Death of a Red Heroine

was larger than Chief Inspector Chen had expected, but Xie’s information was definitely worth it. The waitress walked out with them, holding the door open.
    As they started back to her house, a silence fell between them. She said little until they came in sight of her building.
    “You don’t seem old enough to be a chief inspector,” she said, slowing her steps.
    “I’m older than you,” Chen said. “Much older.”
    A ray of sunshine spilled over her loose hair, illuminating her clear profile. They stood close, her head nearly touching his shoulder.
    “It’s one of my mother’s favorite stories. A gallant knight on a white horse comes to rescue a princess from a dungeon guarded by black demons,” she said. “For her, the world’s black and white.”
    “And for you?”
    “No.” She shook her head. “Nothing’s ever been that simple.”
    “I understand,” he said. “But I’ve promised your mother to bring her message to you. You’re her only daughter, and she wants you to come home.”
    “That’s nothing new,” she said.
    “If you move back, and want to find a different job, I may be able to help.”
    “Thank you,” she said. “But I’m making money now, in my way. I’m my own boss here, and I don’t have to put up with any political shit.”
    “You’re going to make it a life-long career?”
    “No, I’m still young. After I’ve made enough money, I will start something different, something after my own heart. I don’t think you want to come to my room again.”
    “No, I have to leave. I have a lot of work.”
    “You don’t have to tell me that.”
    “I hope we will see each other,” he added, “under different circumstances.”
    “I was—straight—until two or three months ago,” she said. “I want you to know.”
    “I know.”
    “You know that as a chief inspector?”
    “No, but I also want you to know,” he said, “you are an attractive woman.”
    “Do you think so?”
    “I do, but I’m a cop. And I have been one for several years. That’s the way I live.”
    She nodded, looking up at him, ready to say something, but she didn’t.
    “As for the life I lead, it is not so good either,” he went on.
    “I see.”
    “So take care of yourself,” he said. “Bye.” He started walking away.
    The smell of rain was in the air as he boarded a bus back to the Writers’ Home. The bus was packed, and he felt sick, covered with sweat all over again. The moment he got to his room, he took a shower. It was the second of the day. And the hot water ran short again. He hurried out of the bathroom. Sitting on the bed, he lit a cigarette.
    That earlier shower at Xie’s room was much better. He felt sorry about Xie’s way of life, but he was in no position to do anything about it. It had been her choice. If the job was no more than a temporary one, as she had said, there could still be a different future for her. One thing he was supposed to do—as a cop—was to report her illegal practice to the local authorities. But he had decided not to.
    Ouyang had not returned yet.
    Chief Inspector Chen realized it was time for him to leave Guangzhou. His mission accomplished, he should have taken Ouyang for a farewell dinner as his treat. But it would make him feel guilty if he kept his nonpoetic identity a secret any longer from Ouyang, whom he had come to regard as a friend. So he wrote a short note, saying that he had to go back to Shanghai onurgent business, and that he would keep in touch. He also left his home phone number.
    He added two lines of Li Bai to the note to him:
Deep as the Peach Blossom Lake can be,
But not so deep as your song you sing for me.
    Then he checked out.

Chapter 25
    “C hief Inspector Chen,” he said, picking up his office phone. It was Chen’s first morning in the office after his return from Guangzhou. He had hardly had time to make himself a cup of the Black Dragon tea which was Ouyang’s gift.
    “This is the office of the Shanghai Party Discipline Committee. Comrade Director Yao Liangxia wants to see you today.”
    It was an unexpected call, and the voice from the other end of the line was unfriendly.
    “Comrade Director Yao?” he said. “What’s it about?”
    “That you need to discuss with Comrade Yao. You know where our office is, I believe.”
    “Yes, I do. I will be there shortly.”
    Yao Liangxia, whose late husband had been a deputy politburo member in the sixties, was herself an influential Party figure. Why should Director