The waitress replied that they didn't have any tap water, only bottled mineral water. Wandering Zhou shook his head and repeated, "I don't drink mineral water. Mineral water is a swindle, since it doesn't actually contain any minerals. It is actually tap water which has the highest mineral content."
After saying this, Wandering Zhou continued admiring Missy Su, making her pulse race with excitement. He knew that she would surely bring him a glass of water. He then reached his hand into his pocket, and instantly his toy cell phone rang, whereupon he pulled it out and pretended to take a call. From his side of the conversation it appeared as if he was talking to his secretary. He complained that she had not reserved a room for him and now there were no rooms to be found. Unlike earlier with those pedicab drivers, this time in front of Missy Su he didn't make a show of losing his temper but, rather, complained very politely and concluded his call by uttering a few words of reassurance to the person on the other end of the line. When he finished and put his cell phone away, he turned back around and found Missy Su standing there with a glass of water. He knew that this was mineral water. By then he was as thirsty as if he had just come in from the desert, but he politely stood up to accept the water and politely thanked her for it. Then he sat back down and sipped it while nibbling on his steamed buns and began chatting with her.
He started talking about the buns, remarking how tasty they were, and then complimented Missy Su on how neat and clean her shop was. Missy Su, who had turned away, suddenly paused. Sensing an opening, Zhou then suggested that she should introduce the latest new thing in buns, whereupon she sat down across from him. Zhou continued, suggesting that she should introduce a kind of steamed meat bun that came with its own little straw. He described how in the top snack shops of Shanghai and Beijing all the mini-buns were served with tiny straws sticking out. Those buns had much lighter, thinner skins than regular mini-buns and therefore contained that much more meat juice. Customers first delicately sipped the flavorful juices through the straw, and only then did they eat the bun itself. Zhou said that these were currently considered the best buns; and moreover, they had become veritable symbols of our countrymen's new sophisticated lifestyles. Eating buns was no longer merely about eating meat filling wrapped in dough; rather, it was about savoring the juice. He said, "In fact, there are some customers who just sip the juice and don't even bother with the rest."
Missy Sus eyes started to gleam as she listened to Wandering Zhou's descriptions, and she promised she would immediately start developing this new kind of bun the very next day. Wandering Zhou took this opportunity to suggest that perhaps he could come by to assess her work. He said that he would gladly share his valuable experiences of sipping mini-bun juice if it could be of any help to her. He promised to help her make these straw-embedded mini-buns a runaway hit, one that would not only attract customers from one hundred li around but people from as far away as Beijing would fly down just to enjoy her specialty buns. Missy Su laughed delightedly at this and asked shyly, "Are you really willing to help me?"
"Of course," replied Wandering Zhou with a gracious wave.
Now that this charlatan had spent his final five yuan, his offer to be the official sampler of the straw-embedded buns turned out to be the perfect way to nab himself several days’ worth of food. After he left the snack shop with his two cardboard boxes, his gait was much livelier than it had been when he had been so famished. Now he just needed to find a free place to sleep. He again walked up to Poet Zhao and came up with a plan to claim Zhao's straw mat.
Poet Zhao would have already been asleep by that point if it hadn't been for the mosquitoes. They had bitten him all over his body, driving him to distraction. When Wandering Zhou walked by, Zhao was slapping madly at the buzzing mosquitoes, his hands dotted with blood. As Wandering Zhou set down his piled-up boxes next to Poet Zhao's mat, Zhao peered down at his mosquito-blood dotted palms under the light of the streetlamps and showed Wandering Zhou, saying, "This is all my blood."
Wandering Zhou nodded politely, and then his toy cell phone rang. He took out his phone and said, Hello, followed by a string of foreign words Poet Zhao couldn't understand. Zhao looked at him curiously, waiting for him to finish, then asked cautiously, "Were you speaking American just now?"
"Yes." Wandering Zhou nodded. "I was discussing business with the manager of my American subsidiary."
Having guessed correctly that Wandering Zhou was speaking American, Poet Zhao said proudly, "I can also understand a little American."
Wandering Zhou looked at Poet Zhao, who was standing there impressed by his own brilliance, and realized that the telephone call had not sufficiently cowed him. Therefore, his toy cell naturally rang again, and he said, "Buon giorno," followed by a string of foreign words that Poet Zhao couldn't understand. Zhao waited until Wandering Zhou was finished and had put his cell phone back in his pocket, then again cautiously asked, "This time you weren't speaking American, were you?"
"It was Italian," Zhou replied. "I was discussing business with the manager of my Italian subsidiary."
Poet Zhao said proudly, "I knew it couldn't be American."
Since neither of these calls had been able to conquer this self-satisfied country bumpkin, Zhou's cell phone promptly rang a third time. He answered, "Yeobo-seyo."
This time Wandering Zhou finally succeeded in conquering Poet Zhao. Zhao didn't dare continue showing off but, rather, asked humbly, "What language were you speaking this time?"
Wandering Zhou smiled and said, "Korean. I was discussing business with the manager of my Korean subsidiary."
A look of respectful awe came over Poet Zhao's face, and he asked Wandering Zhou, "How many countries’ languages do you know?"
Wandering Zhou held up three fingers and said, "Thirty."
Poet Zhao exclaimed in surprise, "That many!"
Wandering Zhou laughed modestly and said, "That includes Chinese, of course."
Poet Zhao was awestruck and said, "But that still leaves twenty-nine."
"Your math is very good," replied Wandering Zhou, then shook his head. "My businesses stretch worldwide, from the North to the South Pole, from Africa to Latin America, leaving me with no choice but to learn so many foreign languages."
Poet Zhao was completely taken in. He gazed at Zhou reverently and in a far more respectful tone of voice, asked, "May I inquire as to what line of business you might be in?"
Wandering Zhou replied, "Health products."
Wandering Zhou took off his jacket and set it down on the cardboard box. He then removed his tie and stuffed it into the jacket pocket. While he was undoing his shirt button, Poet Zhao asked cautiously, "What do you have in your boxes?"
Wandering Zhou answered, "Hymens."
With a look of astonishment, Poet Zhao watched as Wandering Zhou took off his shirt and placed it on top of the box, leaving him bare-chested like Poet Zhao. Seeing Zhao's astonished expression, Zhou said, "Haven't you ever heard of hymens?"