The young security guard nodded to Li as he passed through the staff gate at the rear of the Jingtan joint venture hotel on Jianguomennei Avenue. Li slipped in the back door to the ground-floor kitchen and looked around for Yongli. But there was no sign of him. Sous-chefs were chopping vegetables and preparing marinades, jointing chickens and basting duck for roasting.

Li stopped one of the waitresses. “Where’s Ma Yongli?”

She nodded towards the door. “Out front.”

Li crossed to the door, opening it a crack, and peeked out. Yongli stood by a hot plate and gas ring behind an ornate counter with a Chinese canopy. His white smock seemed to emphasise his height and his bulk, his round face solemn below his tall white chef’s hat. He gazed out at the early eaters in the twenty-four-hour Café China, his mind somewhere else altogether. He was on front-of-house duty tonight, cooking dishes from the day’s Special Menu in view of the customers who ordered them. But the serious diners were not yet in and, for the moment at least, he was idle, his mind free to wander. Li watched him affectionately for a moment, then issued a short, sharp whistle from between his front teeth. Yongli’s head snapped round and his face lit up when he saw Li. He glanced about quickly to see if any of the managers were watching, then hurried over to the door, pushing Li back into the kitchen with an irresistible force. “Well? Well? Come on, tell me. What happened?”

The smiled drained from Li’s face and he lowered his head and shrugged. “The Commissioner said it was Party policy to ‘discourage nepotism in all its insidious forms.’”

All the animation left Yongli’s expression. “Aw, come on, you’re shitting me, right?”

Li retained his grave demeanour. “It’s what he said.” He paused, and then a big grin split his face. “But it didn’t stop me getting the job.”

“You bastard!” Yongli grabbed at him, but Li backed off, grinning stupidly.