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Authors: Mo Yan

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #Historical, #Political

Sandalwood Death (68 page)

BOOK: Sandalwood Death
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“We obey Cat Chief’s instructions,” Justice Cat said unflinchingly.

“Are you not afraid of losing your heads?” Pointing in the direction of the yamen, I said in a threatening tone, “Excellency Yuan’s crack troops are stationed in the yamen.” Then I pointed to a compound in the Tongde Academy. “There is where the German cavalry troops are camped. A ceremony to celebrate the completion of the rail line is scheduled for tomorrow, and both the foreign and government soldiers are on full alert. If you stage one of your cat-and-dog operas under their noses, they will treat that as tantamount to a rebellion or a riot.” Finally, I pointed up to Sun Bing. “Is that how the rest of you want to wind up?”

“We are not afraid,” Justice Cat grumbled. “We came to put on a performance, and that is what we are going to do.”

“I have long known that Northeast Gaomi Township residents are fond of performing onstage, and I am a fan of your Maoqiang opera. Why, I can even sing some arias. Maoqiang promotes loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and justice. Teaching people to be reasonable and understanding corresponds exactly with my principles of instruction. I have always supported your performance activities and hold you in high esteem for your deep-seated love of the arts. But not here and not now. I order you to leave. After this is all over, if you desire, I will personally make a formal visit to Northeast County to extend you an invitation to return to stage an opera here.”

“We obey Cat Chief’s instructions,” Justice Cat replied obstinately.

“I am the highest official in this county, and if I say you may not perform, you may not.”

“Not even His Majesty the Emperor has the authority to stop people from performing an opera.”

“Have you never heard the adage ‘Fear not the official, just the office’? Or ‘A Governor lops off a head, a County Magistrate destroys a family’?”

“You can chop our bodies to pieces, but our heads will perform an opera.” Justice Cat got defiantly to his feet and commanded his disciples and followers, “Open the chest, my children.”

The cats picked up weapons from atop the chest, turning their numbers into a traditional opera troupe. They then threw open the mahogany chest and dug out python-decorated robes and jade belts, phoenix caps and embroidered women’s capes, masks and jewelry, gongs and drums and other props . . .

I ordered Liu Pu to hurry over to the Academy and bring back all the off-duty yayi.

“I, your Magistrate, have admonished you as earnestly as I know how, and for your own good. But you have decided to ignore your sympathetic Laoye and go your own way.” I turned to my yayi and pointed to Justice Cat. “Arrest the cat leader,” I said, “and drive the rest of this motley feline crew away with your clubs!”

My yayi began swinging their red-and-black batons amid threatening shouts, though it was really a show of bluff and bluster. Justice Cat dropped to his knees and rent the air with a desolate wail, then began to sing. Seeing him on his knees like that, I assumed that he wanted to plead with me; until, that is, I realized that he was kneeling before Sun Bing, up on the Ascension Platform. I also assumed that the wail was an expression of torment over seeing the Maoqiang Patriarch endure such suffering. Once again I realized my mistake, for the mournful cry was actually a call for the musicians to prepare their instruments, an opening note. A torrent of music burst forth, as if set free by an open floodgate.

Cat Chief~~golden feathers adorn your head purple clouds swath your body you ride a long-maned lion vanquishing foes a pure gold cudgel in hand~~you are the foe of thousands of tens of thousands are the reincarnation of Yue Fei the mortal embodiment of Guan Yu you reign supreme throughout the land~~

Meow~~meow~~

As if by design, all the black-faced cats red-faced cats multihued cats big cats small cats male cats female cats embellished Justice Cat’s cloud-bursting aria with cat cries inserted in all the right places, with perfect timing, all the while reaching into the storage chest to deftly extract gongs and drums and other stage props, including an oversized cat fiddle, each actor expertly adding the sound of his instrument in perfect orchestral fashion.

