Leaping out of bed, the boy prostrated himself at his uncle’s feet and kowtowed over and over. A pink color quickly returned to his cheeks, probably from excitement.
Son, the boy’s parents said, your ambitions are too great for someone so small We underestimated you, and have decided to take your uncle’s suggestion to let you go search out that alluring genie. Our elderly servant, Wang Bao, will accompany you. We hope you find her, but if you don’t, come home and put an end to our worries. We will find a lovely girl from a good family for you. Finding a two-legged toad is impossible, but the world is filled with two-legged girls, so don’t think there’s only one tree to hang from.
The boy, objecting to his parents’ suggestion, told them that the conjuring girl was the only one for him, that not even fairies from the Nine Heavens could take her place.
But his father, a man of considerable experience himself, advised the boy: My son, you’re under the spell of that demon-girl. You cannot tell what’s inside a stuffed dumpling by looking at its folds, and a girl’s qualities are not revealed in her face. Beauty and ugliness vanish as soon as you close your eyes.
Naturally, the boy refused to come to his senses, for he was in the grip of passion, and nothing his parents said had any effect on him. Finding themselves powerless, they fed their little donkey, prepared enough provisions for half a month, and gave Wang Bao, the elderly servant, detailed instructions. Their preparations complete, amid a flood of tears, a host of anxieties, and seemingly endless dawdling, they saw the boy out of the village and onto the road.
Sitting astride his donkey and wobbling from side to side as if mounting the clouds and riding the mist, the boy thought only of the prospects of seeing the girl before long. Elated by this thought, he grew so animated on the donkey that people who saw him said he’d taken leave of his senses.
Many days passed, and the provisions he’d brought were exhausted, as was the money he’d been given. No one along the way could direct him to Apricot Blossom Cave on Westwind Mountain. The old servant urged him to turn around and head home, but to no avail. He kept heading west, his determination never flagging. So Wang Bao sneaked off, begging for food on the way back home. Then the donkey died. But the boy kept going, alone and on foot, as the days waned and his road neared its end. Finally, he sat down on a roadside boulder and wept, though his thoughts of the girl remained as strong as ever. He was startled out of his weeping by a loud noise, just before the earth opened up and the boulder plunged downward, carrying him with it. He opened his eyes to find himself in the welcoming arms of the girl he was looking for. Overwhelmed by rapture, he passed out…
That boy was me! Yu Yichi announced with a sly grin. I spent many days with a performing troupe, where I learned sword-swallowing, tightrope walking, fire-spitting, and more. Traveling performers live wonderful lives, mysterious and romantic. Whoever writes my life story should narrate this period with all the flair and color he can manage.
Mo Yan, sir, this Yu Yichi is a master of imagination, rich in creative powers. I had the feeling I’d run across the story he just told me somewhere or other, maybe during my reading of Tales from the Scholar’s Studio or Tales of the Supernatural Then, not long ago, I was browsing through Strange Events in Liquorland and ran across the following passage, which I have copied out for you:
In the early years of the Republic, a performer came to Wine Fragrance village, a woman whose beauty matched that of the Moon Goddess. Among the villagers crowding around to watch her was a young man surnamed Yu, whose given name was Yichi and whose nickname was Lapdog. Bom to well-to-do parents in their forties, for whom he was a pearl in the palm, he was thirteen at the time, a gifted, intelligent boy, and lovely as fine jade. When the girl bestowed a smile on him, his heart took flight. Then the girl began her performance by summoning the wind and the rain, spitting out clouds and mist, to the raucous delight of her audience. She produced a tiny bottle, the thickness of a single finger, and held it up for all to see, saying: This is the cave-home of genies. Who among you will accompany me on a trip inside? The people gaped at one another, exchanging bewildered glances, wondering how two fully grown humans could possibly enter a bottle no thicker than a human finger. It must be hocus-pocus to trick the audience. But Yichi, captivated by the girl’s beauty, leaped out of the crowd. I’ll enter the bottle with you, he said. The crowd laughed at his foolishness. Young man, the girl said, you have a pure and wonderful disposition, and a strange fragrance emanates from your body. Clearly, you are no ordinary mortal, and entering the bottle with you is proof that our fates have been linked over three lifetimes. With that she raised her hand, forming her fingers into an orchid, from which puffs of smoke emerged. Ripples swept