i

Absent Heads
by the Sleepy Scholar of Zhenfu

Published by Panurgic Publishing Copyright 2012 by Paul Mason panurge@tcp-ip.or.jp http://sleepyscholar.livejournal.com/

This is the first ten chapters of the complete novel. The file may be distributed freely, so long as no money is charged for so doing. If you have enjoyed the book so far, and wish to read more, please contact the publisher at the above email address, preferably sending by PayPal a fair price for an ebook of this type. So doing will encourage him to finish the sequels, as well as getting you the full version of this book. i s b n 978 4 9391 301 1

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Note: Song Dynasty China did not use the Christian method of reckoning years, The second year of Succour Perceived is what we would now refer to as 1035 CE. Characters: Family names are given first. Most women went by their natal family name. When a woman is being addressed using the name of her husband, this is here indicated using the honorific Madam. Bao Xing clerk of the Xinle yamen Bao Zheng recently appointed Dingzhou prefectural judge, later highranking official Bi Xichong art manager at the Zhou residence Mr Chai flower arranger at the Zhou residence Inspector Chun Yong Dingzhou prefectural investigator Magistrate Du top official in Xinle district Smiler Fan farmers son; childhood friend of Bao Xing Madam Geng wife of Geng Yu Geng Xiu Birdie, young murder victim Geng Yu silk weaver and cloth broker, father of Geng Xiu Mr Han estate manager at the Zhou residence Hu Wei tax contractor and bird fancier Li Ji merchant from the capital Lady Lin first concubine of Zhou Baixian Ma Han one of Bao Zhengs aides, former bandit Ouyang Xiu scholar-official from the Imperial Library, later famous politician and historian Lady Pan second concubine of Zhou Baixian Peng Shou keeper of the official Five Pines Inn Peng Yanyu niece of Peng Shou Administrator Qian inept Dingzhou official Shang Zhizhong heroic sheriff of Anxi, now retired iii

Shi Wenlong brilliant poet, patronised by the Emperor Sun Fangbi dissipated son of a down-at-heel retired official Wang Chao one of Bao Zhengs aides, former bandit Steward Wen majordomo at the Zhou residence Weng Jingchu coroner and doctor of Anxi Lady Xu wife of Zhou Baixian Doctor Yan physician at the Zhou residence Yuxiao maid of Lady Lin Tutor Zeng teacher at the Zhou residence Zhan Zhao the Imperial Cat, a heroic swordsman Madam Zhou wife of Zhou Yuanshou Zhou Baixian historian and murder victim Zhou Yu son of Zhou Baixian Zhou Yuanshou father of Zhou Baixian

iv


DEATH

The killer looks down at the prostrate body sprawled on the ground at the foot of the willow tree. He looks at the embroidery on the young mans red overshirt, at the sheen of his hair, at the waxy yellow pallor of his face, and he wonders what a rich young fellow is doing lying unconscious in the willow park. He turns to go. But just then comes a peal of the sweetest birdsong from nearby. A cage is lying there, and within it a beautiful grey and yellow bird, a painted eyebrows, as famed for its fighting as for its song. He looks at the birdcage, gold-lacquered, with a bright brass hook, and he knows that he lives in a cage. He looks at the bird within, and he sees freedom. Picking up the cage, he turns to go. The unconscious owner chooses that moment to wake up. He tries to get up, but cant his head still hurts, and his limbs arent responding as they should. Instead, he shouts: Hey! What are you doing with my bird? The rich young man squints up at the thief, and watches him slowly, deliberately, put down the cage and look around. He sees him move over to a barrel and reach inside. He looks at the glint of a long, curved knife. He tries once more to get up, but fails. A hand grasps his hair. And the knife, sharper than an executioners blade, cuts into the neck muscles and penetrates, cuts into the bone joint and penetrates, severs the neck and comes free. The blood that fountains from the falling torso stains the ground, but none splashes the murderer. The killer looks into the eyes of the severed head of his victim, and thinks about what to do next. 1

Twenty years later


COnvErSATIOn

How many heads were lost all told in that Dingzhou affair, then? Quite a number, certainly. nine, I believe. It was the occasion on which I was privileged to meet Lord Bao. nine? That many? I wouldnt have credited it. I mean, its understandable in a state of civil disorder, but a bloodbath of such proportions from an ordinary case in a peaceful prefecture Actually, sir, it was more than one case, and far from ordinary at that. But they seemed to get mixed up together in the popular imagination. You know how these things happen? But we cannot complain. It made a name for Bao Zheng, certainly. Such a shame that one with such glittering achievements should later have been forced to retire for nepotism. Bao Xing paused and sipped his wine before replying. As someone who was there at the time, Im afraid I cant accept the suggestion that my master was guilty of nepotism, or that he was forced to retire. His companion and host, the famed poet Shi Wenlong, smiled thinly. As a loyal retainer of Academician Bao, that is your right so long as you do so in private. I am not entirely certain that this chamber can be considered private. The walls are none-too-thick, and there is the matter of the waiters, who burst in with what I consider a most peremptory manner. These sorts of establishments always get like that, said Bao Xing. As soon as they become popular, the waiters feel that they gain so much face that they no longer need to observe the proper deference. But I take your point, sir. Its possible that someone may be eavesdropping on our conversation. Thats it! One can always tell a man who has worked long in the worlds of crime and politics. Ever anxious about spies and intrigues! What about 3

that banging around in the next room? Thatll be criminals too, Ill be bound. Or perhaps Palace Agents, ready to leap in and arrest you? Bao Xing regarded his wine cup, and kept his silence. He was a man of indeterminate age. Though he cultivated a moustache and a short goatee, they still had the look of a young mans, striving for growth rather than settled into shape. At first glance, his face, too, seemed bland and unformed. Yet ghosts of deeper expressions danced beneath the surface, hinting at experience beyond the quotidian, of brushes with the darker side of human nature. His silence spoke of a man who has learned to rein in his contempt for others. Baos drinking companion obviously took more care over his appearance. The scholars hat pushed far back on his head betrayed a middle-aged man, proud of the lustre of his still-black hair. His elegantly trimmed moustache and beard were in keeping with the splendour of his brocaded silk garments. The scion of a noble family, Shi Wenlong had enjoyed the favour of the Emperor for over twenty years. In his youth he had obtained a brilliant First in the Palace Examinations, and been honoured with a succession of titles, culminating in Academician of the Duanming Pavilion. His current lack of a post to accompany his official title was his own choice eschewing political administration he had devoted himself to mastery of the Ancient form of poetry, becoming the Empires finest imitator of the great Tang poet Li Bo. He also maintained a lively interest in the gossip and personalities of Bianliang, the Imperial Capital, which was how he came to be in a private room in the White Kitchen on Anzhou Alley, chatting with Bao Xing, confidant of the disgraced Academician Bao Zheng. Poet Shi had chanced upon Bao Xing in the street outside his house and, scenting a story in the presence of the famous judges man in the capital, immediately invited him for a meal. The White Kitchen was widely regarded as the best restaurant in the city, and Shi deemed it the only suitable place for their rendezvous. The two had already consumed several plates of dishes, and toasted each other liberally with wine, but the waiter chose this moment to burst in with more food. Lambs kidney, sauted with walnut, flavoured with spices, wine 4

and soy sauce, and then deep fried, tempted them from one plate. On the other lay a steamed wild duck in its juices. Poet Shi looked into the eyes of the duck, and a slow smile spread across his face. He gestured surreptitiously at the waiter, and hissed at Bao Xing: I think hes one of them! Baos brows creased in a frown. But as the waiter left the room, Shi giggled. Watch out for the fowl Im sure its poisoned! Here, let me taste it for you, he said, helping himself with his chopsticks to several pieces of the tender, fatty flesh. Bao Xing waited patiently for the poet to complete his laboured witticism. no doubt about it, mouthed Shi indistinctly. Its to die for. In lieu of a reply, Bao refilled his hosts cup. Anyway Mr Bao, continued Shi, when he had sampled both the two new dishes and drained his cup, you were about to tell me what brings you back to the Eastern Capital Thats right, sir. As I said, it relates to the time I first met Lord Bao, when he took over as Administrator of Dingzhou. Oh yes the missing head business. That was all a very long time ago, wasnt it? I do recall it, though. It created quite a stir. I was more interested in criminal cases then than I am now, especially when there was a good story behind them. Id be very interested to hear what really happened. You can never be sure what actually went on. The rumours that go around are untrustworthy, and the official report can miss important background. Bao Xing looked up sharply. You read the official report? Oh yes. I couldnt resist. But I have to tell you, I dont recall it saying much about you. It was very dry. And talking of which, lets get that poor excuse for a waiter in here with a fresh warm flask of wine, and you can wet your throat a little and tell me the whole story. very well. The poet hailed the waiter, loudly. Bao Xing winced slightly at the spectacle of an Academician behaving as if he were in a common inn rather than the most celebrated eatery in Bianliang. Shi resumed his conversation. 5

People imagine that poetry comes from simply observing the beauty of nature, but thats only a small part of it. If you want your work to touch the human heart, then it must be informed by the human heart. So I have a keen interested in the doings of people of all stations, especially those driven by excessive, unbalanced emotion. Do not restrict yourself to mere facts: I wish to know what these people felt, and why they came to be murderers, rogues, thieves or whatever. Of course, I also want to know why a court case settled many years ago should concern you now. But tell me, tell me! Where did it all begin? How were you involved? Bao Xing sat quietly for a moment, collecting his thoughts. It began before Bao Zheng was appointed Administrator of Dingzhou. At that time I was working as a clerk in the yamen of Xinle district. Id been moved there as part of my labour service. You a clerk? I say! And Id had you down as a failed examination candidate. Its a good thing Im not a detective, eh? Perhaps you are a better detective that you think, sir, for I was raised with the expectation of sitting for the examinations. But I was trapped by a combination of circumstances. Xinle district was not very well off, and so my family, though not especially wealthy, was second grade. We had to provide someone for civil duties and my father decided that I could be spared, since I had only one brother, and he worked on our land. Your father put farming ahead of scholarship? How extraordinary! We relied on the cultivation of silkworms for our livelihood. It was a decision made out of necessity. So anyway, you were drafted as a clerk said Shi, downing another cup of wine. I was originally drafted as a village officer, responsible for tax collection. After two years of that, I was rotated to the yamen. But if you had scholarly ambitions, you could have kept up your studies. Surely you must have had plenty of spare time? And ready access to the material of study? Until this case intervened, I was kept busy with the land register. Xinles 6

ruling bureaucrat, Magistrate Du, had made a name for himself for his swift execution of justice, and he drove the yamen staff hard. Shi gestured elaborately. Evidently he felt that the expression of his opinions constituted a performance to which attention must be drawn. How distressing! It is all very well saying that the Imperial Examinations are open to all save merchants, of course but how is a young man to advance himself and work to the greater glory of the Son of Heaven when he is interrupted by a stream of clerical duties? Bao nodded slowly. And although I was drafted, rather than a professional, I was still a clerk, and so mistrusted by the local people. Because I was unpaid, they assumed I must be on the take, like all the other clerks. Shi snorted derisively. Ill say! Show me a clerk, and Ill show you a man with sticky fingers. Magistrate Du kept a close eye on the yamen clerks, but as you are so keenly aware, clerks will always find a way. And Xinle was quite a large yamen. The district had over three thousand households on its books, and the district seat was suitably grand for a provincial town. At the time I was there, there were over a hundred yamen staff, if you include all the clerks, jailers, guards, accountants, secretaries and labourers. It was large enough to have separate posts for both sheriff and registrar, my immediate boss. So if you were a tax collector I had been a tax collector. At the time of this case, I was working on compiling the land register. Shi brushed off the interruption with mild irritation. how did you get involved in criminal work? Bao smiled quizzically. Well, it started one day in midsummer of the second year of Succour Perceived. I realized something was happening when I heard a hubbub of voices from out in the front yamen courtyard. It was the middle of a warm day, and Id been working solidly for several hours, so I pushed my chair back, and made my way across the rear courtyard to the tribunal. Technically it was a dereliction of duty, I suppose. But if I hadnt, things would have turned out very differently, at least for me. And this was the report of the first murder? 7

Indeed. It was the Elder of Yangbin county, a man by the name of Hong, who was responsible, though hed brought with him the two men who had found the corpse. I must say Im impressed by your recall of the events of twenty years ago. Bao Xing nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment, and smiled modestly. I can claim no great talent for recall, sir. You should remember that these events were quite momentous ones for me. I felt I had to keep a written account of them soon after they occurred. And it is an account to which I find myself returning quite regularly. In that case Mr Bao, return to it once more, and tell on! So Bao Xing told him what had happened.

