With these words the past few weeks rippled through Hulan's mind-the boring cases, the light workload, the protectiveness of Investigator Lo. Zai must have known about the pregnancy all along.
Hulan tried a different tack. "A minute ago you were chiding me for being old-fashioned. Now you're telling me I can't do something because I'm pregnant."
"These are two different things," he said. "Am I not right, David?"
As an American, David was having trouble with this conversation. It was too personal to be having with his girlfriend's boss. Besides, what Zai said went to deep questions about the roles of men and women, of fathers and mothers, to which David wasn't sure he knew the answers. But David was a lawyer and knew how to move a conversation in another direction if he had to.
"If you're so worried about corruption," David said to Hulan, "you don't need to go out to the countryside to find it. In a few days here in Beijing I've seen several instances of corruption involving foreigners: those office buildings, the fees for hooking up phones, what you told me about the salaries for translators-"
"Everything you've seen is perfectly legal," Hulan interrupted impatiently. "Foreigners have more money than the Chinese people. They should pay more."
"A hundred grand for a secretary?"
"Could your secretary in Los Angeles set you up with new clients? Could she introduce you to the most important people in the city? How do you think you got your new legal matters so quickly?"
Again Zai attempted to act as peacemaker. "What David says is true. You don't need to go to the countryside to find corruption. You can find it right here in Beijing."
"I don't like to hear you say those words," she said.
"And I don't like the idea of you, my true heart daughter, going into that place."
"Uncle, you trained me. You taught me how to look. There is something going on in that factory. I feel it."
"If there is, then leave it to the local police," Zai said.
"And what if they're involved?"
When Zai jutted his chin, dismissing the accusation, Hulan felt David's hand cover hers.
"I don't like it," David said to Zai. "You don't like it. But can we stop her? Let her come down with me. She might not even be able to get into the factory. Then this whole thing will be over."
"And if I don't agree?" Zai asked.
"She'll probably do it anyway." David turned to Hulan. "I'm telling you, nothing's going on at Knight. I've seen the records. But if you want to spend a day in the factory, if that will put your mind at ease, then fine. Do it. But then let's not hear about it ever again."
"One day in the factory. No more," Zai conceded. "And I have one other condition. Investigator Lo accompanies you to the countryside. He can act as David's driver if you choose, but I want someone nearby who can look out for you if things go bad."
"They won't," David said. "She'll be perfectly safe, because the factory is perfectly safe. At the end of the day she'll come out of there tired, and that will be the end of it."
"She needs to be back in the office on Monday," Zai insisted, continuing the negotiation. "No more days off until the baby comes."
"Agreed," David said.
The men, having reached an understanding, looked at Hulan for her approval. But in listening to them debate what she could and could not do, Hulan had the strangest sensation of her life options drifting out of her control. She weighed what David had said. She trusted his judgment, but what if he was wrong and something criminal was going on at Knight? What if he was reading this with the same eyes that told him that his own reputation had brought in his first round of clients and not Miss Quo's connections?
There were deeper issues too. She didn't like to show her emotions either in public or private. Yet when David said he'd come here for work and not for her, she'd immediately revealed her hurt. When David made the comment about corruption in Beijing, she'd reacted by criticizing the U.S. Two hours ago she'd seen happiness before her; now she felt trapped. But had these feelings come from the realities of the conversation, from her own fluctuating hormones, or from a deeper belief that she didn't deserve happiness?
Finally, if something illegal was going on at Knight and it was somehow connected to Miaoshan's suicide, then going into the factory could put her and her child in danger. Why hadn't she thought of that? Why hadn't she thought of that all the way down the line-when she'd gone out on those easy cases in Beijing, when she'd hopped the train to go out to Da Shui, when she'd traipsed through the fields to see Tsai Bing, when she'd entered that strange cafe, when she'd visited the local police, or when she'd questioned Sandy Newheart and Aaron Rodgers?
Hulan raised her eyes to meet Zai's. "One week," she said, "and I will go back to my place." Those words could have many meanings, and she wasn't sure she understood any of them.
HULAN HAD FORGOTTEN HOW EASY IT WAS TO TRAVEL with a foreigner. By paying almost double what a typical Chinese national would pay, Miss Quo picked up two round-trip airline tickets from a travel agency. David gave instructions for Investigator Lo to fly down tomorrow, rent a car, and meet him at the Shanxi Grand Hotel. Hulan packed clothes that would be appropriate for any official meetings that might come up, as well as some old work clothes she found in the back of her closet.
An hour and twenty minutes after takeoff, they arrived in Taiyuan. A half hour after that they registered in the hotel. Upon check-in David was handed several envelopes. In their room, while Hulan unpacked, David read the faxes. Most were inconsequential, but two were important. One was from Miles, saying that Tartan saw no problems with David representing Governor Sun. In fact, it might prove useful. The second was the promised waiver from Tartan. The last was from Rob Butler; no new leads had turned up in the Rising Phoenix investigation. David wrote a couple of letters himself, and on their way through the lobby he handed them to the concierge to be faxed ASAP.
They ate in the hotel dining room, where they ordered the specialties of the region-thick tounao soup, steamed pork with pickled greens, and a plate of flavorful noodles. Hulan drank tea, while David sipped fen jiu, a strong wine from vineyards located to the north of the city. After dinner Hulan packed a separate bag with simple clothes, kissed David good-bye, promised that she would be back the next night, and left. She took the local bus back out to the crossroads near Da Shui Village and walked the final few li to Suchee's home.
The following morning, as David was taking a hot shower, Hulan washed her face with cold water. While David shaved, Hulan took a pair of Suchee's blunt scissors and cut her hair until the edges were uneven. While he put on a lightweight suit, Hulan slipped on some loose gray pants that came mid-calf and a short-sleeve white blouse, both of which were soft and thin from years of wear and many washings. (As the saying went: New for three years, old for three years, mending and fixing for another three years. These clothes fit the last category.) Then, while David perused the many dishes adorning the hotel's elaborate breakfast buffet, Hulan joined Suchee for a simple breakfast of a green onion pulled fresh from the earth tucked into a bun. At about the time that David opened his laptop to check his e-mail, Hulan took one last look at herself in Suchee's hand mirror and then set out across the fields.
By seven, when Hulan arrived at the Silk Thread Cafe, the old-timers had already taken their places for the day and were sucking at cups of tea, picking their teeth with toothpicks, and smoking cigarettes. The man who'd so brazenly spoken to Hulan during her last visit called out, "Good morning! You have come to see us again. Perhaps you have reconsidered our offer!"