by Qiu Xiaolong
‘Do you think her “poetry talk” – night after night with one man or another – was something tolerable to the people intimately close to her – such as Wen or Zi’an?’
‘That’s a good question, Your Honor. The motive of intense jealousy. But both Wen and Zi’an have alibis, I happen to know. For the last two or three months, Wen has been sick and bedridden at home, hundreds of miles away. It would have been out of the question for him to travel all the way here. As for Zi’an, he’s having a good time in a promising official position in another province, along with his wife and a baby on the way. I don’t see how either of them could have chosen to set a trap against Xuanji at the moment.’
‘You surely have a point, Han Shan.’
‘Besides, it was Wen who pushed her into Zi’an’s arms, and then it was Zi’an who pushed her into others’ arms, so to speak. According to people in the circle, neither Wen nor Zi’an had been embarrassed or upset by her being a fashionably notorious courtesan here. And the three of them have kept on writing romantic poems for one another. No, I cannot see the motive in either of them.’
‘It is so helpful to talk to you, Han Shan, with all your information in the circle of poets. I, too, do not believe they would have done that, but it could have taken me much longer to rule out that possibility. I have to read more of their poems, I think.’
‘Wen has recently composed a nice ci poem for her,’ Han Shan said. ‘It would be fantastic for you to include the poem in the collection. You may add a note about the date of its composition. I’ll find it for you. But back to the murder case at the present moment: is such a conspiracy theory backed up by any concrete evidence?’
‘No, nothing concrete. But there seem to be too many coincidences. That guest of hers, for instance, who walked straight out to the spot in the backyard where the body of the maid was buried, still fresh and recognizable underneath the thin layer of soil. And that very guest who happened to know the people at Mayor Pei’s office, who immediately dispatched runners to investigate in the nunnery. Also, the hue and cry about the flies circling the backyard corner was not even mentioned once in the case report regarding the crime scene.’
‘But all this is just circumstantial, isn’t it? As for the flies, they could have flown away by the time the runners went to the backyard.’ Han Shan resumed after a short pause, ‘Besides, for a set-up scenario like that, it would not have worked unless all the conditions were met. Xuanji had to stay inside the temple without being aware of anything outside during the time period when Ning was killed and buried; and that particular guest had to come out to the very spot in the backyard the next day, and in the company of other guests – for the hue and cry to reach the mayor who then had to take immediate action. In other words, for such an elaborate plot, the conspirator had to be someone who was resourceful and desperate.’
‘That’s true, but one of those big bugs rejected by her could have been sufficiently resourceful and desperate.’
‘Well, it sounds like an echo of what Nameless said about Mayor Pei, Judge Dee. Still, I want to say something about Pei. He had told me about his invitation to Xuanji long before the murder case.’
‘What did he say to you – and when?’
‘It was when I first came to stay at the temple here. A couple of months ago. Mayor Pei paid me a visit, saying he wanted to have a party for poets and writers at his official residence. Xuanji was also on the invitation list because he thought she had been treated badly by a distant cousin of his – none other than Zi’an’s wife. He wanted to do something for her as a way of compensation, but she flatly declined the invitation. So it had nothing whatever to do with any romantic inclination. Gossip and misinterpretations of this kind of thing could have spread, however, like uncontrollable wild weeds.
‘And then, as Mayor Pei happened to be the one in charge of the trial, it’s natural for people like Nameless to speculate. But was there anything improper in the way Mayor Pei treated her during the trial? I cannot tell, but you may judge objectively as an experienced judge yourself.’
‘Conventionally, if a suspect does not confess,’ Judge Dee said, shaking his head slightly, ‘the mayor or magistrate is justified to have him or her beaten for twenty or thirty blows in the courtroom. In her case, some consideration could have been shown for a young female celebrity like Xuanji. Such humiliation in public. But I don’t see how Mayor Pei could fit into a plot or retaliation scenario. With her rejection of his party invitation known to quite a number of people, it would be easy for them to accuse him of persecuting her for an undisclosed reason. He should have known better. Even after she pleaded guilty in prison, some people would still proclaim that “she was tortured into confession.” It’s a tight spot for him. No matter how unconvincing her confession sounded, he could hardly afford to give her another beating in public for the reasons we’ve just discussed.’
