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it’s my ideal choice.”
    “Why the Propaganda Department?” I persisted in this line of questioning.
    “The people cannot rely just on material power; they have to have spiritual power, too, for the people to be united. Hard power is important, but soft power is equally important. I think the Propaganda Department is vital, but it’s not doing as well as it could; it could do even better.”
    “How could it do better?” I asked. He seemed to have it all down pat.
    “For example, they don’t understand the Internet and netizens well enough; they don’t really know about the trends in national youth culture. I could make a real contribution in these areas. I’m studying law and I could provide solid legal backing for the Propaganda Department’s policy decisions. That would contribute to the state’s ‘rule of law’ policy. Of course I’m still young and I have my immature and romantic idealist side—but I think the Department is very romantic and idealistic.” He began to look a little embarrassed.
    “Romantic? Idealistic? What do you mean?”
    “You’re a writer, you should know. The Propaganda Department guides the spiritual life of the entire nation.”
    I begin to tire of this topic. “Do you ever have live gigs here?” I asked, gesturing toward the stage.
    “New bands and some community groups play here every night. I gave Grandma the idea. All sorts of young people come here, and that gives me a chance to understand what they’re thinking and doing. If you don’t do any survey work, you don’t have any right to talk about anything.”
    “In a place like this you’re going to have some bad elements mixed in with the innocent kids. Won’t that influence your future?”
    “You underestimate our Party and our government. Everything is under the Party’s and the government’s control; they know everything.”
    “Well, it’s been great talking to you, Wei Guo, but I need to get going.” He must have thought I was pretty backward.
    “Have a good time in Beijing. Write more articles on the true face of China so our Taiwanese compatriots won’t so easily believe the Western media.”
    I was about to ask him to tell his Grandma I was leaving, when she appeared.
    “Leaving already?”
    “I have some business on the Eastside, so I’d better leave early to beat the traffic.”
    “Come back when you can and have some Guizhou goose.”
    “Of course … You take care of yourself, Big Sister.”
    As we shook hands, Big Sister slipped me a piece of paper. We both felt a little reluctant to part.
    Just as I was reaching the door, Wei Guo turned to me with a cold look. “Master Chen, have you seen my mom lately?”
    “No,” I lied.
    He said good-bye politely, and I nodded back. I couldn’t help taking another look at his snow-white sneakers.
The year of Lao Chen’s zodiac sign
    This year is the year of my zodiac sign, and a lot of strange things are bound to happen. Things like getting so worked up that I burst into tears, or like meeting Little Xi and Fang Caodi one after the other after such a long time—I think all these things are vaguely connected.
    It’s been a long time since I’ve run into anyone so completely out of tune with the prevailing mood as Little Xi and Fang Caodi. Of course, China is a huge country and you can meet all sorts of different people. From the mid-1980s, when I first came to the mainland, up until a few years ago, I knew quite a few dissatisfied people like them, but there are fewer and fewer of them now. I have not associated with such out-of-sync types since the global economy went into crisis and China’s Golden Age of Ascendancy officially began.
    Let me describe for you the three types of people I most frequently come into contact with now:
    The first type is made up of people like my cleaning lady. I hire only laid-off female workers who live in Beijing with their families. That’s because I’m away from home a lot and it makes me feel safer. My