Death of a Red Heroine

girls?”
    “Well, at first I had no idea that she was the national model worker. There were no formal introductions at these parties. There was only one thing different about her that I noticed. She appeared to be unusually stiff when I tried to dance with her.”
    “Had Wu told you anything about her?”
    “No, not right away. But I could tell she was different. Unlike the other girls, she took it seriously.”
    “Seriously—what do you mean?”
    “The relationship with Wu. Most of the girls were there just for fun. A one-night stand, you might say. Some are far more liberal than you can imagine, offering themselves without your asking.
    Guan was different.”
    “So Guan expected something serious out of the affair—but was she not aware that Wu was married?”
    “She was well aware of it, but she believed that Wu would divorce his wife for her sake.”
    “Now that’s really something—for a national model worker to go after a married man—what made her think she would succeed?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “But what made you think Guan wanted Wu to marry her?”
    “It was so obvious. The way she clung to him in such a wifely way, and put on an air of inviolable chastity to everybody else.”
    “Did Wu treat her just like one of those girls?”
    “No. Wu was also different.”
    “Can you try to be more specific here?” Chen said, handing a cup of tea to Guo after he had made another for himself.
    “For one thing, Guan did not like the parties. Altogether, she was at them only three or four times, and she would withdraw into Wu’s room after one or two dances. Wu stayed with her in his room, even when the party was going on like crazy outside. That was most unlike Wu.”
    “Staying alone with a girl in his room. That’s very like Wu Xiaoming, I’d say.”
    “No, that’s not what I mean. Wu stayed with a girl in his room after the party, but not during it. Wu was quite considerate toward Guan, going out of his way to humor her. Last year they even took a trip together. To the Yellow Mountains, I think. That was Guan’s idea, too.”
    “They shared the hotel room as a couple,” Chen said. “I’m afraid that it was not just Guan’s idea.”
    “I don’t know. Guan was okay, surely not plain, but you should have seen those actresses, more beautiful, and much younger. But Wu never made a trip with any of them except Guan.”
    “Well, you may be right,” Chen said, nodding. “But then what happened between the two of them?”
    “Wu realized that she was too serious, too demanding. It became a problem. She must have put a lot pressure on him, but it was out of the question for Wu to divorce his wife.”
    “Why?”
    “His wife’s family is powerful. You know who Wu’s father-in-law was? Liang Xiangdong, the first secretary of Huadong Area.”
    “But Liang died during the Cultural Revolution.”
    “Well, there’s something you may not know. Wu’s father-in-law died, but his brother-in-law has become the Second Party Secretary of Anhui Province. What’s more, his mother-in-law, still alive and kicking, is a member of the Central Party Discipline Committee in Beijing.”
    “We know that,” Chen said. “All the HCC connections and nepotism. But now tell me, what was Wu Xiaoming’s reaction to Guan’s demand?”
    “At first, Wu simply laughed, behind her back, of course. Just another of her model masks, he said, like those worn by Beijing opera players, ‘different ones on different stages.’ He was not too bothered with it. Perhaps he liked its novelty.”
    “So when did their relationship became problematic?”
    “Honestly, I did not notice anything until that picture session. It was after a party last December. At the party, Guan was her usual self, as stiff as a bamboo stick, but Wu made her drink several cups of Maotai. Whether he had put something else in the wine, I don’t know. Soon she passed out. Wu asked me to help her into the bedroom. And to my surprise, he started undressing her there. She was not aware of anything, as innocent as a white lamb.”
    “Did he tell you why he wanted you to be there?”
    “No, he just started shooting pictures in my presence, those pictures, you know. He said something like—’Strip a national worker model naked, and she’s just another wanton slut.’ It was not something uncommon, I mean, a nude picture session for him.”
    “Nor uncommon for you, either?”
    “Well, things like that had happened before—once or twice.