Death of a Red Heroine

he said, producing his I.D., “from the Shanghai Police Bureau.”
    “Old Hua, there is a police officer here.” Wei turned round, speaking loudly into the room before she nodded to him. “Come on in then.”
    The room was a tightly packed efficiency. He was not so surprised to see a portable gas tank stove inside the doorway, for it was the same arrangement as he had seen in Qian Yizhi’s dorm room. There was a pot boiling above the gas jet. Then he saw a white-haired old man rising from an oyster-colored leather sofa. There was a half-played game of solitaire on the low coffee table in front of him.
    “So what can we do for Comrade Chief Inspector today?” the old man said, studying the card Wei had handed him.
    “I’m sorry to bother you at your home, but I have to ask you a few questions.”
    “Us?”
    “It’s not about you, but about somebody you knew.”
    “Oh, go ahead.”
    “You went to the Yellow Mountains several months ago, didn’t you?”
    “Yes, we went there,” Wei said. “My husband and I like traveling.”
    “Is this a picture you took in the mountains?” Chen took a Polaroid picture out of his briefcase. “Last October?”
    “Yes,” Wei said, her voice containing a slight note of exasperation, “I can surely recognize myself.”
    “Now what about the name at the back—” he turned over the picture. “Who is Zhaodi?”
    “A young woman we met during the trip. She took some pictures for us.”
    He took out another picture of Guan making a presentation at an important Party meeting in the People’s Great Hall.
    “Is she the woman named Zhaodi?”
    “Yes, that’s her. Though she looks different, you see, in different clothes. What has she done?” Wei looked inquisitive, as he took out his notebook and pen. “At our parting in the mountains, she promised to call us. She never has.”
    “She’s dead.”
    “What!”
    The astonishment on the old woman’s face was genuine.
    “And her name’s Guan Hongying.”
    “Really!” Hua cut in. “The national model worker?”
    “But that Xiansheng of hers,” Wei said, “he called her Zhaodi too.”
    “What!” It was Chen’s turn to be astonished. “Xiansheng”—a term rediscovered in China’s nineties—was ambiguous in its meaning, referring to husband, lover, or friend. Whatever it might have meant in Guan’s case, she’d had a companion traveling with her in the mountains. “Do you mean her boyfriend or husband?”
    “We don’t know,” Wei said.
    “They traveled together,” Hua added, “and shared their hotel room.”
    “So they registered as a couple?”
    “I think so, otherwise they could not have had the same room.”
    “Did she introduce the man to you as her husband?”
    “Well, she just said something like ‘This is my mister.’ People do not make formal introductions in the mountains.”
    “Did you notice anything suspicious in their relationship?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “She was not married.”
    “Sorry, we didn’t notice anything,” Wei said. “We are not in the habit of spying on others.”
    “Come on, Wei,” Hua intervened. “The chief inspector is just doing his job.”
    “Thank you,” he said. “Do you know that man’s name?”
    “We were not formally introduced to one another, but I think she called him Little Tiger. It could be his nickname.”
    “What was he like?”
    “Tall, well-dressed. He had a fine foreign camera, too.”
    “He did not speak much, but he was polite to us.”
    “Did he speak with any accent?”
    “A Beijing accent.”
    “Can you give a detailed description of him?”
    “Sorry, that’s about all we can—” Wei stopped suddenly, “The gas—”
    “What?”
    “The gas is running out.”
    “The gas tank,” Hua said. “We’re too old to replace it.”
    “Our only son was criticized as a counter revolutionary during the Cultural Revolution, and sentenced to a labor camp in Qinghai,” Wei said. “Nowadays he’s rehabilitated, but he chose to stay there with his own family.”
    “I’m so sorry. My father was also put into jail during those years. It’s a nationwide disaster,” Chen said, wondering if he was in any position to apologize for the Party, but he understood the old couple’s antagonism. “By the way, where is the gas tank station?”
    “Two blocks away.”
    “Do you have a cart?”
    “Yes, we have one. But why?”
    “Let me go there to fetch a new gas tank for you.”
    “No, thank you. Our nephew will come