Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“Wu might be doing a good job at the magazine, but he had an affair with Guan. In fact, he called her on the very night of her death.”

“Really!”

“Yes, we have evidence.”

“What kind of evidence?”

He chose to be vague: “At present, circumstantial evidence.”

“So from this circumstantial evidence you conclude,” she said sharply, “that Wu Bing’s son has committed the murder.”

“No, we are not jumping to any conclusion. It’s still under investigation.”

“Still, the news would be a terrible blow to Wu Bing, and he’s in such poor health.”

“Comrade Wu Bing is an old comrade I have always respected. We know he is in the hospital. We know that. So we are being very careful.”

“Whatever Wu Xiaoming’s family background, I am not going to shelter him. Far from it. If he is found guilty, he should be punished. That’s Party policy.”

“Thank you for your support, Comrade Director Yao.”

“But, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, have you thought about the people’s reaction to your investigation?”

Director Yao was surrounded by walls of thick, gold-edged government books. All the furniture in her office was massive. Everything bespoke the solidity of authority.

“Reaction?” he asked. “I am not clear what reaction you’re talking about.”

“People would say, ‘What, Wu Bing’s son has committed murder! Those HCC!’ That will not be helpful to our Party’s image.”

“Comrade Director Yao, as a Party member as well as a police officer, I’ve always regarded it as my highest responsibility to defend the unsoiled image of our Party, but I don’t see how our investigation can endanger it.”

“Comrade Chief Inspector Chen,” she said, sitting even more upright and crossing her hands on the desk, “our Party has made tremendous progress in economic and political reform, but during such a transitional period, there may be some problems people will complain about. And currently there is a social view opposed to high cadres’ children-the so- called HCC-as if they were all capable of any wrong. Of course it’s not true.”

“I see your point, Comrade Director Yao,” he said. “As early as elementary school, I learned what a great contribution the high cadres-the revolutionaries of the old generation-made to our country. So how can I have any prejudice against their children? Our investigation has nothing to do with any misconception about HCC. This is just a homicide case assigned to our special case group. We’ve made a point of keeping it from the media. I don’t see how people could know anything about our investigation.”

“You never know, Comrade Chief Inspector.” She then changed the subject. “So you went to Guangzhou a few days ago.”

“Yes, to make inquiries there.”

Director Yao’s knowledge of his trip disturbed him. Neither the Shanghai nor Guangzhou Public Police Bureau had to report a police officer’s activity to the Party Discipline Committee. In fact, there were not too many people who knew about the trip. He had left for Guangzhou without making a report to Party Secretary Li. Commissar Zhang and Detective Yu were the only people he had informed.

“It is close to Hong Kong. The special zone. You must have seen a different spirit there-a different lifestyle.”

“No. I was conducting an investigation there. Whatever the difference may have been, I did not have time to experience it. Trust me, Comrade Director Yao, I’m doing a conscientious job.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. Of course the Party trusts you. That’s why I wanted you to come to my office today, I’d also like to make a suggestion to you. For a politically sensitive case like this, I think we all need to proceed with the utmost caution. It is best left in the hands of the Internal Security.”

“Internal Security? It’s a homicide case, Comrade Director Yao. I don’t think I see the necessity.”

“You will, if you think about the possible political impact.”

“If Wu Xiaoming proves to be innocent, we’re not going to do anything. But if he is guilty, everybody is equal before the law.” He added, “Of course, Comrade Director Yao, we’ll be very careful to keep your instruction in mind.”

“So you’re determined to go on with the investigation.”

“Yes, I’m a cop.”

“Well…” she said finally, “it is just my suggestion. You’re a chief inspector, and it is up to you to decide. Still, I would appreciate it if you’d report to me when you make some progress in your investigation. It is in the Party’s interests.”

“That will be fine,” he said, trying to be vague again. He did not think it was his responsibility to report to her. “I’m a Party member. I will do everything in accordance with bureau procedure, and in the interests of the Party, too.”

“People are talking about your dedication to your work. Their praise seems to be justified,” she said, rising from her desk. “You’ve a great future ahead of you, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen. We are old. Sooner or later we will have to entrust our socialist cause to young people like you. So I expect to see you soon.”

“Thank you, Director Yao,” he said. “Your advice and instructions are very important to me.”

Everything she said was like a quotation from a political textbook, he reflected, nodding nonetheless.

“Also,” she continued in the same serious voice, “we’re concerned about your personal life.”

“My personal life?”

“You are a young cadre in the process of being promoted, and it’s proper and right for us to be concerned. You’re in your mid-thirties, aren’t you? It’s time for you to settle down.”

“Thank you, Comrade Director Yao. I’ve just been so busy.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve read the article about your work by that Wenhui reporter.”

She walked him to the elevator. Once more, they shook hands, formally.

Outside, the drizzle was heavier.

Director Yao’s interference was ominous.

It was not just that this senior Party official knew Wu Xiaoming so well. Yao and Wu’s families had moved in the same circles. An old cadre herself, her reaction to an investigation against an HCC was not too surprising. But her knowledge of the case was alarming, and she was so inquisitive about his investigation in Guangzhou, and even about his personal life, including “that Wenhui reporter.” In her position, Yao was not supposed to be aware of these things- unless Chen himself was under investigation.

The committee was the most powerful institution determining a cadre’s promotion or demotion. A week earlier, Chief Inspector Chen had told himself that he was on the way up-to serve the people.

Now he was not sure.

When Chief Inspector Chen returned to the bureau, it was past twelve o’clock.

Party Secretary Li was still not in. Nor was Detective Yu. And Chen’s phone was ringing off the hook. The first call came from Beijing headquarters. It was about a case solved long ago. He had no idea why Chief Inspector Qiao Daxing, his counterpart in Beijing, wanted to talk to him about it. Qiao spent twenty minutes of a long-distance call without mentioning anything new or substantial, and ended up saying that he looked forward to seeing Chen in Beijing and to treating him to Beijing roast duck on Huangfujing Avenue.

The second call was also a surprise. It came from the Wenhui Daily, not from Wang Feng but from an editor whom he hardly knew. A reader had written to the newspaper, asking the editor to forward her thanks to the poet for the realistic description of down-to-earth police officers. Ironic, he thought, since no one had called him “realistic” before.