The black Ford turned out of the alley and headed along the streets of the southern city toward the Qinhuai River.
Jiangning was far quieter at night than during the day. There were fewer pedestrians on the streets, and more than half the shops had closed. Only a few restaurants and teahouses still had their lights on.
Dim streetlamps hung from the utility poles by the roadside, their murky yellow light reaching only a short distance.
After driving for about an hour, they caught sight of the Qinhuai River from afar.
Both banks of the river blazed with lights. Strings of red lanterns hung beneath the eaves of the pavilions, reflected on the water and gently swaying with the ripples.
Several painted pleasure boats drifted slowly across the river. The sounds of strings and woodwinds, along with women's laughter, floated faintly through the night breeze and scattered away.
Four Joy Hall stood on the north bank of the Qinhuai River. It was a three-story wooden pavilion with upturned eaves and sweeping corners. Two enormous red lanterns hung at its entrance, and the plaque between them bore three golden characters: "Four Joy Hall."
The brushwork was vigorous and powerful, clearly the work of a celebrated master.
Several black automobiles were parked outside, along with a few rickshaws waiting for customers. The pullers squatted at the foot of the wall, smoking and chatting.
Old Liu brought the car to a steady stop. Li Jinrong pushed open the door and got out, straightened his collar, opened his folding fan, and waved it leisurely twice.
"Come on. It's my treat today, so don't go easy on my wallet."
Chen Mo got out of the car with both hands in his trouser pockets and raised his head to glance at Four Joy Hall's signboard.
Wanhua