1
From the private journal of Bao Xing It started because I was drafted for labour service. Wandering around the district collecting taxes was probably good for my health, but it also got me used to seeing people with sour expressions on their faces. And as a potential examination candidate, I felt it well beneath my dignity. When I was rotated to the yamen I thought I was at least lucky to have been assigned the job of an unpaid clerk, rather than being made a Supply Master, who would have to accompany deliveries of taxes and official goods to the capital. I got the chance to live in the town, and I am fascinated by the bustle of urban life. People say that those who live in towns forget their families, forget propriety, forget everything save the daily pursuit of pleasure. But the people who say that are countryfolk, jealous of the amenities to be had within the walls of a district seat. I was born a country boy. My father had a small holding among the low, rolling land that lines the banks of Sand river. Unlike the country further south, nearer the capitals, we didnt suffer from that terrible sameness of colour, the dull yellow of the loess plains. We had a variety of woodlands, and the meadows were decked with bright flowers. It was only the smell, I felt, that suffered from monotony. Perhaps it was simply that I was too used to it, but the rich, earthy scent of the country could not compare for me with the tartness of the town. A walk down a single street at mealtime would yield an artists palette of cooking odours and more besides not all of them pleasant, but all a part of the texture of town life. Xinle was large enough to impress me a lot when I first started work there, though I tried not to show it. My immediate boss was the registrar, the master of paperwork. The sheriff, commanding around thirty archers, 9

had a separate office and barracks in the south of the town. Most of the crime in the area was well within the authority of the magistrate to deal with. Anything serious enough to merit more than a hundred blows of the heavy rod would be referred to the Dingzhou prefectural yamen in Anxi, and in practice this meant little apart from banditry. As the northern part of the prefecture bordered on the Kingdom of Liao, there was no shortage of forts to dissuade the bandits. Xinle, in the south, suffered from occasional roving bands, but as long as the sheriffs and bandit-suppressing officers did their jobs the people were safe and only the foolish lost their possessions. Everyone remembered the example of Shang Zhizhong, a sheriff of Anxi District. During the reign of Zhenzong, in the 8th year of the Auspicious Charm of the Great Centre reign period, he had personally led an attack on a group of bandits. Shang was wounded by an arrow in the fight, but this didnt stop him leaping onto his horse when the bandits fled and pursuing them seventy li to the border. He cut off two heads and rode back with them. Even though this had all happened nineteen years previously, the story still inspired. Old Shang Zhizhong was retired now, but his son was a patrolling officer, stationed in a fort at the other end of the prefecture, and didnt mind people hearing about his father. He even carried his fathers bow for good luck. Bandits we were prepared for. But the events of that midsummer day caught us by surprise. I was hot, and bored with my work, and the registrar was dozing, so when I heard the fuss I slipped out and joined the throng. Id never seen so many people attending the tribunal. Magistrate Du, a scrupulously neat man with a thin face, slick black hair and neatly-trimmed beard, took his place just as I managed to push through the crowds. Kneeling in front of the magistrates dais were two peasants and the Elder of Yangbin County. I knew Hong vaguely. The peasants I didnt recognize, but the stink that wafted from them was familiar enough. The magistrate didnt waste time in getting things under way. He had always made a point of inculcating in anyone who reported to him the value 10

of brevity. The important facts were to be given immediately, and details would be extracted by the magistrates questioning. Hong excelled himself. Theres a headless corpse in the Willow Park, he said. Most of the crowd already knew, of course, but even so, there were enough who didnt for the pause that followed Hongs admirably succinct delivery of his report to be followed by an audible drawing of breath. Even Magistrate Du seemed taken aback by the abrupt revelation. Ah where is the head? he inquired, seemingly at a loss for a better question. We cant find it, Your Honour, replied Hong. It emerged that the two peasants had been carrying loads of manure through the Willow Park that morning, and had found their path blocked by the headless body. Scared out of their wits, they had quickly raised a fuss, rousing everyone who lived near the park, and especially the local Elder. Hong had wasted little time in reporting the matter to the magistrate, but even so, nothing travels faster than neighbours gossip, and by the time he arrived at the yamen he was accompanied by a crowd of the curious, swelled by those attracted not by the news itself, but simply by the crowd. This is how the popular imagination works, like a stone rolling down a hillside. As it rolls, it starts other stones rolling, until soon the whole hillside is moving. But what was the cause? no more than a single stone. The magistrates questioning established that, so far, no one knew who the victim was; certainly no one had come forward to report a missing person, or any wrongdoing. All the same, there was no doubt that this was deliberate murder with mutilation, one of the Ten Abominable Crimes, so it had to be reported. First he dispatched a runner to the sheriff to have a guard of archers placed on the murder scene. next, his eyes alighted on me. Bao! he shouted, as by now even the menacing glares of the yamen guards couldnt silence the susurrus from the assembled townsfolk. I thought I was about to be punished for deserting my duties. Youre a good rider, arent you? Get the fastest horse in the yamen and take this report to the prefecture immediately. Personal attention of the Administrator! 11

The report was a hastily scribbled note which he quickly folded and sealed. And so I found myself riding at the speed of an Imperial Courier up the main road to the Dingzhou prefectural office in Anxi. As I said, this was before Lord Bao became Administrator, and so I found myself passing Magistrate Dus report into the large and sweaty hands of Administrator Qian. It was the first time I had come close to such an elevated official, and I must confess that I was less impressed than I had expected. The florid Qian seemed to be permanently suppressing a yawn. His attitude also percolated down through the ranks. In comparison with Xinles smooth-running yamen, the prefectural offices appeared to me to be a mess: a collection of people who knew nothing but their own little patch, and had no interest in getting anything done. I had to ask half-a-dozen guards and clerks before I found someone who would inform the Administrator of the arrival of an important dispatch from Xinle. In a tone bordering on disinterest, Qian issued instructions that the coroner, the prefectural police inspector, and some other officers were to be sent back with me the next day to take over the investigation. I started to ask about a change of horses, but was waved away. The local officials are our fathers and mothers, so they say, but I never knew a parent care so little for his childrens welfare as Administrator Qian of Dingzhou. He died suddenly some months after our meeting, and I mourned him less than I did the headless corpse in the Willow Park. Perhaps my lack of respect for him also stems from my appreciation of the qualities of his successor? I found somewhere to stay near the prefectural offices, hoping that my expenses would be defrayed by the investigation. When officials from the prefecture were summoned, the burden of their expenses fell on those who lived in the area the crime was committed, and I hoped that my own expenses would be similarly covered. In the interests of furthering my local knowledge, I took the opportunity to visit several establishments in Anxis entertainment district, and discovered that the good ones were markedly better than the best that Xinle had to offer. 12

The next morning offered my first opportunity to meet Chun Yong, the police inspector of Dingzhou. Quite why he was sent when we had our own sheriff I wasnt sure. I can only guess that while Administrator Qian was as slack as his manner suggested, he wished to appear to be doing something about the affair, making it the responsibility of others. Inspector Chun wasnt much older than me, and didnt strike me as the confident sort. His face looked like it had been sharpened on a grindstone, with cheeks that plunged like the gorges on the Long river. But unlike Qian he was polite to me, even friendly. The coroner, on the other hand, seemed rather more aloof. I suppose it came from keeping company with the dead. Inspector Chun introduced him to me before we left, with what I thought unnecessarily elaborate formality. This is Coroner Weng, a distinguished graduate of the national Medical University. In addition to his duties as our coroner, he is also our foremost practising physician. I clasped my hands in the approved manner and made my bow. The coroner acknowledged my greeting with the faintest nod of the head, his waxlike features registering no discernible emotion. He had a habit of moistening his lips with his tongue very rapidly, which put me in mind of a lizard. With a good nights rest and a feed, my horse was just about recovered and ready to go, and we made good time back to Xinle. I thought that once we arrived I would be able to extricate myself from this business, and take a well-deserved bath. Magistrate Du thought differently. Perhaps while we had been away it had occurred to him that I had no business being in the tribunal when I should have been completing the latest entries in the local register. Since Elder Hong had returned to the Willow Park, the task of escorting the coroner, Inspector Chun, and his men, to the site of the murder fell to me. The Willow Park, as I said, was in Yangbin County, a little way outside the north Gate, in rolling landscape that owed more to the plains to the east of us than the foothills of the Taihang range to our west. It was a fertile area, and there were plenty of farms. Mulberry trees were common food for the all-important silkworms but there were also wheat and millet, as 13

well as the livestock that tends to be more common in the northern circuits. The Willow Park was an area of particular beauty, popular with all classes. nowhere in the district was there a more unlikely location for a scene of violence. I had never before seen a body like this. Certainly I had seen the dead relatives mainly at funerals, but that was after the ritual washing by womenfolk. Here was a corpse in the raw, and worse, a corpse without a head. I can still remember it vividly, and the impression it made on me remains to this day. It was almost as if my souls split into two, some cleaving to the yang and the others to the yin. Part of me was seized with revulsion and nausea, while at the same time I found my eyes drawn to the stump of the corpses neck. Even while my stomach threatened to punish me for my immoderation the previous night, it was with a sense of detachment that I perceived odd details. Chief among these was the lack of injury to the body. One would expect such a death to be the culmination of a terrible fight, and yet there was no sign of injury apart from the single fatal wound. I was also fascinated by the bluish discoloration of the pallid skin, and the way in which the spine had been severed cleanly, between vertebrae. While Coroner Weng examined the body, the inspector and his men scoured the area. This part of the Willow Park was quite secluded, screened on all sides by trees. The peasants had found the corpse in the late morning, but it occurred to me that the deed must have been done no more than a few hours earlier, for here among the willows the bird-fanciers gathered before going to work in the morning, to talk and trade and match their birds against each other. Once they dispersed, returning to the fields, to shops in the town, or to classrooms, the Willow Park became a lonely, empty place. They say that willow repels demons, but it didnt work here, commented one of the inspectors men. This was done by a man of flesh and blood, said Chun Yong. More dangerous by far.

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COnvErSATIOn

I have known many like Qian, observed Poet Shi. His kind infests the middle levels of the bureaucracy. On every encounter I am reminded of one reason why I am glad to be out of the stream. But youre not entirely out of the stream, are you? I mean, you may not be in administration, but you are nevertheless an Academician. You are an advisor to the Emperor himself! Shi, evidently flattered, adjusted his robes, and took an elaborate sip of his wine. While it is true that I have enjoyed frequent informal audiences with His Imperial Majesty, I still prefer to think of myself as a poet, an artist. In my soul I am no different from the hermit living in a cave in the mountains. I, too, live at a remove from society, refining my spirit. Shi took the opportunity to shovel more fine food into his bowl. This place really does live up to its reputation, doesnt it? he continued. I must remember to write an appreciative poem on the wall before we leave. Perhaps your story will furnish me with more inspiration? But where were we? Oh yes, youd told me about the execrable Qian. What of this Chun fellow? Inspector Chun was cut from an entirely different cloth from Qian. There was no doubt in my mind that he was as dedicated to his job as Qian was lackadaisical. So you respected him? Certainly at the start he was someone I looked up to. Later on I had cause to question some of his methods Well, he didnt achieve any significant success in administration, so he cant have been that competent. I have to say, I dont really believe in the institution of the sheriff. They didnt have them in the Tang Dynasty, you know. Criminals should be caught by the time-honoured means: by the 15

members of their own community! not by paid snoops. And in the case of this Chun, I seem to recall from the official report of this case that he was in no way involved in its resolution. That is true, but as I will explain, the case was complex, and so, therefore was its resolution. Which we are still a long way from! I was fascinated by your description of the body. It really must have been a thrilling sight: a disturbing absence throwing all your ideas about the nature of humanity into question! I wouldnt go quite that far, commented Bao, softly.

16

2
From the private journal of Bao Xing We discovered the identity of the body while we were examining it. The archers did their best to keep gawpers away, but try as they might there was a steady flow of people eager to see the grisly remains. One of these let out a little cry, and, ignoring the archers, ran right up to the corpse. Falling to his knees, he reached out to grasp the silken overshirt of the victim, and began to wail loudly. Well, said Hong, who had been hanging around with the inspectors men, now we have a plaintiff. The man was Geng Yu, a rich cloth producer. He was a middle-aged fellow, quite well dressed, as befitted his profession. We escorted him back with us to give our report to the Magistrate, and on the way I took the opportunity to listen to the conversation between Inspector Chun and Geng Yu. I felt sorry for Geng. His reaction, and the tears which sprang from his eyes and coursed down his cheeks all the way to the yamen, marked him as a father with more than the usual attachment to his child. To so lose control of himself in public, to be prepared to lose face in such a way, he must have doted on his son. I guessed then, rightly as it turned out, that Geng Yu had just lost his only son. He wasnt an especially old man, though his hair was flecked with silver, and he did not yet cultivate a beard. He was evidently not short of money, but even a mountain of golden ingots cannot soften such a loss. With no descendants other than daughters, he would be dependent on more distant relatives to tend his wooden tablet after his death, and care for the well-being of his spirit. Yet there was more to it than that. Geng Yu was now 17

suffering the grief that comes from devotion with an admixture of guilt, for he had spoiled his son, and clearly blamed himself for the tragedy. He was only sixteen! Geng Yu told the Inspector. He used to come almost every day to the Willow Park to match his bird against others Match his bird, you say? said Chun Yong. This was the first we heard of the victims bird, a creature which obviously housed a spirit of darkness, adept at bringing cruel death to the innocent. This would also explain its prodigious fighting ability. The dead young man, Geng Xiu, had never lost with the bird a grey-yellow huamei, with distinctive white markings, like brows, above the eyes. Geng Yu was brought up before Magistrate Du to make his accusation. Under the magistrates terse interrogation, Geng Yu provided us with a few more morsels of information. It was clear that Geng Xiu had been a most pampered child. Though he had reached the age of sixteen, no arrangements of any kind had been made for his future: no marriage plans, or anything of the sort. Worse still, he was entirely unskilled at his fathers craft. rather than learning the art and practice of silk weaving or brokerage, he had spent his days in nothing but indulgence and his greatest indulgence was breeding birds. Birdie Geng the neighbours called him even to Geng Yus face yet the father so doted on his son that he did nothing to correct matters. On the day of his death, Birdie had lain late in his bed. Upon rising, he had eaten a quick breakfast of oilcakes before snatching up his caged bird and hurrying off. It was the last time Geng Yu had seen his son alive. Your Honour, my son has been murdered, and I dont know who by. now I have no son to support me. I demand justice! Detectives will be sent to catch the criminal within ten days, replied Magistrate Du. Your duty now is to buy a coffin. But how can we bury him incomplete? How will he fare in the next world without his head? We will discover the head. You are to buy a coffin, and place the body in it without moving it from its current location. As soon as the head is found 18

