The next one, by Li Bai, had a similar ring to it.
Waiting, she finds her silk stockings / soaked with dewdrops / glistening on the marble palace steps. / Finally, she is moving / to let the crystal-woven curtain fall / when she casts one more glance / at the glamorous autumn moon.
The deserted beauty was a popular subject in classical Chinese poems. The person complains about-but doesn’t really speak out against-her lord. In traditional literary criticism, these poems were often interpreted as being politically symbolic, representing the intellectual complaining about being neglected by the ruler.
Was that the reason these poems appealed to him at this moment?
Qian could have fallen for S. because of their apparent shared love of Suzhou opera. In this materialistic age, in which money was paramount and culture was frequently ignored, nobody seemed to be able to make a real difference in the declining fortunes of traditional opera. S.’s earlier help in bringing attention and audiences to her performances turned out not to be motivated by his love of Suzhou opera but by his lust for her. Once his objective was achieved, he didn’t have to make any more efforts on behalf of opera.
Only an idealist like her, who saw only what she wanted to see, would go forward on blind faith alone. Even her plan to go abroad seemed too unrealistic. With her experience, she might be able to get into a university and earn a degree in opera, but the idea that she could earn a living from it was just another fantasy.
Chen couldn’t help feeling sympathetic.
He forked up a bite of the lemon pie. Before he could eat it, though, his cell phone buzzed, sliding across the table as if it had a life of its own.
In a surprising coincidence, it was Qian calling him from Suzhou.
“I’ve made a couple of calls for you, Cao. About the nightclub in Suzhou-its main connection to the Heavenly World in Shanghai seems to be the law firm that represents it. S. once mentioned that law firm, though in a different context. Some of the Western companies that the law firm represented made things difficult for his office. Needless to say, someone in the firm is very powerful. Perhaps someone high up in the Party or government who is some sort of special advisor to the law firm. Someone powerful enough that S. couldn’t do anything but throw in the towel.”
“A law firm that represents the nightclub-”
“What’s so surprising about that? The club pays a large retainer to the law firm because of the firm’s connection to the people at the top of the city government. That way, no one can touch it.” She then added, “Also, I’ve talked to him.”
“Him? Oh, you mean Sima,” he blurted out. Chen had guessed who it was that morning at Cai’s Noodles. Sima, the head of the Shanghai Foreign Liaison Office, was someone Chen had known for years and had visited just a few days earlier.
“You moved fast, Cao.”
He sort of regretted blurting out Sima’s name, but it was probably just as well. She had confirmed his assumption.
“What did you say to him?”
“Not a single word about you, of course. But things can’t go on like this, so I put a little pressure on him, hinting at the consequences if he doesn’t let me go. He got it, I think.”
“Be patient, Qian,” Chen said. “In a couple of days, I may be able give you a progress report along with some evidence, and then we can talk about the next step. It’ll be more effective if you have something substantial in your hands.”
“Fine, I will wait for your report.”
“In the meantime, if you learn anything else about the nightclub, let me know.” He added in a hurry, “Don’t put any more pressure on Sima. I’ll definitely call you tomorrow.”
Afterward, he had a bad feeling about having said so much on the phone, even though it was the cell phone he’d recently purchased, its number known to only a few people.
The coffee had gone cold, he discovered, as he sipped it with distaste.
He turned off the laptop and turned his attention back to the tape.
Next came the section of the tape that had been recorded by Old Hunter at the ernai café. It was mainly small talk among the regular customers there, who kept stirring up ripples of their bored lives in their cups of coffee.
Chen started to make notes again. Gossip seemed to be the primary characteristic of the ernai’s conversation. Someone was buying a villa in Xiaoshan even more expensive than the one they owned in Binjiang; a vice mayor’s son drove his Porsche so recklessly that he wrecked it after one month; a laowai met his end suspiciously in a hotel despite the official announcement proclaiming that he died of natural causes; and dead pigs were reappearing, this time on a different river to Shanghai.
All of this chatter didn’t amount to much. If anything, it spoke to the increasingly widespread corruption in society. Several of the ernai’s men were officials, so a recurring topic was “naked officials”-officials whose families had emigrated, taking huge bank accounts along with them, while the officials themselves remained behind, in that sense “naked.” The rationale behind shipping one’s family abroad was simple. The officials were worried. They didn’t know what would happen to them in the near future. For today, they would just use their positions to embezzle and steal as much as possible. The ernai, however, complained that their men gave “so much” to their families, leaving only little crumbs for them. Some of them actually hoped that their men would take them abroad too.
According to the ernai, about ninety percent of the officials were “naked.” Chen did a quick calculation. That was probably about right, despite those red songs extolling the virtues of the great and glorious Party. Some Party officials might not have sent their entire families abroad, but at least their children were there, studying or working.
Then Chen heard something, one sentence that had almost slipped his attention. He pressed the stop button and rewound the tape.
“Lai’s son studies at an Ivy League college, with several luxury condos purchased in his name in Boston and New York.”
It wasn’t entirely news. In a meeting, Lai had declared that his son was studying abroad because he’d won a scholarship. But what about the condos? For the moment, Chen decided not to give too much credence to the gossip of the ernai.
Sima was just such a “naked official.” With his son studying at a private school in the States, and his wife staying there to keep her son company, Sima was free to find one woman after another for himself. He was also quite cautious, placing Qian in Suzhou and keeping Jin busy with her café.
Chen smiled at the part of Old Hunter approaching Jin. It was so funny, he couldn’t help listening to it again.
OLD HUNTER: I used to be tea drinker. My nephew wants me to drink coffee, saying it’s good for preventing Alzheimer’s. I don’t know if that’s true, but I don’t want to disappoint him. Still, I know far more about tea. In some fancy cafés in Western countries, they also serve excellent tea. It speaks for the sophistication of the establishment.
JIN: Yes, that’s interesting. I’ve heard about that.
OLD HUNTER: I can have my nephew e-mail some pictures to you. He travels a lot.
JIN: That would be great. Here is my card, and I’ll put my e-mail address as well as my cell phone number on the back of it.
Chen wasn’t sure whether there was a real nephew at all, one who might feel avuncular toward the ex-inspector.
He was having his third cup of coffee when his cell phone rang again. It was Peiqin.
“I went to visit your mother during my lunch break. She had a bad scare this morning, I’m sorry to say.”
“What!”
“She left to do her routine shopping at the food market this morning-you know, buying fresh vegetables for the day. When she got back home, she found that her room had been broken into and was completely ransacked. She collapsed in fright. When I got there, she was still sitting on the floor. I went with her to East China Hospital. You know a doctor there, Yu had said. Dr. Hou examined her thoroughly, saying there was nothing wrong, but for a woman of her age, it would be advisable for her to stay overnight at the hospital.”