A Case of Two Cities

professor, as silly as a PhD. “I wish I could be either one.”
     
    “Traffic is so terrible. Numerous accidents. Taxi drivers are superstitious. To them, the evil spirits must have been let loose on the roads.”
     
    “So people believe in Mao’s posthumous power as a protector?”
     
    “Oh, you must be cracking another international joke!” Qiao shook his head violently in mock disbelief. “Little evil spirits are afraid only of big evil spirits. Who do you think is the number one evil spirit?”
     
    “Mao?”
     
    “Now, you are not that dumb. I was just joking, of course. The books you have picked are not bad at all.”
     
    “I have another stupid question,” Chen said. “These books sell well. Then why at such a discount?”
     
    “Because they sell so well, pirated copies come in incredibly large quantities.”
     
    “I see,” Chen said. Some private-run bookstores had no scruples about ordering through dubious distribution channels, with tons of pirated copies coming in, ending up in the special-price section. “So these books are sold illegally here.”
     
    “What do you mean?” Qiao demanded sharply. “All the private bookstores are the same. How else can they make money in today’s market?”
     
    “I’m not concerned with other bookstores, Qiao,” Chen said, producing his business card. “I think we need to talk.”
     
    “Now I recognize you,” Qiao said, staring hard at the card. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Chief Inspector Chen. You didn’t come to my store to buy discount books, did you?”
     
    “You are not that dumb.”
     
    “There are many booksellers like me. You don’t have to be so hard on me, Chen,” Qiao said in a pleading voice. “I’m down and out, like a dog already drowning in dirty water. Do you have the heart to beat it to death?”
     
    “You have not lost your poetic metaphors, Qiao. Let’s open the door to the mountains. Your books are not my business—pirated or not—but I need to ask you some questions about Xing.”
     
    “About Xing? You mean that bastard in the headlines?”
     
    “Yes. You met him last year, right?”
     
    “I did, but I haven’t seen him for more than a year. If you’ve come here because of Xing, go ahead. Any question you want to ask, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    There was no mistaking Qiao’s willingness to collaborate. Qiao had not met with Xing for a period of time, as Chen had learned from the file. There must have been a reason.
     
    “What an exploiter!” Qiao went on indignantly. “Xing just played a cheap PR trick at my expense.”
     
    “Please explain it for me, Qiao.”
     
    “When China Can Stand Up in Defiance was a national hit, he arranged a meeting at the Shanghai Hotel. The meeting was reported in newspapers—the generous support promised by a successful entrepreneur to a struggling writer. But when the initial sensation of the book ebbed, he did not keep any of his words.”
     
    “What did he promise you?”
     
    “The larger check he had promised never came. Among other things, a three-bedroom apartment, which disappeared into the air like a yellow crane in that Tang poem.”
     
    “He offered to buy you an apartment?”
     
    “No, he said he would give me one when the construction was completed, but then he didn’t contact me anymore. I called him several times. He never returned my calls, not a single time.”
     
    “Did he put down anything—black and white on paper?”
     
    “No. The sum he gave me there and then was only two thousand yuan. Like a pathetic, meatless bone thrown to a starving dog.”
     
    “Now about the construction project—his own property in Shanghai?”
     
    “That I don’t know. But it sounded like it.” Qiao said with a frown, “Let me think. ‘I’ll talk to my little brother about it. And he’ll give you the apartment key as soon as the complex is done.’ I think that’s what he said—or something like that.”
     
    “Anything else can you remember about your meeting with Xing?”
     
    “We met in a restaurant at the hotel. He talked most of the time. He had a young secretary with blond hair, dyed, and a tall bodyguard. The little secretary made notes of our conversation. She talked to the reporters afterward, I think. That’s about all I remember.”
     
    “Frankly, I don’t think you were involved with Xing. But if you can think of anything else about him, let me know. You have my phone number.”
     
    “If I can remember