“I’ll resume playing here,” said Bai Bing, selecting normal playback speed. They seemed to be looking at Chen Xufeng’s living room. Onscreen, a middle-aged woman in a black suit stood with the fruit basket in her hand, as if she’d just entered. Chen Xufeng was sitting on the sofa.

“Chief Chen, Director Wen sent me to visit you, and to express his gratitude for last time. He wanted to come in person, but thought it was best not to show up here too often to prevent idle gossip.”

Chen Xufeng said, “When you go back, tell Wen Xiong that he’d better stay on the straight and narrow, now that he’s in good shape. Going too far all the time doesn’t do anyone good. He’d better not blame me for losing patience!”

“Yes, of course, how could Brother Wen forget your advice? Nowadays, he’s been actively contributing to society—he’s built four elementary schools in impoverished districts. He’s also dedicated to making progress in politics. The city has already elected him as its delegate to the National People’s Congress!” As she spoke, the visitor set the fruit basket onto the coffee table.

“Take that with you,” Chen Xufeng said, waving a hand.

“We would never bring anything too fancy, Chief Chen. We know how you’d hate it. This is just some fruit as a token of our gratitude. I suppose you haven’t seen the way Chief Wen tears up whenever he mentions you. He calls you our loving parents reborn, you know.”

Once the visitor left, Chen Xufeng shut the door and returned to the coffee table. He tipped all the fruit out of the basket, picked up the check at the bottom, and slid it in his pocket.

The Senior Official and Lu Wenming eyed Chen Xufeng coldly. Clearly they hadn’t known any of this. Wen Xiong was the director general of Licheng Group, an enormous corporation spanning dining, long-distance travel, and many other services. Its start-up money had come from drug profits from Wen Xiong’s crime syndicate, which had made this city into a crucial hub in the Yunnan-Russia drug-trafficking route. With Wen Xiong’s successful expansion into aboveboard commerce, his underground business, drawing nourishment from the former, grew even more rapidly. The result in the hinterland city was the proliferation of drugs and the decline of public safety. And Chen Xufeng, the backstage supporter, was a powerful safeguard for its continued survival.

“You took payment in dollars? It must have gone to your son,” Bai Bing said cheerfully. “The money that’s paying for his American college education all came from Wen Xiong, after all…. Speaking of which, don’t you want to see what he’s doing right now, on the other side of the planet? That’s easy enough. It’s midnight in Boston right now, but the last two times I saw him, he wasn’t sleeping yet.” Bai Bing sent the point of view up into space, twirled the Earth 180 degrees, then zoomed in on North America. He found the city splendid with lights on the Atlantic coast, then located the apartment building so quickly it was clear he must have searched it before. The point of view entered an apartment bedroom, exposing an awkward scene: the boy in his room with two prostitutes, one white and one black.