Fat-choy went happily to sleep. Next morning, like a child with a new toy, he hurried over to inspect this latest item in his collection. He had to look three times before he believed his eyes. The bowl held a gold coin.
"Well, well, well," said Fat-choy, picking up the coin. He squinted at it, rubbed it between his fingers, bit it, rapped it on the tabletop. It was genuine, of purest gold. "I don't remember dropping this into the bowl last night. Yet so I must have done without thinking about it."
Fat-choy slipped the coin into the purse at his belt and went about his daily duties. That evening, returning to his chambers, he went to admire the bowl again. Two gold coins lay in the bottom.
Fat-choy rubbed his jowls and blinked his eyes. This time, he was sure he had not absentmindedly dropped money into the bowl.
"Ah, now I understand," he said. "My servants found these on the floor while cleaning my room. Yes, I must have dropped the coins. They rolled into some corner, my servants discovered them and put them where I would be sure to see."
Satisfied by his analysis, he attacked his dinner with a keen appetite and went to sleep. In the morning, the bowl held four gold coins.
This bewildered Fat-choy and made him a little uneasy. Someone must have come into his chamber while he slept. Again, he turned his mind to solving the mystery, which now seemed a highly profitable one.
"Of course," he finally said to himself, "now it becomes clear. Someone, plaintiff or defendant, has a case coming up for judgment. These coins are tokens of his respect and good will. They indicate justice is on his side. In the course of time, this righteous individual will make himself known. Meanwhile, he has asked one of my servants to bestow this money on me discreetly."
To prove this, he called in his servants. All replied they knew nothing of such a petitioner. Fat-choy sent them away and went back to unraveling the mystery.
"Simple explanation," he said. "They are lying. All in a good cause, and I forgive them. This unknown personage has ordered them to keep the matter secret. All will be revealed in proper time."
That evening, when Fat-choy returned to his chambers, he saw the bowl held eight coins. "Now at last I understand," he cried in delight. "At first, I thought it must be some litigant or favor-seeker. But they would be bolder and blunter and take up the matter with me directly. No, this is a graceful, elegant, feminine way of going at things.
"Yes, a lady is involved," he went on, preening himself, "a lady of wealth. Beauty, surely, to go with it. She has observed me about town or in the Hall of Sublime Justice and has quite lost her heart. She wishes, naturally, to remain unknown for a while, to see what I shall do. Perhaps it is a little humorous game to find out if I can discover who she is. That might be difficult, for there must be countless rich and beautiful ladies filled with tender emotions for me."
Next morning, the bowl held sixteen gold coins. Fat-choy hugged himself gleefully. "Ah, flirtatious minx! How she must enjoy the riddle she sets me!
"If this is a little game," he continued, "two can play at it. I have already established that someone is tiptoeing in during the night. A servant or, perhaps, the lady herself, who has bribed her way into the yamen. Very well, I shall go to bed as usual, but only pretend to be sleeping. At the sound of someone entering, I shall spring up and surprise whoever it is."
Despite his efforts, he could not keep himself awake all night. When he opened his eyes, he saw thirty-two gold coins in the bowl. "How did she do it?" he cried. "To creep in so quietly, with never a sound?"
The following night, Fat-choy bolted his door, thinking this might cause the unknown admirer to change her method and make herself known. Next morning, he found sixty-four gold pieces.
The following days, each time Fat-choy left his chambers he returned to find double the previous amount. He tried sitting up all night watching the bowl. However, when he glanced away even for a moment, still more coins had appeared when he looked back.
"Finally, I understand!" he joyfully exclaimed. "Why did I not realize it from the beginning? This fortune is no gift from favor-seeker or admirer.
"Celestial providence is showering me with gold! A reward for my honesty and diligence, for my generosity and nobility of spirit, for my wise dispensation of justice.
"Yes, I have read tales of kindly spirits rewarding mortals worthy of such benevolence. And who could be worthier than I? I never believed those tales, but here is proof."
