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马上 (mǎ shàng) from a friend is fifteen to thirty minutes — many people send it before leaving the house — but about five from a waiter standing in front of you. The rule underneath is how far away the speaker is. 一会儿 (yī huìr) runs from ten minutes to a whole afternoon, 等一下 (děng yī xià) is the honest one, and 快了 (kuài le) usually means it has not started.; The most useful sentence in the episode: 你现在到哪儿了 (nǐ xiàn zài dào nǎr le) — where are you right now. Nobody can check a time, and nobody has the nerve to invent a place name. Ask for a time and you get a wish; ask for a place and you get a fact you can convert into minutes. Still at home means half an hour. Downstairs means a real 马上.; No date, no plan. 改天 (gǎi tiān), 有空 (yǒu kòng), 下次 and 找个时间 sound like invitations and none of them are — they are the Chinese we should get together sometime, warmly meant and non-binding. The test is whether a date was said out loud. To convert one: 那我们定个时间吧. In China the person who sets the time is 靠谱 (kào pǔ), reliable.
Leo, don't sit down yet.
What's wrong?
I want to read you a few messages.
Whose messages?
Yours.
Mine?
Tuesday before last, twelve minutes past three in the afternoon, you sent three words. On my way.
And then?
You walked through that door at three forty-one.
There was some traffic that day.
Last Thursday I asked whether that thing was ready, and you said you'd send it in a bit.
I remember sending it.
You sent it on Sunday night.
Okay, that was a little slow.
One more. June the tenth, you said you'd take me out to eat some other day.
What's wrong with that one?
Today is the twenty-first of August.
So you're settling scores with me.
I'm not settling scores. I'm showing you something.
Showing me what?
When you said those three things, you thought you were giving me a time.
Wasn't I?
No. There isn't one exact time in any of them.
Mashang, yihuir, gaitian.
Right. Chinese people say those three dozens of times a day.
But I was copying the way Chinese people talk.
You learn fast. The problem is you only learned half of it.
Which half?
You learned how to say it. You never learned how to hear it.
Hear what?
How long someone actually means when they say mashang.
You can hear that?
You can. It's the most useful skill there is for living in China.
More useful than reading characters?
Getting a character wrong is a joke. Getting a time wrong offends people.
Let me give you the big frame first.
Go ahead.
China runs on two kinds of time.
Two kinds?
One hard, one soft.
What's the hard one?
High-speed trains, flights, exams, clocking in at work, meetings. Those times are hard as stone.
That one I know. The train really does leave without you.
One minute late and it's gone. Inside that system, Chinese people are more punctual than a lot of countries.
And the soft one?
Meals, seeing friends, someone saying they'll drop something off, someone saying they'll sort something out for you.
Those really are soft.
Soft as dough. You can push it into any shape you like.
I always thought Chinese people were casual about time.
Not casual. It depends on the situation.
So my problem is that I mixed the two up.
You're too loose where it's hard, and too tight where it's soft.
What does too tight mean?
A friend says dinner at six, and you're standing at the door at six on the dot. That's too tight.
Aren't you supposed to be on time?
You are. But first you have to know what that six o'clock actually means.
Let's start with the word you hear most.
Mashang.
How long do you think mashang is?
Taken literally the horse is already running, so it should be fast.
Mashang means I have already started, inside my head.
Started in your head.
Right. Not necessarily with your body.
So how many minutes is it?
It depends on who's saying it.
Can you give me a rough number?
When a friend says mashang dao, it's usually fifteen to thirty minutes.
That long?
Because a lot of people send that message before they've left the house.
Not on the way?
Still looking for their keys.
So the twenty-nine minutes I waited last time was normal.
Completely normal. You should think he was rather quick.
What about when a waiter says mashang?
That one is much shorter. Around five minutes.
Why the difference?
Because he's standing right in front of you. He doesn't dare stretch it.
I get it. It depends on how far away the person is.
Remember that sentence. It's worth more than a dictionary.
Next word. Yihuir.
Yihuir is longer than mashang, and blurrier than mashang.
How long?
Ten minutes at the short end, a whole afternoon at the long end.
A whole afternoon still counts as yihuir?
If it's something he doesn't want to do, it can stretch a long way.
So how do I tell them apart?
Listen for whether an action follows it.
What do you mean?
Yihuir I'll call you — that one is real. Yihuir let's talk about it later — that one means no.
So yihuir zai shuo ba means it isn't happening.
A lot of the time, yes.
What about dengyixia?
Dengyixia is the most honest one of the group.
Really just a moment?
Really just a moment. Usually a few dozen seconds to two or three minutes.
Because the person saying it is standing right there.
Exactly. You've got it.
There's one more word that scares me. Kuaile.
