by Qiu Xiaolong
She understood. He did not want to be seen in her company in case he was recognized by somebody else. She felt closer to him than ever. For it was his integrity that had tied him to the case, and tied her to him.
The music started. Yu pushed his way through to a table by the bar. He was going to buy a drink, she thought. But instead, he was making a gesture of invitation to a girl, who rose up with an air of indifference, pressing her tall body against him on the dance floor.
Yu was not a gifted dancer. That much Peiqin could see from her seat. He had attended a dancing seminar as part of the required professional curriculum, but he had never been eager to practice. The girl was almost as tall as Yu. She wore a black shift and black slippers, and danced languidly as if she had just emerged from her bedroom. In spite of his clumsiness, she fitted her body easily against his, whispering something to him, rubbing her breasts up against him. He nodded. And she began to snap her fingers and swing her hips.
“Wanton, shameless hussy,” Peiqin cursed under her breath. She did not blame Yu, who could not afford to rouse suspicion by remaining idle, but it was nonetheless unpleasant for her to watch.
On the bamboo stage, somebody switched the cassette tape. Through concealed speakers came wild jungle music-all drums and flutes-and more people flocked to the floor.
At the short break before the next number, Peiqin went to fetch a drink at the bar for herself. Yu was leaning over the table, talking to the tall girl, who smiled at him seductively, crossing her long legs, revealing a flash of her glaring white thighs.
Peiqin stood just a few steps away, staring at them. She was being childish, she knew, but she felt uncomfortable-unreasonably so.
Unexpectedly, a young man with brownish whiskers came to her out of nowhere. Bowing, muttering something like an invitation, he grabbed at her hand before she could say anything. In a nervous flurry, she followed him to the floor, moving with him, turning mechanically in time to the beat of the music, while trying to keep a distance between them.
Her partner was in his mid-twenties, tall, muscular, tanned, wearing a Polo shirt and a pair of Lee jeans, sporting a thick gold chain bracelet. Not bad looking or tough. Why would such a young man want to dance with a middle-aged woman? Peiqin was bewildered.
She could smell beer on his breath.
“It’s the first time for me,” she said. “I’ve never danced before.”
“Come, there’s nothing to it,” he said, his hand sliding down her waist. “Just keep moving. Let your body sway with the music.”
She stepped on his feet in confusion.
“You forgot to mention what to do with my feet,” she said apologetically.
“You’re doing fine for the first time,” he said patronizingly.
As he swung her around at an increasingly quick tempo, she began to relax. In one glimpse she had over his shoulder, she saw the tall girl wrapping her bare arms around Yu’s neck, like snakes.
“You’re a dancer.” The young man flashed a broad grin at her as the music came to a stop. “Just relax. You’re doing great.” He went to fetch some more drinks. She was relieved to see a girl approach him at the counter and pull at his gold bracelet.
Peiqin picked her way through the crowd back to her table, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, though it would not prevent her from seeing Yu in the company of another woman.
It was at that moment she saw Chief Inspector Chen arriving with an American couple.
All of a sudden, she pictured herself as if she were in a movie she had seen years ago-Daojin, the young heroine, walking under the cover of night, posting revolutionary slogans for Lu Jiachuan, a Communist she loved. A silent alley, dogs barking all around, and sirens sounding in the distance. On that night Daojin did not understand what she was doing; neither did Peiqin this night. But it was enough to know that she was doing it for her husband, and she was doing the right thing.
The American couple were also moving onto the floor. In spite of their age, they started to zigzag gracefully. Chen remained sitting at the table, alone, in the flickering yellowish light of the small candle.
He was so different from her husband-almost his opposite in every aspect. But they had become friends.
She began to walk over to him. She saw the surprise on Chen’s face, but he lost no time in standing up.
“Could I dance with you?” she said.
“I’m honored.“ He added in a whisper, “What has brought you here?”
“The tickets you gave Guangming. He’s here, too, but he wants me to speak to you.”
“But he should not have-” Chen paused before he spoke loudly, “You’re marvelous.”
She realized that it was meant for other ears. Smiling, she took Chen’s extended hand.
Chen was not as gifted as her first partner, but it was a two- step, sensually slow, and not difficult for either of them. She put what she had just learned into practice. Immediately she found it natural to follow the beat of the music.
“Yu wants me to tell you something,” she said in a low voice, her mouth nearly pressed against his ear. “He’s found a witness who saw Wu Xiaoming in Qingpu County on the night of the murder.”
“Qingpu County?”
“Yes, Qingpu County, about five miles from the crime scene, at a local gas station. Wu stopped there for gas. The car was a white Lexus, and the witness is a gas station attendant with a good knowledge of cars. He also has a copy of the gas ration coupon the driver used to get the gas at half-price. The coupon can be matched to a car registration.”
“That is incredible.”
“And something else-”
“You are so breathtaking tonight,” Chen said with an engaging smile, “absolutely breathtaking.”
“Thank you.” She blushed despite her knowledge that the compliment was not meant for her ears. Still, it was good to be complimented. Especially by a man who had complimented her behind her back. According to Yu, Chief Inspector Chen had more than once commented on his subordinate’s luck in the choice of his marriage partner.