With the amount continually doubling, the gold coins soon overflowed the capacity of the bowl, covered the table, and spilled onto the floor. Fat-choy piled the coins into his cabinet and locked the bowl there as well.
But the cabinet itself became filled. Fat-choy began wondering where else he could store this multiplying treasure.
"No telling when it will stop," he said to himself. "Perhaps it never will! Indeed, why should it?"
He needed no abacus to calculate he would shortly become rich beyond imagination. His head spun at the prospect of dozens of gorgeous carriages and teams of horses, of thousands of new robes, luxurious furnishings, priceless objects of art, residences to house them all; as well as gardens, orchards, pavilions. Each day, he could hardly wait to return to his chambers and peep into the overflowing cabinet.
At this time, there arrived in Chai-sang Honorable Inspector General Tso-tsang. It was the duty of this high official to examine account books and ledgers, to conduct investigations, perform inventories, and verify all expenses connected with yamens throughout the kingdom.
Fat-choy was too preoccupied with counting his growing treasure to give more than briefly formal welcome to this visiting official and paid no heed to his doings. Later, when Fat-choy opened his chamber door to insistent knocking, he saw Inspector General Tso-tsang in company with Honorable Prosecutor Ch'iang-to.
"Forgive this intrusion, Honorable Chief Magistrate," said the Inspector General as the impatient Fatchoy ushered them in, "but a question has arisen in regard to certain accounts and inventories."
"It is your worthy function to deal with it," replied Fat-choy. "I am concerned with duties more important than counting bushels of rice and adding up kitchen expenses.
"It is a little more serious than that," the Inspector General said. "As required, I personally examined the strong room where reserves of currency are kept."
"Excellent," said Fat-choy. "I am happy to know that you are carrying out your duties so meticulously. Now, if you will excuse me."
"Honorable Fat-choy," said the Inspector General, "I discovered something highly troubling. In fact, disastrous. Every sack of gold coins stored there is empty."
"What?" cried Fat-choy. "How can that be? Quite impossible. Honorable Tso-tsang, you must get to the bottom of this incredible situation immediately."
"As I have been doing," replied Tso-tsang. "It is obviously the work of a most audacious robber, one within the yamen itself. No other could have access to the strong room.
"Of course it is," replied Fat-choy. "Every servant, every official, from lowest to highest, must be closely questioned." He glanced sharply at Ch'iang-to. "Including the Honorable Prosecutor himself."
"I am happy that you agree," said the Inspector General. "I have already conducted such an investigation, to no avail."
"Then probe deeper," said Fat-choy. "I urge you to do so without delay."
"Your encouragement is commendable," said the Inspector General. "That is exactly why I have come to you. So far, all officials, including the Honorable Prosecutor, have allowed me to search their chambers. I have no doubt that you, Honorable Chief Magistrate, will do likewise. Purely as a gesture of good faith and token of enthusiastic cooperation.
"The sooner we begin," Tso-tsang went on, "the sooner this inconvenient formality will be ended. Shall we, then, start with ... oh, let us say, with your cabinet? A handsome piece of furniture, I hasten to add. I offer compliments on your taste."
"But-but this is unseemly! It impugns my dignity! It-it is outrageous!" Fat-choy had
broken into a cold sweat. He scowled and glared, with as bold a face as he could put on. He blustered, protested, and, finally, folding his arms, refused to submit to such humiliation.
"In that case," replied the Inspector General, "I must take other measures."
He clapped his hands and a number of clerks and scribes entered. At his bidding, while Fat-choy gasped and sputtered, they broke open the cabinet.
Coins flooded out in a golden stream. Fat-choy collapsed on a chair. The Inspector General turned a severe eye on the Chief Magistrate.
"With utmost courtesy, allow me to inquire how you came by such bounty?"
"Gifts! Gifts!" cried Fat-choy. "Gifts from kindly spirits!"
The Inspector General and the Honorable Prosecutor exchanged glances. The clerks and scribes set about counting the coins. When they finished, the sum tallied exactly with the amount of missing treasure.
