‘Yes, the bigger picture, I know. I myself must have used the term to others so many times. Isn’t it ironic?’

  ‘It’s not fair to you – I mean, the scenario represented in the official statement,’ Hou said. ‘I argued with them, but they kept saying that, looking at the bigger picture, the top priority for China today is to maintain political stability in the midst of our hard and heroic battle against the deadly virus.’

  So much evil and harm had been done in the name of the bigger picture, the frame of which was, and is, made of the CCP’s interests.

  ‘And that’s one of the main reasons that we had to enlist your help from the very beginning. Comrade Zhao, our respected retired General Secretary of the Central Party Discipline Committee, called from Beijing, making the point emphatically.

  ‘“Comrade Chen Cao is a loyal, trustworthy comrade, capable of taking the bigger picture into consideration. He understands. I’m going to call him in a couple of days.” Comrade Zhao has always thought so highly of you, you know.’

  So they must have asked Comrade Zhao for help. Once an alleged political patron of Chen within the Forbidden City, Comrade Zhao had not contacted him in the shifting political landscape for quite a long while.

  ‘But do you think people will buy an official statement like that?’ Chen said broodingly. ‘Regarding the third murder, it may have a ring of truth, but for the two other murders, the statement offers no credible details at all. This could easily backfire.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Director Chen. With your name in the foreground, it will prove to be credible enough to a lot of people. Besides, the way the Covid crisis is developing, the people of Shanghai will soon forget about this or that case. A bit of speculation about the concluded murder case may actually help to divert people’s attention from what’s happening before their eyes.’

  ‘The horror! The horror!’ Chen murmured inaudibly, as if echoing from the savage, dark jungle of a novel he had read years ago.

  Hou hastened to take two bulging envelopes out of the safety box in the hotel room closet. ‘You’ve spent quite a lot out of your own pocket in the course of the investigation, and put in a lot of overtime, we all know. Don’t argue about it. This is the reimbursement from the city government. The mayor has approved the amount. The other envelope is for Jin. She’s a nice and capable young secretary, running errands for you, meeting people when it’s not convenient for you to meet them, and proving to be so helpful and loyal to you.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Of course, she does not have to know all the details about the conclusion of the case. Whatever you choose to tell her, I think she’ll understand. She adores you, I know.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about it, Hou.’

  ‘But back to what we were discussing.’ Hou coughed before resuming in all seriousness, ‘China’s political and social stability is more important than ever. It’s not a moment for pointing the finger at those who are to blame for the collateral damage in this unprecedented Covid time. The virus keeps attacking people anytime and anywhere. They deserve relief from living with the horror of a serial murderer prowling around the city of Shanghai.’

  There was something in Hou’s argument.

  But was there something else in Hou’s argument?

  Chen emerged from Hou’s suite. Instead of going down to the canteen, he went back into his room and closed the door behind him.

  As before, the CCP had used him, by hook or by crook, for nothing but the Party’s interests. It was a bitter reality he had to face. The city government was anxious to assure the Shanghai people that with the murderers caught, everything would be all right with the world again. In the caption beneath such a large picture of social and political stability, former Chief Inspector Chen’s name had to appear in one or two lines.

  All of a sudden, he thought of a figure he had recently read. The annual cost of maintaining China’s stability was twenty-one billion yuan, a sum even larger than China’s military expenses. Perhaps it was little wonder. For its continuing dictatorship, the CCP totalitarian regime could not afford any disruption in political stability. He did not doubt any more about the shocking expense, having seen the extensive surveillance equipment – not just the cameras, computers, but also the green, red, and yellow Covid codes, back or gait recognition technology, as well as the state-paid grassroots of the neighborhood committees, the quarantine camps, and the new organizations like the Little Red Guards and Big Whites. As well as the two bulging red envelopes Hou had just pushed into his hands, though that was less than a sand grain in the bigger picture.

  In the past, his investigations were more often than not compromised in the name of the bigger picture and ended up serving the interests of the CCP. But unlike before, Chen wanted to fight back this time, no matter how impossible the odds.

  It marked a point of no return for him.

  Moving back to the desk, the former chief inspector took out The Wuhan File again.

  At nine thirty, more for brunch than lunch – as Hou had scheduled earlier in a WeChat summons – Hou called a special team meeting in the canteen.

  Chen and Jin were sitting at the same table, and Hou was standing in the center of the canteen.

  Hou must have reported his earlier discussion with Chen to the city government. As it seemed to Hou, the former chief inspector was upset with the official statement, but he had accepted it, albeit grudgingly. At least he was not trying to say anything in contradiction to the statement.

  As for Jin, she could have just woken up, appearing slightly pale in the light.

  ‘Morning,’ Hou said, smiling at her.

  ‘Morning, Chief Hou,’ Jin responded.

  As before, the canteen began to serve a variety of brunch delicacies on the tables. For a change, it was an impressive array of well-selected street food. Like Hou, the canteen chef was now familiar with Chen’s favorites.

