Enigma of China(44)

Peiqin moved over and whispered, “The service might lessen my guilt a little.”

So that was one of the reasons she wanted to have the service. Her father had gotten into political trouble in her elementary school years and had died in a far-away labor camp. During the Cultural Revolution, her mother also passed away. Peiqin hardly ever talked to others about her parents. Only once did she tell Chen that as a little kid, she had been secretly resentful of her parents because her family background had shaped and determined her life in those years.

A line of monks started to file into the room. Like the others, Chen began kowtowing again. To his surprise, the head monk pronounced his name and position solemnly at the head of the list of the service participants, as if it would mean a great deal to the dead.

It caused another whispered stir in the room. Some of Peiqin’s relatives began talking to one another, and her second aunt, a fashionable old lady with silver hair and gold-rimmed glasses, wobbled over using a bamboo stick.

She said to Chen, in earnest, “Thank you so much, Chief Inspector Chen. You have made the day for Peiqin, and for all of us as well. I’ve seen your picture in the newspapers. Perhaps we’ll also see a picture of you in the newspapers here at the temple…”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence: she knew the request was preposterous. Any pictures of him in the newspapers were in conjunction with articles about his work. They were never about him, a Party member police officer, being at a Buddhist service in a temple.

But Chen simply nodded, pulled out his cell phone, and punched in a number.

“Are you free this afternoon, Lianping?”

“Yes. Why, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“I’m at Longhua Temple. My partner, Detective Yu, and his wife, Peiqin, are going to have a meal as part of a service here. Some of their relatives were talking about the possibility of there being some pictures of the event in the newspaper…”

“All for the sake of face—in this world or the other. I understand,” she said, but then added in a louder voice, “It’s a free lunch, right? Actually, I want to thank you for thinking of me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, Party Secretary Chen.”

Both Yu and Peiqin appeared flabbergasted, catching only fragments of the phone conversation during the monks’ chanting.

In less than twenty minutes, Lianping walked in, her arrival heralded by a quick succession of flashes from the camera in her hands.

She came over to give Chen a hug, her cheek touching his. She was wearing a low-cut black dress, black heels, and a white silk scarf around her neck—along with a red-stringed Wenhui name tag.

“If Chief Inspector Chen wants me to come, how could I not?” she said with a sweet smile, shaking hands with Peiqin and Yu before she turned to the others. “I’ve been working on a profile of Chief Inspector Chen for Wenhui Daily, and these pictures will appear with the article. Chen is not just a hard-working policeman but a multifaceted person. The picture might well be captioned, ‘Chen kowtows with his partner at the temple—the genuine human side of a Party official.’”

It sounded almost plausible, but he doubted that she would really run such a picture in the Party newspaper.

With the service gradually reaching the climax, he managed to withdraw into a corner, where Lianping soon joined him. They were left alone for the moment. Others knew better than to bother them, except when some latecomers had to be introduced to the distinguished guest, Chief Inspector Chen.

“Guess how much the service costs?” she whispered.

“A thousand yuan?”

“No. Far more than that. I’ve checked out a brochure at the entrance. The hall rental alone costs more than two thousand—and that doesn’t include the fee for the service or the red envelopes for the monks.”

“Red envelopes for the monks?”

“Have you heard the proverb, An old monk chants the scripture without putting his heart into it? That’s easy for a monk to do, chanting, as they do, 365 days a year. According to folk wisdom, that would make the Buddhist service less effective. To make sure that the monks perform the service wholeheartedly, red envelopes are absolutely necessary.”

In spite of her youth, she was perceptive, as well as cynical and opinionated, about the absurdities of contemporary social reality.

“Because of your high official position, your presence adds to their collective face,” she went on, with a teasing smile. “So you are doing them a great favor. For that matter, Zhou would have been as passionately welcomed here, before his fall, of course. Ours is a society of connections—connections that are established through the exchange of favors.”