The Mao Case

either, when you make your inquiries.”
    “Don’t worry. Enjoy your vacation. Call me if there is anything
else.” Gu added, “Oh, I’ll visit your mother over the weekend. White Cloud will do so too.”
    In Confucian classics, the concept of “expediency” is much discussed, his father had once taught him. For the moment, the
     Mao Case was the overriding priority, justifying whatever means. Gu had helped before, as he would again this time, full
     of
yiqi
, like in a martial arts novel. The chief inspector might have to pay him back, eventually, but he didn’t want to worry about
     it now.
    His next call was to Old Hunter. “I’ve just seen Dr. Xia. He said I have suffered a concussion.”
    “Did you have an accident?”
    “No, I don’t think it was an accident. A couple of gangsters attacked me on the street,” Chen said simply. “To ensure a quiet
     recovery period, Dr. Xia insists on my taking a vacation — away from the work and worry. Somewhere that no one knows about.
     No phone calls. I have to take his advice, I’m afraid.”
    “But the situation here may develop unexpectedly —”
    “I’ll contact you from time to time.”
    “Fine — oh, I got hold of someone, someone very reliable, to serve as Jiao’s temporary maid. She may be able to find out something
     for us.”
    “Great. That will really help. Tell her to go to Jiao’s place at her earliest convenience. I’ll let Jiao know about it before
     I leave. In any emergency situation, you may contact a friend of mine. This is her number. She should know my whereabouts
     for the next few days.”
    It was Ling’s number. For the moment, there was nobody else he could think of. According to Yong, Ling had moved back to her
     parents’ home.
    “Will it be safe to call her?”
    “It’s a special ‘red line’ for her high cadre family. You don’t have to worry about its being tapped. But don’t give it to
     anybody.”
    “I understand.”
    Old Hunter might have guessed. What would he be thinking about
Chen’s sudden vacation? That the romantic chief inspector was impossible, rushing to his ex-girlfriend …
    Chen decided not to worry about that, either.
    He had to make another phone call, recommending “someone reliable” to Jiao, who had left a message on her cell number while
     on his way to the Shanghai Railway Station.

SIXTEEN
    FOLLOWING THE DIRECTIONS PROVIDED by Old Hunter, Peiqin arrived at the high-end apartment complex on Wuyuan Road.
    She was the “someone reliable” Chen had recommended to Jiao, though he had no idea that it was none other than Peiqin.
    Peiqin had volunteered to serve as a temporary maid, to the surprise of both Yu and Old Hunter, who had asked her to help
     look for one. She made a convincing argument for her candidacy. It was practically impossible to find a reliable maid on short
     notice, let alone one capable of reporting to the police in secret. What’s more, whatever the reason for Chen’s vacation,
     he must be in danger. They had to help. Finally, Yu agreed on the condition that she do nothing there except what was expected
     of a temporary maid.
    Wuyuan Road and the neighborhood around it was an area Peiqin hadn’t visited before. Like many Shanghainese who rarely ventured
     outside of their own circles, she saw no point in exploring areas that were like another city to her. Before and after 1949,
     Wuyuan was
regarded as one of the “upper corners,” way above ordinary people like Peiqin and Yu.
    In the fast-changing city, the gap between the rich and the poor was once again expanding. The newspapers and magazines had
     started talking about building a harmonious society, all of a sudden and all at once, like never-tiring cicadas in the trees.
     She wondered how it could be managed. She showed her ID to the green-uniformed security guard at the complex entrance and
     declared herself to be a new maid.
    Moving through the entrance, she felt momentarily lost, like Granny Liu in the
Dream of the Red Chamber
. The ultraluxurious apartments in front stood like tall magnificent dreams far, far away. Before pressing the intercom at
     the apartment building, she took another look at her reflection in a pocket mirror. A middle-aged woman in a faded black T-shirt,
     khaki pants, and rubber-heeled shoes, carrying a white canvas bag. It was the image of a house maid as commonly seen on TV,
     a role not too difficult for her to play, after all the house work she had done at home over the