So this is how it happens. This is how I become like them, Phoebe thought. In the space of a few hours she had passed from one world to another. One moment she was almost an assistant manager in an international classy restaurant; next moment she was a migrant worker. Her new life had materialized out of thin air like a trick of fate: unattached, searching, alone. Some people say that when you find other people who are just like you, who share your position in life, you feel happier, less alone, but Phoebe did not think this was true. Knowing that she was the same as millions of other girls made her feel lonelier than ever.
She found a standard room in a place that called itself a hotel, but it was so low-class that it felt like a hostel. The door wouldnt lock, so she slept with her handbag tucked into her belly, curving into a tight C shape.
Those first few months in Shenzhen passed very quickly. During this time Phoebe did a number of jobs that she would rather not talk about right now. Maybe someday, but not now.
You can rely only on yourself. There are no true friends in this world. If you place your trust in others, you will open yourself to danger and hurtfulness.
She took the bus to Guangzhou and got a job at a factory for the Guangdong Bigfaith Quality Garment Company, which made fashion clothes for Western brands not the expensive labels that Phoebe had heard of but lesser ones that sold shiny colorful clothes. The other girls, though, told Phoebe that the clothes were sold in trendy shops, even though they were low cost. Apparently, in the West, even rich people bought cheap clothes. Personally, Phoebe did not want any of the skirts or jackets or blouses that were made at the factory; they looked unclassy even to her. Her job was to match up the orders to the delivery notes and make sure that everything tallied. It was not a difficult job, but still she cried every night. The hours were long and at night she had to endure being in a dorm with the other girls, so many other girls. She hated seeing their underwear strung up on washing lines in every room, even in the corridors, drying in the damp air. Everywhere you went in the dormitory block, all you saw were lines of damp underwear, and the whole place smelled of detergent and sweat. All day and night there was arguing and crying. She hated this, especially the nighttime sobbing. It was as if everyone thought that when it was dark no one could hear them cry. She had to get away from them, she was not like them, but for now she had no choice.
The other hard thing to deal with was the jealousy, the things that were being said about her. (Why did she get such a good job straightaway? Why was she in admin and not on the production line, when shed only just entered the company? I hear she hasnt even been out for that long.) Well, Phoebe wanted to explain, first of all it was because she could speak English and Cantonese, the language of all the rich factory owners down here in the south. And, quite simply, it was because she was better than the rest of them. But she knew to keep silent. She was afraid of the large groups of girls who came from the big provinces, especially the Hunanese girls who smuggled things out of the factory to sell outside and threatened to kill anyone who reported them. They liked to fight. Everyone had their own clan for protection: The Sichuan girls looked after one another; even the Anhui girls were numerous enough to have support. Only Phoebe was alone, but she would rise up above them all, because she was smarter. A line stuck in her head, advice given to her by the self-made millionaire. Hide your brightness; remain in the shadows. So she had to endure the jealousy and the detergent and the sweat and the crying. But for how long?
The other hard thing to deal with was the jealousy, the things that were being said about her. (Why did she get such a good job straightaway? Why was she in admin and not on the production line, when shed only just entered the company? I hear she hasnt even been out for that long.) Well, Phoebe wanted to explain, first of all it was because she could speak English and Cantonese, the language of all the rich factory owners down here in the south. And, quite simply, it was because she was better than the rest of them. But she knew to keep silent. She was afraid of the large groups of girls who came from the big provinces, especially the Hunanese girls who smuggled things out of the factory to sell outside and threatened to kill anyone who reported them. They liked to fight. Everyone had their own clan for protection: The Sichuan girls looked after one another; even the Anhui girls were numerous enough to have support. Only Phoebe was alone, but she would rise up above them all, because she was smarter. A line stuck in her head, advice given to her by the self-made millionaire. Hide your brightness; remain in the shadows. So she had to endure the jealousy and the detergent and the sweat and the crying. But for how long?
Do not let lesser people drag you down. You are a star that shines brightly.
