The Republic of Wine (27 page)

My dear Mo Yan, what happened next is the sort of thing that turns a person bug-eyed and tongue-tied. Rays of light shot out of that terrifying little dwarf's eyes, like glowing daggers, and with my own eyes I watched him shrink into himself right there on the seat of his leather-covered swivel chair, transforming himself into a shadowy figure that flew into the air, light as a feather. The chair kept spinning, until -
thunk
- it reached the end of the swivel rod. Our friend, the hero of this narrative, was by then stuck to the ceiling. All four limbs, his whole body, in fact, seemed equipped with suction pads. He looked like an enormous, disgusting lizard crawling across the ceiling, carefree and relaxed as can be. His muffled voice descended from the heights: Did you see that, little rascal? Well, that was nothing. My master could hang from the ceiling all day and all night without twitching. With that he floated down from the ceiling like a dark falling leaf.

Back in his chair again, he asked smugly, What do you say to that? Now do you believe in my skills?

His astonishing, frightful lizard trick had me in a cold sweat; it was as if I'd been given a glimpse of a dream world. It never occurred to me that the heroic young man on the magnificent steed was none other than this dwarf. My mind was thrown into confusion. An idol had been smashed, and my belly swelled with the expanding airs of disappointment. Sir, if you recall the description of the scaly youngster in my story ‘Donkey Avenue' - the bright moonlight, the magical little black donkey, the clattering of roof tiles, and the willow-leaf dagger clasped majestically between the youngster's teeth - you'd be disappointed, too.

You don't believe me, he said, and you can't stand the idea of me and that scaly youngster being one and the same - I see it in your eyes - but that's how it is. You probably want to ask where I learned these remarkable skills, but I can't tell you. To be honest, if you're willing to treat your own life more lightly than a goose feather, there's nothing you can't learn.

He lit a cigarette, but rather than puff on it, he blew a series of smoke rings, then strung them together with a single jet of smoke. The smoke rings held their shape as they hung in the air. His hands and feet never stopped moving. He was like one of those little apes that make their home on White Ape Mountain. Rascal, he said as he swiveled in his chair, let me tell you and Mo Yan a story about alcohol. I didn't make it up - making up stories is your business.

He said:

Once upon a time the proprietor of a tavern here on Donkey Avenue hired a skinny twelve-year-old as an apprentice. An oversized head topped the boy's long, skinny neck; he had big black eyes as deep as bottomless pits. He was a hard worker - fetching water, sweeping the floors, cleaning the tables, whatever he was asked to do - and extremely capable, to the immense satisfaction of the proprietor. But there's another side to the story, a strange side: From the first day the little apprentice entered the tavern, there was a notable discrepancy between the consumption of liquor from the vats and the money that wound up in the till, which greatly puzzled the proprietor and his employees. One night, after the vats had been filled to the brim with fresh liquor from several lined baskets, the proprietor hid near by to see if he could solve the puzzle. Nothing happened during the first half of the night, and the proprietor was about to fall asleep when he heard the tiniest of noises, like the muffled footsteps of a cat. Pricking up his ears and growing alert, he waited to see what would happen. A shadowy figure glided up. After waiting for such a long time, the proprietor's eyes had gotten used to the dark, so he easily identified the dark figure as that of his apprentice. The youngster's eyes were an emerald green, like those of a cat. He was panting excitedly as he removed the lid from one of the vats, buried his mouth in the alcohol, and began sucking it up. As the astonished proprietor watched the level go down and down, he held his breath so as not to give himself away. After helping himself to a goodly amount of alcohol in several of the vats, the apprentice tiptoed away. Having solved the riddle, the proprietor got up silently and went to bed. The next morning, when he checked his stock, he saw that twelve inches of alcohol was missing from each of the vats. He had witnessed a capacity for alcohol that defied explanation. As an educated man, he knew that the belly of the apprentice was blessed with a treasure known as a liquor moth, and that if he could get his hands on one and introduce it into his liquor vat, not only would it eternally replenish itself, but the quality of his liquor would increase many times over. So he had the apprentice bound up next to the vats. Giving him nothing to eat or drink, he ordered his employees to stir the liquor in the vat, over and over, filling the air with its aroma and the pitiful shouts of the apprentice, who twisted and turned in agony. That went on for seven days, after which the proprietor released the apprentice, who immediately pounced onto one of the vats, stuck his head into the liquid and drank thirstily. All of a sudden, there was a loud splash, as a red-backed, yellow-bellied toadlike creature fell into the vat.

Know who that young apprentice was? Yu Yichi asked gloomily. Seeing the look of agony on his face, I asked tentatively, Was it you?

Who the fuck do you think it was? Of course it was me! If that proprietor hadn't stolen the treasure in my belly, I might very well have turned into a god of wine.

You're not doing so bad as it is, I consoled him. You have wealth and power; you eat and drink whatever you like, and you take your enjoyment where you please. I don't think even a god of wine has it that good.

Bullshit! After he stole my treasure, my capacity for drink was history. Which is the only reason I succumbed to the tyranny of that rascal Diamond Jin.

Deputy Head Jin must have one of those liquor moths in his belly, I said, since he can walk away sober after a thousand cups of the strong stuff.

Bullshit! Him, a liquor moth? All he's got is a mass of liquor tapeworms. With a liquor moth you become a god of wine; with liquor tapeworms, the best you can hope for is a wine demon.

Why didn't you just swallow the liquor moth back and be done with it?

That shows what you know. Ai! That liquor moth was so thirsty it was barely in the vat before it choked to death. Sorrowful memories were turning his eyes red.

