Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

Then she chided herself for thinking about such things. She was merely performing a task for her husband. Period. What possessed her, she wondered. She must be incorrigible-from having read The Dream of the Red Chamber so many times. She lowered her chin to conceal her blush. But she admitted to herself that the evening was enjoyable, finding herself more stimulated than she would have imagined by the touch of Chief Inspector Chen’s hand on her waist. Earlier there had also been some element of excitement when she moved in that young man’s arms.

“Yu has also interviewed Jiang Weihe and Ning Ying,” she said in a hurry.

“Ning Ying-who’s she?”

“Another woman involved with Wu Xiaoming. Jiang gave Ning Ying’s name to Yu.”

“Why?”

“Jiang did not know anything about the relationship between Guan and Wu. Ning was the one who was Wu’s girlfriend after Jiang, so Jiang believed that Ning might know something about Guan.”

“And did she?” He grinned broadly at a passing pair of dancers, who almost collided with them.

“Not much. But Ning met Guan at one of those parties in Wu’s home.”

“You’re dancing so wonderfully,” he said, looking over her shoulder, alertly.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing again.

They were moving to a fast tune. The incessant changing of lights made the scene surreal. She could sense Chen’s reluctance to hold her tight.

“And something more-”

“That’s a great step.”

“Oh,” she said, not sure what he was referring to. “What’s the next step?”

“Let me think-”

Conversation was difficult. Chen would switch topics whenever there were people near them. In the ballroom, dancers bumped against one another all the time. And she was not sure if Chen could hear her whisper amidst the blaring music.

Chen then introduced her to the elderly American gentleman who had come in with Chen.

“You are beautiful,” the American said in Chinese.

“Thank you,” she said in English.

She had been learning English at a night school, off and on, for several years. It was mainly for her son’s benefit. She did not want to be ignorant of Qinqin’s homework. She was pleased with her ability to exchange some simple sentences with her American partner.

Chief Inspector Chen also danced with someone else.

She understood that all this was necessary. It was for Yu. And for herself.

When she went back to her table, her soft drink was no longer cold. She shook her head slightly in Yu’s direction. Could he see the gesture, or catch its meaning, she wondered, brushing strands of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand.

A Dai girl appeared on the stage, announcing that it was time for the sing-along, or karaoke.

Several people were moving a TV onto the stage. The big screen showed young Dai lovers frolicking in a river, singing, with a caption beneath the picture.

Peiqin was at a loss. She had no idea how she could manage to pass her remaining information to Chief Inspector Chen. She observed that a waitress was talking to him. He was listening attentively, and then he exchanged a few words with the American couple. They both nodded. To her surprise, Mr. Rosenthal came over to her table, followed by Chen, who interpreted for him.

“Would you like to sing karaoke with us in a private room?”

“What?”

“Professor Rosenthal thinks we need a partner for karaoke,” Chen said. “He also says you can speak English beautifully.”

“No, I have never been to a karaoke party, and I can only say a couple of the simplest sentences in English,” she replied.

“Don’t worry,” Chen said. “I’ll interpret for you. And we can talk among ourselves in the private room.”

“Oh, I see.”

Earlier she had noticed several bamboo huts at one side of the hall. She had thought that they were Dai-style decorations. They turned out to be “private rooms.”

The one they went into was luxuriously carpeted, with a TV and VCR system set in the wall, two microphones on a table by the leather sofas, and a basket of fruit on the table.

Outside, people could select their songs on the big TV by paying a fee, but with so many people, a long wait was to be expected. There was also a lot of background noise.

“It must be very expensive, the private room and the service,”

Peiqin said. “Do you have to pay for it?”

“Yes, it’s expensive,” Chen said, “but it’s a delegation activity, a government expense.”

“It’s the first time for us,” Mr. Rosenthal said. “Karaoke is popular in Japan, we’ve heard, and it seems to be so popular here, too.”

“Something to do with our culture,” Chen said. “We would think it too assertive to sing in front of other people without some music in the background.”

“Or maybe we do not sing too well,” Peiqin said, waiting for Chen to interpret, “but with the background music, it does not matter that much.”

“Yes, I like that better-because I do not sing like a lark,” Mrs. Rosenthal said.

A waitress brought them a menu of songs in both English and Chinese, and underneath each of its name a number was indicated. All they had to do was push the number on a remote control. Chen chose several songs for the Rosenthals to sing in duet.

As Peiqin and Chen bent over the song menu, pretending to discuss their choices, she was finally able to pass to Chen a copy of the gas coupon and the tapes of Yu’s interviews with Yang Shuhui, the gas station attendant, as well as with Jiang and Ning.

Chen listened carefully to the end of her account, jotted something on a napkin, and said, “Ask Yu not to make any move during the conference. I’ll take care of the case as soon as I finish this assignment.”

“Yu wants you to be very cautious.”

“I will,” Chen said. “Don’t disclose the information to anybody. Not even to Party Secretary Li.”

“Anything else I can do in the meantime? Old Hunter also wants to do his part. The old man has gotten a temporary assignment- traffic control, so he is patrolling streets instead of markets.”

“No, don’t you do anything, neither you nor Old Hunter. It’s too. .. dangerous,” Chen said. “Besides, you’ve already done so much. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

“No, you don’t have to,” she said.

“Well, Lu will probably come to your place a lot as a gourmet customer for the noodles in your restaurant.”

“We’ve got many regular customers. I know how to treat someone like him.”

Their talk came to an abrupt end again. Mr. Rosenthal was looking at his watch. Chen said that the Americans were fully scheduled for the following day.

So they emerged from the private room.

People were leaving the large hall. Yu had left, too. Maybe it was the hour. Maybe it was not too pleasant for him to watch his wife being so popular with other men-including his boss and the elderly American.

She bid good-bye to Chief Inspector Chen and the Rosenthals.

It had been a wonderful night for her. If there was one thing she had missed, it was that Yu had not danced and sung with her. A short man also rose from a table near the entrance, following Chen and his companions out of the hall. She might have been too suspicious, but she made sure that she was not followed before she started to look for Yu outside.

The summer night breeze was pleasant. Yu was waiting for her under a blossoming dogwood tree, still wearing his glasses and smoking a cigarette. There was a black car beside him. To her surprise, she saw Shi Qong waving to her from the car. One of their colleagues in the Yunnan years, Shi had worked as a driver at a petrochemical company since coming back to Shanghai.

It was not the only car waiting along the curb. Nor was it a luxurious one. It was a Dazhong, a product of a Shanghai and Volkswagen joint venture. It was enough, however, that a car was waiting for them. A perfect finishing touch to the night. Yu had been thoughtful to make the arrangement-so romantic.