The Mao Case

years.
    “Who is it?” A voice came down from the fifth floor. “I’m Pei. Mr. Chen told me to come today.”
    “Oh yes, come up. Room 502.”
    The lock on the front door clicked. Peiqin pulled the door open and walked over to the elevator.
    When she stepped out onto the fifth floor, she saw a young woman standing in the doorway of an apartment on the left.
    “So you are the new maid?”
    “Yes,” Peiqin said, nodding.
    “I’m Jiao.” She was in a light blue mandarin dress embroidered with a colorful phoenix, her feet
     encased in matching high-heeled satin slippers, as if she had stepped out of a movie from the thirties. The mandarin dress,
     apparently custom-tailored, brought out all her curves, with a subtle suggestion of voluptuousness. She was holding a pair
     of stockings in her hand.
    Jiao should have been able to take care of the apartment herself, but Peiqin knew it could be simply a sign of one’s social
     status to have
a maid. Peiqin had heard that some upstarts had a cubicle in their apartments called a maid’s room, with its own bathroom,
     so that the live-in-servant wouldn’t mix with the master. She had grown up during the age of communist egalitarian propaganda,
     and she couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable with her identity in this situation, even though she was merely playing
     a role, a temporary one.
    “Come on in,” Jiao said. “My name is Pei. Mr. Chen wanted me to come here,” Peiqin repeated what she had said downstairs.
    “Mr. Chen called me, saying that he would send over someone capable and reliable.”
    “I’ve known Mr. Chen for years. He’s a good man.”
    “How is he? I tried to call him this morning, but he didn’t pick up.”
    “He is out of town on business, I guess,” Peiqin said vaguely, not sure whether Jiao was aware of the latest development.
    “Business people are like that.” Jiao added, “I’m going out this morning, so let’s talk about your work now. You don’t have
     to come every day. Three times a week. Four hours each time. Primarily your duties will be room cleaning and laundry. Occasionally,
     I’ll need you to prepare dinner, like today, but the moment you finish, you may leave. For your help, eight hundred a month,
     and I’ll pay for anything additional. Is that okay?”
    “It’s fine with me.”
    “Let me make a list of what you need to buy and prepare for tonight.” Jiao scribbled quickly on a piece of paper. “Oh, you
     don’t have to cook, just prepare them.”
    “I understand,” Peiqin said, glancing over the list, which appeared to be quite specific, not only about the items, but about
     the specific culinary flavors too. “When are you coming back?”
    “Six.”
    “And your dinnertime?”
    “Around seven.”
    “In that case, I’d better start cooking the pork around four, I think, for the pork braised in red sauce takes hours. As for
     the fish, I’ll have it
prepared with scallion and ginger in a steamer, so you will just need to steam it for five or six minutes, more or less, as
     you prefer.”
    “Right,” Jiao said, nodding. “You’re quite experienced.”
    “Anything specific about the pork or the fish?”
    “Yes, well-cooked fat pork,” Jiao said. “Oh, don’t use soy sauce.”
    “But what about the sauce —” Peiqin began, then had a thought. “I see. I think I can wok-fry sugar until it turns brown and
     use it for color.”
    “You’re a pro,” Jiao said with a smile.
    It was a recipe Peiqin had learned at the restaurant. Jiao must have cooked it herself, as she showed no surprise on her face.
    “I’ll time it so the pork will be well done but not overdone when you come back. You can also add in whatever spice you like.”
    “Indeed, Mr. Chen has made an excellent recommendation. Do it in whatever way you like. Here’s money for your shopping.”
    Jiao appeared to be in a hurry to leave, talking and pulling on her stockings while leaning against a mahogany chair. She
     slid her feet into a pair of high heels.
    “If it takes more than four hours for a particular day, let me know. I’ll pay extra, okay?” Jiao added, heading toward
     the door.
    It was more than okay for a maid, Peiqin thought, listening to Jiao’s footsteps fading along the corridor and disappearing
     into the elevator. She then closed the door.
    She didn’t know what Chen had said about her to Jiao, but it appeared that her “maid career” had started more smoothly than
     she expected. Jiao had