Duì bù qǐ?
BastardSo, I lied. Now you’ll see why this is the end of one story and of course, that story being the one of Mei Lin and Victor. As mentioned before, two weeks prior to graduation, Mei Lin received the wonderful news that she has been offered an overseas job at GIBI headquarters. That’s right, overseas headquarters. But wait, Victor works at the American branch, you say? What’s a story without some conflict?
On one hand is what she’s been working towards for the last five years, but on the other is something similar, but with the person she loves. The logical choice would be to try a long-distance relationship and take the job of her dreams but realistically speaking, a long distance relationship halfway around the world might not work. Those are only some of the things going through Mei Lin’s head right now after being elated at the offer. No more backstory; present tense now.
“What time’s your flight?” Victor asks with a big grin.
“Nine am; the morning after graduation,” Mei Lin says, not sharing Victor’s excitement.
“Smile, Mei. This is a great opportunity. You’ll have your own office, your own lab and even your own team of assistants—”
“And a paycheck that’ll cover my student loans faster than Onew at the mention of chicken. I know, I know,” Mei Lin sighs, having heard this pep talk less than ten minutes ago from her parents.
“You’re not thinking about not going are you?” Victor asks. “It’s not really a hard decision—”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Vick. Whatever happened to ‘confidence is y?’ Listen to your own advice.”
“Don’t change the subject. I’m not going to keep you from developing the next breakthrough in surgical technology.”
“You’re not keeping me from anything. It’s my choice; I haven’t signed anything yet.”
“Let me help you pack—”
“Do you want me to leave?” Mei Lin asks, trying to figure out why and how this is so easy for Victor.
“I want you to do what you want and what you think is best,” Victor says.
Mei Lin sighs as she tries to figure out exactly what that is. Victor is appalled that she would even consider anything but taking the job, but he can see why it may appear as though he’s trying to get rid of her.
The two finish their dinner and Victor goes to put the plates in the sink as Mei Lin grabs the scrub sponge. They do the dishes in silence with the occasional melody coming from Mei Lin as she has a habit of humming to herself. Victor can tell from the look in her eyes that Mei Lin was considering all of her options with much debate. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t want to lose her, but Victor knows he’ll never be able to live with himself if she stays because of him. Rather selfish considering what he wants for her, which is the best.
That night when they go to bed, Mei Lin is still contemplating her choices, but by the next morning, she’s chosen and she doesn’t have to say anything for Victor to know that she’s staying in the States. His suspicions are confirmed when his supervisor brings Mei Lin up during their lunch break and how she was in his office earlier this morning asking about the openings.
“What did you say?” Victor asks, the strained undertone in his voice.
“I told her that I would get back to her,” his supervisor says.
The sigh of relief that hisses out quietly between Victor’s teeth tells his supervisor that he made the right choice. They get back to work but Victor can’t help but see Mei Lin working in this building, pushing papers or drawing up plans in some second-rate lab. Victor shakes his head of the image as if that would settle his conscience.
“So you’re really going to stay?” he asks Mei Lin that night as he helps make dinner.
Mei Lin doesn’t even bat an eye when she replies with, “Yes, it’s what I want.”
“Are you sure?” Victor asks. The probing tone of his voice insists on a different answer. “Is it for the best?”
“Why can’t you just be happy about my decision?” Mei Lin asks. She gets the sick feeling that Victor just wants to be rid of her.
“I am—”
“But?” There’s always a “but.”
“I would feel a lot less guilty if you took the job in China,” Victor finally admits.
“Just because I can speak Mandarin—”
“I can too, but they offered to send you overseas.” There’s a pause as the two collect their thoughts to support their side of the argument.
“Why can’t you accept the fact maybe I don’t want to risk losing you?” Mei Lin asks, dropping her guard and letting Victor see how honestly scared she is. “Long-distance isn’t impossible, but it’s rather difficult if you’re a good thirteen time zones apart and when the only thing you’ll have in common is the company you work for.”
“You won’t be happy working here,” Victor says.
“I’ll be happy in some other way,” Mei Lin smiles, kissing Victor and closing the discussion.
Mei Lin sleeps a bit less conflicted that night, but Victor on the other hand is tossing to the point where it wakes Mei Lin. Victor tells her that he was just getting a drink of water and Mei Lin believes him.
Victor brings up the topic one more time only to realize that Mei Lin is not going to budge on her decision. I can’t let her do this.
