The Cook, the Crook, and the Real Estate Tycoon

by Liu Zhenyun

  “It’s not too easy.”

  “You’ve got it.” Cao looked at the bird and nodded.

  Baldy Cui put the money away and turned back to watch TV, while Liu spoke into the shed to the bird and Cao:

  “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  12

  Qu Li

  Yan Ge found Qu Li.

  She had been in Beijing all along, and Yan knew that. If he’d wanted to find her, he could have done it any time after she left, but he pretended he could not so he could put on an act of continuing the search. He knew her whereabouts because his driver had her driver in his pocket, or put more accurately, under his control. Qu Li’s driver was Yan’s mole.

  Her driver, Lao Wen, had taught Little Bai, Yan’s driver. Back when Wen was driving a truck for the Beijing Automated Lathe Factory, Bai had been his assistant and later landed the job of Yan’s chauffeur, thanks to Wen’s recommendation. Yan Ge had a stud farm in a southern suburb where Bai had been sent to tend horses when he first arrived. By then the lathe factory had closed. Bai liked the job because he made more feeding Yan’s horses than working.

  Among the horses Yan kept was a Dutch mare called Stephanie, a gentle and highly intelligent animal that was his favorite. If he said fast, she galloped; if he said slow, she loped. He spoke and she reacted. The understanding between man and horse reminded Yan of times in bed with certain women. Horses and women of that caliber were rare, in his view.

  He had been drinking before coming out with friends to ride around the farm on the day of the Dragon Boat Festival three years earlier. Some fighter planes from a nearby airbase were circling the air above them, and no one paid them any attention, until one went into a steep dive and buzzed the farm, trailing red smoke and flattening the grass. The riders were shocked, but Stephanie was the only horse that was spooked, and by the smoke, not by the airplane itself.

  It was partially Yan’s fault for not putting on blinders like all the others; he’d thought the mare was so gentle there was no need for it. She charged Yan’s friends and their mounts. Some riders were too dazed to act; others jumped out of their saddles and fled to the stable. Even the trainers froze, having no experience dealing with a spooked horse. All but Little Bai, who was chopping grass in the stable. He ran out and grabbed Stephanie’s reins. She dragged him along the ground but he refused to let go. The horse kept running and dragging him, until with a “bam” he slammed into a tree and the horse stopped. Bai suffered four broken ribs and spent three months in the hospital. When he was discharged, he no longer tended horses. He was now Yan’s driver.

  Forty-eight-year-old, Hubei-born Wen stayed in Beijing after being discharged from the army. A generous man who was always ready to lend a helping hand, he was not obsessed with money; he did, however, have a huge appetite for sex, had since he was young. At the lathe factory, he’d gotten involved with the bookkeeper and received a split lip from the woman’s husband.

  Soon after starting out driving for the Yan family, he began a secret dalliance with one of their maids, a young woman from Anhui who had stolen some of Qu Li’s jewelry the previous spring over the period of a month. No common jewelry, the rings, necklaces, and earrings were all studded with gemstones—a sapphire in a ring, an emerald in a necklace, diamonds in earrings, altogether worth tens of thousands.

  Since the maid lived in the house, she had no place to hide the stolen goods; she asked Wen to take them, but he was opposed to the thefts, for fear of being found out. Ignoring his advice, the maid told him that Qu Li had so much jewelry she’d never miss these few pieces.

  Unable to talk her around, Wen took the jewelry home and hid it behind the heating grate. A month later, when Qu Li could not find some of her jewelry, she suspected the maids, but wasn’t sure which of the three had stolen it. Nothing was found when their rooms were searched, and the matter was dropped.

  The day before National Day, Wen’s wife found the jewelry while cleaning house. Knowing nothing about jewelry, she thought they were fakes from night market stalls. In fact, she didn’t care whether they were real or not. All she knew was that they were women’s jewelry, which meant that her husband was having another affair and had bought the jewelry for his new woman. She was right, but not completely, and screamed at him when he got home that night. He had no way of coming clean, which angered her even more. She smashed the pieces along with their TV set.