Kuaile is the dangerous one.
Why?
Because when someone says kuaile, the thing often hasn't started.
Hasn't started?
At the very least it isn't half done. Someone who's half done says chabuduo le.
How much is chabuduo le?
Seventy or eighty percent.
And what percent is kuaile?
Twenty percent. Possibly zero.
That word is terrifying.
So when you hear kuaile, you ask one more question.
Ask what?
This is the most useful sentence I'm going to teach you today.
Go on.
Where are you right now?
That's it?
That's it.
Why is that one so powerful?
Because nobody has the nerve to invent a place name.
You can say any time you like, but not any place.
Nobody can check a time. But he knows exactly where he is.
And once I've heard the place?
You do the maths yourself. He says he's still at home, so you know it's at least half an hour.
He says he's downstairs, so that's a real mashang.
Right. You've traded a blurry word for something you can actually count.
I can use that today.
There's a politer version. Where are you, I'll come and meet you.
That sounds like you're looking after him.
And he has to answer you.
Now the second group of words. These fool you even more easily than the first.
Gaitian.
Gaitian, youkong, xiaci, zhao ge shijian.
I hear those every single day.
Those words look like an invitation. They aren't one.
Then what are they?
They're a nice thing to say.
Like the English one, we should get together sometime.
Exactly the same. The person means it, but it isn't a plan.
So how do I tell the real ones?
Look for a date.
That simple?
That simple. Without a date it isn't a plan.
Dinner some other day. No date. Doesn't count.
Let's have lunch together on Saturday. There's a date. That counts.
Then what about all the gaitians I've already agreed to?
Nobody is waiting on them, and you don't owe anybody anything.
But there are people I genuinely do want to eat with.
Then you have to learn how to turn the fake one into a real one.
Turn it how?
Add one line on the spot. Then let's set a time.
Set it right there?
Right there. Are you free this Saturday, or how about Wednesday evening next week.
Isn't that a bit pushy?
Not at all. In China, the person who sets the time is the reliable one.
Kaopu.
That's high praise. Calling someone kaopu is better than calling them clever.
And what if they start dodging?
Then you have your answer.
That's an answer too.
Let's run through how to arrange a time. You'll use all of this every day.
Okay.
First, how to ask.
Jidian?
Too short. It comes out a little blunt.
So what should I say?
Women jidian jian, or ni jidian fangbian.
Ni jidian fangbian. That one is useful.
Now the answer. Chinese people name the part of the day first.
Morning, midday, afternoon, evening.
Right. That first, then the hour.
Three in the afternoon.
If you aren't certain, add two characters on the end.
Which two?
Zuoyou.
Around three.
San dian zuoyou, dagai san dian, san dian duo. Those are all soft.
San dian zheng is the hard one.
Right. If you want the other person on time, say san dian zheng.
Are there other hard ways to say it?
Bujianbusan.
I've heard that one on television.
You hear it less now, but the meaning is clear. I will wait until you get here.
And how do I change the time?
Moving it earlier is tiqian. Moving it later is tuichi.
Move it up to two, push it back to four.
Moving the whole thing to another day is gaiqi. Not going at all is quxiao.
There are two words I can never keep apart. Zhunshi and anshi.
Zhunshi is that exact moment. Anshi is according to the rules.
Can you give me an example?
Zhunshi dao. Anshi chi yao.
Anshi sounds like somebody is keeping an eye on you.
That's exactly right.
Now let's talk about being late.
This is the part I need most.
A principle first. Being late isn't the biggest problem.
Then what is?
Leaving someone sitting there with no idea where you are. That's the problem.
So you tell them early.
Ten minutes of warning beats half an hour of explaining afterwards.
How early should I say it?
The second you realise you're going to be late, say it.
But I don't know how late I'll be.
Then give a rough number. I might be fifteen minutes late, the traffic is bad.
Do I have to give a reason?
Give one. It doesn't need to be detailed.
What's the reason Chinese people use most?
Traffic.
Seriously?
Whether it's true doesn't matter. Traffic is a way out that everyone accepts.
A way out.
It gives you a way out, and it gives the other person one too.
Can I say I overslept?
You can, but only to a close friend.
Why?
Because it sounds like the whole thing wasn't on your mind.
I understand. What do I say once I get there?
One line. Rang ni jiu deng le.
Rang ni jiu deng le.
Those few words work far better than a long speech.
What does the other person usually say?
It's fine, it's fine, I only just got here myself.
Did he really only just get there?
He may well have been waiting twenty minutes.
Then why does he say that?
Because he's giving you a way out.
So I shouldn't actually believe that he just got there.
You make a note of it, and next time you leave earlier.
Now the most practical part. How late you're allowed to be in each situation.
