The Republic of Wine (25 page)

He shuddered a bit, his eyes fixed on the blue steel of the muzzle and the black hole at the end. He was used to pointing guns at
other
people's heads, always the cat watching the mouse squirm under its sharp claws. Most of those mice, facing death, trembled with fear and peed their pants. Only a few could feign calmness, though a shaking fingertip or a twitch at the corner of the mouth usually exposed their fear. Now the cat had become the mouse; the judge had become the judged. He studied his own pistol as if it were the first time he'd seen it. The luster, like blue glazed tile, was as enchanting as the bouquet of vintage liquor, its smooth outlines displayed a kind of evil beauty. At this moment, it was God it was fate it was the Grim Reaper. Her large pale hand squeezed the carved handle, her long, slender index finger rested against the trigger, just a twitch away from driving the firing pin into the cartridge. Experience told him that a pistol in this state is no longer a piece of cold iron, but a living object with thoughts feelings culture morality. There is an enriched soul within - it is the soul of the gun holder. Without realizing it, this reverie relaxed him, until he was no longer focused on the muzzle, from which the bullet would emerge. It was just part of the gun. He took a leisurely drag on his cigarette.

An autumn wind blew in from the yard, gently billowing the silk drapes. Drops of cold condensation on the steamy bathroom ceiling fell noisily into the tub. He watched the lady trucker like a man appreciating a museum painting. To his surprise he discovered that a naked young woman holding a gun she was prepared to use could be incredibly sexy. At that moment, the pistol was no longer a simple handgun, but an organ of sexual conquest, a throbbing weapon. Ding Gou'er had never been one of those communists who can close their eyes in the presence of a woman. As we have already seen, he had a sex-crazed mistress. Now, to add some detail to the picture, he'd also had his share of one-night stands. In days past, he'd have easily held this little lamb in his grasp, like a ferocious tiger that had come charging down off the mountain. What gave him pause this time was: First, ever since arriving in Liquorland, he'd felt trapped in a labyrinth, confused and paranoid. Second, the tip of his tongue still ached. Facing this demonic butterfly, with her twisted personality, he dared not make a careless move, particularly since his head was in the sights of the business end of a pistol. Was there any guarantee this demon wouldn't pull the trigger? It's so much easier than biting someone - besides, it's civilized, modern, and filled with romance. The contrast between the roomy, well-appointed quarters the woman lived in and the grinding job she performed perplexed him. I nearly lost my tongue over a little kiss. What if I … who could guarantee the safety of the family jewels? Suppressing his ‘bourgeois promiscuous inclinations' and rekindling his ‘awesome proletarian righteousness,' he sat there, solid as Mount Tai, facing a bare-assed woman and the black muzzle of a pistol, so decorous and composed, a look of utter serenity on his face, that he could surely lay claim to the mantle of tragic hero the likes of which the world has seldom seen. Calmly he watched the scene change.

The lady trucker's face reddened, her excited nipples quivered, like the voracious mouths of tiny animals. The investigator could hardly keep from throwing himself on her and biting them. The sharp pain in his tongue kept him in his seat.

She sighed softly. ‘I surrender,' she said.

She tossed the pistol down onto the table and raised her hands ostentatiously. ‘I surrender,' she said again, ‘you win …' With her arms in the air and her legs spread wide, all the points of entry were wide open.

‘How can you be so blase?' she asked the investigator in exasperation. ‘Am I too ugly for you?'

‘No, you're quite good looking,' he replied languidly.

‘Then why?' She turned mocking. ‘Not castrated, are you?'

‘I'm afraid you'll bite it off.'

‘Male praying mantises die when they mount the females, but that doesn't keep them from climbing on.'

‘Don't give me that. I'm no praying mantis.'

‘You goddamned coward!' the lady trucker cursed and turned her back on him.
‘Get
the hell out of here. I'm going to masturbate!'

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!'