through the onlookers, like moon shadows, splintering and flickering without coming together. Yichi felt his wrist grasped by the girl, whose fingers were like threads, whose skin was satiny, soft and yielding. She whispered into his ear, Follow me, a sound like the gentle chirping of a swallow, her breath heavy with the smell of musk. She tossed the bottle into the sky, streaked with colorful rays of sunset and a host of auspicious auras. The mouth of the twirling bottle began to expand, the bottle grew and grew until it was at least ten feet long and shaped like a moon gate. Yichi drifted slowly inside with the girl. A flower-bedecked path, shaded by green pines, exquisite birds and marvelous animals frolicking all around. Yu was swept into an intoxicated stupor, lust burned in his heart. He grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her to him, wanting to perform the dance of love. With a giggle, she said, Aren’t you afraid the village elders will laugh at you? She raised her hand and pointed outside the bottle, where he saw the onlookers craning their necks to observe what was going on inside. Momentarily startled, Yu felt his passion flag. But it quickly returned, and while his passions raged, he was too choked up to speak. The girl said, The depth of your emotions moves me. If my lowly origins do not disturb you, or my repulsive appearance, then I ask you to return to Apricot Blossom Cave on Westwind Mountain one year from today, when I will prepare my bed to receive you. Yu’s emotions surged wildly and he was rendered speechless. With another wave of the girl's hand, he found himself once again under a bright sky, the tiny bottle lying in the palm of her hand. He detected a peculiar floral redolence on his clothing.
Back when the girl had first grasped Yu’s wrist, the onlookers watched as his body shrank, then the girl's, until they were a pair of mosquitoes flitting into the bottle, which then floated upwards and began to circle in the air, like magic. They were stunned by what they saw.
The girl planted a gourd seed in the rich soil, spit a mouthful of fragrant saliva on the spot, and commanded, Grow! A bud appeared, turned into a tendril, and sprouted leaves as it stretched dozens of feet into the sky. It grew where it willed itself to grow, twisting and coiling like a column of smoke. With a sack over her shoulder, the girl began to climb the stalk, from one leaf to the next, until she had gone ten feet or more. She stopped, looked down, smiled, and said to Yu, Don’t forget to keep your promise. Then she flew upwards, causing the leaves to quiver as she passed, and was soon out of sight. The stalk that had grown out of the gourd seed turned to dust that fluttered to the ground. The crowd stood there speechless before finally leaving the scene.
Yu returned home, but could not get the girl’s beauty out of his mind. Neither eating nor drinking, he lay stiffly in bed day and night, shouting over and over in his delirium, as if in the presence of ghosts and demons. His frightened parents sought help from a parade of doctors, all of whom were mystified by a tenacious illness that defied medical treatment. Yu continued to deteriorate, body and soul, until he arrived at the brink of death. His parents, reduced to tears, were at their wits’ end, when suddenly they heard the tinkle of a horse-bell at the door, followed by a shout, It’s I, the boy’s uncle! The words still hung in the air when a strapping young man burst through the door. After completing his bows, he said, Brother-in-law, elder sister, have you been well since last we met? Looking into his fa
ce, with its high nose, wide mouth, yellow hair, and blue eyes, unlike other Chinese, the mother was too startled to speak. The man strode over to the boy’s bed and announced, My nephew is seriously afflicted with lovesickness. Can potions or medical treatment cure him of that? You doddering oldsters will surely send my nephew to his death! Ill for many days, Yu lay with his eyes closed, barely breathing, as if he were already slipping into death, cut off from the outside world. The visitor bent down to check his condition. He announced with a sigh, Such pallor on a face so young and tender shows that my nephew is sick at heart. Producing three red pellets, he placed them in Yu’s mouth, which immediately brought color to his cheeks and restored his heavy breathing. Then, clapping his hands thrice, the visitor announced, Foolish youngster, the anniversary of your promise, which you have anxiously awaited for so long, has nearly arrived. Do you not want to be there at the appointed hour? Yu’s eyes popped open, bright and radiant, and he leaped out of bed. Thumping himself on the forehead, he exclaimed, If not for your help, uncle, I would have missed my rendezvous with the girl. You must leave, the visitor said, you must leave at once. He turned and strode out the door. Without stopping to change his clothes, comb his hair, or put on his shoes, Yu ran after his uncle. His parents called out tearfully, but he paid them no heed.
