The Civil Servant's Notebook Part 13

There was no fooling the Old Leader. I laid out my ideas frankly, holding nothing back. He said nothing, but directly picked up the phone and called Liu Yihe. Who knew that something that had caused me sleepless nights could be resolved with a single phone call? If I'd known it would be this way, why would I have waited for Peng Guoliang to get in trouble? On the other hand, if he hadn't gotten in trouble, the Old Leader might not have agreed so readily. He was actually helping me out of a bind, unwilling to see me continue floundering. In fact, as I was the Old Leader's man, my floundering could reflect badly on his reputation as well.

I was hoping to use the opportunity to hear the Old Leader's opinions on Peng Guoliang's case, so I gave him a full report about Zhang Peifen's activity while it had been ongoing. To my surprise, he became angry and bitter. 'They brought all their troubles on themselves. That Peng Guoliang even dragged my name through the muck just to save himself! There must truly be something wrong with our system of promotion!'

I was a little surprised, and quite happy, to hear him say this. It was a good thing I hadn't listened to Zhang Peifen and asked the Old Leader to speak up on Peng Guoliang's behalf, otherwise I could have kissed the vice-director position goodbye. Everyone knew the head of Number One Department had had his eye on that position for a long time, but luckily I had foreseen the change in the winds. The people who are good at predicting the weather will be able to sail the farthest! I listened to the Old Leader pour out his resentment against Peng Guoliang, chiming in where appropriate, and left him quite satisfied.

Leaving the Shady Nook compound, I noticed that the moon seemed particularly large and round that night. Since Peng Guoliang had been executed, I'd felt terribly anxious, and thought I was the unluckiest person in the world. But now, looking up at the moon like a woman's b.u.t.tocks, I felt as refreshed as if I'd just taken my pleasure in that woman's bed.

When time came for the annual audit of the Munic.i.p.al Party Committee officials, I was surprised to hear Song Daoming say that the only blemish on my otherwise satisfactory performance audit had come when the audit working group had spoken to Xu Zhitai. He hadn't had a single good word for me, instead making all manner of wild accusations, two of which were quite severe and obviously aimed at interfering with my promotion. First, he said I had no sense of higher objective, that while with my inferiors I simply ate and drank with no thought for the suffering of the people. Second, my political conviction was not firm, and while in the office I'd often voice doubts about whether communism could be realised. Both accusations were obvious lies, but they were maliciously aimed. I truly would not have expected it of him.

Since I'd taken over Number Two Department, Xu was the one who'd benefited most: I'd given him practically all the opportunities to go abroad. Not only was he not returning the favour, but he was actually turning traitor at the most crucial moment. According to common logic, if I was promoted and my post was vacated, it would create opportunity for him, so he ought to sing my praises to ensure that I'd be on my way. Yet here he was doing it backwards. I tried to figure out what he was thinking, and guessed that he'd already seen the general shape of things. Even if I vacated my position, he wouldn't be promoted, and getting a new boss to lord it over him might be worse than the status quo. It would be a Pyrrhic victory for him. Couldn't he see that if he spoke well on my behalf and I was promoted, he could reach his own goal with a few well-placed words of flattery? Now here you were thinking you could stop me single-handedly, Xu Zhitai. Not only would you fail in that, but you'd also annoy someone who was about to become vice-director of the whole office. What were you thinking?

Xu Zhitai had wasted his moment of pious self-sacrifice for Peng. He had really believed that his connection with Lin Yongqing would be enough to pluck Peng from the fire and that he could work hand in hand with Zhang Peifen to overturn the case. When he had been detained himself, the Munic.i.p.al Government had gone into an uproar. If someone from Number Two was to be detained, it ought by rights to have been me, not first Huang Xiaoming and then Xu Zhitai. But I had remained as free as ever. And now I've been promoted. This has caused a lot of perplexity.

After the Party organisation came to talk to me about my new post, my promotion took effect immediately. On my first day, just after the Janitorial Brigade had finished tidying my new office and I was admiring the calligraphy the Old Leader had written for me 'If as an official you are beset by obscurity, remember that as a man you can always see clearly' the internal phone rang. It was Xiao Furen, saying that Deng Hongchang and Shang Xiaoqiong had arranged to go with Huang Xiaoming to remove Peng Guoliang's effects from his office, and that I should receive them.

