Sandalwood Death (64 page)

“Careful!” he said under his breath.

I wiped my face with my sleeve and took several deep breaths. In the midst of howls that got louder and louder, I began to calm down. My wrist was no longer sore, my legs were strong again, my head was no longer swollen, and my vision returned,
meow
. Dieh had regained his human face, and my gongdieh no longer had the head of a bear. Pumping myself up as my strength surged back, I recommenced pounding the stake:

beng——beng——beng——

Meow meow
——

There was no stopping Sun Bing’s howls now, shrieks that drowned out all other sounds. The stake was back in the right position, guided by Dieh as it inched its way deeper into him, between his vital organs and his backbone . . .

Ow——oh——ahh——yeow——

Meow meow mew——

Disturbing sounds emerged from inside his body, like cats in heat. What was that? I wondered. Are my ears deceiving me? Strange strange really strange, there are cats in the stomach of my wife’s father. I was on the verge of losing my concentration again, but before that happened, I received calm assurances from Dieh. The louder Sun Bing screamed, the more comforted I was by the smile on Dieh’s face. Even his eyes, which had narrowed to a slit, were smiling. He looked like a man who was enjoying a leisurely smoke and listening to opera, not someone inflicting the cruelest form of punishment on a man,
meow meow
. . .

The stake finally broke through Sun Bing’s skin just above his shoulders, making a small tent of his collar. My dieh’s original idea was to have the stake emerge from Sun Bing’s mouth, but for someone who had sung opera all his life, a stake through the mouth would have ended that possibility, so he decided to have it emerge from between his shoulder blades. I laid down the oily mallet, picked up my knife, and cut open the collar of his shirt. Dieh signaled me to keep pounding, so I picked up the mallet and swung it another ten or fifteen times,
meow meow
, until the same length of stake impaling Sun Bing was visible top and bottom. Sun Bing’s howls continued without weakening. Dieh examined the points of entry and exit, in each of which a trickle of blood had stuck to the wood. A contented look spread across his face. I heard him breathe a huge sigh of relief. I did the same, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Meow
. . .

————

9

————

Under Dieh’s direction, four yayi lifted the pine plank, with my gongdieh on it, off the rack and carried it carefully up the Ascension Platform, which was taller than the rooftop of any house in town. The platform was next to the shed, connected by a long, gently sloping ramp of rough wood and some logs to make it easy to negotiate. And yet the four strong men were sweating profusely, leaving damp footprints on the wood as they climbed. Sun Bing, who was strapped tightly to the plank, was still howling, but he was losing his voice, and his energy level was dropping fast. Dieh and I followed the men up the ramp to the spacious top of the platform, whose new flooring smelled refreshingly of pinesap. A three-foot-long crossbar of white wood had been attached to a spot just below the top of a thick pine pole that had been erected in the center of the platform, creating a frame that looked like the cross I’d seen at the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

The yayi gently laid down the plank to which Sun Bing was attached and retreated to the side to await further instructions. Dieh told me to cut the leather straps holding Sun Bing to the plank. His body immediately expanded, and his limbs flailed wildly, but that was the only movement the stake would allow. So as not to completely sap what strength he had left and, at the same time, to protect against injury to his internal organs, with me looking on, Dieh had the yayi pick Sun Bing up and tie his legs to the dark pole and his hands to the crossbar. He was now standing upright in the center of the platform, but only his head enjoyed freedom of movement. Out came the curses:

“Fuck your old granny, von Ketteler——fuck your old granny, Yuan Shikai——fuck your old granny, Qian Ding——fuck your old granny, Zhao Jia——fuck your old granny——ow——!”

Black blood streamed from his mouth and ran down onto his chest.

Meow meow
. . .

————

10

————

Before walking down off the platform, I took a look around, and my heart suddenly seemed to contract, so violently was I having trouble breathing,
meow
. . .

All four sides of the parade ground were packed with people, bright sunlight glinting off their heads. The only reason for that, I knew, was that all those heads were wet with sweat. Sun Bing’s curses merged with the pigeons soaring above us and spread out in all directions, like waves rushing to the shore. Soldiers—foreign troops and Yuan’s government troops—stood as motionless as posts amid the crush of local residents. There was someone on my mind at that moment,
meow
, know who that was? I searched among the onlookers. Found her! Two burly women were gripping my wife by the arms, and a tall woman was holding her tightly around the waist to keep her from taking even one step forward; she could only leap backward. I heard her cry out in agony, a knife-edged sound as sharp and as oily green as a bamboo leaf.