The visitor sat on his horse beside the road, waiting for Yu. Reaching down with his long arms, he lifted Yu up onto his mount, as if he were a newborn chick. Then he struck the horse with his riding crop; the animal whinnied once and was off like the wind. Yu sat astride the horse, holding on tightly to its mane, the wind whistling past his ears. Open your eyes, nephew, he suddenly heard his uncle say. When he did, he saw that he was in the Gobi Desert, surrounded by dry, withered grass on the rocky terrain, with nary a soul in sight. Without a word, his uncle smacked his horse and galloped off like a puff of smoke, leaving not a trace.
Yu sat on the rocky ground, alone and in tears. Suddenly he felt the rocks give way and heard a series of thunderous claps. Golden beams of light filled his eyes, so startling him that he swooned dead away. When he next awoke, he felt dainty fingers on his face, spreading their redolence in the air around him. He opened his eyes, and there before him was the girl. Tears of joy fell from his eyes. I have waited for you for such a long time, the girl said.
(Here five hundred words have been excised.)
Strolling hand in hand, they saw a garden with a profusion of unusual trees and rare flowers. One particular tree, large with palm-sized leaves, was covered with fruit shaped exactly like baby boys. At the mid-day meal, a golden-hued baby boy sat in the center of a platter, so perfectly lifelike that Yu dared not touch it with his chopsticks. How can a young man, over five feet tall, be such a coward? the girl said as she picked up her chopsticks and stuck them into the baby’s penis, which, along with the rest of the body, crumbled under the assault. She picked up a piece of arm and ate it, chewing and grinding like a tiger or a wolf. Yu was more frightened than ever. With a sneer, the girl said, This boy is not a boy at all, but a boy-shaped fruit, and I am not pleased by your posturing. Wanting to please her, Yu forced himself to pick up an ear and put it into his mouth, where it melted and flooded his taste buds with indescribably delicious flavors. Emboldened by this discovery, he attacked the food like a hungry wolf or a starving tiger. The girl covered her mouth as she giggled. She said, Before you knew the flavor you were frightened as a lamb, but now you are ravenous as a wolf! Yu was too busy eating to reply; with grease and oil smeared across his face, he was a sight to behold. The girl brought out a flagon of liquor, saturating the air like perfume. She said, This is brewed from fruit gathered by apes and monkeys in the mountains. It is among the most sought-after anywhere…
Mo Yan, sir, you’ve probably read enough for one sitting, and I’ve certainly copied all I can for the moment. But I should remind you that eating infant boys and drinking Ape Liquor, both of which are mentioned in this nonsensical article, constitute two significant current events in Liquorland; you could even say they are the two keys to the mystery of Liquorland. The author of Strange Events in Liquorland is unknown, and I have only recently learned of its existence. For a few years now, it has circulated among the public in a hand-copied version, and I hear that the Propaganda Department of the Municipal Party Committee has ordered it confiscated. So I speculate that the author must be a contemporary, someone who is very much alive, right here in Liquorland. The protagonist of the piece is also called Yu Yichi! So I suspect that he is the author.
Mr Yu, you are confusing me something awful. First you work in a tavern, then you’re a scaly young warrior who comes and goes like a shadow, and then you’re a clown in a performing troupe. Now you’re the prestigious owner of a tavern - your life is a mixture of truth and untruth, filled with countless transformations. How is anyone to write your life story?
He laughed uproariously. Who’d have guessed that such loud, crisp laughter could emerge from the chicken-breast chest of such a tiny dwarf. He tapped on the telephone buttons, making the little computer inside whirl dizzily. Then he tossed a teacup made of fine china from the town of Jingde toward the ceiling, sending it and the tea inside, aided by the pull of gravity, crashing and splashing onto the gorgeous, and expensive, wool carpet. Reaching into a drawer, he withdrew a stack of color photographs and flapped them in the air, making them flutter like a swarm of gaudy butterflies. Do you know these women, he asked smugly. I picked up the photos and studied them greedily, a hypocritical look of shyness on my face. Every one of the women was a beauty, totally naked, and they all looked familiar. He said their names were on the back. There I found the women’s work units, their ages, their names, and the dates they had sex with him. They were all from Liquorland. He was very close to realizing his glorious aspiration.
