Yan Da ’84, or Crackdown in Shanghai

by Shao Wang

After I left the army, I was sent to the East China Law and Politics Institute for two years of training. Upon graduation, I chose to be a police detective. In 1984, I was assigned to a post in my home neighborhood in Shanghai, because I knew almost everyone there, and the station chief, who had watched me grow up, insisted that I work with him.

No. 1984-16 was the first case I handled in my short career as a police detective. It seemed easy. A young man was accused of sleeping with a military officer’s wife. According to the new criminal law, it is a felony to have an affair with a serviceman’s spouse. The perpetrator was my old gang leader, Jet Hair. I knew Chief was testing me.

When he was shoved into the investigation room, Jet Hair looked delighted to find me sitting behind the sturdy desk. He sat down and asked if he could have a cigarette. I gestured for the guard to uncuff him and leave us alone.

He puffed on the Grand Frontgate I’d given him and shook his head.

“Little Snake, I can’t believe you’re now a policeman. Motherfucker! How much do they pay you?”
I didn’t answer him. I kept on flipping through the pages in his file to unnerve him.

“Gao Ming, do you know what you are charged with?” I asked after a few minutes, staring down at him.

Jet Hair studied my face and shrugged. “I didn’t do it.”

“Do I have to remind you of the government and party’s lenient policy for those who confess?” I said. “How many times have you been here?”

He gave me a strange look.

“You know better than I do, motherfucker. I was your big brother, Little Snake, remember? I helped you chop off that professor’s ear when he slept with your mo—”

“Criminal Gao Ming, my name is Hong Jun. I am the principal investigator of your case. Now, answer my question: Did you or did you not sleep with a woman named Wang Jiao?”

“What do you mean by sleeping with her?” he asked.

“You know what I mean.”

“Don’t pretend you’re a fucking saint.” His face turned red. He spat on the floor and said, “I saved your mother’s name. Why didn’t you ask your navy father why he didn’t stay home—”

“Gao Ming!” I banged on the desk. “Remember, I am the last person you should offend. If you want to play hardball, we will play hardball.” I stood up, grabbed an electric baton from the wall, and thrust it into his crotch. “Do you want to take this investigation as an opportunity or as a punishment? I can blow your bird into a silk worm and make sure it will never fly.”

“Please, don’t,” he screamed. “I am terribly sorry.” Beads of sweat formed on his brow. The guy used to be the bravest person in my old gang.

I returned to my chair behind the desk. “How long did you stay in the re-education camp last time, Gao Ming?”

“Two years.”

“For what crime?”

“I slept with two women.”

“Your file says you seduced the two women.”

“They were sluts!”

“Do you know how many years you will spend in jail for sleeping with a serviceman’s wife?”

“I didn’t—”

“How many years?”

“Two years,” he murmured.

“Minimum. Maximum seven years. It all depends on your behavior in this room.”

Jet Hair started to talk. After being released from jail, he couldn’t find a job, so he started to sell crabs at a street market in a trendy neighborhood. There he met a woman who loved seafood. They chatted often at his stall. One day, she invited him to her apartment. They became close friends. On his third visit, an old woman, her mother-in-law, crashed open the door and caught them in bed. A neighbor had tipped her off, she said.

“Did you know that Wang Jiao was married?”

He hesitated, then he nodded his head.

“Did you know her husband was an army officer serving on the frontier?”

He lowered his head.

“Then why did you do it?”

“She invited me in, and I liked her.”

“Why didn’t you find a single woman, Jet Hair?” I suddenly realized that I was calling him by his nickname.

He didn’t answer.

“Did you say you had sex with her three times?”

He tried to say something, but I pressed on. “Three times, eh?”

He nodded. A strand of hair dangled in his eyes.

“You did not know her husband was a serviceman when you had sex with her, did you?” I asked again, watching his reaction carefully.

He had no response; his head hung even lower, like an oversized watermelon.

“Do you understand my question, Gao Ming?”

He nodded his head.

“And you did not know—”

He raised his head, and his eyes met mine. “She told me,” he said.