  ‘Our special investigation has successfully reached a conclusion. I’ve emailed you all an official statement made in the name of the city government. In the course of the investigation, you may have heard speculation about the case. Thanks to the help of Director Chen, we’ve got to the bottom of it and arrested the murderers. So, from today on, whatever we may say to others about the case, it should be absolutely in line with the statement from the city government. It’s a matter of Party discipline, you understand?’

  ‘We understand!’ all the team members said in chorus, except for Chen and Jin, who was reading the statement on her phone, knitting her smooth brows.

  ‘Tomorrow we’re going to check out of the Wu Palace Hotel. Our team gets a day off today,’ Hou announced with pride. ‘You do whatever you like in the cordoned area in the center of the city.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Chen said, chewing at a fried dough stick fresh out of the wok, still the undisturbed gourmet. ‘Our hard-working team deserves a break.’

  ‘And once again, I want to express our gratitude on behalf of the city government to Director Chen, for his extraordinary contribution to the swift conclusion of the murder cases. Our mayor has called me and said that the city government will grant him a gold award of the first merit. Congratulations, Comrade Director Chen!’

  A long round of warm applause burst out in the canteen.

  ‘And the mayor also wants to thank every member of our special team for their wonderful work.’

  ‘So, for the break, each of us may do something different today, right?’ Jin said, regaining her composure, licking at her slender yet oily fingers, like a ‘little secretary’ in people’s imagination.

  ‘Yes, I’ll take care of the wrapping up here, and you may choose to do whatever you like. Once again, a reminder: as this has been a special, confidential investigation, we are not to reveal anything we have seen or heard in the course of it. And, I almost forgot, every member of the team shall have a thousand yuan as a bonus for concluding the case.’

  Another long round of warm applause rose in the canteen.

  ‘For me, I’ll choose to go to the bookstore across the street,’ Chen said. ‘Now it’s the end of the investigation, I think I should proceed with the poetry translation project. That’s the least I can do for the people of Wuhan. I’ll do some research in the bookstore and purchase more books.’

  ‘It’s a good opportunity for me to learn more from our encyclopedic Director Chen,’ Jin said. ‘So I’ll go there with him. An opportunity I cannot afford to miss!’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, Jin,’ Hou said. ‘I would love to go to the bookstore with you two, but there’s such a lot of paperwork to do at the conclusion of cases, as I’m sure you know, Director Chen.’

  ‘There’re things a man will do, and things he will not do,’ Chen said with a bogus bookishness.

  ‘You can say that again. It’s your favorite quote, I know, and now it’s mine, too.’ Hou then turned to Jin. ‘I don’t think there will be anything urgent today. Take your time browsing the poetry collections with him.’

  ‘Yes, let’s go to the bookstore after brunch,’ she said simply.

  The two stepped out of the Wu Palace Hotel. It was not too cold. The sunlight burning gold, Chen squeezed his eyes against the light, as if wondering whether they could collect the moment into an album. Jin touched Chen’s hand lightly.

  Chen wondered what he should say to Jin.

  ‘Finally, we are going to the Foreign Language Bookstore,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we have talked so many times about making a visit to the bookstore. But as it turned out, it’s not until after the end of the investigation that we are finally able to get into the bookstore.’

  ‘It reminds me of an old saying, Chen, I think you told me in the Yellow Mountains. Eight or nine times out of ten, things in this world may not work out the way you have planned.’

  Was that also a subtle reference to the ‘successful’ conclusion of the investigation?

  Along Fuzhou Road, traces of the melting snow were still visible on the street. There was a blue sky with white clouds drifting nonchalantly to the horizon, which was partially obscured by the imposing skyscrapers across the river. The street appeared so peaceful, as if spreading its tranquility to tempt the city to remain at peace, or failing that, at least like a spendthrift offering to a thankless world.

  ‘In the long-ago days of my English studies at Bund Park,’ Chen started with a faraway look in his eyes, ‘it was after Nixon’s visit to China, I remember, at the beginning of the seventies. I often visited the bookstore on my way back from Bund Park. It’s a street that was once so familiar to me. The government policy seemed to have changed just a little at the time. At least an official English study program popped up on the Shanghai People’s Radio, and in the bookstore you could find “official” pirate copies of English dictionaries and grammar books on the second floor, such as the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary by A.S. Hornby. It was an open secret.’

  ‘I’ve heard about the dictionary,’ she said.

  ‘It’s the very dictionary I still use today. Of course, the second floor of the bookstore was not accessible to foreigners. Occasionally, there were also second-hand English novels or poems – not pirate copies – possibly bought from old families in the city of Shanghai.’

  ‘You are getting more and more nostalgic, my sentimental director.’

  ‘Then a new wave of English studies became politically acceptable. There was an “English corner” in the park for young people gathering to study English. It was politically encouraged during those years. Who would have thought that it would come to be officially discouraged and banned today!’

  ‘Even the English subway signs have been changed to Pinying, the Chinese Romanization,’ Jin said. ‘How could international visitors understand them? You want to make it convenient for international tourists to move around, not get them lost in characters they don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, it’s called “cultural confidence,” but it’s absurd. History has come round full circle. And it’s the beginning of the end now, I’m afraid,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘In a corresponding irony, the Wuhan poetry translation project happened to fall in line with the CCP’s new propaganda, “Let Chinese literature go out to the world.”’

  ‘But it was a politically correct cover for your investigation in secret. Ironically, this time they actually wanted you to focus on the serial murder investigation.’

  ‘Cover or not, I still want to check how many translations of Tang poetry are available. Such books are not best sellers. They could hardly be found in online bookstores.’

  To their annoyance, the Shanghai Foreign Language Bookstore had changed its business hours to ten thirty a.m. to four p.m. So they had to wait outside for several minutes. It was cold for them to be standing and waiting outside. Jin tucked Chen’s gray cashmere scarf more securely into his overcoat. They looked at each other. She touched his cold face tentatively, with her warm, damp fingers pulled out of her soft leather gloves.

  He thought of a beautifully sentimental metaphor in Zhuangzi. ‘Two fish salivating each other for survival in a dry rut.’ In contemporary Chinese, people say, ‘Holding each other tight for warmth.’

  With the bookstore’s metal shutters rolling up in a rumble, they stepped inside. Like everywhere else, the bookstore must have been installed with numerous high-quality surveillance cameras for international visitors.

  Chen checked through the poetry shelves, murmuring the book names like a pedantic scholar, browsing, and flicking through the pages. He kept waving a finger up and down, as if beating the rhythm like a poet monk represented in his Judge Dee novella. He had his reasons to appear like a bookish man, Jin guessed. To his pleasant surprise, he discovered a copy of his Judge Dee book, titled The Shadow of the Empire, and showed it to her almost boyishly before he turned to retrieve another copy of the Tang poetry collection. Standing or squatting beside him, Jin tried to look like a helpful, respectful secretary, continuously nodding.

  ‘You see. That’s the English translation of “The Yellow Crane Tower” in Wuhan,’ he commented. ‘The original poem was praised as the number-one poem in the Tang dynasty. A must read for the tourists climbing up the celebrated tower in Wuhan. But the translation in this collection totally fails to do it justice.’

  ‘You’ll do a better job, my poet-translator.’

  Carrying several copies of poetry translations in a plastic bag, she emerged from the store holding his hand.

  Outside, he started telling her about the earlier discussion he’d had with Hou and the official statement regarding the conclusion of the case. Hou had suggested that Chen did not have to tell her everything, did not have to contradict the official statement, but she was not one of the others, having worked closely with him all the way through the investigation, playing a pivotal role in it, too – and to him, much more than that. So he had to come out with all the dirty political details.

  It was a fairly long narration, and he kept observing her expression. Anyway, she should know the details of the so-called conclusion, he thought, however disappointing and frustrating.

  At the end of his narration, she restrained herself from making any immediate comment, like an exemplary secretary who knew what to say and what not.

  ‘At the conclusion of the Renji Hospital murder investigation, I have also finished the sample page translation of The Wuhan File. After Molong has sent it out today, you should take a good break, too, Jin.’

  ‘Well, what else can I do for you today, Chen?’

  ‘Sorry, Jin. I’ve dragged you so deep into the mire—’

  ‘Here you go again, Chen,’ Jin said quietly, looking up. ‘Can you accompany me to Bund Park today? It’s a park with a very special meaning to you, in connection with the bookstore. You’ve talked about it several times.’

  ‘Anything you want to do today, Jin. Let us go then, you and I.’

  So Chen found himself making another trip toward Bund Park with a young, vivacious girl walking by his side, arm in arm, her head leaning lightly on his shoulder.

  He had not visited the park for a long time.

  They moved east along Fuzhou Road and past Henan Road. He pointed to an impressive building across the street. ‘That used to be the Shanghai Police Bureau – at least, it was when I started working after college graduation. Now it’s a courthouse.’

  ‘So that’s all the judicial system reform is about, right?’

  He did not miss the sarcasm in her question. ‘But something else has changed, Jin. Near the front gate of the former Shanghai Police Bureau, there once stood a tall plane tree. A bookish man, I looked up at it, sighing, “The tree has grown so high, but what have I done? Now the tree is also gone, I do not know why.”’

  ‘Well, uprooted possibly because in the Shanghai dialect, it’s called the French Wutong tree. How could they allow it to stand in front of the majestic Shanghai Supreme Court?’

  She was sharp. Walking beside her, he truly felt he was too bookish.

  At the end of Henan Road, they came in view of the Bund. It presented chilly, deserted scenes all around. The Bund was seen as a symbol of Shanghai, the ‘magical city.’ The magic gone, the zero-Covid policy was strangling the city.

  Bund Park was no exception. She wondered at its desolation and clasped his hand as they walked in.

  ‘Where is the green bench you used to sit on here, Chen?’

  ‘Oh, those hard benches are long gone. You can only find those soft-cushioned chairs in the expensive cafés and restaurants. But they’re locked up because of the pandemic. Let’s stand by the railings overlooking the river.’