"Honorable Chief Magistrate, Official of the First Rank Fat-choy," said Prosecutor Ch'iang-to, smiling blissfully, "it is my painful duty to place you under arrest."
Fat-choy, thereupon, was put under guard and hustled into the Hall of Sublime Justice. He was forced to kneel before his own desk and his own chair, occupied now by the Inspector General, legally empowered to sit as judge in such extreme cases.
"The bowl!" blurted Fat-choy, when permitted to speak in his defense. "The kindly spirits put coins into it each day! The bowl filled more and more with gold. I had nothing whatever to do with it. Prove it for yourself. Take the bowl. Put it in your chamber. Go to sleep. See what it holds next morning."
"The bowl in question," said the Inspector General, "an item of royal property, which should have been immediately returned to the Celestial Palace, was in your custody. It cannot be found. This is yet another breach of your responsibilities."
"Gone?" burst out Fat-choy. "The kindly spirits have taken it away!"
"My reply," said the Honorable Prosecutor, "is a simple one. Never in all my career have I heard such a pitiful and ridiculous explanation, and the most barefaced, preposterous lie that any arrant criminal has ever invented. Even more preposterous than the thief who recently claimed to be the Young Lord Prince."
"I have heard enough," said the Inspector General. "Under the law, I have authority to condemn you to death. But the law is merciful as well as just. I must take into account the fact that every coin has been retrieved. The bowl alone is missing, but I charitably presume it will eventually be found. Also, I must consider that you are or were-a colleague, and professional courtesy has certain obligations. Therefore, I pronounce a compassionate and lenient sentence upon you."
Accordingly, Fat-choy was stripped of his rank, his position, and his belongings, including his collection of antiques, and was flung out the gates of his former yamen. All his rich garments had been forfeited, but he was permitted to keep one cotton undershirt.
Fat-choy, reduced to being a beggar, proved a most unpopular one. He constantly whined, moaned, and ranted about his former wealth and his cruel betrayal by malicious spirits. Some goodhearted soul had given him an earthen pot as a begging bowl, but he seldom filled it, for passersby paid him little heed and for the most part brushed him aside.
As for the bronze bowl, a thorough search of the yamen failed to discover it. As far as could be determined, it had vanished beyond recovery and the case was closed.
One morning, however, an old beggar hobbled to a riverbank near Chai-sang. Amid the reeds and cattails, he glimpsed an object half sunk in the mud.
"Ah, so there you are," said Master Chu.
He bent and picked up the bronze bowl, examined it carefully and nodded with satisfaction. Then, clutching his find, he tottered off as quickly as his frail legs could carry him.
• • • • •
Leaving the miserable Fat-choy in the streets of Chai-sang, and Master Chu holding the last of Jen's gifts, we now return to Jen himself and what happens to him in the next chapter.
25
• Jen Contemplates His Situation •
• Interesting Device •
• War Against Master Cangue •
MASTER HU HAD ONCE REMARKED that everything was interesting if looked at carefully. Jen applied this observation to his present circumstances. First, he put Chai-sang out of his thoughts. He admitted that he had not entirely behaved with the dignity and noble fortitude Master Hu would have liked. In fact, when the Administrator of Benevolent Correction bolted and sealed the wooden collar, Jen was raging and kicking and had to be held down. Sent stumbling through the streets, goaded past the outskirts of town, he gladly took refuge in the empty countryside. He hoped somehow to meet Master Chu. The old beggar might be hiding in the underbrush, waiting for a safe moment to appear. This did not happen. Jen, therefore, set about finding a way to free himself and to calmly analyze what he had to deal with. Master Hu had been correct. Considered as object-aside from being fastened around his neck-the cangue, in its own way, was interesting.
