Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“You don’t have to say that to me.” Li shook his head. “I know you have done good work. And on this case too.”

“So we have to-” Chen came to a sudden halt, coughing with a fist against his mouth-”go on with our investigation.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Li sighed, leaning over his desk. “They were talking about making a formal complaint against you. That’s why I had to go out of my way for you, but I don’t think there is any more I can do.”

Chen levered himself out of the chair and then slumped back, looking up at the pictures of Li on the wall-showing the long career of a politician with other politicians. He tried to dig a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, but Li handed him one from the case on the desk.

“I’m gone?” Chen asked.

“No, not if you are not around to goad them. Let things cool down. That’s what I promised them. That you would be busy with something else.”

“So I have to suspend the investigation?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a murder case. Why should the Internal Security people come after me, but not after the murderer?”

“This is not an ordinary murder case.”

“There aren’t any ordinary murders.”

“Well-” The Party Secretary seemed ruffled. “You may have a point, but other people may have theirs, too, Comrade Chief Inspector.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever thought about the consequences of the case- the political consequences, I mean?”

“Well, there may be some,” Chen admitted after a moment’s hesitation.

“There may be a lot, some people think,” Li said.

Chen waited for Li to go on.

“Timing is the heart of the matter here. In the present political climate, do you think your investigation will be helpful to the Party’s image?” Li paused-for effect-before he resumed. “Who is involved in the case? A national model worker and a married HCC in an adulterous bed-if your hypothesis is correct. What would people think? Ideological bankruptcy! What is worse, people would come to see the HCC as a product of our Party system, and blame the high cadres of the old generation for every problem. And some could even use it as an excuse to slander the government. After what happened in Tiananmen Square last summer, a lot of people are still shaken in their belief in our socialist system.”

“Could it be so serious?” Chen said. “With Wu’s family background, our media would probably never cover the case at all. And I don’t think that people would react in the way you’ve said.”

“But it is possible, isn’t it? At present, political stability is of paramount importance, Comrade Chief Inspector. So, officially the investigation will go on, and its responsibility still lies with us,” the Party Secretary continued. “But if you don’t stop, you can count on Internal Security making a parallel investigation. If necessary, they will block your investigation with whatever charge they can bring out against you.”

“A parallel investigation, I see.”

“You cannot give those people any ‘queue’ to grab. Or they will really tear off your scalp.”

Chief Inspector Chen had enough queues, he was well aware, for others to grab. Not just the trip to Guangzhou.

The Party Secretary seemed to be doing some heavy thinking. “Besides, your hypothesis may account for some facts,” Li said, “but there is no eyewitness. No weapons. No hard evidence of legal value. Nothing but circumstantial evidence in support of what is, essentially, an imaginative theory. And finally, no motive either. Why should Wu have murdered her? So at present, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen, nothing can justify the continuation of the investigation.”

“Well-” Chen said bitterly, “no politics can justify it.”

“Consider the case closed-at least for the time being. We don’t have to declare this. Let’s wait. When the political wind changes, or when you get hold of irrefutable evidence, or find the motive, we’ll talk about it again.”

It was always possible to wait. No one could tell, however, when that wind would change. And what irrefutable evidence could there be since the final definition of what was probative would be made somewhere else?

“But what if the weather does not change, Comrade Party Secretary?”

“You want the entire system to bend to you, Comrade Chief Inspector?” Li said, frowning. “I’ve made myself clear, I believe: I do not want to declare, as an official decision, that you are no longer in charge of the case. Yes, I am the one who introduced you into the Party, but as a Party member, first and foremost, I have to protect the interests of the Party. You’re a Party member, too. So we are both supposed to be aware of the paramount importance of serving the Party’s interests.”

Any further argument would be futile, Chen concluded, and he made no further protest. “I see, Party Secretary Li,” he said, rising from the table.

“I cannot see why you’re so hooked on this case,” the Party Secretary said as Chen left.

Nor could Chief Inspector Chen himself.

Not even back in his apartment, after thinking about it all the way home. Turning on the light, he collapsed into the chair. The room looked bare and shabby-staggeringly empty, forlorn.

A room’s like a woman, he reflected. It also possesses you. Besides, you have to spend a fortune to make it love you.

Whether this was a metaphor he had read somewhere, or just a momentary spark of his own mind, he was unsure. Poetic images came to him, more often than not, at unexpected moments.

He could not fall asleep, he knew, but after an eventful day, it was good to lie down on the bed. As he was gazing up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling, surges of loneliness came rushing over him. Occasionally, he enjoyed a touch of solitude in the depth of night. But what struck him was more than a melancholy sense of being alone. It was as if his very existence were becoming doubtful.

Guan must have experienced those lonely moments too; as a woman she had to bear even more pressure, alone in her cell-like dorm room.

He got up, went into the bathroom, and rinsed his face with cold water. He had to make an effort to think about the case from the Party Secretary’s perspective, but his thoughts moved back to Guan.

Looking out at a light in the distance, Chief Inspector Chen detected an affinity between the dead woman and himself. In their careers, both had been smooth and successful-at least in other people’s eyes. They had been promoted to positions normally beyond the reach of people of their age. As Overseas Chinese Lu had observed, luck had fallen in Chen’s lap. Some of his colleagues’ jealousy was understandable. Jealousy could also explain Guan’s unpopularity among her neighbors.

They both also happened to be, in a newly coined Chinese term, “not-too-young youths.” It had carried weight with the bureau housing committee, but other than that, it was anything but pleasant, with its strong connotation that these people should have married a long time ago.

Success in a political career helped little in one’s personal life. On the contrary, it could hurt. Especially in modern times, in China. Being a Party member meant being loyal to the Party first according to the Party Constitution, which was not necessarily attractive to a potential spouse. A would-be husband would, more likely than not, prefer a wife who pledged loyalty to him first, who would take care of their family with all her heart and soul.

Being politically successful could make one’s personal life difficult in a variety of ways. He knew that from his own experience: He was constantly watched-a bachelor chief inspector in his mid-thirties. He had to live up to his official role. That might have been one of the reasons that he had remained single. The same might have applied to Guan.