The Republic of Wine (29 page)

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.

‘You poor thing,' he said, ‘you poor little darling.'

She wrapped her arms around his legs and gazed up at him tenderly.

‘I'm leaving,' he said. I'll not allow your husband to get away with his crimes.'

‘Take me with you,' she said. ‘I hate him. I'll help you. They eat infants.'

She stood up, dressed quickly, and took a bottle from the cabinet. In it was some ocher-colored powder.

‘Know what this is?' she asked.

The investigator shook his head.

It's infant powder.' she said. ‘They use it as a tonic.'

‘How's it made?' the investigator asked.

It's produced by the hospital's Special Nutrition Unit,' she replied.

‘From live babies?'

‘Yes, live ones. You can hear them crying.'

‘Come on, we're off to the hospital'

She took a cleaver out of the cabinet and handed it to him.

With a laugh, he tossed it onto the table.

That drew a crisp cackle out of the lady trucker, sort of like a laying hen, or a wooden wheel rolling over cobblestones. Then with a smile like that of a bat, she threw herself at him again, wrapped her arms tenderly around his neck, and, with the same tenderness, wrapped her legs around his knees. With a struggle, he managed to pry her off, but she was right back at him, like a bad dream that won't go away. The investigator hopped all over the place, monkey-style, trying to keep away from her.

‘Jump on me one more time,' he panted, ‘and I'll put a bullet in you!'

Stunned for a moment, she cried out hysterically, ‘Go ahead, put a bullet in me! Do it, you ingrate, put a bullet in me!'

She ripped open her blouse, sending a purple Plexiglass button to the floor, where it hit with a crisp
ping
and began rolling around like a tiny animal, first one way, then the other. Whatever force moved it seemed undeterred by the pull of gravity or the friction of the hardwood floor. Stomping on it angrily, the investigator felt it slip around under his foot, tickling him through his sock and thick-soled shoe.

‘What kind of person are you? Did Diamond Jin instruct you to do this?' The sentimental attachment the investigator felt for the woman after sex was already dissipating; as his heart began to harden, it turned the color of cold steel. ‘If so, then you're a co-conspirator,' he said with a sneer, ‘and have eaten infants along with them. Diamond Jin must have ordered you to block my investigation.'

‘What an ill-fated woman I am …' She began to sob, then cried openly, her face awash with tears, her shoulders heaving. ‘Five times I've been pregnant, and each time he's sent me to the hospital in my fifth month for an abortion … he ate every one of the aborted fetuses…'

Overcome by the grief of despair, she wobbled and was about to topple, when the investigator reached out to steady her; she reacted by falling into his arms and nibbling at his neck. Then she bit him - hard. With a screech of pain, the investigator drove his fist into her belly. She croaked like a frog and crashed to the floor, face up. Her teeth were sharp, as Ding Gou'er knew from experience. He touched his wounded neck and drew back two bloody fingers, while she lay on the floor, eyes open. But as the investigator turned to leave, she rolled over to block his way. ‘Dear elder brother!' she wailed. ‘Don't leave me, let me kiss you…' That gave him an idea: fetching a length of nylon rope from the balcony, he bound her to the chair. Struggling mightily to get free, she screamed:

‘Goddamned gigolo, I'll bite the life out of you, you goddamned gigolo!'

The investigator took out a handkerchief, gagged her with it, then ran out as if his life depended on it, slamming the door behind him. Dimly he could hear the chair legs banging against the hardwood floor, and was afraid that the tenacious lady bandit might come after him, chair and all. His flying feet slapped against the concrete stairs, raising a deafening noise. In spite of the fact that the lady trucker lived in a low building, the staircase kept winding and winding, as if leading him down to the depths of Hell. As he was negotiating a bend in the stairs, he ran headlong into an elderly woman coming up the stairs. Her protruding belly felt like a leather sack filled with some sort of liquor; instead of yielding to the pressure, the liquid merely shifted. He then watched as she fell backwards on the steps, frantically waving her stubby arms. Her face was very large and very pale, like a head of cabbage tucked away for the winter. Inwardly cursing his bad luck, the investigator felt a clump of toadstools suddenly sprout in his brain. Hopping down onto the landing, he reached out to help the woman to her feet. She was moaning, her eyes closed, the sound müd yet bleak. Feeling guilty, the investigator bent down and put his arms around her waist to help her up. Not only was she heavy, she wouldn't stop rolling around, and the effort to lift her up swelled the blood vessels in the investigator's head to bursting point. A stabbing pain shot through the spot on his neck where the lady trucker had bitten him. Finally, the old woman cooperated by wrapping her arms around his neck, and together they managed to get her to her feet. But her greasy fingers on his wounded neck caused such excruciating pain that he broke out in a cold sweat. Her breath smelled like rotten fruit, so unbearably foul that he loosened his grip, sending her sprawling back onto the stairs, where she jiggled like a burlap sack filled with mung-bean noodles; she was holding on to his trousers for dear life. Noticing that the backs of her hands glistened with fish scales, suddenly he watched as two fish - one a carp, the other an eel - wriggled out of a plastic bag she'd been carrying. The carp flopped crazily on the stairs, while the eel - yellow face, green eyes, two erect, wiry whiskers -wriggled along stealthily, sluggishly. The water in the sack spilled slowly onto the stairs, soaking one step, then the next. He heard himself ask dryly:

