by Mo Yan
“He butchers pigs and dogs,” the swine replied.
Again His Excellency laughed. “He sounds qualified. All right, then, in battle one relies on his brothers; in a fight, only father and son will do. Permission granted.” The swine remained kneeling on the floor.
“What else do you have to say?” Excellency Yuan asked.
“Excellency,” the swine said, “carrying out the sandalwood death will require a thick post with a crossbar on top of a high wooden platform, with an access plank on one side.”
“Make a drawing and give it to the County Magistrate for construction,” Yuan said.
The swine said, “I will also require two stakes made of the finest sandalwood and shaved down like spikes. Your humble servant will personally do the work.”
“The County Magistrate will see to that,” Excellency Yuan said.
Then the swine said, “I will also require two hundred jin of refined sesame oil.”
Excellency Yuan laughed. “Are you planning to fry Sun Bing to go with fine spirits?”
“Excellency,” the swine said, “after the stakes are properly carved, they must steep in sesame oil all day and all night if they are to slip through the body without soaking up blood.”
“Have Gaomi County take care of everything,” Yuan said. “Is there anything else? Now is the time to give me the complete list.”
The swine said, “I will also require ten strips of leather, a wooden hammer, a rooster with white feathers, two red felt caps, two pairs of high-top boots, two sets of black clothing, two red satin sashes, two bull’s-ear daggers, plus a hundred jin of white rice, a hundred jin of wheat flour, a hundred chicken eggs, twenty jin each of pork and beef, half a jin of top-quality ginseng, a medicinal pot, three hundred jin of kindling, two buckets, a water vat, and two woks, one large and one small.”
“What do you need ginseng for?” Excellency Yuan asked.
The swine said, “Hear me out, Excellency. The subject’s stomach will not be affected by the insertion of the stake, but there will be a significant loss of blood, and keeping him alive will require a daily infusion of ginseng. That is the only way your humble servant can ensure that the subject will last five days.”
Excellency Yuan said, “Can you guarantee that he will not die for at least five days with the infusion of ginseng?”
“Your humble servant guarantees it,” the swine replied emphatically.
Excellency Yuan said, “Gaomi County, go make a list and have it filled without delay!”
The swine would still not rise.
“Rise,” Excellency Yuan said.
But the swine kept knocking his head on the floor.
“That’s enough,” Excellency Yuan said. “I don’t want you to break that dog head of yours. Now listen carefully. If you satisfactorily carry out this assignment, I will reward you, father and son, with one hundred ounces of silver each. But if something goes wrong, I will have you both speared with sandalwood stakes and hung on posts until you are desiccated corpses!”
With one last resounding kowtow, the swine said, “Thank you, Excellency.”
“Gaomi County,” Excellency Yuan said to me, “the same goes for you!”
I said, “Your humble servant will spare no effort.”
Yuan stood up and, together with von Ketteler, started out of the hall. But he had taken only a few steps when he turned back, as if he’d forgotten something. “Gaomi County,” he said nonchalantly, “I hear you have brought Liu Peicun’s son here from Sichuan and given him an official position. Is that true?”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” I replied frankly. “Liu Peicun was from Fushun County in Sichuan Province, where I was once posted. When his widow and family returned to Fushun with his coffin, I paid my respects as someone who was born in the same year as he and made a gift to the family of ten ounces of silver. Not long after that, his grieving widow passed away, but not before turning her son, Liu Pu, over to my care. When I saw how intelligent and conscientious he was, I gave him a job in the county yamen.”
“Gaomi County, you are a straightforward man of integrity,” His Excellency said somewhat enigmatically, “not someone who curries favor with the powerful, a man with a big heart. But you show a lack of judgment.”
I laid my head against the floor and said, “Thank you, Excellency, for your instruction.”
“Zhao Jia,” Excellency Yuan said, “you are the sworn enemy of Liu Pu for killing his father!”
The swine’s clever response was, “I was carrying out Her Royal Highness’s decree.”