‘But how do you think he is going to proceed?’
‘I don’t know. The scenario of Xuanji being the murderer is not compelling, either. I simply cannot see her motive for the murder of a maidservant. Nor did she have the physical strength for it.’
‘On that I agree with you, Judge Dee. How could a willowy girl like Xuanji have killed and buried someone all by herself? With those questions you’ve mentioned, it may be difficult to close the case simply on the basis of her confession.’
‘Under normal circumstance, the moment a confession was made, the case would have been submitted to the higher authorities for approval, and the criminal would then be punished accordingly. But with her being such a celebrity, and with men of letters making a petition for her …’
‘So that’s how Minister Wu came to you?’
‘Wu wants a quick conclusion to the case, I suppose, but at the same time, it has to be one acceptable to the people. That could mean, among other things, Wu believes there may be something or somebody else involved in the case.’
‘But why should people like Minister Wu have been so anxious about it?’
‘That I don’t know. There are more things in heaven and earth, Han Shan, than are dreamed of in your poetry.’
‘That’s truly beyond me, Judge Dee. Just one more question. What do you think of those tall tales about the black fox spirit?’
‘Again, I don’t know. I can hardly see its connection to the murder case. At least not for the moment. Confucius says, “A gentleman doesn’t talk about ghosts and spirits.” But in the absence of any other possible clue, I may as well take a look into that, too.
‘Now, one of the first questions a judge has to ask himself is “Who could have benefited from the murder?” Surely not a black fox spirit – especially if the spirit and Xuanji are one and the same. But I also have a question for you, Han Shan. Is there anything else unusual you have seen or heard in connection to the nunnery?’
‘It’s a Buddhist temple here, and the nunnery is a Daoist one. I’ve never been to the nunnery, not a single time, even though it’s not too far away. Now you mention it, I think I may have heard of something. According to a monk here, there were a couple of mysterious men seen moving around in the vicinity of the nunnery, and they prevented neighbors from coming close to it.’
‘Was that before the murder case or after?’
‘Before, but for any details, you may need to talk to Mayor Pei. Sorry, I cannot help you any more than that.’
‘The discussion with you has already helped such a lot, Han Shan.’
‘Last night, I was rereading Diamond Sutra. What an enlightening book indeed! Everything under the sun cannot but be appearance. We cannot see through the appearance because we put too much of ourselves into it. The same can probably be said about your investigation. About the black fox spirit, too. I’ll get a copy for you if you have not read it.’
‘That will be fantastic. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart, Han Shan.’
Stepping out of the village, Yang found himself being an investigation assistant who would not r
est content with the black fox spirit scenario. Nor was it likely, he knew, for his master to swallow such an explanation. As a long-time servant to Judge Dee, he believed he had to do something more.
So he turned back and managed to locate the ‘neighborhood coordinator office’ at the roadside near the entrance of the village. A middle-aged man surnamed Bao with a receding hairline and a large beard was in charge of the small office. A neighborhood coordinator was a nobody in the Tang official system, though not without some real controlling and surveilling power over people in the neighborhood, and a small stipend from the mayor’s office as well.
Yang approached Bao with a modified pretext that he was a servant to a wealthy businessman dabbling in the collection of calligraphy and paintings, and that he was running around in search of anything Xuanji might have left behind that could be potentially valuable. It took him little time to succeed in inviting Bao out for a cup at a shabby eatery by the roadside.
They turned out to be the only customers there at that time of the day. Sitting at a rough wooden table with the village in view, Yang poured out a cup of yellow rice wine for Bao and handed him a tiny piece of silver.
