Shanghai.
The city had a pile of problems: infrastructure, traffic, environmental pollution, the price of daily groceries and so on — amaranth two jiao a jin, eels one yuan eight jiao…
Amaranth is the xiancai people often eat.
Right now.
He was sitting in his office going over recent inspection notes, flipping through some files that had come in.
As he leafed, he noticed a letter and smiled, then tore it open.
Only a few lines inside.
After reading it he called his secretary over and said, “Buy a gift and send it over. Use my salary.”
“All right!”
After that he personally wrote a few lines of blessing.
They’d met two years earlier in the United States and had kept up correspondence.
They exchanged gifts during holidays.
They rarely talked shop; most of their conversations were about literature, art, and film.
Chen Qi would also send him books he’d bought in Hong Kong.
Not close, but on good terms.
The man loved the arts — liked movies, played a fine guitar.