To say the least, it must have more than awed the guards shivering at the subdivision entrance.

  ‘Oh, it’s Hou!’ Jin exclaimed.

  The man stepping out of the car was Hou Guohua, Deputy Chief of Staff of the Shanghai Government. A well-connected Party official on a rapid rise to power. It was unimaginable that Hou would come to visit Chen, a man out of favor with the Party.

  ‘You’re at home, Director Chen?’ Hou was saying on Chen’s phone.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Great. Wait for me. Oh, I’m Hou Guohua of the city government. We have met. I’m coming up and will see you in two or three minutes.’

  It was utterly unexpected. Chen and Jin exchanged worried glances.

  ‘You may have seen Hou in the building of the city government, Jin.’

  ‘Yes. But what could be the purpose of his unannounced visit?’

  ‘He did not say.’

  ‘Is it because of the poem?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. I wish I had the talent to write a sonnet like that, but I don’t.’

  Then why all the fuss right now? Was Hou here to announce that Chen was to be shuangguied – detained for an unspecific period of time at an unspecific location? It was a sort of secret arrest of Party cadres, done for unrevealed reasons. The CCP government had too many reasons to be mad with him. ‘I think you’d better leave right now, Jin.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No, I’ll stay here with you. I’m your secretary, Director Chen, whatever may be happening—’

  She did not finish the sentence. It was an unmistakable message to him. She knew he was in trouble, way over his head. But whatever might be happening, she would be there, standing by his side.

  A knock. Chen opened the door. It was Hou standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear, reaching out his hand, a tall, lanky man in his early forties.

  Chen had met Hou in the city government meetings. He was said to be closely connected with Internal Security, as well as with powerful people inside the Forbidden City, though they had hardly talked to each other.

  This afternoon, Hou appeared to be all smiles. Still, he turned out to be ‘the one that immediately opens the door to the mountains,’ coming straight to the point.

  ‘We need your help, Director Chen – oh, our celebrated Chief Inspector Chen, I should say. This is also the decision of the city government. It’s a request I know you will not say no to.’

  It sounded ominous. The former chief inspector had no wish to comply immediately without being given any concrete information. But nor was he willing to do anything in the way of ‘building a literature prison,’ a notorious practice in Chinese history. Dynasty after dynasty, men of letters were thrown into prison for anything judged to have negative energy or an anti-emperor stance.

  China changes, China does not change.

  It was then Hou noticed Jin in the room, standing barefoot in slippers behind Chen. Hou eyed the two of them, questioningly, without asking any questions.

  ‘I’m here to report on the office work to Director Chen,’ Jin said respectfully. ‘I think I should leave, Chief Hou?’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t,’ Chen cut in. ‘All the office work depends on you.’

  ‘Put the office work aside for the time being, Director Chen,’ Hou said to Chen instead of responding to Jin. ‘There’s a terrible serial murder case facing us at this very moment. Murder in the time of Covid.’

  ‘What!’ It sounded like the name of a novel, but Chen chose not to say anything more.

  It surely took much more than a serial murder case for a big shot like Hou to hurry over in person – in a Red Flag! – to visit the former inspector on leave.

  ‘We have to solve this serial murder case as quickly as possible. You’ll serve as the number-one consultant to the special team for the investigation. In reality, you’ll lead the team, and I’ll just help by your side. I have no experience whatsoever in the investigation of murder, you know.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about the case, Chief Hou,’ Chen demurred. ‘And I’m still on convalescent leave.’

  ‘Just call me Hou. I’m younger than you, not to mention that you’re higher in the cadre rank and you have done so much more as a legendary chief inspector. Considering your experience and expertise dealing with serial murder cases, you’re the only one for the job,’ Hou went on without heeding Chen’s objections. ‘Not too long ago, there was another hospital-related case with facemasks purposely left at the crime scenes, and you cracked the case so brilliantly in just a few days.’

  ‘You flatter me, Hou. As a matter of fact, it was Detective Yu who cracked that case. I was too busy with something else at the time – acting as a sort of local tourist guide for Comrade Zhao in Shanghai, I remember.’

  ‘Oh, Comrade Zhao of the Central Party Discipline Committee. Indeed, he has always spoken highly of you. And earlier today, too. We have consulted him about your leading role in the investigation, and he totally agreed with us. So you are being way too modest about yourself. Detective Yu told us everything about your work in the facemask serial murder case. It’s all to your credit. Not to mention the other serial murder investigation you did several years ago. The Red Mandarin Dress case. A lot of Shanghai people know about it.’

  Hou and his people had done their homework. It was no surprise that Detective Yu would not withhold the credit for the mask murder case, but it gave the city government an extra excuse to coerce the former chief inspector into taking the job.

  ‘Tell me more about the case, Hou,’ Chen said. ‘I may be able to make some suggestions.’

  It was not a commitment on his part, he thought. Still, it could have sounded good enough for Hou, who readily went into a detailed account of the still-developing serial murder case.

  The first murder happened near the front entrance of Renji Hospital. About a week after the news of the Shanghai Covid outbreak hit the official media, a hospital Party propaganda cadre surnamed Ouyang was killed near the front of the hospital with a blunt object, which crushed the back of his skull into a pulp. It happened deep in the night. Normally, few would have been moving around at that late hour, but for the last couple of weeks, people had occasionally been seen lingering around because of the pandemic. The choice of location of the attack could have been premeditated, but the reason for it was beyond the grasp of Hou and his people.

  As the murder was committed at a top hospital, a police team had been dispatched there by the Shanghai Police Bureau. One of the first theories surfacing among the cops attributed the motive to a medical dispute.

  In recent years, medical disputes between patients and hospital staff had become increasingly common and violent. With the so-called reform of the medical system, hospitals had to make a profit to ensure their survival. A variety of new practices came into being. Among them, the regulation that spelled out that patients had to make a large downpayment before they were admitted into the emergency room. State medical insurance covered only a small part of the expense, and once the money was used up, even patients who had already been admitted could be driven out.

  People also had to hand over bulging red envelopes to experienced doctors to obtain better treatment. Not to mention the extra burden of the obscenely expensive medicine prescribed by doctors, who collaborated with sales agents from large pharmaceutical companies.

  As a result, a large number of patients and their family members could not help but feel resentful toward the hospital staff. It led to more and more medical disputes, which were sometimes violent or fatal.

  Before the cops were able to get anywhere in that direction with their investigation, they witnessed the unbelievable Covid surge. This precipitated the whole hospital into utter mayhem, with patients pouring in helter-skelter as if it was the end of the world, and the doctors and nurses turning into ‘the most beloved people’ in the Party’s propaganda materials.

  About a week later, a young nurse surnamed Huang was killed with a similar murder weapon in a side street that was little more than a lane, fairly close to the spot where the first victim fell. Usually, only hospital staff would choose to take a shortcut through there. The murderer had to be familiar with the surroundings, the cops concluded. A first-time visitor would have had no idea about the existence of the narrow side street.

  At once, it pointed to a new scenario: a possible serial murder case.

  ‘But it could have been a coincidence,’ Chen commented for the first time. ‘A propaganda cadre and a young nurse.’

  Undisturbed, Hou went on with his narration. The two murders soon attracted attention, even in the midst of the coronavirus breakout. The city government came under a lot of pressure. With the virus running amok, preventing doctors and nurses from turning into prey became a matter of ultimate political importance. Chen’s former colleagues in the police bureau failed, however, to make any progress.

  ‘It’s a huge blow to the morale of the doctors and nurses in Renji Hospital. And in other Shanghai hospitals, too,’ Hou said somberly in conclusion. ‘People have been suffering a great deal in the Covid crisis, and doctors and nurses have been working so hard to save lives at a huge risk to themselves. How could we let a serial murder case go on like that?’

  Chen listened without making any other comment. And he remained silent for several minutes before he looked up, tapping his finger on the desk. ‘Two murder cases near the hospital do not necessarily make a serial murder case—’

  ‘But early this morning, the body of a senior heart surgeon working at Renji Hospital was found in the hospital’s temporary parking lot,’ Hou cut in. ‘Details are still trickling in. We cannot afford to wait with our arms crossed any longer, Director Chen.’

  ‘But I cannot get out like before,’ Chen protested. ‘My subdivision has strict rules about its residents going out only two or three times a week. And Jin has just told me that, starting from tomorrow, the city subway system may be shut down—’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about that, Director Chen. A special permit is being issued for you to go anywhere. And we have made a special arrangement for you. Bearing in mind the transportation problem, we have booked one floor of a hotel close to the hospital. You can walk over to the hospital in just two or three minutes.’

  ‘A hotel close to the hospital?’

  ‘Wu Palace Hotel on Fuzhou Road. It’s not five-star, but it’s quite decent and convenient.’

  ‘Wu Palace Hotel—’ The scene of several luxurious cars parked there flashed into Chen’s mind. It made sense now. And there was little he could think of saying against the assignment, whether he was willing or not to take it.

  ‘But Director Chen is still on convalescent leave, still down with a weak immune system,’ Jin cut in. ‘Not to mention the fact that he has to oversee the work of the office as well.’

  ‘We have taken that into consideration, of course. He does not have to do any field work. He will simply be an expert consultant on the case. Since you’re here today, Jin, I think you too may check into the hotel along with him. It’s the number-one priority for you to take good care of Director Chen, and to help him with the important investigation.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘If necessary, you can still go back to the office from time to time,’ Hou said. ‘It’ll be flexible for you. Needless to say, not a single word about the investigation to others, Jin.’ Hou turned toward Chen again. ‘Let’s move. The car is waiting for you downstairs.’

  Day 1 Afternoon

  Such a starry night, but alas, it’s not

  last night, for whom I am

  standing out alone, long,

  long into the night, careless

  of the chilly dew and wind.

  – Huang Jingren

  No appearance of yesterday. No appearance

  of today. No appearance of tomorrow.

  – Diamond Sutra

  Fish, I want to eat, and bear paw, too. When I cannot get both of them, I’ll give up fish for bear paw. Life, I want to have, and justice too. When I cannot get both of them, I’ll give up life for justice.

  – Mencius

  A three-year-old boy suddenly fell sick at home in a subdivision under lockdown. The father wanted to send his son to hospital, but under the zero-Covid policy there was no way to get out without a valid Covid test done within the past 24 hours – and even if they managed to escape, no hospital would admit the boy. The Big Whites were entrusted with the government power to maintain the lockdown so tight that not a mosquito could fly in or out. The boy was losing consciousness, so the desperate father called for ambulances, pacing about like an ant crawling around in a wok above the fire, but there was no response.

  He managed to carry the boy to the subdivision exit, pulling him on a tricycle. He started crying and begging to the Big Whites. No use. Then the neighbors hurried out to the exit too, and some of them started protesting against the inhuman zero-Covid measures. But the Big Whites called in reinforcements, pushing and beating the protestors, who fought back by recording the bloody scene and posting videos online. It triggered the ‘big trouble mode’ for the police. Consequently, an ambulance came, but too late; the boy was dead.

  – The Wuhan File

  So it was that Jin found herself sitting straight, as stiff as a bamboo pole, between Hou and Chen in the pompous Red Flag. Chen said little in the car, busy doing something on his phone instead. Hou put in his earbuds, taking one call after another.

  They arrived at a medium-sized hotel with a gold sign declaring Wu Palace Hotel. It looked as if the hotel had been converted from an old building at the corner of Fuzhou and Fujian Roads. Not fancy by today’s standards, but with an excellent location at the center of the city. It was about a ten-minute walk to Nanjing Road, the crowded and prosperous pedestrian street; a seven- or eight-minute walk to the Bund, which was lined with grand neoclassical buildings; and about the same distance to the People’s Square, where the Shanghai City Government Building stood.

  She could easily walk from the hotel to the office, Jin observed.

  The hotel lobby turned out to be quite impressive, with a huge oil painting of a sturdy pine standing proud against white clouds in the Yellow Mountains – a popular theme in traditional Chinese landscaping – stretching out on the white wall behind the shining, spiraling stairs.

  ‘The Yellow Mountains,’ she murmured.

  For once, they did not have to worry about registering with their IDs. Hou must have taken care of everything prior to their arrival at the hotel. The front desk manager, a nervous woman in her late forties, refrained from asking them any questions, readily handing each of them a room card and stammering in embarrassment, ‘Sorry, the guests are being moved out at such short notice that the rooms have not been properly cleaned. You need to wait for a while. There are no less than ten people in your team, you know. There’s a lot for us to do.’

  ‘Let’s find a place to sit for a while. The room will be ready soon,’ Hou said, leading them toward the hotel canteen.

  ‘The first floor once served as a seafood restaurant,’ Chen commented, always the gourmet. ‘Several years ago, I dined here with a friend from Beijing late one winter night. We could not find another place still open at the time. To my pleasant surprise, I actually had the best steamed bass with slices of green onion and golden ginger here.’

  The other team members were already waiting there. Some of them were from the Shanghai Police Bureau and greeted Chen cordially; not so the others. They were more likely from Internal Security. Chen knew better than to ask Hou, Jin thought. And none of them walked over to join the table where Hou, Chen, and she had sat down.

  Jin thought of the dramatically changing situation with a touch of unpleasant irony. Moving into the hotel had actually turned out to serve as an ideal solution to her problems.

  She could help to take care of Chen, as Hou had declared.

  She no longer had to worry about taking one subway train after another, or about being unable to take trains because of the frequent cancellations. She was able to walk to the office.

  And, last but not least, she could study, at a close range, how the former inspector conducted the investigation into the serial murders in the time of Covid.

  ‘And the Apricot Blossom Pavilion is just half a block away, on the same side of Fuzhou Road,’ Chen said to her, almost like a tourist guide. ‘It’s really well known for their Guangdong cuisine specials.’

  ‘What an insatiable gourmet you are, Director Chen!’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard about the restaurant, too,’ Hou chipped in with an obliging chuckle. ‘They produce the most popular and expensive moon cakes in Shanghai.’

  ‘In my childhood, I used to live in an area close to the restaurant. My mother took me there quite a few times,’ Chen said.

  Unwilling to discuss sensitive details of the serial murder case in the presence of the other team members, the three of them seemed to enjoy their chit-chat among themselves.

  But there was one thing that Hou discussed with the two of them in earnest. It was important, Hou declared, for Jin to help Chen download the latest apps on to his phone, in addition to an online conference app. There was no telling when they, too, would have to stay in isolation in their respective rooms. In the meantime, it was not a bad idea for the team to maintain as much social distancing as possible. If the whole city went into lockdown, with all the gruesome rules and regulations, most of the case discussions would have to be carried out through virtual conferences.