‘Yes, I did some investigations there. And much earlier, as a middle-school student, I often went there for the celebrated “Red Dust Evening Talk” at the entrance to the lane. People gathered together on summer evenings, telling real and realistic stories – far more thought-provoking than you could have read in the textbooks at the time.’

  ‘“Red Dust Evening Talk” sounds so intriguing. I would love to go there someday. “For dust you are and unto dust you shall return” – am I right?’

  ‘“Red Dust” in our language refers to the mundane world of ordinary people, informed with aspiration, passion, vanity, and much more. We can talk more about it later. For now, suffice it to say that the evening talk became part of my education during those early years.’

  ‘What about the neighborhood committee?’ she said. ‘I was hardly aware of its existence until three or four years ago.’

  ‘Little wonder for a young, idealistic college student like you. By the way, have you heard of Beijing’s “Chaoyang District Aunties”?’

  ‘Yes, I have. Last year, several dissident intellectuals were reported by those aunties for having illegal sex service at home, and one of them, a well-known historian, had to appear on TV pleading guilty. No one could tell whether the accusations were true or not. Anyway, the reputations of those dissident intellectuals were shattered. I think I’ve seen the scene on CCTV where they pleaded guilty. The neighborhood committees are so powerful in today’s China. I knew it then for the first time.’

  ‘Well, they were less powerful for a short period, what with the disappearance of food ration coupons supposedly distributed by the neighborhood committee, and Mao’s class-struggle theory fading out with Deng’s emphasis on economic development. It did not take long, however, for the neighborhood committees to stage an astonishing comeback. The current CCP’s supreme boss realized that for the sake of his authoritarian rule, help from neighborhood committees would be needed more than ever to maintain the appearance of political and social stability.’

  ‘Yes, there’s a new office called Stability Maintenance in the city government. As far as I know, it has an unbelievably huge budget. I’ll double-check for you, Director Chen.’

  ‘You may say, of course, that there’s surveillance everywhere in the world, but nowhere is like China – not just with ordinary surveillance cameras, but also human surveillance cameras in service through the neighborhood committees. With the help of the new technologies, it functions like an alternative surveillance system, taking matters into its own hand. It does not wait for people to move into view. It reaches out to grab the target. It’s part of the foundation of the CCP’s rule of absolute power, especially in these Covid times.’

  She held his arm as they began climbing up the treacherous, slippery steel overpass spanning Yan’an Road. The chilly wind blew over them like ice whips. Her gloves almost got stuck on the steel railing, but she had to support him.

  It took them more than ten minutes to come into view of the lane in question.

  The Neighborhood Committee Office was located near the back exit of Red Dust Lane.

  Jin knocked on the red-painted door of the office. A middle-aged woman with a mole on her chin opened the door. After taking a glance at Chen’s business card, she welcomed the two visitors into the office, which was equipped with a couple of portable air conditioners. An assistant placed a dainty tea set on the desk and asked her, ‘Anything else, Party Secretary Yan?’

  ‘Put the “do not disturb” sign on the door. You may as well stay in the back room, checking the surveillance system. These two comrades are from the city government.’

  Chen no longer had any doubt about the identity of the Party secretary. It was she who had stood in front of the office that morning three or four days ago, smoking, flicking ash on the ground, casting alert glances at him as he emerged out of the debris of Red Dust Lane.

  Chen then produced the temporary business card Hou had prepared for him again:

  Chen Cao, Special Envoy of the CCP

  Director of Shanghai Judicial Reform

  (with Bureau Head cadre rank)

  Former Legendary Chief Inspector Chen

  golden symbol of ‘the emperor’s sword.’

  That new title of Special Envoy of the CCP surprised Chen. It was too ambiguous. He did not like it, nor the symbol of ‘the emperor’s sword.’

  And it certainly surprised Party Secretary Yan.

