Shanghai Redemption

ELEVEN

DETECTIVE YU WAS HURRYING home. He’d gotten a phone call from Peiqin, who had received a phone call from Old Hunter.

The old man had gotten straight to the point with his daughter-in-law, quite unlike his usual Suzhou Opera Singer self. He complained to her about how difficult it was to get hold of Yu these days. In response, Peiqin invited him to come over for dinner that evening. Old Hunter accepted the invitation with an enigmatic comment.

“Good idea. Your three-cup chicken is delicious. The fried mini buns near the agency are not too bad, but you can’t have them every day. By the way, an old friend of mine, who recently lost his job, speaks highly of your cooking skills too, and even quotes a poem about it.”

What Old Hunter had said was unusual, particularly the part about the mysterious old friend, so Peiqin had dialed Yu immediately. Half an hour later, Yu arrived home, having almost run there, arriving even before Old Hunter.

“Old Hunter’s no gourmet,” Yu said, still short of breath. “A cup of strong tea is about all he needs. I think I know which old friend he was talking about.”

“Yes, the friend who recently lost his job,” Peiqin said. “Also, the old man was calling from a new number.”

“You mean a new cell phone number?”

“That’s right.”

Yu lit a cigarette. For once, instead of saying anything about it, Peiqin walked over to the stove.

Pouring a small cup of sesame oil into the wok, she started on the three-cup chicken by frying the chopped chicken. As it fried, she set up a cup of yellow rice wine, a cup of soy sauce, and a pinch of fresh basil on the kitchen counter.

Yu tried to help, clumsily, without much success. His mind kept wandering back to the conversation he had with Party Secretary Li back at the bureau.

Just the day before, Li had snapped at him, even threatening to remove Yu from his position when the latter questioned him about Chen’s being removed from the bureau without notice. But then this afternoon, Li talked to Yu like an amiable Party secretary again. After a bit of small talk about the recent work of the Special Case Squad, Li came around to the point, telling him that the decision to remove Chen and to promote Yu to the head of the Special Case Squad had come entirely from the higher authorities. As far as Li was concerned, the promotion was long overdue. Even Chen himself had suggested it several times.

“The decision was unknown to us until the morning it was announced,” Li said emphatically. “I had no choice but to read it word by word. Some people might have different interpretations of what the higher authorities intended with this decision. Have you heard any, Detective Yu?”

“No. I’ve been overwhelmed with the squad’s caseload, particularly with Chen gone, and Jia away on vacation, and…”

“Has Chen spoken to you lately?”

“Only once, when he was on a cemetery bus to Suzhou. I tried to discuss the open cases with him, but like a filial son, he talked about nothing but his guilt over not having visited his father’s grave in years.”

“How did he sound to you?”

“A bit low. But that’s natural for one on a Qingming trip.”

“Did he mention anything about what he’s planning to do?”

“That would be too personal a topic.”

“No, I mean what he plans to do once he starts his new position.”

“Nothing that I recall.”

“Nothing?” the Party secretary asked, with a suggestion of seriousness in his voice. “You have to take the correct attitude, Comrade Detective Yu. As a Party member and the head of the Special Case Squad, you must trust the Party authorities. In today’s society, things can be complicated. Whatever Chen might have said to you or whatever information he might have given to you, you know what you should and shouldn’t do.”

“Of course, Party Secretary Li. I’ll report to you if there’s anything new. The position as head of the squad is difficult, with a lot of new responsibilities unknown and uncharted. I’ll look to move forward under your guidance.”

“You’re an old hand in our bureau. With Chen gone, there’s nobody but you to help yourself. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Yes, Party Secretary Li. I’ll keep every word of yours in mind.”

It was a talk in which Yu had decided not to give anything anyway, speaking only in respectful yet empty phrases. Li should have known better than to try to get him to reveal anything about the ex-chief inspector.

To Detective Yu, Chen was not just a partner or a boss but also a friend. What was more, Chen represented what Yu believed a cop should be. For that reason in particular, Yu was deeply disturbed by Chen’s removal.

It was puzzling that, at this juncture, Chen chose to keep himself busy with the renovation of his father’s grave, alone in Suzhou. Though it wasn’t the first time that the ex-chief inspector had behaved in such an enigmatic way.

Chen had made no attempt to discuss the dire situation with Yu. Instead, Chen had contacted Old Hunter. Chen’s reasoning wasn’t difficult to figure out: as a retired cop, Old Hunter wasn’t under scrutiny.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Peiqin said, slicing the thousand-year egg with a thread for a cold dish. Another cold dish-tofu mixed with sesame oil and green onion-would be prepared once the guest arrived. “Thinking about the trouble your boss is in?”

