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

understanding, Sun Bing?”
    “It is,” Sun Bing said, his head held high. “I am grateful for the Magistrate’s magnanimity!”
    The Judicial Secretary then turned to the Magistrate for confirmation, which came in the form of a barely noticeable nod.
    “Let the competition begin!” the Secretary announced grandly.
    Without further ado, Sun Bing tore off his shirt to reveal lash marks across his shoulders. After curling his queue on top of his head, he tightened his trouser sash, struck a martial pose—legs apart, arms spread—took a deep breath, and concentrated all his strength in his chin. Like magic, his beard began to vibrate, just long enough for each strand to stretch out as straight and rigid as wire. Then, finally, he lifted his chin, keeping his back straight, as he lowered his body and slowly began to immerse his beard in the water.
    This elicited no discernible reaction from Magistrate Qian, who stood off to the side with a smile and gently waved the paper fan in his hand as he watched Sun Bing concentrate his strength in his beard. The onlookers, won over by the Magistrate’s graceful bearing, viewed Sun Bing’s performance as artificial and repulsive, on a par with the common scoundrels who spin spears and twirl clubs to draw attention to the fake nostrums they sell. As soon as Sun began immersing his beard in the vat of water, Magistrate Qian snapped his fan shut and tucked it into his wide sleeve. Then, with a slight shift of his body, he took his beard in both hands, moved it away from his chest, and shook it, displaying boundless elegance and grace, and nearly inducing a mortal swoon in Sun Meiniang in the process. He lifted his chin, keeping his back straight, as he lowered his body and slowly began to immerse his beard in the water.
    People stood on tiptoe and craned their necks to see how the beards were faring in the water. But no matter how widely they opened their eyes, most were able to see only the Magistrate’s composed, smiling countenance and Sun Bing’s taut, purple face. Not even those a bit closer to the action had a view of how the beards were faring in the water. The sun was too bright, the brown wooden vats too dark.
    The Judicial Secretary and Licentiate Shan, who were to judge the contest, walked back and forth between the two vats, comparing and contrasting, their faces brimming with delight. As a gesture to convince the crowd and forestall any objection, the Secretary called out:
    “Those of you who want to see for yourself, come closer!”
    Sun Meiniang all but leaped over the benches and strode purposefully up to the Magistrate, lowering her head to the level of the tip of his thick queue, where the inward curve of his spine and the fair lobes of his ear were displayed before her eyes. Her lips burned; a greedy desire gnawed at her heart like a little insect. She yearned to bend down and cover the Magistrate’s body with kisses from her pliant lips, but she lacked the courage. A sensation more profound than pain rose up in her heart and sent a scant few teardrops onto the Magistrate’s potent, handsome, well-proportioned neck. She detected a subtle fragrance emanating from the vat, in which she saw every strand of the Magistrate’s beard perfectly vertical in the water, like the root system of a well-tended plant. She hated the idea of leaving the spot beside his vat, but the Judicial Secretary and Licentiate Shan nudged her over to Sun Bing’s vat. There she saw that her father’s beard had also gone straight to the bottom, also like a plant’s root system. But the Secretary pointed to the few white whiskers floating on the surface.
    “Do you see what I see, madam?” he said. “Tell everyone exactly what you see. What we say does not count, but what you say does. Go ahead, tell them who has won and who has lost.”
    Sun Meiniang faltered. She looked into her dieh’s red face and bloodshot eyes, and in them she saw the ardent hope he placed in her. But then she turned and saw the expressive eyes of the Magistrate, and she felt as if her mouth were sealed by a sticky substance. In the end, thanks to the prodding of the Judicial Secretary and Licentiate Shan, she broke down and sobbed:
    “His Eminence has won and my dieh has lost . . .”
    Two heads shot up from their respective vats, bringing with them beards dripping with water. They shook them, sending drops spraying in all directions. Their eyes met. Sun Bing, breathing hard, was dumbfounded; His