The Republic of Wine

  ‘I’ve ordered a car, Mo Yan, Sir,’ Li Yidou said. ‘We can walk if you’re up to it. If not, we can ride.’

  ‘Have the driver go on about his business,’ Mo Yan said. ‘We’ll just stroll where our feet take us.’

  ‘Fine with me,’ Li Yidou said.

  III

  Mo Yan and Li Yidou are walking down Donkey Avenue.

  Donkey Avenue is in fact paved with ancient cobblestones, which have been washed clean by an overnight rainfall A crisp, chilled, acrid smell rises from the cracks between stones, reminding Mo Yan of one of Li Yidou’s stories. ‘Is there really a ghostly black donkey that haunts this street?’

  ‘That’s a legend,’ Li Yidou says. ‘No one has actually seen it’

  ‘There must be countless donkey ghosts that wander this street,’ Mo Yan says.

  ‘That’s a fact. The street’s history goes back at least two hundred years, and the number of donkeys that have been slaughtered here is incalculable.’

  ‘How many a day?’ Mo Yan asks.

  ‘Twenty, at least,’ Li Yidou replies.

  ‘How could there be so many donkeys?’

  ‘Would anyone open a slaughterhouse if there were no donkeys to slaughter?’ Li Yidou assures him.

  ‘Are there enough customers?’

  ‘Sometimes they go away empty-handed.’

  While they’re discussing the situation, a man dressed like a peasant walks up with two fat black donkeys. Mo Yan goes up to him. ‘Say, old villager, you selling those?’

  The man gives Mo Yan a cold stare without answering, then continues on his way. ‘Want to watch them slaughter a donkey?’ Li Yidou asks.

  ‘Yes,’ Mo Yan replies. ‘Of course I do.’

  So they turn back and fall in behind the man leading the donkeys down the street. When they reach the Sun Family Butcher Shop, the man shouts, ‘Here are the donkeys, Boss.’

  A bald middle-aged man comes rushing out of the shop. ‘What took you so long, Old Jin?’

  ‘I got hung up at the ferry landing,’ Old Jin tells him.

  Baldy opens a gate next to the shop. ‘Bring them on in,’ he says.

  ‘Hey there, Old Sun,’ Li Yidou steps up and greets the man.

  ‘My my,’ a surprised Baldy says. ‘A little early for a stroll, isn’t it, old friend?’

  Li Yidou points to Mo Yan. ‘This is an important writer from Beijing,’ he says. ‘Mo Yan, the fellow who wrote the movie Red Sorghum.’

  ‘Don’t get carried away, Yidou,’ Mo Yan says.

  ‘Red Sorghum?’ Baldy says, looking at Mo Yan. ‘Isn’t that the stuff they use to make good liquor?’

  ‘Mo Yan would like to see how you slaughter a donkey.’

  Baldy, uncomfortable with the idea, stammers, ‘I … urn … there’s blood flying everywhere, you don’t want all that bad luck settling over you …’

  ‘No stalling,’ Li Yidou says. ‘Mo Yan is a guest of Secretary Hu of the Municipal Party Committee. He’s going to do some publicity for Liquorland.’

  ‘Oh!’ Baldy says. ‘He’s a reporter. Come on, come see for yourself. This little shop of mine can use the publicity.’

  Mo Yan and Li Yidou follow the black donkeys out to the back, where Baldy circles the animals to look them over. The donkeys, apparently afraid, shy away from him.

  ‘For donkeys, this guy is the butcher from Hell,’ Li Yidou comments.

  ‘I’ve seen better, Old Jin,’ Baldy says finally.

  ‘Tender meat, shiny black coats, fattened up on bean cakes. What else do you want?’

  ‘You want to know?’ Baldy says. ‘These donkeys have been fed hormones. They won’t taste good!’

  ‘Where the hell am I going to get my hands on hormones?’ Old Jin says. ‘Give it to me straight, do you want them or don’t you? If not, I’ll take them away. You’re not the only butcher shop on this street!’

  ‘Calm down, my friend,’ Baldy says. ‘We’ve known each other for years, and even if you brought me a pair of donkeys made of cardboard, I’d buy them and burn them in offering to the Kitchen God.’

