Some members of the audience are unhappy with Colorful Clouds. "How can someone be so rude to our crusader for democracy?" they say. Others just enjoy the show.

Sing controls his temper and replies with a sort of calm pity in his voice. "Chinese like you who have come to the United States are just like many of the Chinese literati. You jealously attack me, a Chinese poet with international standing." Getting visibly angrier as he goes on, Sing contends, "Of course, you have an ulterior motive. You are in cahoots with the Chinese government! It's obvious you received a Communist Party education from a young age!"

"True," Colorful Clouds rebuts, as if she is a lawyer who has just found a crack in her opponent's case. "I did receive a Communist Party education from a young age. And what about you? You grew up in America, did you? Graduated from Harvard, did you? Did you receive that kind of education? From what I hear, no university in the States would take you because your English is so poor."

At this point, Sing loses all composure and yells at Colorful Clouds. "Chinese literati are just like you. When it comes down to it, you are all just jealous of my international reputation!"

"Your reputation? What reputation? I heard you moved your family to Sweden. How come you haven't won a Nobel Prize yet? I've heard that fifteen years ago, in order to stop Gao Xingjian from winning the prize, you gave him the wrong address of the Swedish Embassy in Beijing and made him miss his appointment. Oh, and by the way, you really do flatter me. Since when have I been one of the literati. I've always just been an ignorant housewife."

"You have obviously been put up to this by some jealous Chinese who wanted you to come here to make trouble!"

"No one put me up to this, and I couldn't be bothered being jealous of you. My husband makes enough money. I live in a rich neighborhood. Why would I be jealous of you? I ask a couple of questions you don't like, and suddenly I'm making trouble?"

Sing whispers something to his translator, and the translator turns to the security guards. They escort Colorful Clouds and her children out of the auditorium. Some people say to one another, "This woman is crazy. Thank God, she is leaving." Some stand up to protest: "A crusader for democracy in a democratic country who can't even tolerate different opinions. There's no point being here." They leave the auditorium.

Colorful Clouds doesn't mind being escorted out of the poetry reading. She is an opportunist. "I got the attention I need," she tells me afterward. "Maybe I should call the Peoples Daily and tell them how I defended China 's pride by debating with a traitor! If they write about me, I might get a role in the TV series From Beijing to San Francisco! "

MAREN: To criticize or insult people.

ZHENGYI: Fight and discuss; controversy.

TOUJIZHE: An opportunist. Prior to the opening of the market economy, there was no room or need for opportunists in Chinese society. Today the culture has changed, and opportunists, seeking both money and attention, have sprouted up all over the country.

After Colorful Clouds has a verbal fight with the dissident poet Sing, she makes headline news in the Chinese community as she expected. As a result of this temporary fame, she gets the small role she desperately desired on From Beijing to San Francisco.

She has returned to Beijing to shoot the TV series and to seek more attention.

She calls me. Once again I am at the Rich Wife on Xinyuan Street having my hair done with Lulu and Beibei when Colorful Clouds comes in.

She asks the hairdresser to dye her hair green.

"You want a head of Norwegian Woods?" I tease her.

"Isn't green the most in color of the year?" Colorful Clouds answers triumphantly, indicating that she is up-to-date about the latest fashion and trends.

"I'm not sure if that would suit someone your age," suggests the hairdresser.

When Colorful Clouds hears that, she glares at the girl, "Are you saying I'm old? How dare you? Now listen here, I've just come back from America. In America, the customer is king. If I slip and fall in your store, you have to compensate me a million dollars. You understand? So, whatever I say goes, and don't talk back to me."

The hairdresser mutters to herself quietly, "Who cares where you are from."

Colorful Clouds is wearing a white gown and enjoys the head massage from the hairdresser. She starts to spout:

"I'm nearly forty f 'ing years old. If I don't have fun now, I'll run out of time. In America, I'm f 'ing bored to death as a housewife. Nobody pays attention to me. I had to come to Beijing to hang out." Colorful Clouds is already forty-two, but she always says she is "nearly forty."

"While you're hanging out here, what about your three kids?" I ask.

"Those little bastards – in America I was like their nanny. This time, my husband is so thrilled to hear that I've got a role in From Beijing to San Francisco, he says he'll give me all the support I need. We've found a Mexican nanny to look after the kids for a while, and teach them some Spanish!"

"Where have you been since you came back to China this time?" I ask.

"I went to Shenzhen and Guangzhou. In Shenzhen I'm an old fart. The people and the buildings there are no more than thirty years old. In Guangzhou, I bumped into some of my old pals, Xiang the singer and Flower doing avant-garde theater. Xiang has opened a bar, loads of gays love going there. When Xiang saw me, she said, 'Girl, I thought you'd become a living fossil.' They're f 'ing crazy down there. Bands from all over the world come and perform. All sorts of bastards hang out there. I was out till two or three in the morning every day and slept over at the houses of people I didn't even know, or at the homes of friends of friends. I haven't been wild like that for years.

"One thing made me pretty angry. I hadn't seen Flower in years; I don't know when he gave himself such a stupid girly name. As soon as he saw me, he called me Silly Cunt, saying everybody knew I slept around behind my hubby's back in the States. I slapped him, he slapped me back, others came to stop us. 'You used to be pals. You haven't seen each other for over ten years, and as soon as you see each other you start fighting – what's going on?' Then, guess what Flower said? He said he had never considered me a friend and walked away. I've got a 2,500-square-foot house in Missouri, as well as a holiday home in Key West, Florida, and kids who speak English, French, and Spanish. That bastard rents a 20-square-meter flat in a Guangzhou suburb. He is simply a sore loser!" Colorful Clouds' U.S. wealth is her answer to everyone's criticism of her. Just like so many other Chinese today, being wealthy is a justification for being rude.

"Why do people like Flower gossip about me? Isn't it just because they're jealous? We all had the same starting point, the same small-town start and no advantages. Now I have it all and they don't. How could they possibly be comfortable around me? Of course they're jealous. They think I am trashy, so what? I don't care. I am welcomed by American men."

Colorful Clouds speaks haughtily, unable to restrain her superiority complex as an American Chinese. She always dreamed of living in America, even if she is a bored housewife who spends her time dreaming of returning to China and showing off to those she left behind. Beibei deliberately coughs. She despises Colorful Clouds' vanity.

"Did you get the chance to meet younger people?" I ask Colorful Clouds, just to be polite.