To make Victor feel a bit better about all of this, Mei Lin agrees not to sign anything until after graduation. As if time was going to change her mind. But Victor doesn’t make her promise this in hopes that she would reconsider; he does this to give himself some time.
After some careful planning and perfect timing, Mei Lin comes home to Victor making out on top of an old lab partner of Mei Lin’s on the couch after the graduation ceremony and the customary photos with family and close friends. Mei Lin had wondered where Victor had been and why he wasn’t at the ceremony but it’s clear to her now what he was doing.
The two stop the moment the door opens, but like any culprit that had been caught, they freeze as if there had been a policeman to tell them to do so. Mei Lin freezes as well as different possibilities and explanations run through her head. They all shatter at the impossibility much like the shattering pain building in her chest and the burning tears in her eyes.
“Out,” Mei Lin chokes.
The blonde quickly gets off the couch and slips on her flip flops before leaving, passing Mei Lin on the way, who is now shaking. The tears simply gloss her eyes, as she is more upset than anything, but not enough for them to spill over. Victor stands there, waiting for her reaction with a blank expression. There’s no regret, no plead, not even sympathy. Mei Lin brushes this off as Victor knowing what he’s done and he surely knows what he’s done. He knows exactly what he’s done.
Mei Lin walks towards their bedroom, not bothering to take her shoes off, and right past Victor. “You could’ve just told me,” Mei Lin says quietly as she passes by.
By her soft voice, Victor knows that this isn’t enough to make her leave and stay gone. She’s going to forgive him because that’s how she is. “No, I couldn’t have,” Victor says with a bit of venom.
“Duì bù qǐ?” ("Excuse me?") Mei Lin asks, now confused more than upset.
“You wouldn’t have listened to me even if I begged you. Hell, you wouldn’t even listen to your parents, but that’s not saying much now is it? I could’ve been completely honest and told you that I didn’t want you around anymore and you would still stay—”
“Maybe because you’re not the only reason why I’m staying—”
“Right, give me one other reason that you’re staying and passing up what you’ve been working towards since the day your dad mentioned the name of the company and how he wished he had a son that worked there to make him proud.”
Mei Lin is speechless—not because she doesn’t have a response, but because her voice is just as existent as the Victor she thought she knew.
“You say that you’re doing what you want but you never do what you want. Even from the first moment I met you, you were lying and told me straight to my face that your major was only a ‘perk for your parents.’ You don’t even love them and yet you do everything you can to please them—hell, they don’t even love you.”
Victor is crossing the line and he knows it; he’s right and Mei Lin knows it.
“You care way too much about others who don’t—can’t return the favor, and never enough about yourself. That’s just who you are. My mistake for thinking you could change.”
Tears are streaking down Mei Lin’s face now, one for every drop of venom. Victor has a stone expression, chiseled with anger. How long has this been building up? How long has he felt this way? When did he start becoming unfaithful? This makes sense. Why didn’t I just trust myself? I didn’t want to be right.
Mei Lin has been sick before—she’s even burned herself while cooking (and has the scar to prove it) and gotten bitten by a snake—but there’s no comparison or description for the pain she feels at the pit of her sternum right now that makes her want to curl up and cry, and never stop crying. The tears refuse to give him the satisfaction though, staying glossed on her mahogany eyes like dewy contacts.
“My mistake for thinking I could trust you,” Mei Lin finally manages to say. “I’ll be sure to never do that again.”
Mei Lin pivots on the balls of her feet and continues her way to the bedroom, closing the door behind her, but in a quiet manner. She’s even mature enough to not lock the door as she opens the closet and pulls out a suitcase; good thing the bathroom is connected to the master bedroom. There’s not much else from the apartment that she would need.
Victor waits and listens for any sign of sobbing or crying, but even without the confirmation, he knows that he has effectively shattered Mei Lin, pushing all the wrong buttons. He sighs and throws himself face up on the couch, resting his forearm on his forehead, completely exhausted by his performance. He drifts to sleep with the hope that Mei Lin has no doubt that this was what it is: an act.
Mei Lin plops down on the bed when she’s sure she has everything that she could possibly need. It isn’t until after sending a confirmation e-mail and texting a few important numbers did she feel the true weight of it all. The sun’s still up and surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for her heavy eyes to give way to sleep. By five am the next morning, Mei Lin is ready and walking out the door with Victor still asleep on the couch with his arm still on his head. She leaves him one last cooked meal and the apartment spotless.
He was right; I do care too much.