So, Doctor of Liquor Studies, this crowning success by an ugly little dwarf ought to earn him the right to have his biography written, don’t you think? Have that rascal Mo Yan get his ass over here as soon as possible. Wait too long and I might kill myself.
I, Yu Yichi, age unclear, stand seventy-five centimeters tall. Born into poverty, I wandered from place to place. I hit my stride in my middle years, serving as Chairman of the Metropolitan Entrepreneurs Association, earning distinction as provincial model worker, assuming proprietorship of Yichi Tavern, anointed as a candidate for Party membership, and having sex with twenty-nine of Liquorland’s most beautiful women. I have a mental state beyond the imagination of mortal men, and abilities that surpass the best of them. I also have a rich supply of the sort of experiences that are the stuff of legend. My biography will rank as the world’s most phenomenal book. Tell that rascal Mo Yan to make up his mind at once. Will he write it or won’t he? Shit or get off the pot.
Chapter Six
I
Ding Gou’er sensed the gold-trimmed Gate of Hell open with a loud rumble. To his astonishment he discovered that Hell wasn’t the dark, shadowy place mythology had made it out to be. No, it was dazzling, drenched simultaneously in rays from the red sun and the blue moon. Schools of beautifully striped, armored sea creatures, with soft, lithe limbs circled his body as it floated aimlessly. He sensed that a pointy-mouthed, multi-hued fish was nibbling at his anus, gently removing his hemorrhoids with the surgical skill of a trained proctologist. The butterfly of his consciousness returned to the body from which it had separated itself for so long, bringing a coolness to his brain. The special investigator, intoxicated for so long, opened his eyes: Sitting beside him was the lady trucker, naked as the day she was born, rubbing down her body with a sour-smelling liquid on a sponge she used to wash her truck. He, too, was stark naked, as he quickly discovered, lying on a sparkling teakwood floor. Images of the recent past seeped into his mind. He tried to get up, but couldn’t. The lady trucker was carefully rubbing down her breasts, absorbed in her task, as if alone, like a mother about to suckle a baby. As if in slow motion, glistening tears welled up in her eyes, formed two threads, slithered down her
cheeks, and fell directly onto her purplish nipples. A divine emotion rose in the investigator’s heart. He was about to say something, when the lady trucker threw herself on him and sealed his lips with hers. Then, for the second time, he sensed that fish were schooling in the air around him -he could smell them. He sensed the essence of alcohol that had flourished in his body saturate hers. He awoke. With an eerie scream, she collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The investigator stood up on rubbery legs; still light-headed, he supported himself with his hand on the wall to keep from falling down again. Never had he been so drained of energy - feeling a void inside, he had become skin and no bones. Opaque steam rose from the lady trucker’s body, like a freshly steamed fish. The steam vanished and was replaced by chilled sweat that oozed from her pores and puddled on the hardwood floor. What a pitiful sight she was as she lay there in a swoon; pity grows in the heart like poisonous weeds. Still, the investigator wasn’t about to forget the woman’s sinister and vicious side. Ding Gou’er felt like emptying his bladder all over her, like an animal in the wild, but he quickly drove that perverse thought out of his mind. Reminded of Diamond Jin and of his own sacred mission, he clenched his teeth with steely determination. Get out of here! My taking your wife to bed was a moral lapse, but cooking and eating children is a truly heinous crime. Gazing back at the lady trucker, he saw her as a target of flesh belonging to Diamond Jin. I hit the bull’s-eye of that target, and the bullet of righteousness still flies through the air. He opened the dresser, selected an olive green wool suit, and put it on. It fit perfectly, as if it had been custom-made for him, I’ve slept with your woman, he was thinking, now I’m wearing your clothes, and when it’s all over, I’ll have your life. He retrieved his pistol from his own dirty clothes and pocketed it. Then he ate a raw cucumber straight from the refrigerator and took a big swig from a bottle of Zhangyu wine. It was soft and silky as a lovely woman’s skin. As he turned to leave, the lady trucker rolled over and balanced herself on all fours, like a frog or a crawling infant. The look of wretched helplessness in her eyes reminded him of his own son, which filled his heart with paternal love. He walked over to pat her on the head.