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

said, “But I cannot give you up.” Then, in the style of a Maoqiang actor, he sang, “This official is in dire straits~~” “When did you learn how to sing Maoqiang? Who was your teacher, my dear man of the hour?” “If wisdom you wish to reap, then with a teacher you must sleep,” he said roguishly as he patted me on the buttocks as a prelude to more singing, this time in the style of my dieh, and remarkably similar: “The sky turns yellow as the sun sinks in the west, a tiger runs into the hills, a bird returns to its nest. Only this county boss has nowhere to hide, and must sit in his hall, loneliness to abide~~” “What sort of loneliness must you abide when you have me keeping you company in bed?” Instead of answering me, he turned my buttocks into a cat drum, pounding out a rhythmic, sonorous beat as he continued to sing: “I have been a parched seedling sprinkled with dew, ever since the day I first met you.” “You are forever trying to sweet-talk me,” I said, “me, a village woman who sells dog meat for a living. What good is someone like that?” “Your virtues know no end~~in the heat of summer you are ice, in the depths of winter I’m warmed by the flames you send. Your greatest virtue is how you slake my thirst, till I sweat from every pore and my aging joints once again can bend. To lie in bed with the Sun mistress in my arms surpasses the immortals with their heavenly charms~~” As his song came to an end, he laid me down and covered my face with his beard, as if it were a fanned-out horse’s tail. “Gandieh, ah, the words go:
    “Flowers planted will not bloom, stick a willow branch in the ground and give it room. We could not have guessed that our conjugal bliss that day would plant the precious seeds of a dragon child. I was ready to reveal glad tidings when~~Heaven help me~~you arrested my dieh to impale him on a stake defiled~~”
    I watched as the country squires led by Licentiate Shan moved toward the contingent of wolfish soldiers, whose eyes widened as they held their rifles in both hands, parallel to the ground. At that point, all but the licentiate slowed down and, as if stepping on eggshells or mired in mud, stopped moving altogether. Little by little, Licentiate Shan separated himself from the crowd, like the leader of a bird formation, but one who left the flock frozen in place behind him. When he passed beneath the Education Memorial Archway, he was met by the sound of rifles being slapped into readiness. The country squires cowered behind the archway, but Licentiate Shan stood fast before it. I tore free of the crowd of women and ran to the archway, where I fell to my knees in front of the craven men and behind Licentiate Shan and howled, startling them all. As they turned to gawk at me, I appealed as if chanting on stage: “Revered elders, respected uncles, honorable shopkeepers, worthy squires, hear my plea. I, Sun Bing’s daughter, Sun Meiniang, kowtow to you and beg you to come to my dieh’s rescue. He was forced into rebelling by another. Everyone knows that even a rabbit will bite in defense, a truth that surely applies to a courageous, upright man who abides by the cardinal guides and constant virtues, a defender of ceremony and propriety. He fomented rebellion among the masses for the benefit of all. Good masters, good uncles, good squires, I beg you, do the merciful thing, for his life is in your hands.”
    In the midst of my tears and pleas, I saw Licentiate Shan, a towering man, lift up the hem of his robe, take two or three steps forward, and fall to his knees at the feet of the soldiers. I knew he was kneeling not out of respect for them, but for the county yamen and for Magistrate Qian Ding, my gandieh Qian Laoye.
    Oh, Gandieh, Meiniang’s belly swells, the birth of our precious son it foretells. He is the issue of your mighty seed and will carry on the family line. If not for the monk, then for the Buddha himself, come set my dieh free from the condemned cells.
    Now that Licentiate Shan was kneeling, the gentlemen behind him did the same, until the street was a sea of bowed black heads. He took a rolled-up document out from under his robe, opened it with both hands, and, in a loud voice, read each of the words written there:
    “Sun Bing caused an incident, but not without reason. When his wife and daughter were abused, his wrath surfaced. He led a rebellion, but on behalf of the common people. His crimes do not warrant the penalty of death,