Mo Yan - Sandalwood Death

Dieh, last night we tried to save you, and almost won. If you’d not lost your head, the deed would now be done. Dieh, oh, Dieh, four beggars’ lives were lost. Look at the winged walls beside the gate~~your heart will ache, blood from your eyes will run. On the left two heads, on the right three, one monkey and two human. On the left Zhu Ba and Xiao Luanzi, on the right Xiao Lianzi, Houqi, and his monkey, all rotting in the sun. (So vicious that even an innocent monkey was not spared!)

The sun climbed slowly into the sky, yet all was quiet inside the yamen. I imagined they would wait till noon to take my dieh out of his cell. But already, people—dignified individuals in robes and hats—were emerging slowly from Shan Family Lane, opposite the yamen gate. As the most famous lane in town, it had gained notoriety for being home to not one, but two Imperial licentiates. That glory, however, belonged to the past. Now the family’s reputation was propped up by a single metropolitan licentiate, not quite so honored, but still worthy of admiration. No one in the county enjoyed higher prestige or greater respect than Shan Wen, an old man whose style name was Zhaojin. Although he had never visited our home to buy spirits or dog meat and was a virtual recluse who spent his days reading, writing, and painting, he was no stranger to me. I must have heard Qian Ding mention his name a hundred times, and when he did, his eyes glowed as he stroked his beard and studied samples of the old man’s painting and calligraphy hanging on his wall. “How can a man like that suffer such neglect!” he said with a sigh, and followed that with “How can a man like that not suffer such neglect!” When I asked what he meant by such confusing talk, he would only lay his hand on my shoulder and say, “All the notable talent in this county of yours is concentrated in a single individual, but now the Royal Court plans to do away with the examination system, and he will never have a chance to pass the Imperial Examination, to ‘win laurels in the Moon Palace,’ as they say.” But as I studied the scrolls, with hills and trees that looked like none I had ever seen, with dim outlines of people, and with written characters that did not conform to those I knew, I failed to see a sign of greatness. But what did I, a mere woman who could sing a few Maoqiang arias, know? Master Qian, on the other hand, was an Imperial licentiate, a man of vast knowledge who knew many things; if he said something was good, then good it was, and so in my eyes old Mr. Shan was truly a great man.

Licentiate Shan had bushy eyebrows, a prominent nose and mouth on a large face, and a beard that, while finer than most, was inferior to Qian Ding’s, the most impressive beard anywhere in Gaomi after my dieh’s was plucked clean; old man Shan now owned the second-finest beard in the county. He was striding at the head of the procession emerging from the lane, head held high, a man comfortable in the position of leader. His head was cocked at a slight angle, and I wondered whether that was a permanent impairment or something unique to today’s circumstance. I recalled having seen him in the past, more than once, in fact, but that detail had escaped me. Cocking his head gave him sort of a wild look, more like a bandit chief than a man of learning. The crowd behind him was composed exclusively of prominent Gaomi personages. They included the corpulent pawnbroker Li Shizeng, in his red-tasseled cap; the skinny Su Ziqing, proprietor of the local fabric shop, who never stopped blinking; and pockmarked Qin Renmei, proprietor of the herbal medicine store… everyone who was anyone in Gaomi’s county town was there. Some wore somber looks and kept their eyes straight ahead; others, clearly skittish, kept glancing around, almost as if looking for support; and still others walked with their heads down, staring at the tips of their shoes, seemingly afraid of being recognized. Their emergence from Shan Family Lane drew the immediate attention of everyone on the street, taking many by surprise. But there were those who knew exactly what this augured.

“Well, now,” they said, “Licentiate Shan has made an appearance, which surely means that Sun Bing will be saved!”

“Not only Master Qian, but even Excellency Yuan will find it necessary to give Licentiate Shan a bit of face, especially since all the other Gaomi luminaries have shown up.”

“Not even the Emperor himself would oppose the people’s wishes. Let’s go!”