you will be permitted to continue with the funeral rites. Your son can be buried in three months, in accordance with ancient custom. For all Magistrate Dus confidence, the head was not found in the next few days; nor was a criminal brought to justice. After seven days had gone by with no developments, Geng Yu took the dramatic step of having a notice posted all around the district. The sum of fifty strings of cash, it announced, to be given as reward to the finder of the head of Geng Xiu, murdered in the Willow Park. Moreover, the sum of one hundred strings of cash to the man what catches his murderer. This notice annoyed Magistrate Du. He didnt like ordinary people arrogating to themselves the duties of officialdom, and he was a harsh critic of poor literary style. Man what catches? he was muttering as he stalked into the room where I worked. Bao! Youre involved in this headless corpse case! Draw up a notice announcing that the yamen is offering ah twenty strings for the missing head, and fifty for the capture of the murderer. And make sure your prose is perfect! I did my best. My efforts were posted up in front of the yamen the next day, when people around town were celebrating the festival of Our Lord Thunder. Lei Gong punishes those who commit secret crimes, so it was said. My family used to celebrate his birthday with offerings because he was known to lend a hand with the cultivation of silkworms. So I put a bit of food out for him now. It wouldnt do my family business any harm, and having seen the victims corpse, I thought anything I could do to help bring the Willow Park murderer to justice was worth doing. By now I had realized that this case was something I couldnt escape. I already seemed to have become Inspector Chuns unofficial liaison with the Xinle yamen, and was accompanying him as he made inquiries. Coroner Weng had waited a few days, his temper souring with each passing hour. With no head forthcoming he had finally announced that he had an important guest staying in his household, and it wouldnt take a man of his skill to spot a severed head, before making a surly departure for Anxi. This was my first experience of a judicial inquiry. For some reason I had 19

always imagined it was rather easy to find criminals. I suppose I thought that some sense of guilt, some disturbance in the harmony of the universe, would make criminals stand out, enabling them to be easily spotted. While travelling round the district with Inspector Chun I soon learned that if such a method existed, it was more difficult to apply than it seemed. What we did get was a different view of the local people. I was already fairly well acquainted with some of the local notables from my time as a tax collector, and I now learned about the different faces people put on for you, depending on what hat you are wearing. Of course the first group that Chun Yong questioned were the bird fanciers of the Willow Park. They were our main suspects. Birdie Gengs prize huamei had not been found near his body, so someone must have stolen it. Whoever had stolen it must be the murderer, and who would want to steal a prize bird more than a bird fancier, especially one whose own bird had already been vanquished? Put like that it seemed easy enough, but our investigations didnt go so smoothly. I went along with Inspector Chun one morning to mingle with the bird fanciers. A varied bunch they were, but none of them struck us immediately as the murdering sort. Most were careful to avoid the murder site, where the victims remains had been placed in a stout, red-lacquered coffin. Who could blame them? After such a grisly death Birdie Gengs headless spirit was sure to be abroad, and no sensible man would court bad joss without good reason. I learned from Inspector Chun that there are really only two ways of finding a criminal. The first is enshrined in the law: concrete evidence. If you find a stolen horse in a mans possession, then the horse is concrete evidence that the man is a thief. This is an important rule. Without concrete evidence our courts would be full of frivolous accusations and lawsuits. Imagine what a society that would be, where people spend more time before the magistrate trying to deprive their neighbours of their land, than working on their own plots! The second was character. It is an undeniable fact, said Inspector Chun, that criminals are of inferior character, and this inferior character will 20

manifest not just in criminal acts, but in other more easily detectable ways. Thus to find a criminal it is necessary to search for someone who shows no respect for authority, someone who fails to perform their allotted responsibilities satisfactorily, someone who is lazy, licentious, or otherwise lacking in the proper Confucian virtues. Why, that sounds like Administrator Qian! I started to say, but managed to bite back a comment which might have marked me out as a criminal in the inspectors eyes. Inspector Chuns method was to listen to all the gossip from the local area, sift through it to make a list of the worst offenders, and then raid them in turn, to try to find the concrete evidence needed for a conviction. Before going to the Willow Park, he had already learned of two bird-lovers who were the object of censure by the more conscientious local figures. Hu Wei was a tax contractor for a large market held three times a month in a valley several li to the east of the town, while Sun Fangbi was the son of a retired official. By far the largest number of complaints had concerned Sun Fangbi, who was a gambler and a rake in addition to his bird-fancying proclivities. But Inspector Chun assured me that this was mitigated by his background. Hes from a scholars family, and so he has been brought up in a household fragrant with the teachings of the classics. Thus it is likely that his bad character is entirely expressed through these petty transgressions. This Hu, on the other side, is soiled with the worst kind of mercantile activity. His job is extorting money from people, and we know that this can so easily spill into crime. I wondered if his judgment was not also influenced by the fact that it was much easier to send archers to search the house of a commoner, than that of an officials son. I remembered the words of the great historian, Sima Qian: To judge a man correctly, there are just five things to look for: with whom he associates, with whom he shares his wealth when he is rich, who he recommends when he is powerful, what he doesnt do when hes in trouble, and what he doesnt take when he has no money. no mention there of virtue springing from the pages of the sages. We asked after Hu upon arriving at the park, and were quickly pointed in 21

the direction of a gangly youth with eyebrows that met in the middle. These brows fascinated me. They were so delicate as to resemble those false brows drawn by women of high class, or the better kind of flower girl. I must confess that while Inspector Chun talked with Hu I was too busy examining his eyebrows to catch much of the conversation. It turned out to be a good way of judging the fellows character. Without really listening to the words he was saying, I nevertheless became aware of his manner, his way of carrying himself. There was no question, he was confident. Whatever polite language he may have used, there wasnt a hint of deference in his manner as he replied to the inspector. Indeed, he had a habit of jiggling his eyebrows as he spoke, which I couldnt help but feel suggested amusement, perhaps even at the inspectors expense. According to the criteria Inspector Chun had earlier expounded, Hu certainly should be guilty. But it was difficult to imagine how that could be the case. For all his confidence, his frame was sparse and ill developed. I am no strongman myself, but there is more muscle on one of my arms than there was on both of his. I could see no way such a man could have wielded the weapon which had beheaded Geng Xiu. To be honest, Hu looked to me quite as unlikely a murderer as the rest of the bird-fanciers that had gathered that summers morning. Inspector Chun didnt share with me any conclusions he had drawn from his conversation, but turned straight to the matter of Sun Fangbi. I have to admit, I thought this was a far more promising direction for our inquiries. Although I had never met the rascal himself I was familiar with the tax affairs of his family from my time as a tax collector. It was evident to me that he was bleeding his father dry. For all Inspector Chuns confidence in the benign influence of exposure to the classics, I had met the father and seen the family home, and felt that even the sages of antiquity werent up to the job. My suspicions were heightened when we discovered that Sun Fangbi wasnt there that morning, nor had he been for several days. With the angry spirit of his victim on the prowl, would a murderer voluntarily return to the scene of the crime? I was looking forward to visiting the Sun household. My anticipation 22

was whetted further when the inspectors investigators reported back. While we had been at the Willow Park, they had been at Hus house conducting a thorough search. There was no trace of a murder weapon, and though there were plenty of cages and birds, there were none that matched the detailed description we had obtained from Geng Yu. Moreover, when they had questioned the Elder of the periodic market, they had learned that there had been a market on the day of the murder: Hu was present, and had no doubt been seen by dozens of witnesses. Inspector Chun nodded ruefully, but didnt seem surprised, so he must have learned the same from talking with the man himself. Off to the Sun family mansion we went. As I mentioned earlier, people look at you differently when you are on different business. When I had last visited Mister Sun Senior, the retired magistrate, I had been treated with all the contempt that derives from a combination of position and poverty. At first I had felt rather sorry for Mister Sun. What a terrible misfortune for one who had loyally served the Emperor, to be unable to pay his taxes, and thus be shamed before the likes of me! He didnt even have a managing servant to spare him the embarrassment of dealing with me directly. But as he had railed at me with an ever more venomous tone, I had started to realize that he was turning against me all the hatred and resentment that he refused to show his son. Having been subjected to so much animosity on the previous occasion, I thought I might enjoy this visit. My anticipation was well rewarded. As soon as Inspector Chun was announced, Mister Sun came rushing over to welcome him personally. As his eyes fell upon me, I saw the light of recognition in his eyes, mingled with the starkest fear the kind of fear inspired by inevitable disaster. Mister Sun had been waiting for this day for many years, and to have me, of all people, present was the final indignity. We have come to make inquiries about the Honourable Suns esteemed son, announced the inspector. Sun was nodding before Chun Yong had even finished the sentence. The inspector seemed a little disconcerted to meet with so little resistance. Please join me for tea while we discuss the details of the case, said Mister 23

Sun. I was not included in the invitation, so I had to stand around trying not to look like a flunkey while the two of them went at length through the required pleasantries, and then through another set presumably those reserved for people who are uncomfortable with their situation and would much rather be demonstrating their own culture and refinement than getting to the point. For all Mister Suns distinguished history in officialdom, I could easily imagine Magistrate Dus exasperation turning to anger, were he present. Finally, the subject turned, with great reluctance on the part of both of the speakers, to the younger Sun. I hope it is not necessary for him to attend the yamen, said the father, Especially given his current condition. If I might be so impertinent as to inquire what condition? replied Inspector Chun. Mister Sun paused, and I noticed a slight twitching at the corner of his mouth. Why, he has an unspeakable disease of a certain part of his anatomy. He has been bedridden for the last two tendays. There was another long pause as Inspector Chun allowed the news to sink in. May I May we be permitted to observe your esteemed son? We were led into the back courtyard of the house, which I noted was even more decrepit than the front rooms, and across to a building. It seemed that Sun preferred to maintain at least some distance from his son. Although I was obviously not welcome, I managed to stick close to Inspector Chun, and so was able to peer into the gaudily decorated room in which Sun Fangbi slept. He was there now, and looked up from his bed with a ghastly yellow face. I wished Coroner Weng, whose credentials had so much impressed the inspector, were here to make an examination, but to my untrained eye, the younger Sun appeared to be very ill indeed. Inspector Chun exchanged no more than a few words with the son, and then, with obvious eagerness, he made our excuses and we left. *** 24

We had no more luck with any of the rest of our investigation. We sent the best doctor we had out to the Sun Mansion to examine Sun Fangbi, and he returned to assure us that in his considered opinion the youth would not have had the strength to walk any distance, or wield a weapon, at the time of the murder and more, that it was by no means certain that he would survive his disease. He had refrained from imparting the latter information to Sun Senior. We had plenty of witnesses confirm that Hu had been at the market on the day of the murder. One by one, we checked up on all the malcontents of the district, and found nothing.

25


DEATH

Old Dog waves vaguely at his two sons. Since he is mostly blind, and completely drunk, it looks more like a drowning man grasping for a branch, but that doesnt matter. There are only the three of them in the hovel. Dont forget what I told you, my sons, he slurs. Your future depends on it. Go to sleep! answers the eldest, almost as drunk as his father. Weve drunk all the wine. Old Dog rolls over on to his back. A little while later the silence is rent by his snoring. Its a pity we have to lose Dad, whispers the younger son. Dont be soft. He has to go sooner or later anyway, and this way we inherit more than this stinking shack, his brother replies. All right then. Well wait until hes fast asleep. Why bother? Do it while the waters hot. The sooner the better. So saying, he lurches over to the kitchen, returning with a rust-encrusted cleaver. His brother blanches, despite the warmth of the wine he has drunk. It is one thing to talk; quite another to see the instrument bared. But he has little time to protest. Up goes the cleaver, and then down on the unprotected neck. It is a very messy business, all told. In fact, it takes a couple of hacks, for the cleaver is none too sharp. But in the end it is over, and the elder son throws the head in a sack. You bury him! he orders. Do it up by the Yellow Cliff; no one goes there. Theres no wine for the libation. Ill burn some joss for him. 26

Dont bother about that. Just do a tidy job and get back here. Im off to sort out our inheritance.

27

3
From the private journal of Bao Xing After ten days, Inspector Chun had to abandon the search and return to his office in Anxi. This left us with a problem. Since formal responsibility for catching the criminal lay with the prefectural police inspector, our sheriff refused to have anything to do with the investigation. We could only wait. And wait we did. We were in a strange situation, and I could tell that it vexed Magistrate Du. He was a man who lived by the letter of the law, and now the letter of the law had tied his hands behind his back. A murder had been committed in his jurisdiction, and would show up on his record, but the investigation was the responsibility of a higher level of the administration. If he were to interfere with it he could be severely reprimanded by the central authorities, who were unlikely to accept Administrator Qians lackadaisical approach to administration in mitigation. The magistrate found a partial solution, though it hardly seemed to satisfy him. Because I had been seconded to assist the prefectural officials, he reasoned that I could be claimed to represent a part of the prefectural investigative team. Thus if he granted me the status of a temporary investigator, I could continue to search for the villain, and call upon the assistance of the local archers if necessary. It was a double-edged sword for me. When the magistrate first told me, my first reaction was a wave of joy, which seemed to leap up from the pit of my stomach and turn my world upside-down. Here was an escape from the drudgery of household land registers. It was only a little while later that I realized what I was in for. Failure to catch the criminal in the specified time limit would lead to a beating, and while Magistrate Du was by no means the 28

sadist that some other officials were, he was quite rigorous about keeping promises. For apprehending bandits and murderers there are three time limits, each of thirty-three days, with increasing punishments at the end of each. Although the time limits and punishments would also be applied to Hong, the Elder of Yangbin County, this was scant consolation to me. It was painfully evident to me that I didnt know how to go about catching a murderer. I had received some advice from Inspector Chun, but it hadnt helped us very much while he was in Xinle, and I didnt consider it much in the days after he left. Instead I wandered the district asking as many questions as I could. Most places I went I was treated with suspicion especially by those households from which I had collected taxes. All the same I managed to accumulate more and more gossip. Some of it concerned the dissipated lifestyle of Sun Fangbi, which I must confess I found interesting even though he had been discounted as a suspect. I learned more about Hu Wei, and marvelled at how he used his position to extort money, without apparently provoking anyone to take him to court. The secret, it seemed, was always to prey on those who were themselves soiled in some way. I felt torn when I considered what opportunities for enrichment I had missed during my time as a tax collector. Part of me was proud that I had remained honest. Another part of me questioned whether remaining honest through ignorance of an opportunity for larceny was necessarily a virtue to be proud of. I had always been taught that hard work and a modest, unassuming nature was the sure way to reward in this world. The more I inquired about this murder, however, the more I started to doubt. Even the circumstances of the victim and his family seemed to contradict this wisdom of the ancients. In deference to their mourning, I subjected the Geng household to as little questioning as possible. Indeed I spoke mainly to Master Geng. He would not allow me to speak to his wife, which was in accord with the taboo on the mingling of the sexes, but I wondered whether this occasion might not be recognised as an exception to the rule. As it was, I formed my 29

