A Loyal Character Dancer

buy the satisfaction of being served from head to foot, and sometimes served in other parts as well. Detective Yu had received reports about those indecent services. There must be some wealthy customers in this area as money poured in from abroad.
     
    When he reached the village, the first thing he saw was a bright red motorcycle standing by a white-painted house that displayed the image of an enormous bathtub. Apparently this bathhouse had been converted from a residence. Through the partially open door, he saw a small stone courtyard littered with coal, wood, and stack upon stack of bath towels. He walked in. A huge white tile tub occupied the space of the original living room and dining room. Deck chairs were lined up against the wall. There was another room with a bamboo-beaded door curtain and a sign saying, long happiness room. The private room for wealthy customers.
     
    He pushed aside the curtain and saw a folding table with several chairs. The table was littered with pieces of a mah-jongg set, teacups, and ashtrays. Judging by the lingering traces of smoke in the air, the game could not have finished too long ago. Then he heard a man’s voice coming from a room upstairs. “Who’s there?”
     
    Whipping out his gun, Yu ran upstairs and kicked open the door. He saw what Pan had led him to expect: a naked man entangled with a naked woman on a rumpled bed. Their clothes lay on the floor. The woman tried to cover herself up with the sheet, and the man reached for something on the nightstand.
     
    “Don’t move. I will shoot.”
     
    At the sight of the gun, the man withdrew his hand. The woman frantically attempted to cover her groin, forgetting about her slack breasts with dark, hard tips and the other parts of her angular body. A mole under her rib cage produced a weird three-nippled effect.
     
    “Cover yourself.” Yu threw a shirt to the woman.
     
    “Who are you?” The man, a muscular hunk with a long scar above his left eyebrows, pulled on his pants. “The axes fly down from the sky, I’m third-story high.”
     
    “You must be Zheng Shiming. I am a cop. Drop your gang jargon.”
     
    “You’re a cop? I’ve never seen you before.”
     
    “Take a close look.” Yu produced his badge. “Zhao Youli is my local assistant. I’m here on a special case.”
     
    “What do you want with me?”
     
    “Let’s talk—in another room.”
     
    “Fine,” Zheng said with recovered composure, casting a glance at the woman as he was ready to step out. “Don’t worry, Shou.”
     
    As soon as they moved down into the private room, Zheng said, “I don’t know what you want to talk to me about, Officer Yu. I have done nothing wrong.”
     
    “Oh, really? You gambled last night, and you were in jail for that same reason.”
     
    “Gambling? No. We played for fun.”
     
    “You can explain that to the local police. In addition, I am an eyewitness to your fornication.”
     
    “Come on. Shou and I have been seeing each other for several years. I’m going to marry her,” Zheng said. “What do you really want?”
     
    “I want you to tell me what you know about Feng Dexiang and the Flying Axes.”
     
    “Feng is in the United States. That’s all I know. As for the Flying Axes, I have just gotten out of prison. I have nothing to do with them.”
     
    “You did some business with Feng a couple of years ago. Start by telling me about that. Tell me how you met him—when and where?”
     
    “Well, it was about two years ago. We met in a small hotel in the city of Fuzhou. We were in a deal for some American cigarettes shipped in from Taiwan.”
     
    “Smuggled in from Taiwan? So you were his partner in illegal business.”
     
    “Only for a few weeks. After that, I never worked with him again.”
     
    “What kind of man is Feng?”
     
    “A stinking rat. Rotten from head to foot. He would betray you for a bread crumb.”
     
    “A stinking rat?” That was the description used by several other villagers, Yu remembered. “Did you meet his wife while you were partners?”
     
    “No, but Feng showed her picture to me several times. Fifteen years younger. Really gorgeous.”
     
    “So he carried Wen’s picture around with him. He must have cared a lot for her.”
     
    “No, I don’t think so. He wanted to brag about what a beauty he had deflowered. The way he talked about her was so dirty. He described in detail how she struggled, screaming, bleeding like a pig when he forced himself on