Don’t Cry, Tai Lake Read Online Free PDF Page B

example?”
    “For example, to Uncle Wang, I’m probably nothing but a gourmet customer, ready to indulge in a large platter of fried white fish. It is a convention in Chinese literature to depict a man of letters traveling to enjoy the local delicacies, as in the writings of Yuan Mu, Lu Xun, Yu Pingbo—”
    “But you are a man of letters, aren’t you?” she said. “So in your interpretation, we live only in others’ interpretations.”
    “Well done. You put it succinctly.”
    Normally, she would have been intrigued by his conversation, but she was disturbed by what had happened at the company. Still, she couldn’t help taking another look at him—possibly in his mid-thirties, tall, austerely good-looking, dressed in a beige jacket, white shirt, and khaki pants. Nothing conspicuous, yet with an air of prosperous distinction that fit well with his clothes. Slightly bookish, well read, poetry-quoting in his conversation, and well connected too, considering his stay at the center. But he wasn’t one of those upstarts, who wouldn’t have revisted Uncle Wang’s place.
    “By the way, have you received any more phone calls like the one yesterday?” he said abruptly, with genuine concern on his face.
    “No, not today,” she said. It was strange. She’d been getting the sinister messages for the past two weeks. Every day, around the same time. But not today. Could it have something to do with the death of Liu Deming, the general manager of the chemical company?
    The police had questioned her earlier in the morning, focusing on her recent arguments with Liu. Her work as an environmental engineer, she admitted, hadn’t been agreeable to Liu. It was also true that Liu had been making things hard for her. But she’d never even thought of murdering him.
    A dog’s barking in the distance, fierce, persistent, broke her reverie.
    No one had accused her of anything yet, but how it would play out, no one knew. She was under a lot of pressure. Not only from the cops, but from her coworkers as well. People were talking and pointing stealthily behind her back, as though she were the prime suspect.
    So it wasn’t such a bad idea to let Chen accompany her to the ferry. It distracted her, albeit temporarily, and kept her from dwelling too much on those disturbing thoughts. He turned out to be not unpleasant to walk with.
    “Oh, something happened at your company today?” Chen asked, as if reading her thoughts.
    She didn’t want to talk about it, but she responded nonetheless.
    “Liu Deming, the general manager of our company, was murdered last night.”
    “Oh, that’s horrible.” He added, “Has the murderer been caught?”
    “No, there are no suspects or clues so far. He was murdered at home—or, to be exact, at his home office not far from the company office.”
    “Did he have enemies or people who really hated him?”
    “You’re talking like a cop, Mr. Chen.”
    “Sorry, I was just being curious,” he said. “You’re right. It’s not a pleasant topic.”
    After another turn in the road, they came within view of the lake. Chen pointed at a flat-bottomed sampan and, like a tourist, declared, “Look.”
    The sampan dangled on a frayed rope tied to a stunted tree at the edge of the water, which looked impenetrable. As they moved closer, however, there seemed to be a swirl of movement down there with a silver glimmer under the surface. He picked up a pebble and flicked it into the water.
    “It’s so peaceful here,” he said. “The air contains a sort of quietness unimaginable in Shanghai.”
    “The ferry is further to the south. We’re taking a different route from the usual tourist path.”
    “That’s great,” he said, then changed the subject again. “You said something about the water quality earlier.”
    “So you’ll be able to see for yourself. We are walking there now.”
    Several minutes later, she slowed down.
    “See the green stuff over the water, Mr. Chen?”
    “Yes, green algae, but