Don’t Cry, Tai Lake

to intervene so quickly in the case.
    “It’s difficult,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Isn’t it?”
    It was difficult because he couldn’t rule out the possibility of Jiang’s being a criminal, even though political persecution appeared to be a far more likely scenario.
    “Who else did you talk to at the company?” she said, with an alert look in her eyes, suddenly changing the subject. “You didn’t meet Officer Huang just for lunch in the canteen, did you?”
    “You’re right. We went and inteviewed Mi and Fu. But I’m not the one who’s a cop here, so Huang did most of the talking. We didn’t learn anything new or useful from them. Huang and I also spoke to Mrs. Liu at her home.”
    “You’ve been doing some investigating, like a cop.”
    “There’s something strange about Mrs. Liu, but I’m not sure what it is,” he said, ignoring the question in her remark. “She travels back to Shanghai frequently—almost weekly—to play mahjong. How could she afford it?”
    “Money is nothing to her. Liu earned a lot—he got as a bonus ten percent of the company’s annual profit. And that’s only his legitimate income, not including what he got in gray-area money.”
    “She must have known about his little secretary, so how could she have left him on his own so much in Wuxi?”
    “She did know about his little secretaries. But I’ve heard that they had a deal. He gave her a lot of money, and she provided the secure, stable home environment that was a necessity for his position.”
    “Hold on, Shanshan. Little secretaries? Plural? Liu had someone else in addition to Mi?”
    “There was at least one before Mi—that I know of.”
    “What happened to her?”
    “Dumped liked a worn-out mop.”
    “Can you find out more about her?”
    “I could try. Somebody told me she had been a karaoke girl. Mi used to work in a foot massage parlor,” she said. “As a Party cadre in charge of a large state-run company, it was very shrewd of him to maintain a quiet, stable home life by providing generously for his wife. At the same time, he had Mi serving him hand and foot like a concubine at his home office.”
    “Yes, I see.”
    “But tell me, Chen, what did you hear from Mi and Fu?”
    “Mi described a most unhappy family life for Liu, which I think was an effort to justify her role as a little secretary. Fu said little. He’s also from Shanghai and mentioned going there—to Shanghai—this evening.”
    “Fu goes back quite often. Now, as the boss, he can travel there whenever he likes.” She paused, then said suddenly, “Oh, I don’t know what will happen to the company or to China.”
    It reminded Chen of something written by Fan Zhongyan, a Song-dynasty poet-statesman who described people “ joyful with the joy of the country and sorrowful with the sorrow of the country. Alas, in whom can I find such a companion? ”
    Shanshan, herself besieged by troubles, was sorrowful with the sorrow of the country. She was so different from many of her contemporaries, standing out from the crowd in this acquisitive age by fighting for things beyond her own materialistic considerations. He couldn’t help but be reminded of himself from his long-forgotten years at college, when he, too, had cherished idealistic, passionate dreams.
    Their eyes met, and they beheld each other. The air was abruptly filled with the sound of birds chirping, and a fitful breeze blew through the trees like a lost song.
    A couple of lines he had written earlier came to mind— when you no longer belonged / to a place, nor a time, nor yourself. It was a poem about her, he realized.
    At that moment, however, he didn’t know what to say, so he repeated the words he, as a cop, had said so many times.
    “Thank you for telling me all this, Shanshan. If you think of anything else, anything unusual, let me know.”

THIRTEEN
    IT WAS ONE OF the few mornings that Detective Yu, of the Shanghai Police Bureau, didn’t have to get up early. Nor did he want to. It was Saturday morning, and the clock on the wall read eight thirty, but he was still in bed with Peiqin. Qinqin, their only son, had left around six for an intensive review session in Pudong to prepare for the coming college entrance exam.
    There was only a plasterboard partition wall between their room and Qinqin’s, so they couldn’t enjoy any real privacy. But this morning, it was different.
    Peiqin was sitting up, reclining against a couple of pillows and watching