Victor wakes up at the sound of the front door closing and sees the still-steaming breakfast. There’s a card next to the plate for him, much like the ones she would leave him the night before for him to find in the morning, or the ones she would leave behind should she be going somewhere. But unlike those notes, which were filled with sweet greetings or considerate reminders (“Good morning” or “your dry cleaning”) with cartoon emoticons, this one simply had two characters followed by a definite period in ballpoint black ink, 再見. (Goodbye.)
Rather than pain and guilt, like that which riddled his nightmares last night, relief washes over Victor as he lets out a much-held breath. It’s not until he eats his breakfast did it begin to taste saltier with tears. They glide slowly down the sides of his nose, and after a minute, he reaches for a napkin, not because he’s done eating, but to dry his eyes.
It isn’t until Mei Lin is on the plane with her head against the wall, looking out the window, did the waterworks decide to let her have closure. Mei Lin wraps the complementary blanket around herself more tightly as she readjusts the pillow that’s soaking up all the tears. Sleep comes easy when nothing but antagonizing discomfort filled the night before.
A representative is waiting for Mei Lin at Guangzhou Baiyun International Airport with the company logo and a poster with her name (陳美琳) in very sloppy characters. Mei Lin is relieved when he escorts her to the black car with tinted windows and takes her suitcase and bags to place in the trunk because a well-kempt young lady is in the back seat. Mei Lin suddenly feels very underdressed in her jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, hoodie and lack of make up. But as intimidating as she seems, the crow’s feet that she skillfully hides with make up and thick glasses frame are in vain when her speech gives away the amount of experience and level of professionalism.
“This is your room keycard—have you found a place to stay?” she asks in precise Mandarin.
Mei Lin receives the hotel plastic and simply shakes her head, too jet-lagged and exhausted by various means to even respond verbally.
The woman swipes her tablet (from the looks of it, an iPad) and types something in with her free hand. After another swipe, she turns the tablet over to Mei Lin who sees a listing of apartments, condos and even houses, all within a ten-kilometer radius of GIBI Headquarters.
Mei Lin doesn’t exactly have a car. Even back in the States she relied on the public bus system available free to college students; there had never been a need for a vehicle. And seeing how owning a car in China is more trouble than it’s worth, Mei Lin looks for something within walking distance or that is close to a subway station.
“Do you have a vehicle?” she asks as if on cue and reading Mei Lin’s mind as she scrolls.
“Why do you ask?” Mei Lin asks in English. Having caught herself, she asks again in Mandarin, though the lady understood her the first time.
“I need to know if I need to reserve a parking space for you in the garage,” she replies in English with a persistent accent she so desperately tries to mask. “I’ll do so anyway in case you do indeed have one or will get one. I recommend it.”
Mei Lin thinks of her student loans and the prices of cars here in China and keeps scrolling.
She continues in Mandarin, not liking how her accent is slipping in. “I also recommend that you get something close enough to the office in case of emergencies; no more than fifteen minutes, but far enough so that your office doesn’t become your home; at least ten minutes.”
Well, that narrows her choices down.
After a few more minutes in the car, the woman takes her tablet back and closes the window even though Mei Lin has yet to make a choice. But something tells her that it’s already been chosen for her.
“May I ask who you are?” Mei Lin asks in Mandarin.
“Wu Lǎo Bǎn’s secretary,” ("Boss/Mr. Wu's secretary,") she says with her nose held high.
Mei Lin’s eyes only widen at the fact that the chairman of the company would send his own personal secretary to pick up a transfer employee. Confusion quickly replaces the shock. No amount of foundation will cover the not-so-fine lines, and the tailored suit and manicure say a lot more than the tone of her voice. There is a lack of a ring on left ring finger, but seeing how most Chinese couples don’t use such a Western tradition, it’s hard to say why an older woman has any place in the chairman’s inner circle of employees other than the board of division leaders.
They arrive at the hotel ten minutes after their last exchange and Mei Lin can’t help but marvel at the grandeur of something she knows she can’t afford. “Um—”
“You will be staying here until your new residence and employment are all worked out,” she explains. “Until then, get some rest and be sure you’re presentable when the time comes.”
She’s harsh but honest, something one can’t help but value given the circumstance. “Alright,” Mei Lin says, unsure of what else to say.
The driver takes her bags out of the trunk and gives it to the bellhop. The secretary can’t help but eye what little Mei Lin has brought with her from overseas. Nonetheless, she shakes her head of the thoughts that want to judge what’s before her and instead hands Mei Lin a phone, which she slips into her pocket. “Discard whatever it is you have now, it won’t work here unless you have a very good international plan. Read over all of this when you have the chance,” she says, handing her a thick file. “Most of it was in the e-mails. You’ll be hearing from us very soon.” She gets back in the car and they drive off.
With a small bag hanging from her shoulder and the file in hand and the hotel keycard in the other, Mei Lin is still exhausted enough to feel as if the last hour had been a dream. Flipping the card over to the magnetic strip in hopes of figuring out which room she’s to stay in, Mei Lin ends up having to ask the front desk which room her key belongs to.
“Twenty-second floor, your bags should be waiting,” he replies with a smile. “Enjoy your stay.”
“Xiè xiè.” ("Thank you.") First thing’s first: shower.
Forget the luxurious suite before her; the hot water is all that she’s interested in right now. You would be like that way too if you’d just been in two planes for over a total of twenty hours with a two hour layover and another one in the car with a very hard-working woman. She sets a timer on her old phone after checking the local time so she doesn’t end up oversleeping (just because there’s no service doesn’t mean it still doesn’t have other uses for it). It isn’t until she wakes up does she notice that the suite is as big as her former apartment but more expensively furnished.
As she’s folding her dirty clothes, her new phone falls out. An iPhone? Mei Lin wonders if there’s an Apple trend in the company or if it's just the secretary. After setting up a passcode, her preferences, and the language, she finds that there are already important numbers in the contact list. Even though she set the phone to English, the contacts are still in Chinese with some listed as “My Office” or “My Lab” or “My Assisstant.” I wonder if they have the software on here, Mei Lin wonders, referring to the texting system that are on all Chinese phones that allows them to text characters. Of course it’s on here. I wouldn’t need this phone if that wasn’t the case.
Mei Lin orders roomservice and tips the young man who brought it in. Food always tastes better when the last thing you had was some sort of dry grilled chicken on rice and pretzels from the plane more than eighteen hours ago. Green tea, fresh fruit, noodles; it all tastes better.
After setting the tray in the hallway, Mei Lin reviews the inch-thick file which contains all that she could ever need. A copy of her contract, paperwork regarding her visa, lists of what she’ll need, what’s expected of her, business resources, complete with phone numbers, extensions, names, positions and even e-mails. Some even have fax numbers—who uses fax anymore?
A familiar buzzing and five-tone melody alerts Mei Lin to a phone call with the caller ID being simply: “Boss’s Secretary” in Chinese.
“Wèi?” ("Hello?") Mei Lin answers.
“I trust you are well rested? Good,” she says, not waiting for a response. “You have thirty minutes before we come and retrieve you for a tour. Dress accordingly.” The lack of sound coming from the other end tells Mei Lin that she hung up.
Dress accordingly? How? Mei Lin grabs a blouse and some dress pants before hopping into the shower. She’s in the lobby just in time to be “retrieved.”
The tour is very quick, never staying in one room or one floor for too long. Mei Lin is not introduced to anyone other than the people she will be working with. Three techies in labcoats shake Mei Lin’s hand. One young man who much younger than she is, likely to be the son of someone who works here and still in college; another young lady who is on her way to be thirty, but like Mei Lin, is an international transfer with pale skin, red hair, and eyes that scream European; and finally, someone who proves that this is a small world: Gale. Gale is a young woman about the same age as Mei Lin with rich dark hair and even richer skin and eyes like black pearls. They know each other from high school and went to different universities to study the same thing. All three are only temps; Mei Lin’s assistants’ list is always in constant shift.
When they spend a little more time on this than the secretary would’ve liked, they move on, and soon, Mei Lin is taken away to her new apartment which is half the size of her suite, but more than enough for one person; exactly twelve minutes from the office by taxi, subway or car.
With Gale working here for now, Mei Lin’s transition back in this country is much easier. Within the week, Mei Lin is working in a glass-walled lab that is connected to an equally transparent office, tinkering with lazers and wiring.
They take the new precision lazer to the testing area when the the double doors slide open suddenly. The whole team along with Mei Lin stop the test and turn to see what the commotion is. A young brunette is storming through the testing area and walks out through the set of doors on the other end of the room, muttering that she “quits.”
Not many people walk through the Developmental Department when quitting, Gale thinks, even though she’s only been here for a month or so. No one really quits in this economy, unless—
Just then, the first set of doors slide open again, “Bai Fu! Wait, come back!” a man says. Average in stature, gelled and parted hair, thick frames. “Now you’ve done it; she’s not coming back.”