‘In our line of business, background information can turn out to be extremely helpful. A piece of junk Xuanji left behind somewhere may prove to be worth a huge fortune, considering those wealthy patrons of hers. That’s why what you can tell me matters such a lot. Things like what she did the day the body of the maid was discovered in the backyard, or the day before …’
‘Surely you’re a very capable servant for your master, Yang. And I am the very man for your inquiry; that much I can assure you,’ Bao said, pocketing the small piece of silver readily. ‘In fact, Mayor Pei asked me about those things, too, though I don’t know anything about his interests in the collection of brush pen calligraphy and paintings. So I have done quite an extensive investigation of it.’
‘Really! That’s fantastic. But for me, it’s just an investigation for business.’
‘Well, investigation is investigation. I like your way of trying your best to do a good job of it,’ Bao said, taking up a piece of fried fish fillet in yellow wine sauce. ‘It’s excellent wine. To your business successes!’
After three cups of the mellow yet strong rice wine, Bao became a bit tipsy; his tongue was loosened, and his face animated and flushed like the crest of a cock when it’s ready to jump into the fighting ring.
‘Xuanji had good stuff from those rich and powerful men dancing around her. As neighborhood watchers, we may not be high on the social ladder, but we have the important responsibility to surveil all the time, so we may report anything and everything to the higher authorities. Our job is truly crucial to the maintenance of the political stability of the Great Tang Empire. No one in the neighborhood can escape our watchful eyes. And I can assure you, Yang, she got much more from those rich and powerful visitors than mere calligraphies or paintings. How? I don’t think you need me to tell you.’
‘The rich and powerful visitors must have been buzzing around her like flies smelling and sucking blood, I guess.’
‘What an insightful, ironical metaphor indeed! She was caught because of the flies whirling around the blood in the nunnery backyard. Karma! So that’s quite a story for another cup, right?’ Bao said with increasing gusto, crunching the soft-boiled chicken foot, and reaching out to fill his cup again. ‘In short, she’s a promiscuous slut. Shamelessly carrying on with one big bug after another, she took it for granted that they would continue to shower money and jewels and antiques – and protection, too – on her forever.’
‘She must have lost her mind.’
‘Fucked out of her mind, I tell you! Apart from those fly-like visitors, the people in the neighborhood have been so fed up with her wild, infamous ways, but it was not merely a disgrace to the village. It could also lead to political disaster for the whole country.’
‘What do you mean, Bao?’
‘According to a governmental document available to neighborhood coordinators at my level, quite a number of old-fashioned scholars in the capital saw her as a representative of the current moral decline of the Tang Empire. Whatever they could not have said against the empress in the open, they said out loud and clear through the Xuanji case.’
‘Yes, these things could have been complicated in the Tang Empire. But no politics over the cups, Bao. The steamed live carp is not bad. It tastes so tender and fresh. Have a piece more. Now let me ask you a different question. Why should Xuanji have killed the maid?’
‘Because she’s so bewitched. And, more likely than not, the maid was bewitched, too. About ten days ago, a villager saw a young woman kneeling stark naked in front of the nunnery, her head hung low, her face covered in long black hair, and her bare back glistening with sweat and crisscrossed welts,’ Bao went on, taking another large gulp, licking his lips voraciously, and squinting his eyes as if surveilling the very scene. ‘When he tried to take a better look, however, it turned out to be a black fox kneeling there, kowtowing to the full bright moon like crazy, and vanishing into the air the next moment.’
Once again, the evil of the black fox spirit came to serve as the infallible interpretation of the bizarre murder case. Yang smothered a sigh, stuffing into his mouth a large fatty chunk of pork braised in red soy sauce.
‘The villager must have heard so many fox spirit stories that he perhaps imagined things in the depth of the night,’ Yang said, waving his hand in dismissal of the hallucination as he changed the subject. ‘By the way, please tell me something about Wei. People told me he may have things – valuable things – from Xuanji. I’m just wondering whether it would be worth my while to contact him.’