I put the phone down and swore. Xiao Furen was playing games with me on my very first day. He had been cla.s.smates with Deng Hongchang at the Provincial Party School, and no matter what the occasion, it should have been him doing the receiving. But he'd made some ridiculous excuse about a meeting and shoved me out in front.

As I left the office, I could see Deng Hongchang, Shang Xiaoqiong and Huang Xiaoming standing in front of Peng Guoliang's office. I'd spoken to the investigation team several times during the case, in addition to pa.s.sing on Peng Guoliang's changes of clothes, and I was quite familiar with all of them.

I hastened to greet them, slapping Huang Xiaoming on the back. He clearly already knew about my promotion and said mockingly, 'Congratulations, Director Yang, you've finally realised your dream of pulling boats.'

There were two meanings to his words. One: needling me for having got off Peng Guoliang's s.h.i.+p and joining Liu Yihe's boat-pullers. Two: mocking me for having successfully moved against the current. While Peng's people had been swept downstream, only I was moving upstream. Clearly, he was accusing me of having sold out my master!

I couldn't bicker with him in front of Deng Hongchang and Shang Xiaoqiong, so I only said self-deprecatingly, 'Xiaoming, Mayor Liu says that he came to Dongzhou to be a boat-puller, and if someone like him can have a dream like that, it's my good fortune to have found a place on his team.'

Now it was his turn to slap me on the shoulder as he laughed. 'Director Yang, you'll go far!' Then he took an envelope out of his doc.u.ment bag and handed it to me. 'I had meant to deliver my resignation to Director Xiao, but since he's out at a meeting I'll deliver it to you, the managing director.'

The martyr act was a little too much, and I said, 'Is now the right time to resign?'

To my surprise, Deng Hongchang interrupted. 'Xiaoming, you should think twice about resigning. It would be a shame to lose such a good job!'

Shang Xiaoqiong added from the sidelines, 'That's right! If you resign, how will you get by?'

Huang Xiaoming laughed lightly and said, 'The French poet Rimbaud has a line that reads, "Life is elsewhere." As I see it, my "ideals are elsewhere". Li Bai said it even better: "I was born to be of use." Too many people want to be boat-pullers these days; I'm steering clear of the fad.'

Who knew that Huang Xiaoming would become such a bitter old man overnight! I wouldn't spar with him further. For him, life was elsewhere, but for me it was right here, under my feet, and of course that included my ideals, too.

Former Department-Level Researcher, Huang Xiaoming DURING THE PENG case, my wife saw the pressure I was under and knew that I was keeping something from her. She asked again and again until I exploded and cursed her for a madwoman. I withdrew into my study every day, scribbling furiously as a way of releasing my tension, until one day I found I'd written three hundred thousand characters. When my brother came to visit me he read some of what I'd written and praised it, saying that with a little editing it would be highly successful as a collection of essays. He even thought of an appropriate t.i.tle for me: Spiritual Torment. My brother's enthusiasm helped me forget my fear for a while, and the two of us found ourselves caught up in a discussion about literature.

I told my brother that for some reason the disaster had given me the desire to write. But I couldn't calm myself down, and I'd never written fiction. I wouldn't know where to start.

My brother's eyes lit up when he heard this, and he said excitedly, 'I'm thrilled to hear you're feeling the desire to write, Xiaoming! Our father's greatest wish was that we might become writers, and it always galled him that you'd gone into politics. If you've really decided to write fiction, I can help you.'

I was starting to get excited, and I asked for further advice. 'If I want to write fiction, where should I start?'

He thought before answering, 'Start with your own experiences. This mess with Peng Guoliang has put your soul through the tortures of purgatory. Why don't you write it down, as a warning to others? I've already thought of a name for it. Call it the The Civil Servant's Notebook.

When I heard this name, I was even more thrilled. This was an age when everyone was clamouring to squeeze into government, and every year millions of new college graduates were taking the civil service exams, the compet.i.tion even fiercer than their original college entrance exams. If I put my political experiences and lessons into the form of fiction and they read it, it might change how they thought about their new profession. But . . . I heaved an involuntary sigh.

My brother saw my high spirits suddenly droop and knew there was something I wasn't telling him. He spoke with a sternness I'd never heard from him before. 'You were Peng Guoliang's personal secretary, Xiaoming, and though you weren't with him long, the two of you were together night and day. Since you came out of detention, you've had something heavy on your mind, so tell me the truth now: have you done something you regret?'