  Old Jin sticks out his hand. ‘How much?’

  Baldy reaches out to clasp the other man’s hand, both concealed by their sleeves.

  ‘That’s how it’s done around here,’ Li Yidou whispers to an obviously puzzled Mo Yan. ‘The price for livestock is always given by the number of fingers.’

  The expressions on the faces of Baldy and the man selling the donkeys speak volumes. They look like actors in a mime drama.

  Mo Yan’s imagination is piqued by the expressions on their faces.

  Baldy’s arm twitches. ‘That’s my final offer,’ he says. ‘I can’t go any higher, not a penny!’

  The arm of the man selling the donkey also twitches. ‘I want this much!’

  Baldy pulls his hand back. ‘I told you,’ he says, ‘I can’t go any higher. Take it or take your donkeys away!’

  The other man sighs. ‘Baldy Sun,’ he says loudly, ‘Baldy Sun, you son of a bitch, you can go straight to Hell, where all the donkeys will chew you up and spit you out!’

  ‘They’ll chew you up first, you damned donkey peddler!’ Baldy fires back.

  The man unties the ropes. The deal is made.

  ‘Mother of our little daughter, give Old Jin here a bowl of the hard stuff.’

  A grease-spattered middle-aged woman emerges with a large white bowl filled with liquor and hands it to Old Jin.

  Old Jin takes the bowl but doesn’t drink. Instead he looks at the woman and says, ‘Sister-in-law, I've brought you a couple of black males today. Two big donkey dicks should be enough for you to gnaw on for a while.’

  With spittle flying, the woman says, I’ll never get my hands on one of those trinkets, no matter how many there are. But your old lady ought to be content with the one she has at home.’

  With a loud guffaw, Old Jin gulps down the liquor and hands her the bowl. Then, after tying the ropes around his waist, he says loudly, I’ll be back later for the money, Baldy.’

  ‘Go on about your business,’ Baldy replies. ‘But don’t forget to buy a “meaty offering” to pay your respects to the Widow Cui.’

  ‘She’s already got someone,’ Old Jin says, ‘so I won’t have the good fortune to pay my respects anymore.’ With that, he strides through the shop, past the counter, and out onto Donkey Avenue.

  By this time Baldy has his mallet in hand and is ready to begin the slaughter. Turning to Li Yidou, he says, ‘You and the reporter stand over there, old friend. You don’t want to ruin your clothes.’

  Mo Yan notices that the two donkeys are meekly huddling together in a corner, neither trying to run away nor braying unhappily. They are, however, trembling.

  ‘No matter 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. Tha
t 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 voice is as good as the great Qiu Shengxu!’

  ‘Let’s hear some, Deputy Head Jin,’ Mo Yan proposes.

  ‘If you don’t mind my making a fool of myself,’ Deputy Head Jin says.

  He gets to his feet, clears his throat, and, in a thunderous voice with a series of crescendos and diminuendos, sings a long aria without turning red in the face or gasping for air. When it is over, he clasps his hands and announces, ‘Please don’t laugh!’

  Mo Yan shouts his appreciation.

  ‘May I be permitted a question, Mo Yan, Sir?’ Deputy Head Jin asks. ‘What’s the reason for pissing into the liquor vat?’

  His face reddening, Mo Yan replies, ‘The rantings of a novelist. Don’t take them seriously.’

  Deputy Head Jin says, I’ll drink three glasses if Mo Yan will sing a bit of “Little Sister Strides Boldly Forward.”‘

  'I'm not much of a drinker,’ Mo Yan demurs, ‘and a very bad singer.’

  ‘A son of Han, a man among men, never drinks without a song. Come come come, I’ll drink first.’

  Deputy Head Jin lines up three glasses and fills them. Then he bends his head down and takes a deep breath; when he raises his head, he is holding all three glasses in his mouth. He tips his head back until the glasses are bottoms up, then lowers his head once more, placing the glasses exactly where they were.

  ‘Bravo!’ one of the guests shouts. ‘Plum Blossoms Playing Thrice!’

  ‘Mo Yan, Sir, that’s Deputy Head Jin’s piece de resistance? Li Yidou explains.

