“So he modified his tactics. He started doing specific field studies, collecting pictures and data, undeniable evidence, before confronting the companies in question and demanding that they mend their ways. If they then didn’t do anything about it, he would post vivid pictures and concrete information on the Web. Those Web posts became quite influential, even more than his earlier articles in the newspapers and magazines, drawing thousands and thousands of responses. As the information spread to an ever-increasing number of people, it became a serious headache to the authorities.
“Then, out of the blue, the accusation came up that Jiang was making a mountain of money by blackmailing those companies. A local business tycoon even went so far as to produce a letter from Jiang which said: ‘If you don’t respond, you’ll have to pay for it.’ There was no question that it was a warning, but it was too vague for it to be read as blackmail.
“So for the last two years, he has been in trouble,” she concluded, “and there has been one attempt after another to bring him down. But I don’t think he would blackmail someone for his own benefit.”
Chen listened on attentively, without interrupting or commenting. Her narrative about Jiang had gone on fairly long. The afternoon light that silhouetted her against the quaint pavilion was gradually fading. In the distance, a light haze began softening the hills.
“But as you said, he had sold his business and had to make a living,” Chen said. “Nowadays, he doesn’t make any money from his speeches or articles.”
“I guess he made enough before he became an activist.”
“What kind of a man do you think he is?”
“He’s no murderer, I’ll say that.” Then, as if in afterthought, she said, “Of course, he has his flaws. For instance, he’s too fond of the limelight. And he’s self-important too. When a company offered to pay him a consulting fee, he never said no. He might have planned to use the money for his environmental work, but it wasn’t a good idea.”
“How did his activities affect you?”
“I got to know him about a year ago. Because of our common interests, we would meet up and talk from time to time. On one occasion, I talked to him about the problem at my company, citing a bunch of research data which he later put into a special report.”
“Do you know if he approached Liu with it?”
“He did. Liu was furious with me over my ‘betrayal,’ though there was nothing secret or confidential about the data. Anyone could accumulate the same information through their own research. But I, too, was upset with Jiang. He should have considered the consequences before confronting Liu with it. Jiang claimed that he never mentioned my name, but that didn’t change the fact that he got the data from me. I was so pissed off, I stopped seeing him.”
He noticed her choice of words-
“That was several months ago?” Chen asked.
“Yes. What he’s been doing since, I have no idea.”
“About two months ago, in March, I believe, he contacted Liu again. They met at the chemical company office and had a heated argument.”
“What? That’s not possible! Jiang promised me that he would target other companies instead. He said that it wouldn’t be a problem since there are so many of them around.”
“Well, maybe he did it because of the timing. With the coming IPO of the Wuxi Number One Chemical Company, Liu would have been more likely to compromise at that critical juncture. At least, that is how Internal Security has it figured.”
“But I still don’t think Jiang would have come to the office.”
“Mi says she heard him arguing with Liu in his office.”
“When was that?”
“At the beginning of March-the day before Women’s Day. She was positive about it.”
Shanshan made no response, instead staring first at him, then seemingly at something beyond him, in the distance. The air on the hill became slightly chilly for the time of year.
There was something suddenly vulnerable about her, he noticed. She sat up against the post, her arms hanging at her sides, hands slightly open, as if in supplication. She hadn’t yet said anything explicit about her relationship with Jiang. Chen decided not to push. What she would tell him, eventually, she would.
The personal factors aside, a clear picture was forming of the economic background behind the case against Jiang. For the local government, environmental protection efforts were made only to the extent that they wouldn’t jeopardize the appearance of “a harmonious society.” The local authorities depended on the ever-increasing production and profits contributed by the factories, which cut costs by dumping industrial waste into the lake. Exposing this to the Western media, as well as on the Web, made Jiang politically intolerable, and Internal Security must have been following him for quite a while. Which would explain how they came to intervene so quickly in the case.
“It’s difficult,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Isn’t it?”
It was difficult because he couldn’t rule out the possibility of Jiang’s being a criminal, even though political persecution appeared to be a far more likely scenario.
“Who else did you talk to at the company?” she said, with an alert look in her eyes, suddenly changing the subject. “You didn’t meet Officer Huang just for lunch in the canteen, did you?”
“You’re right. We went and inteviewed Mi and Fu. But I’m not the one who’s a cop here, so Huang did most of the talking. We didn’t learn anything new or useful from them. Huang and I also spoke to Mrs. Liu at her home.”
“You’ve been doing some investigating, like a cop.”
“There’s something strange about Mrs. Liu, but I’m not sure what it is,” he said, ignoring the question in her remark. “She travels back to Shanghai frequently-almost weekly-to play mahjong. How could she afford it?”
“Money is nothing to her. Liu earned a lot-he got as a bonus ten percent of the company’s annual profit. And that’s only his legitimate income, not including what he got in gray-area money.”
“She must have known about his little secretary, so how could she have left him on his own so much in Wuxi?”
“She did know about his little secretaries. But I’ve heard that they had a deal. He gave her a lot of money, and she provided the secure, stable home environment that was a necessity for his position.”
“Hold on, Shanshan. Little secretaries? Plural? Liu had someone else in addition to Mi?”
“There was at least one before Mi-that I know of.”
“What happened to her?”
“Dumped liked a worn-out mop.”
“Can you find out more about her?”
“I could try. Somebody told me she had been a karaoke girl. Mi used to work in a foot massage parlor,” she said. “As a Party cadre in charge of a large state-run company, it was very shrewd of him to maintain a quiet, stable home life by providing generously for his wife. At the same time, he had Mi serving him hand and foot like a concubine at his home office.”
“Yes, I see.”
“But tell me, Chen, what did you hear from Mi and Fu?”
“Mi described a most unhappy family life for Liu, which I think was an effort to justify her role as a little secretary. Fu said little. He’s also from Shanghai and mentioned going there-to Shanghai-this evening.”
“Fu goes back quite often. Now, as the boss, he can travel there whenever he likes.” She paused, then said suddenly, “Oh, I don’t know what will happen to the company or to China.”
It reminded Chen of something written by Fan Zhongyan, a Song-dynasty poet-statesman who described people “
Shanshan, herself besieged by troubles, was sorrowful with the sorrow of the country. She was so different from many of her contemporaries, standing out from the crowd in this acquisitive age by fighting for things beyond her own materialistic considerations. He couldn’t help but be reminded of himself from his long-forgotten years at college, when he, too, had cherished idealistic, passionate dreams.