Yu was indeed thinking about just that, though he had no clue what kind of trouble Chen had landed in.

“He’s my friend,” he said.

“Our friend,” Peiqin said echoing. “And Old Hunter’s too. But your father said very little on the phone.”

“He’ll tell us more this evening.”

“What will happen to Chen, no one knows. Still, it might not be bad for him to start all over. He’s not happy. As a Party-member chief inspector, he’s a product of the system. He tries to make a difference but is that even possible?”

When Old Hunter finally appeared, the table was set with dainty cold dishes and tiny porcelain cups. Yu poured a cup of tea for him. Peiqin hurried to the stove, lifting the wok lid, adding a handful of chopped green onion and then drops of sesame oil to the slightly browned chicken.

“The three-cup chicken smells irresistible,” Old Hunter said as Peiqin opened a bottle of yellow rice wine.

Raising his cup, Yu lost no time asking questions of Old Hunter. For once, the retired cop answered in a straightforward way. Without dwelling on his meeting with Chen, he launched into a detailed account of his meeting with Tang.

“That’s about all Tang could tell me,” Old Hunter concluded, “but he may be able to find out more soon.”

“Tang has no idea that you’re making inquiries for Chen’s sake?”

“No, I don’t think so. He doesn’t even know that the target at the club was Chen.”

“But he knows that Yu is a friend of Chen?” Peiqin cut in, pouring more wine for Old Hunter.

There was no answer to that. Old Hunter stared at a slice of the thousand-year egg, which was shining darkly, like a mystery covered in minced golden ginger.

Their conversation shifted to Chen’s stay in Suzhou.

Old Hunter unfolded a white rice-paper fan with a dramatic flourish, as if ready for a lengthy digression in a Suzhou opera.

“You know Chen’s in trouble. But you don’t know why he’s in Suzhou, do you?” he said, folding and then unfolding the fan. “Indeed, there’s a lot you can learn from Suzhou opera.”

Yu and Peiqin merely nodded, lest they interrupt the old man’s narrative flow. Old Hunter took a leisurely sip from his half-empty cup, without immediately continuing.

“Why do you say that?” Peiqin asked, refilling the cup.

“I’ve been listening to the Romance of the Three Kingdoms over the last several months. Now that all of the Suzhou opera houses have been torn down, the artists can only perform in restaurants, like in the old days, before there were performance halls. There is a restaurant I go to every Tuesday morning where I can watch Suzhou opera performed over a bowl of plain noodles.”

Peiqin and Yu looked at each other again. Old Hunter was back to his old self, tantalizing them before coming to a crucial point.

“In Romance of the Three Kingdoms, General Liu Bei is with Prime Minister Cao Cao in the capital. Cao Cao, wary of Liu as a potential rival, is thinking of getting rid of him. So Liu makes a public show of being interested in growing vegetables in his garden like an ordinary man, and a timid one at that. At a sudden clap of thunder, he drops his wine cup to the ground in the presence of Cao Cao. As a result, Cao Cao no longer takes Liu seriously, who then manages to flee from the capital.”

“You think Chen is trying to do the same thing,” Peiqin chipped in. “He’s making a public show of weakness by pretending that he cares about nothing but the project with his father’s grave in Suzhou. But do you think it’ll work and his enemies will let him go?”

Neither the father nor the son had an answer to that.

Peiqin walked back over to the stove to prepare the green onion cake while Old Hunter started to ask questions of Yu.

“So, are there any new special cases passed on to your squad?”

“Theoretically, only special cases are referred to our squad, but as far as I can see, none of them are special enough to have Chen removed.”

“Well, tell me about those cases assigned to Chen just before he was removed from the bureau.”

Apparently, Old Hunter was thinking along the same lines as the rest of them, Yu observed, helping himself to a spoonful of refreshingly cold tofu.

“By the way,” Old Hunter went on before Yu said anything, “Chen mentioned that he has electronic copies of the case files for Shang’s son and the dead pigs on the river.”

That meant Chen himself would look into those two cases and Yu needed to focus on the remaining ones. He then briefed Old Hunter on the other cases, particularly on a missing person case concerning an official named Liang, which had been assigned to the squad just the day before Chen was removed. Yu wasn’t sure Chen knew it was a missing person case-he didn’t know if Chen had even opened the file.

“The yellow rice wine tastes quite mellow,” Old Hunter said slowly, at the end of Yu’s briefing. Peiqin came back, her hands still partially covered in flour. “But it’ll be better when warmed just a little. As the old saying goes, after three cups of wine-and the three-cup chicken, too-it’s the time to come to the point.”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Peiqin said, hurrying to put another bottle in a pot of warm water.