  ‘It’s superb!’ Mo Yan says.

  ‘Your turn, Mo Yan, Sir,’ Deputy Head Jin says.

  Three glasses are lined up in front of Mo Yan and filled to the brim.

  ‘Don’t expect any Plum Blossoms Playing Thrice from me,’ Mo Yan says.

  ‘One glass at a time, that’s all we ask,’ Deputy Head Jin says generously. ‘We’re not out to embarrass you.’

  With three more glasses down the hatch, Mo Yan’s head is really spinning.

  The other guests are urging him to sing.

  Mo Yan realizes that his mouth will no longer do his bidding, now that his lips and tongue are out of sync.

  ‘Writer Mo Yan,’ Deputy Head Jin says, ‘if you’ll sing something, anything, I’ll drink the “submarine” for you.’

  So Mo Yan sings for them, a ghastly sound, as it turns out.

  Still everyone shouts his approval.

  ‘All right,' Deputy Head Jin says, ‘now l’ll drink the “submarine.”'

  He pours a glass of beer, then a glass of hard liquor, which he lets sink in the taller glass. Picking up the beer glass, he tips his head back and drinks them both together, every last drop.

  Just then a woman enters the dining room, laughing loudly -Ha ha. ‘Where’s the writer?’ she asks loudly. I’d like to toast him with three glasses.’

  Li Yidou leans over to Mo Yan. ‘Mayor Wang,’ he whispers. ‘No one holds her liquor like she does.’

  Mo Yan gazes at the Mayor as she approaches: large, square face, fair and delicate, bedroom eyes, moist as an autumn shower, elegantly dressed, looking like a stately woman of ancient times.

  Intending to stand up, instead he slides indecorously under the table.

