The Mao Case

understandable.
    Chen rose to pace about in the room. Lighting a cigarette, he thought he had a rough idea about Shang’s relationship with
     Mao, but no idea what Mao could have given Shang.
    Another question presented itself. Could Mao have known about the special team from Beijing? After all, Shang wasn’t merely
     one of the “black artists.” Things could have been more complicated than Minister Huang had said.
    So what was Chief Inspector Chen going to do?
    It was an investigation he couldn’t refuse to do. Even so, he might
try to conduct the investigation in a “rebellious” way, in his way — meaningful to himself, if not to others.
    Like most people of his generation, Chen had not taken the Mao issue too seriously. As a child, he had worshipped Mao, but
     the Cultural Revolution shook his belief in the Chairman, particularly after the early death of Chen’s father. After that,
     things changed dramatically for Chen. Now, as one of the “successful elite” in present-day society, he tried to convince himself
     that he anchored himself with his faith in the Party. So he was in no position to think too much about Mao and he used his
     heavy workload as a chief inspector as an excuse not to do so. While the Party newspapers still paid lip service to Mao,
     a lot of things were different today in practice. So why bother?
    Chen had heard stories about Mao’s private life. After the Cultural Revolution, Mao’s bodyguards and nurses had produced memoirs
     that turned Mao back into a human being somewhat by highlighting, for instance, his idiosyncratic passion for fatty pork or
     his unwholesome aversion to brushing his teeth. The books sold well, though possibly because of people’s interest in things
     behind those stories. But there were also other stories, not published but nonetheless circulated among the people. Since
     Mao’s archive was still locked up and considered top secret, Chen did not really believe or disbelieve those “other” stories.
    Besides, Chen considered Mao too complex a historical figure for him to judge. After all, he wasn’t a historian, he was a
     cop, having to investigate one case after another. In recent years, however, he’d found it more and more difficult, even as
     a cop, to steer clear of the nation’s history under Mao. In China, a lot of things and a lot of cases had to be seen in a
     historical perspective, and Mao’s shadow still lingered there.
    So it was the time for him to take on a case concerning Mao — the Mao case. If nothing else, the chief inspector might be able
     to gain a better historical perspective through the investigation.
    And it could also keep him busy — preferably too busy to think about his personal crisis.
    He sat back at the table, pulled up a piece of blank paper, jotted
down the ideas that came to mind, and worked on combining them into a feasible plan. In the end, he decided to break his investigation
     into two parts. For the Jiao part, he would cooperate with Internal Security, but for the Mao part, he would go ahead on his
     own.
    He was going to find out, first of all, what material or information could be used against Mao, and he would do this by going
     to the root — the relationship between Mao and Shang. Like the story behind the story in
Cloud and Rain in Shanghai
, it would be an investigation behind the investigation.
    To begin with, he needed a comprehensive grasp of that period of history. An ideal scenario would be to contact the then special
     team from Beijing, but that was practically impossible. It had happened so long ago. And the people concerned would be put
     on alert as soon as he made the request.
    Alternatively, he would contact the author of
Cloud and Rain in Shanghai
, who might not have included in the book all the information available regarding Shang’s death. In the meantime, he would
     also try to obtain a copy of the memoir by Mao’s personal doctor. In addition, he would try to secretly interview the people
     who were close to Qian and Shang.
    Now, how could he possibly accomplish all this by himself? The clock ticked, almost imperceptibly. Chief Inspector Chen, unlike
     the character in a ridiculous fairy tale he had read, did not have three heads and six arms.
    A glance at the clock told him that it was almost two in the morning. He would not be able to fall asleep, not anytime soon.
     So he took a couple of sleeping pills and swallowed them with cold water.
    Lying in bed, he