by Qiu Xiaolong
“And all your knocking will make no difference. It’s not a matter of your having the guts. Those officials won’t talk to you, not without undeniable evidence, of which you have none.”
“It may sound like I’m quoting the People’s Daily, but corruption is a cancer of today’s society. We have to do something about it.”
“Well, the recent prosecution and execution of several senior officials may give you the impression that the CCP leadership is committed to this. With all the media operating under government control, however, self-policing may never be practical. It won’t work for a ruling party accountable to no one,” Yu said thoughtfully. “People say that anticorruption campaigns make a lot of thunder these days, and at first, quite a bit of rain too. Then still some thunder, but less rain. After a while, you won’t hear or see anything at all.”
Chen was surprised by Yu’s eloquence. Yu must have given serious thought to the issue. Earlier, much-propagandized campaigns had given people reason to suspect that most of the officials, especially those at the top, would manage to wriggle off the hook.
“It’s like a proverb, Yu. I haven’t seen you for a couple of days, and you talk like another man.”
“You’re a high-profile chief inspector,” Yu said, not responding to Chen’s comment. “It may only be another sign of the Party’s determination.”
“No, I don’t think so. The Party authorities are quite determined in this. For one thing, they have allowed reports about the case to be published in official newspapers. As Comrade Zhao said, corruption could develop ‘to such a serious extent that it will threaten the government.’ “
“Come on. At most, the discipline committee functions like a watchdog. The ultimate decision will be made in the interests of the Party. Whatever investigation is done, it’s still nothing but a show.”
“For me, it’s not a show, as you know.”
“And that’s why it can be so dangerous,” Yu said. “Have you heard the premier’s statement about one hundred coffins?”
“Yes, everybody has heard it.” The premier made it as a gesture of his determination. Knowing that it is impossible to do so, he still tried to do so because it’s what he should do. That was a Confucian statement Chen had learned from his late father. The premier had played an important role, Chen had heard, in pushing for this investigation.
“Even those on the top know it’s an impossible job,” Yu said.
Yu must have his reason to be so worried, Chen suspected. The pork skin no longer tasted crisp, but smoked carp head still made a palatable dish for the wine. He put a large piece of the fish cheek meat on top of Yu’s rice.
“We have done difficult and dangerous cases together before, Detective Yu, and you have never encouraged me to quit. What do you know?”
“There is one thing I have to tell you,” Yu said. “Hua Ting, a veteran cop in Fuzhou, died in a most mysterious way a couple of days ago- within a week after he had taken over the Xing case, a mission similar to yours.”
“Any foul play suspected?”
“As foul as you could imagine. His naked body was found in a prostitute’s room. An overdose of Chinese Viagra-according to the whore’s statement. Stories with such sordid details run like wildfire in tabloid newspapers there. My father, Old Hunter, does not believe it. He knew Hua for years. A family man, and an honest cop, Hua would have never done anything like that.”
“That’s the worst ending possible for a cop. His name tarnished, and he will never rest in peace.”
“Old Hunter discussed it with me and he wanted me to talk to you. You know what? He calls those crooked officials ‘red rats,’ with the barn of the Chinese society under their control.”
“That’s a superb metaphor.” But Chen did not want to push on. He refused to see the system as a barn run by and for red rats. “It reminds me of a fable written by Liu Zhongyuan, a Tang dynasty poet, about such a rat-ravaged barn. For a short period of time, people gave it up, so the rats relieved it was a world of their own. Then one man broke in, and all the rats, so fattened that they could hardly run, were killed in no time.”
“It’s a fable, Chief.”
“Old Hunter and you want me to think more carefully about accepting the job, I understand,” Chen said. “But I really have no choice.”
“Yes, Chief Inspector Chen?”
“You may well call me impossibly bookish or romantic, but when someone like Comrade Zhao says he considers me one of the few Beijing can trust in a difficult situation-as an emperor’s special envoy-what can I say? As Confucius said, ‘If people treat me as the man of the state, I have to live up to the expectation.’”
“I have not read the book.”
“But I will be careful. You may be right about it being possibly a show, and there’s no point in jumping headlong into the muddy river.”
“I didn’t think I could change your mind,” Yu said somberly, “but I had to tell you all that. Having said so, I am still your partner. If you want to work on the case, you have to count me in.”
“Thanks. I know I can always count on you,” Chen said. “But at this stage, it would be better for you to stay in the background.”
“How are you going to proceed?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll talk to the people on the list, I think.”
“It’s like touching the tiger’s tail,” Yu said, draining his cup.
And the tiger could bite.
3
AFTER HIS TALK WITH Detective Yu, Chief Inspector Chen decided to restudy his investigation plan.
Chen took out the folder again. There was one point made by several sources. Xing had made frequent trips to Shanghai, it was said, because of his mother. It was common knowledge in Fujian that Xing was a most dutiful son. His father had passed away when he was only three, and his mother had brought him up all by herself. About two years ago, Xing had bought her a mansion in Shanghai. Several months before fleeing overseas, he had moved her out to the United States. No one seemed to know, however, why, before that, the old woman had chosen to stay in Shanghai, with Xing being kept so busy in Fujian most of the time.
