Qiu Xiaolong - Enigma of China

He kept walking, absentmindedly, until he found himself at Yunnan Road, a street he’d known well back in the days when he still lived with his mother. It was a street known for its ramshackle eateries with a variety of cheap, delicious specialties. Smelling the familiar scents, he thought it would be a good idea to buy some cooked food for his mother.

Nowadays, it was called a “gourmet street,” with a number of new, tall buildings and splendid restaurants in place of the old shacks. He walked over to Shenjiamen, a recently opened restaurant that sported an impressive array of basins near the entrance, plastic and wooden containers of various colors and sizes and shapes, each containing sea and river delicacies. He came to a stop at the sight of crowding squid, squirting clams, squirming trout, jumping frogs, and crawling crabs, as if they were still scuttling along the silent floors of rivers and oceans. A snakelike hose dipped in and out of the basins, pumping air into them in a bubbling appearance of life. There were several people lingering, likely or unlikely customers, squatting or standing around. A young mother looked down at the little boy tugging at her hand, her face radiant under the neon light that flashed: Private Room, Elegant Seat.

His phone rang and interrupted his reverie. It was Jiang of the city government.

“Fang has disappeared, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Fang?”

“Zhou’s secretary. Nobody knows where she is. Not even her parents.”

“I’ve not met or interviewed her. Detective Wei told me that you didn’t see her as a potential suspect.”

“Not a suspect in Zhou’s death, no, but she might have been privy to his corruption. We talked to her quite a few times, and she denied any knowledge of his criminal activities.”

“She’s just a secretary. On the list of people privy to Zhou’s problems, she might not be at the top.”

“She wasn’t just a secretary-she was a little secretary, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

“I didn’t know, Jiang,” Chen said, though he recalled both Wei and Zhou’s colleague Dang using the term. He ignored Jiang’s sarcastic tone. Trying to find out more, Chen said, “In fact, you didn’t tell me anything about her.”

“It was Zhou who brought her into the office. She studied in England a couple of years ago, and she still has a valid passport, as well as a valid visa that would allow her to travel to England and Europe. We have to prevent her from slipping out of the country. I’ve already informed customs and provided them with her picture.”

“I see.” But something didn’t add up. She might know something about the details of Zhou’s shady schemes, but that wouldn’t be a “state secret.” It was certainly nothing for Jiang to panic over.

“You have to find her as soon as possible, Chief Inspector Chen. I’ve discussed it with your Party Secretary Li, and you’re the one with experience in searching for a missing person.”

“Please fax or e-mail me all the information you have about her immediately. Send the photos you have of her as well. At the same time, inform Liao of the homicide squad that I’ll do my best,” Chen added before hanging up.

This was another twist, although Chen didn’t see anything particularly surprising about Fang’s disappearance. Jiang had, by his own admission, talked to her quite a few times, undoubtedly bringing a lot of pressure to bear on the secretary-or little secretary -so much so that it was very possible that she couldn’t take it anymore and ran away. An understandable reaction on her part, and she might come back before the police even started looking for her. It was very apparent that Jiang wasn’t telling him everything. Why would Jiang have bothered notifying customs?

He decided not to visit his mother right now. Instead, he stepped into a small Internet café across the street. Like in the one near the concert hall in Pudong, it had a plastic sign marked Registration on the front desk. This time, he produced his ID without being asked.

Perching on the chair in front of his assigned computer, he had a free cup of tea, which tasted like it had been rebrewed, and then started looking through his e-mail. The first batch of material had already come in from Jiang, including several photos. The photos were of Fang when she was still in her twenties. They showed a handsome, spirited girl, and there was nothing that suggested she was or would become a little secretary . He glanced through some of the background information, but there was nothing really new or useful, either. It might take him hours to sort through everything.

His cell phone rang. Caller ID showed that it was Lianping, so he picked up. After exchanging greetings, Chen asked, “What’s up?”

“I’m going to the Shaoxing Literature Festival tomorrow.”

“That’s nice-have you ever been there?”

“No, this will be my first time. It’s only one hour outside of Shanghai, and the sponsor is providing me a ‘journalist’s package.’ It includes a ticket to tour Lu Xun’s residence, meal coupons, and if I stay over, accommodations at a four-star hotel.”

“What a nice package!”

“I mentioned your name to the sponsor and they would love to invite you to come and speak. Everything would be covered, and it would also include a handsome speaker’s fee.”

“Thank you, Lianping. I might not have the time to attend the festival or to give a speech, but I’ll think about it.”

“Please do. If you decide you can come, I’ll put you in touch with the organizers. I’ll be there, you know.”

After hanging up, he thought about it. For a brief moment, he felt drawn to the city of Shaoxing, if only for the chance to take a short vacation there. Oh, a “vacation” is the draw, is it? he joked with himself-surely not the one who invited you? He tried to mock himself out of thinking about a possibly romantic vacation. Shaoxing was a city with a long cultural history, he reflected. It was known for its association with many celebrated men of letters, and particularly with Lu Xun, a modern Chinese writer whom Chen passionately admired.

With the investigation in the state it was, however, he didn’t think he could spare the time for the trip. So he started to settle back into the various files about Fang when another call came in, this time from Melong.

“I have something for you, Chief Inspector Chen. Where are you?”

“I’m on Yunnan Road.”

“Ah, you’re on the gourmet street. It’s quite close to me. How about I meet you there in ten minutes? I have something to show you.”

“That’s good. I’ll wait here for you,” he said, looking across the street at a restaurant on the corner near Ninghai Road. “I’ll be at the Four Seas Cross-Bridge Rice Noodles.”

Chen left the Internet café and walked over to the noodle restaurant. To his surprise, it wasn’t crowded. He sat down at a corner table. He had hardly finished looking through the menu when Melong stepped in with a large envelope in his hand.

“This is one of the few places around here that hasn’t really changed,” Melong said, sitting down opposite. “An excellent choice.”

But even this noodle place had changed some, the service fancier and the menu more varied than Chen remembered. The waiter put down on the table more than a dozen tiny saucers of fresh toppings, including thin-sliced pork, beef, lamb, fish, shrimp, and vegetables, before bringing over two large bowls of noodles immersed in steaming hot soup covered with a thin layer of oil. They were supposed to immerse the toppings in the soup, then wait for a minute or two before eating. They were the same cross-bridge noodles Zhou had had for his last meal.

The moment the waiter stepped away Melong pushed the envelope across the table to Chen.