Hold Your Breath, China Read online

  ‘I was thinking of calling you, Chief Inspector Chen.’

  ‘Anything you need me to do, Director Qiang?’

  ‘No, just long time no see. I’m going to retire next month, as you may know.’

  ‘I know. Having just picked up some copies of Shanghai Literature, I’m here at your office and thought long time no see indeed, as you have said.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve read your long poem about Tai Lake. A number of people have read it too. What have you been doing lately?’

  ‘Nothing particular, just one assignment after another.’

  ‘Any assignment from Comrade Secretary Zhao? He has a very high opinion of you. People all say. He is staying at the Hyatt in Pudong this time, I’ve just heard.’

  He was taken aback by the directness of the question from Qiang, but for a man of Qiang’s connections, it was not too astonishing for him to know about Zhao’s unannounced vacation.

  ‘Believe it or not, I’m having a different assignment for Comrade Secretary Zhao this time. A tourist guide for his fresh air vacation in Shanghai.’

  ‘Well, you’re the very one for the job. He must be so concerned with the air pollution in Beijing. But a lot of people here are complaining about it too.’

  ‘Yes, he is concerned,’ he said, not eager to dwell on the topic. ‘Incidentally, I have to thank you for those assignments you gave me all those years ago – to show the visiting foreign writers around the city, so the current job for Comrade Secretary Zhao may not be too difficult for me.’

  It was true. In the days when Chen had first become a member of the Writers’ Association, being the only writer capable of speaking English at the time, he was frequently chosen by Qiang as a representative to meet with Western writers, which meant good opportunities for Chen to practice English with them and to enjoy the government-sponsored lavish banquets in honor of them too. He was grateful to Qiang for these arrangements, and Qiang also came to trust Chen. At one point, Qiang had suggested that Chen should succeed him at the office after his retirement, representing Chen as a perfect candidate. With Chen’s rise in the police bureau, however, the idea was dropped.

  With those memories flashing back, Chen pulled out the white plastic gift bag from the train.

  ‘Here’s something I bought on the train. Some Wuxi specials. Nothing but a token of my gratitude to your help for all these years.’

  ‘Thank you, Chief Inspector Chen. So you’ve been to Wuxi again,’ Qiang said. ‘It’s so kind of you to think of a retiring old man like me.’

  It was a decision made on the spur of the moment. But those Wuxi products were what he had intended for his mother. Later, he had to buy something else for her.

  ‘I’ve just been too busy, you know. You told me you’re going to live with your son in Hangzhou. Like in a proverb: high up there, there’s the heaven, and down here, there’re Suzhou and Hangzhou. That’s surely wonderful, but—’

  ‘But we won’t be able to see each other like before—’

  ‘Director Qiang,’ a woman in her early thirties burst into the office with a folder in her hand. ‘Sorry, I did not know you had a guest. Here is a printout for the office schedule for the week.’

  ‘Chief Inspector Chen of the Shanghai Police Bureau is no guest here, Meiling.’

  ‘Yes, Chief Inspector Chen, I’ve just recognized you,’ the office assistant named Meiling said, smiling before turning to Qiang. ‘Take your time reading it.’

  As Meiling stepped out of the office, Qiang too stood up and said, ‘You have brought me these specials all the way from Wuxi, so I have to accept them. But let me buy you a cup of tea downstairs, that’s the least I can do.’

  The association had recently had one section of its red brick wall pulled down, in which place an elegant-looking café was built. The café enjoyed good business because of its locale, brought in some extra income for the association, and also made it convenient for the editors to receive their visitors there.

  But it was not a day for Chen to talk long with Qiang for old times’ sake. The inspector looked hesitant.

  ‘Just for a cup of tea, Chief Inspector Chen. It won’t take you much time.’

  With Qiang leading the way, the two of them headed into the café.

  The young waiter at the door knew both of them, took them to a corner table looking out to the street, and placed a pot of tea between them.

