What happened between the two of them seemed to be one of those old, yet always new, stories.
He told her that she didn’t have to perform anymore-she didn’t need the money, but she still went to the restaurant once a week. He was a busy official, so when he wasn’t around, she worked on recording the CD of Tang poems as part of her research into Suzhou opera.
But that phase of the relationship didn’t last very long. While S. tolerated her continuing to perform, he no longer brought foreign groups to the restaurant. He said that some people were already starting to gossip, and it was getting difficult to see her as much as he would have liked.
So he proposed that she move back to Suzhou. There he would visit her whenever possible, and they wouldn’t have to worry about being recognized. He bought an apartment for her there, and instead of a research subsidy through his department, he gave her a monthly allowance. Suzhou had more important appeal for her: she still had her position in the opera ensemble, and she hoped she might be able to do something more for the opera there. Not to mention the fact that she would be closer to her parents.
She accepted the seemingly reasonable arrangement, but she soon realized that it was something else entirely. He cared for his career more than he cared about anything else, and he wasn’t exactly separated from his wife, who was in the United States with their son while he attended private school. But what could an ex-Suzhou opera singer do? Still, Suzhou held something unexpected for her-a new Suzhou opera club, whose members were devoted fans, and to which she was a welcome addition.
Then she started to notice that S. had changed. He didn’t seem to be that crazy about her anymore. One evening, he even joked that when she was singing in her mandarin dress in Shanghai, she was animated with an irresistible glow, but here in Suzhou, she looked like any ordinary Suzhounese.
Shortly afterward, she found out that he had a new conquest in Shanghai, who was apparently younger and prettier. Qian was devastated by the realization that he’d sent her back to Suzhou to get her out of the way. Yet he still continued to come see her, though less and less, and to provide for her just as handsomely as ever.
Another devastating blow came from her parents. Initially, they were confused by the fact that she’d come back to Suzhou without a job, yet with very comfortable means. When they found out about the ernai arrangement with S., they refused to step into her apartment again.
Then an opportunity presented itself. The American professor who’d been part of the first group led by S. offered her a spot in his university’s Asian studies program. He even offered her a tuition waiver, so that all she’d need would be the money to support herself. He suggested she could support herself by giving performances, but she doubted there would be enough Suzhou opera fans in the local Chinese community.
So she approached S. He was going to get rid of her anyway, this could be a kind of severance pay, she supposed. To her surprise, S. was furious. He thought that once she was out of China, she would start talking and damage his career. He forbade her from pursuing the opportunity any further and, through his connections, had her travel permit rescinded.
“Things can’t go on like this,” she concluded, switching back to the first person. “I was considering starting over in another country when we met near the cemetery.”
She spoke in an amiable, soft Suzhou dialect, as if this were some sort of a theater performance.
Whether she was a reliable narrator or not, he wasn’t sure. There was probably some self-justification woven into her story. Still, her story was probably not that different from those of other ernai, with the exception of her passion for Suzhou opera. If for no other reason than that, she deserved help.
He saw a parallel with his own passion for poetry, except that he was far more realistic.
She went on with a catch in her voice, “He only sees the new one laugh, / but hears not the old one weep.” It sounded like another Tang couplet.
“He’s not worth it,” he said. “Start over, but start over here-and start over for yourself.”
“It’s not that I haven’t tried. But since my only skill is singing, it’s difficult to find a real job in Suzhou. Besides, people have already started telling stories about me. So the prospect of studying abroad is very tempting.”
“It’s tough,” he said, nodding.
“If only things could be just like when we first met-” Qian resumed.
It could be quote from a poem by Nalan Xingde, with a subtle intertextual allusion to a Han dynasty imperial concubine who compared herself to a silk fan that, once used, was forgotten, the memories of her first meeting with her lord now dust-covered.
As compelling as her story was, however, it was disappointing. He’d hoped that she’d be able to help him find out more about the Heavenly World.
“So you want to divorce him-” He cut himself short. She wasn’t even the man’s wife, and he was disturbed by the possibilities of who the man might be.
“No, I just want him to let me go, with or without financial help. But he says that if I try to leave him, he’ll have me crushed like a bug.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to gather evidence that will derail his career. It’s only with that kind of information that I can even hope to negotiate with him.”
“I see.”
“The new woman in Shanghai-”
“You have met her?”
“No, but she called him one night while he was with me in Suzhou. I checked his cell phone while he was sleeping, and I got her name and number.”
“That’s something to start with.”
“Whatever evidence you get, try to make sure it’s as graphic as possible.”
“But what are you going to do with this so-called evidence? If he’s a high-ranking official, none of the official media will publish it.”
“Now that the Internet exists, there’s no point in bothering with the People’s Daily.”
That was exactly what Old Hunter had told him. Her plan could work.
In a determined voice, she said, “Even in the worst-case scenario, where the fish dies and the net breaks, I’ll still have my freedom.”
“Because of his position at the Shanghai Foreign Liaison Office,” Chen said, “he might have special agents working under him. I’ll have to move carefully, but I’ll definitely look into it for you.”
“Great,” she said, taking out her checkbook.
“No, I don’t know how far I’ll be able to proceed, so I can’t take your money now.” After a pause, he continued. “But I have a question for you. Do you know anything about the nightclub attached to my hotel?”
“Southern Heavenly World?” she said. “He took me there one evening. I don’t know why men are so crazy about it.”
“You mentioned that it’s affiliated with the Heavenly World in Shanghai and that you have a former colleague who works at that one.”
“Yes. Why are you so interested? You’re working on a case for another client, aren’t you?”
He nodded without responding. It was a reasonable guess-he was pretending to be a PI, after all.
“Yes, one of my colleagues ended up working there. I can make some calls for you.”
“That would be great. I’d really appreciate it.”
“But, back to my case. You should at least let me cover your expenses.”
“Don’t worry about it. You are doing me a favor, so it’s only fair that I do one for you. Now, about the new woman in Shanghai; you gave me her basic info last time we met, but I’m afraid I don’t have it with me.”