Page 77 of Never
‘I always know what men are thinking.’
‘But how?’
‘They’re always thinking the same thing.’
She put on her panties and bra, then stood a little longer contemplating the racks of clothes. Kai felt guilty staying in bed watching her. There was so much he had to do, for himself and for his country. But it was hard to tear his gaze away.
He said: ‘It doesn’t matter what you wear, does it? As soon as you get to the studio they’re going to put you in some fantastic costume.’ Sometimes he suffered the dark suspicion that she dressed up for the handsome young male actors she worked with. She had so much more in common with them than with him.
Ting said: ‘It always matters what I wear. I’m a celebrity. People expect me to be special. Drivers, doormen, cleaners and gardeners all tell their families and friends: “You’ll never guess who I saw today – Tao Ting! Yes, her fromLove in the Palace!” I don’t want them to say that I’m not so beautiful in real life.’
‘Of course, I get it.’
‘Anyway, I’m not going straight to the studio. They’re filming a big sword fight today. I’m not needed until two o’clock.’
‘What are you going to do with your free morning?’
‘I’m taking my mother shopping.’
‘Nice.’
Ting was close to her mother, Cao Anni, who was also an actor. They talked on the phone every day. Ting’s father had died in a car crash when she was thirteen. The same crash left her mother with a limp that had blighted her career. But Anni had found a new line of work doing voice-overs.
Kai liked Anni. ‘Don’t make her walk too far,’ he said to Ting. ‘She hides it, but her leg still hurts.’
Ting smiled. ‘I know.’
Of course she knew. He was telling her to be thoughtful about her own mother. He always tried not to act like a parent with Ting, but sometimes it happened anyway. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘I’m glad you care about her. She likes you, too. She thinks you’ll look after me when she’s gone.’
‘I will.’
Ting made a decision and pulled on a pair of faded blue Levi’s jeans.
Without looking away from her, Kai turned his mind to the day ahead. He had a rendezvous with an important spy.
He was booked on a lunchtime flight to Yanji, a mid-size city close to the border with North Korea. Although he was now the boss of the foreign intelligence department, he still personally ran a few of the most valuable spies, mostly those he had recruited when he was lower in the hierarchy. One such was a North Korean general called Ham Ha-sun. For some years now Ham had been the Guoanbu’s best source of inside information about what was going on in North Korea.
And North Korea was China’s great weakness.
It was the soft underbelly, the Achilles heel, the kryptonite, and all the other images for a fatal weakness in a strong body. The North Koreans were key allies, and they were desperately unreliable. Kai met Ham regularly, and between scheduled meetings they could contact one another to request an emergency assignation. Today’s meeting was routine, but still important.
Ting put on a bright blue sweatshirt and stepped into a pair of cowboy boots. Kai looked at the clock beside the bed and got up.
He washed quickly and put on his office suit. While he was dressing, Ting kissed him goodbye and left.
There was smog over Beijing, and Kai took a mask in case he needed to walk anywhere. His overnight bag was packed ready for the trip. He took out his heavy winter coat and carried it over his arm: Yanji was a cold city.
He left the apartment.
***
There were four hundred thousand people in Yanji, and almost half of them were Korean.
The city had expanded fast after the Second World War, and as Kai’s plane descended he gazed at the ranks of modern buildings packed closely together both sides of the wide Buerhatong River. China was North Korea’s main trading partner, so thousands of people crossed the border every day in both directions to do business, and Yanji was an important entrepôt for such trade.
In addition, hundreds of thousands of Koreans – perhaps millions – lived and worked in China. Many were registered immigrants; some were prostitutes; not a few were unpaid agricultural workers or purchased wives – never actually called slaves. Life in North Korea was so bad that to be a well-fed slave in China might not have seemed a terrible fate, Kai thought.
