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knocking will make no difference. It’s not a matter of your having the guts. Those officials won’t talk to you, not without undeniable evidence, of which you have none.”
     
    “It may sound like I’m quoting the People’s Daily, but corruption is a cancer of today’s society. We have to do something about it.”
     
    “Well, the recent prosecution and execution of several senior officials may give you the impression that the CCP leadership is committed to this. With all the media operating under government control, however, self-policing may never be practical. It won’t work for a ruling party accountable to no one,” Yu said thoughtfully. “People say that anticorruption campaigns make a lot of thunder these days, and at first, quite a bit of rain too. Then still some thunder, but less rain. After a while, you won’t hear or see anything at all.”
     
    Chen was surprised by Yu’s eloquence. Yu must have given serious thought to the issue. Earlier, much-propagandized campaigns had given people reason to suspect that most of the officials, especially those at the top, would manage to wriggle off the hook.
     
    “It’s like a proverb, Yu. I haven’t seen you for a couple of days, and you talk like another man.”
     
    “You’re a high-profile chief inspector,” Yu said, not responding to Chen’s comment. “It may only be another sign of the Party’s determination.”
     
    “No, I don’t think so. The Party authorities are quite determined in this. For one thing, they have allowed reports about the case to be published in official newspapers. As Comrade Zhao said, corruption could develop ‘to such a serious extent that it will threaten the government.’ “
     
    “Come on. At most, the discipline committee functions like a watchdog. The ultimate decision will be made in the interests of the Party. Whatever investigation is done, it’s still nothing but a show.”
     
    “For me, it’s not a show, as you know.”
     
    “And that’s why it can be so dangerous,” Yu said. “Have you heard the premier’s statement about one hundred coffins?”
     
    “Yes, everybody has heard it.” The premier made it as a gesture of his determination. Knowing that it is impossible to do so, he still tried to do so because it’s what he should do. That was a Confucian statement Chen had learned from his late father. The premier had played an important role, Chen had heard, in pushing for this investigation.
     
    “Even those on the top know it’s an impossible job,” Yu said.
     
    Yu must have his reason to be so worried, Chen suspected. The pork skin no longer tasted crisp, but smoked carp head still made a palatable dish for the wine. He put a large piece of the fish cheek meat on top of Yu’s rice.
     
    “We have done difficult and dangerous cases together before, Detective Yu, and you have never encouraged me to quit. What do you know?”
     
    “There is one thing I have to tell you,” Yu said. “Hua Ting, a veteran cop in Fuzhou, died in a most mysterious way a couple of days ago— within a week after he had taken over the Xing case, a mission similar to yours.”
     
    “Any foul play suspected?”
     
    “As foul as you could imagine. His naked body was found in a prostitute’s room. An overdose of Chinese Viagra—according to the whore’s statement. Stories with such sordid details run like wildfire in tabloid newspapers there. My father, Old Hunter, does not believe it. He knew Hua for years. A family man, and an honest cop, Hua would have never done anything like that.”
     
    “That’s the worst ending possible for a cop. His name tarnished, and he will never rest in peace.”
     
    “Old Hunter discussed it with me and he wanted me to talk to you. You know what? He calls those crooked officials ‘red rats,’ with the barn of the Chinese society under their control.”
     
    “That’s a superb metaphor.” But Chen did not want to push on. He refused to see the system as a barn run