impression of Madam Geng from the words of her husband and I felt that it was she who ruled the affairs of the Geng household. I was to have my impression confirmed by others who told me more about the victims family. Birdie Geng Xiu had been pampered, by his mother as much as by his father. Geng Yu was well off, and could easily have supported a concubine in order to secure the familys future with more heirs, but Madam Geng forbade it. It was also Madam Geng who ensured that Geng Yu drove his client weaving households hard. I had been kept away from them on my visit, and now I learned why: forced to work long hours for a meagre living, Gengs clients were far from content. Geng provided them with high-quality looms and the equipment required to produce a fancy array of cloths, but in return they couldnt sell the cloth they produced on the open market, but through him, at very low prices. Was it possible that one could have murdered Geng Xiu for revenge? I resolved to have a quiet word with a weaver if the opportunity arose. As my inquiries yielded rumours, but nothing concrete, I started to think a little more about the crime. The first thing that occurred to me was how unlikely it was that someone had planned it. Geng Xius late arrival at the Willow Park was mere coincidence. If he had arrived earlier then there would have been others around. And no one not even one of Geng Yus weavers could have been sure that Geng Xiu would take his prize bird to the park on this particular day. no, something in me was quite certain that this murder had been committed on impulse. Something in me, deeper than the mind that thinks, responded to the circumstances. It was the same something that had taken me out of my office and into the tribunal on the day of the murder. It was the spirit of the moment. That meant we were looking either for someone who followed Birdie Geng that morning, or for someone who might pass through the Willow Park on an average day. We were also looking for someone skilled and powerful enough to creep up on Geng Xiu and deliver the fatal blow. For there had been no sign of a struggle: Geng Xiu had not had an opportunity to defend himself. The more I thought along these lines, the more frightened 30

I became. It sounded as if the killer was a youxia a wandering hero. Of course, I knew of the great historian Sima Qians Biographies of Wandering Heroes, and his descriptions of their military prowess and upright behaviour had inspired me. But what if such a person should turn to crime? I am no warrior myself, and the prospect of encountering such a myrmidon began to weigh increasingly heavily on me. I started to lose sleep. The heroes of antiquity were able to defend themselves against whole armies; even if I were able to enlist the services of Shang Zhizhongs son and his patrolling cavalry unit, it might be to no avail. Then there was the curious detail of the missing head. I felt there must be some significance to it. My first thought was of a trophy. Once again the lurid stories of violence from the past claimed my imagination. Had not Sheriff Shang brought back the heads of bandits as trophies? I started to imagine my opponent, a shaggy-maned figure stalking the land, a row of severed heads tied to his belt and a songbird in his hand. The ridiculousness of my imaginings came home to me at last. We had talked to all the households in the vicinity of the Willow Park and more besides. We had heard nothing. A figure such as I imagined would have been noticed and reported. And what was more: why would such a warrior take a head as a trophy and steal a bird in its cage? The prize painted eyebrows thus returned to my thoughts. There was no sign of the bird or its cage, so it must have been stolen. If we could only find the bird, we would find the murderer, and the case would be solved. The missing head was no more than a distraction. After all, it was as Inspector Chun had said: it all came down to concrete evidence. Proud of my reasoning, I went out to find the bird. My problem was that birds had not formed a very prominent part of my education. Though I had heard several descriptions of the missing huamei, I was under no illusions about my ability to recognize it. I needed help. Perhaps it was the coincidence of the eyebrows, but my thoughts turned to Hu Wei the tax contractor. He knew about birds in fact he had almost certainly seen Geng Xius bird close up. Chun Yong felt that he was nothing but a petty criminal, but I wasnt so sure. He made a good living by 31

extorting money from traders, it was true, but I didnt feel he was necessarily so much worse than Administrator Qian. And there was little doubt that a sharp mind was required for the life he led. The trick was how to persuade him to help me. I went out to see him the next market day. The periodic market was held not far from the Li Family village, in a picturesque valley with a river running through it. Farmers came from round about, and there were even some boat people who came upstream from the coastal prefectures to peddle their wares. The markets festival atmosphere would have been impossible within the walls of Xinle. It was easy to find Hu. There was a long queue in front of a tent, and I joined it, resigning myself to a long wait. I put it to productive use by acting the nervous neophyte and asking all those who emerged how much they had been charged. My turn finally came and I entered the tent. I had to suppress a smile, for Hu was sitting at the far end behind a table, flanked by heavies, for all the world like a magistrate in miniature. He also played the game like a magistrate, ignoring me as I entered and concentrating instead on the entries he was making in a ledger. I approached his table and waited, observing some of the numbers in his ledger. After completing a line he glanced up casually, and was almost successful in disguising his surprise at recognizing me. Youre one of the prefectural inspectors men, arent you? he said, in the sort of jocular tone I had noticed was often used to express aversion. You were in the Willow Park while your cronies were turning my house over. What is it now? I played his own game, saying nothing for a few seconds, but studying him with a half-smile. He was confident, that was certain. I suppose I saw in his confidence a challenge to which I couldnt resist rising. I have a job for you, I said. I had been hoping to intrigue him, but his fancy eyebrows failed to register any surprise. Out with it, then as you may have noticed Im quite busy. Its about the murder, I began. Geng? What about it? he replied. I could sense a growing hostility. 32

Youre familiar with his prize bird, I presume. If you can help me find the bird, youll qualify for a share of the reward. He toyed with an ingot of gold on the table no doubt placed there simply to impress his clients, who would most likely be offering him rice or cloth. And save you a beating? I cursed inwardly at the accuracy of his grasp of the situation. I had only one more die to throw. Perhaps not just me. You see, Ive discovered that the tax and labour service records list you as belonging to a fourth grade household. But there seems to have been a clerical blunder at some point in the past, as its very clear you are actually third grade His lips curled in a sneer. Dont be nave, he said. no common policeman is going to get me that way. not when the village officers know their business. Momentarily distracted again by his dancing eyebrows, I paused. He obviously took this as evidence of my discomfort, for he started to smile. There is one problem with that, I said. You see Im not actually an inspector. Im a clerk, and my job is checking and updating the Xinle household land register. I found that on the death of your father, the estate was split three ways, but it didnt take very much research to find out that you subsequently acquired the other two portions from your brothers, and that all the rent and other income from their land actually comes to you. His eyebrows stopped moving. You cant get away with Theres no need for me to get away with anything, or discuss anything with the magistrate, for that matter, I said. I just need a little help from you in locating the bird, and youll even be paid if you succeed. He stared long at me with cold eyes, and I noticed what a contrast they made with his brows. You must be Bao, he said quietly. I felt flattered by my apparent fame, though his tone was far from friendly. Ill see what I can do, but youd better not be lying about that reward. I left as casually as I could, doing my best to disguise the fact that I had 33

been lying about his chances of getting any of the reward at least, the official reward. After my interview I didnt have high expectations of results, but two days later Hu and his shadows turned up at the yamen asking after me. I hear from my friends that you havent been doing much work on the land register recently, he said, and I found my attention drawn to the menace of those cold eyes, rather than to the eyebrows which had so amused me before. I tried to brazen it out. I am acting as a prefectural officer now. Good for you. Im sure its a better job than your old one, and safer too? I tried to maintain a steady gaze. Anyway, a deals a deal and a reward is a reward, he continued. I can tell you that a travelling merchant was seen with a bird that sounds like Gengs at the Five Pines Inn the day after the murder. Who was he? Where is he? Dont know. Ill see if I can find out more. You get that reward ready for me. *** Of course, I was elated at the lead, but no sooner had Hu disappeared from view than doubts assailed me. He really wasnt to be trusted. What if he had arranged the theft of the bird and was simply spinning me this story to put me off the scent? Just because he hadnt been at the Willow Park when the murder was committed didnt mean he couldnt be behind it. Whether or not this was true, I couldnt pass the opportunity by. Since my expenses from my trip to Anxi hadnt been met, and didnt look like they would be, I didnt feel too guilty about requisitioning the horse I had ridden before, and spurring it out of town to the Five Pines Inn. This was a registered inn and had a stable to provide Imperial couriers with fresh horses. It was about a days journey to the south-west of the town, on the major road that ran through Xinle, down to Zhending and ultimately all the way to the Eastern Capital itself, Bianliang. The inn was

34

the usual agglomeration of single-story buildings and courtyards, nestling amid patchy woodland. I suppose I must have swaggered into the inn. Heads turned as I entered. Peng Shou, the innkeeper, was nowhere to be seen, but there was a young girl who I presumed to be his daughter. I knew Peng by sight, as he and my father would occasionally see each other in the town and trade insults over some longstanding dispute from their childhood. His daughter I had not seen before. I couldnt describe her as pretty, but her large eyes appealed to me. How can I help you, sir? she asked. Im here on yamen business, I announced. I need to examine your register. She looked a little doubtful for a moment, then went behind the desk and fetched the inns guest register. I must admit I was slightly disappointed. I had been hoping that Peng himself would have been present, and refuse to let me see it. But I knew I had the authority to force him and when he finally showed me the register he would have lost face, which I was sure would have pleased my father. I quickly turned the pages to the day after the murder. To my dismay, the only name in the register belonged to Humpback Cao. He was an itinerant knife merchant, well known to my family, and despite his ready access to sharp blades I couldnt picture him as the murderer. Id never met a gentler fellow. Was anyone else here on this day? I demanded of Pengs daughter. She peered at the register. Im sorry, I wasnt here then. Youd have to ask my uncle about that. not his daughter, then, but his niece. Well, could you go and tell your uncle that a prefectural investigator wishes to question him? Im sorry, but he is in town at the moment. He wont be back until evening. I toyed with the idea of passing the afternoon in the inn, but Pengs niece, 35

while possessed of diverting eyes, wasnt quite diverting enough to justify a whole afternoon, especially given the bad blood between our families. So I thanked her and went out to get my horse. Out in the courtyard I heard running steps behind me, but didnt think anything of it. I half turned to see who it was, but caught only a vague shape as it crashed into me. I fell to the packed earth, the breath knocked out of me, and my assailant started pounding me in the face. I suppose I was lucky; moments later I was out cold.

36


DrEAM

A peal of thunder. He looks up from his desk. Down into the courtyard swoops a beast borne on wings of flesh. It shakes its horned head, casting about as if searching for prey. Humourless bestial features curl into a sneer as its eyes alight on him, and the creature advances. He instinctively shuffles away from it, tipping over the desk. His chair unbalances and he crashes backwards. A pigs face, surmounted by a shock of fiery red hair, looms above him. Claws reach for his throat, and inhuman strength pulls him up, towards a curved blade, an executioners sword. His groping hands grip the smooth surface of his inkstone. He jerks awake. The solidity of the kang brick bed which he grips beneath him offers reassurance. From another part of the compound a womans scream rends the air, but he is prepared. His wife is giving birth to his third child, and it will be a son, he knows. But the dream has shown what his wife is giving birth to. next morning, his household is abuzz with activity. Friends and relatives come to visit, bringing fragrant rice, vinegar, and coal for the proud mother. They are so busy congratulating her on yet another son, and expressing surprise at the babys dark complexion and strange white birthmark, that they fail to notice the fathers air of detachment, and the shudder that seems to run through him whenever he looks at the new-born. More friends and relatives arrive from further afield for the gift-givings on the seventh, fourteenth, and twenty-first days after the birth. And soon it is time for the ceremony of the bath. The child betrays no anxiety as he is lowered into the silver bowl of water, scented with costly oils. The father joins his brother in stirring the water with a golden pin, though he raises 37

a furore by refusing to allow jujubes to be thrown into the water and consumed by the maids and younger female relatives. The rituals continue, and by the time of the celebration on the hundredth day all have noticed the fathers strange lack of interest, and his reluctance to approach the babe. The fortune teller arrives to determine the future course of the childs life. Whichever of the objects arrayed around him the child grasps first show what he will become. The father is unsurprised when a knife is chosen; he already knows his son will be a killer, and has decided that he must do something about it. He hardly listens to the fortune tellers well-rehearsed flattery. Your son will be a great statesman a paladin of justice. He will bring great honour to the family Bao!

38

4
From the private journal of Bao Xing I had never been this badly hurt. I suppose I had lived quite a sheltered life. Id never even been in a fight before, unless you counted roughhousing games played with childhood friends. But when I came round and looked up into Pengs nieces anxious face, there was a moment before I became fully aware of the pain when I seemed to be looking out at the world anew. Then the pain swept in on me, and I blacked out again. Whoever it was I had met in the courtyard of the Five Pines Inn, they had put a lot of effort into what they did. I was concussed and bruised all over, and as I discovered over the next few days, my left arm was broken, and so were several ribs. There was probably worse, too, inside, but I didnt really want to hear about that. The second time I came round, Peng Shou was there. He looked just as worried as his niece. Weve sent for a doctor. We didnt think it was a good idea to move you. At the time, I remember thinking how amazing it was that he should be so concerned about an enemy of his family. Later, of course, I managed to rationalize it. Having a yamen official assaulted at his inn wasnt going to reflect well on him at all, and the bad blood between our families would only serve to heap suspicion on him. As the doctor examined me, checking my pulses, poking and prodding, I tried to distract myself from the agony by wondering what it was that had come between Peng and my father, all those years ago. Did it really matter now, whatever it was? And was I unfilial to think such things? Doctor Zhu confirmed what Peng had suspected. Even in a palanquin, he said, I shouldnt even consider returning home for several days. You are in a very dangerous state, he said. With your body so badly weakened, your 39

whole system of meridians has been interrupted, and thus the flow of qi is turbulent. An imbalance may lead to permanent injury. It will be necessary for me to watch carefully for signs of such imbalance so that the necessary diet and other measures can be taken to assist your recovery. Breathing, in particular, is the key: the absence of breath is the sole cause of death. If you experience any difficulty breathing you must report it at once. Id heard language like this before, but it had always felt like the words of a ritual like a description of the functionaries of the Court of Heaven. It was something that was no doubt true, and sounded very impressive, but had no connection with the earthly realm of flesh and blood. now I was all too painfully aware of my place in the realm of flesh and blood, the words sounded more like the sentence passed by a magistrate. I certainly found breathing painful, though the doctors pronouncement had so frightened me that I refused to admit that it counted as difficulty, and so omitted to report it. I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness, thinking strange thoughts, and having strange dreams. I remembered an aphorism that my father was fond of lecturing me with: The first half of a life is spent learning how to live; the second half is spent learning how to die. I remember saying to myself: Well, Im halfway through my life now. I had a vision of Geng Xius headless corpse. It was horribly realistic, with the severed stump exactly as I had seen it, except that Geng Xiu was alive. Worse, he was sitting at my desk in the yamen scribbling away at the household register. I woke to find my father looking down at me. My heart was thumping like the hoofs of the horse which had carried me to Anxi. My father! I could only guess what had transpired between him and Peng, though I saw no sign of it. You fool! he greeted me. Is there nothing but dumpling dough between your ears? Though he had never attained office of any kind, my father was a Confucian of the old school, and he took his responsibilities as a father very 40

seriously indeed. When I was ten, he had terrified me by warning against a life of dissipation (I didnt actually understand what dissipation was at the time); Dont forget, he assured me, that as your father I could kill you and my sentence would merely be exile. I would gladly suffer that to rid our family of the shame of a dissipated youth. And now here he was in the house of his enemy, shamed by a foolish son who had forgotten to think. Who knows who had attacked me? I certainly didnt. The faces of the people in the inn were no more than a blur of memory. I hadnt bothered to look closely. It could have been someone who hated me for collecting their taxes, or someone who hated me for just being a yamen man. The whole thing could have been set up by Hu Wei, or it could have been done by an accomplice of the murderer assuming the two werent the same. My father leaned closer. You make sure you thank Mister Peng properly. Hes looked after you better than you deserve, and has said you can stay here while you recover. I was shocked. I had never heard my father use the word Mister with Pengs name before. And yet he had done so while talking to me quietly, in confidence. He stalked off into a different room. I could hear some sort of conversation going on between my father and Peng Shou, but however much I strained my ears, I couldnt catch any of it. Pengs niece, whose name turned out to be Yanyu Swallows Wing was adept at avoiding my discreet inquiries about the state of affairs between my father and her uncle. But she did tell me about what had happened the day I was attacked. There were a number of inn patrons from out of town, she said. They were rough men, perhaps seasonal labourers, perhaps even outlaws, talking in southern accents. When I had left the inn one of them, whom she remembered as being short, with no more than a greasy topknot cloth by way of headgear, had followed me out. The others had left shortly after. My fathers harsh words had made me realize that I couldnt be sure that my beating had anything to do with the case. The obvious suspect was Hu Wei, of course, but if he was behind it he had disguised his hand well. For it 41

transpired that Mister Peng had indeed seen a man with a caged bird on the day after the murder: a merchant in company with other merchants, travelling along the great road that leads to Bianliang. He said that he recognized the travellers, that they had stopped at his inn before, but that he couldnt remember any names. Of course, it could have all been a conspiracy between Hu and Peng but my head hurt too much to consider such a possibility. I spent a lot of time composing a letter to Magistrate Du, explaining my situation. To try to make it look as if I had made some progress, I mentioned that a merchant had been seen with a songbird answering the description of Birdie Gengs, and that he was supposedly headed for the Eastern Capital. I wasnt sure whether the magistrate would act on this, but Magistrate Du was thorough, so it seemed best to give him at least a straw to clutch at. Some investigator I was shaping up as. now that I thought about it, I had indeed been foolish in my behaviour. I was so full of my position that all caution had deserted me, and I had forgotten the simmering resentment of officials that is found throughout the land, most especially among the indigent or ill-educated. My father was right: there was nothing between my ears but dough. *** Lying around in the back room of the Five Pines Inn gave me plenty of time for thought. Initially I couldnt bring myself to speculate about the murder case, since the lack of opportunity to act on those speculations would only add to my frustration. Instead, I found myself thinking once again about Administrator Qian, and posing myself questions of politics and leadership. I know the classical answers, of course. But then, so do the officials charged with selecting personnel for the bureaucracy, and yet they had seen fit to allow Qian to rise to high office for some reason. Why was that, I wondered? Was it possible that Qian had been successful in the examinations? By no means all bureaucrats had passed the Metropolitan Examinations or even, come to that, the Provincial ones. Without the jinshi, however, there was 42

little hope of rising higher than Administrator. If Qian was a jinshi scholar, why was he a bad administrator? Inspector Chun insisted that the fragrance of the classics guaranteed right conduct. But then Inspector Chun himself was certainly not a jinshi, even if he had passed the Prefectural or Provincial levels. Indeed, during our conversations I had formed the distinct impression that his knowledge of the classics was inferior to my own. He might have passed in a more practical subject, I supposed. This led me into a new area of speculation. Everyone knows that the literature degree is the key to advancement, the surest sign of an able student. It requires a wide-ranging knowledge of the classics as well as composition in all the approved styles. It is, in short, the sign of a man of culture. What, I found myself asking, of the student of one of the more practical subjects? When I was at school, Master Kuang, my teacher, once told us that he had heard it suggested that the bureaucracy should be filled with men whose degrees were in practical subjects, because the problems that beset the Empire were of a practical nature. I could tell at the time from the half-smile which played about his lips that he was testing us, and so I gave the answer he obviously wanted. now, when I thought about it without the pressure of his dark eyes peering down at me and his grey beard twitching, I wondered if there might not, after all, be something to be said for practical skills. It seemed to me that Magistrate Du had them, while Administrator Qian was lacking. There were other possibilities, I realized. Qian could have obtained his position through yin privilege. He could even have been directly appointed by Imperial Edict. If it was yin privilege, then his sponsor would share some responsibility for his performance. If it was Imperial Edict, then presumably the young Emperor was aware of some virtue of Qians that had escaped my attention. As I started to wonder which particular hole in the net Qian had crawled through, my attention was drawn to the net itself. I remembered an incident from my youth, when I used to enjoy swimming. I had once got talking with one of the river fishermen. In the course of our conversation, I pointed 43

out to him that the holes in his nets were too large, and that he could catch more fish if he made a tighter net. Who says I want to catch more? he told me, with a wink. A belly overfull today might mean a belly empty tomorrow, might it not? I didnt understand what he was saying, and he laughed, and explained patiently how fishermen had to let the small fish go, so that they would grow and make more fish. Of course, he winked a lot, and I knew all the other meanings and allusions for fish, so I was soon laughing so uproariously that I didnt pause to think about what he was telling me. It came back to me as I thought about officials. When it came to choosing them, the Empire wanted to foster those who would grow, and make the Empire grow with them. But at the same time, it didnt want those who were too big. It didnt want any repeat of the An Lushan rebellion that had laid low the mighty Tang. Put a tiger in charge of guarding your farm, and you wont have any livestock in the morning. So I started to see how it worked. I saw how men whose talent exceeded their loyalty were the greatest danger to the harmony of the Empire, and I realized that it was preferable to allow a few men like Qian, for all their failings, to wield power than to risk that power in the hands of those who might wield it in ways not sanctioned by the Son of Heaven. Perhaps there was even a sound political reason why the Han Emperor Lingdi had bestowed the official grade of Jinxian on his dog? From Qian I turned to myself. I had always thought of myself as having some small ability. Although I hadnt even taken the Provincial Examination I was confident I could pass if given the chance, and with a little effort might even be able to become a jinshi. Yet I had been trapped by labour service. As a tax-collecting village officer, and then as a yamen clerk, I had had little time to study and no opportunity to visit Anxi for the Examination. I had postponed my wedding to my betrothed, pleading that I be allowed to secure my future. But while labour service had given me the chance to live in town, and see the machinery of administration at first hand, I started to understand how it might also be depriving me of the chance to rise higher. Everyone knows that the yamen clerks are despised. People say that they 44

are despised for their corruption, but I think I know better. People despise what they fear. And the truth is, people fear the clerks. Certainly they fear the magistrate, yet it is the clerks with whom they deal, the clerks who assess their land, and the clerks who bring them to the attention of the magistrate. It is the clerks who wield the power, who have the practical skills that the Empire needs. And it is for this reason that the clerks must be despised, and kept firmly at the bottom of the apparatus of government, separate from the graded officials. And thus anyone who was a clerk was tainted. Precisely because my detailed knowledge of the workings of the household register would be a useful asset to me if I were to become a magistrate, it would be a source of suspicion, and something which would be counted against me by the Office of Personnel Selection in the capital. As I lay on that kang in a spare room of Pengs, barely able to move, the image of the bird-fanciers caged birds in the Willow Park came back to me. It was their beautiful plumage, and their fighting talent, which kept them in those cages. Perhaps I, too, was now a bird in a cage: trapped as a clerk for being too conscientious. I had thought that hard work and honesty would bring me good fortune. now I realized that they would keep me a clerk; I might be promoted for not being corrupt, and praised for my ability, but I would still be a clerk, one of the despised. I hadnt even chosen this career, but been forced into it by labour service! Birdie Gengs huamei had been trapped in a cage. Was it free now, I wondered? Had its masters horrible death been nothing more than a bid for freedom, an escape from servitude for a spirit of evil? *** I was attacked the day before the Double Seven festival started; by the time I was fit to be moved, it was time for the Hungry Ghosts to be fed. The doctor seemed to have been right about my meridians: at any rate I suffered from disorientation for quite a while, and the constant pain taxed all my reserves of patience. My arm had been tightly bound to wooden splints, and 45

when it itched, I almost wanted to grab a cleaver from the Inns kitchens and hack it off. When it came time to get in a palanquin for home, I was at least able to move my hand a little, for all the comfort that gave me. Even though the pain was now subsiding, and the dizzy spells seemed to be over, I felt little sensation of relief from discomfort. The early cicadas had started up, the ones we called the wa-wa-weekers, and for once I found their constant chirping intensely irritating. The journey home in the palanquin was interminable. I had been foolish enough to insist on kowtowing my gratitude to Peng, and that had reawakened much of the pain in my arms and ribs. And since I was being taken to my family home, rather than my cosy room in Xinle, I knew that I had a regimen of censure and admonishment to look forward to. I would receive little sympathy from my fathers wife, as she was not my mother. It proved to be worse than I had expected. The festival of the hungry ghosts was always a little tense in our family. Any of the festivals on which we visited the family graves brought back unpleasant memories, and reminded us of just how few we now were. Our family had been ravaged, by disease and by accident. When I was young, my uncle was the head of the family, but hed been claimed, and was soon followed by most of his family. Id lost a brother and two sisters to the same illness. Other cousins met unfortunate fates. At the festival of the hungry ghosts we had plenty of graves to sweep; graves of those we had known and loved. But the grave which hurt the most didnt exist: it was that of my mother. My mother had died when I was twelve years old: drowned in the Sand river. Whenever I came to sweep the graves and leave offerings, I was reminded of my greatest source of pain. My mother had been cremated. I disagreed with it then, and through all my studies Id found nothing to temper my disagreement, and plenty to support it. no good Confucian should tolerate such a thing. My father argued that cremation was the Buddhist custom, and that as my mother was a devout Buddhist, this way was better for her. I doubted this argument would cut much ice with my teacher at the Xinle yamen academy. A clan which had once boasted several households was now reduced to 46

the six of us (if you included my stepmother). It made festivals a lot of work. We put a little something on an altar outside the house for the hungry ghosts, a custom my mother had initiated, since there were no local Buddhist priests to do it in our village. now we were only too painfully aware that the way our family was going, we could all end up as hungry ghosts ourselves. Then off we went to the plot of land on the hill behind our house where we buried our dead. We had the brooms to sweep the graves, and the food carefully packed. Usually it was my job to carry the charcoal brazier, but I wasnt up to it, so I picked up what I could and left the brazier for my younger brother, Xuan. We were dressed in our long, formal robes, of course, which made it a warm journey. When we got there, we did the sweeping first. Although I couldnt use my left arm I insisted on clumsily clutching a broom and joining in, knowing that if I didnt Id hear plenty about it later. Then we set everything up in their proper places, and my stepmother took over to warm the offerings. Once the food and drink was in place, we all greeted the spirits with a bow, and my father stepped up and invoked them with the wine. Then we made the offerings, in time-honoured order, and urged the spirits to partake. My father was laconic, and I could see he was not in a good temper. The rest of us, except perhaps my stepmother, were all keeping our eyes on him, acting carefully, trying to anticipate any annoyances we might present to him. There was a certain subtle jockeying about this, in which I suffered an especial handicap, not only physical, but in the stock of displeasure with which I was already viewed. I really dont like the Hungry Ghosts festival. The story they tell about it always got me like an itch I couldnt scratch. Its the one about Mulian, the rich merchant who tells his mother to offer hospitality to any stray monks that come calling. Despite his worldly success, he gives it all up to become the Buddhas star disciple. In what I always thought was a rather unfair turn of events, he becomes a lohan, with magical powers to boot. And not content with whizzing around spreading peace and incense, he wonders what has happened to his parents. A quick trip to heaven confirms that his fathers well looked-after. But he cant find his mother. Well, not until he delves 47

