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

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