Red Mandarin Dress

there.”
    “But both his parents were cremated, with their ashes disposed of. The cemetery, too, was turned upside down. No immediate members of his family were buried there.”
    “Well, some families used to buy their cemetery plots far in advance. His grandfather and parents could have purchased their plots like that. So in his imagination, it was still the place where his mother lay in rest—”
    Chen’s cell phone started ringing at this unlikely hour. Chen picked it up in haste. The call was from Director Zhong.
    “Thank God. I’ve finally found you, Chief Inspector Chen,” Zhong said. “The Central Party Committee in Beijing has made a decision about the housing development case.”
    “Yes?” Chen said, turning to one side. “You mean the outcome of the trial?”
    “It’s a difficult case, but it’s also an opportunity to show our Party’s determination to fight corruption. The people see Peng as representative of it. So let’s make an example of him.”
    “I haven’t been helpful with the case. I am sorry. But I will be there tomorrow. Those corrupt officials should be punished.”
    Zhong had no idea that the phone conversation was going on in the presence of Jia.
    “Then I’ll see you in the courtroom tomorrow,” Zhong said.
    Turning back at the end of the phone call, Chen said, “Sorry about the interruption, Mr. Jia.”
    It was then that the mahogany clock started striking, sounding like the bell in the temple.
    Twelve o’clock.

THIRTY
    IT WAS A NEW day, technically speaking.
    Chen finished his wine in a gulp, looking up at the mahogany clock. The restaurant owner had done a good job reviving the money-intoxicating and gold-glittering atmosphere of old Shanghai, paying extra attention to the details. The clock appeared to be a genuine one, having survived all those years, with its brass pendulum burnished like new.
    He might have broken the cycle. It was Friday now. There was practically no possibility of Jia’s trying to claim another victim before the trial.
    So he picked up the silver bell from the table and rang it.
    White Cloud came to the table in a floating florid dress, blossoming like a night flower. “Yes?”
    “The special course for the night,” Chen said. “Don’t forget any details.”
    “All the details,” she said, lighting two candles on the table before leaving.
    Jia watched, making no comment about Chen’s unusual instruction to her.
    Chen lit a cigarette. A sudden silence wreathed the room; only the pendulum of the antique clock remained audible.
    Suddenly, the lights went out in the room and there was only candlelight, shivering in the draught as the door reopened.
    She returned in a red mandarin dress, with its slits badly torn, several of her bosom buttons undone, and her bare feet shining on the carpet.
    Jia stood up, his face suddenly bleached of all color, as if having seen a ghost.
    In a Song dynasty tale of Judge Bao that Chen had read, a criminal was shocked into confession by the apparition of a murdered woman. At that time, people were still superstitious, groveling before the fury of a ghost.
    Jia was making an effort, however, to pull himself together as he slumped back in his seat. He kept his head low, wiping his forehead with a paper napkin, to avoid the sight of her.
    She carried a glass pot on top of a gas stove in her hands. As she put the stove on the table, leaning over to light it, her breasts became visible through the opening of her unbuttoned dress.
    There was a turtle swimming in the pot above the stove. Unaware of the water temperature that was beginning to change, it looked out at leisure. Another cruel course, that live turtle soup. With the fire turned on low, it could cook for quite a long while.
    “A special soup made of chicken and scallop broth,” she explained. “The turtle absorbs the essence of the soup in its struggle, so its meat, when cooked, will have an extraordinary flavor. Its movement will also make the soup more delicious.”
    “A strange course, an unusual restaurant,” Jia said, regaining his composure, though still sweating profusely. “Even the waitress is dressed so dramatically.”
    “This used to be a mansion, and its mistress was a legendary beauty, especially in an elegant red mandarin dress,” Chen said. “I wonder if she ever wore the dress like this. Or if she ever served such a cruel course, which is like a murder, with the young girl suffering, struggling against a sense of inevitable