“I just got a phone call from Chen. Guess what he wanted me to do this time? He wanted me to check out an ernai here in Shanghai. Ironically, it’s the sort of job we’re quite familiar with at the agency.”

“Why did he want you to do that?”

“I have no clue. I know only that it was a request from a young woman he met in Suzhou. He emphasized that I don’t have to go out of my way. Perhaps it’s unrelated to his current troubles, but I doubt that.”

“If that’s the case, I’m even more worried. It sounds like a shot in the dark, which means he might be desperate,” Yu said. “Did he tell you anything specific about the ernai?”

“She’s a young woman named Jin, who runs a café-a so-called ernai café-in the Gubei area. I wonder if Jin is somehow connected to the nightclub. I don’t think Chen would have asked me to do a job for someone he’d just met at random in Suzhou.”

“Even if it’s for someone pretty…?” Peiqin wondered aloud. “No, not at this particular moment, not even for that impossible romantic.”

“No more interruptions, Peiqin,” Old Hunter said, after clearing his throat. “Now, a tale has to be told from the beginning. It’s about ernai. The new term originated at the time of China’s reform, but it evolved out of the old concubine tradition. Confucius says, ‘If the name is not properly defined, the story won’t come out right.’

“For more than two thousand years, concubines were legal and their social status acknowledged. In the Book of Songs, the first poem is said to be about the queen urging her lord to take a concubine. After 1949, however, monogamy became the new standard under Mao, despite there being no secret about how many women Mao had for himself in the Forbidden City. They served him under different job titles-personal secretary, nurse, dancing partner, special train attendant, and whatnot-but everyone knew what they actually did.

“The title ernai means something like ‘secondary concubine,’ but not exactly. For instance, in The Morning of Shanghai, a ‘second concubine’ simply signifies the number two, the second one taken into the household. Wives and concubines can live in the same house, with their status mutually recognized. But that’s not the case for ernai.

“When China’s economic reform began to unfold, Taiwanese businessmen came swarming over to the mainland. Their factories and offices mushroomed up everywhere, particularly in Shanghai. They had to stay here most of the time, with their wives and families far away across the strait, so some of them found girls in the city. Since these relationships lasted for weeks, months, or even longer, a sort of long-term businesslike relationship evolved. The chosen girls are not concubines-they don’t have a concubine’s social or legal status. Nor are they really mistresses in a romantic sense, since money is always involved. Most of them are kept in luxurious apartments provided by the men, along with additional allowances. It’s convenient for the man, who can end the relationship without any legal entanglements. As for the woman, it’s an easier life that carries with it the hope that one day her status might be ‘normalized,’ should the man divorce his wife.

“The local government was well aware of these arrangements but, because of the need for foreign capital, chose to ignore them. In time, the local Big Bucks and Party officials joined in, and ernai became a commonly accepted term.

“Jin is running a café in Gubei, an area known for the large number of women like her. Gubei is one of the earliest high-end property developments in Shanghai. At the beginning of the housing reform, property was cheap, so Taiwanese men snapped up apartments for these women. The subdivision in question is even referred to as ‘Ernai Village.’

“Chen told me very little of the background to this case, so I did my homework, made some plans, bought a mini recorder-”

“A mini recorder? That’s an excellent idea,” Peiqin exclaimed, jumping up. “Hold on, Old Hunter. Excuse me just for one minute…”

She hurried off to the bedroom. Old Hunter and Yu looked at each other. It was unlike her to interrupt repeatedly like that.

But she was already running back to the table with a small tape recorder in her hand, saying, “You thought that actually hearing some of the café conversation could be helpful to Chen, right, Old Hunter?”

“Yes. He didn’t say why he wanted me there. I knew that, with almost no background knowledge on the case, I could sit there for hours without learning anything from the conversation. It would be different for Chen, or his client.”

“Exactly. I think the same thing applies to our conversation here. A Suzhou opera singer can be so full of digressions that it’s not easy for the audience to grasp all of the important details. When we record the opera, though, Yu and I can listen to it later and get even more out of the story. In the same way, some of our discussions might be helpful to Chen.”

“Peiqin, ours is indeed a family of cops!” Old Hunter said with a chuckle of approval.

“But not Qinqin,” she said in earnest, speaking of her and Yu’s son. “He shall have a different life.”

“Now, the café has an interesting name: Naika. The first character is the same as the second in ernai. Might it be a hint about the owner of the café? Of course, it can also mean milk coffee or white coffee.”

“Or latte,” Yu cut in this time.

