The Republic of Wine

  The investigator flew off the sofa and grabbed her from behind, taking one of her breasts in his hand. She lay back in his arms, cocked her head, and grinned up at him. In spite of himself, he put his mouth next to hers, but his lips no sooner brushed up against her burning lips than stabbing pains re-attacked his tongue. ‘Ouch!’ he shouted, jerking his mouth out of harm’s way.

  ‘I won’t bite you …’ She turned and began to undress him.

  Piece by piece, the investigator’s clothes were peeled away. He pitched in to help, like a lone traveler confronted by a highwayman. First she removed his bathrobe and flicked it into the corner, then she relieved him of his shorts and undershirt, tossing them over an arm of the chandelier. He gazed up at them, suddenly wishing he could have them back. The desire to retrieve them was very strong. Wanting to ‘pick the onions without delay,’ he jumped a good thirty centimeters off the floor. He touched them with the tip of one finger of his right hand, but his feet were quickly back on the carpet. The next jump was forestalled by a leg sweep from the lady trucker, which put him flat on his back.

  Before the investigator could come to his senses, the lady trucker had straddled him. Grabbing hold of his ears, she began bouncing up and down, raising a tattoo of sonorous slaps on Ding Gou’er’s belly. His insides felt as if they were being crushed, and he shouted bloody murder. So the lady trucker reached out, picked up a smelly sock, and crammed it into his mouth. Her actions were violent and savage, not gentle or feminine. A foul, disgusting taste filled Ding Gou’er’s mouth; he wanted to cry out. Is this supposed to be making love? It’s more like hog-butchering. Just as his consciousness sent a command to his hands to shove this lady butcher off, she pinned his wrists to the floor, as if guessing what he had in mind. Ding Gou’er’s emotions were a welter of confusion. He wanted to struggle, and he didn’t want to. We’ve already seen why he wanted to struggle. And to find out why he didn’t want to, we need look no further than down between his legs, where he was undergoing a test of blood and fire. So he closed his eyes and put his fate in God’s hands.

  And here is what happened: While the lady trucker, all hot and sweaty, was squirming and bouncing around on his belly, like a lovesick loach, snide laughter erupted high above him. Ding Gou’er opened his eyes, and was nearly blinded by a flurry of flash-bulb explosions, followed immediately by a series of shutter snaps, and finally the whirr of film rewinding inside an automatic camera. He sprang into a sitting position and swung at the passion-filled face of the lady trucker. His aim was perfect; with a loud crack and a frenzy of flash-bulb explosions, she fell over backwards, her shoulders settling slowly onto his upturned feet, her naked belly revealing many delicious secrets. More flash-bulb explosions, as the historical posture assumed by him and the lady trucker was photographed from every angle by her co-conspirator.

  ‘All right, Comrade Ding Gou’er, special investigator, it’s now time to have a little tete-a-tete,’ Diamond Jin said tauntingly as he stuffed the roll of film into his pocket, crossed his legs, and settled comfortably into the sofa. He made the muscle on his right cheek twitch as he spoke, which Ding Gou’er found quite disgusting.

  Pushing the dazed lady trucker off his body, Ding Gou’er tried to stand up, but his legs were so wobbly he moved like a paralytic.

  This is great!’ Diamond Jin said, moving his cheek muscle. ‘An investigator with awesome responsibilities paralyzed from the waist down from sexual overindulgence.’

  Staring at the handsome, well-cared-for face, Ding Gou’er felt the fires of anger rage in his breast and spread throughout his body; his ice-cold legs felt as if thousands of tiny insects had suddenly come to life just under the skin. By propping himself on his arms, he somehow managed to stand, however wobbly. His plugged arteries snapped open, and as he began to move, he narrated his own actions: The investigator stands up and flexes his arms and legs. He picks up a hand towel and wipes down his sweaty body, including his belly, stained by love juices from the wife or the lover of Diamond Jin, Liquorland’s Deputy Head of Propaganda. As he wipes down his naked body, he regrets his fears of a moment ago. I’ve committed no crime, except for falling into a trap laid by criminals.’

  He tossed the hand towel into the air and watched it float to the floor in front of Diamond Jin, whose cheek muscle was, by now, twitching frantically, and whose face had turned the color of cold steel. ‘That’s quite a woman you’ve got there,’ Ding Gou’er said. ‘Too bad she threw in her lot with scum like you.’

