In the fall of 1999 I had just arrived in Shanghai. I had no real friends to speak of, so I spent my free time hanging out in bars, jotting things down on my aging laptop. Back then my favorite spot was the “Tranquil Eaves”, near the corner of Yanchang Lu and Pingxingguan. As the name implies, this was one among a number of seedy bars, all of them steeped in an intangible decadence, standing in the gloom amidst the fallen leaves of the Chinese Parasol trees. The European-style plush sofas on the second floor were large and comfortable, originally very luxurious, but by the time I got to Shanghai their velour had worn thin. As far as the Tranquil Eaves was concerned, I had arrived too late to enjoy its heyday. As for Shanghai itself, however, perhaps I had arrived just in time. The 1999 version of Shanghai held a nervous, positive, nearly palpable energy; it was almost as if you could see the steam rising off of people's faces. Even so, I was the sort of person who rarely went out daytimes and never watched the evening news, so all that highly contagious energy still failed to infect me.

　　My standard order at the Tranquil Eaves was a “Dizzy Nude”, a drink that definitely represents Shanghai's taste for blended flavors. The locals here favor sweet and sour, though, whereas a Dizzy Nude is both astringent and bitter: Tequila and lemon juice, add milk and mix. In the beginning, I didn't much care for it. When you mix milk and lemon, the calcium precipitates out in a fine white sediment which tastes faintly rotten. But I gradually came to appreciate its mixture of grief and joy. That aspect of pleasure in hardship quite suited my mood of the time.

　　In those days there were many sleepy afternoons where I would while away my time at the Tranquil Eaves. If I had nothing special to do, no one in particular to meet, why not just pop in for a drink? The first glass I would raise in a toast to the heavens. The clear autumn sky is intoxicating, inciting one to down a glass or two. The second round? I would toast the passers-by. Each one had the admirable, hurried gait of people on the proper course. The third? To the slight breeze in the trees. Rustling the leaves till they dance and sing must be tiring work. The fourth? Well, there generally wasn't a fourth. While I remain in control, anything is possible; but not everything is beneficial. Anything is feasible, but not everything helps one to succeed in life. One should beware of temptation.

　　This particular day I wasn't drinking much; I was waiting for Zhang Xiaomin. She had forgotten a stack of books at my place the night before. True to form, she didn't keep me waiting long. At 3:59 p.m. she appeared, one minute early, breathing hard as if she had rushed to get there.

　　"Out of breath are we? That excited at seeing me again so soon?" I pulled out a chair to let her sit down.

　　"Panting over you? You're the one who should be panting", she sulked.

　　That said, she hung her coat over the back of the chair and called for a ginger ale. Zhang Xiaomin wore her flaming red hair in wild disorder. Though it failed to cover her navel, her emerald green top did manage a jarring contrast with her hair. Her jeans were of the instant worn-out variety, with a big rip in the lower thigh which left her kneecap peaking out at you when she crossed her legs. I could see that everyone in the bar was looking her over, but Zhang Xiaomin didn't seem to take any notice.

　　I passed the bag of books to her and lowered my voice. "So, we are excited; just don't want to admit it."

　　"Well, all right then, you really do turn me on, lover-boy. Will that do?" Zhang Xiaomin accepted the books and noisily took a great gulp of ginger ale.

　　"It will. But then you might have stayed over last night?"

　　"I can't really say why, but it wasn't from any lack of excitement." She paused for a moment, seemed to be considering something that escaped her. After a while she spoke again, "Perhaps I was just feeling desolate."

　　I finished my drink and called for another. "That could be the result of the 'One Child Policy'. Most of your generation in today's China have no brothers or sisters, sometimes even no cousins on either side: It must feel lonely."

　　"It's not just lonely; it's desolate", Zhang Xiaomin stubbornly corrected me.

　　Looking on the naive features of this pouting ingénue and not really understanding her drive, I said, "At your age, feelings of desolation should be unknown. You're still young. You shouldn't have personal experience with that sort of emotion."

　　"It really doesn't matter." She placed her hand on the table and remained immobile, as if lost in thought. After a while she looked at me and said, "How to say this? The day before yesterday, my boyfriend said he would love me forever, and asked if I would love him forever, too."

　　"Well, that's great, no?"

　　"But that's just when these feelings of desolation started", she cut me off, looking me square in the eye. "Thinking of spending one's whole life with just one person, from nineteen to ninety-seven, it's just too scary. Is that what forever is all about?"

　　"Then you don't love him?" I asked.

　　"I just don't know. It may have nothing to do with love. When you're alone there's always this inner dialog going on." She cocked her head and leaned over the table. "But to be together with someone, do you have to love them?"

　　"When you're together with someone love is bound to develop."

　　"So, last night together, was that love?"

　　That stopped me cold, and for a while I didn't know what to say. Truth to tell, there simply wasn't any appropriate reply.

　　She drank off the last of her ginger ale; her face was slightly flushed, a little drop of sweat sparkled at the tip of her nose. "I was wondering--if we were together--whether I would still have these feelings of desolation."

　　"Hmm!" I quickly shot her a careful glance. She didn't speak, seemed absorbed in turning round the trendy watch on her wrist, watching the little "Pokemon" figure on its face climb up a mountain with each passing second

　　"Being together with you wouldn't be the same. He puts a lot of pressure on me. You don't."

　　"Really?"

　　"Maybe it's because you don't love me."

　　The truth was that maybe I didn't love her, but just then I was quite incapable of saying so frankly. No matter how you look at it, though, she was still a lovely child: she shouldn't be having feelings of desolation.

　　Zhang Xiaomin said, "I feel like drinking some beer. Shall we get drunk together?"