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4
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Dear wife, why aren’t you pouring? Pour! Fill them up! Let’s drink. You are so pale. Are you crying? Don’t cry, dear wife, I’ve already decided what to do. I’ll make sure those hundred ounces of silver never reach that swine and that von Ketteler’s plot falls through. And I will stop Yuan Shikai from getting his wish. Yuan saw to it that my brother, my own flesh and blood, was sliced to shreds. Cruel! Barbaric! Savage! Yuan Shikai has honey on his lips but murder in his heart. A dagger is hidden in his smile, and I know that he will not lightly spare me. Once he has disposed of Sun Bing, he will come for your husband. Since death is inevitable, one way or the other, dear wife, why not do it right! In times like this, only the dead are men; the living are dogs. Dear wife, you and I have been husband and wife for more than ten years, and even though we have been denied a child, we treat each other with respect in domestic harmony. I want you to leave for Hunan tomorrow morning. Your transportation has already been arranged. There you will find ten acres of paddy land, a five-room house, and savings of three hundred ounces of silver, enough for you for the rest of your life if you live frugally. After you have left, there will be nothing for me to worry about. Please, dear wife, do not cry. It breaks my heart. We are living in chaotic times, hell on earth for officials and commoners alike. It is better to be a dog in peace than a human being in times of chaos. Dear wife, when you are back home in Hunan, adopt one of Second Brother’s sons. He will take care of you in your old age and see to your funeral. I have written a letter to that effect, and they will not object. When a bird is about to die, its cry is sorrowful; when a man is about to die, there is kindness in his words. Do not talk like that, dear wife, for if you were to die, who would burn incense and spirit money for me? You must leave, for if you were to remain here, my willpower would suffer.
Dear wife, I have a confession to make to you. I have wanted to own up to this for a long time, but you probably already know. For the last three years, I have carried on a liaison with Meiniang, Sun Bing’s daughter and the daughter-in-law of Zhao Jia. She is now pregnant with my child. Dear wife, in light of more than a decade of marriage, I ask that if the child is a boy, you will find a way to have him brought to Hunan with you. If it is a girl, let that be the end of it. Consider this my last will and testament, dear wife, and an expression of Qian Ding’s enduring gratitude.
BOOK TWO
Belly of the Pig
CHAPTER FIVE
Battle of the Beards
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Qian Ding, newly appointed Magistrate of Gaomi County, had a spectacular beard that cascaded from his chin down across his chest. At his first official audience, this beard served to warn the wily clerks in the six boards and three ranks of devilishly crafty yayi against insubordination. His predecessor, a man with protruding lips and the chin of an ape, from which had sprouted a few dozen ratty whiskers, had bought his position. The man had been ignorant and incompetent, his only skill the accumulation of riches. He’d sat in the audience hall pulling his ears and scratching his cheeks like a macaque monkey. His wretched appearance and shameless immorality had created a psychological benchmark for his successor, Qian Ding. The gathered petty officials witnessed something fresh and appealing in the dignified demeanor of the new County Magistrate, and Qian Ding was struck by the light of amicability in th
e eyes of the men arrayed in front of him.
Qian had passed the Imperial Examination with distinction, achieving one of the highest rankings, in 1883, the eighth year of the Qing Guangxu Emperor’s reign, sharing honors with Liu Guangdi, one of the renowned Six Gentlemen of the Wuxu Reform Movement. Liu was the thirty-seventh successful candidate of the Second Rank, Qian the thirty-eighth. After passing the examination, he spent two years in the capital in a minor government office, then bribed his way into a provincial assignment. He had served as Magistrate before, first in Guangdong’s Dianbai County, and then in Sichuan’s Fushun County, the latter being the birthplace of Liu Guangdi. Both Dianbai and Fushun were remote, inaccessible locales with barren mountains and untamed rivers; the people led such impoverished, wretched lives that even had he aspired to be a corrupt official, there was no grease to skim. And so, for his third posting, he came to Gaomi, where access was convenient and riches abounded. While it was a lateral appointment, in his eyes it was a promotion. A man of spirited aspirations and robust vitality, he had a radiantly ruddy face, eyebrows like sleeping silkworms, and a gaze that had the quality of lacquer; every strand in his beard was as thick as horsehair and long enough to touch the desktop behind which he sat. An impressive beard represented half of what it took to gain credibility among the governed. His colleagues were fond of teasing him: “Elder Brother Qian,” they would say, “if the Old Buddha Herself were to lay eyes on you, at the very least you would be posted as a Circuit Magistrate.” Unfortunately, there had been no opportunity to display his dignified demeanor in the Imperial presence, and as he sat at his mirror combing out his beard, he could only sigh and lament, “What a shame that this face, with its dignified appearance, and this fine, ethereal beard are ill regarded at Court!”
