by Mo Yan
“I said get out of my sight! Laoye, Shaoye, what difference does it make? What could his death possibly mean to a commoner?” Despite her tone of voice, tears continued to flow.
“Mistress Sun,” Chunsheng said, “you might fool others, but not me. You and the Magistrate are so close you might as well be one person. Break the bone, and there’s still meat attached; tug on the ear, and the cheek twitches. But enough of that. Don’t pull back on the reins now. Get ready and come with me.”
“I will not step foot in that place as long as your First Lady is there.”
“But, Mistress Sun, she has ordered me to come for you.”
“Chunsheng, don’t treat me like a circus monkey. How could I face someone who did what she did to me?”
“Apparently, Mistress Sun, someone has done something terrible.”
“Do you really not know, or are you just pretending?” Meiniang asked in anger. “They used a whip on me in that yamen of yours!”
“What are you saying, Mistress Sun?” Chunsheng was clearly shocked. “Who would dare use a whip on you in the yamen? We who work there see you as the Second Lady. We try our best to get on your good side. Who in his right mind would dare to even threaten you with a whip, let alone use it?”
“That First Lady of yours, that’s who. She had someone give me fifty lashes!”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for proof,” Chunsheng said as he moved to look under her clothes.
Sun Meiniang knocked his hand away. “Don’t get fresh with me,” she said. “Aren’t you worried the Magistrate would chop off your grubby paw?”
“You see what I mean, Mistress Sun, you do have feelings for him. All I did was stick out my hand, and you stopped me by bringing up his name. The truth is, the Magistrate is seriously ill this time, and the First Lady has no choice but to invite you, our Living Bodhisattva, to work your magic. Think for a minute—would she be doing this if there were any other path open to her? Even if she did order someone to use a whip on you, why is this so surprising? Sending me for you is an admission of defeat. This hill is the excuse you need to ride the donkey, so what are you waiting for? If your ministrations speed up the Magistrate’s recovery and set him on the road to health, even the First Lady will praise you for having performed a great service. What was once hidden will be out in the open; the private will be made public. That, Mistress Sun, will usher in good times for you. But it is your decision. Are you coming or aren’t you?”
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8
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Dog meat basket in hand, Sun Meiniang pushed open the door to the Western Parlor and spotted a slightly pock-scarred woman with dark skin and a downturned mouth seated in an armchair. Meiniang’s heated body abruptly turned icy cold, and the elation with which she had arrived was suddenly coated with frost. Dimly she sensed that she had fallen into another trap, one also engineered by the Magistrate’s wife. She was, however, the daughter of an actor, well acquainted with all sorts of poses; and she was, after all, the wife of a butcher, equally well acquainted with the glint of a knife and the sight of blood; and she was, in the end, the Magistrate’s lover, and thus familiar with the ways of officials. All that made it possible for her to bring her tangled emotions under control, brace herself, and match stratagems with the Magistrate’s wife. Two women, two pairs of eyes meeting, neither about to back down. As their gazes fought for supremacy, their hearts carried on a resounding dialogue.
Magistrate’s wife: Are you aware that I come from an old and distinguished family?
Sun Meiniang: It is clear to anyone with eyes that I am a great beauty.
Magistrate’s wife: I am his legal and formal wife.
Sun Meiniang: I am his most intimate soul mate.
Magistrate’s wife: You are nothing but a remedy for my sick husband, no different than a canine gallstone or bezoars of ox.
Sun Meiniang: You are, in fact, the Magistrate’s backroom ornament, a marionette, a clay sculpture.
Magistrate’s wife: All your bewitching talents and seductive airs can have little effect on my position here.
Sun Meiniang: What good is being the revered First Lady if you are denied the Magistrate’s love? He has told me that he fulfills his conjugal duties with you only once a month, but with me . . .
Thoughts of lovemaking with the Magistrate sent shivers through Meiniang’s heart, and as vivid scenes of romance flooded her mind, radiant lights, moist and bright, glowed in her eyes. The somber First Lady had become a blurred outline.