Seeing how anxious my brother had become, I was powerless to continue keeping secrets from him so I told him everything, going to the kitchen and pulling out the tape-wrapped package of money. Once my brother knew the truth he was perfectly calm, and after examining the package carefully he remained silent for a while, before saying, 'I understand how you're feeling, Xiaoming. Technically you haven't done anything wrong, but you've forgotten that this nation's laws are not tolerant. The law would not tolerate this concealment even if you were Peng Guoliang's family member, never mind his secretary. You can't keep this package at home. You need to hand it over to the authorities immediately.' After further consideration he said, 'The package belonged to Peng Guoliang, and he gave it to you before the case broke. If you voluntarily hand it in there shouldn't be any problem. Xiaoming, did Peng Guoliang ever tell you exactly how much money was in here?'

I shook my head. 'No.'

Sizing up the package, I guessed there was fifty thousand dollars. Peng had trusted me not to take the money and run. He had been confident I would give it back after the case was concluded. His son's health was poor and they had spent large sums on treatment. Recalling this, I let my emotions get the better of me. 'Brother, I can't hand this money over unless I absolutely have no other choice. This is clearly money Peng Guoliang was keeping for his son. He trusted me. I can't think only of myself.' My decision made, I put it back in the cupboard next to the sink.

Seeing that I was resolute, my brother sighed. 'Xiaoming, I understand how you're feeling, but you've got to think more carefully about this. Now's your chance to act!'

It was obvious that Peng Guoliang had said nothing to the investigation team about the money he'd hidden with me, but I'd mentioned it to Zhang Peifen. Would she say anything about it one day? Her case was still ongoing. Or would she also be relying on me to keep it for when she got out? What should I do? Hand it over or not? I was caught up in a raging internal struggle, the result of which was: 'wait'. I would see how the case progressed against Zhang Peifen and then make a decision later. Peng Guoliang had remained stubborn to the end. My feeling was Zhang Peifen was even more stubborn than he.

To my surprise, a mere week after Peng's execution the investigation team called me and told me to report the next morning. My wife and I were eating dinner at my mother's house at the time, and as soon as I put down the phone, I picked it up again and called my brother, asking whether he thought the investigators might be calling to ask about the package.

He was nearly hopping with anxiety. 'Whether they are or not, you need to hand it over! Why should you sacrifice yourself?'

I prevaricated. 'They call Qi Xiuying the Iron Maiden, but Zhang Peifen is a Woman of Steel. She ought to be able to hold out. I can't believe she's told them everything. I'll talk to them tomorrow and feel the situation out before deciding.'

My brother practically yelled over the phone, 'You're crazy, Xiaoming! Zhang Peifen dreamed of overturning the case but got herself detained instead. Do you want to be another Xu Zhitai?'

'I know what I'm doing!' I replied stubbornly, and hung up.

My mother was trembling with anxiety after listening to our conversation. I didn't want to tell her too much, so I called a taxi and went home with my wife. Once there, I closed myself in my study and thought back over everything. I sat in my leather swivel chair, my eyes shut tight, scenes pa.s.sing before my eyes like a film reel. But no matter how carefully I thought, it seemed to me that I'd confirmed everything I possibly could. This had to be about the package.

The old fear pounded at my heart like ocean breakers. All I could think of was the word 'responsibility'. Not only my responsibility towards Peng Guoliang's widow and son, but more so my responsibility to my wife. Thinking of my life after I'd begun serving Peng Guoliang, the thing that infuriated my wife most was his irresponsible treatment of me. Even if it weren't for the package, my political life had come to an end as a result of his treatment.

The next morning, as I left my building carrying the package of money in a satchel, I felt that the sun was brand new. Someone once said that the sun is new every day, but as far as I was concerned, it was only this morning that the sun glowed with a new light. Since the sun was no longer yesterday's sun, then I should no longer be yesterday's me. So who was I?

Perhaps I would only know when I stopped thinking, but there wasn't a single instant when my thoughts were not running. I was not me while I thought. I was not me while I dreamt. The myriad details that flashed in and out of my conscious mind might be fact, but fact is the jumping-off point of fabrication and speculation. No matter what, I had jumped off.

I took a cab in the direction of the Provincial Military Headquarters. I knew that by the time I emerged from that compound once more, I would be free.

