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

two years in the capital in a minor government office, then bribed his way into a provincial assignment. He had served as Magistrate before, first in Guangdong’s Dianbai County, and then in Sichuan’s Fushun County, the latter being the birthplace of Liu Guangdi. Both Dianbai and Fushun were remote, inaccessible locales with barren mountains and untamed rivers; the people led such impoverished, wretched lives that even had he aspired to be a corrupt official, there was no grease to skim. And so, for his third posting, he came to Gaomi, where access was convenient and riches abounded. While it was a lateral appointment, in his eyes it was a promotion. A man of spirited aspirations and robust vitality, he had a radiantly ruddy face, eyebrows like sleeping silkworms, and a gaze that had the quality of lacquer; every strand in his beard was as thick as horsehair and long enough to touch the desktop behind which he sat. An impressive beard represented half of what it took to gain credibility among the governed. His colleagues were fond of teasing him: “Elder Brother Qian,” they would say, “if the Old Buddha Herself were to lay eyes on you, at the very least you would be posted as a Circuit Magistrate.” Unfortunately, there had been no opportunity to display his dignified demeanor in the Imperial presence, and as he sat at his mirror combing out his beard, he could only sigh and lament, “What a shame that this face, with its dignified appearance, and this fine, ethereal beard are ill regarded at Court!”
    On the long journey from Sichuan to take up his new post in Shandong, he had stopped at a small temple on the Yellow River in Shaanxi to draw a divination lot, and was rewarded with great good tidings. The inscribed poem read: “Should the bream reach the western Yangtze, thunder will rend the sky.” This tally swept away the deep-seated depression that had accompanied his career failures, and instilled in him confidence and high hopes. Upon his arrival in the county, despite being fatigued and covered with dust after a long journey, not to mention suffering from symptoms of a minor cold, he set right to work. After receiving the symbols of office from his predecessor, he summoned his subordinates to the audience hall, where he spoke to them for the first time. Splendid words flowing from a cheerful frame of mind gushed from his mouth. His predecessor had been a simple-minded dolt who could not string three simple sentences together. He, on the other hand, had a full-throated, richly seductive voice that at this moment was enhanced by a slightly nasal tone caused by the cold. The looks in the eyes of the listeners arrayed below him signaled success. When his speech was finished, he stroked his impressive beard with his thumb and forefinger and announced an end to the formal audience. His gaze then swept across the faces of the gathered functionaries, each of whom felt that the honorable Magistrate was looking only at him. The enigmatic look in those eyes seemed to include equal parts warning and encouragement. He then stood, turned, and walked out of the hall, a neat, orderly departure, like a breath of fresh air.
    Soon afterward, at a banquet for local worthies, his handsome demeanor and impressive beard were once again the focus of attention for all who were present. The nasal obstruction had cleared up, and Gaomi County’s local specialty, aged millet spirits, and fatty dog meat—the spirits relaxed his muscles and joints and enhanced the flow of blood, while the fatty dog meat improved his looks—made his face glow with conspicuous health and lent increased elegance to his beard. He offered a toast in a cadenced voice, announcing to his elite guests that he was determined to use his office to enrich the lives of the local population. His speech was interrupted frequently by thunderous applause and shouts of approval, and when he had finished, the ovation lasted until the incense sticks had burned halfway down. He then raised his glass to all the skullcaps and goatees at the table. The men’s legs trembled when they stood; their hands shook and their lips quaked as they emptied their glasses. The Magistrate then called their attention to one of the dishes—a head of cabbage a vivid emerald green that gave no sign of being cooked. None of the guests dared touch the spectacular dish with his chopsticks for fear of making a fool of himself. “Worthy gentlemen,” the Magistrate said, “not only is