by Qiu Xiaolong
“Yang left a novel manuscript, didn’t he?”
“It’s in English. According to Chief Inspector Chen, it is a novel like Doctor Zhivago, about the life of a Chinese intellectual in Mao’s years, but Internal Security has already snatched it.”
“You could have made a copy.”
“We didn’t have time. The minute we entered the bureau, Internal Security was there. They already seemed to know about it. And Party Secretary Li was on their side, of course. Chen had read only several pages in the restaurant downstairs-”
“What?”
“He insisted that I conduct the questioning of Bao all by myself- since it was my case-while he read the book in a small restaurant on the first floor. He did not come back until the interrogation was over. I suppose he could have made a copy without my knowledge.”
“Has he mentioned anything about the manuscript?”
“No, he hasn’t said a word about it.”
“He must have his reasons. I am not sure whether you should ask him about it,” Peiqin said thoughtfully. “Chen is a clever man. He may try to do something that could be risky.”
“You mean he doesn’t want to involve me in some risky business-with Internal Security lurking in the background.”
“Possibly. I cannot really tell,” she said, and changed the subject abruptly. “Oh, we will have a wonderful dinner tonight!” She was mincing shrimp for the tofu stuffing now.
“You don’t have to prepare so many dishes. We have no guests today.”
“You have proven to the bureau what a capable cop you are. It’s an occasion for celebration.”
“In fact, I was thinking about quitting the job, Peiqin, that morning at Old Half Place,” Yu said. “All these years, I’ve brought so little home. And you have had to work so hard, at the restaurant and at home. I might earn more for the family, I thought, if I could start some small business like Geng, or like LI Dong.”
“Come on, my husband. You have done such a great job as a cop. I’m proud of you,” Peiqin said. “Money is something, but not everything. How could you ever have had such an idea?”
“Thank you,” he said, without going on to say, but you once suggested it to me.
“Now I’m going to fry the ribs. The oil will splash all around. So go back to the courtyard. I’ll call you when the dinner is ready.”
There was another surprise in store for Yu-an unexpected visitor.
It was Cai, the cricket gambler, who had been released through Yu’s intervention. He stood on the threshold, carrying a bottle of Maotai in one hand and a huge live soft-shell turtle in the other. When he learned that Qinqin had to study for his test, Cai insisted on accompanying Yu out into the courtyard. “Your son is busy with his homework. That’s great. That’s the most important thing under the sun. If I had had a good education, my business would not have collapsed. Let us talk outside,” Cai said, leaving the presents with Peiqin before he clasped his fingers in a gesture of profound gratitude. “Comrade Detective Yu, I thank you.”
“I only did what a policeman should do. You do not have to thank me, and you should not have brought me those presents.”
“For such a great favor, it’s almost meaningless for me to say thanks,” Cai said sincerely. “The blue mountain and the green river will long, long remain and I will be forever in your debt.”
“Don’t overwhelm me with your triad jargon. I’m the policeman responsible for Yin’s case. You have nothing to do with the case, so why should you be kept inside?”
“If there were more cops like you, instead of like Old Liang, there would be much less trouble in the world.”
“Now that you are out, do something meaningful with your life, Cai. You cannot fight crickets forever. You have to think about your family. Your wife, Xiuzhen, has never wavered in proclaiming your innocence.”
“I’ll change as thoroughly as if I had washed my heart and replaced my bones. Yes, Xiuzhen is very good to me. She could have dumped me, but she did not. She came to me every day, bringing food made especially for me. I was wrong in believing that she had married me for my money.”
“Yes, when you are in trouble, you find out who really cares for you.”
“I still have some connections in today’s world. I will stage a comeback in the Eastern Mountains.”
“I have one question, Cai. When you were taken into custody, why didn’t you tell Old Liang about what you really did that morning? As I said, I’m only interested in the Yin murder case. No matter what you tell me, you don’t have to worry. It will be between the two of us.”
“I trust you, Comrade Detective. I was playing mah-jongg in a bathhouse that night, all night long. Mah-jongg is not gambling, everybody knows that. It’s just a game in which you have to put a little money down, otherwise it is no fun.
“But I was sentenced in the early seventies for gambling. So if I told Old Liang about it, he would have made a big fuss. In fact, he threatened to put me back in jail if he ever caught me betting on cricket fights in the lane.”
“I see. Mah-jongg or cricket fights, they won’t do you any good.”
“I give you my word, Comrade Detective Yu. I won’t waste this second chance. If my hand ever touches crickets or mah-jongg again, I swear to old heaven, may cancers grow all over my fingers. Believe me.”
“Okay. Then I have just one more question for you,” Yu said. “While you were in custody, Wan suddenly came forward, taking responsibility for a crime that had nothing to do with him. Do you have any idea why he did that?”
“It beats me. He may have lost his mind, for all I know or care. As a matter of fact, we had a fight not too long ago.”
“Was the fight about your family’s support?”
“Wan has no idea how much I give Xiuzhen’s family each month. And it’s none of his business either. That ugly old toad simply dreams of devouring the white swan.”
“What do you mean by that, Cai?”
“The way he looks at Lindi speaks volumes. He wants to please Lindi, but he has utterly lost his mind. He should pee on the ground and see his reflection in the pool.”
“Well-” Detective Yu remembered the scene of Wan sitting on a bamboo stool in the courtyard, doing nothing, watching while Lindi cut the spiral shells. “But I still do not see why he claimed that he was the murderer.”
“I have no clue,” Cai said.
“Mr. Cai, I have just put the turtle into the steamer,” Peiqin said in a loud voice from the kitchen area. “It took me a while to clean such a huge one. Please stay for dinner. The turtle will take just a little longer.”
