Sandalwood Death: A Novel (Chinese Literature Today Book Series)

water. Filled with excitement, they clambered out of bed bright-eyed and spoke in hushed tones. First Aunt assisted me into a large tub to bathe, Second Aunt dried me off, and Third Aunt helped me get dressed. We had rescued this youngster, with his fair complexion and nicely chiseled features, a boy who managed everything he touched with clever assurance, from the life of a beggar, and he treated me like a filial son. The joy he felt flowed from his eyes. All my apprentices enjoyed a shared sense of joy that morning. When auspicious things happened to their shifu, they reaped benefits, and I could see that their good feelings were heartfelt, with no hint of pretense.
    “Don’t be too quick to celebrate,” I said, “for we do not know whether this news is good or bad.”
    “It’s good,” Third Aunt insisted. “I know it is!”
    “Your shifu is getting on in years,” I said with a sigh, “and the slightest slip could cost him his head . . .”
    “That cannot happen,” First Aunt said. “Old ginger is the spiciest. Besides, Grandma carried out an execution on the Palace grounds decades ago.”
    I had assumed that another Palace eunuch had committed a crime and that I was being summoned to carry out his execution. But I could not dismiss the feeling that something was different. Back when I was apprenticed to Grandma Yu and assigned the responsibility of putting Little Insect to death with Yama’s Hoop, the Palace had spelled out our duties well ahead of time and had said nothing about bathing or eating a modest breakfast beforehand. But if this was not about plying my trade, what possible reason could there be for summoning an executioner? Could it be . . . could it be my turn to go on the chopping block? In a state of agitation, I ate half a meat-stuffed wheat cake, brushed my teeth with roasted salt, and rinsed my mouth with fresh water. I walked outside, where I saw that the constellation Orion had moved a bit to the west, though the fourth watch had not yet been announced—it was still early. So I engaged my apprentices in conversation until I heard a rooster’s crow. “Better early than late,” I said. “Let’s go.” So, escorted by my apprentices, I arrived at the entrance to the Bureau of Detentions.
    Though the weather in the capital on that early day of the second month was still quite cold, I wore only a lined jacket under my official clothes in order not to appear frail. But my teeth chattered under the onslaught of the chilled early morning winds, and I instinctively tucked my neck down into my shoulders. There was a sudden change in the sky, which turned pitch-black and seemed to light up the stars. We waited an hour, until the fifth watch was announced, when the sky turned a fish-belly gray and the city and its outskirts began to stir. The city gate creaked open to welcome in water wagons that groaned under their heavy loads. Then a horse-drawn carriage rumbled quickly into the compound, preceded by a pair of servants carrying red lanterns, the shades stamped with the black character “TIE,” which told us that Excellency Tie had arrived. The servants pulled back the protective curtain to allow Excellency Tie, a fur coat over his shoulders, to step down. His servants moved the carriage to the side of the road as His Excellency walked my way with faltering steps. I greeted him with a respectful salute. He coughed, spat out a mouthful of phlegm, and looked me over.
    “Old Zhao,” he said, “limitless blessings have been bestowed on you.”
    “I am unworthy and can only throw myself at Your Excellency’s feet.”
    “Once you are inside, answer with care, saying only what is expected of you.” His eyes sparkled in the dim light.
    “I understand.”
    “You others may leave now,” he said to my apprentices. “Rare good fortune has arrived for your shifu.”
    My apprentices departed, leaving only me and Excellency Tie standing in front of the Bureau of Detentions. His servants stayed with the carriage, lanterns now extinguished. I heard the sound of horses eating feed in the darkness; its fragrance carried all the way over to me—it was, I detected, a mix of fried soybeans and rice straw.
    “Excellency, what do you want me to . . .”
    “Keep your mouth shut,” he said coldly. “If I were you, I would not say a word except in response to questions by the Empress Dowager or the Emperor.”
    Could it really be . . .
    When I stepped out of the small, canopied palanquin