She had a picture of a Taiwanese pop star by her bed. It was just a page torn from a magazine, an advertisement for cows milk, but it was a nicer decoration than the strung-up panties that the other girls had. It was a struggle to keep the Scotch tape stuck on the glossy painted walls, because the humidity kept making the top corner fall away. But still she persisted so that she could look at him and dream about a world where there was no sobbing. If she turned her body at an angle, they were the only two in the world. She liked his delicate smile and watery eyes and found even the silly white milk mustache on his lip endearing. When she looked at his face, she felt an eternal hope swell up in her chest. His gentleness made her forget about the harshness of the world and made her believe that she could work hard and show the world her true inner beauty. Maybe she could one day even be his girlfriend. Oh, she knew that it was only a fantasy, but he was so dreamy and reminded her of the boys she had grown up with, whom she would remember forever as teenagers, even though they had now all moved to the cities and were selling fake-leather wallets and probably amphetamines on the side. They had been so happy before, and now they were all growing old so quickly, including Phoebe.
But you are so young, little sister. This is what the new manager of her division began saying to her one day. He was a man from Hong Kong, not fat not thin, not ugly not handsome, just a man from Hong Kong. Once a month he would visit the factory and spend four or five days there. Every time he came, he would call her into his office and show her the gifts he had brought for her a bag of the juiciest tangerines, small sugary pineapples from Taiwan, strawberries, some foreign chocolate that tasted bitter and floury delicacies that people bought when they could afford to travel. The hamper of fruit lay on his desk, wrapped in stiff crinkly plastic that made a loud noise when she touched it. She did not know how she was going to carry it all the way back to her dorm, across the huge courtyard and the basketball courts, did not know where she would keep it or how she would explain it to the other girls. The jealousy toward her had not really gone away; the tide had subsided for now but was waiting to well up like a tsunami at any moment. She knew that the gift was wrong, that she had not done anything to deserve it, but as she looked at the shiny ripe persimmons, she felt special. Someone had noticed her; someone had thought of her enough to buy her nice things. It had been a long time since anyone had done that, so she accepted the gift.
As she carried the basket down the corridor to her dorm, she could feel the other girls hot stares burning her with their envy. She was sweating and her heart was heavy with guilt, heavier than the basket she was carrying. But as she walked in to the dorm, she found herself talking freely, the words flowing easily from her mouth. Ei, everyone, look what I have! A cousin of mine in Hong Kong got married to a very rich man. I couldnt afford to go to the wedding, so they sent me some tokens of their big celebration. Come, come, lets all share!
Hei, you did not tell us you are from Hong Kong.
Yes, Phoebe said, from near the border, in the New Territories.
Oooh, the girls said as they reached for the fruit. So I guess its natural that you speak Cantonese! We thought you just learned it to curry favor with the boss!
This is how things happen in China, Phoebe thought as she sat watching her new friends share the basket of fruit. Things change so fast. From then on, all the girls knew who she was, and they were nice to her. They took her clothes and washed them for her when she was on a long shift, and some of them began to talk to her about their private lives where they were from, their boyfriend problems, their ambitions. One day she was talking to a girl, someone she shared meal breaks with in the canteen sometimes, not really a friend. The girls mobile phone rang, and the girl looked at the screen without answering. Her face twisted into a pained expression and she handed the phone to Phoebe, saying, Its the boy I was telling you about, the one who bullies me. Phoebe took the phone and did not even say hello. This is your ex-girlfriends older cousin-sister, she said. This mobile phone belongs to me now. Your ex has a new boyfriend and he is rich and educated, not a stupid peasant like you, so go away or else I will make trouble for you. I know who you are and which lousy place you work at.
Wah, you are amazing, Phoebe! the girl said. Everyone was laughing, and someone even reached out and put her arm around Phoebes shoulders.
On her first day off that month, she went with some other girls to the cinema. They stopped at a fast-food place and had bubble milk tea before buying a box of octopus balls, which they ate while strolling through the night market, linking elbows as if they were still in middle school. They turned their noses up at the cheap clothes, far cheaper than the ones they made in the factory, stall after stall of thin spangled nylon. The music on the speakers was loud, thumping in their rib cages and drowning out their heartbeats. It made them feel so alive. The smell of fried food and charcoal grills felt familiar to Phoebe she did not feel so very far from home after all. They saw posters advertising the latest concert of the Taiwanese singer she liked, and the ticket prices did not look too expensive.