Trust Me, I’m Lying
This is the story of the 2021 Chinese New Year’s eve when I met the father of my fake girlfriend. If you don’t know the backstory, I’d suggest you first read How I Became a Fake Boyfriend in China before reading any further.
One of my friends (whom I briefly dated in 2016) was being pressured by her family to get married, because she was turning 28. So, to get them off her back, she lied that she was already in a relationship. But then her dad showed up in Shenzhen a few days before the Chinese New Year and asked to meet the boyfriend that didn’t exist. To solve the problem, she looked online but no one fit the criteria, so she asked me to be her fake boyfriend and I said yes. Though I regret it now.
I arrived in the lobby of The Ritz-Carlton at 5:00 pm. Her dad wanted to have the blossom themed afternoon tea. The concierge took me to the lounge adjacent to the dramatic three-story atrium of the hotel lobby that echoed a design with a focal curved wall composed of wood and back-lit golden-hued onyx. “This onyx offers the quintessential tea experience for relaxation and unwinding after a long day at work,” he smiled. What work? I’m on holidays. This shit is not gonna relax me, I thought. I took out my phone, and texted her. “I’ll be a few minutes late, but dad is coming down to meet you now,” she wrote back.
Coming down? The Ritz-Carlton was the most expensive hotel in town. I’m talking about $1000 USD per night on average. No wonder she wanted me to be a fucking plastic surgeon who went to Harvard Medical School. I should’ve said no, I panicked, What was I thinking.
“Dr. Ashman,” he put out his hand, “what a pleasure,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” I shook his hand, “you can just call me Alex,” I said.
“Dr. Alexander Ashman. What a name, the honor is all mine,” his smile was genuine, which put me at ease, but it also made me feel bad. This is so wrong, I thought.
“Wǒmen kěyǐ ná càidān ma?” (Can we get the menu please?) I looked at the waitress. Her dad smiled while looking at his brand-new gold iPhone 12 Pro Max, and said, “I hope you don’t mind Dr. Ashman, but I’ve already ordered the executive pastry chef’s specially crafted menu which perfectly blends the flavors of passion fruit, raspberry, blueberry, and more.” I nodded with a smile.
Then he continued, “Wake up your taste buds and savor the joy of smoked salmon roll with sour cream, salmon roe and butter bread.”
Who talks like that? I wondered.
Right at that moment, she appeared from behind me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “don’t worry, he’s reading the script on his phone, he’s more nervous than you are,” she put the new Celine handbag on the table that she bought the other day during our shopping trip.
“I thought this was a gift for your sister,” I admired her handbag. “It looks better on me,” she laughed.
“Let us create Ritz-Carlton memories with a wide spread of creative delicacies, just for you, Dr. Ashman,” he read.
“Bàba, bié chǎole, tā yǐjīng xǐhuān nǐle” (Stop it dad, he already likes you,) she said. He smiled, and put his phone away. Then she pointed her eyes towards the Louis Vuitton gift bag. “This is a small gift for you,” I passed the bag to him. “Xièxiè nǐ” (Thank you,) he said, got up, and walked away. I raised my eyebrows and turned to look at her. “He’s going to his room now, to put that on,” she giggled. I shook my head, this really feels like the Crazy Rich Asians novel.
Ten minutes later, her dad returned with a big grin on his face, and the $800 Louis Vuitton leather belt around his waist. We wanted to stay longer, but we had reservations at 7:00 pm at a fancy seafood restaurant on the other side of the city, so we called his chauffeur and left for dinner.
The first hour was pleasant, we wore gloves, broke shells, and savored the fresh seafood. It was mostly eating, slurping, and saying Zhēn hào chī (This is so delicious.) But then the gloves came off, and he ordered a $780 bottle of Kweichow Moutai; China’s most elite brand of liquor. Her father poured shots for all of us, and then took out his phone and read, “Moutai was the favorite drink of China’s founding father Mao Zedong who famously served it at state dinners during US President Richard Nixon's visit to China in 1972,” he poured another round of shots and continued reading, “doing shots with Moutai is part of the business culture and accelerates building trust and friendships,” he put his phone down and poured another round, “you like it?” he looked at me.
“The first time I tried Moutai, it tasted like engine oil, and burnt my throat on the way down. But today, it’s really smooth,” I raised my glass, “Gānbēi” (Cheers,) I said. After that shot, things got a bit blurry. Also, because he picked up his phone and started asking me questions I didn’t expect at all. I was prepared to talk about med school, plastic surgery, celebrity clients. But he wanted to know about Boston, Massachusetts. I’ve never been to Boston, so it’s not like I could’ve winged it. It was me versus his phone, so things got bad. He got suspicious. And then I made the biggest mistake.
“Nín de zhěnsuǒ zài nǎlǐ?” (Where is your clinic?) He asked.
I told him it was in Shekou, because that was the most expensive area in Shenzhen. But apparently my fake girlfriend had told him earlier that I did all my surgeries in Hong Kong. It was a precaution in case he wanted to visit, and we could tell him that due to COVID-19 we couldn’t cross the border.
“Hǎo ba zǒu ba wǒ xiǎng kàn kàn” (Okay, let’s go, I want to see,") he raised his voice.
Fuck me, I glanced at her. Where was I supposed to take him? There was no clinic, there were no surgeries, there was no Dr. Alexander Ashman.
Her father squinted his eyes, picked up his phone and read, “In 1974, the US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger told Deng Xiaoping: I think if we drink enough Moutai we can solve anything," his lips tightened and curled inward. “You, a big big liar!” He threw his arms in the air, and his brand-new gold iPhone 12 Pro Max flew out of his hand and hit the left jaw of his daughter.
The next few minutes were a bit blurry. She laid on the ground, surrounded by broken glass covered in her blood. “Wǒ méishì. Wǒ méishì” (I’m fine. I’m fine,) she said, pulled me closer, and whispered in my ear, “I have a crazy idea, take me to emergency now.” I looked at her dad who was ready to kill me, then I looked back at her. What would Henry Kissinger do? I thought.
“I’ll get my wisdom tooth out,” she said. I thought that was brilliant, but I shook my head. “Either that or we go to your clinic,” she laughed.
The x-ray showed she had two wisdom teeth left. I suggested she pull both of them out at the same time, but she disagreed, and said, “it’s always good to have a contingency plan, you still need to meet my mom.”
Now I know, Henry Kissinger was right. Moutai can solve anything.
