the Shanghai Vegetarian Café Society.
Linyao and Flip were working at a table, chopping vegetables.
‘He scares me,’ she was telling him.
‘I too, now you tole me dat,’ the young man replied.
Joyce had intended to go straight to the wall and start the stain removal process, but decided instead to join the others. This conversation sounded too good to miss. She guessed they were talking about the mysterious visiting god of animal-lovers. ‘Vega?’
Linyao nodded. She was tense: her right leg was vibrating on its heel.
‘Relax. He’s on our side,’ Joyce said. ‘It’ll be fine.’
The older woman nodded again. ‘True enough. Or so it seems. But he’s extreme. You know how this sort of movement attracts extremists sometimes.’
‘You mean he goes around rescuing animals from labs and all that?’
‘That’s just for starters. Let me tell you what I’ve heard about Vega.’
Her conspiratorial tone inspired Joyce to pull her chair in more tightly. Clearly, there was some good goss about to emerge, and good goss about a celebrity they were about to meet was irresistible. Was he young and good-looking? She was tempted to ask Linyao whether she had a picture of him, but was worried she might appear crass.
Linyao leaned forward into the conversation. ‘There used to be two main animal rights groups in Shanghai. There was one north of Suzhou Creek called All Living Things—it was a very Buddhist group—and there was one that came out of Hongqiao called Friends of Creation, which was more a humanist sort of thing, a mixture of Chinese and Westerners. The Friends put out a lot of leaflets and stuff, and occasionally picketed the wet markets and things, but nothing too controversial.
‘All Living Things was a bit more lively. It was run by this young woman called Zhong Xue Qin. She was brilliant at press and publicity. She was always on TV, campaigning outside restaurants, harassing the stallholders at the wet markets and writing articles in the newspapers about animal welfare. She was also incredibly tall and thin and beautiful, which helped—classic Shanghainese blood, you know. But one time her group actually got into a fight at a restaurant serving southern Chinese food—you know how in the south they like rare animals freshly cooked. The cooks had got some endangered stuff—flying squirrels and the like. But the restaurant was owned by someone high up in the Party. Zhong and two of the group went to jail for a week. After that, we thought she would quieten down. But she became even more extreme.’
‘What sorta ting dey do?’
‘They found labs where animals were being experimented on, and stopped people going in. They got students at the universities to stop going to vivisection classes. And then she started campaigning against this supermarket chain, owned by a powerful family.’
‘Which one?’ Joyce asked.
‘Mee Fan Trading in Chinese,’ Linyao said. ‘It’s owned by a family named Mee. Actually, the real name is Memet, or something like that—they are from the far west, Urumqi—but the Guoyu version is Mee. The far west of China has lots of problems, and several members of the family moved to Canada, and some moved to London. Anyway, there were various meetings and eventually the second son of the Mee family, a UK-based guy, flew into China to join the family firm and was giving the task of sorting out the problem with Zhong Xue Qin. They met. And the predictable thing happened.’
‘What?’ Flip asked.
‘You typical man,’ Linyao scolded him. ‘Can’t you guess? She’s dirt poor but beautiful and fiery. He’s got no principles at all, but is stinking rich.’
‘They fell in love?’ Joyce ventured.
Linyao gave a single nod. ‘They fell in love. They got married three months after they’d met. Which was kind of weird, because she was born in Shanghai and he was born in London from an Urumqi Muslim family in a sort of self-imposed exile. She managed to convert him
Linyao and Flip were working at a table, chopping vegetables.
‘He scares me,’ she was telling him.
‘I too, now you tole me dat,’ the young man replied.
Joyce had intended to go straight to the wall and start the stain removal process, but decided instead to join the others. This conversation sounded too good to miss. She guessed they were talking about the mysterious visiting god of animal-lovers. ‘Vega?’
Linyao nodded. She was tense: her right leg was vibrating on its heel.
‘Relax. He’s on our side,’ Joyce said. ‘It’ll be fine.’
The older woman nodded again. ‘True enough. Or so it seems. But he’s extreme. You know how this sort of movement attracts extremists sometimes.’
‘You mean he goes around rescuing animals from labs and all that?’
‘That’s just for starters. Let me tell you what I’ve heard about Vega.’
Her conspiratorial tone inspired Joyce to pull her chair in more tightly. Clearly, there was some good goss about to emerge, and good goss about a celebrity they were about to meet was irresistible. Was he young and good-looking? She was tempted to ask Linyao whether she had a picture of him, but was worried she might appear crass.
Linyao leaned forward into the conversation. ‘There used to be two main animal rights groups in Shanghai. There was one north of Suzhou Creek called All Living Things—it was a very Buddhist group—and there was one that came out of Hongqiao called Friends of Creation, which was more a humanist sort of thing, a mixture of Chinese and Westerners. The Friends put out a lot of leaflets and stuff, and occasionally picketed the wet markets and things, but nothing too controversial.
‘All Living Things was a bit more lively. It was run by this young woman called Zhong Xue Qin. She was brilliant at press and publicity. She was always on TV, campaigning outside restaurants, harassing the stallholders at the wet markets and writing articles in the newspapers about animal welfare. She was also incredibly tall and thin and beautiful, which helped—classic Shanghainese blood, you know. But one time her group actually got into a fight at a restaurant serving southern Chinese food—you know how in the south they like rare animals freshly cooked. The cooks had got some endangered stuff—flying squirrels and the like. But the restaurant was owned by someone high up in the Party. Zhong and two of the group went to jail for a week. After that, we thought she would quieten down. But she became even more extreme.’
‘What sorta ting dey do?’
‘They found labs where animals were being experimented on, and stopped people going in. They got students at the universities to stop going to vivisection classes. And then she started campaigning against this supermarket chain, owned by a powerful family.’
‘Which one?’ Joyce asked.
‘Mee Fan Trading in Chinese,’ Linyao said. ‘It’s owned by a family named Mee. Actually, the real name is Memet, or something like that—they are from the far west, Urumqi—but the Guoyu version is Mee. The far west of China has lots of problems, and several members of the family moved to Canada, and some moved to London. Anyway, there were various meetings and eventually the second son of the Mee family, a UK-based guy, flew into China to join the family firm and was giving the task of sorting out the problem with Zhong Xue Qin. They met. And the predictable thing happened.’
‘What?’ Flip asked.
‘You typical man,’ Linyao scolded him. ‘Can’t you guess? She’s dirt poor but beautiful and fiery. He’s got no principles at all, but is stinking rich.’
‘They fell in love?’ Joyce ventured.
Linyao gave a single nod. ‘They fell in love. They got married three months after they’d met. Which was kind of weird, because she was born in Shanghai and he was born in London from an Urumqi Muslim family in a sort of self-imposed exile. She managed to convert him
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