  ‘It’s an important gesture for Comrade Secretary Zhao to have you as his tourist guide in Shanghai,’ Qiang said, breathing slowly into the fresh-brewed tea. ‘A symbolic gesture of his trust in you from the Forbidden City.’

  ‘I’m just trying to do my job here in Shanghai. A lot of things in Beijing are totally beyond me.’

  ‘You don’t have to say that.’ Qiang paused before changing the subject. ‘I’m going to retire. Nothing really matters that much for me any more, but you still have a long way to go. It won’t hurt to be careful.’

  That sounded like a signal. Inspector Chen immediately put himself on high alert.

  ‘In addition to your long poem about Tai Lake, you’ve recently published an article about judicial independence, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘People came to the foreign liaison office about it.’

  ‘They’re interested in my writing?’

  ‘You’re a talented writer, everybody knows, but some could be just curious, asking all sorts of questions, about the article, about your working here for the association, your meeting and talking with Western writers here.’

  ‘When did they come to you with these questions?’

  ‘Several months ago.’

  ‘But I’ve been so busy of late. The last time I met with any visiting Western writers in the association here was more than half a year ago. So they may have been disappointed.’

  ‘Exactly. I told them little they might be interested in. They mentioned your modernist poems, of course, and I said I’m no literary critic. I also said you’re not only a productive writer, but also an exemplary Party-member cadre, doing all the volunteer work for the association.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Director Qiang!’

  By now, he knew for sure Qiang did not want him down here simply for a cup of tea, though the old man kept talking in a roundabout way.

  ‘Somebody even mentioned an American woman cop who once worked with you here in Shanghai, but that had nothing to do with those activities at the association. You’re such a celebrity, Chief Inspector Chen, people cannot help being so curious about you.’

  ‘There’s an English proverb: curiosity killed the cat,’ Chen said, without knowing what else to say for the moment. Sometimes old proverbs could turn out to be helpful just because of that.

  ‘It may be just part of their routine work.’ Qiang rose and drained the cup of tea, then added, ‘For the future promotion in store for you, you may have to go through the process under the Party Central Discipline Committee.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that.’

  Chen took it as a far-fetched interpretation, or a cover for the hidden message.

  ‘But I know you’re busy, especially with Comrade Secretary Zhao in Shanghai, so I’d better not take up too much of your time. Again, thank you so much, Chief Inspector Chen.’

  ‘Thank you, Qiang. Let me know the date when there’s a retirement party for you at the association.’

  ‘I will, bye.’

  Peiqin found herself stepping into the Wenhui building on the corner of Shanxi and Weihai Roads.

  It was a decision made earlier in her restaurant office, after searching for the latest posts about Xiang and Geng with little success. Not only were the posts with the video in the background blocked, but also the posts just mentioning the names of Xiang and Geng.

  The net cops had done a thorough job. The several VPN apps she had used also broke down that morning. No possibility of her climbing over the walls, in spite of what she had told Yu the previous night.

  It the
n occurred to her that she might as well do something different. Something Chen had hinted for her to do.

  A visit to Lianping at Wenhui Daily.

  She had first met Lianping in a Buddhist service at Longhua Temple, to which Chen had unexpectedly brought her along. At the time, Peiqin had thought the bachelor inspector was finally ready to settle down in the company of the young journalist, but to Peiqin’s disappointment, Lianping shortly afterward married another young man from a rich family. Like in an old Chinese saying, for a man lucky in his official career, he has to be unlucky in romantic affairs. In fact, Chen was said to have had two ‘girlfriends’ in the newspaper, but was simply luckless both times.

  She did not know how things really stood between Chen and Lianping, but not too long ago Lianping had proved that she was still more than willing to help as far as Chen was concerned.

  At the entrance of the Wenhui building, a doorman stopped Peiqin and demanded registration with her ID. Besides the ID, she had to call the person she wanted to visit.

