The Mao Case

older one, Tan, died two years before she did — suicide. There was nothing suspicious about the circumstances
     of his death. As for the second, Peng, he’s a nobody, one of those jobless loafers you see everywhere nowadays.”
    “Then, why all the fuss?” She put the pair of stainless-steel tweezers in the plastic basin. “Who is Old Hunter shadowing?”
    “A young girl named Jiao, Qian’s daughter. Possibly a kept girl — a little concubine.”
    “Who keeps her?”
    “No one knows. That’s what Old Hunter has been trying to find out, I think, but he has forbidden me to do anything concerning
     her.”
    “That’s strange. A Big Buck will show off his mistress like a five-karat diamond ring — a symbol of his success. Unless he belongs
     to a different circle…”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Instead of being a Big Buck, he might be a high-ranking Party
official, so he is trying to keep their relationship a secret. But he can’t keep it secret for too long if cops are looking
     into it.”
    “Not just the cops, but Internal Security too.”
    “And Chief Inspector Chen as well. That’s not good,” she said broodingly. “Did you learn anything else from your father?”
    “He apparently had a long talk with Chen, mentioning a story about how the tomb builders of Cao Cao were killed because of
     what they knew, but that happened more than a thousand years ago.”
    “That sounds ominous! Some knowledge can be really deadly. Did you notice anything unusual about him?”
    “He had a book with him — with a strange title, like a weather book about Shanghai …”
    “Do you think the book has something to do with Chen’s investigation?” She added, “The old man is not a great reader.”
    “Yes, that’s what I think.”
    “Hold on, Yu — can you recall the name of the book?”
    “
Cloud and Rain
… something.”
    “
Cloud and Rain
— oh I see, now I see —”
    “What do you see?” he said, noting an anxious and eager look in her eyes, a sort of scared opacity, as if she were staring
     at something strange, monstrous.
    “
Cloud and Rain
—” She jumped up from the stool, wiping her hands on her apron while bending to pull a cardboard box out from under the bed.
     “I’ve got a copy of it.
Cloud and Rain in Shanghai
.”
    “That’s it. That’s the name of the book,” he said, his eyes following her. In the room, the makeshift bookshelf belonged to
     Qinqin. Peiqin had her own books, like her favorite novel,
Dream of the Red Chamber
, but he didn’t know where she kept them. The cardboard box was an old one, originally used for Meiling brand, canned lunch
     meat, possibly from her restaurant.
    She had found the book in question and started leafing through it in great excitement.
    “What are you looking for?”

    “Yes, that’s it — Qian. And Tan too, sure enough,” she said, holding the book up in her hand. “Have you heard of a movie star
     named Shang?”
    “Shang? I’ve never seen her movies. She was popular in the fifties, I think, and she died during the Cultural Revolution.”
    “She committed suicide.”
    “Yes?”
    “Yes,” she said, taking another look at the page, “Qian was Shang’s daughter.”
    “Is that book about Shang?”
    “No, it’s about her daughter, Qian, but it was popular because of Shang, or rather because of the man she slept with.”
    “Who are you talking about?”
    “Mao!” she said in the shifting morning light that dappled her face like in a painting. “That’s why Chen doesn’t want to get
     you involved. That’s also why Party Secretary Li is keeping his mouth shut. It’s all because of Mao.”
    “I’m lost, Peiqin.”
    “You haven’t heard about Mao’s affair with Shang?”
    “No, not really.”
    “There’s a book titled
Mao and His Women
. Have you never heard of it?”
    “No, but you cannot take those stories seriously. Have you read it?”
    “No, but I read some excerpts in a Hong Kong magazine that a customer left in the restaurant. The book is banned here, of
     course, but they are true stories. Mao liked dancing with beautiful young women. It’s acknowledged in the official newspapers,
     which say that Mao was under a lot of stress, so the Party Central Committee wanted him to relax through dancing. Shang was
     a regular partner of his and they danced together many times.”
    “You never talked to me about this.”
    “I don’t want to talk about Mao. Not in our home. Hasn’t he brought enough