  He stood there waiting for Diamond Jin to explode in anger. But the man merely burst out laughing, guffaws of towering strangeness, which threw Ding Gou’er into a panic.

  ‘What are you laughing at?’ he demanded. ‘Do you honestly think you can mask your guilt feelings with laughter?’

  Diamond Jin stopped laughing abruptly, took a handkerchief out of his pocket to dry his eyes, and said, ‘I ask you, Comrade Ding Gou’er, just who is troubled by guilt feelings? You wormed your way into my home and raped my wife, for which I have solid evidence.’ He patted the pocket holding the film. ‘An officer of the law,’ he went on, ‘who breaks the very laws he’s sworn to uphold is guilty of a serious offense.’ He sucked air in through the corner of his mouth. ‘Now who has guilt feelings?’ he said derisively.

  Ding Gou’er ground his teeth. ‘Your wife raped me!'

  ‘That’s the oddest thing I’ve ever heard!’ Diamond Jin said, his cheek still twitching. ‘A burly kung-fu master with a handgun raped by a defenseless female.’

  The investigator turned to look at the woman, who was kneeling on the hardwood floor, her gaze clouded as if she were in a trance, fresh blood trickling from her nostrils. Shivers ran through Ding Gou’er’s heart, as irresistible good feelings for the lady trucker’s scorching belly returned in a rush, until his eyes stung and tears began to form. He knelt down to pick up the discarded bathrobe, then used it to wipe the blood from the woman’s nose and mouth. If only he hadn’t hit her so hard. He noticed two drops of water on the back of his hand. Great big opaque tears leaped noisily -pi-pa pa-pa - from her eyes.

  Ding Gou’er lifted the lady trucker up in his arms, laid her on the bed, and covered her with a blanket. Then he jumped up, fetched his shorts from the chandelier, and put them on. After that, he opened the door to the balcony, retrieved the rest of his clothes, and got dressed. Diamond Jin’s cheek twitched as he watched Ding pick his pistol up from the table, uncock the hammer, and stick it into his belt before sitting down. ‘Let’s lay our cards on the table,’ Ding said.

  ‘What cards are those?’ Diamond Jin replied.

  ‘Don’t play dumb with me,’ Ding Gou’er said.

  ‘Not dumb, pained,’ Jin said.

  ‘Pained over what?’ Ding asked.

  ‘Pained over the realization that the ranks of cadres in our party have produced a degenerate like you!’

  Ding: ‘I’m a degenerate because I seduced your wife. That’s degeneracy. But there are people who cook and eat little boys. And you can’t be degenerate if you aren’t even human! That’s bestiality!’

  ‘Ha ha ha…’ Diamond Jin clapped his hands and laughed gleefully. ‘This is just like The Arabian Nights? he said when he finally stopped laughing. ‘Here in Liquorland, we have a famous culinary dish of extraordinary imagination and creativity. Members of the Central Government have tried it, so have you. Therefore, if we’re cannibalistic beasts, then you are too.’

  With a sneer, Ding Gou’er said, ‘If you have a clear conscience, why find it necessary to lure me into a sex-trap?’

  ‘Only Higher-Procuratorate scum like you have the perverse imagination to come up with a thought like that!’ Diamond Jin replied angrily. ‘Now I’d like to report to your honor on behalf of our city’s Party Committee and municipal government: We welcome Investigator Ding Gou’er of the Higher Procuratorate to our city. We are prepared to offer every assistance.’

  ‘You could easily block my investigation, you know,’ Ding Gou’er said
.

  Diamond Jin patted his pocket. ‘What we have here, to be precise, is two willing fornicators. But even though your behavior has been despicable, you have broken no laws. And even though I have the power to send you crawling back to where you came from, like a lowly dog, individual interests must be subordinated to public interests, so I will not stop you from carrying out your mission.’

  Diamond Jin opened his liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of Maotai, unscrewed the cap, and poured two tau glasses, emptying the bottle. He offered one to Ding Gou’er and raised the other in a toast: ‘Here’s to a successful investigation!’ he said, clinking glasses with Ding Gou’er. He tossed his head back, and drank the liquor in one gulp. Holding up the now empty glass, he stared at Ding Gou’er, cheek twitching, eyes shining.

  The sight of that twitching cheek muscle enraged Ding Gou’er, who held out his glass and, come hell or high water, drank every last drop.

