Whether it was something she really wanted, however, he could not tell.

It was ironic that he had seen her the last time in Wuxi, in a similar way, with her moving toward a car, and with him standing hidden behind a tree, unseen.

It appeared as if the current scene was conjuring up just another apparition of déjà vu all over again.

Still, there’s no stepping twice into the same river, not for her, not for him.

There she was, with her chauffeur hurrying to hold the door for her, looking like a grin shining in the afternoon light.

Only she was no longer the Shanshan he had known in Wuxi, but Yuan Jing in Shanghai, an acclaimed environmental activist and an influential Internet celebrity, determined to make a difference in today’s China.

As for him, he was still not able to come out into the open, to say hi to her, not even with any knowledge that he would be able to do anything for her, or for himself, an inspector being investigated by others in secret.

The present, when you are thinking

of it, is already slipping

into the past …

But it was not a moment for him to let the present slip away into the past again, and he hastened to pull himself together.

The Mercedes was rolling down the driveway, with her reaching a hand out of the car window, waving to others, but not to him, who was nowhere to be seen near the club entrance.

Soon, the spring is departing again.

How much more of the wind and rain

can it endure? The cobweb alone

seems to care, trying to catch

a wisp of fading memories.

Why is the door always shut,

covered in the dust of doubts?

A dog is barking in the cell

in the distance.

Who is the one walking beside you?

Inspector Chen finally came out from behind the column, walking around like a tourist who was enjoying himself in the brave New World, instead of leaving for home.

What he had just learned in the club meeting he had to digest in concentration.

One or two minutes later, however, he came to an abrupt stop at the sight of La Maison, a French restaurant located north of the club, with the club entrance still in view.

Outside the restaurant a colorful poster showed a splendidly lit stage with a bevy of half-clad French girls dancing in the evening. For the moment, it appeared to be a fairly quiet place, with none of the tables occupied outside. Glancing in through the half-open door, Chen saw hardly any customers inside, either.

He took a table outside, sitting under the poster, like a tourist with nothing better to do than to wait for the performance at night.

A young French waitress moved toward him with a large menu. He ordered just a cup of coffee.

After placing the coffee on the table and giving him the Wi-Fi password on a slip of paper, she withdrew. He typed in the password for his phone. It was a perhaps common scene in the age of Weibo and Weixin.