The first blow topples Taihang Mountain~~reclaims Jiaozhou Bay~~the second blow levels Laizhou Prefecture~~terrifying the ferocious white-headed tiger~~the third blow brings down the mainstay~~takes the Most Exalted Patriarch Lao’s Eight Trigrams Furnace out of play~~

Meow~~meow~~

The performance, filled with music and passion, had an irresistible appeal. Fully half the yayi, all born and raised in the county, were from Northeast Township, and therefore were infatuated with Maoqiang opera, an inbred affinity well beyond the ability of someone like me, an outsider, to comprehend. Despite the fact that I had learned to sing a respectable number of arias, thanks to Sun Meiniang, Maoqiang opera simply did not affect me the way it did Gaomi residents, whose eyes could fill with rapturous tears. Almost immediately I sensed that this was no ordinary performance, and that Justice Cat was a singer of virtually peerless caliber. His voice had that classical raspy Maoqiang timbre and the ability to reach a pitch beyond an aria’s highest note, a quality peculiar to Maoqiang and mastered throughout the genre’s history only by the progenitor, Chang Mao, and the Patriarch, Sun Bing. When Sun Bing took his leave from the stage, even Meiniang believed that he was the last in a line of actors on whom that talent had been bestowed. But then, out of nowhere, this consummate skill had been reborn in the person of the Justice Cat. I would be the first to admit that the quality of his singing was nothing less than brilliant, easily worthy of expression in the most refined surroundings. I could tell that my men, including the unusually competent and clear-headed Liu Pu, were mesmerized by what they were hearing. Their eyes shone, their lips were parted; they no longer knew where they were, and it was clear that before long they would be crying out meows along with those cat figures, and might even start rolling around on the ground, climbing walls, and shinnying up trees, until this pitiless execution site turned into a paradise for cat-calling, a menagerie of dancing. Feeling helpless, I had no idea how to bring this to a close, especially when I saw that the yayi guarding the Ascension Platform were equally distracted, frozen in place. From a spot just outside the opening of the shack, Sun Meiniang added her sobs to the singing, and Zhao Xiaojia had turned wild with joy. His dieh had to grab hold of his clothes to keep him from running over to join in. From all appearances, Zhao Jia’s long absence from his hometown had insulated him from the noxious influence of Maoqiang; able to keep a cool head in the midst of all that ferment, he remained focused on his heavy responsibility. As for Sun Bing, while I could not see his face clearly through the gauzy curtain, the sound he was making—it could have been a cry, it could have been muted laughter—told me everything I needed to know about how he was holding up.

Justice Cat sang and danced, the wide sleeves of his robe swirling in the air like puffy white clouds as his meaty tail swept the ground. His effect on everyone around him as he sang and danced was profound—demonic and infectious, soul captivating and bewitching; he climbed up to the Ascension Platform, one casual step after another, and the other cats followed his lead. Thus was the curtain raised on a grand and spectacular performance.

————

7

————

Cats were at the center of the disastrous turn of events. With cat attire fluttering in the air above the platform and cat music rising from below, my thoughts carried me back to when I first laid eyes on Sun Meiniang. On a trip to one of the county villages to apprehend gamblers, my small palanquin was carried onto a stone-paved street in the county town. It was a late spring day, with a fine rain ushering in dusk earlier than usual. Shops on both sides of the street had closed for the day; puddles of water filling spaces between the stones reflected the light. The silence on the deserted street was broken only by my bearers’ watery footfalls. A slight chill in the air created feelings of melancholy. Frogs croaking in a nearby pond reminded me of tadpoles I’d seen swimming in puddles among green sprouts of wheat, and that made the melancholy even worse. I wanted to have the bearers speed up to facilitate an early return to the yamen, where I could make myself a cup of hot tea and peruse some of the classics. The only thing lacking was a lovely young woman to keep me company. My wife was the daughter of an illustrious family, a woman of noble nature and high moral character. But where relations between a man and a woman were concerned, she was as cold as ice and frost. I promised her that I would not take a concubine, but I must admit that the bleak bedroom atmosphere had tested my patience. I was in a terrible mood at that moment, when the sound of a door opening onto the street drew my attention. A public-house sign hung above the open doorway, from which emerged the tantalizing odors of strong spirits and meat. A young woman all in white was standing beside the door filling the air with rude talk, though the sound of her voice was pleasantly crisp. Then a dark object came flying my way and hit my palanquin.

“You damned greedy cat, I’ll kill you!”

A wild feline tore across the street and huddled under the eaves of a house, where it licked its whiskers and kept its eye trained across the way.

“How dare you!” my lead bearer fumed. “Are you blind? You actually struck Laoye’s personal flag!”

The woman bowed in hasty contrition and immediately changed her tone of voice, sending sweet apologies my way. Even through the curtain I could see that she was a woman who knew how to flirt and was taken by the flash of coquettish beauty against the darkening sky. Unfamiliar feelings rose up inside me. “What is sold in that shop?” I asked the lead bearer.

