Chapter 8: Rent

"No," said Xu Zhengyuan, into the silence on the plaza. "I did not sign it."

He said it clearly, to the district officer and to the cameras and to the whole red-carpeted crowd.

"My company will review that lease on Monday morning. If the rent is a gift, someone will answer for it."

Dong Wei went the colour of paper.

He was gone behind his kitchen door before anybody could ask him another question.

Mu Qing did not wait to see the rest.

He took Ran by the hand and walked home through the crowd, past the lion heads and the photographers.

His back was straight and his face was blank.

Behind him he heard Fan Yue shouting at the man from the newspaper to spell the name Mu with a proper character.

He did not turn around.

He put Ran to bed with his pear and the second dose of medicine, and slept for fourteen hours in his clothes.

On Monday, before dawn, someone knocked on the shutter.

It was an old man in a quilted jacket, with a thin file under his arm.

Mu Qing knew him.

He was the landlord of numbers one to nine, Sanlian Lane, and had been for thirty years.

"Boss Mu," said the old man, bowing slightly. "I came to say goodbye. I've sold the row."

"To Dong Wei?" Mu Qing said sharply.

"No, no. He offered, but I thought you'd rather not," said the old man. He looked relieved to have been asked.

"A private company. Very quick, very fair, all in cash. They paid on Sunday night."

He held out a receipt with the name of a company at the top.

It was one Mu Qing had never heard of.

Under it was a signature he did not know, and printed beneath it: authorised agent, the chairman's secretary.

Mu Qing put on his shoes.

He found Xu in the lobby of the Jinshan Hotel, at a small table with a cup of black coffee.

The Sunday papers lay untouched beside it, and Xu looked tired.

The secretary stood behind him with a folder, and had the sense to look at the floor.

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