A Case of Two Cities

understood why a large number of Party cadres were unable to resist the materialistic temptation. As Dong had implied, the system was far from fair. As a hardworking chief inspector, Chen earned about the same state-specified salary that a janitor in the bureau did. Of course, Chen had subsidies in recognition of his position, like the bureau car, a business expense allowance, a special housing assignment, and so on. All these might not be bad, but he could not cash in the car service when he wanted to take a walk. Once he had seen a Ming-style mahogany desk in a furniture store. It took him five or six months to save enough money for it. When he finally went there with the sum, the desk was long gone.
     
    Still, he had to consider himself well off, compared with those working in the state-run companies on the edge of bankruptcy or with those hanging on in the waiting-for-retirement program. Was it really fair for the CEOs, Party cadres or not, to earn hundreds of times more than the ordinary people? A product of his education in the sixties, Chen maintained a nostalgic passion for a sort of egalitarian society. Others did, too—that might also be one of the reasons why people complained so much about corruption.
     
    “So we have to study those new issues in the transitional period,” Dong went on, “and find solutions in a realistic way.”
     
    Dong had regained his footing, unshakable no matter what the chief inspector might say. It would not be difficult for Dong to have the bank documents prepared, whether through a real nephew or not. Chen was going to try anyway, but it would be pointless for him to stay here any longer, wasting his breath with Dong.
     
    As Chen was about to take his exit, Dong broached a new topic, rising to pour more hot water into Chen’s cup.
     
    “In today’s world, people have to move around through their connections. No one is an exception, not even you, Chief Inspector Chen. When the water is too clear, there will be no fish left.”
     
    “Well, it depends on your definition of connections. I am a cop. I want to do a good job of it.”
     
    “Who is going to define it, then? Hardworking Party cadres like you and me—we know how difficult it is to do a job well.” Dong went on casually, “Of course, you are more than an ordinary Party cadre. You are also a well-known poet and translator. You have recently published a collection of poetry, I know. And a huge hit too.”
     
    “Oh, you like poetry?”
     
    “Not exactly, but a friend of yours, Mr. Gu of the New World Group, gave me a copy. As you may or may not know, he has given copies to a lot of people.”
     
    “Really! He never told me anything about it.”
     
    Gu was a highly successful businessman Chen had become acquainted with during an investigation. Gu had helped, and been helped, and since considered himself a friend of Chen’s. So Gu had been doing him favors— “out of friendship.”
     
    “I happen to know he bought a thousand copies from the publisher even before the book came out,” Dong said with a knowing smile. “Publishers lose money with poetry.”
     
    So that’s all there was to it. The success of his poetry. He should have questioned it from the beginning. The publisher’s ravings had for once gone to his head. Still, he was not too surprised that Gu had orchestrated it. But how could Dong have learned all the details?
     
    Dong must have checked Chen’s background before his visit. The chief inspector was troubled. He hadn’t told anybody about his plan. The only possibility of it leaking out would have been, he realized, through the bureau computer room. Somebody else had accessed his computer research, and Dong had been informed beforehand.
     
    If Dong pushed further in that direction, things between Gu and Chen could be interpreted in a variety of ways. Chen might believe he had not done anything unjustifiable, but others might not see things from his perspective.
     
    “You surely have your expert way of looking at things, Director Dong,” Chen said, trying to gain time. Instead of surprising Dong, he found himself being ambushed. The talk was moving in a direction he had not foreseen at all. There might be something in Detective Yu’s warning. Knocking on Party doors could be truly dangerous.
     
    But Dong was not going to stop there.
     
    “Things are not fair in China. For example, you do not have a large enough apartment for your mother to live with you. An old woman