Don’t Cry, Tai Lake

able to consider himself worthy of her or of being a cop.
    But he had no authority here. It wasn’t feasible to confront Internal Security, by whom he had long been considered a troublemaker, having blocked them on several occasions. There was no way to argue with them about what was considered a “state secret,” as that was something defined by them and in the interests of the Party.
    It wasn’t possible to pressure the local cops, either. It was out of the question for him to rush onto the scene. What he had told Huang about Comrade Secretary Zhao and his “special mission” wouldn’t really stand up.
    “Room service, sir—”
    The young attendant came in bearing the breakfast tray along with the thermos bottle of herbal medicine. Smiling a sly smile, she might have noticed something different about the room.
    “Thank you,” said Chen, reaching for the thermos.
    He finished the herbal medicine in two or three gulps as he watched her withdraw. He then dialed the cell phone he had given Shanshan, but it was turned off.
    It might not be a good idea for him to visit her dorm, since it was most likely being watched by Internal Security. Instead, he decided to go to Uncle Wang’s eatery. There he could wait, or at least learn something about her. Before he stepped out, he picked up a soft leather briefcase—a gift from the center—and put in a bunch of the photos as well as other information related to Liu’s murder. What he was going to do that day, he had no idea, but he might as well restudy some of the material while he waited for a call from her.
    That morning, the same old route felt almost unbearably monotonous. He walked on without looking around, lost in thought. A maroon convertible suddenly sped past him with a strident rumble. The driver, a young man in his early twenties, waved his hand dashingly at him. An extremely slender girl in a light-blue dress sat reclining in the back, dangling her bare feet off the side. To his surprise, the car came to a screeching halt and backed up a couple of yards. The driver looked over his shoulder.
    “My dad stays at the center too, you know,” he declared with a proud grin. “Would you like a lift?”
    An HCC—high cadre’s child, or Communist prince. Chen knew their ways. A high-ranking Party cadre probably brought along his family for a vacation at the center.
    “No, thank you.”
    “We live in the villa next to yours. It’s not too bad, but there’s no real fun inside the complex. It’s old and filled with old-fashioned people. We have to party outside to entertain ourselves.”
    “You’re right. Perhaps another time,” Chen said.
    He watched as the car drove away in a cloud of dust.
    Surely it was a waste for one man alone to occupy a whole villa, but then according to the policy, only a high cadre—a cadre of a certain rank—was entitled to such treatment. Of course, Chief Inspector Chen himself wasn’t a high cadre, and he was only there because of his connection to one. He wondered how far he could go with all his connections, and whether he really wanted to go that far.
    Whistling, he tried Shanshan’s number one more time. Still no answer.
    The phone still in his hand, a call came in. He recognized the number shown on the screen. It was Sergeant Huang.
    “Oh Chief, I’ve just learned something,” Huang said, with a strange edge in his voice. “I told you that Shanshan’s phone was being bugged because of her connection to Jiang, you remember?”
    “Yes?”
    “Her connection to Jiang wasn’t just because of their work. According to Internal Security, she’d had an affair with him. That’s how her name appeared on a list—not our list, but Internal Security’s. They took pictures of her sneaking out of his apartment late at night several months ago.”
    Even though Chen knew Shanshan and Jiang had dated, he was momentarily at a loss for words. Whatever their relationship, he hastened to remind himself, they had parted.
    If anything, it only proved that Internal Security must have been following Jiang for a long time. And perhaps Shanshan as well. He thought of the suspicious peddler he’d seen a couple of times in the last few days. But then again, he might simply be jumpy.
    “She made a phone call to him just a couple of days ago,” Huang went on, having not gotten any response from Chen.
    “What did they say to each other when she called?”
    “He didn’t pick up.”
    “Thanks, Huang,” he said. “If there’s