down into the hell of the hungry ghosts. He finds that rather than following his advice, his mother chose instead to keep her rice for herself and her own family, rather than lavishing it on whatever vagrants showed up. Oh, and she got a taste for meat. And for this she is condemned to eternal hunger, with a fat belly and a thin neck. Mulian swings into action, as they always do in the stories, fighting demons left, right and centre. In the end, he persuades the Buddha to intervene. The mother comes back as a pet dog, so thats all right. And the Buddha sets up the Hungry Ghost festival as a day when ordinary people can do something about the Hungry Ghosts by giving their money to monks to say a lot of prayers. Dont misunderstand: Ive got nothing against the grave-sweeping and respect to the ancestors part of the festival. Its just that I find the story a little too offputting. And an old monk I used to know once told me that Mulian was actually murdered shortly before the Buddha himself died. Thats a part of the story they dont tell. I was running the old story through my mind on the way back from the graves. Everything about it seemed calculated to rub me up the wrong way. And true to form, no sooner had we got home than my father started railing at me for my disrespect to the ancestors, with little jibes provided by my stepmother. *** That was the pattern for the next tenday or so. Every day I received a lecture from my father or step-mother on the subject of my lack of filial piety. I was told repeatedly of the shame that I had brought to the family by becoming one of the grasping clerks of the yamen, as if I had had any choice in the matter! I was reminded of my betrothal to Miss Deng whom I had never met and warned of the consequences if the Deng family took such a dim view of my behaviour as to call off the wedding. My brother Xuan, who was in the enviable position of being able to study every day, even though what he was actually studying was sericulture, was held up to me as a glowing 48

example. The only surprise in all this was that no mention was made of Peng, which I would have expected. I steeled myself, remembering that Of the ten thousand books teachings, filial piety is the most important. This helped me with my father, but it didnt go far with his wife, whose complaints seemed to be increasingly unconnected with reality. Partly to avoid as much of this chastisement as possible, and partly because I thought it might help with the case, I spent as much time as I could with Tian, who was the only one to show me any sympathy. Tian had been working on our holding for as long as I could remember, and though Id never seen his impassive features register any emotion, I knew he was fiercely loyal to our family. In some ways, whatever my father said, as long as Tian didnt blame me I knew that I hadnt really done anything wrong. Since I had been raised to be a scholar, not a farmer, I had never learned very much about the business of silk, which represented most of my familys livelihood. This was my opportunity to put that omission right. I also wondered whether Tian knew anything about Geng and his weaving business. I knew that we didnt supply silk thread directly to Geng, but Tian confirmed my suspicion that we did sometimes supply some of the silk weaving households that were his clients. The silk business was a strange interaction of town and country. The market for silk was almost entirely urban. Farmers had worn hemp from time immemorial, and continued to do so. It was only in the cities, and especially among the high officials, that silk was the cloth you simply had to wear. And as the cities had grown since the dying years of the Tang dynasty, the demand for silk had grown. Cheap silk from the south now represented the majority of the Empires production, but Tian assured me that our local Hebei product was still the best to be found. The southern lands may be able to churn out wadding, pongee and other coarse grades, but for brocade, figured damask and fine silk in general, there is still no beating Hebei. Take a look at this, Tian held up a small bolt. no face side; no reverse side, consistent warp and weft. Thats the sure sign of fine Hebei silk. 49

Why is our silk so good? I asked, acutely aware that the silk I was wearing was Jiangnan-made, with a distinctive face side. The southerners put all their effort into coddling the silk worms, Tian explained. Theyre right that you have to look after your worms, but what theyve missed is that preparation starts before the worms: it lies in the mulberry leaves. You cant have too many mulberry trees, and they have to be of the finest quality. But the roots are weak, and must be tended carefully. After you plant a tree you wont be able to pluck its leaves for three years, and even after ten it will still be unsteady and need tending and support. I had always taken for granted the number of mulberry trees on our holding, and the effort that went in to caring for them, but now I knew why. Tian also pointed out to me that in some years better profit could be made simply from selling the mulberry leaves than from extracting silk. Many farmers, especially the southerners, concentrate so much on their worms that they forget to make ample provision of mulberry leaves. In harsh years, the price of the leaves is so high that we will get twice the profit we would get if we kept them for our own use. In such years, those who buy from us often dont cover their costs. Thats the price you pay for not being prepared. I could see that Tians principle could be applied in areas other than sericulture. Dont get too absorbed in the small specific details, he seemed to be saying, and lose sight of the big picture. I was grateful to Tian. I could see that he enjoyed sharing with me the details of the business, and his expertise. He was a practical man, as dedicated to the orderly running of our holding as Magistrate Du was to the governance of the district. But unlike Magistrate Du, his lack of scholarship and his flair for business marked him immediately as a member of the lower classes, barred from office and looked down on by we scholars. Spurned by my parents; accepted only by a social inferior although the injuries from my beating were starting to heal, my time at the family home was marked by other wounds, which would take longer to heal. And once I left, I knew I had more beatings to look forward to from the magistrate.

50


DEATH

It is a beautiful summers day. Insects buzz, birds flit and the wind dances gently through the branches of the trees. A scholar walks slowly along a path. His relaxed gait, and the way he turns to look, listen, sniff, and appreciate, show that he is walking for pleasure. His sackcloth robe shows that he is in mourning, but evidently he is a man of means. The fan with which he cools himself is decorated with a poem, elegantly brushed. When he sees someone coming along the path towards him he stops, fanning himself more vigorously. With recognition comes surprise. Polite greetings are exchanged, and the newcomer gestures up the hill, towards a pavilion which commands a view of the woods. After a brief hesitation, the two stroll off together, chatting casually. In the pavilion a bottle is produced, and two cups. After some hesitation by the scholar, the two drink each others health repeatedly. next, brushes, and inkstone. Poems are written, playing off each other, the game of the literati. The brush slurs. The scholar slumps, groping vaguely around. His companion calmly downs another cup of wine, and waits. When the snoring has become regular, out comes a sharp knife, an experts knife. The job isnt as easy as expected, but a little perseverance pays off. The work is done. Blood soaks everything. The killer looks down at the scholars headless body and sighs with pleasure. Who could ask for a more beautiful death?

51

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From the private journal of Bao Xing I was dreading meeting Magistrate Du. To spare myself embarrassment, and the necessity for an investigation, I had asked Peng to report that my injuries resulted from a bad fall from my horse. Peng was happy to do this, of course, as his inns status as an official courier stop would have led to all kinds of paperwork in the event of an investigation. The problem was that well over a month had gone by since the start of the Geng Xiu murder investigation. I had tried to keep abreast of developments by asking that anyone in the village who visited Xinle make sure they reported to me any rumours or announcements. A cheerful shout of They found the head! was how I heard the news. I hobbled out into the courtyard to see the grinning face of Smiler Fan. As a child Id often played with him, a chunky farmers son whod never been known to frown. He was also the best at fishing for miles around. Tell me, tell me, I asked, eager for details. I just did, replied Smiler. They found the head! Yes, but where, how, who found it? I asked with exasperation. Smiler obviously didnt think this important. Oh, some labourers found it in the reeds of the Sand river, was all he could offer me. I wanted to know so much more. I dismissed Smiler brusquely and without the thanks he was due. The Sand river was, at its closest to the Willow Park, several li distant. I called one of our labourers, and sent him off to find out who would be going into Xinle next, so that I could give them a list of questions to be answered. He came back an hour later to tell me that no-one had any plans to visit town for several days. I cursed and ground my teeth. 52

That evening was spent in argument with my father and stepmother. Argument over nothing. Argument that only reflected my own frustration at being trapped at home, my fathers frustration at my failure as a scholar, and my stepmothers frustration at well, as far as I could tell, her frustration at the very fact of my existence. After a sleepless night, I was roused by my father. Youre wanted at the yamen, was all he said. Shuffling groggily outside, I saw a palanquin waiting for me in the courtyard. It was the magistrates own. My heart leapt. The magistrate must have decided that I was required to deal with this new development. Then I remembered the deadline. The first 33 days had already passed, so a beating awaited me in Xinle. But even that thought didnt stop me hurrying to leave, without breakfast, and with only the most perfunctory of farewells to my parents. A long, bumpy palanquin journey brought me once more within the walls of Xinle, and I managed to hobble before Magistrate Du and kowtow without giving any outward sign of the pain it cost me. The insignificant Bao at your service, Your Honour. I would be happy to investigate the circumstances of the recovered head. recovered head? Thats all been handled. I didnt send my palanquin to bring you here for something as trivial as that. no, youre here because of the latest murder. I was speechless. It is outrageous that they didnt see fit to inform me, Magistrate Du fumed. That I should have to hear about it from hearsay and gossip beggars belief. I couldnt believe this. When a murder is discovered, you inform the local Elder straight away, and he informs the magistrate. Any delay, and you start looking like the prime suspect yourself. But I soon discovered why Magistrate Du had not been informed: the murder in question had not been committed in his jurisdiction. Strictly speaking, therefore, he neednt have concerned himself with it. Its the same murderer! he barked. Coroner Weng confirmed it! 53

Another headless body had been discovered. Once again, the victim was wealthy. In fact, he was one of the wealthiest individuals in Anxi district. Zhou Baixian was an Imperial historian. He had gone missing after going out for his regular morning walk. For some reason, it took three days to find him. His remains were finally discovered in a pavilion on his extensive estate. The prefecture had already started to investigate, but hadnt informed Magistrate Du. Im sending you to Anxi, he told me. I want you to look for anything that will help us bring this villain to justice, and let the Gengs bury their son. I thought I knew what he really wanted. If we could nab the perpetrator, it would be one in the eye for Administrator Qian and his shambles of an administration. I wasnt sure I was really fit enough for a trip to Anxi, over a hundred li distant, but I didnt argue. Although he gave me a tongue-lashing, Magistrate Du let me off my beating, excusing me on the grounds that I was too badly hurt already. And surely simply by sending me he was showing some faith in my abilities? Or maybe setting me up as a scapegoat for a lack of results, a little voice nagged. Still, he said Id get expenses to cover my time in Anxi. He also banned me from using the yamens horses. Since you seem to have trouble staying on a horse, you can travel in a cart instead, he half-snarled. Travel in a cart like a farmer, and be grateful for it. I kowtowed my thanks, wincing a little this time. A month ago I would have been ashamed to ride in a cart. But after the lesson Id learned about the consequences of arrogance, I didnt mind keeping a lower profile. And I wasnt capable of riding, anyway. Your Honour, there was one more thing I said, rather hesitantly. Out with it then! I mentioned in my letter about the merchant with the songbird Yes, yes, he replied. I sent a message to the metropolitan authorities, including a description of the bird. Cant hurt, he said pulling out a sheet of paper, and dismissing me with a casual wave of his hand. I made my way out of his office. Before I left the yamen, however, I had some business of my own. The 54

scribes would have written down the details of the discovery of Birdie Gengs head. Magistrate Du may have thought it unimportant, but I needed to know. The trick was in convincing the scribes to let me look at the court record. The clerks in a yamen are organised in six offices, and of course the offices all loathe each other. Ive heard that in some yamen, where former convicts are employed as clerks, this animosity can actually lead to fisticuffs. It wasnt that bad in ours, but wilful obstruction was all I could expect if I asked a favour of someone in another section. Which meant, of course, that I couldnt afford to ask a favour. There are only two ways to get a yamen clerk to do something. One is to pay him; the other is to make sure he knows that hell be punished if he doesnt do it. I didnt have the sort of money demanded by the average scribe and one useful benefit of my position was an intimate acquaintance with the going rate so all I could do was use the fact that I was coming out of the magistrates office, and that I was known to be assisting the magistrate with this case. Straight to the records store I went. As casually as I could manage: His Honour wants to check something about the court session when the head was found. The rheumy eyes of Heng Jie eyed my splinted arm suspiciously. But then, he was suspicious of everyone and everything. Wordlessly, he searched out the sheets and passed them to me. Thanks, I grinned, and headed back towards the magistrates office. I needed a quiet cubbyhole to scan the record before someone spotted me. Id already got it worked out. We had no one in the cells at the moment, so the jailer ought to be off about other business. So it proved, as I ducked down the passage that led to the cells. The jail stank, but I ignored that and ran my eyes over the sheets. Luckily, the already abbreviated recording style combined with Dus famous brevity to keep it short. The head was the first item in the session. Geng Yu and two labourers Cui presented in court Head deceased Geng Xiu found by Cuis fishing Sand River Zhenhe County Head bloated unrecognisable 55

