Shanghai Redemption by Qiu Xiaolong Page A

he worked on it, however, the more unsure he was about tonight’s event. At a bookstore, he’d have no problem holding the interest of the audience. Not so at the Heavenly World. What would the Big Bucks who showed up there want to know, particularly about a modernist poet like T. S. Eliot?
    Also, he didn’t know how to dress for the occasion. Looking at his disheveled reflection in the mirror, he thought he’d better at least get his hair cut.
    He picked up the phone and dialed.
    â€œOh, thank you so much, Chief Inspector Chen,” White Cloud said, recognizing his number. “I’ve just received your flowers.”
    â€œThank you for the invitation to your opening, White Cloud. My hearty congratulations, and my apologies too. Sorry to miss it—I wasn’t in Shanghai.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. You’re always busy, traveling here and there. But it’s been such a long time. You may have forgotten what I look like.”
    â€œHow can that possibly be?”
    â€œThen come see me at my salon.”
    There seemed to be a subtle complaining note to her words. Did she think he’d been avoiding her? Perhaps, he admitted to himself, he had been, for a number of reasons. It wouldn’t do a high-ranking police officer any good even to be seen in the company of White Cloud, given her background as a karaoke girl, let alone get entangled in a close relationship.
    But now that he was no longer a cop, was he still going to worry about what people might think?
    He put the question aside: right now, he had a more immediate agenda. White Cloud, in addition to helping with his hair, might also be able to tell him something more about the nightclub, since she moved in those circles.
    â€œDrop by any time you like,” she repeated. “I’ll be here every day—and at your service.”
    â€œI will. You’ve come a long way, White Cloud. The first time we met was at a salon, as I recall, and now you have your own salon.”
    â€œYou still remember, Chief Inspector Chen.”
    â€œI’m no longer a chief inspector, as you might have heard.”
    â€œMr. Gu has mentioned that, but so what? You’re still a Party cadre. If anything, you might have more time for yourself, and you’ll be able to do what you really want.”
    â€œI hope so. In fact, there’s something I have to do this evening. A new volume including my translations of T. S. Eliot is coming out, and the publisher wants me to attend a book launch party at the Heavenly World.”
    â€œA party for T. S. Eliot at the Heavenly World? That’s mind-boggling.”
    â€œIt really is, isn’t it? So let me ask you a question. What can you tell me about the nightclub?”
    â€œWell, a lot of Big Bucks go there. There are a lot of high-ranking Party officials there too, but they usually keep a low profile. The officials, that is, not the Big Bucks. There are a lot of stories about the place, so many that it’s hard to know which, if any, are true.
    â€œThe owner is a middle-aged man named Shen, and he allegedly is connected to people both at the top of the Party and to people in the black way. He’s untouchable, and his customers don’t have to worry about police raids or anything like that. That’s why the elite are willing to pay so much for an evening at the Heavenly World. I’m told that there’s even a secret passage connecting the garage and the club’s most ‘private suite.’ So for those that really want privacy, they can get in without being seen. I can find more about it you if you like—”
    â€œNo, don’t worry about it. I don’t need any secret passage. I’m just going there for the poetry. But what’s the dress code?”
    â€œThe dress code is either formal or fashionable, but it doesn’t really matter to the upstarts who hang out there. They’re just like monkeys, wearing and