Mo Yan - Sandalwood Death

Her anxiety moved him deeply. After glancing into the yard, where Xiaojia was skinning a dog, he said softly, “He’s improving physically, but mentally he is in bad shape; he gets agitated easily. He’s wasting away, and if he doesn’t start eating soon, I’m afraid he’ll starve to death.”

“My dear Magistrate!” Sun Meiniang cried out mournfully, accompanied by a cascade of tears.

“The First Lady has sent me to ask you to take some millet spirits and dog meat to the yamen, both to make Laoye feel better and,” he said with a little laugh, “to get his appetite back.”

“The First Lady? Don’t mention her to me,” she said with a gnashing of her teeth. “Your First Lady is worse than a sadistic scorpion spirit.”

“Mistress Sun, our First Lady is kind and honest, and always reasonable. How can you curse her like that?”

“What do you know?” Meiniang replied angrily. “Kind and honest, you say? Well, I say that her heart must have steeped in a vat of black dye for twenty years, and that one drop of her blood would be enough to kill a horse!”

“What did the First Lady ever do to you?” Chunsheng said with a little laugh. “This is like a mugger getting angry instead of his victim, or a lack of tears from a child that has lost its mother but wails from one whose mother is still alive.”

“Get out of my sight!” Meiniang demanded. “I’ll have nothing more to do with anyone in that yamen.”

“Mistress Sun, does this mean that your concern for Laoye no longer exists?” Chunsheng said with a supercilious grin. “If you no longer care about Laoye, does that mean you no longer care about his queue? And if you no longer care about his queue, does that mean you no longer care about his beard? And if you no longer care about his beard, does that really mean you no longer care about Laoye himself?”

“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?”

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.