And so the people fell in behind Licentiate Shan and the other distinguished gentlemen as they walked over to the square across from the county yamen and formed a sprawling crowd. Like languid dogs suddenly splashed with cold water, the German sentries and Yuan Shikai’s Imperial Guard snapped out of their lethargy, turning the “canes” on which they were resting back into rifles. Green rays spurted from their eyes.

All sorts of strange revelations had floated in the air since the German devils first came ashore at Qingdao. One report had it that their legs were straight and rigid, with no kneecaps to allow them to bend. When they fell over, it was said, they could not get back up. I knew that was a ludicrous rumor because I could see the foreign soldiers’ knees bulging out like little garlic hammers in their tight uniform pants. Another story about those creatures was that they screwed like horses and donkeys, shooting their wads as soon as they made it in. But a prostitute in the red light district said to me: “Shoot their wads like horses and donkeys, you say? I tell you, these self-styled gods are like oversized boars, and once they climb on top of you, they stay there for the next hour, at least.” People also said that the creatures were always on the hunt for good-looking, clever, quick-witted boys, and when they found them, they pared their tongues with sharp knives so they could learn how to talk like the barbarians. When I asked Master Qian, he had a good laugh over that. “Maybe they do,” he said, “but you don’t have to worry because you don’t have a son.” Then he gently rubbed my belly and, as his eyes lit up, said, “Meiniang, oh, Meiniang, I want you to give me a son!” I told him I didn’t think that was possible. If I could have a child, I said, after all these years with Xiaojia, I’d have one by now. With a gentle squeeze, he said, “Didn’t you tell me your husband is a fool who hasn’t grasped the concept of intimacy?” He squeezed harder, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. “I haven’t let Xiaojia touch me since the first day I gave myself to you,” I said. “Go ask him if you don’t believe me.” “Are you actually suggesting that I, a dignified Magistrate, the county’s most respected individual, should go calling on an idiot?” “Not even the county’s most respected individual’s prick is carved out of stone,” I said, “and when the most respected individual is soft, what’s the difference between that and a puddle of snot? The most respected individual isn’t above jealousy, is he?” Well, after I said that, he loosened his hand and giggled. Then he took me in his arms and said, “My little treasure, you make my chest swell and my heart soar; you are a magic potion sent down to me by the Jade Emperor…” Burying my face in his chest, I said coquettishly, “Why won’t you find a way to take me from Xiaojia so I can spend every day of the year looking after you? I don’t need a formal title; I’ll be content to be your personal serving girl.” He just shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. How could I, a dignified County Magistrate, a representative of the Throne, take a citizen’s wife from him? If word of that got out, being mocked would be nothing compared to the certain loss of my official hat.” “Then let me go,” I said. “From this day forward I will never again set foot in this yamen.” Well, he kissed me and said, “But I cannot give you up.” Then, in the style of a Maoqiang actor, he sang, “This official is in dire straits~~” “When did you learn how to sing Maoqiang? Who was your teacher, my dear man of the hour?” “If wisdom you wish to reap, then with a teacher you must sleep,” he said roguishly as he patted me on the buttocks as a prelude to more singing, this time in the style of my dieh, and remarkably similar: “The sky turns yellow as the sun sinks in the west, a tiger runs into the hills, a bird returns to its nest. Only this county boss has nowhere to hide, and must sit in his hall, loneliness to abide~~” “What sort of loneliness must you abide when you have me keeping you company in bed?” Instead of answering me, he turned my buttocks into a cat drum, pounding out a rhythmic, sonorous beat as he continued to sing: “I have been a parched seedling sprinkled with dew, ever since the day I first met you.” “You are forever trying to sweet-talk me,” I said, “me, a village woman who sells dog meat for a living. What good is someone like that?” “Your virtues know no end~~in the heat of summer you are ice, in the depths of winter I’m warmed by the flames you send. Your greatest virtue is how you slake my thirst, till I sweat from every pore and my aging joints once again can bend. To lie in bed with the Sun mistress in my arms surpasses the immortals with their heavenly charms~~” As his song came to an end, he laid me down and covered my face with his beard, as if it were a fanned-out horse’s tail. “Gandieh, ah, the words go: