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

behind the screen.
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    5
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    The battle of the beards was to take place in the spacious courtyard between the yamen’s main and secondary gates. Wanting not to make it too grand an affair, Magistrate Qian invited fewer than twenty of the county’s most renowned members of the local gentry as spectators and witnesses. But word of the battle between His Eminence and Sun Bing spread like wildfire, and by that morning, crowds of commoners had already gathered at the yamen gate, eager to get in on the fun. The earliest arrivals, always awestruck by the power and prestige of the yamen, kept their distance from the site, but as more and more people came, pushes and shoves moved the crowd closer to the gate. Crowds sometimes fall beyond the law. Commoners, who on most days would not dare even to look up as they passed by the yamen gate, now elbowed the gate guards out of the way and spilled into the yard as if a dam had burst. A mass of humanity quickly filled the spacious yard, while even more people arrived to take their place beyond the gate. Adventurous and unruly youngsters went so far as to climb trees and sit on the perimeter wall.
    Invited members of the local gentry were seated on catalpa wood benches arranged in a polygonal circle, looking as if they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. They were joined by the Judicial Secretary, the Revenue Clerk, and scribes from the Six Boards. Arrayed in a circle behind them were yayi whose job it was to keep the gawkers from surging forward. Smack in the middle of the circle stood two large tubs of clear water. The principals had not yet arrived. Sweaty, oily faces gave evidence of growing anxiety. Young children, like slippery loaches, were wreaking havoc in the crowd with their erratic movements, pressing against the phalanx of yayi and throwing them off balance, like cornstalks bent before a raging flood. Most of the time these men were a ferocious, threatening lot, but on this day they seemed well disposed to the local residents. This strange and unique contest would actually create an unprecedented cordial relationship between the people and those who governed them. Then one of the benches was overturned by the crush of people, sending its occupant, a tall member of the gentry, jumping to safety. He stood there, water pipe in hand, staring cross-eyed at the crowd, his head cocked to the side like a puzzled rooster. Then a fat man with a long white beard fell to the ground, where he began crawling like a rooting pig, managing to get back on his feet only with considerable effort. As he brushed mud off of his silk gown, he filled the air with hoarse curses until his face puffed up like a red mass of dough right out of the oven. One of the yayi was shoved down onto a bench so hard that he injured his ribcage. He screamed like a stuck pig until his fellow yayi rescued him from his misery. The individual in charge of the yayi, Liu Pu, a young man with a gaunt face and dark skin, stood on one of the benches and, in a lilting Sichuan accent, made a friendly announcement:
    “Please don’t push and shove, fellow townsmen. Lives are at stake.”
    Midway through the morning, the stars of the show made their entrance. Magistrate Qian strode grandly down the steps of the Great Hall and entered the yard through the secondary gate. Bright sunlight lit up his face as he greeted the spectators with a wave of his hand. Smiling broadly, he displayed a mouth full of spotless white teeth. The crowd was moved, but not so that anyone would notice. They did not jump for joy, they did not they shed a tear, and they did not cheer. They were simply overwhelmed by the Magistrate’s presence. They had, of course, heard that he was a handsome man, but few of them had actually laid eyes on him. On this day he was dressed casually, not in his official robes. Since he was hatless, his broad forehead was freshly shaved, the shiny green of a crab shell; his scalp was slicked down with oil, leading to a long, thick braid that fell down the rise in his buttocks and was secured at the end by a jade ornament from which hung a tiny silver bell that tinkled crisply with each move. The venerable official wore a loose white silk robe and thick-soled green cloth shoes with ribs down the middle; his ankles were tied off with silk garters. The trousers under his robe were so baggy that his midsection looked like a giant floating jellyfish. The highlight of his