by Qiu Xiaolong
“No.” He sat up resolutely. It was not just all the years studying the People’s Police Morals Manual that had made Chen immune to such provocation. “I want to talk to you about something else.”
“What?”
“I’m a cop.” He produced his official I.D. “I’m here to ask you some questions.”
“You S.O.B!” She put one hand over her breasts and the other over her pubic hair.
It struck him as an absurd attempt at modesty, as if his being a cop had suddenly changed her identity, too.
“You won’t get into trouble if you cooperate with me,” he said. “I give you my word.”
“Then why didn’t you say so from start?”
“When I came to you, I was not prepared to see you like this. Ouyang had just told me that you were the one I’ve been looking for. I was surprised, and you did not give me a chance to say anything. “ He handed the bathrobe over to her. “Put it on before you get cold.”
“I don’t trust you,” she said, taking the bathrobe. “Why should I cooperate with you?”
“I can have you arrested,” he said, taking out the recorder from under the pillow. “Once you are put in jail, you’ll have to talk anyway, but that’s not what I want to do.”
“What a treacherous sneak!”
“I’m a police officer.”
“So why don’t you go ahead and put me there?”
“Ouyang is my friend. Besides—”
“Why did you lie to Ouyang about being a poet?”
“No, I didn’t. I am a poet.”
It took him some time to ferret out his Writers’ Association membership card from his wallet.
“Then what the hell do you want with me?”
“Just a few questions.”
“You are so horrible.” She broke down, sobbing with fear and humiliation. “When I was ready—”
He had attained authority over her with his surprise revelation of his official identity. But they were still involved in a highly dramatic scene. He, in his half-buttoned shirt and underpants; she, in a bathrobe. The knowledge of her nakedness under the robe, soft and bulging in the right places, was disturbing. He poured her a cup of tea to calm them both.
Sipping at the tea, her painted toes like fallen petals on the carpet, she regained some control.
The touch of her toes was still fresh in his memory.
“Let’s go to a restaurant,” he suggested. “I’m hungry.”
“What?”
“You mentioned dinner afterwards.”
“Why? More of your dirty tricks?”
“No. I lust want to buy you a meal. What about the White Swan Hotel? It is quiet there, Ouyang’s told me. As for your time—”
“Don’t worry about that. Ouyang has paid for the whole day.”
“So the least I can do is pay for the lunch.”
He had saved enough to be able to afford this gesture, thanks to Ouyang, who had bought him so many morning teas and dinners.
“Why can’t we stay here?”
“Listen, I’m a cop,” he said, “but I’m a man too. If I stay here with you, just the two of us, I won’t be able to help feeling distracted.”
“So I’m not repulsive to you?”
“We need to have a good talk.”
“Fine, if that’s what you want.”
She got up and went into the bathroom without closing the door. Her robe fell to the floor in a heap around her feet, her bare breasts and hips were vivid in the mirror. He turned to the window.
When she came back, she had put on a white summer dress and slung a small purse over her shoulder. She did not wear a bra, so her nipples were almost imprinted on the dress. He considered asking her to put on something else, but he held the door open for her.
On the street, he noticed she kept looking back over her shoulder, as if anxious to make sure there was no one following them. There was actually a man walking behind them at a distance, but Chief Inspector Chen did not see why they would be followed.
The White Swan Hotel was a new building on the southeastern coast of Shamian Island. It was an immense white tower, like a transplant from Hong Kong across the water. There was a dazzling waterfall in the lobby. Several Western-style restaurants were located in the eastern wing of the building, and the Chinese restaurant was tucked behind the waterfall. There was a slender hostess standing at its entrance, smiling.
He was not going to indulge himself, but he felt obliged to spend some money. He did not like the idea of having Ouyang pay for everything, even for Xie Rong’s “service.” And he had to admit the so-called foot massage had been an exciting experience,.
They selected a private room—the Sampan Chamber. It proved to be a cozy room shaped like the cabin of a sampan on the Pearl River and decorated like one, too. The table and chairs were made of cedar—rough, unpolished, like those he’d seen in early black-and-white movies. The soft scarlet carpet on the floor was the only difference, but it was a necessary one, to give the customer a feeling of luxury. They could talk here without fear of being overheard.
A young waitress came in. She was wearing an indigo blue homespun top and a miniskirt, barefoot, with silver bangles jingling around her ankles, exactly like a fishing girl in the southern provinces—except for the menu in her hand.
He turned the menu over to Xie. She surprised him by choosing several inexpensive dishes, and shaking her head at one of the chefs specials—fish-fragrance-sauced pigeon—recommended by the waitress.
“No, it’s too expensive.”
“Anything to drink?”
“lust a cup of water for me.”
“Well, we’ll have two iced beers then.”
“You shouldn’t. They charge three or four times more than they should for drinks,” she added after the waitress had left, almost like a virtuous wife who wanted to save every penny. Good. Chief Inspector Chen was starting to worry about the expense.
“I thought you’d take me to the police station,” she said.
“Why should I?”
“Maybe you will.” She reached into the leather handbag, took out a cigarette, but did not light it immediately. “Sooner or later.”
“No, whatever you do, it’s not my business—not here. But I don’t think it a good idea for you to stay ... in that profession.”
“You are being genteel,” she said. “I do not like what you do either, but it is not so bad that I won’t have lunch with you.”
Smiling, she raised her glass toward him, relaxing as more dishes arrived on the table. The restaurant was known among Guangdong people for its excellent cooking.
At one point, their chopsticks crossed each other in an attempt to get hold of a large scallop on a bed of green snow beans.
“Please, you have it,” she said.
“It’s yours,” he said, “after all your work.”
The scallop looked like her big toe. White, soft, round.
She ate with relish, finishing four pancakes rolled up with roast duck and green onion, a bowl of shrimp dumplings, and almost the entire serving of beef tripe. He himself did not eat much but he put morsels in her saucer and sipped at his cup of Qingdao beer.
“Do you always eat this little?” she asked.
“I’m not hungry,” he said, afraid there would not be enough food for both of them.
“You are so romantic,” she said.
“Really?” That was a strange compliment, he thought, to a police officer.
There was something touching his knee under the table. As it slowly traveled up, he knew it was her bare foot. She had removed her shoes. He clasped her leg where it was thinnest, and his hand became an ankle bracelet, slipping down. The shape of her smallest toe, bending with the adjoining ones, was distracting him in a way beyond his comprehension. Gently, he put her foot down.
Confucius said, “To eat and to mate is human nature.”
“What about a special dessert?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
They shared segments of a Mandarin orange and sipped at the jasmine tea—compliments of the restaurant.
“Now I’m full,” she said. “You can start your questioning. But tell me first, how did you find me here?”
“Well, I had met your mother. She has no idea what you’re doing in Guangzhou. She’s so worried.”
“She’s always worried—all her life—about one thing or another.”
“She’s disappointed, I believe, that you did not take her path.”
“Her path, indeed?” she said. “Dear Comrade Chief Inspector, how can you go about investigating people without seeing the change in society? Who’s interested in literature anymore?”
“I, for one. In fact, I’ve read a collection of her essays.”
“I do not mean you. You’re so different, as Old Ouyang said.”
“Another of your bogus compliments?”
“No, I think so, too,” she said. “As for my mother, I love her. Her life’s not been easy. She got her Ph.D. in the United States. What happened to her when she came back in the early fifties? She was declared to be a rightist, and then a counterrevolutionary in the sixties. Not until after the Cultural Revolution was she allowed to teach again.”
“But she is teaching at a prestigious university.”
“Well, as a full professor at Fudan University, how much can she earn in a month? Less than what I made as a tourist guide for a week.”
“Money is not everything. But for a joke of fate, I might have studied comparative literature.”
“Thank heaven for that joke—whatever it was.”
“Life can be unfair to people—especially so for your mother’s generation—but we have reasons to believe that things won’t be so bad in the future.”
“For you, maybe not, Comrade Chief Inspector. And thank you for your political lecture, too,” she said. “I think it’s time that you start asking your questions.”
“Well, some may be difficult. But whatever you say will be kept confidential, I give you my word.”
“I’ll tell you whatever I know—after such a meal as you’ve just given me.”
“You had worked as a tourist guide before coming to Guangzhou.”
“Yes, I quit that job a couple of months ago.”
“On one of the Yellow Mountain trips, you met a man named Wu Xiaoming?”
“Wu Xiaoming? Oh yes, I remember him.”
“He had a girlfriend with him during the trip, hadn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, “but at first I did not know it.”
“When did you come to know this?”
“The second or the third day of the trip. But why, Comrade Chief Inspector? What makes me worth your trip to Guangzhou?”
“She was murdered last month.”
“What?”
He produced a picture out of his briefcase. She took it over, and her fingers holding the picture trembled.
“That’s her.”
“She was Guan Hongying, a national model worker, and Wu Xiaoming’s our suspect. So what you know about the two of them may be very important.”
“Before I say anything,” she said, looking into the glass in her hand, and then up at him, “I want you to answer a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you aware of his family background?”
“Of course, I’m aware of that.”
“Then why do you want to pursue the investigation?”
“It’s my job.”
“Come on, there are so many cops in China. You’re not the only one. Why are you so dedicated?”
“I’m ... a romantic cop, as you have said. I believe in justice. Poetic justice if you want to call it that.”
“You think you can bring him down.”
“We have a good chance. That’s why I need your cooperation.”
“Oh,” she said softly, “you really are special. No wonder Old Ouyang likes you so much. Now that you have answered my questions, I will answer yours.”
“What was your first impression of them?”
“I cannot remember exactly, but one of the first things I noticed about them was their assumed names.”
“How could you tell?”
“Wu registered for both of them in our office. He had to change a character stroke in his signature.”
“You’re very observant,” he said. “No one makes a mistake with his own signature.”
“What’s more, they registered as a couple, asking for a double room, but instead of showing their marriage license, he only provided me with a statement on official letterhead. Normally, it would be much easier to show the license.”
“I see.” He nodded. “Did you talk to your boss about your suspicion?”
“No, it was just an idea that crossed my mind. In the mountains, I noticed something else.”
“What’s that?”
“It was the second morning, I think. I happened to pass by their room. A perfect day, and everybody was having a wonderful time outside. I saw something like continuous flashing inside their room through the blinds. I felt curious—and a bit responsible too. So I peeped in. I was shocked to see Guan posing nude, on all fours, her legs wide apart, her forehead pressing against her forearms on the ground, like a kneeling dog. He was taking pictures of her. Now why should a couple come all the way to a mountain hotel room to take those pictures?”
“Um, you may have a point there,” Chen said. “Did you speak?”
“Of course not. But later Wu approached me.”
“How?”
“In his professional way, of course. He showed me the advanced equipment he carried in his camera bag. Imported pieces. Very expensive. There was also an album containing center-fold-size photographs of beautiful women, including a notorious actress, and some fashion models and some clippings from well-known magazines.”
“Why did he want to show all that to you?”
“He said that as a professional photographer, he was hot. These women were all eager to have pictures taken by him and published. And he offered to take pictures of me.”
“I see,” he said. “So you accepted his offer?”
“No, not at first. It made me sick, the sight of Guan kneeling at his feet like a groveling dog. Nor did I like the idea of posing for a stranger.
“Right, you cannot be too careful nowadays. What did he do then?”
“He showed me his business card. Only then did I come to know who he was—his real name. Of course, he told me about his family background. I asked him why he had chosen a nobody like me. He said he saw in me what he had never seen before. Lost innocence or something. With his photos, he might be able to introduce me to directors.”
“A trick he must have played with many people.”
“He also promised I could keep all the pictures. A set of fashion pictures taken at a studio on Nanjing Road would cost a fortune, but I would not have to pay him a penny.”
“Well, how was he as a photographer?”
“A real pro. He used up five rolls of film in the first hour. He kept changing the lighting and angles, and kept me changing clothes and poses, too. He said he wanted to capture my most beautiful moments.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“Before I knew it, he wanted me to pose with a towel around my body. He arranged the folds for me, adjusted my positions, and touched me here and there. One thing led to another, and to the bed. I think I’ll spare you the details.”
“So you were together quite a number of times?”
“No, only twice, if that’s what you mean. During the day I was busy, meeting all the customers’ requests. There were about twenty people in the group. And he could come to me only in the evening—only after Guan fell asleep.”
“And what was he like in bed?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sexually.”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes, details can be crucial in a case like this.”
“As far
as I could judge, he was just average, and me, too.”
“Can you try to be a bit more specific?”