“This shop’s dog meat and millet spirits are the finest in town, Your Honor. The woman’s name is Sun Meiniang, known locally as ‘Dog-Meat Xishi.’”

“Stop here,” I said. “You have here a hungry and cold Magistrate. I believe I will step inside and warm myself with a bowl of heated millet spirits.”

Liu Pu leaned over and whispered:

“Laoye, there is a popular adage that ‘A man of high standing does not enter a lowly establishment.’ I urge you not to honor a roadside shop like this with your presence. I humbly submit that you would be better off returning to the yamen without delay, so as not to worry the First Lady.”

“Even His Majesty the Emperor sometimes travels incognito to gauge the public mood,” I said. “I am a mere County Magistrate, far from high standing, so what harm can there be in drinking a bowl when I’m thirsty and eating rice when I’m hungry?”

The bearers set down the chair in front of the shop; Sun Meiniang rushed up and got down on her knees as I stepped to the ground.

“I beg Laoye’s forgiveness,” she said. “This common woman deserves death. That greedy cat tried to steal a fish, and in my haste I flung it into Laoye’s palanquin. I beg your forgiveness . . .”

I offered her my hand. “Please get up, Elder Sister, for an unwitting error does not constitute a crime. I have forgotten it already. I have left my palanquin with the intent of partaking of some food and drink in your establishment. May I follow you inside?”

Sun Meiniang stood up, bowed a second time, and said:

“I thank Laoye for such magnanimity! Magpies sang at my door this morning, but I never thought my good fortune would arrive in the person of Laoye. Come in, please. Your party is welcome as well.” Sun Meiniang ran out into the street to retrieve the fish, which she flung in the direction of the wild cat without a second glance. “This is your reward, you greedy cat, for bringing an honored guest to our shop.”

With speed and agility, Sun Meiniang lit lanterns and trimmed the candlewicks, then polished the tables and chairs till they shone. That done, she heated a jug of spirits and brought out a plate of dog meat, setting it down on the table in front of me. Her beauty was made even more striking in the muted light, so lovely was she that waves of carnal desire undulated in my heart. My retainers’ eyes lit up like will-o’-the wisps, a reminder that I must commit no breach of moral behavior. Keeping my restless heart in check, I managed to climb back into my palanquin afterward and return to the yamen, accompanied by the image of Sun Meiniang.

The pounding of gongs and drums, the squeal of a cat fiddle, and the raised voices were like a flock of birds passing overhead. At first, local residents moved cautiously into the square in twos and threes, then in small clusters, making their way up to the opera stage on the Academy parade ground. By the looks of it, they had already forgotten that an unimaginably cruel punishment had been meted out on this spot, had forgotten that a man impaled on a sandalwood stake was at that moment suffering on the Ascension Platform across from where they stood. A risqué opera was in progress on the stage in front of them, the story of a soldier taking liberties with the lovely daughter of an innkeeper. It was a comforting sight for me, since Sun Bing’s anti-German lyrics had all been sung, and if Excellency Yuan were to turn up to watch the performance, he would find nothing to object to.

     
What will you have to drink, honorable soldier?

     
I want some Daughter’s Red fresh from the vat.

     
We have no Daughter’s Red.

     
Elder Sister has a lovely smell.

     
What will you have to eat, honorable soldier?

     
Slice some Heavenly Phoenix for me to try.

     
We have no Heavenly Phoenix.

     
Elder Sister, you are Golden Phoenix

     
. . .

Up on the stage, amorous glances from the innkeeper’s alluring daughter created an erotic atmosphere below. Each bit of repartee was like the shedding of clothing, one garment at a time. This was a standard opening drama in the Maoqiang repertoire, loved by the young for its lively irreverence. I was well into my middle years, graying at the temples, but was I immune to amorous thoughts? No, the steamy scene on the stage reminded me of how Sun Meiniang had sung snatches of this kind of play for me in the yamen’s Western Parlor
~~Meiniang, oh, Meiniang, how often you transported the soul of this Magistrate~~baring your jade-like form, wearing only cat clothing as you frolicked on my bed and cavorted atop my body~~by brushing your hand across your face, you presented to me the spirited face of a lovely kitten~~your body taught me that no animal in the world has more natural charm than a cat~~when you licked my skin with your scarlet tongue, I felt as if I had died and been spirited to the land of immortals, as if my heart had been butted out of my body~~oh, Meiniang, if your gandieh’s mouth were big enough, he would wrap it around you, all of you~~

BOOK: Sandalwood Death
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