Then she chided herself for thinking about such things. She was merely performing a task for her husband. Period. What possessed her, she wondered. She must be incorrigible-from having read The Dream of the Red Chamber so many times. She lowered her chin to conceal her blush. But she admitted to herself that the evening was enjoyable, finding herself more stimulated than she would have imagined by the touch of Chief Inspector Chen’s hand on her waist. Earlier there had also been some element of excitement when she moved in that young man’s arms.
“Yu has also interviewed Jiang Weihe and Ning Ying,” she said in a hurry.
“Ning Ying-who’s she?”
“Another woman involved with Wu Xiaoming. Jiang gave Ning Ying’s name to Yu.”
“Why?”
“Jiang did not know anything about the relationship between Guan and Wu. Ning was the one who was Wu’s girlfriend after Jiang, so Jiang believed that Ning might know something about Guan.”
“And did she?” He grinned broadly at a passing pair of dancers, who almost collided with them.
“Not much. But Ning met Guan at one of those parties in Wu’s home.”
“You’re dancing so wonderfully,” he said, looking over her shoulder, alertly.
“Thank you,” she said, blushing again.
They were moving to a fast tune. The incessant changing of lights made the scene surreal. She could sense Chen’s reluctance to hold her tight.
“And something more-”
“That’s a great step.”
“Oh,” she said, not sure what he was referring to. “What’s the next step?”
“Let me think-”
Conversation was difficult. Chen would switch topics whenever there were people near them. In the ballroom, dancers bumped against one another all the time. And she was not sure if Chen could hear her whisper amidst the blaring music.
Chen then introduced her to the elderly American gent
leman who had come in with Chen.
“You are beautiful,” the American said in Chinese.
“Thank you,” she said in English.
She had been learning English at a night school, off and on, for several years. It was mainly for her son’s benefit. She did not want to be ignorant of Qinqin’s homework. She was pleased with her ability to exchange some simple sentences with her American partner.
Chief Inspector Chen also danced with someone else.
She understood that all this was necessary. It was for Yu. And for herself.
When she went back to her table, her soft drink was no longer cold. She shook her head slightly in Yu’s direction. Could he see the gesture, or catch its meaning, she wondered, brushing strands of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand.
A Dai girl appeared on the stage, announcing that it was time for the sing-along, or karaoke.
Several people were moving a TV onto the stage. The big screen showed young Dai lovers frolicking in a river, singing, with a caption beneath the picture.
Peiqin was at a loss. She had no idea how she could manage to pass her remaining information to Chief Inspector Chen. She observed that a waitress was talking to him. He was listening attentively, and then he exchanged a few words with the American couple. They both nodded. To her surprise, Mr. Rosenthal came over to her table, followed by Chen, who interpreted for him.
“Would you like to sing karaoke with us in a private room?”
“What?”
“Professor Rosenthal thinks we need a partner for karaoke,” Chen said. “He also says you can speak English beautifully.”
“No, I have never been to a karaoke party, and I can only say a couple of the simplest sentences in English,” she replied.
“Don’t worry,” Chen said. “I’ll interpret for you. And we can talk among ourselves in the private room.”
“Oh, I see.”
Earlier she had noticed several bamboo huts at one side of the hall. She had thought that they were Dai-style decorations. They turned out to be “private rooms.”
The one they went into was luxuriously carpeted, with a TV and VCR system set in the wall, two microphones on a table by the leather sofas, and a basket of fruit on the table.
Outside, people could select their songs on the big TV by paying a fee, but with so many people, a long wait was to be expected. There was also a lot of background noise.
“It must be very expensive, the private room and the service,”
Peiqin said. “Do you have to pay for it?”
“Yes, it’s expensive,” Chen said, “but it’s a delegation activity, a government expense.”
“It’s the first time for us,” Mr. Rosenthal said. “Karaoke is popular in Japan, we’ve heard, and it seems to be so popular here, too.”
“Something to do with our culture,” Chen said. “We would think it too assertive to sing in front of other people without some music in the background.”
“Or maybe we do not sing too well,” Peiqin said, waiting for Chen to interpret, “but with the background music, it does not matter that much.”
“Yes, I like that better-because I do not sing like a lark,” Mrs. Rosenthal said.
A waitress brought them a menu of songs in both English and Chinese, and underneath each of its name a number was indicated. All they had to do was push the number on a remote control. Chen chose several songs for the Rosenthals to sing in duet.
As Peiqin and Chen bent over the song menu, pretending to discuss their choices, she was finally able to pass to Chen a copy of the gas coupon and the tapes of Yu’s interviews with Yang Shuhui, the gas station attendant, as well as with Jiang and Ning.
Chen listened carefully to the end of her account, jotted something on a napkin, and said, “Ask Yu not to make any move during the conference. I’ll take care of the case as soon as I finish this assignment.”
“Yu wants you to be very cautious.”
“I will,” Chen said. “Don’t disclose the information to anybody. Not even to Party Secretary Li.”
