"Wait a minute. I was the one who took you here," I think, but I check myself. What's the point? After a cup of English tea, I leave the bar. After I get home, I call my friend Lulu right away, recounting the story.

"May May is typical of the one-child generation," says Lulu. "Their problem is that they want to be number one. They see everyone as rivals, not friends. They've lost their ability to keep friends."

Human beings have their own rules for games. It doesn't matter what culture we are living in, there are certain rules we all observe. For example, we should not sleep with our bosses. We should not sleep with our girlfriends' boyfriends. And we should not sleep with married men, in their bedrooms or anyplace else.

China has been a conformist society for too long. Perhaps that explains why the new generations want to be different. They defy conformity by breaking the rules and testing the limits. But sometimes, they challenge the rules set not only by Chinese standards but by Western standards as well.

May May is such a rule-breaker. She doesn't believe in the existence of limits. She has many hobbies, one of which is sleeping with middle-aged M.B.A.s – men who are married but available.

She tells me about her theory in a hot-pot restaurant called the Imperial Mama. "Young men are like grapes and middle-aged men are like wine. Their bellies may grow bigger, and the number of hairs on their heads may become fewer, but they are more attractive; they make me feel intoxicated."

"Why is that?" I ask. I come from a different school of thought. As a woman who is reaching her thirties, I become more and more interested in younger men, the so-called boy toys.

"Middle-aged men tend to be more generous in bed than younger men, who often don't want to control their desires. Middle-aged men tend to be more successful financially. They can buy you expensive gifts, whereas young boys can only send you flowers or a box of chocolates. Since middle-aged men have been around, and they have more status and more networks, they can help you with your career. They also understand women and know very well how to please us." May May speaks as if she is giving a lecture at a university.

I say, "Well, what you say might explain why you love middle-aged men, but it doesn't explain why you always go out with the married ones."

May May laughs. "Don't you think that middle-aged M.B.A.s are a more desirable group than those who are still single?"

"That can be true in China." I nod.

May May continues with a smile. "Our parents' generation is the generation of obedience. I like to live on the edge. I like to sleep with married men because the thrill of stealing makes the sex even more exciting! It's so cool to do it in their own bedrooms during the day when their wives are at work."

"In the same bed that they share with their wives? Not a motel or something? Don't you think it's an intrusion into the wives' territory?" I ask.

"That's exactly the point. I am like an invader. Society encourages us to be competitive! I hate losing. It feels so good that these smart men are willing to betray their women and come to me. It's called charm."

"Do you think they like you because you're so irresistible?" I ask.

"Well, I'm a modern liberal woman. I can give them the level of passion that their wives can't. In return, I get the uninhibited, carnal sex that I want," May May says proudly.

I can sense that May May believes totally in her unconventional lifestyle and her ability to entice men into bed. She considers herself superior to the wives because she has the fun and none of the work relating to marriage.

"May May," I ask, "do you think that the M.B.A.s' attraction to you comes from the fact that you're a plaything for them and they don't have to be serious with you. That they are merely on the hunt for another good time, a cheap thrill that they can brag about to their buddies?"

May May replies with a sneer. "So what, it beats having a bowl of instant noodles and renting a movie while home alone by myself. If men can brag about their conquests, why can't I?"

Her speech echoes that of Colorful Clouds.

"May May, do you know Colorful Clouds?" I can't help asking.

"Yes. I know of her. Both of us publicize our sexual adventures on a Chinese blog. I've got far more hits than she has. Apparently, she's a bore. Her pictures are ugly too. I have the talent and charisma. Plus, I believe I'm younger."

Just then, a good-looking couple comes into view. May May notices and says to me, "I wonder what she sees in him? When I find out, I'll give you all the details." May May starts to preen and adjust her clothing. She is about to enter another playground.

There is a regular get-together of some of the nouveaux riches in Beijing. Often, the less rich – the reporters, models, and authors – are invited to party with them as their guests.

Just as Hollywood celebrities sometimes need groupies and paparazzi to create certain scenes, the new Chinese bourgeoisie need those who are not quite as rich to be their listeners. It is simply not good enough to enjoy the good life in private. A rich life has to be told and retold, and then gossiped about.

On a Tuesday evening, just a regular hot summer's day in Beijing, Beibei and I attend a party organized by these parvenus in a house that is located in a discreet and well-manicured suburban neighborhood.

When we arrive, some investment bankers have already gathered to discuss plans while sipping Jack Daniels. Their long-term goal is to retire at forty-five and their short-term goal is to improve their golf games. Everyone agrees that their approach shots and their putting techniques could be better.

Apparently, this is all standard talk in such gatherings of the newly rich, and part of the game. The thinking is that the good life needs to be told, especially to those who are have-nots. The hangers-on play their part too. Their envy and attentiveness are all part of the same game.

An interesting conversation between two female authors gets the attention of both Beibei and me.

One of them is called Andrea. "My English lover has a ranch in New Zealand. I love to do my writing there."

The other female author named Yani raises one eyebrow. "Really? Then, we're neighbors! I write from my beach house in Australia. If we have an attack of writer's block, we can fly over and meet for coffee."

An attentive female listener who looks a bit unsophisticated and naive like a college student exclaims, "Wow, you guys are real international freemen – no, free women! So cool! It's my first time to meet such people. I'm honored."

The two authors' faces radiate pleasure, the pleasure of being admired and envied. Yani smiles at the listener. "Well, I might be an international woman. But it doesn't matter where I go, I always like China the best."

"I know why she likes China the best: only China can guarantee her an audience when she brags." Beibei says under her breath to me.

As we walk around, we hear more hilarious lines popping up from the newly rich and famous. Some are quite creative and subtle:

"My life has been crazy! Breakfast in Hong Kong, lunch in Singapore, and dinner in Beijing!" "I only eat fresh vegetables from my own garden." "I walk nine holes every day." And so on. Always, there are listeners who show great admiration and envy.

I spot a friend whom I haven't seen for ages. Immediately he comes over to greet me. His name is Kevin Chen. Like many of my childhood friends, Kevin is one of the best and the brightest of the generation born after 1970. His path is also quite typical: he graduated from the People's University with a degree in international finance and then went to Stanford to get his M.B.A. He currently works for AIG.