  ‘Wow, I have read and heard about you,’ Yan exclaimed, standing up in haste. ‘The legendary Chief Inspector Chen! I think I have met you before. During some earlier investigation here, most likely. You have hardly changed, Director Chen.’

  The office appeared to have been much changed, though. The back room, which had been used to detain so-called class enemies, was now a computer room for surveillance over the neighborhood. The neighborhood committee was far more effective, more powerful than ever before.

  ‘No, I’m no longer a cop, but with another office in the city government,’ Chen explained. ‘This is a critical juncture for the city of Shanghai. Whatever positions we hold, we all have to do our utmost.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right about that, Special Envoy Chen. You are literally carrying the emperor’s sword.’

  So the business card did make a difference to a neighborhood committee cadre like Yan, and Chen was capable of speaking like an experienced doublespeaker on occasion, Jin observed.

  ‘I’m working for Director Chen as his personal secretary,’ Jin chipped in, introducing herself. ‘The city government puts too much weight on his shoulders.’

  ‘You’re so lucky to work with Director Chen, Comrade Jin.’

  ‘Yes, you can say that again.’

  ‘Let’s open the red-painted door to the green-covered mountains in the distance,’ Chen said. ‘We’re here today to talk about the late Doctor Wu.’

  ‘The late Doctor Wu? Yes, he lived in the lane for about forty years, give or take.’

  Yan then launched into a detailed account of the late doctor. In the early sixties, his parents and their three children moved into the lane, squeezed into the partitioned west-wing room of a traditional shikumen house. His brother, being a Red Guard, got a room outside Red Dust Lane through the state housing assignment; his sister married a man who had a small room elsewhere under his own name; and Dr Wu, then a young intern at Renji Hospital, stayed on with his parents in the lane.

  Toward the end of the Cultural Revolution, his father passed away, and his mother, after having suffered a stroke, remained paralyzed. She became an invalid. Nobody wanted to take over the burden of looking after her, so the family members reached an agreement. Doctor Wu would take care of the old woman, and the other siblings would give up the inheritance of the room, which amounted to little or nothing at the time. He agreed because he could not bear to leave his mother alone and uncared for, and because the partitioned wing room was also convenient. By then, he had graduated but was still working at Renji Hospital. The lane being close, it was handy for him to come back to for short breaks.

  In the last twenty years, however, much happened in China’s economic reform. The housing market changed drastically. A huge number of new residential buildings popped up like spring bamboo shoots after a spring rain. Some of the well-to-do residents moved out of the shoddy old lane. In spite of the central location, the partitioned and repartitioned living conditions made it hard for them to hang on. Housing prices continued to shoot up like crazy. Some of the old lane residents could afford to buy new apartments, but they kept their tofu-like rooms in the lane simply for the sake of the sizable compensation they would be due in the event of the old lane being bulldozed.

  A lot happened to Dr Wu, too. As a well-known heart surgeon, red envelopes of money were pushed and stuffed into his hands. It was a common practice in socialist China. In the meantime, he had got a larger apartment through the state assignment, and he had his wife and daughter move out there with their city residence registration cards. He also purchased a smaller apartment for his daughter. But he still kept on the room in the lane.

  ‘As for the late Doctor Wu’s fight with his relatives,’ she went on, shaking her head vigorously, ‘some of his relatives came to our office just yesterday, claiming their share of the compensation.’

  ‘Can you give us more details about his argument with his family members?’

  ‘It’s a long, complicated story. I’ve merely learned some fragments from my mother, who has also worked at the neighborhood committee, you know. As she has told me, Doctor Wu and his sickly mother had stayed in Red Dust Lane since his father’s death, and all these years, his brothers and sister shunned the small room in the lane like the plague. Too much of a burden for the caregiver, and the old woman did not have any income—’

  ‘That’s understandable, Yan. But it also spoke volumes about Doctor Wu being a dutiful son.’

  ‘You may call it karma, Chief Inspector Chen. The doctor and his mother stayed on in Red Dust Lane for years, though not all the time. Then his wife and daughter emigrated to the United States. He moved his mother to their old apartment and used the room in Red Dust Lane as storage for old books and furniture.

  ‘Then problems cropped up. In the month Doctor Wu’s mother passed away, the relocation notice for the lane was announced. Red Dust Lane was going to be pulled down for a redevelopment project. It was no surprise when his brother and sister hurried back, claiming their shares of the compensation for the wing room.’

  ‘The deceased has not turned cold yet, and the family begins fighting for what’s left behind. That’s too much,’ Chen said, shaking his head.

  ‘You can say that again, Director Chen. Our neighborhood committee intervened and told them it’s not the time to fight. The compensation was a very small sum for the government; for the residents involved, however, it was sizable. That’s why some people like Doctor Wu chose to hold on to their properties, even though they were now uninhabitable.

  ‘And the relocation compensation policy changed this year. Under the old policy, the compensation went to all the family members. For a family of five, for instance, the parents and three children could each have his or her one-fifth share. Under the new policy, the compensation went only to those with their names on the local residence registration. Any complications had to be resolved between the family members. They could sort things out among themselves, but that had nothing to do with the government or the government policy.’

  Inevitably, she explained, fights broke out. Those who had their names on the residence registrations quickly signed the agreements, but those who didn’t had to fight like hell to get their share. It was a practical change on the part of the government. In a society increasingly destitute of traditional ethics and morality, people wanted whatever they could grasp in their own hands, but it was none of the government’s business.

  The other Wus felt that Dr Wu’s exclusive entitlement to the compensation was unfair. It was a wing room left by their parents, so the compensation should be divided equally among the three of them. Considering Dr Wu’s success and wealth, with his other properties in the city, with his own family staying in the United States, they thought he should have given his sister and brother more – at least equal shares.

  But from Dr Wu’s perspective, it was ridiculous that they had the nerve to demand their shares. All these years, his brother and sister had kept themselves far away from Red Dust Lane, and he alone had shouldered the responsibility for taking care of their old and sickly mother.

  ‘Yes, a judge may not be in a good position to decide the family squabble,’ Chen said at the end of Yan’s narration. ‘How about taking us to the doctor’s wing room for a quick look, Party Secretary Yan?’

  In the company of Party Secretary Yan of the Red Dust Neighborhood Committee, Chen and Jin stepped into the wing room left behind by Dr Wu.

  It was a small room of sixteen or seventeen square meters, with neither gas nor toilet, certainly not comparable to the new apartments with modern facilities. With its location in the center of the city, however, the compensation was estimated to be more than five million yuan.

  ‘Yes, these old books are covered in dust,’ Chen observed, ‘untouched possibly for years.’

  ‘And look at the dry, cracked chamber pot under the bed,’ Jin said. ‘It’s like an antique.’

  ‘In the light of the new policy,’ Yan went on, ‘as long as Doctor Wu wouldn’t budge, the other Wus were not able to get a single penny. I tried to talk him into paying them a symbolic amount. Compared with Doctor Wu, they are far from well-off. The doctor was stubborn, though, and argued that, with his wife accompanying his daughter who is studying for a degree in the United States, he had a hard time supporting them. The tuition is expensive and living costs high in New York.’

  So the two brothers nearly came to blows, Yan went on, and the sister cried and cursed like a shrew. His brother, Big-headed Wu, swore that he would kill the cold-hearted doctor, but such words were not uncommon in a heated argument. No one took them that seriously.

  But then Dr Wu was killed in the temporary parking lot at the hospital.

  ‘With Doctor Wu dead,’ Chen said, ‘who will be entitled to the compensation?’

  ‘Legally, his wife and daughter. We contacted them through WeChat. Because of the new government regulation regarding the Covid traveling restrictions, they have to apply for a special visa to return to claim it. Even if they succeed in getting a visa, there’s no direct flight from New York back to Shanghai, and they have to provide a valid Covid test – done within forty-eight hours – at the city where they transfer flights. It’s extremely difficult. Even if they managed to have it done, upon their return to Shanghai, they would spend at least three weeks in quarantine camps or quarantine hotels. In the event of a new positive case reported on the flight or in the camp, the quarantine period would be increased by an additional three weeks.

  ‘It’s out of the question for them to hurry back in time for Doctor Wu’s funeral. And the legal haggling afterward could last even longer. I happen to know all this because I discussed it with them in detail. They’re still hesitating and trying through all their connections—’

  ‘Thank you for all the work you have done for the lane residents, Party Secretary Yan. Let me ask you a different question. In the event of the doctor’s wife and daughter failing to come back to claim the compensation, who would most likely gain?’

  ‘I don’t know, but in accordance with the policy, the signed contract should be executed within two months. Otherwise, it would be forfeited or given to the next family members in line. In other words, the doctor’s brother and sister.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything more about them?’

  ‘They moved out of the lane many years ago. I know very little about them. What I do know is fragmented, mostly from the neighbors’ gossip. Big-headed Wu is said to be a good-for-nothing guy. Having never had a decent job after the Cultural Revolution, he finally got one last year, blocking or deleting those politically sensitive posts online. As for his sister, I know even less. Allegedly, she’s an ordinary housewife.’

  ‘What do you think, Chen?’ Jin said, stepping out of the office of the Red Dust Neighborhood Committee.

  ‘Big-headed Wu is the number-one suspect with an unmistakable motive; I’m positive about that. It is imperative for us to find the evidence. But what do you think, Jin?’

  ‘I’m only your little secretary. But what Yan said about Doctor Wu sounded quite credible. I mean the part about the tuition and other expenses in New York,’ Jin commented. ‘I checked the tuition fees for an MA degree in an American university. So expensive. It’s way beyond me. So I had to give up my dream of furthering my studies abroad.’

  ‘You’re young, Jin. You’ll have your opportunities in the future.’

  ‘I’m here, by your side. Why should I dream of going abroad anymore? But a large number of young people are trying desperately to leave. There’re several WeChat groups devoted to the discussion of the strategy of running – the technique of running out of China, personal experiences of running, the expense of running, and some small but helpful tricks in the course of running, and so on and so forth. The sudden trend may have quite a lot to do with the suffocating surveillance during Covid.’

  ‘Yes, it’s too much for young people. The excuse of the Covid crisis cannot justify the pushing of the state surveillance system to such an extreme. History can be really cruel. What was depicted in 1984 is literally repeating itself in China – but even more ruthlessly and inhumanly. And the Party propaganda has been playing into it so shamelessly. What worries me, Jin, is that the propaganda seems to be working, and even more so with each misstep the Western countries make in their battles with the pandemic.’

  Back at the hotel, Hou was out. Jin made phone calls in her room. Chen drifted into a nap in his room.

  He woke up with the afternoon light streaming through the shutters, forming shifting patterns on the ceiling. A surreal scene startled him out of his dreaming sleepiness. A black raven hovering over the snow-speckled window, its bill and craws beating against the pane like mad.

  He pulled out his phone from under the pillow and glanced at the time, and then out of the window again. There appeared a fine line of the bird’s footprints on the snow-covered ground. Soon, the footprints would disappear, and the snow, too. A Song dynasty poet once sighed over the scene, lamenting the transiency of things in the human world …

  His reverie was derailed by a text message from Hou, announced with a dull ding. Chen had hardly read through it when a phone call came from Jin.

  ‘You were taking a nap, Director Chen. I did not want to wake you. I called your mother. She’s perfectly all right. She said that somebody was helping with her Internet connection today, and that a businessman came over, too – a really rich one – bringing over parcels, big and small, and a lot of fresh food, and calling her “auntie” respectfully.’

  Jin was still talking in a guarded way on the phone, without mentioning the names of the two visitors. Chen thought he could guess who. But it was not likely for both of them to be at his mother’s home at the same time.