The Corpse Reader (27 page)

All the shutters were closed, so it was mostly dark, and as he waited for his eyes to adjust he noticed the strong smell of mold. He went into the empty living room and headed for Feng’s private chambers, dumbfounded by the ghostly layer of cobwebs and dust.

A noise from behind him made him jump. He turned and caught another glimpse of the figure running from one room to
another. Grabbing a piece of bamboo, he advanced slowly in the dark. Then he heard a scraping sound just a few steps away and stopped to listen. Suddenly, whoever it was tried to rush past him. He tried to intercept the figure, but it kicked him in the shin and he fell over. As he got up, hands were on him, trying to attack him, but the person was weak, and when he grabbed the hands, the skin was soft and dry.

The figure screeched terrifyingly—yes, a woman. He dragged her toward the window and opened the shutters. In the misty morning light, he saw that it was an old, bony woman dressed in a grubby sack. Her wide-open eyes showed she was just as terrified as he. She pleaded with him not to hit her and swore that she hadn’t stolen anything. He asked what she was doing in Feng’s home, and though at first she didn’t answer, when he shook her by the shoulders she told him she’d been alone there for months.

This was believable; beneath the nest of white hair, her skin showed the ravages of old age and hunger. And her frightened eyes didn’t lie. All of a sudden they opened wider still.

“By the gods!” she said. “Cí! Can it really be you?”

He knew those bright eyes: they were those of Gentle Heart, former head servant in Feng’s house. The dirt and the wrinkles disappeared as he saw the woman he used to know so well. They embraced each other, and she burst into tears.

Cí remembered that toward the end of his time working with Feng, Gentle Heart had started to become senile. But Feng had kept her on, as far as Cí knew. She had still been there when Cí’s grandfather died.

Through her tears she told Cí that she’d left Feng’s service when “that woman” showed up.

“What woman?” asked Cí.

“The evil woman. Beautiful, yes, but she never looked you in the eye.” Gentle Heart gesticulated wildly, as if tracing the woman
on the air in front of them. She looked off into the darkness, as if she were still seeing everything that had happened. “She brought new servants. And bad luck.”

“But where have they all gone?”

“It’s just me. I hide away…but sometimes they appear in the dark, and they talk to me…” Once again, her eyes filled with terror. “Who are you? Why are you holding me?” She pushed Cí and backed away.

She turned back into a hunched, delirious bundle of rags. He tried to calm her, but she turned and ran off into the house as if devils were after her.

Poor woman. One foot in the house of spirits.

He tried to find clues to what had happened, but there were only the bits and pieces of rubbish accumulated by Gentle Heart. The place clearly had been abandoned a long while ago. Cí thought it strange that Feng hadn’t said anything the last time they saw each other.

By the time he left, it had started to rain. On his way back to the houseboat there was a downpour, and he had to take cover at the slave market. Under an awning, he grew extremely cold, and desperation took over. His very last option—Feng—had disappeared. Feng could still be on his journey in the North, or he might even have established himself in another city. Cí had no way of knowing. Money for Third’s medicine, work, a place to stay: all were things Cí desperately needed. A group of slaves came by, tied together like livestock. They looked pitiful, but they were no worse off than Cí—at least they had food and shelter.

He had to do something. He knew it might be the worst decision he’d ever made, but he ran through the pouring rain all the way to the Fields of Death.

He found Xu working on a coffin. He didn’t seem surprised to see Cí, and he didn’t stop what he was doing.

“You look like a drowned chicken. Get out of those clothes and come help me with this.”

“I need money,” said Cí.

“Don’t we all!”

“I need it now. Third is so sick…she’s nearing death.”

“I know. It happens—look around!”

Cí grabbed Xu and was about to hit him, but he let him go. Xu brushed himself off and went back to what he’d been doing,

“How much would you pay for me?”

Xu dropped his tools and looked at Cí. Yes, Cí said, he wanted to sell himself as a slave. Xu snorted.

“Ten thousand
qián
. That’s the best I can do.”

