‘Yes, we all understand,’ Peiqin said in an abated voice. ‘It’s a very special seven-seven ceremony. We all have to come.’

‘Alas, that’s about all we can do.’

Behind the offerings on the table, there was a red-paper-covered tablet that showed a picture of Shen with a radiant smile playing on her lips. None of them in the hall had met her in life. Yu had obtained the picture from the police file. It had been taken in Wangkai, a well-known studio on Nanjing Road, as part of the honeymoon package for the happy newlyweds.

Peiqin perched herself on a stool by the service table and started folding a bunch of fake money into the shape of ancient silver ingots, for use in the nether world.

To Chen’s surprise, Bian and Gu also walked into the service hall in large strides.

How much the two uninvited visitors could have known about the deceased with her name inscribed on the service hall tablet, Chen had no idea.

Bian had called for a celebration banquet for the successful release of the documentary, but Chen could not have made it because of the service at the temple.

‘It’s for Shen – one of the victims of the air pollution.’

‘You mean … very well. It’s something worth doing, Chief Inspector Chen,’ Bian had said, with a surprising resolution in his voice. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Bian must then have told Gu about it, and they came together.

But Chen was glad to see two more people at the service hall. It should not turn out to be a lonely service for her.

The two newcomers stood side by side, holding bunches of tall incense in their hands after bowing respectfully to the tablet.

‘You should have told me earlier, Chief Inspector Chen,’ Mr Gu said with a complaining note in his voice.

Like always, Gu lost no time entering into the role of a magnanimous businessman. He immediately started distributing a bunch of red envelopes to the monks filed up there, as though having prepared them long beforehand.

‘Haven’t you heard the old proverb? It won’t be so good for “old monks to chant the scripture without putting their hearts and souls into it”. Red envelopes are always much appreciated and needed, which makes a world of difference. You cannot help it in today’s materialistic society.’

Bian must have learned something else about the deceased. He carried in his hand a large cardboard box. To the surprise of the people there, he took out a fresh air machine made of cardboard, vividly painted and decorated, probably the same size as the real one.

‘It’s symbolic, I have to say, just pathetically symbolic,’ Bian said, shaking his head.

‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Gu said. ‘Lianping also wants to come here today, but she suffers morning sickness with her pregnancy. So she asks me to take some pictures for her. They may be used for an article.’

In the silence that ensued, the monks started chanting with a flourish of their odd-shaped instruments. People seemed relieved at the realization that they did not have to talk for the moment.