“Anything else I can do in the meantime? Old Hunter also wants to do his part. The old man has gotten a temporary assignment- traffic control, so he is patrolling streets instead of markets.”
“No, don’t you do anything, neither you nor Old Hunter. It’s too. .. dangerous,” Chen said. “Besides, you’ve already done so much. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”
“No, you don’t have to,” she said.
“Well, Lu will probably come to your place a lot as a gourmet customer for the noodles in your restaurant.”
“We’ve got many regular customers. I know how to treat someone like him.”
Their talk came to an abrupt end again. Mr. Rosenthal was looking at his watch. Chen said that the Americans were fully scheduled for the following day.
So they emerged from the private room.
People were leaving the large hall. Yu had left, too. Maybe it was the hour. Maybe it was not too pleasant for him to watch his wife being so popular with other men-including his boss and the elderly American.
She bid good-bye to Chief Inspector Chen and the Rosenthals.
It had been a wonderful night for her. If there was one thing she had missed, it was that Yu had not danced and sung with her. A short man also rose from a table near the entrance, following Chen and his companions out of the hall. She might have been too suspicious, but she made sure that she was not followed before she started to look for Yu outside.
The summer night breeze was pleasant. Yu was waiting for her under a blossoming dogwood tree, still wearing his glasses and smoking a cigarette. There was a black car beside him. To her surprise, she saw Shi Qong waving to her from the car. One of their colleagues in the Yunnan years, Shi had worked as a driver at a petrochemical company since coming back to Shanghai.
It was not the only car waiting along the curb. Nor was it a luxurious one. It was a Dazhong, a product of a Shanghai and Volkswagen joint venture. It was enough, however, that a car was waiting for them. A perfect finishing touch to the night. Yu had been thoughtful to make the arrangement-so romantic.
There could be nothing more repulsive than having to squeeze into a bus-especially on such a summer night-in her borrowed dress.
The tall girl also came out, smiling at Yu with renewed interest, but she strutted away at the sight of Yu holding the door for Peiqin.
“Have you had a wonderful evening?” Shi asked.
“Yes. Thank you for your car.”
“You’re most welcome,” Shi said. “Your husband says you’ve been so popular tonight. He had no choice but to wait for you outside.”
“No, he just wants to smoke outside.” She smiled.
On their way home, Yu did not mention the case at all. Nor did she. They talked about the songs they had sung tonight- though not together. They had to be discreet in the presence of others. She was learning fast.
Instead, she played her right hand lightly over the front of Yu’s white shirt, a shirt he himself had carefully ironed for the party. Then she tilted her head to one side in a mock-serious assessment.
“Not too bad,” she said, pouting her lips provocatively.
All she needed was the feeling of Yu holding her hand tightly in the backseat.
Chapter 33
Monday was Chief Inspector Chen’s first day back in his office.
Nominally, Chen was still head of the special case squad. Most of his colleagues greeted him cordially, but he sensed a subtle change in the office. No one mentioned the case to him, nothing but empty, polite talk. People must have heard about the twists and turns of the investigation.
Commissar Zhang, who was not in the office, was said to be on vacation, but how long or why, no one could tell him.
Detective Yu was away on a temporary assignment-temporarily suspended-just like him.
Presently Party Secretary Li telephoned. “Comrade Chief Inspector, welcome back to the bureau. You have done an ex
cellent job. The American guests have just sent us a fax expressing their thanks, especially for your hard work. They have a very high opinion of you.”
“Thank you for telling me this.”
But the Americans’ praise could easily be interpreted as another indication of his affiliation with Western bourgeois culture.
“Take a break,” Li said. “We’ll talk about your work in a couple of days, okay?”
The Party Secretary’s voice sounded smooth, but his words merely confirmed Chen’s suspicion.
“Fine,” he said, “but I’ve been away for several days already.”
“Don’t work too much, young man. We are actually thinking about a vacation for you.”
“I don’t need a vacation, Party Secretary Li. I’ve had enough of sightseeing and opera-watching.”
“Don’t worry, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. I’ll talk to you next week.”
It was nothing new-the always-politically-correct Party Secretary discourse. The case had not been mentioned. There was no point in discussing it on the phone, they both understood only too well.
There was nothing he could do now in the Guan investigation, and nothing else he could really bring himself to focus on. There was some routine political paperwork on his desk, accumulated during his absence. Signing his name to the Party documents he was supposed to read was increasingly vexatious. Once more, his temples started drumming. He pulled out the drawer and found an aspirin bottle. Tapping two pills into his palm, he gulped them down. He looked out of his cubicle. Most of his colleagues had left for lunch. After locking the door, he took out the cassette of Yu’s interview with Jiang. He listened to the cassette from the beginning once more.
If Jiang had discovered those pictures, so could somebody else-Guan. Jiang’s reaction was that of an avant-garde artist, but what about Guan? Guan wanted Wu all for herself.
What would Guan have done?
After looking at his watch, Chen went down to the canteen, which would close in half an hour. He bought a small portion of noodles with a soy-sauce-braised steak. The canteen was crowded, but still he had a table for himself. People were distancing themselves from him, he realized. No one wanted to share his table. And he did not blame them. It was just politics.