“Then why did you do it, since you knew she was untouchable?” After a moment, I asked, “Do you know the consequence of what you just said?”

He sighed. “Just my bad luck. Let me sign a confession sheet. I’d rather spend two years in jail.”

Later, Chief praised me for getting the confession on my first interrogation, but he wanted me to interview the woman to make sure that Jet Hair wasn’t hiding something else.


The woman sat in front of me with open hostility. She was a good-looking woman in her early thirties, without children. Her eyes met mine. There was a hint of sarcasm in them. Her skin was so pale that she had freckles on her face. She wore a turquoise shirt and a long skirt of the same color. The top of her shirt was unbuttoned, giving me a glimpse of her flesh.

“Comrade Wang Jiao, how are you?” I said cheerfully.

“Fire your questions,” she said and folded her arms.

I stammered, “I just want you to know that you are under no obligation to answer. We’ve asked you here to help us solve Case No. 1984-16. Do you know a young man named Gao Ming? Yes? Did you have—”

A pitiful smile played on her rosy lips. “No,” she spat out the word.

I thought she’d heard me wrong.

“You know we are not charging you with anything, and this conversation is strictly confidential. Your honesty would be greatly appreciated.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

I paused. Then I said, “Let me rephrase the question. Has Gao Ming slept with you?”

“Yes and no.”

“What does that mean?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Yes, we slept together; no, we didn’t have sex.”

I stopped writing and studied my hands. “That’s not what Gao Ming confessed. He admitted to having an affair with you.”

“I don’t know what he told you, but I am telling the truth. We didn’t have sex. It’s that simple.”

It was a strange statement. I tried to figure out why she’d made it. Was she trying to save Gao Ming or her marriage? Obviously, if she denied having sex, Gao Ming’s confession might be questioned by the court. But why were they contradicting each other? Why hadn’t they prepared the same answer? This put me in a bad light. I didn’t want to be suspected of extracting a confession through unnecessary force. Maybe they hadn’t had enough time to compare notes before Gao Ming’s arrest. Maybe she now realized the gravity of the crime and was trying to help him.

“Comrade Wang Jiao, I have to make it clear that our conversation is being recorded,” I held up my pen, “and you will have to authenticate it at the end of this meeting.” Her smile annoyed me, so I raised my voice. “If we later find out that one of you is making a false statement, you both will be in even bigger trouble.”

She tilted her head a little. “I don’t know what you are implying. Do you want me to tell you the truth or not?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why are you questioning my honesty? Why should I lie to you?”

For a moment, I felt that I was the one being questioned. I continued, “You said you didn’t have sex. What did you do?”

She smirked. “What else do you think we would do, as man and woman?”

“In her statement, your mother-in-law said she saw you naked in bed.”

“Of course.” She shrugged, giving a chuckle, but I noticed a fleeting shadow of sadness in her eyes.

“But you said you didn’t have intercourse,” I said.

“That’s correct.”

“Did you—touch each other?” I blushed.

“We did everything else,” she said.

“What is everything else?”

“Use your imagination.” Her black eyes challenged me.

I took a deep breath. The whiteness of her flesh bothered me. I could see the rim of her red bra.

“How many times did you meet each other?”

“Many times.”

“Gao Ming told me three times.”

“We met each other alone three times, always in my apartment.”

“How many times did you sleep with each other?”

She looked at me.

“I don’t mean having sex, of course.”

“We didn’t go to bed together the first time.”

“Why did you ask him to your apartment?”

“I liked him. We talked a lot and I was thrilled by his experiences.”

“But he knew you were married to a serviceman.”

“Not at the beginning. I told him the first time we slept together.”

I gazed into her eyes and asked, “How many men have you slept with, in addition to Gao Ming?” My hand toyed with my pen. I could hear my heart pounding.

“Is this an interrogation?” she asked.

I remembered Chief’s warning to leave her out. Servicemen’s spouses are always protected. So I shook my head. “You don’t have to answer the question,” I said.