I went into the reception centre where I'd been detained and pushed open the door of the appointed room. I found Deng Hongchang himself waiting for me, together with two other members of the investigation team. Before Deng Hongchang had a chance to speak, I pulled the sealed package from my satchel.

'What's that?' asked Deng Hongchang.

Calmly, I described the situation. After he'd heard me out, Deng Hongchang asked me to open the package, and after I'd struggled through three layers of packing tape, the envelope that had so deeply impressed me finally emerged. I opened the envelope, revealing the mouldy green bills, and noticed that under the sunlight's bright rays, the whole room glowed with green light.

Deng Hongchang threw a glance at the other two investigators, chuckled coldly, and said, 'Count it.'

I feigned surprise and made a show of being nervous as I pulled out a stack of bills and brushed the mould from it, then began counting with extreme care. The stack was exactly ten thousand dollars. I counted the four other stacks, one by one, then put all five stacks back the way they'd been, and said with some trepidation, 'Exactly fifty thousand dollars.'

Deng Hongchang sprang up off the sofa and began pacing in a circle. Then he halted and gave me a piercing glance, saying, 'Huang Xiaoming, Huang Xiaoming . . . That's definitely a brain with a master's degree. You certainly pick your moment! Do you know how close this fifty thousand was to ruining you? Zhang Peifen kept perfectly clear notes about this money in her notebook. Don't think she didn't know how much was in there. This money had been a part of their plan since before the case broke. Lucky for you that you came around in time. If you hadn't, I think you can guess what would have happened to you! Well then, young man: give us a complete written description of the whole thing, and learn what lessons you can from Peng Guoliang's case. I hope those lessons will serve you well as you make your way in the future.'

He turned to his two colleagues and said, 'You two can handle things from here.' Then he slapped my shoulder and left the room.

One of the investigators brought me a pen and paper, and I began to write. I wrote not only the facts as they'd occurred, but also why I had taken so long in coming clean. Mostly I talked about the promise I'd made, and my desire to keep faith, and how I hadn't realised how severe the situation was to begin with.

When I'd finished writing I read it over twice and, feeling pleased with both its structure and its tone, I pa.s.sed it to the investigators. They both read it, then one of them gave me an ink pad and told me to leave my fingerprint on the signature line as well as on a few of the edits before telling me, 'That's it, you can go.' I bowed and sc.r.a.ped and shook their hands, then left the room, a great weight lifted from me.

It was nearly noon by the time I left the military compound, and I hurried to call my brother. Elated, he told me to take a taxi to a Xiaojiangnan restaurant near his office, saying we would celebrate the beginning of my new life. I hung up the phone and looked at the sky. The sun was too bright to look at directly.

As I entered the restaurant's main dining room, my brother waved to me from a seat near the window. I saw the food and drink already laid out, and my brother poured me a beer as he said, 'What have you got planned, Xiaoming?'

I drained my gla.s.s at a gulp and told him something that surprised him. 'I'm going to write novels.'

To be honest, I'd decided this when my brother told me to write The Civil Servant's Notebook, but the business with the fifty thousand dollars had me so on edge that I never got around to discussing it more with him. Now the fifty thousand had been put to rest and I was feeling unutterably lightened, so I'd decided to broach the subject.

What had I done for society in my ten years in politics? Not a thing. I could no longer be a parasite, and if I'd gained anything from Peng Guoliang's case, it was discovery of my self, discovery that I, as a thinker, was none other than me.

And for that reason I said firmly, 'Don't try to talk me out of it, brother. People must pa.s.s through death to be reborn. I've already wasted a decade of my life in politics. How many more decades remain to me?'

My brother remained silent for a while, then solemnly filled two gla.s.ses and, picking up his own, said, 'I feel ashamed, Xiaoming, to hear you say that people must pa.s.s through death to be reborn. Perhaps it's because I've always lacked the courage to pa.s.s through death that I've never become a truly great writer. Actually, in the face of the soul, literature itself must pa.s.s through death! Come, brother, let's drink to having the courage to burn our bridges!'

After draining my cup, I glanced out the window and saw that the endless river of cars flowed not along the street, but along time itself.

Ou Beibei.

AFTER PENG GUOLIANG'S detention, trial and execution, w.a.n.g Chaoquan became a legend within the Munic.i.p.al Government.

