Qiu Xiaolong - When Red is Black

He placed a phone call to the city housing committee. The associate director of the committee gave Chen a positive answer regarding the availability of that particular room.

“We will hold it for you, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen.”

Such an old-fashioned room might not appear to Yu to be a satisfactory substitute for the new apartment in Tianling New Village that he had lost. But this shikumen room had potential that Chen alone knew about: it was on the street where the New World was going to be built. The value of properties there would increase tremendously when construction started. And as Gu was the potential buyer, Chen was sure he would be able to put in a word or two on behalf of Yu. According to the newest policy, compensation to the resident would be negotiable depending upon the value of the property-and, even better, the original resident could claim a new apartment of similar size in the same area when the project was completed.

Then Chen started to think about buying a room in that area, too. Perhaps he could buy a modest room for his mother, who refused to move in with him. At least it would be better than the attic she had lived in for thirty years. With the payment from the translation, he reflected, it was not unimaginable.

He wondered if there might be a conflict of interest. There was no hurry for him to make up his mind though. He would decide later.

At this moment he had to think of a way to talk Yu into it- without saying a single word to him about the New World.

A hint might be enough.

He lit a cigarette as he started visualizing a future visit to Yu in his new quarters, taking part in a game of go in a quaint courtyard, drinking a cup of Dragon Well tea. Perhaps there would be some neighbors in the background, merely as part of the traditional scenery. The picture was a pleasant contrast to his own apartment building, where people met, if at all, briefly, quickly, impersonally, on the stairs or in the narrow hallway. People were simply classified as Room 12, Room 35, Room 26.

He wondered whether he had been influenced by the business proposal for the New World. It was possible. People could be influenced by a book, a movie, a song, a proverb, not to mention a proposal interrelated with the cultural history of the city. He was no exception.

It was then that, like an apparition, Party Secretary Li dropped by his office.

“Great! You are already back at work, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“I just stopped by to take a look at the paperwork that has piled up. There may be some urgent documents or letters that need my attention.”

“The Propaganda Minister of the city government has talked to us again. We have decided to hold the press conference this Friday. It’s time the Yin case was concluded. We cannot wait forever, you know.” Li added, “It’s really his decision.”

The last sentence might have been added for face’s sake. Chen had opposed the termination of the investigation, but the contrary decision might be a little more acceptable if, supposedly, it had been made by somebody outside the bureau.

Chen knew he was not in a position to argue. Yu had informed Li of the new lead, about Bao, but Li had brushed this aside. There were no witnesses and no direct evidence to connect Bao with the murder.

“With all the notices that have been sent out, some information about Bao should reach us soon, Party Secretary Li,” Chen said, making a feeble attempt to stall.

“If you could find Bao and prove him to be the murderer before Friday, it would be satisfactory. We have also spoken to Internal Security, and they have no objection to that conclusion. But they want us to keep them informed if you find out anything,” Li said amiably before leaving the office, “it’s all in the interests of the Party authorities.”

As Party Secretary Li’s footsteps faded along the corridor, Chen picked up the phone, and decided that he was justified in dialing the number. In a Confucian classic, Chen recalled, there was a long paragraph on the term “expedience.” It seemed relevant now.

“Hello, Gu.”

“Hi, Chief Inspector Chen. I was just thinking of giving you a call. My partner has already showed the English proposal to an American investment banker.”

“But the text has not been finalized yet.”

“Well, it was too good an opportunity to miss. Mr. Holt decided to go ahead. We may have to make some minor changes later, of course. You have really done me a great favor.”

“You are flattering me again. But I have to ask a you a favor, Gu.”

“Anything, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“If your are not too busy at the moment, how about meeting for lunch at Xinya? We’ll talk there.”

“Xinya, that’s great.”

They were seated in a private room in the state-run restaurant on Nanjing Road. Like other large restaurants in the city, Xinya had been resplendently redecorated. Its facade shone in the sunlight, and its rear connected with a new American hotel, the Amada.

“You made an excellent choice,” Gu said. “Xinya used to be my grandpa’s favorite place.”

In his childhood, Chen’s parents, too, used to take him there more often than to any other restaurant.

“Beef in oyster sauce. Fried milk. Garlic fried fish in a bamboo basket. Gulao pork. These were the dishes we ordered almost every time,” Gu said. “My grandfather had a superstitious belief in them.”

A waiter in a bright yellow uniform took their order down on a small pad, after suggesting many exotic, expensive possibilities.

Gu selected those specials his grandfather had always chosen. Chen asked for slices of winter bamboo shoots fried with dried winter mushroom, which had also been one of his parents’ favorites.

“I am sorry, we do not have bamboo shoots.”

“How can that be?”

“Bamboo does not grow in Guangzhou. Xinya is known for its genuine Guangdong-style cuisine. All our vegetables are from there. We get them delivered by overnight air freight.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Chen said, shaking his head as the waiter stepped out of the room. “What about buying bamboo shoots in the local market?”

“Well, that’s what a state-run restaurant is like,” Gu said. “It’s not their own business. Profit or no profit, the people here get the same pay. They don’t care. Soon, you will come to dine in the restaurants of the New World. All of them will be privately run, and you may have whatever you like.”

“Really, I am not such a fastidious gourmet,” Chen said. “I wanted you to meet me here because I need to discuss something with you.”

That was true. Chief Inspector Chen did not want to talk too much on the bureau phone, with people like Party Secretary Li dropping in without knocking; Li, for one, still did not have the word “privacy” in his vocabulary.

“Yes, please go on.”

“Detective Yu, my long-time partner, has been looking for a young man named Bao,” Chen said, producing a picture from his briefcase. “That’s his picture, taken about a year ago in Jiangxi Province. Like other provincials, Bao has not registered his residence in the city. Detective Yu is having a hard time tracking him down. I do not think Bao is connected with the Blue or other triads, but those organizations may know more about the provincials than we do. The police do not have direct control over them.”

“Let me ask around. There is one thing I do know about those provincials: if they are from Jiangxi, they will stay together in a certain new area, like Wenzhou village, where the police have not established control yet, but where the Blues have their contacts.”

“Exactly. It’s an important case for my partner. If you can find out something before this Friday, I would be very grateful.”