“I can tell you: one, my husband. The last time was two years and six months ago. He has never returned from the front. He is waiting for a promotion.”

Our eyes met and mine said, “I am sorry.” I pretended to read her file, but couldn’t see the words in front of me. I remembered my conversation with Jet Hair and our past association.

“Wang Jiao,” I softened my voice, “what did you two talk about?” I was curious. She was a librarian. What did she find in common with a convict and a street peddler? Dostoevsky psychoanalyzing freshwater crabs?

“We talked a lot. He told me about his risky life as a teenager. He told me he once helped a friend whose father was a military man stationed on an island. The friend’s mother had had an affair with a professor.”

“Please stop,” I said.

“They caught them in the professor’s bedroom. He wanted to cut off the professor’s penis, but his friend’s mother begged for leniency and promised she would never—”

“Please, Wang Jiao.”

“The professor was arrested and the mother tried to commit suicide afterwards. Gao Ming saved her by taking her to the emergency room.”

“That’s enough!” I said. My eyes burned.

She held my gaze. “I am terribly sorry,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t love him, but I like him. He is not a bad man.” She stood up and walked to the desk. She put her hand on mine and said, “Save him, Little Snake.”


I barged into Chief’s office. It was a mess. The lamp on the desk was broken. I used to do my homework under it. While in high school, I fooled around with a local gang led by Jet Hair. After our gang had a bloody street fight, the chief arrested me and returned me to my distraught mother. He assured her that I would never disappoint her again and would become a good student. For three months, Chief made me sit in his office and do my homework after school. He also asked my teachers to give me extra assignments. He would reward me with cigarettes and remind me that if I failed my tests, he would lose face in the community. To make sure that I didn’t cause trouble at home, he constantly checked in with my mother. I was saved from a criminal career, and graduated from high school.

The fluorescent lights on the ceiling were blinking like crazy. Documents were piled up on his desk, on the floor, and on the only couch in the room. He was chain smoking, deep in thought.

“Chief, these are the real thing!” I said and threw a pack of Marlboros on his desk.

He studied the pack. “Where did you get them?”

“My sailor friend just returned from Thailand.” I sat on the corner of his desk.

“Thailand? Did he see anything interesting?”

I was about to tell him when he nodded toward the door. I closed it. He stood up, opened the pack, and threw me a cigarette. I left it on the desk. I smoked only occasionally. He savored his Marlboro and then said, “Real cigarettes taste much better than fake ones. So what did he see in Bangkok?”

“As soon as the ship docked at the wharf, a group of young women rushed up the gangplank and two girls hugged him.” I made the story up just to please him.

“The girls hugged him?”

“They were wearing bikinis, and wanted to have sex with him.”

“Did he do it? Did he?” Chief’s eyes popped wide open. They looked as if they might drop out.

“My friend told them he had no money.”

“No money?” He sat down.

I stretched my imagination. “They offered to service him for free.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because it was his first time in Thailand, to promote friendship between the Chinese and Thai people.”

Chief laughed. “That’s a good one. We should have been sailors. This job pays nothing. Hong Jun, don’t forget to bring your friend here when he’s around.”

“Chief, about that case,” I said.

Chief sat down in his chair and watched me. “How did it go? Did the woman admit that they had sex?”

“She denied it,” I said. “I tend to believe her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think we should drop the case. We don’t have one, if the woman denies having sex.”

“But he confessed. End of story.” Chief waved his hand. “I can’t let him walk away. Do you know Big Head, the woman’s husband?”

I shook my head.

“I watched him grow up, just like I did you. He was a bright kid. His father passed away early. It was hard for his mother to raise him. The woman and I go a long way back. We’re old comrades, if you know what I mean,” he said. “I have a responsibility to his family.”

“What will we do with the wife’s statement?”

“Forget about it, if it’s not helping the case.” He became impatient.

“How many years are we recommending?” It was usually the police department’s responsibility to suggest the terms of punishment. “One year, since he has confessed?”

