The neighborhood committee had recommended more than just Fang Muyang, but he was the only one selected.
On his way home from the hotel, Fang Muyang bought two liang of brown sugar and a small packet of red dates for Fei Ni. Back home, he used a small charcoal stove to simmer red date congee. The electric hot plate consumed too much electricity, so he hadn’t used it since returning and had sold it to exchange for the charcoal stove. The charcoal stove was more suitable for simmering congee than the alcohol stove they had at home.
Fei Ni held the bowl in both hands, sipping the red date congee Fang Muyang had prepared, as he told her that the neighborhood committee had recommended him for a job as a server at the foreign affairs hotel.
Fei Ni didn’t know what to say about the neighborhood committee recommending such a job to him.
She teased, "Honestly, you’re quite suited for this kind of work."
"We really are on the same wavelength—I think so too."
Fei Ni thought Fang Muyang was joking, as he often teased her.
Unexpectedly, Fang Muyang was serious about taking the job as a server at the foreign affairs hotel and was set to start training the next day.
Fei Ni had to get serious then. "We still have money at home, and you earn income from your sequential pictures. There’s no need to rush into a job. Wait a bit longer—maybe a better opportunity will come along."
"If a better job comes up, I can always switch. For now, I’ll take what’s available. Besides, I think this job at the foreign affairs hotel is decent enough."
"If you become a server, when will you have time to draw?"
Fang Muyang laughed. "Now that you’re sleeping in a separate bed, I have plenty of time at night. Since you won’t accept my affection, I’ll pour it all onto the drawing paper. Otherwise, my days would be unbearable."
"Why do you always steer the conversation this way?" Fei Ni stirred her spoon in the bowl, her voice softening. "You know my body isn’t in a condition for that right now."
"I know." But even when she was physically well, she avoided him. Fang Muyang didn’t bring that up, only saying, "I’ll wait until you’re better."
Fei Ni casually brushed the hair behind her ears forward, hiding her flushed earlobes. She didn’t respond to his remark, instead asking, "Have you really thought this through? You’re actually going to be a server?"
"I’ve made up my mind. I’ll try it out for a couple of days. If it doesn’t work out, I can always quit."
"It’s not as simple as you make it sound. You can choose not to go, but if you start and then quit, the neighborhood committee definitely won’t recommend any more jobs for you."
"I doubt the neighborhood committee will offer me anything better than this in the future. If I really end up without a job, I’ll focus on drawing sequential pictures at home to earn income." He kept to himself the idea of making furniture for extra money, as Fei Ni might not approve.
Fei Ni knew that once Fang Muyang set his mind on something, persuasion was useless. It was better to let him try. The worst outcome would be the neighborhood committee washing their hands of Fang Muyang, an unemployed youth. He was right about one thing—this was likely the best job the committee could arrange for him.
The loft bed, along with the cabinets and desk beneath it, was finished and coated with varnish, left to dry downstairs. When the unemployed youth Fang Muyang stopped making furniture downstairs, the neighbors knew he had found a job. Upon closer inquiry, they learned he had entered the foreign affairs hotel as a server.
The news reached Sister Liu’s ears. Fang Muyang had given up a job at the meatpacking plant, not to draw at home, but to serve foreigners.
When Sister Liu first heard the news, her initial thought was that Xiao Fang had lost his mind—how could being a server at a foreign affairs hotel compare to being a worker at the meatpacking plant?Although service workers were also part of the working class, Sister Liu, as a proper factory worker, did not consider those in the service industry her equals, reasoning that they did not create tangible value. Service staff at foreign affairs hotels were even less worthy of mention—they couldn't even compare to waiters serving the local populace.
Sister Liu was straightforward and spoke her mind without reservation.
"What on earth is Xiao Fang thinking? Passing up such a great opportunity in the slaughterhouse to work as a service worker at some hotel—and a foreign affairs hotel at that! For young people, what matters most is learning a proper skill. What skill is there in being a service worker? Last time, as soon as Xiao Fang turned it down, the position was given to someone else. Now there are no openings at the meat processing plant. Well, I’ll have my husband keep an eye out for Xiao Fang."
"Thank you, but please don’t trouble yourself over this." Unable to refuse Sister Liu’s kindness, Fei Ni had no choice but to continue the lie. "I’ve been too embarrassed to tell you, but our Xiao Fang faints at the sight of blood, so he couldn’t work in the slaughterhouse."
