Qiu Xiaolong - Don't cry Tai lake

Near the lake, he noticed a crowd waiting to board several large cruise ships. One of the ships looked so modern and luxurious, shining silver in the sunlight, it was as if it were sailing out of a Hollywood movie.

To the west, not far from the dock, several tourists were waiting their turn to take their pictures in front of an enormous rock, the flat surface of which bore four bold Chinese characters in red paint: Pregnant with Wu Yue. Wu Yue referred to the lake area. It was originally a phrase praising the lake’s expanse, but it had long since become a popular background for tourist photos because of a folk belief that the rock was auspicious for young couples eager to start a family.

Passing by a bronze statue of a turtle, the theme of the park, he caught sight of a teahouse built in the traditional architecture style-white walls, vermilion pillars, lattice windows, and a large Chinese character for tea embroidered on an oblong yellow silk pennant that was streaming in the breeze. Crowds of people were sitting at outside tables, drinking tea, playing poker and chess, and relaxing in sight of the surface of the lake, which was dotted with so many white sails that they looked like clouds.

It was a fantastic scene. However, for the locals, who had seen it hundreds of times, it might seem merely a place for tea-drinking.

Chen chose a bamboo table with a tree-framed view of the lake shimmering in the sunlight. The water didn’t look as dark-colored as it did near the ferry, in Shanshan’s company.

A waitress came over and set down a bamboo-covered thermos bottle and a cup containing a pinch of tea leaves.

“Before-Rain tea, it’s the newest pick of the year and the best tea leaves in the house,” she said, pouring a cup for him.

The tea looked tenderly green. He didn’t pick up the cup immediately. Instead he slowly tapped a finger on the table, thinking about what Shanshan had said about the water. He picked up a newspaper from a rack near the table, but when he saw a picture on the front page of local leaders speaking at an economic conference, he put it back down.

Shanshan’s words had more than impressed him. For many years, environmental protection had been practically irrelevant to the Chinese people. Under Mao’s rule, they were famished, literally starving to death, particularly during the so-called Three Years of Natural Disaster in the late fifties and early sixties, and then again during the Cultural Revolution. People’s top priority had been survival, and that meant feeding themselves with whatever was available. Then under Deng’s rule, China began to catch up to the rest of the world for the first time in many years; as Deng put it, “Development is the one and only truth.” So environmental protection still didn’t move to the top of the nation’s agenda.

It was little wonder that she had had a hard time with her work at the chemical company, or that she had been receiving threatening calls because of it. He wondered whether he should contact the local police. He had her phone number, and they might be able to trace the ominous call. Besides, now there had been a murder at her company.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sergeant Huang of the Wuxi Police Bureau.

“Oh, you should have told me you were coming, Chief Inspector Chen,” Huang exclaimed, not trying to conceal the excitement in his voice. “I could have met you at the railway station.”

“Well, you are the first one I’ve contacted here. My vacation was an unexpected development to me as well.”

“I’m so flattered-I mean, for you to call me first. I’m really glad that you chose to vacation in Wuxi.”

“I got a call from Comrade Secretary Zhao, the retired head of the Central Party Discipline Committee. He was too busy to take a vacation that had been arranged for him, and he wanted me to come here in his place. So here I am, enjoying a cup of Before-Rain tea at Yuantouzhu.”

“That’s fantastic, Chief Inspector Chen. I’ve heard so much about you-and about your connection to Beijing. You worked on a highly sensitive anticorruption case directly under Comrade Secretary Zhao. What a case that was. I’ve studied it several times. I’m a loyal fan of yours. I not only followed your extraordinary police work, but I’ve read all your translations too. It would be a dream come true to meet you.”

“I would like to talk to you as well.”

“Really? I’m nearby right now,” Huang said. “Can I come over?”

“Of course, come and join me for a cup of tea. I’m at the teahouse in the park, close to the bronze turtle statue.” Chen added, “Oh, and not a single word to your colleagues about my vacation here.”

“Not a single word to anyone, I promise, Chief Inspector Chen. I’m on my way.”

In less than twenty minutes, Huang appeared, hurrying over to Chen’s table in big strides, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He was a dapper, spirited young man with a broad forehead and penetrating eyes. He grinned at the sight of Chen.

“I spotted you from a distance, Chief Inspector Chen,” Huang said. “I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper.”

Chen had another tea set brought to the table and poured a cup for the young cop. Chen then lost no time in bringing the conversation around to the murder of Liu Deming.

To Chen’s pleasant surprise, Huang turned out to be one of the officers working on that very case. He had been at the chemical company discussing the case with his colleagues when he got Chen’s call.

“You’ve heard about it? Of course you have,” Huang said, his face flushed with anticipation. “You’re not really on vacation here, are you?”

Chen kept sipping at his tea without immediately contradicting him. To the local police, his vacation couldn’t help but be suspicious, even before he expressed interest in the murder. He was known for covert investigations in several highly sensitive cases.

“Well, I thought it would be great to come here, and relax for a week or so, with nothing to do. But in just one day, I’ve already found it kind of boring. I’m not complaining, but maybe I have a cop’s lot cut out for me, as both Detective Yu and his wife Peiqin have said before. Then I happened to hear about the case,” Chen said. “I’m not going to try to investigate: it’s not my territory, and I know better. I simply want to kill some time.”

“Sherlock Holmes must have something to do. I totally understand, Chief. Can I just call you Chief, Chief Inspector Chen?”

Whether Huang believed him or not, the young local cop was eager to model himself on those fictional detectives he admired. So he provided a quite detailed introduction to the case, focusing on what he considered strange and suspicious.

The Wuxi Number One Chemical Company’s being the largest in Wuxi and Liu’s being a representative of the People’s Congress of Zhejiang Province combined to make the murder the top priority for the Wuxi Police Bureau. A special team had been formed for the investigation; Huang was the youngest member of the team.

They had started by building a file on Liu Deming. Liu had worked at the company for over twenty years. When he took over the top position of the state-run company several years ago, it was on the brink of bankruptcy. He managed to lead the company out of the financial woods, then make it profitable, and then to successfully expand. Capable and ambitious, Liu had established himself as an important figure in the city-a “red banner” in the economic development of the region.

In recent years, however, Liu had been involved in some controversies. For one thing, the company was in the process of going public, turning into something between state-owned and privately-owned-a new experiment in China’s economic reform. It was the first company attempting to do this in Wuxi, and Liu himself stood to become the largest shareholder, with millions of shares in his own name. He was going to be a capitalist Big Buck, so to speak, though still a Party member and general manager of the company.