When Red is Black

me a great favor.”
     
    “You are flattering me again. But I have to ask a you a favor, Gu.”
     
    “Anything, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    “If your are not too busy at the moment, how about meeting for lunch at Xinya? We’ll talk there.”
     
    “Xinya, that’s great.”
     
    * * * *
     
    They were seated in a private room in the state-run restaurant on Nanjing Road. Like other large restaurants in the city, Xinya had been resplendently redecorated. Its facade shone in the sunlight, and its rear connected with a new American hotel, the Amada.
     
    “You made an excellent choice,” Gu said. “Xinya used to be my grandpa’s favorite place.”
     
    In his childhood, Chen’s parents, too, used to take him there more often than to any other restaurant.
     
    “Beef in oyster sauce. Fried milk. Garlic fried fish in a bamboo basket. Gulao pork. These were the dishes we ordered almost every time,” Gu said. “My grandfather had a superstitious belief in them.”
     
    A waiter in a bright yellow uniform took their order down on a small pad, after suggesting many exotic, expensive possibilities.
     
    Gu selected those specials his grandfather had always chosen. Chen asked for slices of winter bamboo shoots fried with dried winter mushroom, which had also been one of his parents’ favorites.
     
    “I am sorry, we do not have bamboo shoots.”
     
    “How can that be?”
     
    “Bamboo does not grow in Guangzhou. Xinya is known for its genuine Guangdong-style cuisine. All our vegetables are from there. We get them delivered by overnight air freight.”
     
    “That’s ridiculous,” Chen said, shaking his head as the waiter stepped out of the room. “What about buying bamboo shoots in the local market?”
     
    “Well, that’s what a state-run restaurant is like,” Gu said. “It’s not their own business. Profit or no profit, the people here get the same pay. They don’t care. Soon, you will come to dine in the restaurants of the New World. All of them will be privately run, and you may have whatever you like.”
     
    “Really, I am not such a fastidious gourmet,” Chen said. “I wanted you to meet me here because I need to discuss something with you.”
     
    That was true. Chief Inspector Chen did not want to talk too much on the bureau phone, with people like Party Secretary Li dropping in without knocking; Li, for one, still did not have the word “privacy” in his vocabulary.
     
    “Yes, please go on.”
     
    “Detective Yu, my long-time partner, has been looking for a young man named Bao,” Chen said, producing a picture from his briefcase. “That’s his picture, taken about a year ago in Jiangxi Province. Like other provincials, Bao has not registered his residence in the city. Detective Yu is having a hard time tracking him down. I do not think Bao is connected with the Blue or other triads, but those organizations may know more about the provincials than we do. The police do not have direct control over them.”
     
    “Let me ask around. There is one thing I do know about those provincials: if they are from Jiangxi, they will stay together in a certain new area, like Wenzhou village, where the police have not established control yet, but where the Blues have their contacts.”
     
    “Exactly. It’s an important case for my partner. If you can find out something before this Friday, I would be very grateful.”
     
    “I will do my best, Chief Inspector Chen.”
     
    “I owe you a big one, Gu,” Chen said. “Let me know as soon as possible. I really appreciate this.”
     
    “What is a friend for? You, too, are helping your friend.”
     
    The arrival of their order prevented them from saying more, but Chen thought he had covered what was necessary.
     
    The lunch was not so satisfactory. The Gulao pork looked like sweet and sour pork done in a hurry at home. The beef in oyster sauce did not taste as delicious as he remembered it. The fried milk was a joke.
     
    And Gu paid the check once again. The waiter took Gu’s gold credit card—an unmistakable sign of his wealth—ignoring the cash in Chen’s hand.
     
    * * * *
     
    Later that afternoon, Chen arrived at the Renji Hospital with a small bamboo basket of fruit. At the front desk, he was told that his mother had been transferred to another room. Panic-stricken, he rushed upstairs, where he found that she had been moved to a better room, a semi-private which also had more advanced equipment. His mother was pleased to see