“I’m too old-fashioned, I’m afraid.”

“You are special.” She stood up and began to put the leftovers into the refrigerator. “Well, I’d better do something to make sure Mr. Gu gets his money’s worth.”

“I do have something for you to do: Can you check the definitions of these words for me? It will save me a lot of time. You don’t have to do it right now. In the evening, if you have time, after your class, will be fine. “

“Sure. I can learn quite a few new words for myself.”

The telephone started ringing. She picked it up instantly like a secretary. “Chen Residence.”

“Oh.” There was a pause. “I’m Detective Yu. I want to speak to Chief Inspector Chen.”

“Hold on.” She turned toward Chen, the receiver covered by her hand, whispering in his ear, “Detective Yu. Do you want to speak to him?”

“Of course,” he said.

“Sorry to bother you, boss,” Yu said in a hesitant voice.

“Come on, Yu. What can I do for you?” He said to White Cloud in a low voice, “You may leave now. I will call you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be here to make breakfast for you,” she said. “See you.”

“See you. Don’t worry about breakfast.”

“You’ve got company?” Yu asked, delicately.

“A little secretary.” Chen added, “I’m working on a difficult translation. She will help me.”

“A xiaomi!” Yu did not try to disguise the surprise in his voice.

“Gu insisted on sending her over to help,” he said. Yu might be the only one for whom he did not have to go into detail. “Have you examined the murder scene?”

“Yes, I did. But there was not much I could see, as I told you. Judging from the time of the murder and the fact that no stranger was seen entering or leaving the building around that time, it looks like the murderer might be one of the shikumen residents. That’s Old Liang’s opinion too.”

“Have you ruled out every other possibility?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, regarding the residents of the building, what possible motives are there?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Yu said. “I have checked with Shanghai Literature Publishing House. She did not earn much from her novel. I found a little money in her desk drawers, but also some correspondence with people abroad. I’m not sure whether she was working on another project. Perhaps another controversial book.”

That would really make this a political case. Was she working on something the government-or someone in the government- might have tried to keep from coming out?

“As for her contacts abroad, Internal Security must have a file. They can be quite effective in their own way.” Chen would not say more over the phone.

“They surely can. They beat me to the crime scene and searched her room, but they haven’t told us what they were looking for.”

“It could be just routine practice for Internal Security if a dissident has been killed. If they left those letters in the drawer, there probably was nothing in them to worry about.”

“Another thing. I did not find a checkbook in her room,” Yu said. “If the murderer took it, he would have withdrawn the money from her account immediately. So far, there’s no report of an account in her name from which there have been withdrawals.”

“The murderer might have been too scared to go to the bank, or Yin may have kept all her valuables in a safe deposit box.”

“Safe deposit?” Yu said. “I’ve only read about them in one of the English mysteries you translated.”

“Well, you can find everything in Shanghai now. Pay a certain amount, and the bank will keep valuables in a small safe for you.”

“I’ll check into it. But first I will go to her college this afternoon; there is nothing unusual in her college file though.” Yu added, “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything. Thanks, Chief.”

The rest of Chen’s afternoon was uneventful except for several more phone calls. The first was from Gu.

“How is everything, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“It’s going slowly, but steadily. I mean the progress of the translation, if that’s what you are asking about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that. The project is in good hands, I know.” Gu said with a chuckle, “What about White Cloud?”

“Quite helpful,” Chen said, “but she should concentrate on her studies. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to come here every day.”

“If you don’t need her, send her back. I just thought it might be a good idea for her to help you. As for her, she should consider herself lucky to have the opportunity to work with you. There’s a lot she can learn.”

It was not such a bad idea to have a temporary assistant, Chen thought, in spite of his protestations. A young pretty one too. There was no point in his being too prudish about it. If the water is too clear, there will he no fish left in the pond.

“By the way, what about having dinner with me at the Dynasty this weekend?” Gu asked. “You may have heard of our sauna room. Now we have a new dish-sauna shrimp. Live river shrimp, of course.”

“Sauna shrimp! My food finger is already throbbing, but let’s wait until I’ve finished the translation.” For some minutes after Gu’s phone call, Chen tried but failed to figure out what kind of dish sauna shrimp might be.

The next caller was a surprise. It was Peiqin, Yu’s wife, a wonderful hostess with excellent cooking skills, and equally good taste in classical Chinese literature. Chen had not spoken to her since the apartment had been denied to them. He felt he had let the couple down terribly.

“Yu is working on the Yin case, as you know. He does not have much time for reading. So I am going to read Death of a Chinese Professor on his behalf. Not just the novel, but other material related to it as well, like interviews or reviews. It may take time to find these things in libraries. I’m wondering whether you know of a shortcut to getting that material.”

“I have not read Death of a Chinese Professor.” He had heard of it, but, after reading a review, he had not bothered to obtain the book. Those stories of persecuted intellectuals were nothing new. Chen’s father, a Neo-Confucian scholar, had also died a miserable death during the Cultural Revolution. “I’m afraid I cannot help.”

“Yin, too, belonged to the Chinese Writers’ Association, Shanghai Branch. Were you ever introduced to her at one of those meetings?”

“I don’t remember having met her there.” He said, after considering further, “There’s a small library at the Shanghai Writers’ Association. It’s on Julu Road. Members are supposed to bring their works and related reviews to the library. Sometimes the writers forget to do so, and the librarian has to collect them. At the least, there should be a catalog of her publications. The librarian’s name is Kuang Ming. I’ll give him a call. He should be able to help.”

There was one thing Chief Inspector Chen did not say on the phone. A secret archive would certainly have been kept there with respect to a dissident writer. Peiqin should have no problems finding what she needed.

“Thank you, Chief Inspector Chen. Come to our restaurant when you have time. Now we have a new chef, Sichuan style. He is quite good.”

“Thank you, Peiqin, for helping with our work,” he said.

Afterwards, he thought about the fact that Peiqin had invited him to the restaurant, but not to their home. He had done his best as a member of the bureau housing committee, he thought, but those who had failed to get an apartment would never believe he had done enough, perhaps including Peiqin.

The third phone call he received was from Overseas Chinese Lu, who had earned his nickname in high school from his enthusiasm for foreign things. He was an old friend who called regularly from his restaurant, Moscow Suburb. Not for the first time, Chen received a passionate invitation to have dinner at the newly expanded restaurant.