‘Are you OK, old lady?'

1 broke my hip,' she replied, ‘and tore up my intestines.'

Hearing her describe her injuries in such detail, the investigator knew that a whole lot of trouble was about to come crashing down on his unlucky head once again. He was in a bigger pickle than even that hapless carp; naturally, the carefree eel was infinitely better off than he. His first thought was to get away from this old woman, but instead he bent over and said:

I'll carry you to the hospital, old auntie.'

The old woman replied:

‘My leg's broken, and my kidneys have been damaged.'

He sensed an air of poison swelling in his gut. The carp flopped up onto his shoe. His foot flew, and so did the fish, right into the metal banister.

‘You owe me a fish!'

He stomped on the eel as it slithered by.

‘I'll carry you to the hospital!' he repeated.

The old woman hung on to his legs for dear life.

‘Don't even think about it!'

‘Old auntie,' he said, ‘your hip's broken, your leg's broken, your intestines are all torn up, and your kidneys have been damaged. If you don't go to the hospital, you'll die right here. Is that what you want?'

If I do, I'll take you along with me,' the old woman said resolutely. He felt her grip grow more powerful.

The investigator sighed forlornly. Looking down at the stairs and at the two dying fish, then out at the gloomy gray sky beyond the broken window, he didn't know what to do. Just then the strong smell of alcohol drifted in through the window, along with the
clang-clang
of sheet metal being struck. Suddenly chilled to the bone, he longed for a drink.

Grim laughter burst over him and the old woman, then footsteps. The lady trucker was coming downstairs, one baby step at a time, standing up straight and carrying the chair behind her.

He greeted her with an embarrassed laugh. Instead of being alarmed, he was actually happy to see her. Better to be burdened by a young woman than an old one, he was thinking. He smiled. And that smile calmed his mind, as if the sun of hope had just broken through the haze of despair. He noted that she'd already bitten through the handkerchief he'd tied around her mouth, increasing his admiration for the sharpness of her teeth. The chair tied to her body slowed her progress, its rear legs bumping against the stairs with each descending step. He nodded to her, she nodded back. Coming to a stop alongside the old woman, she swung her body like a tiger whipping its tail around, slamming the chair into the woman. He heard her demand ferociously:

‘Let him go!'

The old woman looked up and mumbled what sounded like a curse before letting her arms drop. Freed at last, the investigator stepped back to put some distance between him and the old woman.

She said to the old woman:

‘Do you know who he is?'

The old woman shook her head.

‘He's the Mayor.'

Clambering to her feet, the old woman grabbed the banister and shuddered.

Moved by her plight, the investigator hurried to say:

‘I'll take you to the hospital for a checkup, old auntie.'

The lady trucker said:

‘Untie me.'

He did, and the chair fell to the floor. As the lady trucker was flexing her arms, the investigator turned and ran. He heard her footsteps behind him.

As he ran out the front door, he caught his sleeve on a waiting bicycle.
Craaash!
The bicycle hit the ground.
Riiiip
. There went his coat. The mishap slowed him down just enough for the lady trucker to lasso him around the neck with her rope. She drew the noose tight and choked the breath right out of him.

She dragged him outside as if he were a dog or some other dumb animal. A steady drizzle falling into his eyes clouded his vision as he reached up to loosen the rope's choke-hold. Something round flew past, scaring the hell out of him. Then he saw a shaven-headed little boy run past, soaked to the skin and covered with mud, as he chased down his football. He cocked his head and pleaded:

‘Dear little woman, let me go. I'd hate for anybody to see me like this.'

With a flick of the wrist, she drew the noose even tighter.

‘Aren't you good at running?' she said.

‘I won't run, I won't, not if my life depended on it.'

‘Promise you won't abandon me, that you'll take me with you?'

‘I promise, I give you my word.'

She loosened the rope to let the investigator slip his head out of the noose. He was about to give her hell when dulcet sounds emerged from her tender lips: