The Stone Monkey

civil war in China and finally Mao Zedong and communists win,drive the nationalists to Taiwan. My father, he fought with Mao. October 1949, he standing with Chairman Mao at the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Beijing. Oh, Loaban, I hear that story a million times. How he stood there and bands was playing ‘The March of the Volunteers.’ Big fuck patriotic time.
    “So my father, he got guanxi. Connections high up. He become big guy in Communist Party down in Fujian. Want me to be too. But I see what communists do in sixty-six—Historically Unprecedented Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution—destroy everything, hurt people, kill people. Government and party not doing right things.”
    “It wasn’t natural,” Rhyme said. “Wasn’t in harmony.”
    “Exact right, Loaban.” Li laughed. “My father want me to join party. Order me to. Threaten me. But I not care about party. Not care about collectives.” He waved his arms. “Not care about great ideas. What I like is police work. I like catch criminals . . . . Always puzzles, always challenge, I’m saying. My sister, she big and high in the party. Our father proud of her even though she a woman. He say she not bring disgrace on him like me. Say that all the time.” His face grew dark. “Other bad thing too is I not have a son—no children—when I married.”
    “You’re divorced?” Rhyme asked.
    “My wife, she die. Got sick and die. Some fever, bad thing. Only married few years but no children. My father say it my fault. We try, just not have child. Then she die.” He rose and paced to the window, stared at the lights of the city. “My father, he lot strict. Hit me all time growing up. Never what I did was good enough for him. Good grades  . . . I good student. Got medals in army. Marry nice, respectful girl, get job at security bureau, become detective, not just traffic, I’m saying. Come visit my father every week, givehim money, pay respect at mother’s grave. But never anything I do is enough. Your parents, Loaban?”
    “Both dead.”
    “My mother, she not so strict as father but she never say much. He not let her . . . .Here, in Beautiful Country, you not so much, what you say, under gravity of your parents?”
    Good way to put it, thought Rhyme. “Maybe not so much. Some people are.”
    “Respect for parents, that number one for us.” He nodded toward Guan Di’s statue. “Of all gods, most important are our ancestors.”
    “Maybe your father thinks more of you than he’s letting on. A façade, you know. Because he thinks it’s good for you.”
    “No, he just not like me. Nobody to carry on family name, I’m saying. That very bad thing.”
    “You’ll meet somebody and have a family.”
    “A man like me?” Li scoffed. “No, no. I just cop, got no money. Most men my age in Fuzhou, they work business, got lots money. Money all over place. Remember, I tell you many more men than women? Why a woman pick poor old man when they can have rich young one?”
    “You’re my age,” Rhyme said. “You’re not old.”
    Li looked out the window again. “Maybe I stay here. I speak English good. I be security officer here. Work in Chinatown. Undercover.”
    He seemed serious. But then Sonny Li laughed and said what they were both thinking. “No, no, too late for that. Lots too late . . .No, we get the Ghost, I go home and keep being fuck good detective. Guan Di and I solve big crime and get my picture in paper in Fuzhou. Maybe chairman give me medal. Maybe my father watch news and see and he think I not be such bad son.” He drained the cup ofscotch. “Okay, I drunk enough now—you and me, we play game, Loaban.”
    “I don’t play games.”
    “But what that game on your computer?” Li said quickly. “Chess. I saw it.”
    “I don’t play very often,” Rhyme qualified.
    “Games improve you. I am show you how to play best game.” He returned to the magic shopping bag.
    “I can’t play most games, Sonny. Can’t exactly hold the cards, you know.”
    “Ah, card games?” Li said, sneering. “They games of chance. Only good for make money. See, those, you keep secrets by turning cards away from opponents. Best games are games where you keep secrets in head, I’m saying. Wei-chi? You ever hear it? Also called Go.”
    Rhyme believed he had. “Like checkers or something?”
    Li laughed. “Checkers, no, no.”
    Rhyme surveyed the board that Li took from the shopping bag and set up on the table beside the bed. It was a