Cí knew he could have bartered with Xu, but he was utterly drained—drained from all the nights listening to Third’s coughing and cries, drained from trying to find solutions. What did it matter now? He was trapped, barely alive. Exhausted. And he accepted Xu’s offer.

Xu got up and went for paper to draw up the contract. He licked the brush and hastily scratched something out, then called to the gardener to come and act as witness. He handed the sheet of paper to Cí to sign.

“It has the essential points. You’ll render me all services, and you’ll belong to me until you die. Here, here. Sign it.”

“The money first.”

“I’ll give it to you at the boat.”

“I’ll sign once I see the money.”

Grudgingly, Xu agreed, then put Cí to work assembling coffins. Xu began singing a song, an accompaniment to the best bit of luck he’d had in years.

They started back to the houseboat halfway through the afternoon.

Xu walked with a spring in his step, singing the same melody over and over. Cí dragged his feet, head bowed, aware that everything he’d ever dreamed of was vanishing. He tried to banish these thoughts by focusing on Third and the hope that now, finally, she could be cured. He’d buy her the best medicine, and she’d grow up to be a beautiful, healthy woman. This was his one remaining dream.

But still, as they came closer to the docks, his mood remained dark.

The houseboat came into sight, and Xu’s wives were on the jetty, screaming at them to hurry. Cí flew toward them, jumped onto the deck, and ducked straight into the little shelter where Third rested when she felt ill. Cí cried out, but he didn’t see her.

He whirled around. At the back of the space, next to a container of fish, lay Third’s small, worn-out body. He covered her with a blanket—quiet, pale, sleeping forevermore.

At the burial, Cí felt that a part of him was being nailed inside the small coffin along with his beloved sister. And the other parts of him—blasted and messy—though they might be sewn back together again, would never shine as before. His spirit was in a worse place than his body, and it was as if the burns that disfigured him had become internal. They were painful, and he had no way of soothing them.

He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. First his other sisters, then his brother and parents, and now the little one.

The only other person at the funeral was Xu. He waited outside, and when Cí came back to the cart they’d hired to transport the coffin, Xu was impatient. Cí hadn’t even finished arranging the flowers for the small grave, and Xu wanted to talk about the contract. He’d brought it with him. Cí turned on him, taking the piece of paper and tearing it up. Xu didn’t bat an eyelid. He crouched down and began picking up the torn pieces.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sign it?” he asked, smiling. “Do you really think I’m going to let such a good piece of business escape, just like that?”

Cí glared at him. He began walking off.

“Whoa!” shouted Xu. “Where do you think you’re going? Think you’ll survive in this city without me? You’re nothing but a beggar with airs.”

Cí exploded. “Where am I going? Anywhere you’re not! You and your greed. I’m going to the Ming Academy.” No sooner had he finished speaking than he regretted saying that much.

“Oh, really? But you do know that if you try to go, I’ll go straight to that sheriff who was after you, right? And I’ll go out whoring with the reward money, stopping by your bitch little sister’s grave to piss on it—”

He was interrupted by a hard punch in the face; the next blow dislodged some teeth. Cí stood back. Xu spat bloodily on the ground and then smiled up at Cí.

“Listen: you’ll work with me, or not at all.”

“No,
you
listen! Put your stupid disguise on and scratch together whatever living you want. You’re enough of a trickster to fool a few people yet. But if I ever find out you’ve spoken to Kao about me, you can be sure the whole city will know about your fraud business. And that’ll be the end of you. And if I find out you’ve come anywhere near my sister’s grave, I’ll break you in two and, I swear, I’ll eat your heart.”

He dropped one last flower on Third’s grave and went down the cemetery’s hill.

It was raining and he was soaked to the bone, but he dawdled in the streets anyway. He spent the whole morning walking the same maze of alleys, head bowed, going over and over the question: Was it really worth it to go to the academy? If it would never bring back Third, or his mother or father, was there really any point?

Leaning back against a pillar, he became lost for a long time in a swirl of images, all of his family. They were never coming back.