Chen wondered whether Peiqin really held such beliefs, but that didn’t matter as long as her relatives did. Since Detective Yu never asked him for any favors, the chief inspector wasn’t in a position to say no.
Besides, it might be a nice change from the latest round of ever-depressing routine meetings. He’d had to spend most of Friday at a meeting of the Shanghai Party Committee. As a new member, he wasn’t required to say much, but all the political speeches by the leading members of the committee were not only boring but also inexplicably exhausting.
Qiangyu, First Secretary of the Committee, had made a long speech, emphasizing the great achievements in the city under the correct leadership of the Shanghai Party Committee. There might be something significant in the speech, Chen had vaguely sensed, so he had tried to read between the lines, but he soon gave up, surrendering instead to a dull yet dogged headache.
By Friday evening, Chen was glad of the chance to do something different, and something for Peiqin’s sake.
“Of course I’ll be there. I’ll stay for as long as the ceremony takes; you can count on me, Yu.”
* * *
Saturday morning, Chen was sitting in the back of a Mercedes driven by the bureau chauffeur, Skinny Wang.
“The Yus will have a lot of face at the temple today,” Skinny Wang said, “in front of their relatives.”
In the final analysis, Chen reflected, people had to believe in something—anything—in this age of spiritual vacuum. With no concepts such as the heaven or hell of Western religions, Chinese people took vague comfort in doing something like the temple service to help the dead in the next life.
The newly materialistic society was shaping many aspects of life according to its own terms—even things like this temple service. The more expense, the more face. That was a type of competition the Yus couldn’t afford, which was why Yu, a non-Buddhist, had to bring Chief Inspector Chen—supposedly a high-ranking Party official—into the scene. It was all for the sake of face. Face was an important issue to the Shanghainese.
“Here we are, Longhua Temple,” Skinny Wang declared.
Because of the ever-expanding boundaries of the city, the temple, originally located near the outskirts, was no longer considered too far away. And because of that location, it was larger than other temples nearer to the city center.
The driver parked and followed Chen as he stepped into an enormous courtyard leading to an impressive front hall lined with the gilded Buddhist statues, all of which were wreathed in spiraling incense. The wings on both sides of the main hall were rented out as service rooms and fetched large fees for the temple.
“Chen Cao, Party Secretary of the Shanghai Police Bureau, and member of Shanghai Communist Party Committee,” said Peiqin. Not exactly surprised, she introduced him loudly to people as soon as he entered. “The legendary Chief Inspector Chen, head of the Special Case Squad, you must have heard or read about him—he is Yu’s boss.”
Peiqin’s introduction included all the new official titles Chen had acquired. Chen understood.
“It’s from our Party Secretary,” Skinny Wang chimed in, putting down in front of the service table a large flower wreath with a white silk banner bearing Chen’s name and official positions.
On the table were black-framed pictures flanked by burning candles, surrounded by a variety of Shanghai snacks and fruit.
“Both Yu and Peiqin are my friends,” Chen said to the others in the room, after bowing to the photos.
Yu and Peiqin bowed back to him as a token of their gratitude.
Chen then held a bunch of tall incense in his hand, bowing respectfully three more times.
As Chen did so, all the others in the room seemed to be staring, holding their breath.
There were several chestlike cardboard boxes stacked up against the table, Chen observed as he put the incense into a container. The boxes probably contained netherworld money for the dead. Years ago, money for the dead was simply placed in large red bags. The imitation boxes with padlocks vividly painted on them represented an “improvement with time,” showing sophisticated consideration for the convenience of the dead in the other world. Chen couldn’t help wondering whether his gift of the wreath, standing alone, was out of place. Then he noticed that the wreath bore several ribbons and bows folded to look just like silk ingots.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Party Secretary Chen,” Yu said.
“There’s no need for that, Yu. It’s an opportunity for me to pay tribute to my uncle and auntie.”
Like the use of “Party Secretary Chen” by Yu, “uncle and auntie” by Chen was for the benefit of others. Chen was becoming increasingly self-conscious, so he walked over to a monk arranging large envelopes on a side table. He tried to engage the monk in a conversation about Buddhism, but the latter simply stared at him blankly, without responding, as if Chen was an alien.