Don’t Cry, Tai Lake

connected in the official investigation—Mi’s statement about Jiang having met and argued with Liu on March 7. That is, unless Shanshan was purposely trying to mislead the investigation. After all, she might be another “unreliable narrator.” But he chose to believe in her. More importantly, he appreciated “someone like her in today’s climate,” as Uncle Wang put it. So Chief Inspector Chen would check into it.
    Now, Mrs. Liu might not remember clearly a particular date from a couple of months ago. But her husband coming home at midnight, which might have woken her up, might be a different story.
    But how was he going to approach her? The last time he was in the company of Sergeant Huang. Would that be necessary this time? The way things went, it was probably only a matter of time before his involvement became known to Internal Security. If he could manage it alone, it’d be better not to drag Huang into it.
    Decided, he abruptly stood up and said, “Thank you, Uncle Wang. You’ve really been a help, but now I have to leave. Call me if Shanshan comes here.”
    He took leave of the old man and hailed a taxi.

TWENTY
    CHEN RANG THE DOORBELL at Mrs. Liu’s place.
    A tall, thin, long-limbed young man opened the door. He was wearing a white Chinese-style shirt with black characters printed all over. He was in his early twenties, and looked like a college student.
    “She’s at church and I don’t think she’ll be back until later this afternoon. What do you want with her?”
    “So, you’re her son, Wenliang?”
    “Yes, I’m Wenliang.”
    “So nice to meet you, Wenliang. My name is Chen,” Chen said, producing two business cards—one that identified him as a chief inspector, and another provided by the Writers’ Association. “I recognize you from a photo of you and your father. Since she’s not at home, I may as well talk to you.”
    “Wow, you’re a chief inspector from Shanghai,” Wenliang said, beginning to examine the second card. “And a poet too!”
    He led Chen into the living room, where the detectives had spoken to Mrs. Liu a few days earlier. The only change Chen noticed there was a new large color photo of the Liu family on the wall, with Wenliang posed between his smiling parents.
    “Tea or coffee?”
    “Tea, thanks,” Chen said. “I’m in Wuxi on vacation, and I am helping to investigate your father’s death. In the course of the investigation, I heard about you and your internship at the company last year. Is there anything you can tell us that might help us in our work?”
    “What do you want to know, Chief Inspector Chen?”
    “To begin with, why an internship at the chemical company here? You’re studying literature at Beijing University, right?”
    “My father had a plan for me after graduation.”
    “What kind of plan?”
    “He wanted me to work at the company. According to him, he had a position ready-made for me, and so my internship was part of that plan. I believe he wanted me, eventually, to be his successor. As a man of his generation, he was anxious to keep the business in the family, and he talked to me about it several times.”
    “How would that work? As far as I know, the cadre appointments at a large state-run company, particularly for a position like your father’s, are decided by the higher party authorities.” Chen added, “It will still be a state-owned enterprise even after the IPO.”
    “I asked the same question, but according to him, everything is possible with connections, and he had a lot of connections in the city government, and even above. Needless to say, I wasn’t supposed to become his successor overnight.”
    “I see. No wonder he kept that picture of you two at his home office. It was the only picture I remember seeing there.”
    “Which picture are you talking about?”
    “The one of the two of you standing in front of the bookshelf—before a row of the shining statuettes. It was taken during your internship, I believe.” Chen opened the briefcase, pulled out a bunch of pictures, and picked one out.
    “Oh, that one. Yes, that was from last summer. He was so proud of the company’s achievements, winning a statuette year after year. He kept all of them on the shelf in his office.”
    The sight of the glittering statuettes in the background of the picture touched something at the back of Chen’s mind. He had photographed the framed picture as it was the only one he had of Liu. In his experience, pictures sometimes