Mo Yan - Sandalwood Death

“I’m not doing this for you alone.”

She went into the kitchen and scooped the cooked dog’s legs out of the pot with tongs, drained the liquid, and covered them with a layer of fragrant pepper salt. Then she wrapped them in dry lotus leaves and put them in her basket. From Xiaojia’s tool kit she removed a paring knife and tested the point on her fingernail. Satisfied that it was sharp enough, she slipped it into the bottom of her basket.

“What do you need a knife for?” her puzzled husband asked her.

“To kill someone!”

“Who?”

“You!”

He rubbed his neck and snickered.

At the entrance to the county yamen, Sun Meiniang gave one of her silver bracelets to Xiaotun, who was standing guard at the gate with his fowling piece, and pinched him playfully on the thigh.

“My good brother,” she said softly, “won’t you let me in?”

“Let you in to do what?” Xiaotun was so pleased by the attention that his eyes had narrowed to slits. With his chin he motioned to the big drum that stood to the side of the gate. “You’re supposed to beat that drum if you want to lodge a complaint.”

“What sort of complaint could someone like me have that was serious enough to beat that drum?” Her sweet-smelling cheek nearly touched Xiaotun’s ear. “Your Magistrate sent a message that he wanted me to bring him some dog meat.”

With a series of exaggerated sniffs, Xiaotun said:

“That does smell good, really good! Who’d have imagined that Magistrate Qian liked this stuff?”

“I’ve never known one of you vulgar males who didn’t like this stuff.”

“Good sister, after you’ve seen to it that the Magistrate has eaten his fill, you can bring me the bones to gnaw on…”

She pretended to spit in his face.

“You naughty boy, do you really think I’d forget you? So tell me, where will I find the Magistrate at this hour?”

“At this hour…” Xiaotun looked up to see where the sun was in the sky. “I expect he’ll be in the document room attending to business. Over there.”

After being let in, she followed the path that took her through the garden where the beard competition had been held, past the secondary gate, and into the official compound, with its six offices; she walked down the eastern passageway, skirting the main building, where he held court, drawing curious looks from everyone she met and responding with a sweet smile that let their imaginations run wild and set their souls on fire. Yayi drooling at the sight of her swaying hips exchanged hungry looks and knowing nods of the head. Dog meat, that’s right, taking him some dog meat, turns out it’s the Magistrate’s favorite. She is quite the sleek, plump bitch… pleased with themselves, the yayi smiled lasciviously.

Her heart began to race, her mouth was dry, and her knees went weak when she stepped into the Second Hall compound. The young clerk leading the way stopped and pointed with his pursed lips to the document room. She turned to thank him, but he had already left her side and returned to his courtyard. As she stood in front of the high carved and latticed door, she took a deep breath to settle the turmoil in her heart. Blasts of the heavy fragrance of lilac emerging from the Budgetary Office area behind the Second Hall made her restless. She touched up the curls at her ears, straightened the red velvet flower tucked behind one of them, then ran her hand down over her jacket, from the slanted collar to the hem. When she gently opened the door, a green curtain embroidered with two silver egrets blocked her way, and in that instant the blood seemed to race uncontrollably through her body, as the image of the intimate pair of white egrets she’d seen kissing on the pond leaped into her head. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out, and was mystified by her inability to tell whether the turmoil she was experiencing was caused by love or by hate, by resentment or by injustice. What she did know was that her chest felt as if it might explode. With difficulty, she took several steps backward and rested her head against the coolness of the wall.

By clenching her teeth, in time she was able to calm the rough seas inside. She returned to the door, where she heard the faint rustle of pages in a book being turned and the clink of a lid as it was placed on a teacup. When that was followed by a light cough, her throat clamped shut and she could hardly breathe. It was his cough, a cough by the man of her dreams, but also the cough of a bitter enemy, the man who had yanked out every hair of her father’s beard, a man with a benevolent exterior but a cruel nature. She was reminded of the humiliation stemming from her unrequited love and of Aunty Lü’s advice, plus the filthy remedy she had consumed. You thug, now I know why I have come. I fooled myself into believing that I wanted to avenge my father, but in fact, the sickness is in my bones and cannot be cured, not in this life. I have come for release, though I know he could never give a passing glance to the big-footed wife of a butcher. If I throw myself at him, he will only push me away. For me there is no hope and no salvation, so I will let you watch me die, or maybe I will watch you die and then follow you by my own hand.

In order to find the courage to break through the curtain before her, she had to intensify her hatred. But that sense was like nothing so much as willow catkins lifted into the air by a spring breeze—rootless and insubstantial, powerless to keep from being blown out of existence by even the slightest breath of air. The bouquet of lilac dulled her mind and unsettled her heart, just as a faint whistle rose from the other side of the curtain, like the melodious twitter of a bird. The idea that an eminent personage such as the County Magistrate was capable of whistling like a frivolous young man caught her by surprise. A cool breezed seemed to caress her, raising gooseflesh and opening a seam in her mind. Heavenly Laoye, if I don’t do something fast, my courage will desert me altogether. She needed an immediate change of plans. Reaching into her basket, she took out the knife, intending to rush into the room and stab him in the heart before turning the knife on herself. Their blood would flow together. Steeling herself, she tore open the curtain, took one step, and was in the document room; the egrets on the embroidered curtain fell back into place to cut the two of them off from the outside world.

The document room’s broad writing desk, the writing implements atop it, the scrolls of calligraphy hanging on the walls, a flower rack in the corner, the flower pots on it, and the flowers and plants in them were illuminated by sunlight streaming in through the latticed window; it all slowly entered her consciousness once the intense emotions had peaked and were beginning to retreat. When she’d first parted the curtain, the only thing that had entered the curtain of her vision was the Magistrate. Casually dressed in a baggy robe, he was leaning back in an armchair with his white-stockinged feet on the table. Startled by her entrance, he took his feet down, a look of astonishment frozen on his face. He sat up, laid down the book he was reading, and stared at her.

“You…”

Then two pairs of eyes were riveted to each other, as if linked by red threads that quickly became entangled. An invisible rope seemed to bind her tightly, and she hadn’t an ounce of strength to struggle against it. The basket over her arm and the knife in her hand clattered to the brick floor. Light glinted off the knife. She did not see it; neither did he. The cooked dog’s legs gave off a mouth-watering aroma. She did not smell it; neither did he. Hot tears gurgled from her eyes and wetted her face as well as the front of her jacket. She’d put on a lotus-colored satin top whose sleeves, collar, and hem were all embroidered with pea-green floral piping. The high collar enhanced her long, delicate, fair neck. Her haughty breasts cried out from under her jacket, and her slightly reddened face looked like a dew-covered pink lotus—fragile, tender, timid, abashed. Magistrate Qian was profoundly moved. This beautiful woman, who seemed to have fallen out of the sky, was like a lover who had returned after a long absence.