The Flower Net by Lisa See Page B

you followed a one-eye-open, one-eye-closed policy,” Hulan said.
    “I did no such thing!”
    “Well, then, is it your habit to allow people without the proper permits to stay in this building?” Hulan gestured toward the hallway. “Will I find others in this place who do not have a
hukou
, a residency permit?”
    The deputy head of the Neighborhood Committee stared intently at her hands folded tightly in her lap.
    “Just tell me,” Hulan pressed, “was Mr. Su a legitimate resident here in Beijing? Was this argument over a true possession or over something that belonged to neither man?”
    This time the woman’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Inspector…”
    “You must speak up!”
    The woman looked defiantly at Hulan. “The Supreme Leader tells us that to be rich is glorious.”
    “Deng Xiaoping didn’t tell us to get rich by taking bribes, by harboring the criminal element, or by lying to the Ministry of Public Security.” Hulan looked past the woman’s shoulder to a uniformed man. “Take her down to the office. Have her make a full confession.”
    Hulan followed Widow Xie as she shuffled through the crowd of neighbors. At the door, Hulan raised her voice. “If some of you are here in Beijing illegally, I can assure you that I will be more forgiving to those who volunteer that information. Downstairs, you will find several police officers waiting for you to approach them if you have anything to discuss. If anyone has something to add specifically about this crime, I would like you to stay here and tell me immediately. If you have no business with either the officers downstairs or with me, go to your rooms. I will allow you just ten minutes to pass the word to the other residents and to make your decisions.”
    Hulan regarded the stony faces. She had already offered more options to these people than any of her colleagues would have dared. But she wasn’t finished.
    “I’m sure I don’t need to tell anyone the consequences if you are found to be lying,” she called out down the hallway. “You know the saying—leniency to those who confess; severity to those who hide. Already Widow Xie has been detained. Her case is compounded by her dishonesty. I would not like to see this happen to any of you.”
    A moment later, the room emptied. As she expected, no one chose to speak with her. Still, she hoped that at least some of them would come forward, because the stack of personal files on her desk was much smaller than the number of residents living in this building.
    Hulan sat still waiting for calm to settle over her, but she was angry. How could the deputy head be so stupid? Out of greed, the widow had forgotten her duty. Many times in her career, Hulan had elected to look the other way—to follow her own version of the one-eye-open, one-eye-closed policy—thinking that there was no harm in people seeking a flyspeck of freedom. But today there was little Hulan could do except watch as China’s “iron triangle” closed over not just the suspect in the murder, but also over Widow Xie and who knew how many others? It was this latter group—all innocents, really—who had had the pure misfortune to have traveled here illegally, to have found someone who was willing to twist the rules and rent them a room, and to have ended up in a place where a murder would bring the triangle’s ineluctable force down on them.
    The three sides of the iron triangle controlled a quarter of the world’s population. At one corner of the triangle was the
dangan
, the secret personal file, which was kept by local police stations and work units. If someone was unwise enough to make a political mistake (offering even mild criticism against the government) or make an error in behavior (getting caught having sex with an unmarried member of the opposite sex or showing a selfish attitude at work), a note would be placed in the file. This information would then follow a person throughout his lifetime, keeping him from