At first glance, it was only a simple piece of wood with a hole in it. On one side, hinges allowed the device to swing open like jaws, and then snap shut around the victim's neck. But, as he discovered, it was heavy. The muscles of his shoulders already ached a little. The weight of the cangue slowed his steps and caused him to walk with a stoop. This posture strained his back and tired his legs. If he tried to walk quickly, his breath grew shallow and labored. When he sat down to rest, if he bowed his head the collar pressed against his upper legs. To lie flat was difficult, for his neck was forced to bend awkwardly. It was interesting that a mere plank could be so uncomfortable.
Its size and proportions were also interesting. The collar was quite wide. His arms, no matter how he stretched them, could not encompass it. His hands could not touch his head. His mouth lay beyond the reach of his fingers. He put aside the problem of how to feed himself. He had, in any case, nothing to eat. He turned his attention to breaking free.
Master Hu had always urged him, in his studies, to go to the heart of the problem. Here, the heart of the problem was a thick iron rod. Clamped on the unhinged edge of the collar, it served as a bolt to keep the device firmly closed. If he could pry loose this bolt or somehow shatter it, the collar would swing open. How to accomplish this would require careful analysis.
"Master Cangue," Jen said, "whoever devised you did it cleverly and neatly." He had once held a conversation with his belly, so it seemed not too extraordinary to hold a conversation with a piece of wood. "To undo you, I must be equally clever."
The cangue did not answer. "Very well," Jen said. "To business." Thus began his war with the cangue.
He scuffed through dry leaves. His foot soon struck what he wanted: a rock large enough to serve his purpose, but not so heavy that he could not handle it. He knelt and groped to pry it from the frozen ground. He had to apply some effort, but at last it came out like a loose tooth. He hefted it, satisfied.
With all his might, he struck at the bolt. The rock glanced off the bar. Unable to see his target, he had not struck it squarely. He recalculated and hammered at the bolt again. The iron rang dully. The impact of the blow jarred his head and neck. He continued, nevertheless. He heard a crack. Something had broken. It was not the bolt. The rock had split in his hand. He threw the fragments aside.
"You are stubborn," he said. The cangue said nothing.
It took him some time to find another suitable hammer. He set about pounding at the bolt again. With the weight of the cangue and the difficulty of striking at something he could not see, he was quickly out of breath, sweating despite the cold. His arm grew weary, his muscles lost their strength.
He understood. The cangue, in its own sly way, was trying to exhaust him. He could not allow that. He sat on the ground until his strength came back. He began again. Sometimes he struck heavy blows, sometimes he tapped and chipped at the bolt. He believed that if he hit at the proper angle he would find its weak spot.
His persistence was rewarded. Another blow and the ir
on rod dropped at his feet. Jen gave a cry of triumph. The cangue did not open.
This puzzled him. Then, from the corner of his eye he glimpsed what he had overlooked. The cangue was cleverer than he had supposed.
There were two more iron rods. They were affixed to the front of the collar on either side of the hole. He could not reach them.
He forced himself to stay calm. The cangue had lured him into believing it was a simple matter of breaking a single bolt. He had worn himself out uselessly. He would have to reconsider his situation.
He clung to reason and logic. He could not break all the bolts. Therefore, he must break the collar.
He set off through the woodlands, casting around until he saw what he required. Two trees had grown close together, the slender trunks nearly touching. There was room enough; he could wedge the cangue between them. This would give him the leverage he needed. If he applied enough force, the collar would split. Accordingly, he thrust one side of the cangue into the angle where the trunks nearly joined. He twisted back and forth and pressed all his weight against the collar.
The cangue did not yield. He fell back, gasping from his exertions. His strength was working against itself. His neck would snap instead of the collar.
He began to tremble. His head spun, his thoughts tumbled over each other. Throwing aside reason and logic, he desperately battered the cangue against the trees. He stumbled back, then ran headlong, plunging between the forking trunks. He cried out in pain as the cangue bit into his collarbone and wrenched his shoulder.
Somewhere in his mind, a little frightened animal began to scurry back and forth. Its name was panic. He threw himself blindly against the tree trunks until his whole body screamed with pain. He seized the edges of the cangue. By sheer strength he tried to rip the thing from his neck. The cangue tore his skin and turned it slippery with blood.