  ‘Good for you!’ Diamond Jin shouted approvingly. ‘Now you’re acting like a real man!’ Returning to the liquor cabinet, he removed an armful of liquor bottles, all name brands. ‘Now let’s see who’s the better man,’ he said, pointing to the bottles, which he deftly opened and began pouring from. Splashes of liquor turned the air aromatic. ‘Anyone who doesn’t drink is the son of a whore!’ With his cheek twitching uncontrollably by now, Diamond Jin abandoned his sophisticated veneer in favor of a hardened, alcoholic look. ‘Are you up to it?’ he challenged, throwing his head back and emptying his glass. On and on the cheek twitched. ‘Some people would rather be known as the son of a whore than drink a little liquor!’

  ‘Who said I won’t drink?’ Ding Gou’er picked up his glass. Glug-glug - he drained it. A skylight opened up in his scalp and his consciousness was transformed into a demonic butterfly the size of a moon-shaped fan; it began to dance in the lamplight. ‘Drink … fuck your mothers, all of them, drink every drop of Liquorland’s …’ He saw his hand grow to the size of a prayer mat and sprout a mass of fingers that reached out to the liquor bottles, which shrank to the size of carpentry nails, embroidery needles, then suddenly swelled to the size of large goblets, metal buckets, mallets. The lamplight changed, the butterfly tumbled in the air. Only the twitching cheek muscle stayed true to form. Drink! Liquor lubricates like honey. His tongue and gullet felt unimaginably good, better than words can describe. Drink! He sucked it up as fast as he could, then watched the clear liquid slip soothingly down his brown, twisting gullet. His feelings soared, following the contours of the wall.

  Diamond Jin moved slowly in the lamplight, then took off abruptly, a virtual comet. The expression on his face cut a swath through the golden aura of the room like a razor-sharp saber, opening up a patchwork of seams in which he moved freely, slipping and sliding, until, just as abruptly, he vanished.

  The multi-hued butterfly looked worn out, its wings getting heavier and heavier, as if weighted down by morning dew. Finally it settled on one of the chandelier arms, its antennae trembling tragically as it watched its skeleton crash heavily to the floor.

  II

  Dear Mo Yan, Sir

  I’m concerned that I haven’t heard from you for a long time. Is it because I went overboard regarding my achievements in my last letter, and all that wild talk upset you? If so, then your disciple is caught up in fear and trepidation, shivering in his boots, afraid even to sweat, guilty of crimes deserving a thousand deaths. ‘A true gentleman forgives the trifles of a petty man, and the broad mind of an able minister can accommodate a ferry boat.’ Please don’t find fault with a child like me. I don’t want to lose your affection under any circumstance. From now on I’ll heed your every word, and will never again argue with you.

  If you really believe that the dish Dragon and Phoenix Lucky Together has bourgeois liberalization tendencies, I’ll delete it from my story ‘Donkey Avenue,’ and that’s that. I can also look up Proprietor Yu of Yichi Tavern and ask him to remove the dish from his menu. A few days ago, when I mentioned you to him, his eyes lit up. He asked me, Is he the one who wrote Red Sorghum?' I said, ‘Yes, that’s him, my mentor.’ He said, ‘That mentor of yours is a true scoundrel who’s always as good as his word, and I think highly of him,’ I said, ‘Who do you think you are, calling my mentor a scoundrel?’ But he said, ‘From me that’s a compliment. At a time when sanctimonious hypocrites are everywhere, a “true scoundrel who’s as good as his word” is rare as gold.’ Sir, we cannot use ordinary logic on extraordinary people. This Mr Yichi is a true eccentric, a real mystery. Please don’t take offense just because he talks like a guttersnipe.

  I told him I’d asked you to help me with his biography, and he was delighted. He said that only Mo Yan is qualified to write his life story. When I asked him why, he said, ‘Because Mo Yan and I are jackals from the same lair.’ To which I argued, ‘Mo Yan is one of the great young writers of his age. How can a dwarf like you be mentioned in the same breath?’ With a sneer, he said, ‘Calling him a jackal from the same lair is high praise from me. Do you know how many people would love to be considered a jackal from the same lair as me, but aren’t?’

