The Republic of Wine

and introduce it into his liquor vat, not only would it eternally replenish itself, but the quality of his liquor would increase many times over. So he had the apprentice bound up next to the vats. Giving him nothing to eat or drink, he ordered his employees to stir the liquor in the vat, over and over, filling the air with its aroma and the pitiful shouts of the apprentice, who twisted and turned in agony. That went on for seven days, after which the proprietor released the apprentice, who immediately pounced onto one of the vats, stuck his head into the liquid and drank thirstily. All of a sudden, there was a loud splash, as a red-backed, yellow-bellied toadlike creature fell into the vat.
    Know who that young apprentice was? Yu Yichi asked gloomily. Seeing the look of agony on his face, I asked tentatively, Was it you?
    Who the fuck do you think it was? Of course it was me! If that proprietor hadn’t stolen the treasure in my belly, I might very well have turned into a god of wine.
    You’re not doing so bad as it is, I consoled him. You have wealth and power; you eat and drink whatever you like, and you take your enjoyment where you please. I don’t think even a god of wine has it that good.
    Bullshit! After he stole my treasure, my capacity for drink was history. Which is the only reason I succumbed to the tyranny of that rascal Diamond Jin.
    Deputy Head Jin must have one of those liquor moths in his belly, I said, since he can walk away sober after a thousand cups of the strong stuff.
    Bullshit! Him, a liquor moth? All he’s got is a mass of liquor tapeworms. With a liquor moth you become a god of wine; with liquor tapeworms, the best you can hope for is a wine demon.
    Why didn’t you just swallow the liquor moth back and be done with it?
    That shows what you know. Ai! That liquor moth was so thirsty it was barely in the vat before it choked to death. Sorrowful memories were turning his eyes red.
    Elder brother Yichi, tell me the name of that proprietor, and I’ll trash his tavern.
    Yu Yichi burst out laughing, and when he had finished, he said, You poor muddled little rascal, did you really believe all that? I made it up, every word of it. How could there be anything like a liquor moth? That was just a story I heard my tavern proprietor tell. All tavern owners dream of owning a vat that never goes dry. But it’s pure fantasy. I worked in that tavern for years, but I was too little for any heavy work, and the proprietor was always grumbling over how much I ate and how dark my eyes were. He finally sent me on my way. After that I just knocked around, sometimes begging food, and sometimes selling my labor for something to eat.
    You’ve tasted the bitter life, but now you’re a man among men.
    Bullshit bullshit bullshit… after a string of ‘bullshit’s, he spat out spitefully, Can the clichés! That might work with most people, but not with me. Millions of people all around the world have suffered and been mistreated, but those who become men among men are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. It’s all a matter of fate, it’s in your bones. If you’re born with the bones of a beggar, that’s what you’ll spend your life as. Damn it, I don’t want to talk to you about these things anymore, it’s like playing the lute for an ox. You’re not smart enough to understand any of it. The only thing you know is how to turn grain into liquor, and just barely, at that. Like Mo Yan, who knows only how to write fiction, and just barely, at that. The two of you - mentor and disciple - are a couple of stuffed-up assholes, two turtle-spawn bastards. By asking you to write my biography I’m honoring your ragtag wicked thoughts. Clean out your ears and pay attention, you rascal, while your revered ancestor tells you another story.
    He said:
    Once upon a time, an educated little boy was watching a performance by two acrobats, one of them a beautiful maiden of twenty or so. The other was an elderly deaf-mute, by all appearances the girl’s father. She was the only performer; the elderly deaf-mute just rested on his haunches off to the side to keep watch over her props and costumes, for which there was no obvious need - the old fellow was clearly superfluous. And yet, without him, the troupe was somehow incomplete, so he was anything but expendable. He served as a contrast to the beautiful young maiden.
    Her opening routine included producing an egg out of thin air, then a pigeon, then making things