The Republic of Wine

how feisty a donkey might be,’ Li Yidou comments, ‘when it sees him, all it can do is tremble.’
    Baldy walks up behind one of the donkeys, raises the blood-spattered mallet in his hand, and brings it down hard in the space between the animal’s leg and its hoof. The donkey’s hindquarters crash to the ground. The next blow lands on the donkey’s forehead, laying the animal out flat, its legs spread out in front like wooden clubs. Instead of trying to run away, the other donkey presses its head hard against the wall, as if trying to push all the way through.
    Baldy then drags a basin over and places it under the collapsed donkey’s neck, picks up his butcher knife, and severs the animal’s carotid artery, sending a torrent of purplish blood into the basin …
    After witnessing the donkey slaughter, Mo Yan and Li Yidou are back out on Donkey Avenue. ‘That was damned cruel,’ Mo Yan says.
    ‘A lot more humane than the old days,’ Li Yidou says.
    ‘What was it like then?’
    ‘Back in the last years of the Qing dynasty, there was a butcher shop here on Donkey Avenue known for its delicious donkey meat. Here’s the way they did it: They dug a hole in the ground and covered it with thick boards with holes drilled in the four corners for the donkey’s legs. That way it couldn’t put up a fight. Then they drenched the donkey with scalding water and scraped every inch of the hide. The customers would choose the part they felt like eating, and the butcher would cut it out for them then and there. Sometimes all the meat would be sold off, and you could still hear the animal’s pitiful wheezing. Would you call that cruel?’
    ‘You bet I would,’ Mo Yan says, clicking his tongue.
    ‘The Xue Family Butcher Shop reintroduced this method not long ago, and did a land-office business until the city fathers put a stop to it.’
    ‘Good for them!’
    ‘If you want the truth,’ Li Yidou says, ‘the meat wasn’t very good at all.’
    ‘Your mother-in-law says that the quality of meat is affected by the fear an animal feels just before it’s killed. That was in one of your stories.’
    ‘You’ve got a good memory.’
    ‘I’ve eaten braised live fish,’ Mo Yan says. ‘Even when its body is steaming under that gravy, its mouth keeps opening and closing, like it’s trying to say something.’
    ‘There’s no paucity of examples of cruel eating practices,’ Li Yidou says. ‘My mother-in-law is an expert in that area.’
    ‘Are there many differences between the parents-in-law in your stories and your real-life in-laws?’
    ‘Night and day,’ Li Yidou says, blushing.
    ‘I admire your nerve,’ Mo Yan says. ‘If your stories actually get published one day, your wife and your father-in-law will have you braised, that’s for sure.’
    ‘I wouldn’t mind. They could even steam or deep-fry me, as long as the stories got published.’
    ‘I don’t think it’d be worth it.’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘Let’s talk about it some more tonight,’ Mo Yan says. ‘You’re OK in my book. There’s no doubt that you’re more talented than lam.’
    ‘You flatter me, Sir.’
    IV
    The luncheon is held at the Yichi Tavern.
    Mo Yan occupies the seat of honor, Secretary Hu is the host. Seven or eight other people are seated around the table, all city fathers. Yu Yichi and Li Yidou fill out the guest list. With all his experience, Yu Yichi cuts a dashing figure. Li Yidou, on the other hand, is very uncomfortable, and doesn’t know what to do with himself.
    Secretary Hu, who looks to be in his mid-thirties, has a square face, big eyes, hair combed straight back, and an oily, shiny face; poised and dignified, and extremely well spoken, he wears his authority like a cloak.
    After three rounds of toasts, Secretary Hu stands up, saying he’s expected at several more luncheons, and leaves. Deputy Head Jin of the Propaganda Department picks up the decanter to host the next round. A half-hour later, Mo Yan’s head is spinning, his lips like pieces of wood.
    ‘Deputy Head Jin,’ Mo Yan declares, ‘I never thought you’d turn out to be such a fine individual… I figured you to be a … child-eating demon …’
    Mo Yan does not notice the beads of cold sweat that suddenly appears on Li Yidou’s face.
    ‘Our Deputy Head is an accomplished musician - he plays a number of instruments and sings as well,’ one of the dignitaries says. ‘You should hear him sing the part of the legendary Magistrate Bao. His stentorian