Antonio Garrido - The Corpse Reader

The father nodded.

The barber placed a stick between the boy’s teeth and told him to bite down. As soon as he resumed his work, the boy passed out. It wasn’t long before the barber was finished, and he handed the parents their son’s amputated genitalia.

The barber, packing away his things, gave them instructions: As soon as he came to, the boy was to walk around as much as possible for two hours, then rest completely for the following three days. After that, the straw compress could be removed. He’d be able to urinate without any problem; everything would be fine.

As the barber started to leave, Cí stepped out in front of him.

“He still needs looking after.”

The man spat on the ground and sneered.

“The last thing I need is children.”

Cí bit his lip. He was about to reply but was interrupted by sudden cries behind him. Turning around, he saw that the boy lay in a pool of his own blood. And when Cí turned back, the barber had disappeared. Cí went over to try and help, but the boy was half-dead already. And then a pair of police officers arrived. Seeing Cí step back with blood all over his hands, they assumed he was responsible and tried to detain him. Cí dashed into the crowd and made his way to the canal, where he washed his hands and shook his head in disbelief at all that had just happened. He sat and looked up at the sky.

Midday already, and I still have no idea how I’m going to pay for the hostel or Third’s medicine.

Just then, a small cricket clambered onto his shoe. He flicked it off. But as the insect was trying to right itself, Cí remembered the fortune-teller’s proposal.

The thought of it made him nauseous; he hated the idea of making money from his unusual syndrome, but the situation with Third meant he might have to. Maybe it was the only thing of any value about him.

The canal’s dark, turbulent waters made their way toward the river. He thought of throwing himself in, but the picture of Third in his mind held him back.

He jumped to his feet, suddenly decisive. Maybe he was destined to end up dead in the river, but even if that was his fate, he didn’t need to give in so easily. He spat on the ground and headed off in search of Xu.

The fortune-teller wasn’t at the market stalls in the fisherman’s district or at the salting houses, nor was he at the brick market next to the silk shops along the wharves or the Imperial Market. Cí asked everyone and anyone, to no avail. It was as if the earth had swallowed up the fortune-teller and spit out a hundred other tricksters and charlatans in his place.

Cí was ready to give up when he suddenly remembered Xu’s job at the Great Cemetery. He boarded a barge to get there.

On his way to the Fields of Death, he wondered if this was the right thing to do. Why try so hard to stay in Lin’an? His only interest here was in continuing his studies. Perhaps it would be better to flee to a city where no one knew him, and where there weren’t the likes of Kao on his trail. Here he was, though, trying to prolong a dream any idiot could have told him was now unattainable.

How could his father have dishonored the family and condemned him and Third to their current state? The same man who had taught him about honor and being virtuous in society had apparently thieved and betrayed Feng’s trust! It seemed unbelievable, but the man at the university had said the reports were beyond doubt. And Cí had read through them, memorizing the details of each accusation. For all his anger at his father, he still questioned whether his father could have been guilty of such acts.

He opened his eyes with a hard jolt of the barge as it moored clumsily at a jetty on the western lake near the cemetery.

As Cí made his way up the gentle incline to the Fields of Death, he was far from alone. It was a common thing to do at the end of the working week—to join together as a family and honor one’s dead, and many people were walking up the hill. Third came into Cí’s thoughts; the sun was starting to set, and he didn’t know if Moon would have fed his sister, or if Third’s cough had worsened. At the idea of Third going hungry and needing her medicine, Cí quickened his pace. Overtaking a number of people, he reached the huge gate at the cemetery’s entrance. He asked a group of groundspeople if they knew where he could find Xu, but they didn’t, so Cí continued up the hill, to the highest part of the cemetery. The higher he went, the better kept the lawns were, and here in the most exclusive part of the cemetery, there were large gravestones and gardens with family mausoleums. Groups of wealthy families, dressed pristinely in mourning white, made offerings of tea and incense. He saw a gardener by a pavilion that had a sweeping, winglike roof and asked again about Xu. The man pointed up higher, in the direction of the Eternal Mausoleum.

Cí reached a squarish temple swathed in mist. A small man was digging a grave, spitting curses with every shovelful of earth extracted. Seeing Xu, Cí was suddenly nervous. He watched as the man stopped to rest, and then he approached slowly, still unsure that this was a good idea.

Just as Cí considered turning on his heels to go, the fortune-teller looked up and caught his eye. He planted his spade in the earth and straightened up. Then he spat on his hands and shook his head.

“What the hell are you doing here? If you’re after more money, I’ve spent it on women and wine, so you might as well go back to where you came from.”

Cí frowned. “I thought you’d be pleased to see me. You seemed a bit more enthusiastic yesterday.”

“Yesterday? I was drunk yesterday. And now I’ve got work to do.”

“Don’t you remember your offer?”

“Listen. Thanks to you, the whole of Lin’an knows how I worked it with the crickets. I have no idea how I got away this morning. If the others had caught up with me, I’d be in one of these,” he said, pointing to the grave.

“Sorry, but I wasn’t the one cheating people.”

“Ah, right! So what do you call going up against a giant knowing that, even if they cut you in two, it wouldn’t hurt a bit? Damn! Get out of here before you make me get out of this grave and kick you out.”

“But yesterday you wanted me to do it. I’m here to accept your offer. Don’t you get it?”

“Listen, the one who doesn’t get it is you .” The fortune-teller got out of the grave, brandishing the spade. “You don’t get that you’ve made it so I can never go back to the market. You don’t get that word’s spread about your special talent, and now no one’s ever going to bet against you. You don’t get that you’re cursed, you’re bad luck! And most of all, you don’t get that I’ve got work to do!”

Then a voice came from behind them.

“He bothering you, Xu?” An enormous man covered in tattoos had appeared out of nowhere.

“He was just leaving.”

“Well, get on with that grave,” said the man. “Otherwise you’ll be looking for another job.”

The fortune-teller grabbed the spade and began digging again. Cí jumped in beside him.

“What are you up to?” Xu asked.

“Can’t you see?” he said, scooping out earth using his hands. “Helping.”

The fortune-teller looked at him for a moment and sighed.

“Go on, take this,” he said, handing him a hoe.

They dug side by side until the hole was the length of a body and half as deep. Xu worked silently, but when they finished, he sat back on the grave edge, took a dirty flask from his bag, and handed it to Cí.