  Little Bai had the habit of paying his teacher, Lao Wen, a visit every year on the eve of National Day, a ritual he’d developed back when they worked at the factory. He arrived with a case of soft drinks and a fruit basket, only to be greeted by a domestic fight. The shattered jewelry on the floor told him everything he needed to know, but he feigned ignorance and went home after trying to smooth over the situation.

  The next day he told Yan everything in the car. It wasn’t his intention to betray his teacher, but he was savvy enough to know who, between Yan and his teacher, would be more useful to him. Besides, Bai was worried that Wen’s wife might raise a stink, and once Yan Ge and Qu Li got wind of it, they’d figure he was in on it too. Wen had gotten him the job, so it was to Bai’s advantage to bring it up with Yan first, thinking his boss would be upset and fire Wen.

  That did not happen; instead, Yan told him not to mention it to anyone and to pretend that nothing had happened, leading Bai to assume that Yan was being charitable to a man who had worked for him for so long. Bai thought Yan wanted to give Wen a chance to make amends; he could not have been more wrong. Yan simply wanted to use this opportunity for Bai to have Wen in his pocket, to control him, as it were.

  To be more precise, Wen was Qu Li’s driver, and could serve as Yan Ge’s eyes and ears where his wife was concerned. He would be informed of her movements through Wen and then Bai. Originally he’d only wanted to know where she was at all times so he could carry on with his other women. What a pleasant surprise to find other uses as well.

  “The ancients were right when they said that helping others is helping yourself,” he announced emotionally. “That’s why the great retainer of old, Meng Changjun, made friends with small-time crooks.”

  Bai thought he understood, but wasn’t sure, but that didn’t matter. As long as his boss was happy, he’d keep his job.

  Qu Li had thought no one but her driver knew where she’d been the past three days, since she’d told Wen not to tell anyone. He disobeyed her by calling Bai, who relayed the information to Yan Ge. Yan, on his part, pretended he didn’t know, and continued the search, with two purposes in mind: one, he wanted to know exactly what she had in mind while buying himself time; and two, he needed that time to deal with Director Jia and Lin. Based on reports he received, Qu Li had gone to eight places in three days, including hotels, friends’ houses, the suburbs, and some spas, sometimes during the day and other times at night.

  “Who did she see?” Yan asked.

  “She always told Wen to wait outside, so he doesn’t know.”

  Yan grew suspicious at the reports, not about her going to see people, but about the purpose of these visits, which seemed to have nothing do with the pop singer. Qu Li had left home because of that photo, but she might be plotting something unrelated now. Not being able to figure out what she had in mind unnerved him.

  The Qu Li surveillance came up empty, and the matter with Jia and Lin hung in the air. Yan hadn’t heard from Director Jia after showing his hand to Lin over the USB drive, even though, as he knew, Lin would tell Jia all about their meeting in the hotpot restaurant. Lin had conveyed an attitude of indifference when he tossed the USB drive into the pot of boiling water, but Yan was sure he was just acting tough. Director Jia had wasted no time in sending Lin to meet with Yan after seeing the photo, and would be utterly shocked once he learned about the USB drive.

  Yet Jia had remained silent after the existence of the drive was revealed. Yan was aware that the revelation of the USB drive carried different consequences than the exposure of the pop singer. The latter would
hurt Jia’s reputation—a mere sex scandal at most, no permanent injuries. But the USB drive could inflict mortal damage. Jia would not sit idly by and let things spiral out of control.

  Before their relationship soured, Yan had often invited Jia out for a round of golf. During one game, Jia needed a bathroom break, so Yan offered to drive him over in a golf cart.

  “No need to trouble you,” Jia said.

  Instead, he walked off a few steps, turned his back, opened his fly, and began pissing on the grass. Forced to do the same, Yan became Jia’s urinating companion, and was treated to an impressive sight. After holding it in for some time, Jia released a strong, muddy, smelly stream that was characteristic of an older man, yet different from other older men in that it was powerful and bold, signaling to Yan that beneath Jia’s mild appearance was a ferocious quality. This experience made Yan aware that he was too inexperienced to be a worthy opponent to Jia.

