you, child." She hugged me and I felt stifled. "Tell me you can do that. Tell me you will succeed!" When she released me I saw tears in her eyes. She still grasped one of my hands. "Please remember, don't use your hand when eating. Don't use the chopsticks to pick up beans, corns, or tofu. No noise when drinking soup. Fish and ribs are dangerous while vegetables and meat cubes would be safe!"

"Don't worry, Mom." I patted her hand. "I'll only drink water for supper."

"Do eat." My mother examined my face for the last time and rouged my lips. "Or you will look fake."

The world changes once you pass twenty-five. Before you are twenty-five years old, everybody says: "Concentrate on your study! Go to university! Go to graduate school! The higher degree you have, the better you will be. You know how competitive it is now." After twenty-five, if you do not find Mr. Right, you become "leftover" immediately, regardless of your academic achievement. People all look at you with sympathy, as if being single were a public nuisance. And it is worse for me. As everyone knows, there are three types of people in this world: men, women, and female PhDs. "Go out and bring a man back! All your ancestors are looking at you from the heavens!" my mother ranted on my twenty-fifth birthday.

Later, when we had supper together, she only gave me one chopstick.

"How can I eat with one chopstick?" I asked.

My mother smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Now you see being single doesn't work?" She showed me her pair of chopsticks as if she had won. "The upper chopstick represents Yang, that is, man, and the lower one is Yin, which means woman. Things always come in pairs. So do people. Use your only chopstick, child, until you find the other one." But, I didn't say, the lower chopstick was used for support and did not move. I knew I would never be a lower chopstick.

Waddling out of the door like a duck, I could still feel my mother's eyes sticking to my back. I hitched up my skirt a little and put my right foot down the stair, as if I were wading across an unknown river. Damned high-heel shoes! I almost slipped on the third step. But I grabbed the banister in time, turned around, and waved to my mother, simpering.

"Be elegant! Be graceful!" My mother said solemnly, punching the air.

"You made me heartbroken, my little thermos." Ling called when I waited in front of the restaurant "Forbidden City." She loved to call me "little thermos," because she thought I looked cool outside but warm inside. "You didn't even tell me you were dating! Am I not your best friend?" she protested.

"Not yet, he has not come yet." I looked around. It was ten past six—Where are you, Mr. Manager? "How did you know that?"

"From some middle-aged broadcast station." She giggled. "You know, there is no secret in our community."

"This winter break is doomed to be a disaster for me," I moaned. "My mother is unshakable."

"You can't imagine how desperately I want to be there with you," Ling complained. "This damned training! It is no fun staying in Shanghai without you…I want to see that man and inspect him!"

"Then he would fall in love with you at first sight," I grunted, half-seriously. I saw...