Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“Please sit down,” she said. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

Yu was vaguely aware of the flower arrangement on the mantelpiece, of the carpet gleaming against polished wood, of the subdued ticking of a mahogany grandfather clock, as he looked around, sinking deep into the sofa.

“I’ll tell Xiaoming that you are here,” she said, disappearing through another door.

Wu Xiaoming came out immediately. A man in his early forties, Wu was tall, broad-chested, but surprisingly ordinary-looking. His eyes were keen and wary under heavy lids, just like his sister’s, with deep creases around the corners. He had none of the artistic airs of professional photographers portrayed on TV. It was difficult for Detective Yu to associate the man before him with the HCC who had taken pictures of nude models, slept with Guan, and perhaps a lot of other women, too. But then Yu sensed something else in Wu’s presence-not so much in his appearance, but something emanating from him. Wu looked so successful, confident in his talk and gestures; he emitted a physical glow characteristic of those enjoying and exercising power at a higher level.

Could it be the glow that had drawn so many moths?

“Let’s talk in the study,” Wu said when they had finished their introductions to one another.

Wu led the way across the hall into a spacious room, austerely furnished except for a single gold-framed picture on the wall suggestive of the owner’s taste. Behind a mahogany desk, the French window displayed a view of a lawn and blossoming trees.

“This is my father’s study,” Wu said. “He’s in the hospital, you know.”

Yu had seen the old man’s picture in the newspapers, a lined face, sensitive, with a high-bridged nose.

Tapping his fingers lightly on the desk, Wu sat comfortably in the leather swivel chair that had belonged to his father. “What can I do for you, comrades?”

“We’re here to ask you a few questions,” Yu said, taking out a mini-recorder. “Our conversation will be recorded.”

“We’ve just been to your office,” Chen added. “The secretary told us that you’re working at home. We’re engaged in a serious investigation. That’s why we came here directly.”

“Guan Hongying’s case, right?” Wu asked.

“Yes,” Chen said. “You appear to be aware of it.”

“This officer, Comrade Detective Yu, has made several phone calls to me about it.”

“Yes, I did,” Yu said. “Last time you told me that your relationship with Guan was one hundred percent professional. You took some pictures of her for the newspaper. That’s about it, right?”

“Yes, for the People’s Daily. If you want to see those pictures, I’ve kept some in the office. And for another magazine, too, a whole sequence, but I’m not sure I can find them here.”

“You met her just a couple of times for the photo sessions?”

“Well, in my profession, you sometimes need to take hun- dreds of pictures before getting a good one. I’m not so sure about the exact time we worked together.”

“No other contact?”

“Come on, Comrade Detective Yu. You could not shoot, shoot, shoot, and do nothing else all the time, could you? As a photographer, you have to know your model well, tune her up, so to speak, before you can capture the soul.”

“Yes, the body and soul,” Chen said, “for your exploration.”

“Last October,” Yu said, “you made a trip to the Yellow Mountains.”

“Yes. I did.”

“You went there by yourself?”

“No. It was in a tourist group sponsored by a travel agency. So I went there with a number of people.”

“According to the record at East Wind Travel Agency, you bought tickets for two. Who’s the other one you booked the ticket for?”

“Er-now you mention it,” Wu said. “Yes, I did buy a ticket for another person.”

“Who was it?”

“Guan Hongying. I happened to mention the trip. She, too, was interested in it. So she asked me to buy a ticket for her.”

“But why was the ticket not booked in her own name?”

“Well, she was such a celebrity. And she did not want to be treated as such in a tourist group. Privacy was the very thing she craved. Also, she was afraid that the travel agency might put her picture up in its windows.”

“What about you?” Yu asked. “You did not use your own name either.”

“I did it for the same reason, my family background and all that,” Wu said with a smile, “though I am not such a celebrity.”

“According to the rules, you must show your I.D. to register with a travel agency.”

“Well, people travel under different names. It is not something uncommon even if they show their true I.D. s. The travel agency is not too strict about it.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Yu said. “Not as a cop.”

“As a professional photographer,” Wu said, “I have traveled a lot. I know the ropes, believe me.”

“There’s something else, Mr. Professional Photographer for the Red Star.” Yu could barely control the mounting sarcasm in his voice. “You not only registered under the assumed names, but also as a couple.”

“Oh, that. I see why you’re here today. Let me explain, Comrade Detective Yu,” Wu said, taking a cigarette out of a pack of Kents on the desk, and lighting one for himself. “When you travel with a group of people, you have to share rooms. Now, some tourists are so talkative, they would never give you a break all night. What is worse, some snore thunderously. So instead of sharing the room with a stranger, Guan and I decided it might be a good idea to share a room between ourselves.”

“So the two of you stayed in the same hotel room during the trip?”

“Yes, we did.”

“So you knew her inside out,” Chen cut in, “knowing that she would keep her mouth shut when you were in no mood to listen, and that she slept sweetly, never snoring or tossing about in bed. Vice versa, of course.”

“No, Comrade Chief Inspector,” Wu said, tapping his cigarette lightly over the ashtray. “It’s not what you might think.”

“What do we think?” Yu detected the first slight sign of discomfort in Wu’s voice. “Tell me, Comrade Wu Xiaoming.”

“Well, it was all Guan’s idea,” Wu said. “To be honest, there’s a more important reason why she wanted us to register as a couple. It was to save money. The travel agency gave a huge discount to couples. A promotional gimmick. Buy one and get the second at half price.”

“But the fact was that you shared the room,” Yu said, “as man and woman.”

“Yes, as man and woman, but not as what you are implying.”

“You stayed with a young, pretty woman in the same hotel room for a whole week,” Yu said, “without having sex with her. Is that what you’re telling us?”

“It surely reminds me of Liu Xiawei,” Chen cut in. “Oh, what a perfect gentleman!”

“Who is Mr. Liu Xiawei?” Yu said.

“A legendary figure during the Spring and Autumn War Period, about two thousand years ago. Liu once held a naked woman in his arms for a night, it is said, without having sex with her. Confucius had a very high opinion of Liu, for it’s against Confucian rules to have sex with any woman except one’s wife.”

“You don’t have to tell me these stories,” Wu said. “Believe it or not, what I’m telling you is the truth. Nothing but the truth.”

“How could the travel agency have permitted you to share a room?” Yu said. “They are very strict about that. You must show your marriage license, I mean. Or they will lose their own business license.”

“Guan insisted on it, so I managed to get some identification materials for us.”

“How did you manage that?”