There was also no doubt that the case influenced the fates of everyone in Number Two Department. Our office became the focal point of the whole Munic.i.p.al Government.

We kept our thoughts to ourselves, hoping to avoid becoming a p.a.w.n sacrificed to the greater struggle. Each of us had once been proud to work in Number Two. Now all we hoped for was escape.

Yang Hengda and Zhu Dawei hoped for it most. The pressure was greatest on Yang Hengda, of course. Although he'd been the Old Leader's secretary, he'd been placed in Number Two by Peng Guoliang, and everyone thought of him as Peng's man. Now Peng had been tried and executed, Huang Xiaoming had resigned, and yet Yang Hengda was still sailing along peacefully.

The rumours flew thick and fast. Everyone felt it was unreasonable, as if Yang Hengda should naturally have gone down with his boss. Yang was perfectly aware of his predicament, but he also knew how to get out of it, and even more how to turn it to his favour a skill a little woman like me would never be able to learn.

Yang Hengda seemed to have gone over to the other side without kicking up the slightest fuss. During the investigation he had made use of his unusual status, on the one hand pretending to care for Zhang Peifen, on the other feigning eager co-operation with the investigation team. At first no one saw his true face, right up until he got promoted.

When I heard that news, I understood. No one who made a living in politics could be truly just. They would turn traitor the moment it served their purposes. I had to privately admire Yang's move, though, and I learned from it that those in politics had to learn the art of abandonment if they ever wanted to find a firm footing. The key to this strategy, however, is that you must be qualified to be taken in elsewhere, you needed to bring with you something of value, and those who didn't understand this would always be caught in a bind. Yang Hengda was without doubt extremely skilled at increasing and utilising his value. In this sense he was as much a gambler as Peng Guoliang, though smarter in his wagers.

By comparison, Xu Zhitai held far more of value than Yang Hengda, and yet he was still cast about like an ant riding a twig through flood waters thinking he directed the twig's progress when, in fact, the twig was in the grip of the tide. The reason he'd remained department vice-head for ten years without the slightest progress was that he never learned to sail with the wind, let alone to sail before the wind. Even more pitiful, his political aspirations never rose any higher than the seat in front of him, and he never turned his gaze outside the department, let alone outside the Munic.i.p.al Government.

Huang Xiaoming had once brought a pop psychology test to work. He drew four points on a paper and we had to use three continuous, non-overlapping lines to connect the four points. Only Xu Zhitai and I couldn't do it, and when Huang Xiaoming showed us the solution I realised that I could learn something important from the psychology test. If you think outside the box, the world can become very wide.

Xu Zhitai, on the other hand, felt the test was just a clever trick. He actually wished he was adept at clever tricks. After Peng Guoliang was detained, he expended every effort in helping Zhang Peifen interfere with the case, feeling this was the most important trick of his political career. That's exactly why he was using righteousness and loyalty as a cover for his own weakness. He was mocked by other cadres as a Don Quixote, but I thought that was an overestimation of him.

In my view he was more like Sancho Panza, the crafty fool, who acts from experience only, and knows nothing of ideals. All he wants is wealth and position, and that is precisely why he could be roused by the dreamer with his head in the clouds to follow him on his adventures. But Xu Zhitai truly did have something of Don Quixote's courage in tilting at windmills. Xu's courage came from his stubborn dream of becoming department head and, even more, from the rewards that Zhang Peifen dangled in front of him.

Even more subtly calculating than Yang Hengda and Xu Zhitai was Zhu Dawei. His hidden advantage was the advice he got from his father, who was experienced in politics and business. This, added to natural apt.i.tude, meant the son would likely surpa.s.s the father. Then there was the inside information provided him by his beautiful, dedicated, hardworking girlfriend in the investigation team. Whoever got their information in advance had the drop on everyone else. In this whole case it was obvious Zhu Dawei had the newest, most direct, most accurate information; enough for his wily, plotting old father to lay out his strategy for him.

The fact that his girlfriend Shang Xiaoqiong had worked undercover in the Munic.i.p.al Government for so long and Zhu Dawei had never made a peep also helped Mayor Liu see him with new eyes. Add to that the appreciation of Xiao Furen and Song Daoming, and it seemed likely that Zhu Dawei's dream of becoming secretary to the Mayor might come true. Even Yang Hengda slapped him on the back and called him brother when they met, and that was another signal that before long, Zhu Dawei would be climbing the ladder.

