Flower Net (Red Princess 1)

Between David and Bo Yun sat Li Nan, whose grandfather served on the Central Committee. The Chinese press had not been kind to Li Nan. She was allegedly worth $20 million. She was reputed to have a large collection of American pornographic videotapes with which she stimulated innocent young men. She liked to bathe in champagne. She owned a fleet of classic automobiles but preferred to be driven around the city in a white limousine.

Hulan had recently heard a story about how Li Nan had ordered a hundred-dish “emperor’s banquet,” featuring such delicacies as camel hump, moose nose, and bear paw. Hulan’s co-worker had lavished particular attention on the bear paw. It was one of the eight most precious ingredients in Chinese cuisine; the left front paw was recognized as the most tender and sweet because it was the one that the bear used to extract honey from bees’ nests. The meal cost $100,000 U.S., the investigator had told Hulan, and was totally illegal, since the bear meat and several other ingredients were protected by Chinese environmental laws.

This kind of story could circulate only because Li Nan’s grandfather had been accused of corruption. Hulan suspected Li Nan, like Henglai and everyone else in their circle, had bank accounts, stocks, and real estate in the United States, Switzerland, and Australia. If Li Nan had any brains, she would understand the old saying—as soon as the guest leaves, the tea becomes cold—and abandon China for her penthouse in New York before her grandfather lost all of his power or his life.

Hulan knew too well that Li Nan and her friends were powerful only in the sense that they had protection. If their father or grandfather died in disgrace, they could lose everything. Even the secure ones would have to wait for the older generation—men in their sixties, seventies, eighties, and nineties—to die before they themselves could assume real power, political power.

“Ning Ning, Di Di, sing us a song,” Bo Yun called out. A lovely woman, the daughter of China’s most famous opera singer, and a raffish fellow, the youngest son of a general, stood and went to the center of the room. The soft strains of a romantic melody filled the room as a giant video screen lit up with the image of a beach at sunset. A Chinese girl walked in the surf; a Chinese boy sat on a rock nearby. Ning Ning and Di Di each took microphones, then sang of love as the Chinese ideograms appeared at the bottom of the screen.

Bo Yun took a gulp of brown liquid from his snifter. He sank back into the banquette and beamed contentedly. “So, you want to talk about Guang Henglai. What can we tell you?”

“What do you know?” Hulan asked.

“He was rich,” Bo Yun said.

“Don’t try to be clever,” Hulan said. “His father was Guang Mingyun.”

“No, I mean Guang Henglai was rich.”

“Maybe his father spoiled him. He was an only son.”

“Henglai made his own money. Don’t you know that?”

“How?” David asked.

“He didn’t tell us these things.”

“Did he have a girlfriend?”

Bo Yun lit a Marlboro. Ning Ning and Di Di were holding hands now, mimicking the lovers on the screen.

“I used to see him,” Li Nan said. “But that was over a year ago.”

“Anyone else?”

Bo Yun exhaled a great gust of smoke and put a possessive arm around Li Nan’s shoulder. “Actually, we didn’t see him much anymore. He kind of disappeared after he broke up with Li Nan.”

“You mean he wasn’t welcome here?”

“No, nothing like that,” Li Nan said.

“She’s right, you know,” Bo Yun agreed. “We all liked Henglai.”

“And Billy too,” Li Nan added.

“Billy Watson?” David clarified.

“You bet,” Bo Yun said enthusiastically. “He was part of our crowd. It’s good for us to be friendly with the American ambassador’s son.”

“For guanxi,” David said.

“You have learned the ways of our country very quickly,” Bo Yun said.

“Guang Mingyun also told us that his son and Billy were friends,” David said.

Bo Yun shook his head. “No, no, more than friends. They were business partners. Pretty soon, they are too busy making deals to spend time with us. Between you and me”—Bo Yun leaned forward confidentially—“none of us like to work too hard.” He fell back on the cushions and laughed. His friends, once again, joined in.

“What kind of deals? What were they into?” Hulan queried.