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

not sell such fine items?”
    “All I can say is . . .” The proprietor stumbled over his words, apparently trying to screw up the courage to say what was on his mind. “Laoye is probably aware that the finest millet spirits and dog’s legs in town are supplied by Sun Meiniang. We cannot compete with her . . .”
    Heated millet spirits, fragrant dog meat, scenes of the past in my head repeat . . .
    “What do you sell?”
    “To answer Laoye, we sell Baigar and Erwotou sorghum spirits, baked sesame cakes, and stewed beef.”
    “Then bring me two liang of Baigar, one jiao of the beef, plus two hot sesame cakes.”
    “Right away, Laoye,” the man said as he disappeared around back.
    The Gaomi Magistrate sits in a shop, his thoughts running apace, and all he can think of is Meiniang’s lovely face. She possesses what it takes to create stirrings of love, like water for frolicking fish, or nectar for honeybees, weaving soft romantic lace . . .
    After he placed my order in front of me, I dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “I’ll pour my own today,” I said as I picked up the bottle and filled a green cup to the brim. The first spicy cupful brought a pleasant sensation as it slid down my throat; the second heated cupful made me slightly woozy; and the third turbid cupful made me sigh and sent tears streaming down my cheeks. I drank and I ate, I ate and I drank, and when I’d eaten and drunk my fill, I said to the proprietor, “Make out a bill for what I’ve had. I’ll send someone over to pay in a day or two.”
    “The mere presence of Laoye has brought great fortune to this establishment.”
    I walked out, so light on my feet that I felt as if I were strolling amid the clouds and mist.
    ————
    6
    ————
    A yayi roused me out of bed on the morning of the fourth day. The effects of the alcohol had abated but not gone away. I was still in a fog and suffering from a headache; I could barely recall what had happened yesterday, which seemed so long ago. I staggered over to the parade ground, blinding sunlight auguring yet another fine day. Sun Bing’s steady, seemingly happy moans filtered down to me from the Ascension Platform, and I knew that he was holding up well. The duty yayi, Liu Pu, scampered down off the platform and, with a furtive look, said:
    “Laoye . . .”
    I followed the line he was pointing with his chin. A group of people had gathered in front of the opera stage. Dressed in colorful clothing, they presented a strange sight. Some had powdered their faces and painted their lips; others had red faces and ears. I saw some with blue faces and golden eyes, and others whose faces were shiny black. My heart lurched as I recalled the opera troupe Sun Bing had led not so long ago. Was it possible that the remnants of his troupe had come together to make their entry into town? The sweat oozing from my pores sobered me up at once. Quickly straightening my clothes and adjusting my cap, I hurried over toward them.
    They had formed a ring around a large red chest on which sat a man who had painted his face with whites and yellows like a faithful and courageous “justice cat.” A big black cat-skin cloak was draped over his shoulders; a cat cap, with ears that stood straight up and were tipped with patches of white fur, rested on his head. Cat cloaks covered others’ shoulders as well, and some in the group wore cat caps. Quiet and solemn, they looked ready to mount the stage and perform. The top of the chest was covered with red-tasseled spears, knives, swords, and halberds, the whole range of stage props. So the Northeast Gaomi Township Maoqiang Troupe had returned. I breathed a sigh of relief. But I had to wonder if they had come to the Ascension Platform solely to put on a performance. Courage and toughness were hallmarks of Northeast Gaomi Township folkways, something of which I had a clear understanding. With its mystical, gloomy nature, Maoqiang opera had the power to drive its spectators into a frenzy, making them lose touch with reality . . . a chill settled over my heart as I envisioned a scene with glinting knives and flashing swords and thought I heard the sound of battle drums and horns.
    “Laoye,” Liu Pu whispered, “I feel something in my bones——”
    “Tell me.”
    “This sandalwood death is major bait, and these Northeast Gaomi Township actors are fish who have come to take the hook.”
    Maintaining a calm demeanor, I smiled and walked toward the actors with