  In a way, the ball was now in Director Jia’s court, and all Yan could do was wait for him to hit back. It had never been his intention to cause mutual destruction, and the only reason he brought up the singer and the USB drive was to repair their relationship. Spinach was Yan’s food of choice whenever he was on edge, like hamburgers were for Qu Li; he gobbled the stuff up till his belly bulged, releasing the tension and letting him breathe again. Hamburgers, of course, were fattening; spinach was not.

  On this day, Yan was eating spinach and, before the relief came, he received a call from Little Bai, telling him that Qu Li’s driver had just told him that she was at the bank.

  Yan jumped up from the sofa at the news. Banks were tied to money, and her trip to the bank meant something different than her visits to friends. Finally understanding what she had been planning, Yan knew he could no longer pretend to search for her. He told Bai to get the car ready and take him to the bank, where he intercepted her. It had only been three days since he’d last seen her, but she’d changed. She had been the impulsive type, someone who could get into a fight with a beautician.

  Now, however, faced with her husband’s lies and infidelity, she was able to keep her cool. Instead of blowing up, she was gentle, more civilized. She appeared to have lost weight also, a change that puzzled him more than her new attitude, though she did not seem surprised or cross to see him.

  “We need to talk,” Yan said.

  Wordlessly, she pointed to a coffee shop nearby, so they went in and sat down. Yan knew he could not rely on his usual vague insincerity. So, rubbing his hands, he told her everything about the pop singer and ended with:

  “I don’t have feelings for women like that.” Then he added:

  “It was all an act, and I left when it was over. We weren’t an item and I never spent a night at her place.”

  He’d thought she would erupt in anger again, which was what he had hoped for, because then they’d be able to focus on the pop singer and talk it out, even if she was irate, until they patched things up. But she didn’t fall for it; she did not seem irked, and in fact appeared not to care at all, as if she’d been listening to someone else’s sex-capade. Obviously, her mind was elsewhere, which, to him, was a ray of hope in turning things around. Imagine his surprise when she came straight to the point. Stirring her coffee with a silver spoon, she said with her head down:

  “Stop talking about your women, Yan Ge. Our problems are worse than that.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she seemed able to breathe more easily once she’d gotten that out. Like smashing an object or splashing water on the ground, nothing was salvageable now that the truth was out. She had laid her cards on the table, and Yan knew he had to follow suit and change tactics.

  “You’re preparing a way out, aren’t you?” Yan pointed to the bank.

  “Like they say, husband and wife are birds in the same forest, but when disaster strikes they fly off in different directions for safety.”

  Astounded, Yan began to suspect that she had been faking her depression all these years.

  13

  Liu Yuejin

  Liu Yuejin suffered a cracked head during a fight. Wrapped in a bandage, it presented a sight similar to Han Shengli of a few days ago, under a baseball cap with a fake logo. If it had been anyone else at any other time, he would not have let the man off so easily, but it had been someone from Brother Cao’s duck shed, and in the end it didn’t matter, as he had to find his pack as soon as possible; he could not afford to argue with the one who hit him.

  As he was leaving the shed with Han that day, after asking Brother Cao for help in finding Liu’s pack, they had agreed that they would return the following evening to see if there was any news. But by the following afternoon, Liu had hatched a scheme to get rid of Han, so he went to the shed by himself. Cao’s style and authority had convinced him that, once Cao said yes, he would have no trouble recovering his pack.

  As a middleman between Cao and himself, Han was no longer needed now that Liu had made the connection. Besides, with his cataracts and blurred vision, Brother Cao reminded him of his uncle. And Han had displeased Cao, who struck him as a decent man for interceding when Baldy Cui insisted that Liu pay him the full finder’s fee, even knowing that Liu did not have that much money.

