The Mao Case by Qiu Xiaolong Read Free Book Online

Cultural Revolution, when Chen was still in elementary school. For this case,
     Chen thought he’d better sound out the old man first. People had very different opinions of Mao. In these days of increasingly
     rampant corruption and an ever-enlarging gap between the rich and poor, some were beginning to miss Mao, imagining that they
     had had better days under him. The utopian society of egalitarianism as advocated by Mao remained attractive to a lot of people.
     If Old Hunter was so inclined, Chen would not even broach the subject. They would meet simply for a pot of tea.
    Back at the table, the blank thank-you card struck him as an equally difficult job. He didn’t know what to say, but he had
     another idea. He might send a present to Ling rather than a card, just as she had. A message in the absence of a message.
    Yet another knock came at the door. This time it was only Shen’s introduction letter with his signature plus a red seal at
     the bottom. Shen recommended Chen warmly, raving about his business career and literary interests. As represented in the letter,
     Chen was ready to settle down to work on a literary project about Shanghai in the thirties.
    His cover story was another weird coincidence. Chen recalled Ouyang, a friend he had met in Guangzhou, saying something similar
     except that Ouyang was a real businessman, who never made enough money to work on a literary project.

FIVE
    IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON, Chen arrived at Shaoxing Road, a quiet street lined with old magnificent buildings behind high walls.
    It was an area he was relatively familiar with because of a publishing house located nearby. Still, behind the high walls,
     behind the shuttered windows, the houses seemed to be hinting at mysterious, inexplicable stories within.
    Instead of heading directly to Xie Mansion, he went across the street, into a miniature café. It must have been converted
     from a residential room and had only three or four tables inside. A narrow bar sporting several coffee makers and wine racks
     took up one third of the space. He cast a curious look toward the partition at the back of the room. The proprietor apparently
     lived in the space behind the partition wall.
    He chose a table by the window. For the party in the late afternoon, Chen had put on a pair of rimless glasses, changed his
     hairstyle, and donned an expensive suit of light material. The people there probably wouldn’t recognize him except for the
     one from Internal Security.
While Chen was known in his own circle, he thought those at the party would be a different lot, and he looked at his window
     reflection with a touch of ironical amusement. Clothing makes, if not a man, at least the role for a man.
    A young girl emerged from behind a door in the partition wall, through which Chen caught a glimpse of a back door that led
     into a lane. She looked like a middle school student, helping the family business, serving coffee to his table with a sweet
     smile. The coffee was expensive, but it tasted fresh and strong.
    Sipping at the coffee, he dialed the Shanghai Writers’ Association. A young secretary answered the phone. She was quite cooperative
     but knew little about Diao, the author of
Cloud and Rain in Shanghai
. Diao was not a member of the association and had become known to the association only after the book’s publication. She
     checked through files and said that Diao might have been invited to a literary meeting somewhere, but she didn’t exactly know
     where. Diao wasn’t in Shanghai, of that much she was sure.
    Chen followed up by making a long-distance call to Wang, the chairman of the Chinese Writers’ Association in Beijing, asking
     him to find out the whereabouts of Diao. Wang promised to call back as soon as he learned anything.
    Placing the phone by the coffee cup, Chen took out the file on Xie, turning to the part about the history of the mansion.
    A lot had happened to the prestigious buildings in this area. In the early fifties,