Death of a Red Heroine

background. I asked him why he had chosen a nobody like me. He said he saw in me what he had never seen before. Lost innocence or something. With his photos, he might be able to introduce me to directors.”
    “A trick he must have played with many people.”
    “He also promised I could keep all the pictures. A set of fashion pictures taken at a studio on Nanjing Road would cost a fortune, but I would not have to pay him a penny.”
    “Well, how was he as a photographer?”
    “A real pro. He used up five rolls of film in the first hour. He kept changing the lighting and angles, and kept me changing clothes and poses, too. He said he wanted to capture my most beautiful moments.”
    “That sounds romantic.”
    “Before I knew it, he wanted me to pose with a towel around my body. He arranged the folds for me, adjusted my positions, and touched me here and there. One thing led to another, and to the bed. I think I’ll spare you the details.’’
    “So you were together quite a number of times?”
    “No, only twice, if that’s what you mean. During the day I was busy, meeting all the customers’ requests. There were about twenty people in the group. And he could come to me only in the evening—only after Guan fell asleep.”
    “And what was he like in bed?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Sexually.”
    “You really want to know?”
    “Yes, details can be crucial in a case like this.”
    “As far as I could judge, he was just average, and me, too.”
    “Can you try to be a bit more specific?”
    “More specific? All right, I want a man to take me up and down until I don’t have anything left. He happened to be that kind. Bang, bang, bang, till the end of the world.”
    “Did he show any perversity?”
    “No, he always had me lie on my back, with a pillow under my hips, and my legs spread wide apart. Thorough-going, no digression or deviation.” She added, in a sarcastic tone, “We should have stayed in the massage room, where I could demonstrate to your satisfaction.”
    “No,” he said, “that’s not what I want. I’m a cop, so I have to ask you these questions. I’m sorry.”
    “No, you don’t have to feel sorry. What am I? A trashy massage girl. A high-ranking police officer can do anything with me.”
    “A different question—” he said, catching a note of hysteria resurfacing in her voice, “how did Guan come to fight with you?”
    “She must have suspected something. Wu came to my room more than once. Or maybe she had seen a Polaroid of me.”
    “When did it happen?”
    “Two or three days after the photo session, I was alone in my room, taking a break when she burst in. She accused me of sleeping with her man. But she’s not his wife. Wu had told me. It was the pot calling the kettle black.”
    “What did you say to her?”
    “‘Pee your chaste pee, and see your own reflection in it,’ and she fell on me like a tigress. What a fury. She screamed and scratched, with both hands and all her fingers.”
    “Did the hotel security people come?”
    “No, but Wu did. He took her side, trying his best to calm her down. He did not say a single kind word to me, as if I were an old piece of mop cloth discarded on the floor. And she was mad, shouting and screaming at him, too.”
    “Do you remember what she said?”
    “No, I was devastated. Even to think about it now . . . Give me a cigarette.”
    She screwed her eyes shut against the smoke.
    Through the smoke, he was studying her carefully, waiting.
    “What did she want him to do?” he said.
    “Be nice to her, I guess, like a husband—or to be her husband, I think. She was not coherent. She screamed like a jealous wife catching an unfaithful husband in the act.”
    “Let me ask one more question,” he said. “Did the fight lead to your quitting the travel agency job?’
    “No, not really. It took place behind a closed door. Even if people had overheard, it was none of their business. Guan threatened that she would approach my boss, but she did not do anything.”
    “She would not,” he said, “not in her position.”
    Her napkin fell to the floor. Courteously he stooped to pick it up for her. Under the table, he saw her bare feet hooked over the bottom rung of her chair, as if cut off by the white tablecloth.
    “Thanks,” she said, wiping her lips with the napkin. “I think that’s all I can remember, Comrade Chief Inspector.”
    “Thank you, Xie Rong. You’ve given us some very important information.”
    The bill