I hate being a nurse. Every morning, for the last five months, I’ve been going to work dragging my feet. I’m not allowed to leave the hospital grounds during the day, I earn a pittance - 1,300 yuan a month - it’s monotonous, miserable and boring. The only thing I’m proud of is the way I get on with the patients. I should say, with some patients, because in some cases the more respect there is for the doctor, the more the nurse finds herself being insulted, for no reason. It has to be said that the International Hospital at Chengdu isn’t a hospital like other hospitals. It’s only for senior civil servants and foreigners. Ordinary people aren’t treated here. Look, it’s even written over the entrance in huge gold letters ‘Hospital for VIP cardholders’. Basically you buy a card which costs 3,800 yuan a year and which guarantees entry for twenty years for three members of a single family, which doesn’t include the cost of treatment. It’s like a private club.

The hospital has recently been renovated and expanded to include a hundred new beds. The patient is treated like royalty, in a private room with an ensuite bathroom, and a small sitting area with, of course, a huge television set….for the trivial sum of 680 yuan a night! In a few months, we’ve gone from three to five stars! Yes, it’s lovely and spacious but I would give anything to get away from here…

I must admit I never wanted to become a nurse. When I was sixteen my parents said to me ‘Daughter, you must work in a profession that is honourable and that has status if you wish one day to find a husband. In Chinese tradition, men prefer women to be doctors, teachers or to work in a bank. So we have decided to send you to nursing school. That way, in two or three years, you will be earning a living and will be able to attract a man…’ I was absolutely stunned. We were in the living room of our little apartment in Chengdu; it was the first serious conversation of my life. And here were my parents taking my future hostage, in the name of tradition. When I dreamed of studying fashion!

I wept. The conversation became heated. Finally I heard  them say that they wouldn’t finance my studies if I refused. I didn’t have a choice. I was trapped: in China, whatever one really thinks, one respects one’s parents' wishes. It is impossible to say no. Unthinkable. Of course I wanted to! But I love and respect them. The verb xiaoshun describes very well the feeling that children have for their parents. It encompasses respect, love and the duty one has towards them, particularly financially. Many young Chinese xiaoshun their parents.

My father works at the Grain Office, my mother is a pharmacist; both of them lived as peasants near Chengdu during the Cultural Revolution. They are very conservative and old-fashioned. Life hasn’t been easy for them. If I had been a  boy I’m sure things would have been different. But a girl who isn’t particularly academic, who has a rebellious spirit and crazy dreams… As far as they were concerned this was the only possible solution. I have lots of girlfriends in the same situation. One of my colleagues at the hospital, who speaks excellent English, wanted to become an interpreter. Her parents categorically rejected that idea as well. It’s depressing. I told her to do what I’m doing, to put money aside so that one day she might be able to realise her dreams.

As for me, I decided it was time to act. To take control of my future. I’ve already worked out the finances: I need 100,000 yuan to open a cosmetic and accessories boutique. Chengdu girls are pretty and they know it – they like to seduce. Which means there is definitely a market! In two years’ time I’m going to go for it. As for my parents, I’m going to present them with a fait accompli. Even though I respect them, you can’t spend your entire life obeying the older generation. Will they be disappointed? I’m sure they will, but that’s a risk I’m prepared to take…