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Death of a Red Heroine

Death of a Red Heroine

Titel: Death of a Red Heroine
Autoren: Qiu Xiaolong
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remained on the waiting list, Chief Inspector Chen’s recent acquisition was another instance of the unfair new cadre policy, he knew. But he decided not to think about those unpleasant complaints at the moment. He had to concentrate on the evening’s menu.
    He had only limited experience in preparing for a party. With a cookbook in his hand, he focused on those recipes designated easy-to-make. Even those took considerable time, but one colorful dish after another appeared on the table, adding a pleasant mixture of aromas to the room.
    By ten to six he had finished setting the table. He rubbed his hands, quite pleased with the results of his efforts. For the main dishes, there were chunks of pork stomach on a bed of green napa , thin slices of smoked carp spread on fragile leaves of jicai , and steamed peeled shrimp with tomato sauce. There was also a platter of eels with scallions and ginger, which he had ordered from a restaurant. He had opened a can of Meiling steamed pork, and added some green vegetables to it to make another dish. On the side, he placed a small dish of sliced tomatoes, and another of cucumbers. When the guests arrived, a soup would be made from the juice of the canned pork and canned pickle.
    He was selecting a pot in which to warm the Shaoxing wine when the doorbell rang.
    Wang Feng, a young reporter from the Wenhui Daily , one of China’s most influential newspapers, was the first to arrive. Attractive, young, and intelligent, she seemed to have all the makings of a successful reporter. But at the moment she did not have her black leather briefcase in her hand. Instead, she held a huge pine nut cake in her arms.
    “Congratulations, Chief Inspector Chen,” she said. “What a spacious apartment!”
    “Thanks,” he said, taking the cake from her.
    He led her around for a five-minute tour. She seemed to like the apartment very much, looking into everything, opening the cupboard doors, and stepping into the bathroom, where she stood on her tiptoes, touching the overhead shower pipe and the new shower head.
    “And a bathroom, too!”
    “Well, like most Shanghai residents, I’ve always dreamed of having an apartment in this area,” he said, giving her a glass of sparkling wine.
    “And you have a wonderful view from the window, “ she said, “almost like a picture.”
    Wang stood leaning against the newly painted window frame, her ankles crossed, holding the glass in her hand.
    “ You are turning it into a painting,” he said.
    In the afternoon light streaming through the plastic blinds, her complexion was matte porcelain. Her eyes were clear, almond-shaped, just long enough to be suggestive of a distinct character. Her black hair cascaded halfway down her back. She wore a white T-shirt and a pleated skirt, with a wide belt of alligator leather that cinched her “emancipated wasp” waist and accentuated her breasts.
    Emancipated wasp. An image invented by Li Yu, the last emperor of the Southern Tang dynasty, also a brilliant poet, who depicted his favorite imperial concubine’s ravishing beauty in several celebrated poems. The poet-emperor was afraid that he might break her in two by holding her too tightly. It was said that the custom of foot-binding also started in Li Yu’s reign. There was no accounting for taste, Chen reflected.
    “What do you mean?” she asked.
    “ ‘Waist so slender, weightless she dances on my palm ,’” he said, changing the reference as he recalled the tragic end of the imperial concubine, who drowned herself in a well when the Southern Tang dynasty fell. “Du Mu’s famous line fails to do justice to you.”
    “More of your bogus compliments copied from the Tang dynasty, my poetic chief inspector?”
    This sounded more like the spirited woman he had first met in the Wenhui building, Chen was happy to note. It had taken quite a long while for her to get over the defection of her husband. A student in Japan, the man had decided not to return home when his visa expired. Wang had taken it hard, naturally.
    “Poetically alone,” he said.
    “With this new apartment, you no longer have an excuse to remain celibate.” She drained the glass with a toss of her long hair.
    “Well, introduce some girls to me.”
    “You need my help?”
    “Why not, if you are willing to help?” He tried to change the subject. “But how are things with you? About your own apartment, I mean. Soon you will get one for yourself, I bet.”
    “If only I were a chief
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