Mo Yan - Sandalwood Death

“Flowers planted will not bloom, stick a willow branch in the ground and give it room. We could not have guessed that our conjugal bliss that day would plant the precious seeds of a dragon child. I was ready to reveal glad tidings when~~Heaven help me~~you arrested my dieh to impale him on a stake defiled~~”

I watched as the country squires led by Licentiate Shan moved toward the contingent of wolfish soldiers, whose eyes widened as they held their rifles in both hands, parallel to the ground. At that point, all but the licentiate slowed down and, as if stepping on eggshells or mired in mud, stopped moving altogether. Little by little, Licentiate Shan separated himself from the crowd, like the leader of a bird formation, but one who left the flock frozen in place behind him. When he passed beneath the Education Memorial Archway, he was met by the sound of rifles being slapped into readiness. The country squires cowered behind the archway, but Licentiate Shan stood fast before it. I tore free of the crowd of women and ran to the archway, where I fell to my knees in front of the craven men and behind Licentiate Shan and howled, startling them all. As they turned to gawk at me, I appealed as if chanting on stage: “Revered elders, respected uncles, honorable shopkeepers, worthy squires, hear my plea. I, Sun Bing’s daughter, Sun Meiniang, kowtow to you and beg you to come to my dieh’s rescue. He was forced into rebelling by another. Everyone knows that even a rabbit will bite in defense, a truth that surely applies to a courageous, upright man who abides by the cardinal guides and constant virtues, a defender of ceremony and propriety. He fomented rebellion among the masses for the benefit of all. Good masters, good uncles, good squires, I beg you, do the merciful thing, for his life is in your hands.”

In the midst of my tears and pleas, I saw Licentiate Shan, a towering man, lift up the hem of his robe, take two or three steps forward, and fall to his knees at the feet of the soldiers. I knew he was kneeling not out of respect for them, but for the county yamen and for Magistrate Qian Ding, my gandieh Qian Laoye.

Oh, Gandieh, Meiniang’s belly swells, the birth of our precious son it foretells. He is the issue of your mighty seed and will carry on the family line. If not for the monk, then for the Buddha himself, come set my dieh free from the condemned cells.

Now that Licentiate Shan was kneeling, the gentlemen behind him did the same, until the street was a sea of bowed black heads. He took a rolled-up document out from under his robe, opened it with both hands, and, in a loud voice, read each of the words written there:

“Sun Bing caused an incident, but not without reason. When his wife and daughter were abused, his wrath surfaced. He led a rebellion, but on behalf of the common people. His crimes do not warrant the penalty of death, and clemency under the law is what we ask. Release Sun Bing in the name of the people…”

Licentiate Shan raised the petition over his head and held it there with both hands, making no move to rise, as if waiting for someone to come take it from him. But all was quiet inside the yamen, so effectively sealed by the wolfish soldiers that it took on the appearance of a rundown temple. Wisps of green smoke continued to rise from scorched beams in the mess hall kitchen that had gone up in flames the night before, and on the walls hung a row of reeking beggars’ heads.

Last night heroic men rioted in the Magistrate’s lair, flames lit up the sky and chaos was carried on the air . If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, on pain of death I would not have believed the scene that was playing out before me. The thought alone struck fear in me. But a second thought removed that fear, for it belonged to the courageous beggars who had looked death in the eye, proclaiming that losing their heads merely produced bowl-sized scars. I think about what occurred last night and cringe at my dieh’s crazed way, a foolproof plan that quickly went astray. That you will not live costs little, that others died is a heavy price to pay. Your erstwhile saviors gave up their lives. If the First Lady had not played her hand, your daughter would not have survived this day . Why? Why, Dieh, tell me why!

From time to time, a somber-faced yayi sped by like a cat on the prowl. Licentiate Shan stayed frozen in his kneeling position—a human statue—for as long as it takes to smoke a bowlful of tobacco. The gentlemen and commoners arrayed behind him created flesh-and-blood statuary. And still all was quiet inside. There was no change—a second bowlful up in smoke. And then a third. The soldiers stood there, wide-eyed, rifles at the ready, as if facing menacing enemies. Sweat dripped down Licentiate Shan’s neck. Another bowlful, and his legs began to twitch; sweat stains spread across his back, and still there was no movement inside the yamen, which was as quiet as death.

Suddenly, from deep within the crowd, the cry “Have mercy—” from old Granny Sun broke the silence.

The cry was echoed by others in the crowd:

“Have mercy—”

“Have mercy—”

Hot tears blurred my vision, but through the watery veil I saw all the supplicants bang their heads in kowtows. Bodies behind and in front of me rose and fell; on both sides rose a cacophony of tearful shouts and thuds of bone against stone.

The crowd of local residents remained on the street until the sun was nearly overhead and the sentries had changed shifts twice, and yet no one had emerged from the compound to accept Licentiate Shan’s petition. Slowly, inevitably, the old man’s hands fell lower and lower, and his back began to arch forward. Then, finally, he toppled over in a faint. At that moment, I heard drums pound, horns toot, cymbals and bells ring. Cannons fire three times as the gate makes its rumbling swing. From it emerges an honor guard. I turn away from the wolfish sentries and from the official party. My eyes are fixed on a prison van, on which two cages stand, a prisoner in each. One is my dieh, the true Sun Bing, the other Xiao Shanzi, the sham Sun Bing.

Meow meow, meow meow, my heart was breaking…

Zhu Ba clamped his vise-like hands around my throat until I saw stars, my ears rang, my eyes bulged, and my temples throbbed… I knew my life was ebbing fast. But no, I cannot die like this; to have the life choked out of me by Zhu Ba would be a travesty. Alive I must be heroic, and I will be defiant unto death. Brother Zhu Ba, Sun Bing knows why you are doing this, that you are afraid of my being impaled on the stake. You are afraid that I will not be able to endure the punishment and will cry for my father and mother. You are afraid that the moment will come when both a speedy death and a life worth living are denied me. And so you plan to foil the Germans’ scheme by leaving them only my corpse. Take your hands away, Brother Zhu Ba, for killing me this way will ruin my good name. You should know that my resistance to the Germans has been only partially realized; if I shy from my goal now, it will be like a tigerhead start and a snake-tail finish, a cowardly abandonment. I look forward to walking proudly down the street singing a Maoqiang aria, to live like a warrior and die as a martyr. I want to stand tall and shout my militancy; I want to be the agent of a popular awakening and the cause of crippling fear among the foreign devils. Only moments before death claimed me, I suddenly knew what I had to do: I first clawed at my would-be killer’s eyes with both hands and then kneed him in the groin. Something hot and wet dripped down my body as the hands fell away, freeing my neck from danger.