The Neighbours
The first I knew of our new neighbours was when I rode up in the lift with Xiao Wang the water-delivery man and noticed that he was delivering cigarettes and soft drinks instead of water. Because the tap water here is not safe to drink everyone has a water cooler in their home, and when the barrel is empty, we call downstairs to the shop and order a new one. Xiao Wang spends his days shouldering water barrels, staggering across the compound and installing them in peoples’ flats. In our case this is especially difficult, as we put our water cooler 3 feet off the ground on top of an old filing cabinet to prevent Sam from flooding the place. Despite this he is always very cheerful and greets Sam and Isaac whenever he sees them outside. Sam calls him “water delivery uncle” (song shui shu-shu), which makes perfect sense in Chinese.
I had never seen Xiao Wang delivering anything else before, apart from some packets of instant noodles once for Xiao Long’s lunch. It seemed cheeky to have the guy run around with your cigarettes when the shop is only just downstairs, so I was extremely curious when he got out at our floor and rang the bell of the next-door flat. This flat had been empty since the family bought a penthouse on the top floor and moved upstairs, but I knew they were trying to find tenants and I was intrigued to find out who our new neighbours were. The door was answered by a young man with a shaggy hair cut and baggy trousers. The tv in the room behind him was turned up full volume and even after I had gone into our flat and closed the door, I could hear it as if it was in our sitting room. This was not a good sign. Even less good when it continued all day and late into the night, supplemented by the doorbell ringing on and off as other young men with shaggy haircuts came and went.
The next day I asked Xiao Long if she had noticed the new neighbours. “Ayo, they are a bunch of layabouts!” she exclaimed indignantly. “They sit around all day watching tv and smoking. What are they up to?” She had found out that there were 4 young men sharing the apartment, but only 1 or 2 of them appeared to have a key because several times a day one of them would hammer on the door or ring the bell repeatedly to be let in. The guys inside probably couldn’t hear because of the tv. Over the next few days Xiao Long kept me posted on what was going on. She was outraged by the appearance of several young women who went in and out at odd hours, but she was most annoyed by the tv noise, as were we. Ironically my friend Louise, who is thinking of buying a flat in this compound, had asked me just the week before whether we were bothered by noise from our neighbours. I had airily replied that we never heard anything, apart from the person upstairs who has a heavy tread going to bed late at night, and someone’s child who practices the piano, luckily fairly well, on weekend mornings. But I spoke too soon.
Xiao Long wondered if these young guys are operating a “tea house” in the flat. “You mean people come there to drink tea?” I asked incredulously. “Not just to drink tea,” she said, meaningfully, “opening a private tea house in your home is all the rage at the moment. You have 3 or 4 tables and people come to play mahjong or poker, mostly poker because the stakes are higher.” Comprehension dawned. “You mean people are gambling? Isn’t that illegal?” “Of course it is, but when has that stopped anybody?” Xiao Long told me that her husband’s older brother had invested in a one ninth share in a private tea house earlier this year and in the first month he made 30,000 yuan (about 20,000 pounds) from his share alone! The owners make their money by taking a cut of the winners’ earnings, which gives you an idea of how much money is changing hands. They provide tea and snacks and sometimes food as well and of course shoulder the risk of operating an illegal business, which probably involves pay-offs to the police. Even legal businesses have to deal with pay-offs. A friend of ours who runs a restaurant here in Chengdu was asked to pay some money to a government office and when he refused, he was told his business was creating a noise hazard and he would have to close unless he could get a written statement of approval from every resident on the street, which was lined with blocks of flats.
It seemed unlikely to me that the shaggy boys next door were running a gambling den in a respectable flat in Jinguan New City, but you never know. After a couple of days Xiao Long bumped into the new neighbour’s landlady in the lift and she asked her if we were bothered by the noise. Xiao Long let her have it, but this came as no surprise to the landlady. Apparently she had received complaints from all over the building. Even the people 2 floors above were bothered by the noise and she had already told the young men that they would either have to tone it down or leave the flat. A week later you wouldn’t even know they were there, except when one of them forgets his key. Perhaps they all found respectable jobs, or perhaps they are still in there all day, watching tv with the volume lowered. There has been no sign of any young women, let alone any potential gamblers. If they are running a “tea house”, business is very slow.
I had never seen Xiao Wang delivering anything else before, apart from some packets of instant noodles once for Xiao Long’s lunch. It seemed cheeky to have the guy run around with your cigarettes when the shop is only just downstairs, so I was extremely curious when he got out at our floor and rang the bell of the next-door flat. This flat had been empty since the family bought a penthouse on the top floor and moved upstairs, but I knew they were trying to find tenants and I was intrigued to find out who our new neighbours were. The door was answered by a young man with a shaggy hair cut and baggy trousers. The tv in the room behind him was turned up full volume and even after I had gone into our flat and closed the door, I could hear it as if it was in our sitting room. This was not a good sign. Even less good when it continued all day and late into the night, supplemented by the doorbell ringing on and off as other young men with shaggy haircuts came and went.
The next day I asked Xiao Long if she had noticed the new neighbours. “Ayo, they are a bunch of layabouts!” she exclaimed indignantly. “They sit around all day watching tv and smoking. What are they up to?” She had found out that there were 4 young men sharing the apartment, but only 1 or 2 of them appeared to have a key because several times a day one of them would hammer on the door or ring the bell repeatedly to be let in. The guys inside probably couldn’t hear because of the tv. Over the next few days Xiao Long kept me posted on what was going on. She was outraged by the appearance of several young women who went in and out at odd hours, but she was most annoyed by the tv noise, as were we. Ironically my friend Louise, who is thinking of buying a flat in this compound, had asked me just the week before whether we were bothered by noise from our neighbours. I had airily replied that we never heard anything, apart from the person upstairs who has a heavy tread going to bed late at night, and someone’s child who practices the piano, luckily fairly well, on weekend mornings. But I spoke too soon.
Xiao Long wondered if these young guys are operating a “tea house” in the flat. “You mean people come there to drink tea?” I asked incredulously. “Not just to drink tea,” she said, meaningfully, “opening a private tea house in your home is all the rage at the moment. You have 3 or 4 tables and people come to play mahjong or poker, mostly poker because the stakes are higher.” Comprehension dawned. “You mean people are gambling? Isn’t that illegal?” “Of course it is, but when has that stopped anybody?” Xiao Long told me that her husband’s older brother had invested in a one ninth share in a private tea house earlier this year and in the first month he made 30,000 yuan (about 20,000 pounds) from his share alone! The owners make their money by taking a cut of the winners’ earnings, which gives you an idea of how much money is changing hands. They provide tea and snacks and sometimes food as well and of course shoulder the risk of operating an illegal business, which probably involves pay-offs to the police. Even legal businesses have to deal with pay-offs. A friend of ours who runs a restaurant here in Chengdu was asked to pay some money to a government office and when he refused, he was told his business was creating a noise hazard and he would have to close unless he could get a written statement of approval from every resident on the street, which was lined with blocks of flats.
It seemed unlikely to me that the shaggy boys next door were running a gambling den in a respectable flat in Jinguan New City, but you never know. After a couple of days Xiao Long bumped into the new neighbour’s landlady in the lift and she asked her if we were bothered by the noise. Xiao Long let her have it, but this came as no surprise to the landlady. Apparently she had received complaints from all over the building. Even the people 2 floors above were bothered by the noise and she had already told the young men that they would either have to tone it down or leave the flat. A week later you wouldn’t even know they were there, except when one of them forgets his key. Perhaps they all found respectable jobs, or perhaps they are still in there all day, watching tv with the volume lowered. There has been no sign of any young women, let alone any potential gamblers. If they are running a “tea house”, business is very slow.
posted by Cat Platt at 1:17 pm
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