The Magistrate’s wife noticed that the face of the woman across from her, fresh and tender as a freshly picked honey peach, had flushed, that she was breathing fast, and that her eyes were suddenly unfocused, all signs that her emotions were heating up. She had, she felt, achieved a moral victory, and her face, taut and unyielding up till then, softened slowly as her ivory white teeth poked out between purplish-red lips. Tossing a jade bodhisattva on a red cord at Meiniang’s feet, she said arrogantly:
“I had worn that since childhood, until some dog stole it and covered it with ugly canine smells. Since dogs are butchered at your house every day, you should not find it objectionable. You may have it.”
Sun Meiniang blushed. The sight of the jade bodhisattva sent stabbing pains into her backside and brought back the memory of what had happened that night. Rage boiled inside her, and she’d have rushed up and scratched the woman’s pock-scarred face if her legs would have done her bidding. For the Magistrate, all for the Magistrate, you may have your little victory. She knew that more than just a piece of jewelry, the First Lady had tossed over her status, her position, her challenge, and her grievance. Meiniang wavered. Bending down to pick it up would feed the First Lady’s vanity; by refusing the offer, Meiniang could retain her dignity. Picking it up would satisfy the First Lady; not picking it up would outrage her. Satisfying the First Lady would establish a covenant for the love between Meiniang and the Magistrate; outraging the First Lady would erect a barrier between them. She had detected in the Magistrate’s comments about his old-fashioned wife that he revered her. Her illustrious family may well have been a factor in that. For despite its recent decline, the Zeng family retained some of its influence. If the Magistrate could kneel before his wife, why should simply bending over bother Meiniang? And so she bent down and picked up the jade bodhisattva, all for the love of Magistrate Qian. And she did not stop there. One does not build a wall without digging up mud, so it was time to let the curtain fall on this drama. She went down on one knee, as if to show her gratitude for an unexpected favor.
“This common woman thanks the First Lady for her grace.”
The First Lady exhaled loudly.
“Go,” she said. “The Magistrate is in the document room.”
Meiniang got to her feet, picked up the basket of dog meat and millet spirits she’d brought with her, and started to walk off. But the First Lady called her to a halt. With her dark eyes focused on the window, not on Meiniang, she said:
“He’s getting on in years, while you are young . . .”
The First Lady’s hint was not lost on Sun Meiniang. Her face was burning, and she did not know what to say to that. The First Lady walked out of the Western Parlor and headed to the rear of the compound. A welter of emotions fought for primacy in her mind—loathing, love, the pride of winning, and the humiliation of losing.
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9
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The Magistrate’s appetite gradually returned under Meiniang’s ministrations, and he grew stronger each day. Clouds of melancholy creased his brow as he read the documents that had piled up during his illness.
“Meiniang,” he said as he stroked her nicely rounded backside, “dear Meiniang, if I refuse to arrest your dieh, Excellency Yuan will arrest me.”
Meiniang rolled over and sat up.
“Magistrate, my dieh had good reason to attack the German. Yet they responded by killing my stepmother and siblings, and what’s
more, they slaughtered twenty-four innocent civilians. Isn’t that enough? Why do they want my dieh arrested? Is this what people call justice?”
With a bitter smile, the Magistrate said:
“What does a woman know about such things?”
Meiniang grabbed his beard and said coquettishly:
“I may not know much about such things, but I know that my dieh is guilty of nothing.”
The Magistrate sighed.
“I never said he was. But I cannot disobey an order from my superior.”
“Be a good man and let him off the hook,” Meiniang said as she moved seductively on his lap. “Is a County Magistrate powerless to protect an innocent member of the community?”
“How can I make you understand, my precious?”
Meiniang wrapped her arms around his neck and began rubbing her silken body against him enticingly.
“Even by taking care of you the way I do, can I still not save my dieh?”