My wife’s wails threw my mind into upheaval. There was no denying that my feelings toward her had decreased after Dieh came into my life, but I’d had strong feelings toward her before that. She used to let me suck on her breasts even during the daytime, a thought that got an immediate response from my little pecker.
Meow meow
, I recalled how she said: “Go on, go to your dieh, go ahead and die in your dieh’s room!” When I wouldn’t move, she kicked me . . . memories of my wife’s virtues brought a soreness to my eyes and an ache to my nose,
meow meow
, I was nearly in tears. I started to run down the ramp, intent on going straight to my wife, so I could feel her breasts again and smell her. I’d give her the remainder of a malt candy Dieh had given to me that was still in my pocket. But a small heated hand grabbed hold of my wrist; I knew it was Dieh without having to look. He pulled me over to the pig-slaughtering rack, where another criminal awaited, along with an oil-steeped sandalwood stake that emitted a strong sesame aroma. Dieh got his message across without having to say a word; his hand said it all. Then his words pounded against my eardrums: “Son, you are doing something too important to let your thoughts run wild. You mustn’t cast aside the nation and the Imperial Court over a woman. I cannot let you commit a capital offense like that. Dieh has told you many times that once our faces are smeared with the blood of a white rooster, men in our line of work are no longer people, and the suffering of the human world is none of our concern. We are tools in the employ of the Emperor, visible, corporal manifestations of the law. How could you even think of giving your wife that piece of candy under these circumstances? Even if I said it was all right, Yuan Shikai and von Ketteler would not permit it. Take a good long look at the impressive figures sitting on the stage where your wife’s father once performed, and tell me if either one of them looks any less fierce than a tiger or a wolf.”

I looked over at the stage, where Yuan Shikai and von Ketteler sat stony-faced, pinpoints of green light boring down on me from both pairs of eyes. Quickly lowering my head, I followed Dieh back to the stand. Wife of mine, I muttered under my breath, stop crying. After all, that father of yours isn’t much of a dieh. Didn’t you say he once let a donkey bite you on the head? That sandalwood stake has him pinned to a post, and that’s a fact. If he’d been a good dieh, like mine, then you’d be right to cry if he was pinned by the stake. But don’t cry over one like Sun Bing. You probably think he’s in agony. Well, you’re wrong. This is the moment of his greatest glory. He and my dieh were celebrating that a while ago,
meow meow
.

Qian Ding was rooted to the spot, staring at something, though I knew he saw nothing. For someone supposedly in charge of the execution, he hadn’t done a damn thing and was worse than useless. Better to let Dieh and me do our job without waiting for him to give orders. Since the prison van had brought us two Sun Bings, we were required to inflict the sandalwood death on both of them. The real Sun Bing was already up on the Ascension Platform, thanks to us, and while I could see on Dieh’s face a bit of unhappiness over minor mistakes during the process, overall he was pleased. With one success behind us, it was time to move to the next, and it would be another assured success. Two yayi carried the pine plank no longer needed for Sun Bing down from the platform and laid it across the slaughtering rack. My dieh turned to the man watching over the fake Sun Bing and said in a casual manner:

“Unlock the shackles.”

The man removed the heavy chains from the fake Sun Bing’s body, but unlike the real Sun Bing, who had immediately straightened up, this one slumped helplessly to the ground like a wax-softened candle. His face was ashen, his lips as pale as torn paper window covering. Only the whites of his eyes showed, a pair of tiny moth eggs. He was dragged up to the slaughtering rack, and when they let go of him, he crumpled to the ground like a pile of mud.

My dieh told them to lift him onto the plank atop the slaughtering rack, where he lay flat on his belly, twitching uncontrollably. Dieh signaled for me to strap him down, which I managed to do expertly. Then, without waiting to be told, I cut open his trousers with my paring knife; but when I pulled them back to expose his backside——Aiya! Would you believe it!——a horrible stench rose up from the bastard’s crotch——he’d shit his pants!

Dieh frowned as he placed the sandalwood stake just below the fake Sun Bing’s tailbone; I picked up my oily mallet and stepped forward. But before I could raise it for the first strike, an even more disgusting smell assaulted me. I threw down the mallet and backed off, holding my nose, like a dog assailed by the rotten smell of a skunk. Dieh called out in a stern, deep voice:

“Come back here, Xiaojia!”

The summons reawakened my sense of responsibility; I stopped backing up and, in a roundabout fashion, headed toward him. The fake Sun Bing’s insides were probably a pile of mush by now. Normal excrement didn’t smell that scary bad. Now what? Dieh was still holding the stake in place, waiting for me to start pounding, while I was wondering what would come out of his backside once the stake entered his body. Dieh had emphasized over and over the importance of what we were doing that day, and I knew I’d have to put that mallet to use even if he fired bullets out of his ass. Truth is, the smell that emerged from his asshole was worse than bullets could possibly have been. I took a tentative step forward despite the vomit rising into my throat. Show me some mercy, Dieh! If you make me follow through with this execution, I’m afraid I’ll die of suffocation before the stake pokes out from between his shoulders.