There was no ruling out the possibility of Xing having come here, Chen contemplated, for clandestine business under the pretext of filial piety. Shanghai had been transforming itself into one of the fastest-developing cities in the world. Xing could not have helped putting his capitalist fingers into the socialist pie.
The people Xing had contacted in Shanghai could be classified in two groups. Those with official positions, and those without. A majority were those met at parties and public activities. It was Xing’s style to have lavish receptions and banquets, with hundreds of people hand-shaking and business-card exchanging and connection building and bargain making above and under tables. But there were also a small number of people Xing had met behind closed doors, in VIP karaoke suites or private dining rooms. Those were not necessarily suspicious, though. Xing knew the necessity of cultivating connections even when there were no immediate business plans.
Chen did not mind, as an old proverb goes, looking for a horse in accordance to a map, but going through the people on the list, one by one, would probably take him months without getting him anywhere. Of course, he might still claim a conscientious job done with a long report to the committee, a report that would be shelved, dust-covered, and eventually shredded.
Instead, he decided to have a focus. A concentration on those with official positions possibly connected with Xing’s business, but not those necessarily high in rank. There was no hurry for the latter. Chief Inspector Chen had to make sure what role was assigned to him before throwing himself headlong into it.
So he took an extra step. He went to the bureau, locked himself in the computer room, and spent a whole day researching. There were only two computers in the bureau, and the chief inspector was one of the few with special access to them. There was one inconvenience: he could not smoke in the computer room and had to step out several times. A
t the end of the day, having plodded through an extensive background check of the possible targets, Chen settled on Dong Depeing, the standing Associate Director of Shanghai ’s State Industry Reform Committee, for the first potential breakthrough.
***
Early the next morning, Chen did more specific research. The Shanghai State Industry Reform Committee was an institution established in the developing economic reform. The committee played a crucial role in addressing the numerous problems facing state-run companies, studying and specifying new policies and practices for them. Like Chen, Dong was considered as an intellectual cadre, having obtained an MA degree in business. Xing had five or six meetings with Dong last year. What’s more, Chen had accidentally gotten something like a handle he could use on Dong. Chen had been looking for an apartment for his mother, so Mang Ke, one of his acquaintances in the real estate business, had recommended an area to him. Mang went out of his way, providing inside information about the area’s potential: a list of the properties bought by senior Party officials. Such purchases were an unmistakable message that the property value would soon rise because of city development project plans known only to these officials. Dong was one of them, listed not with an apartment but with a house-at a price way beyond the income for a Party cadre. That was why Chen remembered it. New homeowners like Dong could easily come up with stories about loans, but holes in those stories could be found as easily.
Chen contacted Zhu Wei, a reporter covering the real estate market for Wenhui Daily. When Chen explained his interest in learning about the properties purchased in Shanghai by city officials, Zhu sounded eager to cooperate. Zhu had already considered writing about the topic, but his boss had vetoed the idea.
“Do you know anything about the house purchased by Dong?” Chen said.
“Anything about Dong? He paid for the house all in cash without applying for a mortgage,” Zhu said. “Are you investigating something?”
“Oh no, I’m just curious. Someone told me that the property in that area is an incredible bargain, like Dong’s house there. I have been looking for an apartment for my mother.”
“It’s time for someone to touch these rotten Party cadres, Chief Inspector Chen. Have you seen those TV episodes of Judge Bao?”
“I read the Song dynasty stories long ago.”
“Have you thought about his popularity in the present-day China?” Zhu went on without waiting for an answer. “People have their hope in an incorruptible official like Judge Bao.”
“That’s true,” Chen said. He refrained from saying that the popularity of Judge Bao came from his being so exceptional, so unrealistic, simply substitutive of people’s collective fantasy.
***
In the afternoon, Chen set out to Dong’s office, which was in the Shanghai City Government Building located in the People’s Square.
Chen had been a visitor to the building numerous times. That afternoon, as the soldier saluted to him at the entrance, he still felt a surge of pride, despite his misgivings at the bathhouse, and despite Yu’s warning at his home. The chief inspector, now an emperor’s special envoy with an imperial sword, caught a Confucian statement resurfacing in his mind: A woman is willing to make herself beautiful for the one who likes her, and a man is ready to lay down his life for the one who appreciates him.
Dong’s office was rather an austere one. A short, stolid man in his late forties or early fifties, Dong rose to greet Chen with an air that bespoke awareness of his own position, and of Chen’s as well. Dressed in a well-ironed white shirt and black pants and wearing a pair of golden-rimmed glasses, he looked more like a scholar, and he surely spoke like one.
“Welcome, Chief Inspector Chen. You are an unexpected visitor that lightens up this small office.”
“Sorry for not having called you first, Director Dong. I had an earlier meeting in the building, so I thought I may as well drop in.”
“You don’t have to explain. You are welcome here anytime,” Dong said. “Have a cup of tea. You like good tea, I know, particularly Dragon Well from Hangzhou, but I have something different here.”
Dong put a little green ball into the cup, before pouring out an arch of water from a thermos bottle.
“Thank you,” Chen said, surprised by Dong’s knowledge. The tea did look quite different. The ball was expanding into something like petals in the water, and a red berry glistened like the pistil in the center. Then he saw a tiny thread: the leaves must have been bound together with the berry inside. “An exquisite tea. How do you know about my tea preference?”
“I still remember that essay in Wenhui Daily. I used to know that pretty reporter too, Wang Feng. She left for Japan. What a pity!”
The article in question was a humorous one published a long while ago. No one would have paid much attention to it. What Chen remembered of the article at all was because of the reporter, the image of whose green skirt was still fresh in his mind.
“You surely are well informed-”
“Well, people know a lot about you, our poet chief inspector. Someone just told me about your hongyan zhiji, not only in Beijing, but in the United States too.”
It came like a seemingly effortless blow delivered by a tai chi master: we know everything about you, so you ‘d better look out. Hongyan zhiji was a classical literary term meaning an attractive female friend who appreciates and understands you: not necessarily a girlfriend, but definitely with such a connotation-an archetypal dream for lonely, unappreciated scholars in ancient China. Tales about Chen and his friend Ling in Beijing might not be too surprising; Ling’s being an HCC-a high cadre’s child-certainly did not help. Representations of Chen as a political climber holding her hand actually impeded the development of their relationship. But the reference to his American hongyan zhiji was alarming. Chen had met Catherine Rohn, a U.S. Marshal in a joint investigation in Shanghai. They liked each other, but nothing really developed. In the Shanghai Police Bureau, no one had ever talked or joked about it, for such an affair would be politically sensitive for an emerging Party cadre like Chen. How could Dong have come up with all that?
Unless Dong, too; had made an exhaustive study of Chen. But the chief inspector had not made an appointment for his visit. He had planned to surprise Dong. Now Dong had more than surprised Chen.
“Come, Director Dong. People exaggerate in their gossip.” Chen tried to lead the talk back his way. “We cannot-in our positions.”
“You are right,” Dong said, nodding. “But in my position, I have to deal with all kinds of exaggerations. The problems for the state companies, for instance. The Party cadres harp on them all the time, in the hope that they can transform and be rid of the state ownership of their companies.”
“Yes, your work is quite new,” Chen said, “in the historical transition from the state economy to the market economy.”
“Are you working on an anticorruption case involving a state-run company, Comrade Chief Inspector Chen?”
“Yes, you are well-informed.”
“I merely guessed. A detective doesn’t come to my office for nothing.” Dong made a pause before going on. “About the corruption in today’s society, I have been doing a lot of thinking too. China has made a ‘great achievement’ in the last ten years. An achievement Western economists cannot explain. But have you ever considered its possible relation to corruption?”
“What do you mean, Director Dong?”
“Corruption may have facilitated our economic development in a large way. It’s a paradox, isn’t it?”
“I have not studied the issue. You are an authority on the new economic development.”
“Well, I have just read about it in an essay,” Dong said, pulling out an English magazine from the shelf, which covered one side of the room. There were titles Chen had never seen before. Several bookmarks stuck out of pages, as if showing the owner’s knowledge. “According to the author, China ’s success has been associated with an epidemic of corruption among local officials in charge of t
he economy. Why? The transformation of Party cadres from unproductive political entrepreneurs to productive economic entrepreneurs. But what pushed those cadres over the edge? A contradiction between the socialist system and the capitalist practice. The time-honored communist propaganda about Party members being selfless public servants of the people excludes explicit incentives and rewards for those cadres. Their incomes are still fixed and unrelated to their performance. Is that really fair? So some Party cadres see corruption as a sort of compensation, like in Western economies. That makes our fight against corruption much harder…”
This talk was turning out to be harder than Chen had expected. Dong launched into new theories, as if forestalling Chen from taking a more authoritative position. Indeed, Dong was not merely higher in the Party rank, but also more experienced in delivering the “Party talk.” Chen decided to come to the point directly.
“Your guess was correct. I am engaged in an anticorruption investigation. More specifically, an investigation of Xing Xing, and it’s directly under the Party Discipline Committee. I have some questions for you. Xing made several trips to Shanghai last year, and he met you a few times. Did he talk to you about his business activity here?”
“Xing, I see. He wanted to invest in a state-run company in Shanghai. It’s a new phenomenon in the economic reform and he saw a possibility of becoming the largest shareholder of the company. So he discussed it with me a couple of times.”
That made sense. Entrepreneurs were now allowed to buy into state companies. If Xing had been contemplating such, he would have come to Dong, an official as well as an expert on the subject.
“What advice did you give him?”
“I encouraged him to explore it further. Privatization will be ongoing. Of course, I did not know about his illegal business practices at the time.”
As anticipated, Dong would not really talk. He kept parrying as in tai chi, giving no opportunity for Chen to break in. Chen played his trump card.