In China, Pulled by Opposing Tides

"A cousin told me many of the young people in the village did not want to be farmers anymore, so they didn't oppose the sale of the land," Huang said. "Many who received money spent it on motorcycles."

At Chinese New Year, the village's population of 5,000 can grow to up to 10 times that number. Some traditions persevere: On Wednesday, a New Year's address from village officials will be carried to homes by loudspeaker. Officials will make their rounds delivering liquor and pastries to dozens of village elders.

Next week, the village square will fill with people selling paper and silk lanterns, plastic toys, cold rice noodles and sweet desserts. A sign above an outdoor stage, erected during the 1966-76 Cultural Revolution, declares that art and literature should be for the common people, not the bourgeoisie. But traditional opera performances are now supplemented by amplified pop music. For the first time, there will be a village-wide basketball tournament, to make the traditional holiday more relevant for younger residents.

For Huang, going home means visiting his village relatives whenever he returns to his parent's apartment in Xian. He has been trying to persuade a poor cousin to go out and find work.

"My plan this year is to add a few rooms to the house and then go out to look for a construction job," said the cousin, Huang Gang, 35, from the bed where he spends most of his time. "Can you tell me where I should go look for work?" he asked his more successful cousin.

Huang He, meanwhile, has difficult career decisions of his own. He has walked away from his Beijing job and plans to return to the United States in order to make more use of his valuable green card.

That's a prospect that worries his father, Huang Ruike, a music professor who has changed jobs only twice in his life. He can't quite understand how his amply educated son has switched jobs four times already.

"Many years ago, I was very proud of sending both my children out to the U.S. to study. Many of my friends were jealous. But now that feeling has faded," Huang Ruike said over a lunch of fish and scallops.

Turning to his son, he added, "The American education you and your sister received is no doubt very positive. But many of your peers who did not study overseas, they all seem to be better off. Many of them were not as outstanding as you were in school. But those who didn't leave got caught up in the fast-paced development of China. If you didn't choose to go out, you'd probably have a car, a house, a wife."

Those are crucial barometers of success to most Chinese families, as opposed to the abstract ideas that Huang has in mind: a dream career and job satisfaction. His father, after all, gave up conducting and composing for the stability of teaching.

Nevertheless, Huang's parents are proud of him and his sister. And this being a new year, they tell him so.

"When your sister used to say, before the 1990s, that she wanted to study in the U.S., I always said, 'Stop dreaming!' " Huang's mother, Wang Lianyun, chimed in. "But now look at her. She didn't stop dreaming, and it happened."