Red Mandarin Dress

something,” Chen said, taking out a small notebook. “Which factory?”
    “Shanghai Number Three Steel Mill.”
    “How old was he then?”
    “In his late thirties or early forties.”
    “I’ll check into it,” Chen said. Still, whatever the Mao team member might have done, he would be in his sixties now, and according to Yu, the suspect in the tape at the Joy Gate was probably in his thirties. “Did people do anything after her death?”
    “I was devastated. I thought about sending a bouquet of flowers to her grave—the least I should do. But her body had been sent to the crematory, and her ashes were disposed of overnight. There was no casket, nor a tombstone. I had done nothing for her during her life, nor after her death. How pathetic a weakling!”
    “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, Professor Xiang. It was the Cultural Revolution. All are gone and past.”
    “Gone and past,” Xiang said, taking out a record in a new cover. “I did set a classical Chinese poem to music—in memory of her.”
    Chen studied the cover with Yan Jidao’s poem printed in the background. The foreground was a blurred figure dancing in a streaming red dress.
    Waking with a hangover, I look up / to see the high balcony door / locked, the curtain / hung low. Last spring, / the sorrow of separation new, / long I stood, alone, / amidst all the falling petals: / A pair of swallows fluttered / in the drizzle. // I still remember how / Little Ping appeared the first time, / in her silken clothes embroidered / with a double character of heart,/ pouring out her passion / on the strings of a Pipa. / The bright moon illuminated her returning / like a radiant cloud.
    “She would appreciate it—in the afterworld,” Chen said, “if there is one.”
    “I would have dedicated it to her,” Xiang said, with an unexpected touch of embarrassment, “but I have never told my wife about Mei.”
    “Don’t worry. All you’ve told me will be confidential.”
    “She is coming back soon,” Xiang said, putting the record back on to the shelf. “Not that she is an unreasonable woman, you know.”
    “Just one more question, Professor Xiang. You’ve mentioned her son. Have you heard anything about him?”
    “Nothing was found out about the counterrevolutionary slogan. Anyway, he was left an orphan. He went to live with a relative of his. After the Cultural Revolution, he entered college, I heard.”
    “Do you know which college?”
    “No, I don’t. The last time I heard about him was a few years ago. If it’s important, I can make some phone calls.”
    “Would you? I would really appreciate it.”
    “You don’t have to say that, Chief Inspector Chen. At long last, a police officer is doing something for her. So I should appreciate it,” Xiang said in sincerity. “I have but one request. When your investigation is over, can you give me a set of these pictures?”
    “Of course, I’ll have a set delivered to you tomorrow.”
    “ Ten years, ten years, / nothingness / between life and death .” Xiang added, changing the subject, “You may find out something more in her neighborhood, I think.”
    “Do you have her address?”
    “It’s the celebrated old mansion on Henshan Road. Close to Baoqing Road. Everybody there can tell you. It’s been turned into a restaurant. I was there and took a business card,” Xiang said, rising to reach a card box. “Here it is. Old Mansion.”

TWENTY-FOUR
    WHEN CHEN ARRIVED AT Henshan Road, it was already past eight o’clock.
    He had a hard time locating the neighborhood committee there, walking back and forth along the street. It was cold. It was crucial to find it, he told himself, fighting down a sudden suggestion of dizziness.
    With the identity of the original red mandarin dress wearer established, he saw a new angle from which to approach the case.
    Despite Xiang’s denial, there was no ruling out the possibility of other admirers, even during the Communist-Puritan age described by Xiang. After all, the retired professor might not be a reliable narrator.
    The Mao team member presented another possibility worth exploring. Comrade Revolutionary Activity could have joined the team to get near her, and that made him a possible suspect in the subsequent tragedy.
    Whatever the possible scenarios, he had to first find out more about Mei through the neighborhood committee.
    The neighborhood office turned out to be tucked in a shabby side street behind Henshan Road. Most of the