Sister Liu sighed. "So that’s how it is. He looks so tall and strong—how can he faint at the sight of blood?"
"Please don’t tell anyone else about this."
"Don’t worry." Sister Liu then comforted Fei Ni, "Fainting at the sight of blood isn’t such a big deal. You shouldn’t be too upset about it."
Fei Ni hadn’t expected that the training at the foreign affairs hotel would ignite Fang Muyang’s enthusiasm for learning. Fang Muyang borrowed her English dictionary, and aside from painting in the evenings, he spent his time looking up words and writing them down on paper.
During dinner, Fei Ni ate stir-fried cabbage with steamed buns, while Fang Muyang used his newly learned English to describe dishes like silky shark fin, butterfly sea cucumber, pigeon egg boat platter, and crab roe tofu...
Fei Ni picked a shred of meat from the cabbage and placed it in Fang Muyang’s bowl. "Stop drawing cakes to satisfy hunger and eat quickly."
"This isn’t drawing cakes to satisfy hunger. I’m reading the menu to you—which dish would you like?"
Fei Ni laughed. "Stop joking around. The food is getting cold." In ordinary restaurants, stir-fried shredded pork was already considered a good dish, let alone anything like what he was describing. Even if Fang Muyang ended up working in the hotel’s guest department, the restaurant’s dishes would have nothing to do with him.
To prevent female staff from being harassed by individuals with ill intentions, the hotel’s guest department was staffed exclusively by male service workers. Female service workers usually worked in the restaurant. Fang Muyang’s name had been assigned to the standard guest department from the start.
During the training, Fang Muyang demonstrated a strong aptitude for learning. Not only did he memorize the rules after just a few readings, but within a few short days, he was able to hold everyday conversations fluently in English. The hotel executive in charge of training recognized his potential. With his good looks and a thorough review of his file—which showed a clean history, strong ideological standing, and parents who, though once under supervision, had since been cleared—the executive felt it would be a waste to assign Fang Muyang to the standard guest department. Such talent must be deployed in the VIP guest department to serve important foreign guests and showcase the caliber of our nation’s service workers.
The foreign guests in the VIP guest department sometimes appeared in newspapers and television news.
Fang Muyang’s family didn’t own a television, and he had little interest in figures who might appear in the news. He had no desire to serve important foreign guests; he only wanted to work in the hotel’s restaurant.
To prove his suitability for the restaurant department, Fang Muyang closed the menu and described several dishes to the executive in English—succinctly and accurately.Forced endeavors bear no sweetness. Since Fang Muyang showed such passion for the restaurant department and demonstrated his capability in working there, the leadership had no choice but to grant his request.
On the final day of training, Fang Muyang brought home tomatoes and beef canned food he bought from the hotel store.
As soon as Fei Ni cracked open the door, she caught the mingled aroma of tomatoes and beef. Pushing the door wider, she saw a small pot steaming on the alcohol stove—the source of the enticing smell.
"Where did you get tomatoes?" It was winter, and the grocery store had no tomatoes for sale. Any tomato scent in the hallway came from tomato sauce made during summer, but that sauce was faint, nothing like the rich tomato fragrance wafting from the pot.
"The restaurant has a rule: if the kitchen has leftover vegetables, employees can buy them to take home. I bought these tomatoes from the back kitchen. Don't worry, I strictly followed the rules."
"Weren't you working in the housekeeping department?"
"The leadership thought I was better suited for the restaurant."
Fei Ni noticed the upper bunk looked different from before. The neatly folded quilt had been spread out, with one corner turned down, and a flower rested on it—a real flower.
The newly built bed was still outside; they planned to sell it on Sunday and move the new one in.
Pointing at the bed, Fei Ni asked Fang Muyang, "What's going on here?" It was rather embarrassing, placing a flower on the bed—that cut flower was probably also sourced from the hotel.
Fang Muyang explained, "If I were in housekeeping, I'd be required to perform turndown service for guests every night. But now that I've been transferred to the restaurant, the skills I learned in housekeeping have no use. I couldn't bear to let them go to waste, so I thought of you. I can serve you every day—please give me a chance to showcase what I've learned."
Aside from Fei Ni, Fang Muyang had no interest in performing turndown service for anyone. Yet his words made it sound as though he were eager to do it for guests, only unfortunate enough to have lost the opportunity.
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