  V

  … Mo Yan Sir Mo Yan Sir what’s wrong please wake up This guy wrote Red Sorghum but he’s a fledgling with alcohol can’t hold his liquor but comes to Liquorland to stir up trouble take him to the hospital bring a car over first give him some carp broth to sober him up carp promotes lactation don’t tell me he just had a baby a meat boy set it in a big gilded platter with nice leafy celery and big mouth-watering cherries from the US golden juices nice and sticky like honey that doesn’t drip get on the phone and have the municipal hospital send an ambulance if something happens to him we’ll be in hot water the ambulance lights red as blood like the eyes of a wolf are getting closer this is a big case an important case an unsettled case lawyers and journalists will stand shoulder to shoulder Ding Gou’er Ding Gou’er you disappointing son of a bitch A shortage of grain beat back the Rightist Reversal Movement oppose Bourgeois Liberalization lots and lots of three-legged red-backed frogs showing up in ponds the first human sperm bank Kurosawa’s new movie Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams peach blossoms everywhere demonic ghosts howling Mount Fuji on fire thawing melting dripping like a piece of meat taken out of the fridge and exposed to the sun the flavor of the nineties absolutely delicious sonic waves beeping in an oven I asked Third Uncle Where’s Third Aunt Third Uncle said nonchalantly I braised and ate her the views of a Rightist Pow countless white shards of mercury explode leaving only an empty shell First memories of the Great Leap Forward how can people eat people why can’t people eat people Yi Ya cooked his son and offered him to Duke Huan of Qi an
d Liu Bei ate the wife of a hunter and Black Whirlwind Li Kui ate the leg of the highwayman Li Gui roasting it first Lu Xun opened the Diary of a Madman and found the words Eat People written all over the ancient ledgers First Elder Brother was eaten Second Elder Sister was eaten little boys were eaten too Exposes of the Corrupt Official World a novel exposing dark secrets A real loser give him a shot an IV injection with medicine to protect the liver The Eight Immortals of Liquor a big gulp if the feelings are deep a little sip if the feelings are shallow This novel must arouse passion avoid sarcasm and satire the cadres have to be portrayed as real people not caricatures intended as serious literature not schemes and intrigues Lin Biao’s broken spear sank into the sand was a missile involved When Mao’s Sixteen Points were promulgated I shouted myself hoarse I saw the whiteness of Nuan’s breasts couldn’t help myself I said Let me have a look just one look it was terrifying Ponies and lambs whinny and bleat rams’ bellies are wrapped with cloth to prevent mating birth control China’s knotty problem and major contradiction the engineers of human souls cannot avoid it She was the best chef of her generation she heard the agonizing chirps of swallows when she prepared the swallows’ nests Li Yidou you’re an ass-kisser yourself you led my novel down the wrong path Fan Xiaotian the editor of Zhongshan treated me to stuffed buns at the Vegetarian Gourmet and bought me some beer When I was having a drink with Yu Hua he said Ding Gou’er you stop right there I can’t believe you’re so worthless your hands are covered with the blood of the masses I love you I didn’t know I was so deeply in love until I was drunk There’s no escape a rope dragging a long long tail At that time I was walking in the field the earth was frozen covered with snow wild rabbits frozen to death hedgehogs too Liquorland is a fictional place but also a synthesis of many real cities Ding Gou’er is an abominable person who tries to be dashing and refined but cannot All liquors are about the same they make you slobbering drunk Luan Ping investigated the hero Yang Zirong I racked my brain in order to serve in the military For many years the struggle between sex and morality has been a tangle causing much suffering split personality Faulkner learned from Joyce’s Ulysses can’t I also learn from you This is the only way it can be done originally this text was intended to explore the relationship between liquor and women liquor decreases a man’s libido but increases a woman’s this is the fundamental conflict between Li Yidou’s father-in-law and mother-in-law Never tire of the refined in food always strive for delicacy in cooking running out of words and searching for expressions a reality in writing Where did the scaly youth run off to the Ape Liquor Festival is coming soon How to write this chapter it is so depressing the more I write the more impatient I become the woes of Dionysus The liquor was laced with pesticide a bastard of a doctor transfused a woman’s blood from childbirth to someone else and caused Spiritual Pollution the more developed the technique of wine drinking the more elaborate the wine glasses become a trap within a trap the country cadre was a boorish uncivilized drinker who forced liquor down County Chief Song and caused his death the wife of the County Chief was my elementary school teacher the court threw out the case saying he deserved to die he shouldn’t have drunk so much it was his own fault my teacher said Mo Yan you’re well known write an article for the newspaper to report the incident expose the injustice for me officials always protect each other this case will never have its day in court besides he’s dead anyway Ding Gou’er nearly died from being drunk vomited all over the place wah wah wah prohibition cannot be enforced Cao Cao tried to prohibit liquor Kong Rong a descendant of Confucius famous for the filial act of giving a larger pear to his older brother mocked Cao Cao by saying the Shang dynasty came to ruin because of a woman but we didn’t see King Wen of the Zhou prohibit women Cao Cao was enraged and killed him Cao Cao ate plums and warmed a pot of liquor while talking about heroes Seeing the Mayor off to his new position in the provincial government banquets were held for forty days liquor flowed like rivers raging over the land like the Yangtze drinking is the road to glory the more one drinks the more glorious one becomes Let me tell