“He must have paid her a lot.”
“At the company, her pay was appropriate to her position as a secretary. To give the devil his due, Liu at least tried to keep up appearances.”
“Well, whatever he was worth, it could have eventually been all hers. For her, it would have been only a matter of time.”
“She might not have been so sure about that. If a little secretary doesn’t turn into a Mrs. in a year or two, then a little secretary she’ll remain. The boss may have all kinds of reasons to do or not to do something. How much Liu gave her in private was, of course, another story.”
“That’s a very good point,” he said. “But what about Mrs. Liu? She knew about Liu’s evening plans, right?”
“I don’t know, but she knew about the little secretary Liu kept there-”
The sampan swayed and she lurched forward, her hand touching his shoulder for support.
“Now tell me about your argument with Liu. It was about a week before his death, I heard.”
“You’ve heard a lot, Chen. We argued several times. For Liu, profit was more important than everything else. That’s what had made him-and not just as a general manager but as a much-propagandized representative of China’s economic reform. It probably would have to be a top priority to keep up production at whatever cost for anyone in his position. But I had to do my job as an environmental engineer.”
“You did the right thing.”
“But that day, about a week ago, he snapped and started shouting at me in his office. People must have heard our argument.” She added softly, after a pause, “I don’t want to speak ill of him now that he’s dead.”
A short silence ensued. Another fish jumped out and fell back in, splashing. The boat was probably in the middle of the lake.
“That’s the Wuxi Number One Chemical Company,” she said abruptly, pointing to their left. “Over there, I can show you something in the water.”
“Move over there,” Chen called, rising to give the order to the sampan man.
“There?” The sampan man looked puzzled. It was far from any scenic sights, and no tourist would be interested going there. But the sampan went there as instructed.
“Let’s stop here for a while,” Shanshan said to the sampan man. Turning to Chen, she said, “Take a close look at the water here.”
Already Chen could see a difference in the color of the water close to the chemical company. But it was more than that. An immense expanse of the water was covered in something like a heavy blackish-green shroud. It was substantial, almost solid, and stretched far into the distance. He hadn’t seen anything like that in the Huangpu River in Shanghai or, for that matter, in any other river.
“Do you see something over there that looks like a dam, Chen?”
“Yes, what’s that for?”
“This horrible green mess might be permissible here since no visitors come around, but it wouldn’t be allowable near the park, and definitely not near the center. So the dam is designed to keep tourists like you from seeing this.”
She spoke less reservedly today than she had before, about the problems and about the people responsible for them. After the detention she had suffered, Chen reflected, that was understandable.
He knew that her history with the company might make her not such a reliable source for the investigation, though he chose not to believe that.
“What you see here is not the worst of it,” she went on. “A couple of miles up, it is even worse.”
“I just read an article in the newspaper which claimed that green algae might be a longstanding problem for the lake.”
“How can you believe what’s written in those Party newspapers? They would never trace back the ecological disaster to industrial pollution. In the past, you might see a small green patch here or there in the lake, and occasionally the water would be too rich with nutrients because of the weather, but it didn’t affect the quality of the water for the whole lake. Nothing like this.”
She was speaking fervently, as if to justify her work. There was no need for it, certainly not for him. He knew she was doing the right thing. So he tried to say something to lighten the moment.
“I’m no expert,” he said, “but the water reminds me of a Tang dynasty poem about the south: the spring water ripples bluer than the skies, reclining / against a painted barge, / I fall asleep, listening to the rain. The lake water turns green, more or less naturally, with the arrival of spring. In a way, you might call that poetic.”
“You really think so?”
Then she did something totally unexpected. She shifted to the side of the boat and put her feet into the water.
He didn’t know why she suddenly chose to dangle her feet here, her white ankles flashing above the darksome, smelly water. He leaned over, her long black hair straying across his cheek. Watching, he wondered whether he should do the same, and he bent over to undo his shoelaces. But she was already pulling her feet out of the water. They were covered with a layer of green grime, as if painted: wet, slimy, and sticky.
“Would you call that poetic?”
“You didn’t have to do that, Shanshan.”
He grabbed one of her feet and tried to find a handkerchief. He ended up wiping the algae off with a small packet of paper napkins, which turned out not to be an easy job. His hands quickly got smeared too.
He couldn’t claim it was poetic for him, but even so, it was almost surreal, yet touching. Her bare soles yielding in his hands, her soft toes flexing against his clumsy fingers, she seemed inexplicably vulnerable. He had known her for only a couple of days, with his identity as a chief inspector unrevealed to her.
But she had proved her point. And she had done so in a way he had never read about in classical poetry.
“Let’s go back,” he said to the sampan man.
“Where?”
“To the Wuxi Cadre Recreation Center.”
“Wow!” the sampan man said, with a puzzled expression on his face when he noticed the grime on her feet and on Chen’s hands.
“You want to go back?” She, too, looked up at him in surprise.
“I am no expert like you, Shanshan. But I don’t think exposure to the chemicals will do you any good. You have to wash off your feet with clean water.”
“I appreciate your offer, but you don’t have to worry,” she said, shaking her head.
He also shook his head, resolutely.
They remained sitting like that for a long while, not speaking, her feet still in his hands.
The sampan man began to exert himself, looking over his shoulder from time to time.
The center’s fence at the foot of the hill came into view.
“Pull over,” Chen said, “we want to get off here.”
“Here?” the sampan man repeated, not seeing a dock or an entrance.
Chen had him row the sampan over to something like a landing near the concealed door in the fence.
“I know a shortcut. We can get in through there,” he said and paid the sampan man generously. “It’s for the full day, as we agreed, plus fifty for the boat meal and a tip for the boat songs. Is that enough?”
“More than enough, sir. Thank you so much. But you’re from the center, so it’s little wonder. Sorry that I was so blind as not to recognize Mount Tai.”
It was an old proverb, often used to describe one’s failure to recognize people of high status or importance.
Chen helped Shanshan to the shore and carried her shoes, which she didn’t immediately put back on. The ground was gritty against her bare soles, and she leaned slightly against his shoulder for a minute. He pointed at the villa glittering in the afternoon sunlight.
“That’s where I am staying.”
“Oh, that looks like a villa.”
“Yes, let’s go there. You can wash your feet and we can have a drink.”
“No, not today,” she said, looking down at her feet. “What a sight I would be for your high-cadre center.”
“In classical Chinese literature, there is an expression about ‘walking lotus flowers,’ which refers to a beauty walking barefoot. So what’s wrong with that?”