Well, the heavens came to my rescue. At that crucial moment, Yuan Shikai, who looked like he was about to fall asleep up on the stage, ordered that Xiao Shanzi, originally sentenced to die by the sandalwood death, be beheaded instead. Dieh wasted no time tossing the sandalwood stake to one side; holding his breath and scowling, he unsheathed the sword at the waist of the nearest yayi, took several quick steps, looking more energetic than his years, raised the sword, and created a shining downward arc; before anyone could so much as blink, the head of the real Xiao Shanzi, the fake Sun Bing, lay on the ground beneath the slaughtering rack.

Meow
——

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

     
Sandalwood grows deep in the hills; its blood red flowers bloom in the fall,

     
Champion of trees and hero of the forest, it stands the tallest of all.

     
People say that red lips open softly, a song of beauty their goal,

     
Song of the phoenix, murmurs of the swallow, cry of the oriole.

     
People say that maidens throw fruit at the young man with cheeks like a rose,

     
Graced with a tender visage, until his cart overflows.

     
People say that sandalwood clappers produce a crisp new sound,

     
In the performance of the Pear Garden actors peace and prosperity abound.

     
People say that a parade of sandalwood chariots by warhorses pulled,

     
Moonlight of the Qin, soldiers of the Han, by emperors ruled.

     
People say that Zhuge Liang’s Empty City Strategy came to jell,

     
While playing a lute amid the lingering sandalwood smell.

     
People say that Tanyue befriended Buddhism in his style of living,

     
And escaped the karma of poverty by good deeds and giving.

     
But who has ever seen sandalwood used to impale a man?

     
In the dying days of dynasty, a wicked punishment inhumane!

—
Maoqiang
Sandalwood Death.
A noble air

————

1

————

When Xiao Shanzi’s head fell to the ground, the sun turned from white to red. As he picked it up, I knew that the dignified look Zhao Jia wore was false—Disgusting! Nauseating! That son of a bitch, no better than a pig or a dog, raised Xiao Shanzi’s bloody head high in the air and announced to me:

“May it please Your Honor, the execution has been carried out!”

My mind was a tangle of confusing thoughts. A curtain of red fog rose before my eyes as thunderous bursts of cannon fire rang in my ears. The stench of blood was everywhere, such a foul, repulsive smell, one that has already infiltrated the doomed Qing Court. Am I abandoning you, or will I be buried with you? Not knowing what to do, I vacillate, I hesitate; everywhere I look, there is nothing but desolation. There is evidence that the Empress Dowager has fled with His Majesty to Taiyuan. Peking has become a city of wild savagery; the sacred halls of the Imperial Palace have been turned into the playground of the willful Eight-Power Allied Forces. An Imperial Court that brought the capital to its knees now exists in name only, does it not? But Yuan Shikai, Excellency Yuan, has taken from the Imperial Treasury tens of thousands of silver ingots to form and train a cohort of crack troops, not to defend the capital against invaders and protect royalty, but to join forces with the foreign demons to crush my loyal Shandong countrymen. The wolf’s ambition is abundantly clear, his designs known to all, as were those of the Three Kingdoms usurper Sima Zhao. Even urchins in shantytowns sing a ditty: “The Qing is no more, swept away; Yuan has become the Cao Cao of his day.” Ah, Great Qing, breeding tigers only courts disaster; ah, Yuan Shikai, you harbored treacherous thoughts. You have slaughtered my citizens to safeguard foreigners’ rights of passage. You have purchased the favors of the Allies with the people’s blood. Backed by a powerful army, you sit back and wait to see what will happen, confident in your ability to maneuver. The fate of the Great Qing Empire now rests in your hands. Empress Dowager, Your Majesty, have You come to Your senses? Have You? If You still see him as the defender of the people in their peril, then the three-hundred-year foundation on which the dynasty has stood will crumble in an instant. When I examine my own conscience, I find that I too am not the loyal official I thought I was. I lack the faith and the allegiance to die for a righteous cause, to pick up a knife and end the life of that treacherous official, even though I have studied the classics and the martial arts since childhood. The actor Sun Bing is braver than I, the beggar Xiao Shanzi more loyal. I am a cringing coward, a weakling given to making concessions. At times strong passion surges in my chest; at other times I am torn between opposing wills. Caution is my watchword; my appearance is but a deceptive mask. I swagger around the common people, but treat my superiors and foreigners to flattery and obsequious smiles. I am a petty, shameless toady to those above and a tyrant to those below. Hopeless coward Gaomi County Magistrate Qian Ding, though breath remains in your body, you are a walking corpse. Even Xiao Shanzi, who shit his pants from fear just before he died, was three thousand times the man you are. Since you are bereft of a heroic spirit, live on like the running dog you are. Benumb yourself, and, as a dog, carry out your duties as official in charge of the execution. By refocusing my eyes, I looked closely at the head the executioner Zhao Jia was holding as he made his boastful announcement, and understood what was expected of me at that moment. I walked quickly over to the opera stage, where I flicked my sleeves, raised the hem of my robe, and saluted by going down on one knee before reporting to that traitor and thug loudly: