Jacques pried his eyes open.

Fuck…

The light through the curtains was a punishing glare, and his head banged in time with his heartbeat. He wasn’t hungover. He was drunk. He was always drunk. All he could taste in his cotton-dry mouth was an acrid mixture of whisky and cigarettes. Rubbing his eyes, Jacques felt something move.

What the…

It was a young woman’s hand. Soft, warm and pale, it slid slowly across his chest. For one long, nerve-shredding moment, he had no idea who it was. And then he remembered.

Xiǎo Fú…

Jacques turned his head and looked at her. With her long black hair fanned out across her pillow and her delicate features now free of make-up, Fú Fú looked younger than she had the night before. Lifting her arm, Jacques placed it on the sheet beside her. The soft sigh from her lips only made his gut churn harder.

You really are a bastard, Jacques…

Swinging his feet to the tiled floor, he stepped over the used condoms by the bed, and swayed past the piles of dirty clothes and rows of empty bottles, and sat down naked at his desk.

Jesus, I need a drink…

Jacques picked up the bottle of vodka from the desk and poured himself a long one. Several minutes later, he poured himself another. And then ten minutes after that, he poured himself another. Lighting up a Zhongnanhai cigarette, he looked down at the stack of unfinished translations piled up on his desk, next to his closed laptop. Contracts for shoe factories. Technical manuals for mining equipment. Customs declaration forms. All of them long overdue.

Yeah, yeah, yeah…

I see you… Fuckers…

Beside the pile of unfinished work, the screen of his mobile phone was glowing. He had three new unread messages. All of them from an Australian client: Frankie “Mad Dog” Barker. The last of them read: “Jacques, where are you, mate? I need those manuals ASAP. Make sure to call me later, OK?”

Jack shrugged and exhaled slowly.

Yeah, of course…

Later, “mate”…

Much, much later…

Jacques rubbed his eyes and reached for the silver strip of Valium, which was next to the overfilled ashtray. He took one of the pills and washed it down, and then filled his glass again. Leaning back in his wooden chair, he lit another cigarette and waited for his mood to settle

Outside the walls of his apartment, the world was already wide awake. Next door, the old couple were complaining loudly about the lack of respect shown to them by their daughter-in-law. Upstairs, the low, distinctive rasp of the storyteller, Shàn Tiánfāng, blared out from a radio. And in the flat below his feet, someone was trying to coax a god-awful tune out of an old zhuihu.

Duì…

Same old, same old, Jacques…

Nothing changes here…

His body soothed, if only for a short while, Jacques closed his eyes and let his mind relax. Turning the pages of his drunken memory, he followed his thoughts back to the night before…

They had been in “Kōngxū” – a small, quiet, backstreet bar, where Jacques liked to drink. It was late, and the two of them were sitting at a sticky, round, wooden table.

Until last night, they had just been friends. Nothing more. Jacques had been helping Fú Fú to prepare for her upcoming interview at the embassy. Like his ex-girlfriend, Bǎo Líng, she wanted to emigrate to the country where she had been studying. Pouring them both glass after glass of whisky mixed with green tea, Fú Fú had been talking excitedly about all the things she was going to do when she was once again free of this “backwards” kingdom and all of its constraints.

“Here’s to no more parents, Jacques!” Fú Fú laughed, raising her glass, “And no more family bullshit! Yes, here’s to freedom, Jacques! Freedom!”

Jacques didn’t reply or raise his glass because he wasn’t listening. He’d been drinking for hours before she arrived, and distracted by thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, he was looking down the front of her low-cut blouse. It was the kind of thing that Bǎo Líng liked to wear. To draw attention to her more than ample breasts. To seduce rich overseas Chinese men into buying her dinners and expensive gifts. To top up the “too small” money that her parents had been sending her. To play them all for sex-mad fools, just like she’d done with Jacques.

Yeah, three years, I supported you… Three fucking years…

Clothes… Money… Make-up…. Shoes…

Yeah… And for what, Líng Líng?…

And all for fucking what?…

“Hey, Jacques,” said Fú Fú, tapping him on the arm, “Are you OK?”

Looking back up at her pretty young face, Jacques nodded at her gently.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, patting her softly on the thigh, “Seriously, don’t worry about me, Fú Fú. You have enough on your plate, as it is.”

Fú Fú leaned forward in her chair.

“Yeah, well, I do worry about you, Jacques. You are always in here, alone. And all this drinking, Jacques. It’s really not good for you…”

Placing her hand on top of his, Fú Fú pressed his hand against her thigh.

“Honestly, Jacques, I worry about you. I worry about you a lot.”

“Yeah?” smiled Jacques, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh, “And why is that, then, Fú Fú?”

Leaning in towards him, Fú Fú whispered her answer into his ear.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you, Jacques. That’s why…”

Opening his eyes, Jacques returned to the now. He didn’t need to recall any more. He already knew what had happened next. The evidence was all there behind him. The discarded clothes on the floor. The used condoms. The damp stains all over the bed sheets and covers. Picking up the bottle, he poured himself another drink and turned and looked at Fú Fú, who was still sleeping blissfully.

She really is a pretty thing, isn’t she?…

Yeah… And wild with it, too…

Rubbing his eyes, Jacques picked up the bottle and filled his glass again.

Yeah, but she’s only twenty-five, “mate”…

That’s why she thinks that she’s in love with a fucking drunk like you…

And why she was spouting all that crap about “freedom” last night…

Seriously, “baby”, what the hell does that word mean when someone else is paying for it?….

Shaking his head, Jacques drained his glass and let the question hang there. His focus fixed on her sleeping figure, Jacques let his eyes run up and down the fine, firm curve of her exposed backside, until it became very hard for him not to notice that his body was now wide awake and in urgent need of more.

Yes…

Maybe she does need another “French lesson”…

But this time, a far harder and a far more punishing one…

Leaning back in his chair, Jacques ran his hands through his short, blonde hair and chuckled to himself.

Assez, Jacques, assez…

Come on, let’s go…

Primed for the day, if not for work, Jacques got up from the chair and got himself dressed. As ever, his choice of clothes was his usual one. A black cotton shirt, a pair of black jeans, no underwear, and a pair of black bamboo socks. Taking care not to wake her up, Jacques took his black coat down from the back of the bedroom door and then slid his feet into his black loafers. Standing on the other side of the door, he turned and looked at Fú Fú.

À plus, ma petite amie…

It was better this way. Fú Fú would wake up, and he would be gone. She would think he was a total bastard, and she would be right. She would realise that all of his faux-Gallic charm was nothing but a sham. It was a harsh lesson, but one that was better than the one he had briefly thought about. Opening the apartment door, Jacques went to head out to a quiet place to drink when he heard Fú Fú calling out to him.

“Jacques?… Jacques?… Where are you, baby?”

It was a good question.

Walking down the concrete stairs of his apartment block, Jacques felt his phone vibrate.