But something had already happened in the way of people’s thinking.

That same day, Chief Inspector Chen got a notice for him to leave the Shanghai Police Bureau for a Party school seminar in Suzhou.

It was an arrangement of dubious nature. Quite possibly a preliminary step to remove him from his bureau position. Some people in the Forbidden City were not pleased with his recent work, which he understood. But he did not find himself too worried about it.

For the first time in his career, Chen was seriously debating with himself whether he should go on serving as a Party-member chief inspector.

But he would have to do one more thing he’d promised as a chief inspector.

Chief Inspector Chen found himself to be the first one to step into a small Buddhist service hall, possibly the smallest in Longhua Temple.

Even for such a hall, its fee was more than ten thousand yuan, not including that for the script-chant service performed by the monks, the amount of which would have to be calculated by the length of the job. It was quite an expense for Chen, but he thought he could eke it out by quitting smoking and eating out for a month or two.

In spite of his mother’s devotion, Chen was not that into Buddhism. As it seemed to him, such services could function at the most as a sort of cold comfort – psychologically, if at all – for the survivors.

But for once, he thought he had no choice.

The head of the monks hurried over, a young man named Yuanjue, who wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and handed him a business card with his name and temple position printed in gold: The Number One Abbot Assistant.

‘The business is so hot here. But for you, the service would have required booking at least two or three months beforehand. Our abbot has taken your request into special consideration.’

‘I appreciate it very much.’

‘For you, Chief Inspector Chen, we will also chant for an extra half an hour for free.’

What could that mean? Chen failed to make an instant response.

‘Just give people here some red envelopes, Chief Inspector Chen. Don’t worry about it.’

But Chen became worried. He did not think he had enough left in his wallet for the red envelopes after paying for the scripture-chanting service.

Then Detective Yu and Peiqin arrived, carrying a variety of conventional offerings for such a Buddhist service.

‘Since we are doing it, we have to do it properly,’ Peiqin said, arranging on the service table the specially red-sealed cakes, buns, nuts and candies, all of which were supposedly for the benefit of the deceased in the other world.

‘She went to Shendacheng Restaurant for these special offerings early in the morning. There’s a growing demand for them,’ Yu said, raising the camera for pictures.

‘Yes, take some pictures,’ Chen said, with a touch of sentimentality in spite of himself. ‘I’ll have them delivered to Lou.’