Qiu Xiaolong - Shanghai Redemption

“You’re a really experienced cop, but you can’t be too cautious.” That’s what Chen had said at the end of their conversation in the teahouse.

Experienced or not, Old Hunter would have to come up with an excuse to approach Tang, the cop from the Sex Crimes Squad. He was pretty sure he’d have no problem. Before retirement, Old Hunter had rarely worked with Tang, but there was still a common bond between the two. Despite their good, hard work, somehow both of them remained at the bottom of the ladder.

After several wrong turns, Old Hunter succeeded in spotting Jufeng Road, and from there, the sign for Carrefour Supermarket told him that Tang’s home was close. Old Hunter pulled out his phone.

“Hi, Tang, it’s Old Hunter.”

“Oh, such a surprise! What favorable wind has brought you over to Pudong today?”

“I’m on an errand here for my part-time job. I just walked out of the subway, got lost-guess what-and I’m now near the Carrefour. You once told me that your home was close to the supermarket, and fortunately, I have your number stored in my phone. What about joining me for a cup of tea?”

“You’re still thinking of me, Old Hunter. I’m flattered. Stay in front of the supermarket and I’ll come find you. There’s a neighborhood recreation center just about a block away, and we can get tea there.”

Tang appeared in less than five minutes. He was a gaunt man in his midfifties, with his hair streaked white and with a slight suggestion of shuffle in his steps. Tang was pleased by the unannounced visit.

Instead of the neighborhood center Tang had suggested, Old Hunter dragged him to a street eatery about a stone’s throw from the supermarket.

“This is still a developing area,” Tang said. “It’s too far away from Lujiazui, the center of Pudong, and there aren’t many decent restaurants here. Still, it’s much better than when we first moved here.”

“That was when the state housing assignment was still in effect, right?”

“That’s right-so the apartments here can’t compare to the new ones people are buying, but I still count myself lucky. We couldn’t afford an apartment in today’s market, and with the new subway, this area may see some improvement soon.” Tang said. Then he added shamefacedly, “To tell the truth, my place is overcrowded, now that my daughter has just moved back in with her crying baby. That’s why I didn’t invite you home.”

“You don’t have to feel alone in that, Tang. I’m still living in one room at that old shikumen house, with my old wife bedridden. My two daughters and their children are all squeezed together in the same wing.”

“But this street stand is run by provincial sisters and is nothing more than a coal stove with benches and tables. I don’t think-”

“But it’s inexpensive, and it’s my treat.”

On the recommendation of a “provincial sister” waitress, Old Hunter ordered a small tableful of food-red-pepper-oil-immersed catfish in an earthen pot, fried frog legs with tender green beans, steamed stinking tofu on top of wild mushrooms, grilled lamb cubes, and cold shepherd’s purse blossoms mixed with dried shrimp and new sesame oil.

The waitress, who spoke with a strong Anhui accent, trotted back and forth from the wok, carrying steaming hot dishes stacked on her right arm and two bottles of Qingdao beer in her other hand.

“People have been talking about toxic food, polluted water, gutter oil, and whatnot. The country is really going to the dogs. But I’m in my seventies, already a man of longevity in Confucius’s time,” Old Hunter said, putting a piece of hot stinking tofu in the hot sauce for himself and tearing up a large piece of fish meat for Tang. “And you’re almost in your sixties, too. So why worry?”

Old Hunter had assumed the role that had earned him his second nickname, Suzhou Opera Singer. Suzhou opera was known for frequent digressions, sometimes with false surprises or suspense at the end of an episode to lure the audience back for the next. There was a reason, however, that he had adopted that style. It helped with his police work. In interviews, people wouldn’t easily guess what he was really pushing for, and, as a result, they frequently came out with what he needed.

“You have ordered too much food. It’ll be a waste if we can’t finish everything.”

“If we don’t finish it all, we can box the rest. Your home is just around the corner, isn’t it? At the agency I’m working for, they have some quite lucrative cases. What I’m being paid for today’s errand, more than covers our lunch.”

“That’s quite a lot.”

“At my agency job, in two weeks-working only two days a week-I make more than my pension.”

“Wow, tell me more about this line of work. I’m retiring next year, and with my son laid off, unable to take care of himself, and my daughter divorced and squeezed back with us, I need to find a job like yours.”

“Believe it or not, I landed the job because of Chief Inspector Chen.”

“How?” Tang asked with the cup suspended in the air.

“Chen is a good man. I was once made a special consultant to the traffic control office because of him, remember?” Old Hunter said. He was watching for a change in Tang’s expression, but he didn’t see any.

“Yes, Chen served as the acting director of that office for a short while,” Tang responded, his tongue not beer-loosened yet.

“Zhang Zhang was working there as a clerk then. About two years ago, he left and started the PI agency. It really is a niche market-take today’s job, for example. A rich woman wants us to find evidence against her cheating husband, and she offers to pay twenty thousand yuan-all in cash. What I need to do is to get pictures of her husband in a notorious foot-washing salon-in the company of a half-naked girl.”

“That’s not bad-I mean the pay,” Tang said, helping himself to a spoonful of the green shepherd’s purse blossoms mixed with dried shrimp.

“From time to time, we also have to go to one of those fancier nightclubs. There are so many Big Bucks and high officials there, as your squad knows only too well. Oh, I just heard a new Q and A joke. In today’s China, who is the most formidable force in exposing corrupt officials? Their wives and ernai! It’s so true. Of course, it’s because they are desperate and capable of doing anything. That’s why it’s such a profitable market for us. Just the other day I went to a notorious nightclub on Wuning Road. You must know it. It’s called… damn it, my old memory really sucks. What’s the name of it?”

This story was not entirely fiction, improvised for Tang’s benefit. Old Hunter, in his work as a PI, had visited some of those nightclubs, though not the one on Wuning Road.

“Those notorious nightclubs,” Tang said, echoing Old Hunter’s phrase, his face slightly flushed from the beer. “You’re right about that. My job takes me to those places frequently. But there’s one difference. At your agency, you don’t have to worry about politics. Not so for us.”

Tang didn’t go on, staring instead into the empty cup before him. Old Hunter signaled the waitress to bring over two more Qingdao, and said, “Anything can be political in today’s China. It’s really too much for me. There are so many unheard of or unimaginable practices going on in those places. I feel so ancient.”

“The government wants to give the appearance that we’re fighting against corruption,” Tang said, jumping back into the conversation with growing enthusiasm. “So the squad puts on the occasional show. But we have to move carefully. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Really?”

“I was almost kicked off the squad for asking about a possible connection between a nightclub and someone in the city government. Party Secretary Li flew into a rage. I would have been fired on the spot, had all the squad members not begged him for my sake. As a man getting close to retirement, do I have any choice?”