  As luck would have it, Lianping was in the office that morning and picked up the phone at the first ring.

  ‘It’s me, Peiqin. The Dragon Boat Festival is coming around. At the restaurant, we have some special Zongzi with pork and salted yolk stuffing. So I’m bringing some over to you.’

  ‘It’s so kind of you, Peiqin. Zongzi with pork and salted yolk stuffing is really popular this year. I’ve seen long lines of customers circling the Apricot Blossom Pavilion. I’ll be coming down in a minute.’

  In about five minutes, Lianping hurried out of the elevator with a bulging black purse in her hand.

  ‘Wow, such a large basket, Peiqin. How can I ever thank you enough? It’s the least I can do to take you to the café on the street corner. My office upstairs is such a mess.’

  Leaving the basket of Zongzi on the doorman’s table, she took Peiqin’s hand like an old friend.

  With her stomach slightly rounded in early pregnancy, Lianping still appeared to be young and agile, leading the way to the café in light steps.

  ‘What favorable wind has brought you here – apart from the delicious Zongzi?’ Lianping said as soon as she seated herself opposite Peiqin at a table by the window. ‘Something I can do for you today?’

  She tried not to immediately bring Chen into the talk, which Peiqin understood.

  ‘Well, like in a proverb, people do not go to the temple without praying for something. It’s about one of the victims in a case investigated by my husband, Yu. She’s from your newspaper.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve guessed. About Xiang, right? In fact, this café is not far from the crime scene.’ After taking a small sip at the coffee, Lianping added, ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘To be honest, I have no idea what Yu exactly wants to know for the investigation, but how about telling me what you know about her?’

  ‘Then let’s go from the beginning. Xiang came to the newspaper about a year ago in an unusual way. A Wenhui job is generally considered a very good one. Secure, excellent pay, not to mention the benefits for a journalist in the age of connections. It’s difficult even for an MA graduate to land a job here. Xiang’s from Anhui Province, and having graduated from a two-year program in a third-class college she had no proper training or qualification whatsoever in the field.

  ‘People naturally had stories about the circumstances of her getting the job. Without going into details for the moment, suffice it to say that she obtained it because of her husband, Geng Hua, the head of Wenxin Group. In the crony socialism of China, such an arrangement was not a surprise. If anything is surprising at all, it is that Xiang did not choose to be a housewife – an enviable status in today’s society.

  ‘To be fair to her, Xiang had been working hard here without throwing up any air like a young, spoiled wife of a high-ranking Party official might do. On the contrary, she kept her tail tucked in, so to speak.

  ‘It took just a couple of months for her to become the head of the new economy section, though there’re people who’ve worked here much longer. Having said that, it’s not an easy job for her. As a rule, the section head had to work late twice a week, as the newspaper gave half a page to the section Wednesday and Friday. The final galley had to be signed by the person in charge before it’s sent to print early in the morning. It was said that our editor in chief told her that she did not have to do so, considering her responsibility to take care of Geng, but she insisted on doing it most of the time. Last Thursday, with her husband away in Beijing for a meeting, she came to the office for the night shift.

  ‘On that fatal Friday morning, with all the contents of the section proofread and set up, it was around five thirty. She hurried out alone under a gray sky for her favorite Shanghai morning snack – earthen oven cake with fried dough stick from a stall around the street corner.

  ‘Usually, she would come back to the office in five to ten minutes. There’s nothing on the street for her to see so early in the morning.

  ‘But she did not come back as usual. No one in the office paid attention to it at first. With the job done, she could have gone wherever she pleased. About an hour later, however, a police officer hurried into the Wenhui building.

  ‘Her body was discovered on the street corner still wearing the Wenhui name tag over her white silk blouse. She appeared to have suffered a fatal blow from behind with a heavy, blunt object.