“Enough,” the Magistrate said, “that is enough. A carriage cannot reach the mountain without a road, but a boat can sail even against the wind. Qingming is nearly here, Meiniang, and, as in the past, I am going to have a set of swings put up in the parade ground for your enjoyment. I will also plant peach trees as a gift to the people. I am doing these things this year, Meiniang, because I cannot say where I will be next year.”
“By this time next year, you will have been promoted to Prefect, no, even higher!”
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10
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When he learned that Sun Bing had led an attack on the railroad shed on Qingming, the County Magistrate suffered a momentary lapse in his ability to function. He threw down the tool he was using to plant a peach tree and, without a word to anyone, crawled into his palanquin. He did not need to be told that his official career was about to end.
Back at the yamen, he summoned his clerks and secretaries.
“You must all know that today has signaled the end of this Magistrate’s official career,” he told them. “You are welcome to continue in your present positions and await the appointment of my replacement. If, however, you prefer to leave, I advise you to do so without delay.”
They exchanged looks, but said nothing.
With a bitter laugh, the Magistrate turned and went into his document room, slamming the door behind him.
The loud noise stunned them all. Deflated, they were at a loss for what to do. The revenue clerk went up to the window and said, “There is a popular adage, Laoye, that goes, ‘Confront soldiers with generals, and dam water with earth.’ What that means in essence is that heaven never seals off all the exits. We urge you to take a broad view.” His plea was met with silence from inside.
So he whispered to Chunsheng:
“Hurry out to the rear compound and tell the First Lady what has happened. Be quick, before something terrible happens.”
Meanwhile, the Magistrate had taken off his official garb and dropped it on the floor. Then he took off his hat and threw it into the corner.
“Happy is the man relieved of his duties,” he said to himself, “and lacking a head means no more worries. Your Imperial Majesty, Empress Dowager, I am unable to carry out my vow of fealty; Excellency Yuan, Excellency Fan, Excellency Cao, I am unable to complete the duties entrusted to me; dear wife, I am unable to fulfill my conjugal responsibilities; my dearest Meiniang, I am unable to stay with you. Sun Bing, you no-account son of a bitch, I have done well by you.”
The County Magistrate stood on a stool, untied the satin sash around his waist, and looped it over a crossbeam. Then he made a noose and inserted his head, carefully placing his beard outside the noose so that it fell neatly across his chest. He was able to see bits of the hazy sky and fine threads of rainwater through a hole poked in the paper covering of the latticed window, put there by a passing sparrow; he also saw his chief assistant, his clerks, his personal attendant, and his constables, all standing in the rain, as well as a pair of swallows that had made their nest under the eaves. Amid the hiss of falling rain and the twitter of swallows, the rich smell of life caressed his face. A light spring chill raised gooseflesh on his arms, in contrast to the sentimental longing for Sun Meiniang’s warm body that filled him up, body and soul. Every cell in his body thirsted for her. Woman, ah, woman, you are a miracle, a true wonder. I know that the destruction of my future occurred on your body, and yet I am still madly in love with you . . . The County Magistrate knew that if he let his thoughts go on like that, his courage to say good-bye to the world would slip away. So he clenched his teeth and kicked the stool out from under him. Vaguely he heard a scream, a woman’s voice. Was his wife coming to him? Or could it be Meiniang? Regret was already setting in, and he strained to reach up and free himself. But his arms were useless . . .