“She was lousy anyways,” the young man behind him says, hands firmly in his pant pockets.
With this, Mei Lin has to stop the test again. “I need to recalibrate this. Starting and stopping it so suddenly just fried—”
“Can’t you tell we’re talking?” the young man interrupts.
Mei Lin looks up momentarily at the blond standing less than five meters from herself in a tailored suit that costs more than her first paycheck. His sandy blond hair, tall one-hundred and eighty-eight centimeter stature, coupled with his Chinese features tells Mei Lin that he’s rebellious and a brat, and given how he just spoke to someone who is clearly his elder, he is definetly that man’s superior, and perhaps even Mei Lin’s superior. A moment is all that she’s willing to spare him before she instructs her team to readjust the laser so she can run the test.
“You need a secretary because heaven knows you’re not going to do everything yourself, if anything at all,” the man pleas.
The chairman of this company has more than one secretary, and this is the other one he has in addition to the one who wears too much make-up and tries too hard. The one that looks over the one thing he can honestly say he’s not too proud of.
“Then hire someone who can do it right,” the blond demands.
“You need to stop firing them,” the man insists.
“I didn’t fire her; she quit,” the young blond says.
“That’s what they all do! You either fire them because you’re fed up or they quit because they’re fed up!” The man is at his wit’s end but Gale finds this to be quite amusing, seeing how the rumors are now confirmed.
Meanwhile, Mei Lin is still istructing her team as if the men are not in the lab at all, multitasking between the readings on her tablet and the response she’s getting from her assistants. Clearly their positions are above her paygrade, and if she’s not to interfere, then that’s no reason to stop her from doing her job.
“I need someone who can handle the pressure... someone like her.” The room stops, but Mei Lin’s mind is still scanning the tablet screen. It takes a moment before she realizes that the young man is pointing at her.
“Duì bù qǐ?” Mei Lin asks. ("Excuse me?/Pardon me?")
An even older man walks in through the first set of doors and the whole team along with the secretary bows. Mei Lin’s is a bit delayed, as she is still confused. The chairman demands to know what’s going on and his secretary explains how the blond, Yi Fan, has gone through yet another secretary, the fourth one this month.
“I need someone like that,” Yi Fan says, pointing to Mei Lin again. “You,” he says, pointing once more. “You’re going to be my new secretary. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. Someone get her the paperwork.” Yi Fan turns around and heads for the first set of doors.
“Aish,” the secretary sighs, going after the young man.
There’s all but the hum of the computers in the lab now until Gale speaks up. “Can he do that?”
The chairman smirks and leaves with, “Of course he can.”
Translations/Author's Notes:
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For all names, words, phrases and sentences that are romantized from Chinese: they will be spaced by chracter, rather than by words. This is NOT correct pinyin. Some words and phrases require more than one character and when those are romanized, there are no spaces. For example: Duì bù qǐ? would actually be Duìbùqǐ? This also applies to names. Chén Měi Lín is actually Chén Měilín because one's given names are considered one name while your surname can stand alone. I personally find it easier to read pinyin when it's spaced out by character which is the only reason why it's done this way.
- Duì bù qǐ? (對不起?) = Excuse me? It can also mean I'm sorry or sorry but the question mark implies a request for pardon or clarification.
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再見 (zài jiàn) = goodbye (lit. see [you] again)
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陳美琳 (Chén Měi Lín) = Mei Lin's name in traditional Chinese (all the Chinese characters that I use will be in traditional). Mei meaning beautiful and Lin meaning either fine jade or gem. Chen is common surname in China but is romanized as Chan in certain parts of China, like Hong Kong. Chen is the proper romanization for Mandarin but for the sake of this story, it will be Chan (keep reading). And for the sake of my typing ability, I will keep her name and that of any other main characters' without any vowel stresses.
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Lǎo Bǎn (老板) = boss I use the term "chairman of the company" but just to clarify, the Chinese word for chairman is Zhǔ xí, which has a completely different implication. I use the English term simply as a synonym for the translation, not the other way around.
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Xiè xiè (謝謝) = Thank you or Thanks
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Wèi? (喂?) = Hello? This is a common greeting that is often used by Chinese people when answering the phone. It can also be used to get someone's attention if exclamatory. The equivalent of "moshi moshi" in Japan.
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editor's notes
hello friends!
Kim here
Li was born and partially raised in China, so you all get the pleasure of actual Chinese
{tho she's better at Cantonese than she is at Mandarin hehe} [this is slowly changing, just saying]
super authentic; how great is that
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