The Mao Case

years
     for his affair with Qian, a woman then ten years his senior. He never recovered. Nor had he had a regular job since his release.
     If there were anything remarkable at all about Peng, it would be his ability to muddle along all these years.
    Yu had no idea how any of this could be helpful to Chen, who could have easily gotten the same information with a couple of
     phone calls.
    In the meantime, Yu had heard nothing concerning the movements of Internal Security, at least not within the bureau. There
     was something unusual about the quiet. Party Secretary Li’s reticence about Chen’s leave spoke volumes about it. Yu ground
     out his cigarette, more confused than before, and lonely too.
    Then, in spite of himself, he dozed off before putting the ashtray out of sight.
    When he opened his eyes again, Peiqin was in the room, half sitting, half squatting on a wooden stool, plucking the feathers
     from a chicken in a plastic basin full of hot water. A bamboo-covered thermos bottle stood beside. There was also a basket
     full of vegetables and soybean product on the floor.
    “The common kitchen area is too crowded,” she said, glancing up at him, then at the ashtray on the nightstand.
    So the sound he had heard earlier outside the door could have been the chicken struggling in Peiqin’s hand. It was too late,
     now for him to hide the ashtray.
    “Where is Qinqin?” he asked.

    “Group study with his schoolmates. He left early and won’t be back until late in the evening.”
    Lifting his towel blanket, Yu sat up. “Let me help, Peiqin.”
    “You have said that since our ‘educated youth’ days in Yunnan, but have you ever helped with a chicken?”
    “But I did in Yunnan, at least once — I ‘acquired’ a chicken in the middle of the night, remember?” He was pleased that she
     didn’t bring up the issue of his smoking first thing in the morning.
    “Shame on you! For a cop to talk about that.”
    “I wasn’t a cop then.” He smiled in spite of himself. During their “educated youth” years in Yunnan Province when they were
     poor and starved, Yu once stole a chicken from a Dai farmer during the night, and Peiqin cooked it in stealth.
    Today, in the morning light, her bare arms were specked with the chicken blood, just like so many years ago. He fought down
     the temptation to light another cigarette.
    “It’s almost over,” she said. “We’re going to have home-grown hen soup today. You and Qinqin have been working so hard.”
    As a rule, Peiqin didn’t put something special on the dinner table unless their son Qinqin was at home. It was an unwritten
     rule Yu understood well. Nothing was spared in support of Qinqin’s effort to get into a good college, which would be crucial
     to his future in the new China.
    “A chicken soup, plus carp filet fried with tomato and shepherd purse blossom mixed with tofu,” Peiqin said with a happy smile.
     “Because it is Sunday, you may have a cup of Shaoxing yellow wine too.”
    “But you don’t have to get a live chicken. It’s too troublesome.”
    “You haven’t learned anything from your gourmet boss. He would tell you that there is world of difference between a live home-grown
     chicken and a frozen one from the so-called chicken farm.”
    “How could you be wrong, Peiqin, with even Chief Inspector Chen supporting your chicken choice?”
    “Now you can help me by lying on the bed, and not smoking. It’s Sunday morning. You have hardly had the time to talk to me
     lately.”

    “But you’ve been busy too.”
    “Don’t worry about me. Soon Qinqin will be in college, and I won’t be busy anymore. Well, anything new about Chen’s leave?”
    He knew she would get around to that topic, and he reached for the ashtray absentmindedly. He told her what he had learned,
     mainly from Old Hunter.
    “Perhaps Chen chose Old Hunter,” she said finally, “because your father isn’t a cop anymore, and no one will pay close attention
     to him.”
    “But Old Hunter also withheld information from me.”
    “He either doesn’t know, or he must have his reasons. Now, what has the old man been up to?”
    “He has been busy patrolling somewhere — shadowing somebody, I believe. But if not for my connection to Hong, Old Hunter might
     not have let me do anything.”
    “What did you find out?”
    “I just did a background check on two men linked to a woman named Qian, who died about twenty years ago in a traffic accident.
     Of the two men, the