Elder brother Yichi, tell me the name of that proprietor, and I'll trash his tavern.

Yu Yichi burst out laughing, and when he had finished, he said, You poor muddled little rascal, did you really believe all that? I made it up, every word of it. How could there be anything like a liquor moth? That was just a story I heard my tavern proprietor tell. All tavern owners dream of owning a vat that never goes dry. But it's pure fantasy. I worked in that tavern for years, but I was too little for any heavy work, and the proprietor was always grumbling over how much I ate and how dark my eyes were. He finally sent me on my way. After that I just knocked around, sometimes begging food, and sometimes selling my labor for something to eat.

You've tasted the bitter life, but now you're a man among men.

Bullshit bullshit bullshit… after a string of ‘bullshit's, he spat out spitefully, Can the clichés! That might work with most people, but not with me. Millions of people all around the world have suffered and been mistreated, but those who become men among men are as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. It's all a matter of fate, it's in your bones. If you're born with the bones of a beggar, that's what you'll spend your life as. Damn it, I don't want to talk to you about these things anymore, it's like playing the lute for an ox. You're not smart enough to understand any of it. The only thing you know is how to turn grain into liquor, and just barely, at that. Like Mo Yan, who knows only how to write fiction, and just barely, at that. The two of you - mentor and disciple - are a couple of stuffed-up assholes, two turtle-spawn bastards. By asking you to write my biography I'm honoring your ragtag wicked thoughts. Clean out your ears and pay attention, you rascal, while your revered ancestor tells you another story.

He said:

Once upon a time, an educated little boy was watching a performance by two acrobats, one of them a beautiful maiden of twenty or so. The other was an elderly deaf-mute, by all appearances the girl's father. She was the only performer; the elderly deaf-mute just rested on his haunches off to the side to keep watch over her props and costumes, for which there was no obvious need - the old fellow was clearly superfluous. And yet, without him, the troupe was somehow incomplete, so he was anything but expendable. He served as a contrast to the beautiful young maiden.

Her opening routine included producing an egg out of thin air, then a pigeon, then making things appear and disappear - some big, some small - things like that. Energized by the swelling crowd, which formed a dense wall around her, she announced, Ladies and gentlemen, devoted supporters, your servant will now perform a peach-planting. But before I begin, let's open with a quotation from Chairman Mao: Our literature and art serves the workers, peasants, and soldiers. She picked a peach pit up from the ground, planted it in a patch of rich soil, and spit a mouthful of water over it. Grow! she commanded. Lo and behold, a bright red peach bud rose from the ground, higher and higher, until it became a full-fledged tree. Then the crowd watched as flowers blossomed on the branches and peaches began to grow. In no time they were ripe, an off-white color with tiny red mouths around the stems. The girl picked several of the peaches and handed them to onlookers, none of whom dared try one. Except for the little boy, who took one from her and gobbled it down. When asked how it tasted, he replied it was delicious. The girl invited the onlookers to taste the peaches a second time, but once again they just stood there, eyes popping, not daring to try one. With a sigh and a wave of her hand, she made the tree and the peaches disappear, leaving behind a vacant patch of soil.

The performance over, the girl and the old man gathered up their things to leave, while the boy watched on longingly. She acknowledged his attention with a smile, showing off her red lips and white teeth, just like a peach, so enchanting him she nearly snatched the soul right out of his body. Little brother, she said, you were the only one who ate one of my peaches, which shows that our fates are linked somehow. How's this? Ill leave you an address, and anytime you find yourself thinking about me, that's where you can find me.

The girl took out a ball-point pen, found a slip of paper, and scratched out an address, which she handed to the boy. He put it in a safe place, treating it as a cherished treasure. But when the girl and the old man walked off, he followed them, as if in a trance. Several li later, the girl stopped and said, Go home, little brother. We'll meet again. Tears slipped from his eyes and down his cheeks. With a red satin handkerchief, she dried his tears, then blurted out abruptly, Little brother, your parents are coming for you!

Quickly turning to look, he saw his mother and father hobbling along after him, waving their arms and moving their lips, as if shouting, though he didn't hear a sound. And when he turned back, the girl and the old man had vanished without a trace. He turned back again, and his parents had also vanished without a trace. Throwing himself to the ground, he cried like a baby. After a long while, exhausted from so much crying, he sat up and stared off blankly. Then, once he'd had enough of that, he lay back down and looked up into a sky as blue as any ocean, where puffy white clouds floated lazily by.

After returning home, the boy was in the grip of lovesickness: he wouldn't eat and wouldn't talk, drinking only a single glass of water daily and getting thinner and thinner, until he was skin and bones. Sightless when his eyes were open, when he closed them, he saw the lovely maiden standing beside him, the smell of musk on her breath, passion filling her eyes. Dear elder sister, he would shout, I miss you more than I can bear! Turning to put his arms around her, he'd open his eyes, and there'd be nothing there. Since it was clear to the boy's anxious parents that he was wasting away, they sent for his uncle, a learned man with keen eyes, shrewd of mind, far-sighted, judicious, and resolute. One look at the boy was all he needed to know the source of his illness. Elder sister, brother-in-law, he sighed, my nephew's illness cannot be cured by medical potions, and if he keeps deteriorating at this rate, nothing can save him. That's why I think it's best to ‘treat the dying horse as if it were alive and well' Give him his freedom. If he finds the girl, maybe they'll be joined together. If he doesn't, he might give up the quest. The boy's tearful parents, knowing they had no choice, accepted the uncle's recommendation.

The three grownups went to the boy's bedside, where the uncle said, Nephew, I've convinced your parents to let you go in search of the girl.

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.