He shook a cigarette from a crumpled flip-top pack and lit it.

“It’s not easy for me,” she murmured “And it’s not just for me either.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve thought about it. It is not right-for you.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I will do my best to get your passport, I promise.”

That was the only thing he could think of saying.

“I know how much I owe you.”

“What’s a friend for?” he said, as if an invisible record of clichés had dropped onto the turntable of his mind.

“Then I’m leaving.”

“Yes, it’s late. Let me call a taxi for you.”

She lifted her face, showing glistening tears in her eyes. Her pallor made her features sharper.

Was she even more beautiful at this moment?

She bent to pull on her shoes. He helped her to her feet. They looked at each other without speaking. Presently a taxi arrived. They heard the driver honking his horn in the rain.

He insisted that she wear his raincoat. An ungainly black police raincoat with a ghostly hood.

At the doorway, she halted, turning back to him, her face almost lost under the hood. He could not see her eyes. Then she turned away. Nearly his height, she could have been taken for him in the black police raincoat. He watched the tall raincoat-wrapped figure disappearing in the mist of the rain.

Zhang Ji, a Tang dynasty poet, had written a well-known couplet: Whistling to himself, Chen opened the top drawer of his file cabinet. He had not even had a chance to take out the pearls, which shone beautifully under the light. “Returning your lustrous pearls with tears in my eyes, / Lord, I should’ve met you before I married.”

According to some critics, the poem was written at the moment when Zhang decided to decline an offer from Prime Minister Li Yuan, during the reign of Emperor Dezhong in the early eighth century. Hence there was a political analogy.

There’s nothing but interpretation, Chen thought, rubbing his nose. He did not like what he had done. She had made herself clear. It could have been the first night that he had longed for, and there would have been more. And he would not have placed himself under any obligation.

But he had said no.

Maybe he would never be able to rationalize his reaction, not even to himself.

A bicycle bell spilled into the silence of the night.

He could be logical about other people’s lives, but not about his own.

Was it possible that his decision was precipitated by the report he had read in the afternoon? There seemed to be a parallel working in his subconscious mind. He thought of Guan’s willingness to give herself to Lai before parting with him, now of Wang’s offer before leaving to join her husband in Japan.

Chief Inspector Chen had made many mistakes. Tonight’s decision might be another he would come to rue.

After all, a man is only what he has decided to do, or not to do.

Some things a man will do; some things a man will not do. It was another Confucian truism his father had taught him. Maybe deep inside, he was conservative, traditional, even old-fashioned-or politically correct. The bottom line was no.

Whatever he was going to do, whatever kind of man he was going to be, he made a pledge to himself: He was going to solve the case. That was the only way he, Chief Inspector Chen, could redeem himself.

Finally Detective Yu arrived home for dinner.

Peiqin had already finished cooking several main dishes in the public kitchen area.

“Can I help?”

“No, just go inside. Qinqin is much better today, so you may assist him with his homework.”

“Yes, it’s been two days since I took him to the hospital. He must have missed a number of classes.”

But Yu did not move immediately. He felt guilty at the sight of Peiqin busy working there, her white short-sleeved shirt molded to her sweating body. Squatting at the foot of a concrete sink, she was binding a live crab with a straw. Several Yangchen crabs were crawling noisily on the sesame-covered bottom of a wooden pail.

“You have to bind them, or the crab will shed its legs in the steaming pot,” Peiqin explained, noticing his puzzled look.

“Then why is all the sesame in the pail?”

“To keep the crabs from losing weight. Nutritious food for them. We got the crabs early in the morning.”

“So special nowadays.”

“Yes, Chief Inspector Chen is your special guest.”

The decision to invite Chen over for dinner had been Peiqin’s, but Yu had seconded it, of course. She had made it for his sake, since it was she who had to prepare everything in their single room of eleven square meters. Still, she had insisted.

Last night, he had told Peiqin about the bureau Party Committee meeting the previous day. Commissar Zhang had grumbled about his lackluster attitude, which was not something new. At the meeting, however, Zhang went so far as to suggest to the Party Committee that Yu be replaced. Zhang’s suggestion was discussed in earnest. Yu was not a committee member, so not in the position to defend himself. With the investigation bogged down, switching horses might help, or at least shift responsibility. Party Secretary Li seemed ready to agree. Yu did not have his heart in the case, but his removal would have caused a domino effect. His fate would have been sealed- according to Lieutenant Lao, who had attended the meeting- but for Chief Inspector Chen’s intervention. Chen surprised the committee members by making a speech on Yu’s behalf, arguing that different opinions regarding a case were normal, reflecting the democracy of our Party, and that it did not detract at all from Detective Yu’s worth as a capable police officer, “if people are not happy with the way the investigation is going,” Chen had concluded, “I’m the one to take responsibility. Fire me.” So it had been due to Chen’s emotional plea that Yu remained in the special case group.

Lao’s information came as a surprise to Yu, who had not expected such staunch support from his superior.

“Your chief inspector knows how to speak the Party language,” Peiqin said quietly.

“Yes, he does. Luckily, this time on my behalf,” he said.

“What about inviting him to dinner? The restaurant is going to have two bushels of live crabs, Yangchen Lake crabs, at the state price. I can bring a dozen home, and I will just need to add several side dishes.”

“That’s a good idea. But it will be too much work for you.”

“No. It’s fun to have a guest once in a while. I’ll make a meal that your chief inspector won’t forget.”

And more or less to his surprise, Chen had accepted his invitation readily, adding that he would like to discuss something with Yu afterward.

It was really turning out to be too much work for Peiqin, Yu stood there thinking somberly, watching her moving busily around in the confined space. Their portion of the public kitchen area contained no more than a coal stove and a small table with a makeshift bamboo cabinet hung on the wall. There was hardly room for her to put down all the bowls and plates.

“Go into our room,” she repeated. “Don’t stand here watching me.”

The table in their room, set for dinner, presented an impressive sight. Chopsticks, spoons, and small plates were aligned with folded paper napkins. A tiny brass hammer and a glass bowl of water stood in the middle. It was not exactly a dining table though, for it was also the table on which Peiqin made clothes for the family, where Qinqin did his homework, and where Yu examined bureau files.

He made himself a cup of green tea, perched on the arm of the sofa, and took a small sip.

They lived in an old-fashioned two storied shikumen house-an architectural style popular in the early thirties, when such a house had been built for one family. Now, sixty years later, it was inhabited by more than a dozen, with all the rooms subdivided to accommodate more and more people. Only the black-painted front door remained the same, opening into a small courtyard littered with odds and ends, a sort of common junk yard, which led to a high-ceilinged hall flanked by the eastern and western wings. This once spacious hall had long since been converted to a public kitchen and storage area. The two rows of coal stoves with piles of coal briquettes indicated that seven families lived on the first floor.