The neighborhood committee had recommended several people, but only Fang Muyang was selected.

On his way home from the hotel, Fang Muyang bought two liangs of brown sugar and a small package of red dates for Fei Ni, then made red date porridge at home using the small charcoal stove. The electric stove consumed too much power; he hadn’t used it since returning home and had sold it, replacing it with a charcoal stove. The charcoal stove was better suited for cooking porridge than the household alcohol stove.

Fei Ni held the bowl with both hands, drinking the red date porridge Fang Muyang had made while listening to him talk about how the neighborhood committee had recommended him to be a waiter at the Foreign Affairs Hotel.

Fei Ni didn’t know what to say about the neighborhood committee recommending such a job.

She teased, “You know what, you are suited for this work.”

“We’re truly of one mind, I think so too.”

Fei Ni thought Fang Muyang was joking, given how often he teased her.

To her surprise, Fang Muyang intended to become a waiter at the Foreign Affairs Hotel, with training starting tomorrow.

Fei Ni had to get serious now. “We still have money, and you have income from your artwork. There’s no need to rush into work. Wait a bit longer, there might be better opportunities waiting.”

“If a better job comes along, I can always transfer. For now, I’ll take what’s available. Besides, I think this hotel job is quite good.”

“How will you have time to draw if you’re working as a waiter?”

Fang Muyang smiled: “You sleep separately from me now, so I have plenty of time at night. Since you don’t want my passionate attention, I can only direct it toward my drawing paper. Otherwise, these days would be unbearable.”

“How do you always turn things to that topic?” Fei Ni stirred her porridge with her spoon, her voice dropping, “You know I’m not feeling well right now.”

“I know.” But even when she was well, she had avoided him. Fang Muyang didn’t mention this though, only saying, “I’ll wait until you’re feeling better.”

Fei Ni casually brushed her hair from behind her ear to the front, hiding her reddening earlobes. She didn’t respond to his comment but asked instead, “Have you thought it through about becoming a waiter?”

“I have. I’ll try it for a couple of days, and if it doesn’t work out, I can always quit.”

“It’s not as simple as you make it sound. You can decline now, but if you start and then quit, the neighborhood committee definitely won’t recommend you for any more jobs.”

“I don’t think any future jobs they recommend will be better than this one. If I really can’t find work, I’ll just stay home and earn money from comic books.” He didn’t mention his plan to earn extra money making furniture, knowing Fei Ni might not approve.

Fei Ni knew there was no point trying to dissuade Fang Muyang once he’d made up his mind. Better to let him try – the worst outcome would be the neighborhood committee washing their hands of this unemployed youth. Fang Muyang was right about one thing: this was probably the best job they could arrange for him.

The loft bed with its built-in cabinet and desk below was finished, coated with clear varnish, and airing downstairs. Now that the unemployed youth Fang Muyang was no longer making furniture downstairs, people in the building learned he had found work, and upon inquiry, discovered he had become a waiter at the Foreign Affairs Hotel.

This news reached Sister Liu’s ears. Fang Muyang had turned down the meat factory job, not to stay home drawing, but to serve foreigners.

When Sister Liu first heard this news, her initial thought was that Little Fang had lost his mind – how could being a hotel waiter compare to being a meat factory worker?

Although waiters were technically part of the working class, Sister Liu, as a proper factory worker, didn’t consider service industry workers to be of the same category, reasoning that they didn’t create tangible value. Foreign Affairs Hotel waiters were even lower in her estimation, not even comparable to servers who served the Chinese people.

Sister Liu was straightforward, speaking whatever came to mind.

“What was Little Fang thinking, turning down the excellent slaughterhouse position to be a hotel waiter? And at the Foreign Affairs Hotel no less. What’s most important for young people? Learning a skill is most important. What skill is there in being a waiter? When Little Fang refused last time, the position was immediately given to someone else. Now there are no openings at the meat factory, but let me have my husband keep an eye out for opportunities again.”

“Thank you, but please don’t worry about this anymore.” Unable to refuse Sister Liu’s kindness directly, Fei Ni had to lie again: “I’ve been too embarrassed to tell you, but our Fang gets faint at the sight of blood, so he can’t work in the slaughterhouse.”

Sister Liu sighed, “Oh, so that’s it. Such a tall, strong-looking man, how can he be squeamish about blood?”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Don’t worry.” Sister Liu consoled Fei Ni, “Being squeamish about blood isn’t a big deal, don’t be too upset about it.”

Fei Ni hadn’t expected the hotel training to spark such enthusiasm for learning in Fang Muyang. He borrowed her English dictionary and spent his evenings either drawing or looking up words, writing them down as he went.

During dinner, as Fei Ni ate stir-fried cabbage with steamed buns, Fang Muyang used his newly learned English to introduce her to silk-thread shark fin, butterfly sea cucumber, pigeon egg boat platter, crab roe tofu…

Fei Ni picked out a strip of meat from her cabbage and put it in Fang Muyang’s bowl: “Stop building castles in the air, eat up.”

“This isn’t wishful thinking, I’m reading you the menu. Which would you like to try?”

Fei Ni laughed: “Stop joking, the food’s getting cold.” Even stir-fried meat strips were considered good dishes in ordinary restaurants; these fancy dishes were beyond their reach. Even though Fang Muyang would be working in the hotel’s housekeeping department, the restaurant’s dishes had nothing to do with him.

To prevent female staff from being harassed by certain ill-intentioned individuals, the hotel’s housekeeping department employed only male attendants. Female staff generally worked in the restaurant. Fang Muyang’s name had already been assigned to the regular guest room department.

Fang Muyang showed strong learning ability during training, not only memorizing the rules after just a few readings but also becoming proficient in daily English conversations within days. The hotel leader in charge of training recognized his potential, noted his good appearance, and after carefully reviewing his file – finding his clean history, strong ideological standing, and parents who, though previously problematic, were now cleared – felt it would be a waste to assign him to regular housekeeping. Such talent should serve important foreign guests in the VIP rooms, showing these foreigners the caliber of Chinese service staff.

VIP room guests sometimes appeared in newspapers and television news.

Fang Muyang’s home had no television, and he lacked interest in these potentially newsworthy figures. He didn’t want to serve important foreign guests; he only wanted to work in the hotel’s restaurant department.

To prove his suitability for restaurant work, Fang Muyang closed the menu and described several dishes to the leader in English, simply and accurately.

Forced melons aren’t sweet – seeing Fang Muyang’s enthusiasm for restaurant work and his demonstrated ability, the leader had to agree to his request.

On the last day of training, Fang Muyang returned home with tomatoes and canned beef he’d bought from the hotel store.

As soon as Fei Ni opened the door slightly, she smelled the mixture of tomato and beef, and upon opening it fully, she saw steam rising from the small pot on the alcohol stove. The aroma was coming from that pot.

“Where did you get tomatoes?” It was winter, and the food stores had no fresh tomatoes. The only tomato smell in the building corridors came from tomato sauce made in summer. But tomato sauce was very mild, nowhere near as rich as the smell from the pot.

“The restaurant has a rule that if the kitchen has unused vegetables, employees can buy them to take home. I bought the tomatoes from the back kitchen. Don’t worry, I followed all the rules.”

“Weren’t you working in housekeeping?”

“The leaders thought I was better suited for restaurant work.”

Fei Ni noticed the upper bunk looked different from before – the neatly folded bedding had been spread out with one corner turned down, and a flower placed on top. A real flower.

The newly made bed was still outside; they planned to sell it on Sunday and bring in the new one.

Fei Ni pointed at the bed and asked Fang Muyang: “What’s this about?” It looked strange, putting a flower on the bed – the cut flower probably came from the hotel too.

Fang Muyang explained: “If I were working in housekeeping, I’d be required to turn down beds for guests every day. But now that I’ve been transferred to the restaurant, my housekeeping training has no use. I didn’t want to waste it, and fortunately, I have you – I can serve you every day. Please give me a chance to demonstrate what I’ve learned.”

Besides Fei Ni, Fang Muyang had no interest in turning down beds for anyone. But the way he spoke now made it sound as if he would have been happy to do it for guests, only unfortunately being forced to give up the opportunity.