In reality, he had his tea back at the office. And not Dragon Well tea, either, which could be expensive-not to mention the fact that, more often than not, what was sold as Dragon Well tea was fake. He made a point to purchase his tea through folks at his old home village. It wasn’t a well-known tea-and it wasn’t much cheaper-but at least it was real tea.
Chen hadn’t bumped into Old Hunter at random, that much the old man could guess. They had better go off to a quieter place. Not here, nor back at Zhang Zhang’s office.
So five minutes later, he led Chen across the street, to the back room of the teahouse, which had once been a neighborhood hot-water shop. The owner, Mai, was in his early seventies, and he kept his business running in the hopes that if the old neighborhood was razed like so many others, he might get a large payoff as compensation. The back room consisted of nothing but a folding canvas bed for Mai’s napping needs, a table, and a couple of chairs. Old Hunter took over the back room by the simple expedient of pushing a ten-yuan bill into Mai’s hand. With the door shut, and a sign reading “Closed for Business” hung up front, the two ex-cops had their privacy, and their tea, if nothing else.
“The tea is not that good,” Old Hunter said with a self-depreciating chuckle, “but you can have all the hot water you want for free.”
“How is the PI business?” Chen asked, after taking a sip.
“Not too bad, but it’s nothing truly exciting. I’m doing it more to prove I’m still alive and kicking than anything else. I’ve read those mystery novels you translated. Those private investigators, Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot, have real cases. But here, the profession itself exists only in the gray area-it’s not legally permitted in this socialist society of ours. According to the People’s Daily, if you have any problems, you’re supposed to go to the ‘people’s police.’ And they will take care of them for you. Unless your problems are something you can’t let the government know about, and therefore can’t go to the police for help with. Then you really have problems.
“In the final analysis, the cops work for the Party system, and private investigators work for their clients. That’s why even the term ‘PI’ is still taboo in the official media.
“That’s why it is necessary for our agency to operate under a different name. The sign at the office says, ‘Consulting and Investigating.’ Consulting covers a broad range of activities. We’re not licensed private investigators, but we’re not illegal either.
“In short, it’s like the names of those sex-service operations. You may call it a hair salon, a karaoke club, a foot-washing place, or whatever you like, as long as it’s not about what the place really does. Last year, I planned to attend a PI convention in Hangzhou, but at the last minute, the convention had to change its name and cancel most of the sessions. Internal Security was going to be there, so I changed my mind.
“Of course, I don’t have to tell you about these regulations. They are government-imposed, and then, as a consequence, self-imposed as well. One guideline we have in the office, we try not to accept cases involving Party officials. No matter what evidence we come up with, the authorities will never accept it. And Internal Security might come knocking on our door the very next day. The old proverb put it well; ‘All the ravens are equally black under the sun, and officials protect and shield one another.’”
“You’re a walking encyclopedia of proverbs, Old Hunter, but that one sums it up well.”
“We also can’t do anything if there’s an ongoing police investigation-or even if the official media just says there’s an investigation.”
“Well, Confucius says, there are things a man will do, and things a man will not do. There are things a PI can do-like change one or two words in the name to keep your agency open-and things a PI can’t do. But my question is, how can your agency manage to operate when it’s burdened with such a long ‘can’t-do’ list?”
“Exactly, Chief. It can be really tough. But it’s not my agency. I’m only a part-time helper, so I don’t think I have to-” Old Hunter caught himself abruptly. Why the sudden interest in the agency? He paused, then decided there was nothing wrong with describing the work in general terms. “Well, most of this industry is kept afloat by one particular lucrative niche market: you might not have a customer for three months, but then one customer might make you enough to keep going for three years.
“What’s that lucrative niche? Now, I don’t want to tantalize you as though I were a Suzhou opera singer. Simply put, it’s the old practice of cheater-catching. Particularly when the cheaters are Big Bucks. As another ancient proverb goes, ‘When you’re luxuriously fed and clad, you can’t help but dream lustfully.’” Old Hunter took a long, deliberate sip at the tea before going on. “There’s no need for a lecture about the national moral landslide-our premier used those words not long ago. Today’s Socialism with Chinese characteristics has room for many rich and powerful cheaters. Their wives spare no expense to save their marriages-or, failing that, to extract the maximum alimony from them in their divorce. So suspicious spouses are willing to pay us quite a handsome fee to bring them the evidence they need.”
“Tell me more about it, Old Hunter. You’re so experienced. As they say, older ginger is spicier. Zhang Zhang must depend on your expertise for these operations.”
“For that sort of business, the clients want you to go to these notorious sex-service places and watch, waiting with all the patience you can muster, and from time to time, pretend to enjoy foot-washing or hair-washing like an old idiot. It’s a shame that a retired cop has to resort to such, but to catch those red rats wallowing in money-millions and billions-it’s what you have to do. Naturally, just a picture of the cheater in the company of a girl-with both still dressed, if only barely-may not be enough proof. In those cases, you may have to install a hidden camera to get the photos that are required. We always do a careful risk assessment before taking a job. The fee may not be worth the trouble.
“Some wives know better than to bother if their husbands just have fun on the sly. As a proverb in Dream of the Red Chamber goes, ‘What cats are not keen on stealing fish?’ What those wives can’t stomach, however, are ernai-secondary concubines. If the husband is keeping a mistress with her own upscale apartment, paying for her expenses and all the luxuries on the side, well, that is too much. For cases like this, we have to go out of the way-”
“For wives to fight ernai?”
“Sometimes. Though it’s not just the out-of-favor wives who hire us: the ernai come to us for help, too. Unlike concubines in the pre-1949 era, Socialism with Chinese characteristics doesn’t acknowledge the existence of ernai or grant them any status. Once their men find younger, prettier replacement ernai, they will lose everything. To survive, they have to fight back by any means possible, even threatening and blackmailing their former lovers. That can be very effective, since official propaganda invariably portrays Party cadres as Communist saints. If photos and details were posted online, proving that a cadre kept a spicy ernai, that official would be removed from office, even disavowed.”
“I could work as a private investigator too!” Chen interjected.
“It’s a lot like those old detective movies from the thirties. The one difference is that you don’t have to carry around a bulky camera. You can take all the pictures you need with a light cell phone, all the while mumbling into it on and on, pretending to talk to someone. That way you don’t attract attention from anyone. Still, sometimes you have to wait patiently for hours, even days. And you have to know where to wait.”