Michael’s night in Beijing

“You like these shoes, don’t you?” I nodded. “How do you know?” She smiled. “I can tell. You’ve been glancing at them every so often.

written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Submitted by a visitor

I turned up my collar against the cold, biting wind which blew unendingly from the west. Dust accumulated between my teeth if I opened my mouth. Little scraps of paper blew round and round, swarming like excited children. I stepped out into the wide boulevard and checked my watch. 11 pm. The streets of Beijing were nearly empty at this time of night, save for the occasional taxi. I stuck out my arm as I saw a yellow compact Citroen drive by. The car pulled over and I hopped in the back.

The driver wrinkled his nose at me. “No English!” He wagged his finger and shook his head. “No English.”

“Don’t worry, I speak Mandarin,” I replied sharply. The driver looked surprised for an instant, and then visibly relaxed.

“A foreigner who knows Mandarin.” He shook his head in half-disbelief. “Going where?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. I’m looking for live music at this time of night. Do you know of any bars like that?”

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