Antonio Garrido - The Corpse Reader

“Protocol’s protocol, Cí, and we all have to respect it.”

Cí had gone straight to Bo’s quarters, where he found the official just finishing his bath. Perhaps it was because he’d been interrupted, but Bo didn’t seem very disposed to help.

“If you try and circumnavigate protocol, heaven help you.”

The ritual nature of the emperor’s every movement was well known. But what Cí also knew was that if he was going to solve this case, he couldn’t have more delays.

“I’ve solved the crimes.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it. “It can’t wait, and I definitely can’t talk to Kan about it first.”

Bo looked skeptically at Cí.

“Have you forgotten,” asked Cí, “the attic’s collapsing on my head? If you don’t help me, I might not be around tomorrow to tell anyone what I’ve found.”

Bo agreed, gritted his teeth, and went to his superior, who within a matter of hours had passed the request up the chain of command. Bo learned that, although there was consternation among the officials over Cí’s request, one of the elders grasped its importance and took the petition to the emperor himself.

To Cí, the time passing felt like years. Then he was summoned.

The elder official’s face was cold as stone as he considered Cí. Finally he spoke.

“His Majesty will receive you in the Throne Room.” He lit a stick of incense the length of a fingernail and handed it to Cí. “This is the time you have allotted to speak. Not a moment longer.”

As Cí followed the man to the Throne Room, he licked a finger and touched it to the side of the incense, hoping it would slow its burning a little. Suddenly the elder stood aside, and Cí was face to face with the emperor.

Cí was dazzled by the emperor’s golden tunic. Before he could think of what to say, the elder official hissed at him to kneel. Cí, regaining his composure, got down and kissed the floor. The incense was already burning low, and the elder was taking an eternity with the formalities. When he was finally ushered forward, everything came out in a jumble: his suspicions about Kan, all the lies, and the councilor’s blatant attempts to frame Blue Iris.

The emperor listened in silence. His pale eyes scrutinized Cí. His waxen face was utterly devoid of emotion.

“You are accusing one of my most loyal men of dishonorable acts.” Ningzong’s voice was slow and deliberate. “An Imperial Councilor who would willingly chop off his own hand if I said so. If your accusations turn out to be wrong, the penalty will obviously be death. And yet, you’re still here. Keeping the embers of a tiny stick of incense between your fingers…” He brought his hands together and placed them over his pursed lips.

“Yes, Majesty.”

“If I give the order for Kan to be brought here and he refutes your allegations, I’ll be obliged to have you executed. If, on the other hand, you think better of it and decide to withdraw your accusation, I shall be magnanimous. I shall forget the nerve you have shown in coming here. I want you to think properly about this. Are you prepared to uphold your accusation?”

Cí took a very deep breath. The incense was all but gone.

“Yes,” he said without having to think about it at all.

An official was sent to fetch the Councilor for Punishments. When he burst back into the Throne Room, he looked as if he’d seen a devil; he was bathed in sweat and shaking all over. He ran and threw himself at the emperor’s feet, and the emperor recoiled as if touched by a leper. Several guards were on the man immediately, pulling him away. He was incoherent. His dilated pupils spoke pure terror.

“He’s dead, Your Majesty! Kan has hanged himself in his room!”

PART SIX

32

Ningzong suspended all royal engagements immediately and ordered the Imperial Judges to be summoned. With them in tow, and surrounded by a large retinue and all his guards, the emperor went in semiprocession to Kan’s rooms. Cí was allowed to go with them.

Kan’s flabby, naked body, hanging from the rafters, stopped them all in midstep. His face looked like that of a burst toad. Ningzong ordered the body cut down, but the Imperial Judges advised against it; they all agreed the first thing was for the room to be inspected. Cí was asked to take part in this.

While the judges commented on Kan’s appearance, Cí’s mind turned to the fine layer of dust on the tiles, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight. He made a quick sketch of the layout of the furniture in the room, including the large dresser that Kan must have climbed on to reach the rafters. He was then granted permission to examine the corpse, and he was so nervous that it felt as if it were the first time he had ever performed such an examination.

Kan’s neck was grotesquely disjointed, his one eye was shut, and his partially open lips and what could be seen of the gums were black. The teeth were clamped down on the tongue. There was dried spittle at the corners of the mouth, and the rest of the face was tinged blue. His fingers and toes were curled unnaturally inward. His stomach and lower abdomen hung lower than they normally would and had turned blue-black. His thick legs had little spots of blood below the skin—much like the marks made by moxibustion. A pile of feces was on the floor beneath him.

Cí asked permission to approach the corpse and hopped onto the dresser. The rope, he now saw, was made of braided hemp the width of a pinkie finger, thin enough that it cut deep into the skin. It had a slipknot in it and crossed around the back of the head, ear to ear, where it had left a deep, blackish groove just beneath the hairline. To everyone’s surprise, Cí asked for a chair and stood on it on top of the dresser. Higher now, he was able to study the top of the rafter itself, over which the rope had been slung. Then he climbed down and announced he was finished.

Ningzong ordered that Kan be cut down and asked that the Councilor for Rites be brought so funeral preparations could take place.

Once Kan’s body was down, Cí quickly checked the neck to see if the trachea was broken. As the body was being carried out, Bo found a handwritten note on a table alongside Kan’s neatly folded clothes. He scanned it and brought it to the emperor, who read it to himself in a low voice. Then he crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor. When he looked up, his rage was plain for all to see. There would be no public ceremony, he announced, and the Councilor for Rites would not be needed. Kan’s body would be buried nowhere special, he said, and he forbade the utterance of even one word of sympathy for Kan.

A murmur of surprise went around. As the retinue followed the quickly departing emperor, Bo picked up the note and passed it to Cí, who smoothed it out. Kan’s handwriting was unmistakable, and his seal was there, too. He confessed to the murders and to an attempt to discredit Blue Iris.

Cí sat on the mahogany floor. He couldn’t believe it was all over.

Eventually, Bo helped him to his feet. Cí said good-bye, unsteadily, and headed out into the gardens.

There was nothing keeping him here now. Ming would be freed; Blue Iris would be exonerated. Any accusations Gray Fox brought against him, Feng had promised to divert. The Imperial exams were within reach.