"I do not understand you, Zanjin," Zhan said to his manager. "Why do we have to rent a condominium unit? Where are we going to get the money for the monthly fee?" He looked at the large condominium Zanjin had taken for them.
"And where do you want me to live? In Zhuocheng 's house?" Zanjin said back. "I don't have any money, Zhan. My pocket is empty. And I am trying to find a job here to support myself until the time you come to your senses, and we go back to New York."
"Why don't you have any money? You've been getting a salary from me for years. I can't believe you're broke..." Zhan asked.
"I don't care what you believe but it is the truth! I'm penniless! And unless we went back to New York, I'll starve here. And I don't want us to stay here in China any longer!" answered Zanjin.
"You've been gambling, Zanjin!" Zhan said in disbelief. Zanjin didn't smoke and rarely went out with men. But he was a chronic gambler.
That's the reason why when Ziyuan got sick he saw the worry on Zanjin face. Zanjin didn't think Zhan would make it without his mother. Zanjin thinks the only reason Zhan is getting a contract is because of Ziyuan.
And Zanjin suspects that Ziyuan is using her own body to get a contract for Zhan. One time, Zhan even heard Zanjin accuse his mother about it. Ziyuan just laughed at that.
"I just picked you up from the gutter, Zanjin," said Ziyuan, "you're nothing without me. So I'll forgive you the insult. You have no eyes for real beauty and talent that's why you say that. What I do with the men in my life is my business and for my own satisfaction and they have nothing to do with Zhan."
His mother was no saint. Ziyuan had been undeniably beautiful as well as brilliant. Zhan knew she had some secret affairs with some of the men she had been dealing with. But that was his mother's business. Zhan himself was sure that those men had no influence on his work.
"I talked to Prada's representative yesterday over the phone," Zanjin continued. "They need you back there, Zhan. Your contract's waiting, for pete's sake! And I know you didn't save that much not to work. All your money was spent at Ziyuan's hospital bill."
Zhan didn't answer. Zanjin is right. But maybe he could build a small business without having to go back to New York. A boutique for one. He studied fashion designing anyway in one of the best schools in New York where only the rich could afford. Not because Ziyuan thinks it will benefit him but because it will add to his credentials that the media will write about.
And if his business becomes established, he would enroll in fine arts. He really likes to draw. He may not be a great painter, but he can finally do what he wants. And who knows if from there he can build a gallery.
"I haven't decided if I'm going back to New York, Zanjin," Zhan said after a moment of thought. "And if you don't have money, you don't need to rent a condo unit. Try to live within your means. Above all, stop gambling."
For a moment, Zhan saw anger pass over Zanjin face. But that disappeared in an instant and what took placed what seemed to be depression and he let out a long sigh.
"I really hope you'd come to your senses, Zhan," Zanjin said softly. "Our life's is in New York." Zanjin turned around to head for the door out of the condo. He was already holding the doorknob when he remembered something and turned to him. "Oh, by the way. State Councilor Henry Zhao is inviting us to a private party. He mentioned to me the night of Chengpeng Fu's party. You've already left that time. But he will call for confirmation."
And Zhan would say no to another party! Zhan thought with determination.
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