When Red is Black

member of the family. Qinqin took the old-fashioned black pepper bottle and studied it like a math problem. As they waited for their orders, Yu noticed some less patient customers going to the kitchen counter and bringing back their orders with their own hands.
     
    Finally, their noodles arrived. Following Mr. Ren’s advice, Yu immersed slices of xiao pork in the soup, waited for a minute or two until the warmed pork grew nearly transparent, and then let it melt on his tongue. The noodles’ texture was indescribable, resilient but not too hard, seasoned by the tasty soup.
     
    To impress Qinqin, Yu tried to analyze the special ingredients of the noodle soup, but he ended up remembering only that some tiny nameless fish were boiled in a cloth bag in its preparation. Qinqin appeared to be quite interested.
     
    Yu was pondering whether to order a portion of xiao pork for his son when an old man took a seat at a table next to them. The newcomer wore a long purple down-padded jacket and a cotton-padded hat with two long earflaps, which nearly masked his face. He kept rubbing his hands which seemed to be stiff from the cold morning air outside. He also ordered a bowl of plain noodles, over which he breathed a long sigh with an air of utter satisfaction.
     
    “Look,” Qinqin whispered to Yu. “He took pork out of his pocket.”
     
    It was true. The old man actually produced plastic-wrapped slices of pork from his jacket pocket, put them into the soup, and waited for the celebrated soaking effect.
     
    “Is that pork really so special?” Qinqin asked in amusement.
     
    Yu did not know how to answer. For regular customers here, he supposed, it could be a ritual to place a piece of xiao pork on top of the noodles. But he did not know what kind of pork the old fellow had brought with him. Perhaps it was ham, processed in a very special way.
     
    But there was another mystery: xiao pork was prepared only at Old Half Place. What the old man brought must have been home-cooked pork. If so, why had he bothered?
     
    Then, when he took off his hat and turned toward them, Yu recognized the old customer to be none other than Mr. Ren.
     
    “Ah, Mr. Ren!”
     
    “Comrade Detective Yu, I’m so glad to see you here in Old Half Place!” Mr. Ren said with a genial smile. “You have taken my advice, haven’t you?”
     
    “Yes, I have brought my wife and son as well. Peiqin and Qinqin.”
     
    “Great. A wonderful family dining out together. That’s the spirit,” Mr. Ren said with an energetic gesture. “Please go ahead and enjoy your noodles or they will get cold.”
     
    Turning back, Yu whispered in Peiqin’s ear, “He is someone I met at Yin’s building.”
     
    “I should have known better,” she whispered back. “Imagine you having the leisure to take us out for breakfast in the midst of your investigation.”
     
    “No, our breakfast has nothing to do with the case.”
     
    But that was not exactly true. Yu might have intended, subconsciously, to check the accuracy of Mr. Ren’s statement.
     
    “He told me a lot about Old Half Place when I interviewed him. Does that count as something related to the case?”
     
    “He’s one of the suspects on your list, I remember,” she said with a smile of subtle sarcasm. “And are you satisfied now?”
     
    “Well, he’s not on my list any longer, but I’m satisfied with breakfast.”
     
    That was true. The breakfast, at a total of sixteen Yuan for the three of them, was inexpensive yet delightful. It was also good for the whole family to go out occasionally, like this.
     
    Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Mr. Ren turned around to their table. His noodles were finished. “You may be surprised that I took some pork out of my pocket. That’s a trick only an old gourmet knows how to play.” He grinned at Qinqin.
     
    “Yes, please tell me why you did that,” Qinqin said.
     
    “After lunchtime, the restaurant sells xiao pork by the kilo. Fifty Yuan for one kilo. It sounds expensive, but it is not really. If you slice the pork at home, one kilo will make about seventy-five or eighty portions. How much do you pay for a side dish here? Two Yuan. So I buy half a kilo, put it in the refrigerator—you must have a refrigerator at home—and take out a few slices before I come here.”
     
    “You surely don’t have to be so hard on yourself, Mr. Ren, with all—” Yu did not say “all your compensation money.”
     
    “You don’t have to worry