Her furrowed brow showed not thought, but concern. “You mean we’d be takin’ other peoples homes?” she asked.
Han looked up — over his shoulder — at the news program’s director. She shook her head and frowned. Even if the meaning conveyed by the American woman’s tone was lost in translation, the expression on her face had been too obvious. Taking someone else’s home was clearly the most disgusting thing Han could have proposed.
Han rose with a slight groan, straightened his jacket, and thanked the family. The entourage moved on in search of another typical American family to try the script one more time. Han would try coming at the proposal from a different angle. Maybe ensure the next family that the solution was temporary, and that prewar property rights would be honored after Chinese victory. He winced at the thought of how that would be received, and rethought the approach he would take.
One of Han’s advance men intercepted Han before he began the next interview. “It’s the prime minister,” he said breathlessly, handing Han a tiny cellular phone.
“It’s late!” an exuberant Han remarked in Chinese.
“I want you to go to the Orlando, Florida, airport,” the prime minister said without greeting his nephew. “There’s someone there that I would like you to meet. Her plane arrives in two hours. I’d like you to treat her very, very well.”
Han Zhemin and General Sheng waited at the bottom of a carpeted staircase on the breezy airport tarmac. A slender Chinese woman of twenty descended the stairs of a sleek, supersonic long-haul jet. She was fashionably dressed and wore movie-star sunglasses. She didn’t bother holding her skirt, which revealed shapely legs with each gust, but she did make certain she didn’t tumble off high heels to the concrete by taking her time with each carefully placed step.
Liu Yi presented Han her smooth cheeks for a kiss. Her skin was powdered white, and her lips were red, not blackened by the glittering lipstick that was the choice of her generation. Han kissed both cheeks and said in Chinese, “The last time I saw you, you were crawling on the floor of your grandfather’s foyer.”
“That must’ve been a long time ago,” Liu Yi replied in perfect English. A bright smile lit a beautiful face. “I haven’t crawled on the floor in a long time.”
General Sheng stiffly shook the girl’s hand.
She promptly took Han’s proffered arm and headed for the limousine with General Sheng three steps behind. Liu Yi’s hair shone brilliantly in the sun of a crystal clear morning. As they walked, her hip swayed against Han’s. “Where have you been these last few years?” Han asked. Their conversation had switched to English. With the change of language, their culture changed. English allowed for less time-consuming rituals of behavior and was, therefore, for most of the educated young, the more comfortable language of greeting.
“Studying,” she answered, cheerily affecting a coquettish display. But who is she really? Han wondered. Was Liu Yi — at age twenty — a sophisticated citizen of the world, or was she playing the role of her life? “I graduate from Beijing University next spring,” she informed Han.
Han laughed. He had thought she was at least out of university. Yi checked his face uncertainly. Her smile had given way to concern. “And what,” Han continued airily, “Ms. University Co-ed, are you studying at Beijing University?”
“English literature,” she tentatively replied.
Han laughed, stopped, and turned to her at the car door. He took both of her hands in his and beamed. Yi’s smile again lit her face, although she was clearly uncertain why they were smiling. Han slowly reached up and removed her sunglasses. Her eyes didn’t sink in feigned modesty. They bravely burned back at Han.
“Have you ever been to America?” Han asked. She shook her head. Of course not, Han thought. The wars began when she was ten. “Then where would you like to go today, university student Liu Yi?”
“Disney World,” she replied confidently and without hesitation.
Han laughed again and so did Yi. She had perfectly straight, white teeth. Han turned to the commander of Eleventh Army Group (North) and said, “We’re going to Disney World, General Sheng!”
Han was absolutely ebullient for one simple reason. Yi’s visit augured Han’s ascent into the top tier of Chinese power. Han had been chosen, he now realized, and he felt buoyant and full of energy. All of which infected and clearly elated Liu Yi. No telling how long the poor girl had worried that she would embarrass herself and her family. That she would botch her enormously important first adult undertaking. But she was gracious, proper, and strikingly good-looking.
Han and Yi got into the lead limousine. Sheng boarded the trailing one. The morose old general obviously understood that the point of the visit was for Han to get to know the defense minister’s favorite granddaughter.
One of the few things that the Americans hadn’t destroyed in their retreat was Disney World. But only a few local residents had been trapped by the Chinese army and forced by census takers to return to their jobs at the amusement park. In fact, the huge place seemed eerily quiet. If it hadn’t been for the Chinese troops — who boisterously laughed as they lay on the grass — there would have been no life in the park at all. Yi and Han strolled side by side, her arm in his.
Yi said in English over her shoulder, “I see, General Sheng, that you allow our troops a trip to Disney World for relaxation.” Colonel Li whispered the Chinese translation into the old general’s ear. “I think that’s admirable. They deserve it!”
A group of soldiers that they were approaching were quickly gathering their combat gear and walking or running across the grass in the opposite direction. A now fetid artificial lake separated the entourage of VIPs from the rapidly retreating gaggle of men.
As they neared the artificial hillock, it became apparent why the troops had taken flight. On the wind wafted the pungent smell of marijuana smoke. Yi giggled and glanced at Han, sharing their secret discovery of the deserving troops’ harmless lawbreaking.
But Sheng had smelled it too. “Seize those men,” he ordered Colonel Li in Chinese. He used the word “seize,” not “arrest,” and there was a difference. The former didn’t con-note much in the way of due process before punishment.
Yi spun with surprising energy to face Sheng. “No, you won’t!” she shouted. It sounded terribly rude when delivered in Chinese. Orders could be given to an elder, but not in that way. Yi had made the mistake of switching languages but not switching cultures, which was a problem increasingly common among the young. And she appeared not to care in the least.So that’s who she really is, Han thought in amusement. At least she won’t be dull. “Those poor boys risk their lives for our country!” she chastised. “What’s wrong with a little infraction of the rules if it takes their minds off the war for a day?”
“Drug abuse is not a ‘little infraction,’ “Sheng replied, steadily but not forcefully.
Colonel Li hesitated, not relaying Sheng’s orders in the face of Liu Yi’s adamant tone. She commands well, Han noted with satisfaction. She had probably led the life of Defense Minister Liu Changxing’s little princess.
“I heard my grandfather,” Yi said icily, “discussing your casualty figures over dinner.” General Sheng’s face grew even stonier. “Perhaps your worrying about how your troops spend their leisure time isn’t the best use of your time.”