There was a time when money was money. A 10-yuan note was as good as 10 yuan in coins. After all, didn't people trade on a barter system in the old days? Didn't ancient civilisations use clam shells or other objects as a representation of real wealth, like chips at a casino? Lately, however, Niuniu has realised some forms of money may be better than others. Before Lunar New Year, Niuniu went to several banks in Beijing for the 10-yuan bills she would put into red lai see envelopes and distribute to friends and family. But to her surprise, every bank she visited told her they had run out of 10-yuan bills. Except for one, where the teller was nice enough to change some for her. But all she got were shabby notes, and some were even torn and repaired with Cellotape. Niuniu later complains to her friend Cici. 'Sure, it's all money,' she says. 'But you don't want to give smelly, old bills as gifts. You want to give out crisp, new bills.' Cici replies: 'I don't believe any of those banks really ran out of 10-yuan bills. That is just impossible. I think they didn't want to help you because they wouldn't get anything out of the transaction. And as for the teller who did give you bills, she must have collected all the bad ones just to give to customers who ask for an exchange.' Niuniu says: 'But why would the teller give me old bills if she had new ones? It's not like it's her money. What would it hurt her to give me new bills? The value is the same. Doesn't she understand that when you give cash as a gift, no one wants to give ratty, old torn-up bills?' Cici tells Niuniu that shop assistants always give her dirty, old bills when they give her change. 'The money left in the machine is not theirs, but they still don't want to give me clean bills,' she says. 'It's as if they were emotionally attached to these new bills. I guess it says a lot about the Chinese psyche.' Niuniu asks Cici if her gain is seen as their loss. 'Maybe it's more than that?' Cici says. 'Perhaps the concept of 'brand new' is very important.' Niuniu gets Cici's point right away. 'You mean a crisp bill is like a virgin that everyone wants, and torn ones are like seasoned prostitutes who can't escape from their past? But, isn't that rather Freudian?' she says. Cici says: 'We are talking about our national psyche here. I think the whole point is that people don't like things that are broken or used.' Niuniu says she didn't see many shabby, old bills when she was in the US and recalls the touch of a fresh stack of banknotes she got every time she went to Las Vegas. 'Maybe China should recycle its old bills more often,' Cici says. 'Or mint more coins.' Niuniu demurs. 'I don't know about that,' she says. 'I have no better luck with coins. Often, when I try to buy a newspaper with my one-yuan coin in China, the peddlers don't accept my money because, somehow, they think coins are not equal in value to paper money.' Cici says: 'So they don't like coins and they don't like old bills. I guess we'll have to use plastic money instead of cash.' Niuniu says: 'But you can't hand over your ATM or credit cards to friends as gifts.' The next day, Niuniu goes to the supermarket to buy ice cream. At the counter, she takes out her Visa Platinum card. 'Sorry, we don't take Visa,' the shop assistant says. Then, Niuniu takes out her gold MasterCard. The shop assistant shakes her head again. 'We only take Great Wall cards or ATM cards,' she says. Niuniu doesn't have a Great Wall credit card. She doesn't remember the password for her ATM card. So, she takes a new 10-yuan bill from her purse. Before she can give it to the shop assistant, however, the woman ahead of her in the queue stops her. 'Oh, you have such a nice clean bill there,' she says. 'Let's exchange.' After the woman has given Niuniu a soiled and torn 10-yuan note, she says: 'Now you can give this bill back to the store.' Niuniu smiles at her and does exactly as she says. When it comes to money, there's only one immutable fact: what goes around comes around.