Go ahead.
Group one. Not one minute late.
Trains and flights.
Plus exams, job interviews, hospital appointments, clocking in at work.
Interviews too.
For an interview you arrive fifteen minutes early. That's the rule.
And meetings?
Be in the meeting room five minutes early.
Isn't arriving right on the hour enough?
Right on the hour already counts as late, because everyone is waiting for you to sit down.
I've been getting this one wrong the whole time.
Group two. A formal meal where somebody is hosting.
What time do I arrive?
If it says half past six, it means half past six. Five minutes early is best.
Why is a formal meal so strict?
Because there's a host, and there may be older relatives there.
Understood. And group three?
A casual meal among friends. Ten minutes late is perfectly normal.
Is fifteen minutes all right too?
It is, but you have to send a message.
That message again.
One message solves ninety percent of the problem.
What about weddings? I went to one last month and the invitation said nine.
And you got there at nine?
I got there at ten to nine.
Then you waited a long time.
It didn't start until nearly eleven.
Because that nine isn't the time you're being asked to arrive.
Then what time is it?
It's a lucky hour that was chosen for the event itself.
So the number itself matters.
Jiu, nine, sounds the same as the jiu in changjiu, which means lasting.
So that's what it was. What time should I arrive?
It says nine, you arrive at ten, and that's right on the mark.
If nobody tells you this, you'll never work it out.
There's one last one, and it runs completely the other way.
What is it?
When you go to somebody's home, don't arrive early.
Why? Isn't arriving early more polite?
The host may still be tidying up, still cooking.
So arriving early just makes trouble for them.
They say six, you come at six, or five minutes after. That's the comfortable one.
But I've noticed that a lot of Chinese people love being early.
That's the other side of it.
At the airport I see people turning up four hours ahead.
It's much stronger in the older generation.
Why?
Because they lived through a great deal of uncertainty.
Such as?
Tickets sold out. Buses breaking down. Roads closing.
So being early is a kind of safety.
Better that I wait for it than that it doesn't wait for me.
That's a beautiful line.
Those are my grandfather's exact words.
Is your grandfather like that too?
He's eighty-two, and every time he comes to my shop he's forty minutes early.
Forty minutes?
He sits at the table in the far corner with a newspaper.
Didn't you find that strange?
As a child I did. I even told him off. Why do you come this early.
What did he say?
He didn't answer. He just smiled.
And then?
Then one time I was the one who turned up twenty minutes late.
You were late?
Something happened at the shop and I couldn't get away.
How long did he wait?
He sat there for a full hour.
Was he angry?
Not in the slightest. He said, I brought my newspaper.
He sounds lovely.
That day I walked him to the corner, and I asked him why he always comes so early.
What did he say?
He said, when I was young I made somebody wait once.
And then?
That person never came again.
He's carried it ever since.
He said he doesn't have much left to give people now.
But he has time.
He said, time is the thing I have left.
So that's the thing he gives you.
Yes. From that day on I saw the whole thing differently.
Differently how?
Being on time is a rule. Being early is a feeling.
Being on time is a rule. Being early is a feeling.
The hardest part of being late isn't that you're late.
Then what is it?
It's that what you're spending is somebody else's time, not your own.
That one lands hard.
Which is why I'm rarely late these days.
That was a lot today. Could you sort it out for me?
I'll give you seven of them.
Okay.
One. China runs on two kinds of time. The hard one is harder than you think, the soft one is softer.
And the second?
Two. Mashang is fifteen to thirty minutes, and it depends on how far away the person is.
Three.
Three. When you hear kuaile, ask one more question, because it often hasn't started.
Four.
Four. The most useful sentence there is, where are you right now.
Five.
Five. A plan without a date isn't a plan, so if you want one, set it on the spot.
Six.
Six. If you're going to be late, say it early, and say rang ni jiu deng le when you arrive.
The last one.
Seven. Don't be early to somebody's home, and don't be late to a formal meal.
I've written all seven down.
Xiao Yue, so, let me take you out to eat some other day.
Stop.
What?
There you go again.
This time I mean it.
I know you mean it. But there's no date in that sentence.
Then let me redo it.
Go ahead.
Wednesday evening next week at seven, after your shop closes, dinner is on me.
And the place?
That noodle shop you said you wanted to try.
That works. I've written it down.
That counts as a plan, doesn't it.
It counts.
I've been in China a year and a half, and I think that's the first time I've turned a gaitian into an actual date.
Then you have to get there early.
How early?
You decide.
Forty minutes early.
Will you bring a newspaper?
I'll bring one.
Adapted from a Simply Natural Chinese YouTube episode into a complete three-line website reading. This is not a word-for-word transcript.
The reading may differ from the original video or audio.
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