You could say that for Yang Hengda, Xu Zhitai and Zhu Dawei, Peng Guoliang's case represented a chance to show their mettle, and only I was left behind, forgotten as a leaf in autumn.

The dream of w.a.n.g Chaoquan was now ruined and I had no desire to return to it. So I rejected both return and ruin, and insisted there was a third way. What I hadn't antic.i.p.ated was that Xu Zhitai would re-awaken my desire to return to my dream state. Towards the end of the case Chaoquan had invited Xu Zhitai for a drink. While I don't know what they discussed, the next time I saw Xu he handed me Chaoquan's new contact information. I got the feeling that Chaoquan had given it to him expressly to give to me. This turned my heart completely upside down. I even thought that he was trying to send me a sign. Though I knew this was pure fantasy, I was somehow very willing to surrender myself to it.

I should say that there was nothing arbitrary about the love between Chaoquan and me. We were together for all four years of college, and while I couldn't figure out when during that time he had been chosen by the Public Security Bureau, he most definitely did undergo secret training. In those days, love was my religion and I dreamed that I in turn would become Chaoquan's religion. No matter how sacred his work for the country, there was one fact he had to face: he had been lying to me, from the time we first fell in love until we divorced. He was loyal to the nation but he had lied to his wife. It was he who had laid the groundwork for my infidelity. Though I appeared to be Peng Guoliang's victim, I was in fact Chaoquan's. I wasn't done with him yet; the 'great hero' owed me an explanation and an apology.

Since Xu Zhitai gave me the contact information, I have been plagued by ideas like these. I've even dreamed, more than once, of Chaoquan embracing me and rolling about on the bed. Since we got the divorce, he had turned to ashes in my heart. Could those ashes spring into flame again?

My days pa.s.s not like a sliding stream, but in an ever-repeating cycle, like the hands of the quartz clock that hangs on the wall of Number Two Department. My life is slipping from me within this pointless cycle. It seems that this is my 'truth'.

The Munic.i.p.al Party Committee sent an audit team to the office to audit Yang Hengda. For some reason, Yang Hengda's impending promotion made Xu Zhitai deeply unhappy. By rights Yang Hengda's promotion would create a vacuum Xu Zhitai could fill, but he seemed to have already realised that even if the position became vacant, the new standing vice-mayor would not choose him. He would already have someone else in mind.

If nothing had happened to Peng Guoliang, I was sure that Yang Hengda's promotion would have given Xu Zhitai a chance, and perhaps that was precisely the source of Xu Zhitai's unhappiness. He felt that Yang Hengda owed a debt of grat.i.tude to Peng Guoliang, and when the leader had been in danger, that debt ought to have been repaid.

Now Yang Hengda was saying one thing but doing another, creating an out for himself, and treating his dead leader's disgrace as a chance to advance himself a truly despicable action.

Thus, Xu Zhitai had nothing good to say about Yang Hengda to the audit team, and, what's more, even tried to get the rest of us to work with him to push out Yang Hengda, the way we'd pushed out Zhao Zhong. I hemmed and hawed and prevaricated. Zhu Dawei, contrary to his usual tactfulness, stated very clearly that he would not partic.i.p.ate, and even put forth a long list of Yang Hengda's qualities. Xu Zhitai's mouth was hanging open. He went out in a huff, slamming the door. I cast a glance at the self-satisfied Zhu Dawei, thinking that he must have known long ago that Yang Hengda was bound to be promoted. But now he was speaking with an uncharacteristic self-a.s.surance. He must have been close to taking over from Song Daoming.

I cast a glance at the clock on the wall and had the sudden feeling that everyone else was just pa.s.sing through Number Two, while only I and the clock really belonged to this office.

I asked Zhu Dawei what he thought of Xu Zhitai's unusual behaviour, and he said with a disdainful shrug, 'People who won't accept failure and keep trying will never become leaders, Beibei. What kind of future can await people who throw themselves away? Like they always say, a wise man submits to circ.u.mstances. What are our present circ.u.mstances? Department Head Yang's promotion to Vice-Director of the Munic.i.p.al Government, for one. He's been tapped by Mayor Liu personally, so this is immutable fact. Xu can't even see that much. No wonder he's spent ten years as department vice-head.

