Don’t Cry, Tai Lake

”
    “That’s true,” Huang said, nodding.
    “Keep digging,” Chen said encouragingly as they walked out of the park. “But tell me about Mrs. Liu. How has your team covered her?”
    “Zhou Liang, a senior member of our team, interviewed her. According to her, she was in Shanghai, playing mahjong with three others that night. Zhou checked it out and her alibi is solid.”
    “She went all the way to Shanghai for a mahjong game?”
    “For mahjong, you have to have longtime partners. And it’s quite common for people to play all night long. She was originally from Shanghai. It takes only an hour to go back and forth by train and she goes almost every weekend.”
    “Every weekend. Interesting,” Chen said. “So she knew Liu wouldn’t be coming back home that night, and she left for Shanghai for a mahjong game. What a couple!”
    “Well, about two or three years ago, there were some stories about family problems. But their relationship turned out to be okay. They purchased a mansion in both their names. And she apparently has a large bank account for her personal expenses.”
    “What about the home office and Mi, the little secretary?”
    “About the home office, the apartment was assigned to him through the state housing plan because of his position. No one would decline such an apartment that they didn’t have to pay a penny for. Since they have already had the large house, it was called a home office more or less as a means of justification. As for the little secretary, I’ve heard rumors about her. But a young, pretty girl can easily be the target of gossip, and it’s difficult to tell how much of it is real. Mrs. Liu must have known about her for a long time. There’s a popular saying about the newly rich and successful: ‘The red flags stream all around outside the wall, but the red flag also stands tall, erect inside the wall.’”
    “What does it mean, Huang?”
    “A Big Buck may have mistresses, secretaries, concubines, and whatnot, but he doesn’t necessarily divorce his wife, nor does it mean he has trouble at home. Home is a safe harbor for him. Besides, the Lius were said to really dote on their son. He’s graduating from college soon. Last summer, he was an intern here at the company, and, an indulgent mother, Mrs. Liu came over frequently, bringing home-cooked dishes.”
    Chen listened attentively without comment. They turned in to a noisy, shopper-thronged thoroughfare, which led to a small quiet street. There, a young recycler in rags rode a junk-laden tricycle with a disproportionately huge sign describing all the recycled items. He rode down the street, his tricycle crammed with indescribable stuff, moving at leisure, as if strolling through his own courtyard. Passing, he looked back at them and grinned.
    “The other factor we have to take into consideration,” Huang resumed, “is how the coming IPO would affect her. The way things were going, it would probably be only a matter of months before it was complete. Liu stood to rake in tons of money and, as his wife, she did too. She had no compelling reason to do anything at this particular moment.”
    “That’s a good point,” Chen said.
    The street changed again, this time into a promenade paved in colored stones, where they saw a road sign pointing to another park.
    “Oh, Li Park,” Chen said, pointing to a colorful billboard with a representation on it of a beauty in ancient costume sitting in a boat. “The Li Lake is a tributary of the Tai Lake, right?”
    “Yes, but some locals consider it a different lake.”
    “It’s also the lake where, after a decisive battle between the Wu and Yue in the Spring and Autumn Warring Period, Fan Li and Xi Shi spent their idyllic days in a boat, living happily ever after. I read about it in a brochure at the center. However, it’s nothing but a story meant to attract nostalgic tourists.”
    The idiosyncratic chief inspector could be impossible, Huang thought, talking about a legendary beauty from more than two thousand years ago while on the way to interview a possible suspect. Huang had been to Li Park many times, looking at a number of paintings and poems about Xisi, but he never cared whether the ancient story was true or not.
    “We’re close,” Huang said. “Their home is just behind Li Park.”
    Sure enough, they soon came to a villa complex. It was a high-end area, where the new construction bordered the lake, yet boasted of convenient access to downtown. That