Chen, Jericho estimated, had come into the world sometime between 1966 and 1969: a time in which his name was about as common as caterpillars in salad. Hong-bing literally meant ‘Red Soldier’.
Tu looked at the sun.
‘Hongbing has a daughter.’ The way he said it implied that this alone was worth telling the story for. His eyes lit up, then he got a grip of himself. ‘She’s very pretty and unfortunately very reckless too. Two days ago, she disappeared without a trace. Generally speaking she trusts me, and I’m tempted to say she trusts me even more than her father. Anyway, it’s not the first time she’s taken off for a while, but before she has always let someone know, so to speak. Him, me or at least one of her friends.’
‘And she forgot this time.’
‘Or she didn’t have a chance. Hongbing is worried out of his mind, and rightly so. Yoyo has a tendency to annoy the wrong people. Or, shall we say, the right ones.’
Tu had outlined the problem in his own way. Jericho pursed his lips. It was clear what was expected of him. Besides that, the name Yoyo had unleashed something inside him.
‘And I’m supposed to look for the girl?’
‘You would be doing me a good turn if you met with Chen Hongbing.’ Cheerfully Tu spotted his ball and began to pace more briskly. ‘Only, of course, if you feel you’re able to.’
‘What exactly has she done?’ asked Jericho. ‘Yoyo, I mean.’
Tu stepped over to the white object in the shortly cut grass, looked Jericho in the eyes and smiled. His look said that he wanted to get back to putting now. Jericho smiled back.
‘Tell your friend it would be an honour.’
Tu nodded as if he had expected nothing less. He called Jericho xiongdi one more time and turned his undivided attention to the putter and ball.
The younger generation in China hardly played the game any more. Their tone of voice had become globalised. If someone wanted something from somebody, they generally came straight to the point without wasting any time. With Chen Hong-bing it was clearly a different matter. Everything about him marked him out as a representative of an older China, one in which there were a thousand ways of losing face. Jericho was indecisive for a moment, then had an idea of how he could salvage the situation for Chen. He leaned over, pulled a carpet knife from the toolbox next to the desk and began to briskly cut the chair free from the bubble wrap.
Chen raised both hands in horror.
‘I beg you! This is so embarrassing for me—’
‘It doesn’t have to be.’ said Jericho cheerfully. ‘To be honest I was hoping for your help. There’s a second knife in the toolbox. What would you say to us joining forces and making this place a little more comfortable?’
It was an ambush. At the same time he was offering Chen a way out of the self-inflicted mess. You help me, I’ll help you, then you’ll be contributing to my move, we’ll both be able to sit more comfortably and you can get the dust off your face. Quid pro quo.
Chen seemed uncertain. He scratched his head, rattled himself to his feet, then fished the knife out of the box and took hold of the other chair. As he began to cut through the sticky-tape, he visibly relaxed.
‘I appreciate your gesture very much, Mr Jericho. Tian unfortunately didn’t have the opportunity to tell me that you were just moving in.’
Which meant the idiot hadn’t mentioned it. Jericho shrugged his shoulders and pulled the cover off his armchair.
‘He didn’t know.’
That was a lie too, but in that way they had both respected Tu and could turn their attention to more important matters. One after the other, they pushed the armchairs in front of the desk.
‘It doesn’t look so bad after all.’ Jericho grinned. ‘Now we just need something to refuel. What do you think? I could fetch us some coffee. There’s a patisserie downstairs, they do—’
‘No, don’t worry,’ Chen interrupted. ‘I’ll fetch them.’
Ah yes. The game.
‘No, I couldn’t let you.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘No, it’s my pleasure. You’re my guest.’
‘And you’re receiving me unexpectedly. As I already said—’
‘It’s the least I can do for you. How do you like your coffee?’
‘How do you like yours?’
‘That’s very kind of you, but—’
‘Would you like nutmeg in yours?’
That was the latest thing: nutmeg in coffee. It had allegedly saved Starbucks from bankruptcy last winter. The whole damn world had started drinking nutmeg coffee and swore that it tasted amazing. It reminded Jericho of the Sichuan Espresso craze which had rolled across the country a few years before, transforming the taste of Italian coffee into an Asian variant of Dante’s Inferno. Jericho had taken a little sip from the rim of a cup once, and even days later had still felt as though he could pull the skin from his lips.
He gave in. ‘A normal cappuccino would be great. The patisserie is just downstairs on the left.’
Chen nodded.
And, suddenly, he was smiling too. The skin on his face stretched taut, making Jericho fear it might tear off, but it was a thoroughly lovely, friendly smile, and one which disappeared only once it reached the cracked wastelands beneath his eyes.
‘Yoyo isn’t her real name,’ explained Chen, as they sat slurping coffee together. By now the air-conditioning was on and had created a reasonably bearable temperature. Chen’s posture suggested he thought the soft leather seat might throw him off at any second, but compared with the man who had skulked through the doorframe a quarter of an hour before, he made an almost normal impression.
‘So what is?’
‘Yuyun.’
‘Cloud of Jade.’ Jericho raised his eyebrows appreciatively. ‘A beautiful choice.’
‘Oh, I gave it a great deal of thought! I wanted it to be a light, fresh name, full of poetry, full of—’ Chen’s gaze clouded over and wandered off into the distance.
‘Harmony,’ completed Jericho.
‘Yes. Harmony.’
‘So why does she call herself Yoyo?’
‘I don’t know.’ Chen sighed. ‘I know far too little about her, that’s the problem. Just because you have named someone, it doesn’t mean you know them. The label doesn’t define the content. And what are names anyway? Just rallying calls for the lost. And yet everyone hopes that their own child will be an exception, it’s like being anaesthetised. As if names could change anything. As if there has ever been any truth in a name!’ He took a noisy gulp of his coffee.
‘And Yoyo – Yuyun has disappeared?’
‘Let’s stick with Yoyo. Apart from me no one calls her Yuyun. Yes, I haven’t seen or spoken to her for two days now. Didn’t Tu Tian tell you about any of it?’
‘Only a little.’
For some unknown reason this seemed to please Chen. Then Jericho realised. The way Tu had said it: I’m tempted to say that she trusts me more than her father. Whatever it was that bound Tu and Chen together, and however close this bond was – Yoyo’s preference came between them. And that’s why Chen had wanted the reassurance that, this time, not even Tu knew anything.