Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Qian said. “As a neighbor, she hardly talked to me at all.”

“Yes, I’ve spoken to her neighbors downstairs, and they also considered her too much of a big shot to talk to them.”

“Some of her neighbors believed she put on airs, trying to appear head and shoulders above others, but I don’t think that is true.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m retired now, but I’ve also been a model teacher for over twenty years. Of course, my model status was only at the district level, by no means as high as hers, but I know what it’s like,” Qian said, stroking his well-shaved chin. “Once you’re a role model, you’re model-shaped.”

“That’s a very original point,” Chen said.

“People said, for instance, I was all patience with my students, but I was not-not all the time. But once you’re a model teacher, you have to be.”

“So it is like a magical mask. When you wear the mask, the mask becomes you.”

“Exactly,” Qian said, “except it’s not necessarily a magic one.”

“Still, she was supposed to be a model neighbor in the dorm, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, but it can be so exhausting to live with your mask on all the time. No one can wear a mask all the time. You want to have a break. Back in the dorm, why should she continue to play her role and serve her neighbors the way she served her customers? She was just too tired to mix with her neighbors, I believe. That could have caused her unpopularity.”

“That is very insightful,” Chen said. “I was puzzled why her neighbors downstairs seemed so biased against her.”

“They do not really have anything against her. They are just not in a good mood. And there’s another important factor. Guan had a room for herself, while theirs was for the whole family.”

“Yes, you’re right again,” he said. “But you have a room for yourself too.”

“No, not really,” Qian said. “My stepdaughter lives with her parents, but she has an eye on this room. That’s why she put up all the Hong Kong star pictures.”

“I see.”

“People living in a dorm are a different lot. In theory, we are staying here just for a short transitional period. So we are not really concerned about relationships with our neighbors. We do not call this home.”

“Yes, it must be so different, living in a dorm.”

“Take the public bathroom for example. Each floor shares one. But if people believe they are going to move away tomorrow, who’s going to take care of it?”

“You’re really putting things into perspective for me, Comrade Qian.”

“It has not been easy for Guan,” Qian said. “A single young woman. Meetings and conferences all day, and back home alone at night-and not to someplace she could really call home.”

“Can you be a bit more specific here?” Chen said. “Is there something particular you have noticed?”

“Well, it was several months ago. I was unable to fall asleep that night, so I got up and practiced my calligraphy for a couple of hours. But I remained wide awake afterward. Lying on my bed, I heard a strange sound coming from downstairs. The old dorm is hardly soundproof, and you can hear a lot. I listened more closely. It was Guan sobbing-heart-breakingly-at three A.M.. She was weeping inconsolably, alone.”

“Alone?”

“I thought so,” Qian said, “I did not hear another voice. She wept for more than half an hour.”

“Did you observe anything else?”

“Not that I can think of-except that she was probably like me, and didn’t sleep too well. Often I could see light coming up through the cracks in the floor.”

“One of her neighbors mentioned that she came back quite late many nights,” Chen said, “Could that be the reason?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes I heard her footsteps late at night, but I had hardly any contact with her,” Qian said, taking a sip at his cold tea. “I suggest you talk to Zuo Qing. She’s a retired cadre, but keeps herself busy taking care of the utility fees for the building. She’s also a member of the Neighborhood Security or something. She may be able to tell you more. And she also lives on Guan’s floor, just on the other side of the corridor, close to the stairs.”

Chief Inspector Chen went downstairs again.

An elderly woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses opened the door wide and said, “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Comrade Zuo, but I’ve come about Guan Hongying.”

“She’d dead, I’ve heard,” she said. “You’d better come in. I’ve got something on the stove.”

“Thank you,” he said, staring at the coal stove outside the door. There was nothing being cooked on it. As he stepped into the room, she closed the door behind him. His question was almost immediately answered. Inside the door was a gas tank with a flat pan on it, smelling very pleasant.

Zuo was wearing a black skirt and a silvery gray silk blouse with the top button open. Her high-heeled shoes were gray too. Gesturing to him to sit on a scarlet plush-covered sofa by the window, she continued her cooking.

“It’s not easy to get a gas tank,” she said, “and dangerous to put it in the corridor along with other people’s coal stoves.”

“I see,” he said. “Comrade Zuo, I was told that you have done a lot for the dorm building.”

“Well, I do volunteer work for the neighborhood. Someone has to do it.”

“So you must have had a lot of contact with Guan Hongying.”

“No, not a lot. She’s a popular celebrity in her store, but here she was not.”

“Why?”

“Too busy, I would say. The only time there was any conversation between us would be the occasion,” she said, flipping the egg over in the pan, “when she paid her share of the utility bill on the first day of every month. She would hand over the cash in a white envelope, and say some polite phrase while her receipt was prepared.”

“You never talked about anything else?”

“Well, she once mentioned that since she did not cook much in the dorm building, her equal share of the utility bill was not fair. But she did not really argue about it. Never mentioned it again. Whatever was on her mind, she kept to herself.”

“She seemed to be quite secretive.”

“Look, I don’t mean to speak ill of her.”

“I understand, Comrade Zuo,” he said. “Now on the evening of May tenth, the night she was murdered, Guan left the building around ten thirty-according to one of her neighbors. Did you notice anything around the time?”

“As for that night,” she said, “I don’t think I saw or heard her go out. I usually go to bed at ten.”

“Now, you’re also a member of the Neighborhood Security Committee, Comrade Zuo. Did you notice anything suspicious in the dorm or in the lane, during the last few days in Guan’s life?”

She took off her glasses, looked at them, rubbed them on her apron, put them on again, and then shook her head. “I don’t think so, but there’s one thing,” she said. “I’m not sure whether you’d call it suspicious.”

“What’s that?” He took out his notebook.

“About a week ago, I was watching Office Stories. Everybody is watching it, it’s hilarious. But my TV broke down, so I was thinking of going to Xiangxiang’s place. And opening the door, I saw a stranger coming out of a room at the end of the corridor.”

“Out of Guan’s room?”

“I was not sure. There are only three rooms at the end of the corridor, including Guan’s. The Sus happened to be out of town that night, I know. Of course, the stranger could have been Yuan’s guest, but with only one dim light at the landing, and all the stuff stacked in disorder along the corridor, it’s not that easy for a stranger to find his way. It’s a matter of course for the host to accompany the guest to the stairs.”