WHILE many of his former classmates are running around with mobile phones making deals and networking like there is no tomorrow, Xiong Ni spends most of his time fishing.
''Let other people make money,'' he says. ''I have no interest in that kind of life.'' The kind of life that interests this unemployed 26-year-old is one of quiet contemplation and meditation as far away as possible from the commercial frenzy that has engulfed Beijing over the past year or so. And that is where the fish come in.
''Fishing is very relaxing, it soothes the brain,'' he says, sitting against a lakeside tree gazing intently through a pair of cheap black plastic sunglasses at his motionless float.
Xiong's favourite spot is a small lake just inside the busy second ring road, part of the ancient waterway which leads from the Fragrant Hills in the west to the inner sanctum of the Chinese Communist Party, Zhongnanhai, right in the centre of Beijing.
The lake, being home to a particularly fertile strain of green pond weed, is not quite as picturesque as the waters China's leaders gaze out to each morning, but it is pleasant enough.
Despite its inner city location, the lake is remarkably tranquil, with only the cicadas in the surrounding trees and the occasional marauding school child to disturb the peace.