The letter arrived on a Friday afternoon, tucked between two ordinary pieces of household correspondence as though it hoped not to be noticed.
It was not addressed to Wei Zhengnan. It was addressed to me.
That was the first unusual thing.
The second was the handwriting — formal but careful, the kind produced by someone who wanted to appear official without being traceable to an office. There was no return address. The content was brief. It noted that the complaint recently filed with the Ministry review board was "based on documents of uncertain provenance" and that the household's registration had been "expedited under conditions that may warrant review." It expressed the hope that "all parties would consider the costs of continued involvement before proceeding."
I read it twice.
Then I brought it to Wei Zhengnan.
He read it once. Set it down. Looked at me.
"He knows," he said.
"He knows," I confirmed.