Magistrate asked Geng Yu identify Geng Yu identified Magistrate asked Cuis precise location Answer north bank between Yin village and Qiu footbridge Geng confirmed saw head in situ Magistrate turned over head Geng gave permission encoffining Issued scrip payment Cuis 20 strings discounted standard rate Dismissed That was it. I skimmed through the other items, and the notes on the session, but there was nothing there of any interest. I took the sheet back to Heng. That was quick, he observed. Magistrate Du is a fast reader. So he is, said Heng. So he is. rather than filing them, Heng put the sheets on the desk in front of him, and then looked up at me, as if daring me to question him. But I knew better. Thanks, then, I observed with a smile, and hurried off, as fast as my aching chest could bear. So the head had been found. Well, there would be a lot of people happy about that. Geng Yu would be able to reunite it with the body, and seal the coffin. Those who frequented the Willow Park would no longer have to avoid the area in which a rapidly putrefying corpse awaited its head. And Magistrate Du would be happy that there had been some progress. I should be happy too. This had probably helped decide the magistrate to excuse me my beating. But I wasnt happy. I wasnt happy at all. I went to my lodgings and made my preparations for the trip to Anxi. *** I dont recommend a trip on a cart when you have broken ribs and a splinted arm. Every bump on the road sends tendrils of pain licking through your chest. Whenever I could, I got off and walked, which still hurt, but didnt jar so much. On my last trip to Anxi I had travelled at the speed of a banditry 56

report, and got there in a matter of hours. The cart trip took much longer. Magistrate Du had arranged for me to accompany a shipment of official rice up to the prefectural capital. Id be travelling with a Supply Master and a functionary from Administrator Qians office. It was a good chance to make some contacts, but somehow it didnt work out that way. They werent ready to chat to me, beyond the basic civilities, and with the pain I didnt feel in a conversational mood myself. I tried to distract myself by running over what I knew. About the death of Historian Zhou I had little to go on as yet. But it did affect the way I thought about Birdie Gengs murder. The murder was unplanned. I had been sure of it. But now there was another one. Did that mean that I was wrong: that someone had known enough about Birdie Gengs movements on the fateful day to be able to kill him unseen? Or was this second murder also spontaneous? For some reason this possibility frightened the wits out of me, and brought back the spectre of that wandering warrior, waiting to decapitate the wealthy whenever the opportunity arose. The same instinct that had told me that the first murder was spontaneous now suggested to me that the second wasnt. Theres a saying: a man with a boil doesnt mind a bit of inflammation. In other words, if youve done something unpleasant once, its easier to do it a second time. So the murderer had killed Birdie Geng, and got a taste for it. If that was so, then Historian Zhou wasnt going to be the last of his victims. Magistrate Du must have realised that. Hed sent me to Anxi, at the risk of exceeding his authority, because he knew that the murderer had to be stopped, and Qian couldnt be trusted to do it. But could I? The only lead I had on Birdie Gengs murder was the merchant who had been seen at the Five Pines Inn. Peng had said he was bound for the Eastern Capital. But if he were the murderer he could just as easily have turned around and headed to Anxi. Hed have to dispose of the bird, though, no easy matter. And there were other aspects of the case that had been bothering me. Why had the murderer carried off the head, travelled all the way up to the edge of the Sand river to dispose of it, and then turned round and made 57

another long cross-country trip to the Five Pines Inn? When I considered the possibility of the head being carried by the current, it seemed especially perverse, since the Sand river flowed south-east from the spot the head was found, towards the town. If he wished to dispose of the head, it would have been far more sensible, and easier, to fling it in the river downriver from the town. Before the head had been found, and the second murder, I had started to feel that I could almost understand the murderers feelings and action; this fervent desire to hide the head, but in an inept manner, had me stumped. And how had the murderer managed to carry the head all the way up the Sand river, and then continued all the way to the Five Pines Inn with a songbird in a cage? It would have been difficult to make either of those journeys in daylight without being seen. Even if the killer avoided passing through the town, but stuck to the country roads, he would still have to pass through intensively cultivated areas, and the unfamiliar sight of a travelling merchant with a songbird would certainly have been reported, even in the absence of Geng and the magistrates generous rewards. There was no chance we could reach Anxi in a single day. We stopped at a courier inn for the night. The cart was secured, and we were fed a tolerable meal. By this time Id got used to eating without the use of my left arm, but I still had to put up with mockery from my travelling companions, especially from the Supply Master, like myself, on labour service. The functionary, like most of these so-called professionals, obviously saw himself as socially superior to us yokels. Leave him be, he pronounced expansively, after a sustained bout of ridicule from the Supply Master. Hes armless after all. Better that than headless, I replied darkly. The two seemed confused for a moment, then roared with laughter and once again set to at my expense. I ordered more wine to dull the pain, and by the time we headed to our shared room, I was staggering. *** So we came to Anxi, the Dingzhou prefectural seat. My last visit had been, 58

I had to admit, quite enjoyable. Id had the use of both of my arms then, of course. Still, it felt good to pass through the gate once more. The south gate road led right up to the prefectural offices, and after clambering down from the cart I felt so cheerful that I even smiled at my travelling companions and thanked them for their amusing company. I strode happily towards the offices entrance and then, at the last moment, remembered that I didnt have any business there. Since I was a temporary investigator my liaison was not Qian, but Chun Yong, the police inspector. His headquarters, naturally enough, were located near the south gate. Does criminal investigation really consist primarily of traipsing about, I wondered? But to be honest it was a relief not to have to meet the administrator or any more of his hopeless functionaries. And it gave me a chance to enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of the main thoroughfare of Anxi. There were eateries, of course, and shops selling snacks and takeaway food. There were also the towns most prestigious purveyors of tea, as well as porcelain and lacquerware emporia. I knew that the backstreets held more quotidian pleasures: butchers, bakers and the like. Id do my best to wander them in the days ahead of me. If I was to be denied the creature comforts of home, I might as well make the most of my new surroundings. I suddenly realised how hungry I was. There wasnt time to enter one of the enticing restaurants on the street so I contented myself by picking up a pickled pigs trotter from a specialist vendor, and munching on that as I ambled southward. I was still wiping the grease off my fingers when I arrived at Chun Yongs office. I was met by a soldier with a bent nose and an attitude. Local soldiers often seem to be drawn from that segment of society which enjoys physical violence. The Imperial army is a bit too dangerous, especially with the Xi Xia situation in the northwest, and in any case, you spend all your time away from home. So getting to swagger around your home district with a sword at your side and a bow on your back is a great attraction for many men. I could tell that my friend here with the once-broken nose and set of poorly maintained teeth was one who took the perks of his job seriously. What do you want? he bawled, with unnecessary volume. 59

Im a criminal investigator from Xinle District yamen, I answered, as affably as I could. Here to work with Inspector Chun. He laughed in my face. Try another one, you great plucked chicken. I saw you wandering down that street, gobbling a pigsfoot with your one good hand. You dont look like any sort of officer to me. I knew better than to argue with someone who clearly lived for such moments. I did have a docket from Magistrate Du identifying me as a temporary investigator, but I wasnt about to surrender it here. For one thing, I knew he would see the word temporary but not the word investigator. Like as not, my docket would disappear. I knew the pleasure such people take in obstruction. I was not only a minor functionary, but a minor functionary from a different district, and therefore fine sport. I hurried off before the man took it into his head to arrest me, and closed my ears to the volley of abuse hurled after me. Well, if I couldnt make contact with Inspector Chun, I could at least get some lodgings, and see if I couldnt find a bath. I went back to the same place I stayed on my last visit. They showed no sign of remembering me, but they were happy to put me up, and they directed me to the local bathhouse. It was just round the block, an unprepossessing frontage with a pot hung over the door. I seem to recall that the day off every tenday for officials was originally meant as bath day. Other than Magistrate Du, the scurvy lot at the Xinle yamen didnt follow ancient precedent in that respect. I think many of them deliberately avoided bathing to cultivate lice, which they could munch when they fancied a light snack. But I enjoyed a good wash, and preferred less mobile snacks. The bathhouse charged five cash, which I thought was a bit steep, but at least they provided a little fellow to sluice me down, since my out-of-action left arm would make this difficult. He was a Qidan, as it turned out, from the tribes on the northern borders. I say tribes, but of course now they were the Kingdom of Liao, a client kingdom of our own Great Song, and the recipients of considerable largesse from our benevolent Emperor. So it was 60

nice to have the compliment returned in part. His Chinese was tolerable, and he even went off to fetch me a cup of kumiss when I said I was thirsty. I managed to manoeuvre myself into a comfortable position in the tub, and relaxed, taking occasional sips from my fermented mares milk. For the last month or so, I decided, Id been doing nothing but moaning and complaining. So what if Id taken a bit of a beating? I still had my head attached to my shoulders. And even better, here I was enjoying a nice bath in the prefectural capital, engaged on business considerably more interesting than land registration. My water was stone cold long before I left the bathhouse, but that didnt bother me. I got back to my inn, ordered a simple dinner, and took a brief stroll before catching an early night. I had the best nights rest Id had in ages.

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COnvErSATIOn

I had a servant from Liao once, observed Poet Shi, idly. Funny fellow. Marvellous rider, though. Born in the saddle he was. never seen anyone like him before or since. If I ever had to send a message to someone quickly, he was my man. I really missed him. Bao remained silent, watching the Poets face carefully for signs that he should continue his story. He had been giving an abbreviated version of the story, but all the same, it had taken some time, and there was still much to get through. Shi didnt seem quite ready to let him carry on. nice work for those labourers, right? Wander down to the river, find a severed head, and pick up some money for it! Seems to me that Magistrate Du was tricked into being overgenerous by that father of Birdies. The Geng reward would have been more than ample for a couple of coolies; there was no need to get involved in some kind of competition with him. Im sure Magistrate Du had a good But Shi wasnt finished yet. He had started chuckling. Seventy strings of cash for a bit of head fishing! Thats the life! Give me that over the trials and tribulations of officialdom any day! Bao looked down, and nibbled on a chicken foot until the poets mirth subsided.

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From the private journal of Bao Xing I was up with the crack of dawn and out of the inn. Anxi was sluggish, but starting to move. There was already a steamed-bun seller loading up his handcart, so I bought a couple off him, then headed back towards the police office. Across the road was a convenient alley from which I could see the entrance. I knew Id probably have a long wait ahead of me, but I didnt mind. An hour later I was feeling peckish. I wished Id got a few more steamed buns. Then my patience was rewarded by the sight of Chun Yong striding along the street. I rushed out to intercept him, bowing politely. But my snaggle-toothed nemesis of the day before had seen me. He came out of the office brandishing a stick and interposed himself between me and the inspector, yelling back over his shoulder. This un tried to get into the office yesterday, sir! very good, Gu, very good, said Inspector Chun. You did the right thing, but I dont require your protection now. Gu narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down. Shall I be seeing im off, then, sir? no, as it happens Ill have a word with him myself. Chun Yong gestured along the road and so, circling warily around Gu, I fell in beside him and we strolled off. Im afraid we dont allow anyone into the office any more, he explained as we walked. We were having such a lot of trouble with clerks from the prefectural offices coming in and interfering with cases: threatening witnesses, stealing documents and so forth. There were a couple of really serious ones which took some sorting out. I was lucky that the new prefectural judge he shares your name by the way arrived when he did. He managed to deal 63

with the problems, and quietly advised me that I should simply allow only my own people into the office. Hardly had any trouble since. A fine, well-educated gentleman that new judge is. A credit to the service. By the way, what happened to your arm? An injury sustained in the course of an arrest, I trust? Im afraid not. Poor horsemanship while making enquiries. never mind. now, lets get a teahouse open and you can tell me what brings you to Anxi. I rather doubted that any teahouses would be open this early in the morning, but the inspector proved me wrong by hammering on a door and rousing a bleary-eyed woman to serve us. I felt a bit guilty at participating in what seemed to me something of an abuse of rank, but I needed all the information the inspector could give me. I was sent by Magistrate Du to learn about the murder of Historian Zhou, I began. A great tragedy, truly a great tragedy, mused Chun. His family were pillars of the local community: among our very finest. But it has taken you a while to get here. We received no official notification of the murder, I observed, trying to keep the acid out of my voice. Oh dear, how remiss of the prefecture. I confess, I did consider sending a message, but its not really protocol, is it? Still, heres the tea; let me fill you in on the background. The Zhou family have a distinguished history as scholars and officials, which they can trace back to the early days of the Tang Dynasty. They have a large estate in the countryside to the west of town, with quite extensive tenant-farmed lands. Until last year, the head of the family was Zhou Yuanshou, who had held the titular office of Commissioner of Waterways at the time of his retirement. His son, Zhou Baixian, was a staff author in the Institute of History of the Imperial Chongwen Library, and lived in the Eastern Capital. But upon the death of his father, he returned to the estate here for the threeyear mourning period. Were there any other sons? I asked. 64

I dont see that its relevant, but as it happens there werent. There were three daughters, all of whom enjoyed prestigious marriages. And Zhou Baixian himself had a son as well as two daughters. So the grandson inherits? Chun Yong, clearly uncomfortable with my interruptions, was fidgeting in his chair. After a sip of tea he continued. Zhou Baixians son is only seven years old and in any case, like all of the Zhou family he is of impeccable character and without question beyond suspicion in this case. Please excuse me I wasnt suggesting otherwise. But I just wondered who stood to benefit. I take it that the sons mother is possessed of morals as unimpeachable as her husbands? Precisely. now let us return to the pertinent facts of the case. Historian Zhou observed his mourning duties and responsibilities as a filial son, practising the rites, and maintaining his household with dignified restraint. Although I understand that while in the capital he was fond of entertainment of the most refined sort, of course he seldom came into town, and never so much as entered a restaurant. now, he was in the habit of taking a morning stroll. Because the Zhou estate was quite extensive, he could wander off on his own without ever treading on someone elses land. As well as fields, there is some rather attractive woodland, and its possible to achieve quite agreeable solitary contemplation. The last time Historian Zhou was seen was when he left on one of these walks; on the morning of the Double Seven festival. I assume there wasnt going to be a banquet in the evening. Absolutely not. I think it possible the children would be allowed to wear new clothes to celebrate the Weaver Girl on this one day, but more than that Historian Zhou would not allow. As I say, he was an extremely filial and upright man. That he should fall victim to one of the Ten Abominable Crimes! We must harness our indignation in the cause of apprehending the perpetrator of the atrocity! I said earnestly. You have not spoken a truer word! said Chun Yong, forcefully. Anyway, where was I? 65