“One year?” he shook his head vehemently. “Hong Jun, we cannot let western lifestyles affect the morality of our young people. Ever since we opened the door to the outside world, flies have come in with the larks. Our task is to preserve the stability and morality of our community. Adultery cases have increased dramatically in recent years. We have to kill a chicken to scare the monkeys. Let’s talk about his sentence next week. A new policy is coming.”

I wanted to ask about the new policy, but swallowed my question.

“In the meantime, may I investigate this case further?” I still wanted to do something for Gao Ming and the woman.

Chief nodded.

When I was at the door, he said, “Little Snake, say hello to your mother for me when you see her.”

“Sure,” I said. I detected an undertone in his voice, and I didn’t like it a bit. A question suddenly popped into my mind: when did my mother start to smoke?


Two days later, Chief called me into his office. He closed the door and said, “Has anything interesting happened?”

I shook my head and asked, “What’s the noise outside?”

Chief laughed. “I saw Generous Turtle this morning. He chased Wang Jiao with his broom and cursed his wife again. A bunch of kids were making fun of him. I saw his face covered with blood, so I stopped him and reminded him that his wife is dead. He cried and accused everyone in the police station of sleeping with his woman. I had to handcuff him to the gate until he cooled down.”

After Generous Turtle was crippled in a car accident, rumors spread around that his bird was dead. His young wife couldn’t take the gossip and ran away with a Hong Kong businessman. Generous Turtle went half-crazy. Most of the time, he would sweep the streets quietly, but when pranksters told him that a young woman on the street was his wife, he would chase her around, demanding that she return home. Chief usually took him to the police station, to protect him from being assaulted by the street gangs.

I gave Chief a cigarette and asked, “Chief, why don’t we send Generous Turtle to Rong Hua mental hospital?”

“We tried, but the hospital is full and he is normal most of the time.”

Chief then asked me about the case. I told him I hoped to have a clear conclusion by the end of the week.

“You’ve got to move fast. We need this,” Chief said.

“What do you mean?”

He showed me a document. In the wake of rising crime, Beijing had initiated another round of Yan Da, and this time, the Shanghai government decided that because the district police stations maintained such close relationships with local communities they could no longer be trusted. Unsatisfied with the result of the previous crime sweep, the party secretary of the city had decided to give quotas to each police station.

“We need three capital punishment cases,” Chief said. “And we already have two: one, a bank robbery, and the other, embezzlement of state money.”

“What will the third one be?” I asked.

“That could be yours, Case No. 1984-16,” he said.

I laughed. “Sleeping with a serviceman’s slut of a wife? You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Young man, you have never participated in a Yan Da. During this period, any criminal will be severely punished, and adultery with a serviceman’s wife is just as bad as treason.”

“Treason?” I thought I had misheard him.

“Of course. If we allow the criminals to get away with fooling around with our soldiers’ wives, how can we ask those brave men to dedicate their lives to our national security? We are surrounded by hostile forces.”

“But death—”

“That’s what Yan Da is about. We are sending a message to the criminals and would-be criminals that crime of any sort is not tolerated. To tell you the truth, I don’t like the criminal code specifying the years of punishment for each crime. Gangsters now know how many years they are going to spend if they rob a store or seduce a young girl. This Yan Da is to show them that they can be punished by the harshest term possible.”

Chief put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Little Snake, I asked for you, because I am an old friend of your family.” I didn’t like the smell of cigarettes on his breath. I backed away a little. He must have sensed that I was uneasy, so he continued. “I have always treated you like my son. Now, I am 50 years old and nearing the end of my career. I will either be promoted or retire. The City Police Bureau is thinking of filling a vacancy for the director of community security. I have been thinking that if I leave, I will recommend that you become the deputy chief here, while I still keep my title, until you get enough experience to replace me.” His sharp eyes bored into mine. “What do you think of that, Little Snake?”

“I am...am flattered,” I said. “I am too young.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “We need some young blood. You have the highest academic degree in this station. You are a Communist Party member, and a veteran. But we need to fill the quota, do you understand?”

He gave me his hand. I shook it with all the enthusiasm I could muster.

“Let me think about it,” I said....