  If Han was present when he retrieved his pack, Liu would have to follow through on their agreement and pay him the money he owed, plus a percentage of the sixty thousand yuan. But Liu had other plans for the money—his son had called again to say he had been kicked out of school for not paying his tuition after the three-day deadline. Liu had doubts that he was telling the truth, but the boy did sound earnest, so this time he mustn’t delay.

  When the pack was missing, paying Han seemed reasonable, but once it was within reach again, Han would not deserve the money, in his view. He’d pay Han back sooner or later, just not right away. So instead of waiting till evening, he showed up at the shed in the afternoon.

  This time no duck was meeting its death. There was a whole gang of people there, playing mahjong with Brother Cao while Hong Liang, the fat boy who was killing ducks the day before, was serving tea. A meticulous person in everything he did, Cao was a serious player; so were the others. He held each tile up close to study and took his time to make a move, slowing the game down. That was one sign of his earnest approach. Another was, no idle talk around the table, which was littered with bills of various denominations. Liu waited at the door. When a round ended and he heard sounds of tile shuffling, he called out:

  “Brother Cao.”

  Cao looked up but could not see Liu’s face clearly. It was also a new voice.

  “Who’s that?”

  “The one who lost his pack. I came with Han Shengli yesterday.”

  When Liu stepped inside, Cao recalled who he was.

  “Oh, you. Sorry, we couldn’t find the thief.”

  Having come filled with hope, Liu would have fallen to the floor from the news if not for the doorframe he held onto. A lost pack meant nothing to Cao and his people, but for Liu the news was devastating. Dazed, he tried to think and, as he was lost in his own thoughts, he said what was on his mind, instead of what he should have said:

  “He’s one of yours, how could you not find him?”

  Just as the day before, when Han had said that every thief on the street worked for Cao, the man was not pleased, but he merely frowned and said nothing. Noticing Cao’s expression, Baldy Cui yelled at Liu:

  “Have you got your head screwed on straight? The man’s got feet, so how are we supposed to find him so fast?”

  Still thinking his own thoughts, Liu said:

  “I handed over the earnest money for nothing, then, didn’t I?”

  Then a thought struck him.

  “Could it be that you’ve found him and you’re hiding the pack from me?”

  And then:

  “I don’t care if the money’s gone, but you have to give me the other stuff.”

  Liu’s lack of tact made Cao sigh. Still not responding to Liu, he said to the people ar
ound the table:

  “I made another mistake.”

  Bewildered by his comment, they looked at him nervously.

  “Confucius said, petty men and women are hard to deal with.”

  The others were still confused.

  “I’m not going to help anyone from now on. Every time I do I make people unhappy.”

  Now they got it, though it really didn’t matter if they had or not. The most important matter for them was the realization that Brother Cao was upset, self-reflection being a peculiar habit of his whenever he was angry. Baldy Cui leaped up from the table, ran to the door, and kicked Liu.

  “What kind of fucking talk is that?”

  The attack caught Liu in his stomach, catching him off guard and sending him to the floor. He landed on his back, overturning a basket full of duck feathers, which flew into the air and quickly blanketed the shed. On any other day, he would not have fought back after such a kick, but judgment failed him now that he had no hope of getting his pack, his money, and the IOU back. With a sudden infusion of courage, he got up from the pile of feathers and, ignoring Baldy Cui, picked up a knife, jumped forward and waved it at the people around the table.

  “I’ve lost everything. Do you know what that means?”

  They froze, surprised by Liu’s reaction and attitude, not out of fear of the knife, since they were used to those, both to slaughter ducks and to fight other gangs. Brother Cao frowned as he pushed the tiles away and walked out of the shed. Unhappy that Liu had ruined not only a game of mahjong but Brother Cao’s mood, Baldy was about to kick Liu again when another player, a fat fellow, beat him to it and first kicked the knife out of Liu’s hand before landing a flying kick in the abdomen. Despite his bulk, the man was light on his feet; with two swift kicks, Liu flew into the air before landing by the table where ducks were slaughtered. He banged his head on a corner of the table; the sight of his own blood sobered him up; he quietly curled up on the floor, buried his face in his hands, and began to cry over the injustice.