you why I’m writing this novel I read in a short article where someone was promoted and became rich because of his capacity for liquor which inspired me page after page of drunken gibberish and nonsense froth filling the mouth the vomit made our puppy drunk it died the dog ate it Developing a child’s capacity for liquor a man and a woman vie to see who is the bigger drinker they are clearly equals they fall in love they get married on their wedding night the woman says Ow it hurts did you fucking ejaculate liquor inside me you lousy hooligan The cadre’s urine is also very pungent a high alcoholic content a baby was born he drank neither milk nor water only liquor and was called Liquor Boy startling the world of liquor great drinkers are worshiped. After a memorial held for a man who drank himself to death everyone got drunk with a sip of liquor comes a string of witty sayings but not for me my mind a raging sea and roaring river inundated with flashing fragments of words and phrases like shards of broken glass a potent sobering-up tonic lets you drink to your heart’s content without getting drunk even after a thousand glasses the highest the finest the fairest state of happiness She saw emerald teardrops spill out of the boy’s eyes and licked them off with her tongue they tasted like strong liquor a low-grade liquor is a woman whose hair is brittle and yellow whose black eyes are crossed whose head is squeezed flat whose teeth are big and yellow whose freckled face is covered with a thick layer of cheap powder yet still smiles coquettishly and flirtatiously at men why do you want to drink this kind of liquor you should drink fine liquor like a young Russian girl whose skin is smooth and silky overflowing with the natural flavor of wildflowers and grass Mo Yan Sir Mo Yan Sir how are you feeling dead yet The pink serving girl Little Sun has a fine layer of peach fuzz on her upper lip when I touch her she mysteriously looks at the door and waves her hands pregnant with meaning but a subtle smile on her face I say You’re wonderful I wish we’d met before you married in exchange for her smile my lips brush her smooth forehead which feels like a gourd it reeks what a drunken cat what a drunken dog what a lush waving her hands to fan the air beneath her nose she turns and runs off followed by a loud bang from the spring door I run into the bathroom and scream at the toilet when I look up at the mirror with its peeling mercury I come face to face with the image of myself aging and ugly my disgusting image shames me how dare I fantasize touching a beautiful young girl Damn some will say I’m obviously imitating the style of Ulysses in this section Who cares I’m drunk when you get drunk you’re out for three days Little Sun falsely reported that the writer from Beijing drank himself to death Mumbling something the Mayor came to visit you but you couldn’t even open your eyes the table the corners of the room the bed littered with tin cans and fruit pears bananas oranges melons tomatoes and a bottle with a black-tailed snake coiled inside What do you feel like eating aren’t you going to eat something the black-tailed snake squirms in my throat its sharp scales scrape the inside of my throat wah wah I vomit Li Yidou says from my experience you should drink some liquor the best cure for alcohol poisoning is two glasses of liquor what we call fighting poison with poison No more no more the mere mention of liquor makes me sick gives me a headache Li Yidou I’ve fallen into your evil trap he ignores my protest a sinister smile he fills a big glass with a pink and emerald green liquid Red-Maned Stallion like a sex-crazed wanton woman laughing hideously inside the glass teasing me horrifying me No no I’ve had enough Mother help me pinching my ears didn’t help so he pinches my nose pries open my clenched teeth and forces the glass of Red-Maned Stallion down that organ of mine called a mouth like a baby with its mother’s nipple in its mouth I gurgle but can’t spit it out a burning flame licks down my corrupt throat and into my stinking stomach and dissolves I feel gutted by a knife my eyes are closed I want to stand up but can’t find my legs where are my legs hanging from the ceiling swinging back and forth like hams from Jinhua hanging in a butcher shop look even more like prosthetic legs hanging from hooks in a specialty store for the disable
d Punch the con man the evil-doer Li Yidou but my arms are gone too there’s nothing left so much evil cannot go unpunished it’s just a matter of time the day of atonement has arrived time for you to die like a phoenix bathing in the fire of self-immolation I’m soaking in an emerald green flame turning this way and that way I didn’t think I’d drink myself to death in Liquorland didn’t think I’d end up like Ding Gou’er Ding Gou’er is my shadow he has become skinny as a monkey with a game leg his body covered in shit and a drunk’s vomit millions of fat white maggots crawling in his hair standing before me he looks me in the eye and gives me a knowing smile which makes me look to the ground where his shadow and mine overlap intertwined impossible to tell who’s who He pulls out Ding Gou’er’s handgun I recall there’s one bullet left for an emergency Go ahead no need to hesitate he says as he whips out the shit-covered handgun with a long-tailed maggot crawling out of its barrel he releases the safety flicks the vomit out of the barrel spits out something like baby’s hair he says I’m really going to shoot no more mister nice guy I’m going to fire it at the cannibalistic beasts at the Fascists don’t flinch pull yourself up like a black donkey dick OK faster than it takes to tell he aims at our layered shadows on the ground and fires the last bullet a stinking smelly bullet exploding out of the barrel followed by the smell of rotten meat combined with the most terrifying stench in the world a puff of dripping wet green smoke We both feel our hearts pierced with unbearable pain we jump up like carp on dry land with all hope gone it seems our flesh was shot but what springs up from the ground are our shadows then we fall down face to face smiling like true brothers reunited after a long separation…