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A City Destroyed
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1
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The County Magistrate set out in his four-man palanquin for Masang Township. In order to project a commanding aura, he took twenty county troopers—ten archers and ten musketeers—along with him. Two hundred forty German soldiers were going through their paces when the procession passed the Tongde Academy parade ground. Outfitted in colorful military attire, the tall, muscular soldiers displayed an impressive battle formation, rocking the area with their cadenced shouts. The Magistrate was shocked by what he saw, but did not show it. More than the tight formation and the Mauser weapons the soldiers carried, what truly impressed him was the row of twelve Krupp cannons crouching on the edge of the parade ground. Looking like enormous tortoises with bright shells and short, thick necks raised skyward, they rested on iron wheels that sat heavily on the ground. When Yuan Shikai had assumed office as Governor of Shandong, the County Magistrate and dozens of other County Magistrates had traveled to Jinan to observe a new force of five thousand soldiers that Yuan had brought from Jinan; it was an eye-opening experience for men who believed that the country now had an army that could stand up to the Great Powers. But compared to the German troops on the parade ground, it was a second-rate military force, even after receiving German weapons and training by German officers, who would not likely put their most powerful weapons in the hands of people whose country they had invaded. Excellency Yuan, what a fool you are.
Truth is, Yuan was not the fool, the County Magistrate was. And that was because Yuan had no intention of confronting the Great Powers with his newly created force.
Back on the Jinan parade ground, Yuan had ordered his artillery unit to fire three volleys. The shells flew over a river and a mountain and landed on a gravelly sandbar. In the company of his fellow officials and led by the artillery unit commander, the County Magistrate had ridden to the spot where the shells had created deep triangular craters in the sandbar, shattering the stones and sending their sharp-edged shards flying in all directions. Several young trees in the nearby wooded area had been truncated, with beads of sap dotting the new stumps. All the County Magistrates had gasped in admiration. But the cannons fired that day might as well have been the sons of the twelve cannons crouching at the edge of the Tongde Academy parade ground. The County Magistrate now understood why Yuan always acquiesced to the Germans’ unreasonable demands, and why, in regard to the Sun Bing incident, he acted like a feckless father who slaps his own son in a cowardly display to ingratiate himself with a powerful man whose son has bullied his. No wonder he warned the people of Gaomi in his proclamation: “Let it be known that the German forces are invincible. Stir up more trouble, and you will come to even greater grief. Only a fool would ignore this advice. Have you not heard the adage ‘Obedience is the path to survival, stubbornness leads only to trouble’? I trust you will keep this wise adage in mind.”
The musketeers and archers under the Magistrate’s once-proud command were a pathetic contrast to the German troops. Qian could barely hold up his head in the face of such disparity. And his embarrassment was shared by the men, wh
o felt like adulterers being paraded naked past the Academy grounds. The Magistrate, a representative of the mighty Imperial Court, had come to the negotiations with an armed escort as a show of strength for the Germans, but now realized that this was as foolish a gesture as facing a mirror with his eyes covered. No wonder his men grimaced when he ordered them to dress in full battle attire. They had seen the military hardware and the disciplined troops at the Tongde Academy back when he lay ill in the yamen. He recalled being informed by subordinates that German troops had entered the county’s capital without formal approval and had turned the Tongde Academy into a military camp, their excuse being that the Academy’s name—Tongde—could be interpreted as meaning “for De-guo, or Germany.” Having decided to end his life, he had turned a deaf ear to the shocking news. But once his death wish had passed, he realized that the Germans’ arrogant entry into town and forcible occupation of the Tongde Academy grounds was nothing less than a piratical act in defiance of the sanctity of Gaomi County as well as that of the Great Qing Empire. He wrote a stern diplomatic note to the German commander, von Ketteler, which was hand delivered by Chunsheng and Liu Pu, demanding an apology and an immediate return to the base site stipulated in the 1898 Sino-German Jiao-Ao Treaty. His messengers returned with von Ketteler’s response that Yuan Shikai and the Imperial Court in Peking had approved the establishment of a camp in Gaomi’s capital. As he contemplated the report—unsure whether or not he should believe it—a messenger from Laizhou arrived on horseback with a telegram from Excellency Yuan, sanctioned by Prefect Cao. Yuan had ordered the County Magistrate to extend every courtesy to the Germans as they established a camp in Gaomi and to gain the release of the German hostages taken by the criminal Sun Bing. Brooking no nonsense, Yuan wrote: