A Loyal Character Dancer

color TV. He put down the receiver and walked into the street.
     
    The city of Suzhou seemed not to have changed much in spite of China’s Open Door Policy. Here and there, new apartment buildings appeared amidst old-styled houses, but he failed to find a public phone booth. Walking, he came to the arch of an ancient white stone bridge. He crossed, coming unexpectedly into a brightly lit thoroughfare with a variety of shops. It was like a juxtaposition of different times.
     
    At one corner of the thoroughfare, he saw a post office open. In its spacious hall several people waited by a row of phone booths with glass doors, above each of which a strip showed the relevant city name and phone number. A middle-aged woman looked up, pushed open the door, and picked up the phone inside.                                     
    He started to fill out a request form to call Gu. Once more he hesitated. He’d better not reveal his whereabouts to someone like Gu. So he put down Mr. Ma’s phone number. Gu might I have contacted the old doctor.                         
     
    After ten minutes, the number he had requested showed up on the screen. He stepped into the booth, closed the door behind him, and picked up the phone.                     
    “It’s me, Chen Cao, Mr. Ma. Has Gu contacted you?”       
     
    “Yes, he did. I called the bureau. They told me you were in Hangzhou.”                                              
    “What did Gu tell you?”                            
     
    “Gu seemed to be really concerned about you, saying that some people, powerful people, are opposing you.”           
     
    “Who are they?”                                  
     
    “I asked him, but he did not tell me. Instead he asked me whether I had heard anything about a Hong Kong triad called Green Bamboo.”
     
    “Green Bamboo?”
     
    “Yes. I asked several people about them this afternoon. It’s an international organization with its headquarters in Hong Kong.”
     
    “Anything about its activity in Shanghai?”
     
    “No, nothing so far. I will keep asking. You take care, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    “I will. You too, Mr. Ma.”
     
    As he left the post office, his steps were dragging. Various things appeared to be entangled like bamboo roots under the ground. The Green Bamboo. Chief Inspector Chen had not even heard of them until now.
     
    And he lost his way in the unfamiliar city. After having made a few wrong turns, he came to the Bausu Pagoda Garden. He bought an entrance ticket, though it was too late for him to go into the pagoda.
     
    Strolling aimlessly in the garden, in the hope that some ideas might come to him, he saw a young girl reading on a wooden bench. No more than eighteen or nineteen, she sat quietly with a book in one hand, a pen in the other, and a newspaper spread on the bench. Her lips touched the shining top of the pen, and the bow on her pony tail fluttered like a butterfly on a breath of air. This scene reminded him of his days in Bund Park, years earlier.
     
    What could she be reading there? A poetry collection? He took a step toward the bench before he realized how deluded he was. He saw the title of book: Market Strategy. For years, the stock markets had been closed, but now “stock madness” was sweeping the country, even this corner of the ancient garden.
     
    He climbed a small hill and stood on top of it for several minutes. Not far away, he seemed to hear the murmur of a cascade. He glimpsed, in the distance, a faint flickering light. On this April night, the stars appeared high, bright, whispering to him through memories . ..
     
    Such stars, but not that night, long ago, lost,
    For whom I stand tonight, against the wind and frost.
     
    But tonight it was not as bad as in Huang Chongzhe’s lines, not as cold. He whistled, trying to pull himself out of his mood. He was not meant to be a poet. Nor was he cut out to be an overseas Chinese making a “grave-sweeping” trip with an American girlfriend—as those old women had imagined. Nor a tourist, wandering about in the city of Suzhou at leisure.
     
    He was a police officer, incognito, conducting an investigation, unable to make a decision until after the next day’s interview.

Chapter 28
     
     
    E
    arly the next morning, they