‘Wow, you have heard of Wei, too! Let me tell you what. He’s an impossible gigolo, and he sucked her dry like a leech. In fact, the place he stays in was also bought with her money, a wooden hut fairly close to the nunnery, so he could have easily sneaked over to her at night. People say she’s simply bewitched by him.’
‘You mean he is the black fox spirit?’
‘Who knows? There are both male and female fox spirits in this red-dust world of ours. No one can tell for sure. I don’t know too much about Wei, but if you want, you may talk to a flower girl surnamed Zhang or Zhan. She’s a sort of a confidante for Xuanji. Her flower garden is located near the southern end of the village. She sent flowers to Xuanji regularly for her parties, and Xuanji or Wei occasionally went to her flower garden to pick up the orders, too. She surely can tell you much more about him. And about her as well. Most of the neighbors here did not want to mix with Xuanji or Wei, but that flower girl was an exception. Xuanji’s a very valuable customer for her.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I don’t have her address, but you don’t have to worry about it. You just need to ask the village people there for the flower girl. She’s just another young fox spirit like Xuanji.’
‘How?’
‘Young girls like her should not have mixed with people in public. In the time-honored Confucian tradition, they should stay at home and wait for an arranged marriage. She lost her parents when she was just a teenager, and she turned into a flower girl. Indeed, they are young fox spirits of the same-colored hair.’
Enough of hearsay about the fox spirits for one meal, Yang contemplated, and he failed to see anything wrong with a young girl struggling to support herself. He raised the last question over the cup. ‘Just one more question. Xuanji’s a renowned poetess. How can I obtain a copy of her poems? It’s for my master, who is an impossible bookworm.’
‘You may try your luck at the local temple market fair, but it’s still more than a month away – I mean the next market fair. For the moment, though,’ Bao said with a wine-sodden hiccup, ‘you may contact a typesetter/printer surnamed Mo in the town, who did a limited edition for her, I’ve heard. For reasons beyond me, the mayor also asked me about her poetry collections. There must be a lot of bookworms under the Tang Dynasty sun.’
‘That would be very helpful – the address of the typesetter, I mean.’
‘Here it is. It’s not too far away.’
‘Thank you so much, Bao. I’m afraid I have to run a couple more errands for my master, but you can take your time finishing the wine.’
Yang copied Mo’s address, paid the bill, and left the eatery with the neighborhood coordinator still burying his head in the leftovers on the table.
Again, Yang hurried back to the town, like tumbleweed rolling in the wind, and he started to feel weary with the trips back and forth between the village and the town.
Luckily, it was not too much effort to find Mo, the typesetter/printer/publisher in question.
Mo was a shrewd-looking businessman in his early sixties, who did not even ask Yang why he wanted a copy of Xuanji’s poems.
‘Yes, I did a limited edition for her,’ Mo said. ‘It’s titled Night Poetry Talk, but she took away all the copies. No more than one hundred of them.’
‘Such a small number?’
‘It’s for her men only – I mean, those special visitors to the nunnery – so the poems were written with their names mentioned in the titles, in the texts, or in the notes about the occasions of those poems. Most of the poems in the edition are fairly amorous. Not necessarily that explicit, to be fair to her. She gave them her signed copies as souvenirs – something for them to brag and boast about, and for those who had not yet had poems dedicated to them, they would hope that she might also come to write for them like that in the future. As a result, they went on showering money or gifts on her for the unique favor. After all, poetry is for thousands of autumns, and they believed their names would last forever in her lines. In the meantime, it further spread the name of her poetry parties in the nunnery. A very clever practice, I have to say, and it’s worth all the money she spent on printing.’
‘I see. But you may have a way of getting hold of a copy for me, I believe. I’ll pay you double the price for it.’
‘It’s not for sale,’ Mo said, waving his hand, and eying Yang with a suggestion of suspicion. ‘She took all of them, as I have just told you. It may only be a matter of time, however, before we have a reprint at the conclusion of the sensational case. A much larger print run, perhaps with some profit for me. Then I will be able to sell you a copy.’