  Sir, I hope you won’t sink to his level. In these times, when everything’s all topsy-turvy, even the city’s ‘number one Liquorland beauty,’ the hostess of our local TV show, went to bed with him. That, as you can see, takes real skill. He has money, but lacks fame; you have fame, but no money. A perfect match. Sir, you don’t have to pretend to be above worldly matters, just do a little business with him. He said that if you’re willing to write his life story, he’ll make it worth your while. I urge you to accept the assignment, both to earn a pile of People’s Currency and to change your image of poverty and backwardness. Besides, Yu Yichi is a truly uncommon individual, and that has to pique your interest. Here’s an ugly freak not much more than a foot tall who has vowed to f— every beauty in Liquorland, and has damned near f—ed them all. Now that’s a mystery that has to get you thinking. With your literary genius and powerful writing style, The Life of Yu Yichi is bound to be a classic. He said that if you’re willing to come to Liquorland to write his life story, he’ll supply you with everything you need: You’ll stay in Liquorland’s finest hotel, drink Liquorland’s finest liquor, dine on our finest cuisine, smoke name-brand cigarettes, sip famous tea. He even said - on the QT, understand -that if there are other pleasures you seek, he’ll do whatever is necessary to make you happy. Sir, if you’re concerned that the interviews will be too taxing, I’ll be happy to do them for you. You won’t find a better offer than this if you walk around with a lantern. So please don’t hesitate another minute.

  Sir, in order to further stir up your enthusiasm and convince you that Yu Yichi is your typical, lovable hooligan, I’ve written a story in the form of a chronicle, called ‘Yichi the Hero.’ I’d like your opinion of it. If you decide to come to Liquorland to write the biography, there’s no need to give the story to anyone else. You’ll be doing me a great favor, and I have nothing with which to repay your kindness. So we’ll just count this story as a modest token of my esteem for you.

  Wishing you

  Good writing,

  Your disciple

  Li Yidou

  III

  Dear Elder Brother Yidou

  Your letter and the ‘chronicle-story’ ‘Yichi the Hero’ arrived safely.

  Your last letter was uncompromisingly candid. I admire that, so you have nothing to fear. I couldn’t reply right away because I was out of town. Still no news regarding your stories, and I can only counsel patience.

  Dragon and Phoenix Lucky Together is only a culinary dish. As such it has no class attributes, and thus cannot possibly be attacked for having bourgeois liberalization tendencies. There’s no need to delete it from ‘Donkey Avenue,’ and certainly you needn’t remove it from the Yichi Tavern menu. If I visit Liquorland someday, I want to try this world-class gourmet treat, and how will I do that if it’s not on the menu? Besides, these objects have such high culinary value that it would be a shame
not to eat them, and stupid to boot. And since they must be eaten, there’s probably no more civilized way to prepare them than as Dragon and Phoenix Lucky Together. Finally, even if you tried to take it off the menu, Proprietor Yu wouldn’t permit it.

  I’m getting more and more interested in this Yu Yichi character, and am willing in principle to work with him on his life story. He can set the fee. If he wants to give a lot, I’ll take it; if he wants to give a little, I’ll take that too; and if he doesn’t want to give anything, that’s OK with me. It’s not money that attracts me to the project, but his celebrated experiences. I have the vague impression that Yu Yichi is the very soul of Liquorland, that he embodies the spirit of his age - half angel, half devil. Revealing the spiritual world of this individual could very well constitute my greatest contribution to literature. You may forward my initial response to Mr Yu.

  I’m not going to flatter you on ‘Yichi the Hero.’ You call it a short story, but to me it’s a hodgepodge, in every respect a mirror image of the scattered donkey parts in Yichi Tavern. In it you include a letter to me, excerpts from Strange Events in Liquorland, and the incoherent ramblings of Yu Yichi himself. It’s as unconstrained as a heavenly steed soaring through the skies, completely out of control. In years past I’ve been criticized as being out of control, but compared to you, I’m the embodiment of moderation. We live in an age of strict adherence to law and order, and that includes the writing of fiction. For that reason, I do not intend to send your manuscript to Citizens3 Literature - I’d be wasting my time. I’ll hold on to it for the time being and return it when I visit Liquorland. I will, as you suggested, refer to the material in the story. Thanks for the generous offer.

  One more thing: Do you have a copy of Strange Events in Liquorland7. If so, please send it to me as soon as possible. You can make a photocopy if you’re afraid it might get lost somewhere along the way. I'll reimburse you for the copying costs.