Don't cry Tai lake

attentive audience like Chen before. Nor one where she didn’t have to worry about the consequences of talking openly. He wasn’t local, and would probably be gone in a week.

“Your work is truly important, Shanshan,” he said in earnest.

“I’m a nobody in the company. No one cares about what I say. If anything, it only marks me as a troublemaker.”

“Because of your work?”

“It was naive of me to take the job so seriously. I was hired for the sake of appearances, which I found out after I started work. All my research was put into a newsletter available only to the company executives. I doubt whether they ever read it, or whether they did anything about it if they did read it. Time and again, I felt obliged to speak out against Liu’s business decisions, like shutting down the waste treatment facility or fabricating the reports being sent to the agencies. But what difference did it make?” She smiled a bitter smile. “It’s strange that I’m telling you all this.”

“There is one line in a Confucian classic, Shanshan. Some people may never really know each other even if they’re together until white-haired, but some people may be true friends the moment they meet each other, taking down their hats.”

“Yes, I remember that line too.”

“Now,” he said, “do you think the phone message you got was because of your work?”

“That’s possible, but I doubt Liu would have gone to the trouble. He could have easily fired me.”

A siren sounded not too far away, and Chen looked up. The street they had just turned onto was lined with food stalls and souvenir kiosks. They were close to the ferry.

“Wait a minute,” he said and walked over to a stall.

She saw him talking to a man behind the counter at a snack stall under a white-and-red striped umbrella. Chen pointed at something, then came back carrying a large brown paper bag.

“Slices of roast beef and steamed buns. You can’t drink only water, Shanshan.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chen, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I promised Uncle Wang. You can break the bun into two and put the beef in between, which is a very popular way to eat them in the northwest. The sauce is also in the bag.”

“You’re an impossible connoisseur. I’m sorry about spoiling your appetite back at Uncle Wang’s place.”

“It was for my own good, and I really appreciate it. Here is my cell number,” he said, copying his number on a scrap of paper torn from the top of the bag. “I would love to continue our conversation, because, as in the old saying: to listen to your talk for one day is more beneficial than to read books for ten years. I hope I can have another chance during my stay here.”

“Well, in that old saying, it is ‘for one night’ rather than ‘for one day,’” she said teasingly, amused by his pedantic way of saying things. “Bye.”

She found herself walking, light-footedly, in an improved mood as she turned to the plank that led to the ferry boat, flashing over her shoulder a smile at him who was still standing there watching her.

FOUR

The ferry boat disappeared into the mist-enveloped distance.

Chen turned away and started strolling back to the center, whistling, when his cell phone vibrated. It was a text message from her: “Now you have my number too, Shanshan.”

That’s good, he thought with a smile. Her text showed an enthusiasm for new technology that was perhaps characteristic of one of her age. It had taken him a couple of days to learn how to write and send a Chinese text message properly. He’d persisted because he had no choice. It was necessary for his work. But he didn’t enjoy doing it. However, a lot of young people seemed to be text-messaging all the time.

He couldn’t help looking back in the direction of the ferry again, and when he did so, he was struck with a feeling of being watched. Someone else was looking in his direction, raising a cell phone as if to take a picture, but then turning away abruptly when he became aware of Chen’s attention. It might be a coincidence, but there was something about the man. He was middle-aged, medium-built, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt. Chen might have seen him before, though at the moment he couldn’t recall where.

But maybe his suspicious nature was getting the better of him. In Wuxi, he was an anonymous tourist on vacation, not a cop investigating a crime. There was no reason to believe someone would be shadowing him here. Chen resumed walking, and after passing several booths, he looked back over his shoulder. The man was no longer in sight.

What he had just learned from Shanshan, he contemplated, might go into his report for Comrade Secretary Zhao. He would have to do some homework first, but he was in no hurry and felt sure it was relevant.

Soon he got lost again. The map he pulled out didn’t really help. After wandering for two or three blocks without any real sense of direction, he saw a group of tourists heading to a willow-lined road, their guide holding a tourist group banner. They were talking, gesticulating, pointing at a roadside sign that indicated the way to the park, through which, he guessed, he could cut back to the center.

He followed them to the front gate of the park, where a large billboard declared that an entrance ticket cost thirty yuan. He showed his center pass and got in for free. Another advantage available only to high-ranking cadres.

The park was alive with tourists, most of them from nearby cities. He was pretty sure some were from Shanghai for he heard a young couple speaking in the unmistakable Shanghai accent. The woman was four or five months pregnant and beaming contentedly, clutching in her hand a pair of tiny earthen babies in colorful costumes-wares that were a specialty of Wuxi.

Near the lake, he noticed a crowd waiting to board several large cruise ships. One of the ships looked so modern and luxurious, shining silver in the sunlight, it was as if it were sailing out of a Hollywood movie.

To the west, not far from the dock, several tourists were waiting their turn to take their pictures in front of an enormous rock, the flat surface of which bore four bold Chinese characters in red paint: Pregnant with Wu Yue. Wu Yue referred to the lake area. It was originally a phrase praising the lake’s expanse, but it had long since become a popular background for tourist photos because of a folk belief that the rock was auspicious for young couples eager to start a family.

Passing by a bronze statue of a turtle, the theme of the park, he caught sight of a teahouse built in the traditional architecture style-white walls, vermilion pillars, lattice windows, and a large Chinese character for tea embroidered on an oblong yellow silk pennant that was streaming in the breeze. Crowds of people were sitting at outside tables, drinking tea, playing poker and chess, and relaxing in sight of the surface of the lake, which was dotted with so many white sails that they looked like clouds.

It was a fantastic scene. However, for the locals, who had seen it hundreds of times, it might seem merely a place for tea-drinking.

Chen chose a bamboo table with a tree-framed view of the lake shimmering in the sunlight. The water didn’t look as dark-colored as it did near the ferry, in Shanshan’s company.

A waitress came over and set down a bamboo-covered thermos bottle and a cup containing a pinch of tea leaves.

“Before-Rain tea, it’s the newest pick of the year and the best tea leaves in the house,” she said, pouring a cup for him.

The tea looked tenderly green. He didn’t pick up the cup immediately. Instead he slowly tapped a finger on the table, thinking about what Shanshan had said about the water. He picked up a newspaper from a rack near the table, but when he saw a picture on the front page of local leaders speaking at an economic conference, he put it back down.

Shanshan’s words had more than impressed him. For many years, environmental protection had been practically irrelevant to the Chinese people. Under Mao’s rule, they were famished, literally starving to death, particularly during the so-called Three Years of Natural Disaster in the late fifties and early sixties, and then again during the Cultural Revolution. People’s top priority had been survival, and that meant feeding themselves with whatever was available. Then under Deng’s rule, China began to catch up to the rest of the world for the first time