On the long journey from Sichuan to take up his new post in Shandong, he had stopped at a small temple on the Yellow River in Shaanxi to draw a divination lot, and was rewarded with great good tidings. The inscribed poem read: “Should the bream reach the western Yangtze, thunder will rend the sky.” This tally swept away the deep-seated depression that had accompanied his career failures, and instilled in him confidence and high hopes. Upon his arrival in the county, despite being fatigued and covered with dust after a long journey, not to mention suffering from symptoms of a minor cold, he set right to work. After receiving the symbols of office from his predecessor, he summoned his subordinates to the audience hall, where he spoke to them for the first time. Splendid words flowing from a cheerful frame of mind gushed from his mouth. His predecessor had been a simple-minded dolt who could not string three simple sentences together. He, on the other hand, had a full-throated, richly seductive voice that at this moment was enhanced by a slightly nasal tone caused by the cold. The looks in the eyes of the listeners arrayed below him signaled success. When his speech was finished, he stroked his impressive beard with his thumb and forefinger and announced an end to the formal audience. His gaze then swept across the faces of the gathered functionaries, each of whom felt that the honorable Magistrate was looking only at him. The enigmatic look in those eyes seemed to include equal parts warning and encouragement. He then stood, turned, and walked out of the hall, a neat, orderly departure, like a breath of fresh air.
Soon afterward, at a banquet for local worthies, his handsome demeanor and impressive beard were once again the focus of attention for all who were present. The nasal obstruction had cleared up, and Gaomi County’s local specialty, aged millet spirits, and fatty dog meat—the spirits relaxed his muscles and joints and enhanced the flow of blood, while the fatty dog meat improved his looks—made his face glow with conspicuous health and lent increased elegance to his beard. He offered a toast in a cadenced voice, announcing to his elite guests that he was determined to use his office to enrich the lives of the local population. His speech was interrupted frequently by thunderous applause and shouts of approval, and when he had finished, the ovation lasted until the incense sticks had burned halfway down. He then raised his glass to all the skullcaps and goatees at the table. The men’s legs trembled when they stood; their hands shook and their lips quaked as they emptied their glasses. The Magistrate then called their attention to one of the dishes—a head of cabbage a vivid emerald green that gave no sign of being cooked. None of the guests dared touch the spectacular dish with his chopsticks for fear of making a fool of himself. “Worthy gentlemen,” the Magistrate said, “not only is this cabbage fully cooked, it has been stuffed with more than a dozen rare delicacies.” He touched the seemingly unblemished head gently with his chopsticks, and it opened like a flower bud, to reveal a rich, pulpy interior and fill the room with an aroma of great refinement. Most of the honored guests—unsophisticated locals and voracious meat and fish eaters—were ignorant of the more poetic forms of cuisine. But urged on by their illustrious host, they reached out, snagged cabbage leaves with their chopsticks, and put them into their mouths. Approving headshakes and words of praise followed. Elder Xiong, Magistrate Qian’s revenue clerk, who had joined him at the table, wasted no time in introducing the Magistrate’s wife, Gaomi County’s First Lady, to the honored guests: she was the maternal granddaughter of Zeng Guofan—given the posthumous title and name of Lord Wenzheng. She had personally prepared the dish, Emerald Cabbage, the recipe having been passed down by her grandfather, who had created it with his master chef when he served in the capital as Vice President of the Board of Rites. Together they had tried several variants before reaching the perfection they were enjoying today. It embodied the wisdom of a generation of renowned officials. The revered Lord Wenzheng, who had mastered both the pen and the sword, had also been a chef par excellence, second to none. Xiong’s introduction was greeted with even greater applause; tears spilling from the eyes of aging worthies sluiced down through the wrinkles in their cheeks. Snivel hung from the strands of their feeble goatees.
