In today's China, humility is an obsolete word. People care more about their facade of money, status or anything that makes them feel superior to others. Niuniu has seen people who cannot contain their snootiness as they drop English words into conversations, or date a Westerner. She understands the mentality behind the superiority complex. In a country made up of 70 per cent peasants, people want to inflate their ego once they think they have reached a certain level of comfort. After all, they have been poor for so long. Niuniu is low-key. Like most of her yuppie friends, she thinks showing off is for the fake yuppies who lack confidence and security. Her friend Qian Ning, the son of China's former vice-premier Qian Qichen, once said, 'China has only landlords, not real aristocrats.' Qian Ning has all the buzz ranging from haigui pai (returnee), gaogan zidi (kid of high-ranking officials) and CEO, to business consultant at a Fortune 500 foreign enterprise. Yet he is neither arrogant nor intimidating. Niuniu thinks this is what a real yuppie should be like. Playing humble may be cool among the yuppies themselves, but bravado often serves its purpose. There is another famous yuppie, named Huahua, in the Beijing cultural circle. She publishes magazines, makes movies and hosts extravagant parties. Swearing, smoking, and wearing ragged clothes, this short-haired woman stands out as China's George Sand. So far so good. Huahua recently published her memoirs. The promotion for her biography has turned the maverick into a flamboyant bluffer whose audacity reminds one of the con artists who try to sell fake American diplomas on the streets in the College District. Unlike previous shoddy biographies by peasant-girl-turned-Cinderella writers who get cheap thrills and quick bucks by selling their bedroom adventures with different races, Huahua's biography highlights her privileged upbringing. She goes into great detail about the rank of her famous grandfather, mother, father and stepfather to demonstrate her elite bloodline. Unlike Qian who doesn't believe in the existence of the aristocrats in a communist state, Huahua tries to paint herself as a 'royal' of the red noble class, if there is one. Her distinguished blood makes it more legitimate and less tacky when she talks at length about her marriages with her American, French and Chinese husbands, an interracial theme that has been over-written by previous authors. Huahua keeps saying with pride that her English is better than her Chinese. A red noble is not enough. The combination of an American passport and the communist ranking is considered even more cool. Finally, the most cliched part of the book is blatantly giving out the figures of the American dollars she was making back in the 1980s when the majority of Chinese were too poor to know the exchange rate between the US dollar and the yuan. Why does a woman like Huahua need this direct hard-sell style to promote such a small book? And what makes the real yuppies like Huahua become so desperate? Niuniu wonders. Beibei, who is more savvy, says to Niuniu: 'Since her book is geared towards the masses, her taste has to come down to those of the masses. It's not her fault she needs to show off. It is the fault of the masses. They buy into these things.' Should Niuniu feel sad for Huahua as an intellectual or for a society filled with shallow materialism? Or simply, is pretension the only way to gain popularity and respect? The next day, Beibei and Niuniu attend another event promoting a designer's brand, where they meet another 40-something, self-professed avant-garde woman, Lala. She sings blues at the party while making some quasi tai chi movements. Her bland voice is unimpressive, and her awkward body movements make her a clown on the stage. Unfortunately Lala is unaware of this. She smugly tells the younger girls that she enjoys hanging out with black people. She sounds as if she's the only Chinese woman who dares befriend them. She also makes it known to everybody that her husband doesn't understand Chinese, an overused trick to elevate one's status. Lala mentions Allen Ginsberg, The Catcher In The Rye and The Beatles, names she thinks can prove she is cool and rebellious. 'I can't believe we're in the 21st century and she's still parading her knowledge of the leftovers from the 1950s,' Beibei says quietly to Niuniu. 'Does she know even my grandma has an African friend from her tai chi class?' Niuniu adds. Beibei says: 'It seems even showing off is a bit of an art. The saddest thing about a braggart is when she doesn't know the stuff she's bragging about is already outdated.' 'I guess compared to Lala, you can say Huahua is cool. At least she can impress some of the proletarians who dream of a first-class life. The proletarians certainly don't need Lala. They already have too much noise in their lives,' Niuniu says.