  ‘According to the police report, there were some things puzzling about the crime. It’s not exactly one of the central locations of the city, with just a few people moving around there in the early hours. For instance, there are only those working for the newspapers, and some customers going to that popular snack stall as soon as it starts business around five fifteen. Why should the criminal have chosen to attack there and then?’

  ‘What a story! I’ll tell all this to Yu,’ Peiqin said, taking a sip of the cooling coffee, which she did not like. ‘Now, have you heard of anything specific about her experience before her coming to work here?’

  ‘Gossip about her, and about him, had been around before her arrival here. Particularly about where she had worked – as a massage girl in a private club,’ Lianping said, stirring the spoon slowly in the cup. ‘Again, it’s not something too surprising. According to a colleague of mine in the entertainment section, quite a number of young college graduates choose to work in those dubious “clubs” or “massage salons”. Excellent pay for them. That background, and their college education as extra qualification, is sometimes a must to the Big Bucks who can show them off not just with their voluptuous bodies, but with their intelligent talk too. For a young girl like Xiang from Anhui Province, anxious to stay on in Shanghai, her working at such a temporary job was understandable.’

  ‘But people all know what the job there is really about?’

  ‘You bet! The moment the massage room door is closed, what’s happening inside is pretty much imaginable,’ Lianping said, producing a laptop and inserting a flash memory card into it. ‘You have not seen the video tape, have you?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Nor has Yu.’

  ‘No need to play it here. Perhaps one image from the tape may tell you more than enough.’

  Sure enough, it vividly demonstrated what was happening inside the massage room. Geng was sitting on the massage bed with his pants pulled down to his ankles, and with her nestling stark naked, leaning partially on his lap and partially on the edge of the massage bed, one of her long legs stretching out, her bare foot pressing the door, making sure it was closed. The old man was forcefully rubbing her hairy crotch to a climax, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

  It was like a graphic movie scene.

  ‘Judging by the date printed on the video, it was about one month before he married her.’

  ‘Who could have taken the video?’

  ‘I don’t know. But the scene is unmistakable. You see, the door is not supposed to be locked, though no one there will ever bump in. To make sure of it, she’s stretchin
g her foot hard against the door. That detail explains everything.’

  ‘Yes, everything.’

  ‘You can have the copy for your husband if he does not have one yet.’

  ‘That will really help, thank you so much.’ She added with a smile, ‘He may want me to bring more Zongzi to you in the future.’

  ‘That will be great, but you don’t have to come with Zongzi. Anything else I can do to help?’

  ‘About that morning, you have some more details?’

  ‘I work in the literature and art section, and I’ve learned things from Zhou, who’s also in Xiang’s section. In fact, Zhou showed her the ropes in the office when she first came here. I can ask around, and I’ll let you know when I get anything new.’ Lianping added casually, ‘By the way, what’s Chief Inspector Chen’s take?’

  So finally she’s coming round to him. But Peiqin did not think she knew enough to say much. Either about the case or about what Lianping really wanted to know.

  ‘He’s just got another assignment from Beijing. From someone at the top. Busy as always. He’s not on the case we are talking about.’

  ‘He’s so busy – always restless.’

  ‘Restless, you can say that again. It’s infectious, now to my husband, too. Yu is becoming more and more like his partner. I cannot but be concerned.’

  ‘Your husband is a much more down-to-earth kind, Inspector Chen told me. He’s a very high opinion of Detective Yu. You don’t have to worry about it.’

  After draining the tea in one gulp, Inspector Chen walked out of the café.

  For an experienced, cautious old Party cadre like Qiang, it must have been a calculated move, Chen reflected, to take him down for a cup of tea at the café instead of in the office. It was because of a warning Qiang had to give, which the inspector had to take in earnest.

  He had no idea, however, what he could do about it, and he decided not to worry too much for the moment.

  There were a number of small, exotic cafés scattered along Julu Road. Half a block to the west he saw one with a large poster of Old Shanghai on the door; several more had period decorations on the wall. There was no customer sitting at a table outside.