'What's worse is that Peng was obviously done for, and Xu was still running around insisting he'd been unjustly accused, colluding with his wife, teaming up with Lin Yongqing to interfere with the case. What was he after? Did he never stop to think whether his own two hands were enough to stop the wheel of history? I've said enough, Beibei. Xu was possessed. He was determined to follow the others into detention.'

I thought to myself, what had Xu Zhitai done besides run a few errands for Zhang Peifen? Zhu Dawei told me, 'For his help in convincing Lin Yongqing to write those articles, Xu Zhitai accepted fifty thousand yuan from Zhang Peifen, and even went to Beijing to deliver bribes in person. I told you once that he was determined to get himself locked up. He's got no one to blame but himself.'

Just after Yang Hengda was promoted, Huang Xiaoming handed in his resignation. This news was shocking. No one in the Munic.i.p.al Government could understand why he'd done it. He could easily have pushed through, and Xiao Furen would have found him a post as head of one of the combined affairs departments. Xiao Furen had always thought highly of him, and if Peng Guoliang hadn't s.n.a.t.c.hed him first, Xiao Furen would have been sure to recommend him to Mayor Liu as a replacement for Song Daoming.

Even if the Peng case had made that impossible, he could have found another job. But he chose to quit while he was ahead. No one who'd been in that position could understand his decision. Besides, this was an age of power wors.h.i.+p. Everyone knows that power determines the direction of society. I was sure that Huang Xiaoming was experiencing all manner of suffering, but in an age of power wors.h.i.+p I was even surer that he could find no one to whom he could pour out that suffering.

Never mind Huang Xiaoming. Whom could I pour my heart out to?

I always longed to fly, and to fly in the company of the one I loved, but now I only had one wing left.

I rebelled against my misfortune because my husband appeared to me in a false image. The brilliant, capable husband I loved was hidden from me, and I'd lived for years with a false w.a.n.g Chaoquan. I couldn't be held fully responsible for the end of our marriage. I wanted to find the real w.a.n.g Chaoquan and ask him what love really was. I became more excited the more I thought, and couldn't resist dialling the mobile phone number Xu Zhitai had given me. And just like that, easier than I could have imagined, I heard w.a.n.g Chaoquan's rich voice say, 'h.e.l.lo?'

Secretary to the Mayor, Zhu Dawei.

I ALWAYS THOUGHT that becoming a mayor's secretary would be a fast track for my career. For a mere director-level researcher like myself, to climb rung by rung up to bureau-level would take fifteen years or more. Most people were like Xu Zhitai. Even after fifteen years, they still got stuck around the vice bureau or bureau-level. Being a mayoral secretary was different. Given my current level, becoming secretary would automatically raise me to vice department-level, then full department-level within a couple of years. Once there, it was only one step away from vice bureau-level, and in two more years I'd be given a concurrent post as Vice-Director of the Munic.i.p.al Government. That way, within five years I'd be a.s.sured of following Song Daoming's path in going down to the district-level as head of a local party committee, becoming the youngest full bureau-level leader in Dongzhou. Actually, that had been my dream since I'd entered the Munic.i.p.al Government. I was amazed to think that I might achieve it so soon.

Over the years, Cat has described to me the scenes of many detentions, but that night when she called me and said they'd detained Peng Guoliang, Wen Huajian, Chen s.h.i.+, Hu Zhanfa and Huang Xiaoming, it still made my skin crawl. Someone once said that politics was a game. I acted accordingly. But when Cat told me how the investigation team had informed Peng Guoliang of his detention in Mayor Liu's private meeting room Peng Guoliang looking like a morsel of food someone had picked from between their teeth how could I still think of it as a game?

When Peng Guoliang was promoted to vice-mayor, his whole family must have rejoiced at the honour. He couldn't have imagined then that he would end up as a criminal. Any politician would hope to advance as smoothly as climbing a staircase. Shouldn't Peng's downfall serve as a warning?

I've seen and heard people rejoicing in Peng's misfortune, as if this sort of thing could never happen to them. I don't understand it. They say that the fox weeps when the rabbit's dead. Now the rabbit's dead and everyone's thinking of meat. Why did no one stop to think of why the rabbit died? I've been thinking about it, and I've concluded that without someone supervising the supervisors, there would be no true sunlight. This was the reason why corruption had spread everywhere.