After all around the table had emptied three glasses, the local worthies approached the Magistrate, one at a time, to toast his arrival and sing his praises, each in his own way. And while their comments differed in style if not in elegance, the one constant was a mention of the revered one’s beard. One intoned, “Our esteemed Magistrate is a reincarnation of Guan Yu, a rebirth of Wu Zixu.” Another pronounced that Zhuge Liang had returned in the person of the esteemed Magistrate; the Deva King had descended from heaven. Now, while Qian Ding could tolerate a great deal, this group of toadies was more than he could endure. He could not, of course, refuse to be toasted and was obliged to empty his glass each time, and the more he drank, the further he moved away from his official airs. He chatted energetically, he talked and laughed merrily, he shuffled and gestured, his head was turned by the effusive praise, and he began to display his unrestrained nature as he moved steadily closer to the people.
That day he drank himself into a stupor; his worthy guests, too, lay passed out around the table. It was a banquet that rocked Gaomi County to its core and became a popular topic of conversation far and wide. The Emerald Cabbage gained almost mythical qualities on the people’s tongues. People said that it was a mysterious viand that could not be separated until Magistrate Qian touched it with his chopsticks, at which time it opened like a white lily, with dozens of petals, each tipped with a glistening pearl.
Word quickly spread that the new Magistrate was the grandson-in-law of Lord Wenzheng. Endowed with an imposing presence, he sported a beard worthy of Guan Yu himself. Not only was the Magistrate the epitome of dignity, but his name had appeared high on the list of successful candidates at the Imperial Examination, and he thus joined the circle of Imperial attendants. Brimming with talent, he was a master of eloquence. With an unmatched capacity for spirits, even drunk he retained his poise, like a jade tree standing tall before a wind or a mountain withstanding a spring deluge. Then there was the Magistrate’s wife, descendant of an illustrious family, a woman of matchless beauty and incomparable virtue. Their arrival in Gaomi County promised immense blessings for the people.
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2
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Northeast Gaomi Township was home to the leader of the local Maoqiang troupe, Sun Bing, a man who was also endowed with a splendid beard. Maoqiang, otherwise known as Cat Opera, is an operatic genre created and developed in Northeast Gaomi Township. The arias are exquisite, the staging unique, the ambience magical; in short, it is the ideal portrayal of life in the township. Sun Bing was both a reformer and an inheritor of the Maoqiang tradition, a man who enjoyed high prestige among his peers. As a performer of the old-man role, playing respected old men, he was never in need of a stage beard, since none could match the natural appeal of his own. As luck would have it, upon the birth of his grandson, the township’s richest man, Master Liu, hosted a celebration banquet, to which Sun Bing was invited. Also in attendance was a yamen clerk by the name of Li Wu, who sat at the head of a table in a pompous demonstration of his stature, and proceeded to sing the praises of the County Magistrate, from his eloquence to his every action, from his interests to his favorite activities. But the climactic note was sounded in his tribute to the Magistrate’s impressive beard.
Now, even though Li Wu was on leave from his post, on this occasion he was dressed in full formal attire, minus only his baton of authority. Gesticulating dramatically and blustering nonstop, he so intimidated the other guests, all decent, simple men, that they could only gape in stupefaction, the meal in front of them forgotten. With ears pricked, they listened wide-eyed to the man’s voluble outbursts as he slung slobber into the air. Sun Bing, a man of the world, had been to many places and seen many things, and had Li Wu not been present, Sun would have been the center of attention. But Li was present, and since everyone knew that he was in attendance to the County Magistrate, Sun was ignored. He could only drink alone to drown his melancholy, casting disdainful looks and snorts of derision in the direction of the despicable lackey. No one noticed, and in the eyes of Li Wu, Sun might as well not have been at the table at all, so intent was he on elaborately extolling the virtues of the Magistrate’s beard.