Novelist A Yi’s satirical take on how county police “solved” a case of theft at a local chemical plant
Thirteen years on, that case at the Aocheng Chemical Plant still bothers me, poking and prodding somewhere deep down inside of me, like a riddle that I’ll never figure out. It was during a bright midday at the plant. The workers carried their lunch boxes out to the edge of the fissured concrete lot. They talked amongst themselves: Everything was fine last night, and today, it’s gone. When Sergeant Zhao Dezhong arrived from Aocheng Police Station with two cadets in tow—Xiao Li and I—we saw a heavy-duty cart sitting on the ground, with its two wheels missing. It felt incredibly unjust, like seeing a disabled man whose prosthetic limbs had been swiped from him.