“Thank you, Peiqin, but I’m afraid I have to leave. Xiuzhen will be worried if I don’t come back for dinner,” Cai said. “If there is anything I can do for you, Comrade Detective Yu, let me know. I will do my best, like a horse or a dog.”
Yu and Peiqin walked out with Cai to the lane exit.
“We have to wait a little while longer,” Peiqin told Yu. “The coal briquettes I made last week do not burn very well. It will take time to steam the turtle.” She wiped her hand on her apron, which bore fresh bloodstains.
“Oh, have you cut your hand?”
“No, those spots are turtle blood. Don’t worry.”
He didn’t know how long he would have to wait. He was a bit hungry. He phoned Mr. Ren to thank him sincerely for his tip about Wan, and then mentioned Cai’s comment regarding the ex-Mao Zedong Thought Propaganda Worker Team Member.
“I’ve not heard anything about Wan and Lindi,” Mr. Ren said. “People do not talk to me that much. But there’s no ripple without a breeze: one evening several months ago, I saw Wan pushing a bulging envelope into her hands.”
“Do you think Wan confessed for the sake of Lindi?”
“Well, Cai is the main support of the whole family. If Cai were sentenced and executed, the whole family would be ruined. So it could have been an act of romantic self-sacrifice-a rather twisted notion of it,” Mr. Ren said thoughtfully. “But I a
m not so sure. Wan is a bitterly disappointed old man. All the changes in today’s society may be too much for him.
“I can understand. In the early fifties, when my company had been taken away, together with the shikumen house, I thought it was the end of the world. I hung on because of my children. Wan is all alone here. For him, this might have seemed to be a good opportunity to end his agony in a politically dignified way, and at the same time make a last noble gesture to Lindi.”
“Yes, that makes sense now.”
“I’m so pleased with outcome of your investigation, Comrade Detective Yu. The real criminal has been caught. That is what justice is about,” Mr. Ren said. “By the way, the sticky rice cake at Peiqin’s place, Four Seas, is super. I went there yesterday. You know what, I must have met her father forty years ago. Indeed, in this world of red dust, things may be predestined.”
“I’m really glad we met you.”
“Next time, I’ll bring half a pound of xiao pork to her restaurant. You keep it in the refrigerator. You don’t have to go to Old Half Place. But you need good noodles. The pork is best with noodles in hot soup.”
“Next time I’ll introduce you to my boss, Chief Inspector Chen. Another gourmet. You two will have a lot to talk about.”
There did seem to be some mysterious correspondence in this world of red dust, as Mr. Ren had said. Yu still had the phone in his hand when Chen’s call came.
“I have talked to the city housing office,” Chen said in an urgent voice, “and there is a second-hand room available in the Luwan District. Twenty-four square meters, already partitioned in two. Sure, it’s not one of those fancy new apartments, but it is a shikumen room, and it’s practically in the center of the city.”
“Really!”
Yu was confounded by Chen’s choosing to talk about a secondhand room he had found listed by the city housing committee rather than about the case. Yu had long passed the stage, however, of being surprised by anything Chief Inspector Chen chose to do.
“I have made several phone calls, and from what I’ve heard, this is not a bad room.”
“A shikumen room-” Yu was not sure whether this was an alternative he should jump at. Admittedly, it seemed to be better than the one he now lived in: it was ten square meters bigger, and already partitioned. It would offer some sort of privacy for Qinqin. And Yu would not have to share the entrance with his father, Old Hunter. But there would be no bathroom or kitchen in such a room. And if he took it, he would never be able to get a new apartment from the police bureau.
“You can choose to wait, Detective Yu. As long as I am on the housing committee, I will certainly do my best for you. Next time the bureau gets a new housing quota, you will be at the top of the list, but-”
That part of the speech Yu had heard, many times, especially “at the top of the list,” and he knew Chen’s emphasis was really on the last word, “but,” and on what was not said. No one could tell about the next time, about some “unforeseeable” twist like the events that had supposedly occurred last time. Qinqin was already a big boy. How much longer could Yu afford to wait? After all, it would be a bird in the hand, a real apartment, unlike Party Secretary Li’s empty promises.
“Who knows if there will be a next time?” Yu said.
“Exactly. Housing reform may be inevitable in China but,” Chen said, quoting a proverb, “Once you have passed this village, you may not find another hotel.”
“I’ll think about it.” Yu said. “I have to discuss it with Peiqin.”
“Yes, discuss it with her. I’m thinking of buying a small room in the same area. In my opinion, it is a super area, with a lot of potential. It will be a small room for my mother; we may be neighbors there.”
“That would be great.”
Yu knew his boss too well. Chen usually had a reason for saying or not saying something, or for saying it in a roundabout way. With his connections, the chief inspector could be full of surprises.
“Let me know your decision as soon as possible.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks, Chief.”
Yu stood in the courtyard and lit another cigarette, crumpling the empty pack, as he started thinking about the second-hand room in earnest.
After all, there was one advantage living in a shikumen house. The courtyard. If they had moved into an apartment in Tianling New Village, where could he smoke like this?
“Dinner is ready,” Peiqin said.
“I’m coming,” Yu said.
After dinner, he was going to tell her about that second-hand room. Perhaps he should repeat Chen’s comments, word for word. Sometimes Peiqin was quicker than he in reading hidden messages, as in the investigation of Yin’s case. He really should be proud of her, he kept telling himself as he opened the door. But first he would enjoy a good dinner. There was a steamed soft-shell turtle on the table.
“Turtle is especially good for a tired, middle-aged man,” she whispered in his ear.
It was a huge, monstrous turtle. With its head cut off and its shell strewn with sliced ginger and chopped scallions, it filled the small room with a dreamlike aroma.
Qiu Xiaolong
***
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