“The café serves a very specific niche market. Ernai can easily get bored: their men have to spend time with their business and families, often leaving them limited time for them. A neighborhood café that close and convenient enables them to walk over in their pajamas. If their men make an unannounced visit, they can hurry back to their apartments in no time. Also, all of the women there are of the same status, so there’s no one looking down on them.

“Not long after it opened, word about the café spread. Since ernai are typically young and pretty, male customers liked going to the café and looking at the sexy young women walking around in pajamas and slippers. To use a Shanghai expression, they let their eyes enjoy the rich ice cream. Then some other women came too, those who were anxious to be noticed by some Big Buck looking for an ernai. Essentially, the café was a place of opportunity, which added to its popularity.

“So I walked in like one of the customers, or, as the proverb puts it, like an old idiot stumbling into youthful blossoms. Anyway, being old gave me a sort of thick-skulled excuse. It wasn’t a large café, but rather one with an intimate atmosphere. There were maybe nine or ten people there, only two of whom were men, including me. I picked a table not far from the counter, where the women flock around.

“And shallow, empty-minded women they are, gossiping and talking all day, since they have nothing better to do. In this materialistic age, they brag about their men’s wealth and success, as if they themselves have nothing worth talking about. What I heard there was mostly empty conversation like that.

“A. got an incredible bonus because her man’s company went public, pocketing billions of yuan at one scoop; B. had a luxury car bought for her; C. purchased an apartment for her parents, and so on…

“But Jin hardly talked about her man, even though he clearly has spent lavishly on her. He bought her not only an apartment in that subdivision, but also the café, including all the equipment.

“Jin might have a real passion for coffee, but she could enjoy it at home by herself. Why would her man let her run such a café? It’s beyond me.”

“How often do you think he can visit her?” Yu commented. “Once a week, or even once a month. What would a young woman do with all that money and time on her hands?”

“That’s a good point. Anyway, not once did she talk about her man in the café,” Old Hunter said. “And none of the customers talked about him either. However, they seemed to know something about who he was, which means he might be a government official.

“At one point, Jin left the café, went over to a BMW parked nearby, and drove away in a hurry. I took a picture of her license plate, so I should be able to find out more from tracing that. It’s like I heard someone say in a reality show: ‘I would rather weep in a BMW than laugh on a bike.’ I have no doubt that her man bought the car for her.

“After that, I got a bit worried. In a tea house, I may sit for hours with a cup of tea, with the waiter constantly adding hot water for free. But in a café, I couldn’t sit for hours with one cup of coffee hardly touched. And it’s so expensive, costing more than fifty yuan for a cup. For these ernai, money is no problem. But I couldn’t have them take me for a poor, suspicious old idiot ogling them with nothing but a cup of coffee. So I had a bottle of French water with gas, called Perrier, for eighty yuan, and a wedge of pie as well. All together, it cost more than two hundred yuan. Chen’s really bankrupting me!

“After sitting there for more than an hour, I didn’t think her man was going to stop by anytime soon. It’s like waiting by a tree for a rabbit to run into it and knock itself out against the trunk. So I decided to push the matter a little.

“When Jin came back and sat behind the counter, I approached her. For a veteran tea drinker like me, it’s not difficult to introduce myself as a tea salesman. I made a point about a lot of high-end cafés serving tea as well as coffee, and I offered to provide her some free samples. After bringing out all my tea expertise for ten minutes or so, she trusted me, and she gave me her phone number and an e-mail address so we could discuss future business opportunities. More importantly, it gave me a pretext to go back and visit her café again.”

“You really are an experienced cop,” Peiqin said.

“That’s what Chen said.”

Old Hunter then pulled out a small cassette tape. “Peiqin is right. No one can remember everything that’s said, and most of their conversations are probably irrelevant, but Chen might be able to pick out what we’re missing.”

“Give me the tape,” Peiqin said. “And the one with your conversation with Tang, too. I’ll duplicate them, and you can come to my restaurant tomorrow morning to pick up the copies. I’ll also make a copy of the tape of our conversation tonight. And, of course, I’ll give you a bowl of our best noodles.”

“That sounds good.”

“If you think you’re going to meet with Chen in the next few days, you can give him the recordings. But if necessary, I can also give them directly to him.”

“But how, Peiqin?”

“He likes noodles. If he calls you, recommend the noodles at Shanghai Number One. That’s what he calls our new restaurant, since he likes the noodles mixed with green onion and oil so much. He’ll know what you mean,” she said, then added, “Of the three of us, I might be the least noticeable. A lot of people come to the restaurant. So if Chen comes in, no one will suspect anything.”