You were about to tell me who the last person was to see the Historian alive, I prompted, hoping that my adoption of the Inspectors own tone might soften him to the impertinence of my questions. I had judged wrong, however. He became flustered again. I realised he didnt actually know the answer. Historian Zhou bade his wife and children farewell as he left, I am quite sure, he asserted. I didnt doubt the excellence of the victims character, but this seemed rather optimistic to me. But I let it pass. He didnt return at the usual time, but as he was the master of the household, no action was taken. In fact, nothing was done until the next morning. The next morning? I could hardly believe it. There were any number of possible reasons for his non-appearance. And what were they to do? Well, they could have gone out and looked for him! That was exactly what they did the next day, but as I mentioned, the estate was quite extensive, and no one knew exactly where the Historian had gone on his constitutional. He always went alone, after all. Anyway, the search began the next day but turned up nothing. Estate retainers were sent to local villages, and into town, to make enquiries. The next day workers were sent out to scour the woods. But the remains were only found the day after that. But I understood the body was found in a pavilion. Wasnt that one of the first places they might have looked? For some reason, no. They spent a lot of time combing the undergrowth and hunting among the trees. Perhaps the pavilion was just too obvious? So the body was headless: just like Birdie Gengs? Chun Yong paused. It was certainly headless. Indeed, the head has yet to be found. And as with Master Geng, there were no marks of violence on the body. Was anything else found in the pavilion? Ill give you the details in due course. Dont worry. The body was found by one of the estate workers who quickly reported it to the estate manager. As you can imagine, it took quite a while simply to call the search off. The 66

Historians mother and wife were informed, and the incident reported to the local Elder, who then informed the district magistrate. I dont know whether the magistrate had heard of the Geng murder, but in any case it took him two days to notify the prefecture of the case. By this time I knew what had happened, of course, thanks to my contacts and agents. But you know what the law is like about police going out into the country without prefectural authorisation, so I just had to wait. Actually I had never previously heard any reference to this, though I didnt doubt Chun Yong was correct. Our sheriff in Xinle had never shown any reluctance about riding out to local villages, throwing his weight around, and graciously accepting the gifts that were offered. Chun Yong continued. By the time I was notified and went out to examine the scene, the body had been removed. Most improper, of course. nevertheless the remains had been placed in a coffin and taken to the revealing Truth Temple. Luckily, Coroner Weng had been summoned quite early, and he had carefully examined the body before it had been moved. He confirmed that the wound exactly matched that inflicted on Master Geng, and he even went so far as to say that he thought the same weapon had been used. He said that it was an extremely sharp knife. not a sword? Absolutely not. Well, not unless it was some treasured blade of quite supernatural sharpness. The coroner said that a sword would have caused far more damage to the tissue of the neck. no, this was a very sharp knife. And once again, there was no sign of struggle no bruising on the body or damage to clothing. Which means that the victim was unable to resist. That struck me as odd the first time, I commented. But to have the same thing happen again seems highly significant. The victims must have been unconscious when they were killed. I had formed the same conclusion myself. I can think of two possibilities: that the victims were knocked unconscious, or that they were drugged. And to be honest, the former seems less likely. Its not as easy as you might think to reliably knock someone unconscious, and to do it twice, with no sign of struggle, would take incredible skill. 67

And the killer would have had to surprise the victim, come up from behind, presumably, I suggested. Probably. I think drugging is more likely. Which raises the problem of how the murderer managed to drug his victims. The Willow Park was rather a quiet place when Geng was murdered, but all the same, its not a place where you could reliably wait around for any length of time and expect not to be seen. If your sleeping draught is potent enough to put someone to sleep quickly, how on earth do you persuade them to drink it? So can we assume that the killer was known to his victims? It seems highly possible. In which case, its a very good thing youve come, because we have to try to find someone who might have known both Geng and Historian Zhou. I confess, it sounds unlikely. The one a mere merchant; the other a scholar of fine family. And you said that the Historian hadnt been living in the area very long anyway. What about neighbours? As it happens, the Zhou estate has no neighbours of quality. All the surrounding lands are managed estates, mainly, I believe, owned by Buddhist temples. So I have an idea of the best way to follow this thread further. I will have my men draw up a list of everyone with whom we believe Zhou had any dealings since coming to Dingzhou. If you would be so kind as to compile a similar list for Master Geng covering, lets say, the last year. Then by comparing the lists we can see whether there are any common features. It seemed to me an awfully long-winded way of going about things. Perhaps we could start by finding out whether Zhou had any interest in birds? I asked. One should always proceed methodically and thoroughly. In any case, I can tell you from what I have learned already that the Historian did not collect birds. His interests were far more literary. Have you uncovered any other leads? Of course I have been investigating the character of the local workers and farmers, and my men have been raiding the dwellings of those considered suspect. But we have found neither knife nor head. Ive also put the word out for any suspicious characters or neer-do-wells who might have 68

been seen in the locality. So far, Ive heard reports of a Taoist, whom no one seems to have ever heard of or seen before, but who was spotted by more than one person, at least once on Historian Zhous estate. So it might be worth asking if such a man was seen anywhere near the Willow Park. Birdie Gengs bird was stolen; was anything taken from Historian Zhou? As he was merely taking a stroll, he didnt carry anything of great value. But I understand that some silver was found intact in his sleeve, so I ruled out theft as the motive. As for what the motive actually was, this second murder changes things. Your question implies that you thought theft played a part in Master Gengs murder, and I would have agreed with you. But a thief doesnt kill again, and in exactly the same depraved manner. I remember that when we first saw Gengs body, the archers commented that it was a demon. Im not a superstitious man myself, but I dont think its unreasonable to characterise the perpetrator as a demon. Have you seriously considered the possibility of an explanation involving the spirit-world, then? Im inclined to be doubtful, but I have heard tell about such things. There was a case that came to court a little while back of a man who caused the deaths of three people by means of black magic. And everyone knows to be wary of foxes. But the spirit realms are ruled by law as is our own, and I dont see that it should affect the way we go about our job. The killer is monstrous, whether man or monster, and must be caught. He will be revealed by his own hideous nature, and thus we will find him. You can assist in that endeavour by returning to Xinle and compiling the list of Gengs associates, as well as listening for any news of the itinerant Taoist. Chun Yong drained his cup and rose. You can rest assured that I will continue to accord this case my closest attention. Indeed, I would be grateful if you would inform Magistrate Du of this fact. I clasped my hands in salute and bowed. Thank you for your time, Inspector. I saw the Inspector to the door of the teahouse and then watched as he walked back down the street. Of course, I had no intention of leaving Anxi. not yet, anyway. 69


DrEAM

Two days after the fortune tellers pronouncement, the father sets off early in the morning, carrying the new addition to his family. It isnt like him to take a constitutional, but the anxieties of members of his household are brushed aside. He is going to take the child to the top of Bright Screen Hill and show him the lay of the land, he says. He returns before sunset, his clothing torn and his face scratched by thorns. A tiger appeared when he was descending the slope, he says, and he had no option but to drop the child and flee for his life. The news is met with a mighty wailing, but no one raises a word against him. He is the head of the family and cannot be gainsaid. An hour later, Shan, the first son, returns to the house, cradling the baby in his arms. He had happened to follow his father, he explains, although he lost sight of him while ascending the tree-covered slopes. On the descent he came across the abandoned child and, fearful of tigers, picked up his little brother and carried him to safety. The father says nothing to his eldest son, simply staring at him with brows knotted, as some inner torment plays almost imperceptibly across his features. The years pass, and the youngest Bao escapes time and again from brushes with death. He studies hard, excelling even his elder brothers in his grasp of the classics. By the time of his capping, it is evident that he is destined for a glittering future among the ranks of the Empires scholars, though this affords his father no pleasure. He is given the personal name Zheng, meaning help.

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From the private journal of Bao Xing Weng Jingchu, Dingzhou prefectures most prestigious doctor, was not difficult to find. I knew he wouldnt be on the main avenue leading to the prefectural offices far too public but in one of the back roads of the best-off part of the town. He had a sign up over the gate to his house, and a little gong hanging there. I thought this rather pretentious, but gave it a crash all the same. With remarkable promptness, the gate opened, and out peered a young boy. His hair was cut quite short, but he had two tufts, one on either side of his head, tied with ribbons. It was a strange effect. He peered at me. Do you have an appointment? Im afraid not. Do I need one? I looked down at my splinted arm, hanging rather conspicuously in front of me. Could I have your name please? Bao Xing. Clerk of the Xinle yamen. Please wait out here. I will go and ask the doctor whether he will see you. So saying, the youth disappeared back inside, closing the gate carefully behind him. As I had suspected, Coroner Weng made the most of his qualifications in his private practice, affecting the manners of some grandee from the metropolis. Indeed, it had surprised me that a man of such eminence would deign to serve as a coroner at all. It was more usual for such duties to be performed by a coffin-maker or other tradesman accustomed to working with corpses. The pageboy was back quite quickly, and led me inside. The facing wall protecting the courtyard was a dazzling piece of ostentation, decorated with rampant feng birds, qilin, and dragons in bright colours and, if I wasnt 71

mistaken, gold thread. I suppose I must have betrayed my country origins by pausing to look at it. He took me across the first courtyard to the reception room where Coroner Weng awaited. The coroner rose to greet me, a nervous smile playing about his waxy features. The honorable Clerk Bao! What a pleasure to see you here! I recalled some of the language that had escaped his lips the last time I had seen him, in Xinle, and smiled back. It is a privilege to once more enter your enlightened presence, I offered. Weng detected no irony in my comment, but starting fussing about, examining my arm. This injury is not recent. Actually its a couple of tendays old. There were other injuries? I noticed a slight stiffness of your upper body. I had ribs broken. Show me. I pointed them out to him as best I could with my free hand. He stepped back, moistened his lips, and narrowed his eyes. Who assaulted you? I ... I fell off my horse. Was that before or after you were assaulted? How did you know someone attacked me? Firstly, it seemed the most likely supposition, given that you are a yamen clerk. Secondly, in a fall from a horse its not that easy to break ribs on the other side of your body from the arm that is broken. And thirdly, discolouration on both sides of your neck suggests that you were bruised there too, which would be difficult in a fall from a horse. I was impressed. This way of thinking seemed such a long way from the methods I had seen Inspector Chun employing. I hoped I could obtain similar insight from him on the subject of the murder. But first, it seemed he was still conducting a medical examination. It is too late for me to do anything worthwhile with regard to the splinting of your arm, though I will check it and rebind it just to be sure. However, 72

I can prepare for you some medicine which will help balance the five phases and restore vigour. Tell me, who treated you? It was Doctor Zhu A quack! snapped Weng. I had the impression that he would have said the same even if I had announced that the Yellow Emperor had attended to me in person. Actually, Coron... er, Doctor Weng, Im very grateful for your ministrations, but I came here about the murder investigation. I presumed so, said Weng, now scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. But we should attend to such matters only after we have ensured our own fitness. I couldnt really argue, though I wondered whether I was going to be hit with a huge bill, and whether Magistrate Du would pay it if I was. Weng passed his finished prescription to his young assistant, who rushed out of the room. now, lets see about this arm, Weng said, setting to work on unwrapping my splint. I understand you were able to examine the body of Zhou Baixian while it was still in the pavilion, I ventured. Yes: my services as coroner are employed by the district yamen as well as by the prefecture, and they summoned me. Quite a remarkable coincidence, I suppose. But lucky for us that I was able to examine the body. What did you observe about the injuries? The most important thing I observed was that there was a single injury: the powerful stroke by which the neck had been severed. There were no other injuries to the body whatsoever. In this respect, the murder precisely resembled the one which is your own responsibility that of Birdie Geng. Moreover, when I examined the body more closely I came to the conclusion that, as with Birdie Geng, the decapitation was achieved with a single, powerful, sustained blow. It was delivered with a very sharp blade, and it cut in between individual vertebrae. I should have mentioned earlier: the body was found on the floor of the pavilion, close by the wall. It could not be easily seen by anyone peering in 73

from outside, if they were standing to the right of the entrance, which is the side on which the path is found. I suspect this is one reason there was some delay in finding the body: I believe one of the workers looked rather casually into the pavilion, and seeing nothing there, reported that he had searched the area and found nothing. I did not follow up this conjecture as it is not really my job to do so. In any case, it is hardly significant. An alternative explanation: that the body was murdered elsewhere, can be easily discounted simply by considering the blood within the pavilion. As you would expect, there was a tremendous amount of blood around. It is my considered opinion not only that the murder was conducted within the pavilion, but that the murderer could not have avoided being splashed by it. I would be surprised if there were not very conspicuous stains on his clothing. When I was told about the murder, I was informed that you had said it was the same murderer, I said. Wengs tongue came to rest between his lips as he carefully tightened the bandages around my splint. Of course, its impossible to say for sure that it is the same murderer, he commented, tying a knot. But I will say this much: the nature of the fatal wound is such that I would consider it an absurd coincidence if the two were not, at the very least, related. That the murders were performed by the same man seems the simplest, most likely solution. There are other possibilities of course When he was in Xinle, Coroner Weng was never this voluble. nor, come to that, anything like as warmly disposed towards me. I wasnt sure I enjoyed his affability any more than I had his surliness. But I couldnt deny that it was good to have his sharp mind addressing the problem. Why do you think the murderer might have struck twice? The first time, a valuable bird was stolen, but the second, theft doesnt seem to have been a motive, I mused. The peculiar circumstances of the first murder are enough to tell us that the murderer is an extremely strange person. Such a person might acquire a taste for killing, and derive a perverse pleasure therefrom. We also dont know what he might be doing with the heads. My own opinion is that the 74

murderer is probably someone of disturbed mind. This, of course, while making it easier to find him, raises the likelihood that court proceedings will be difficult, as such people are rarely competent witnesses. You mentioned the heads. We dont know about Historian Zhou, but Birdie Gengs head has been found. Weng looked momentarily startled. really? Excellent news! Give me the details! It was recovered from the banks of the Sand river some distance from the Willow Park. It was disfigured by its time spent in the water. Why would the murderer have put it there? Can you unravel this riddle? Is there a reason, or is it the incomprehensible mania of a crazed killer? said Weng. I will say this: it seems possible that the pattern will be repeated. You should search for Historian Zhous head along the banks of rivers. You really think so? This man has repeated the method of murder. If he is so inclined towards repetition, why should he not have repeated the method of disposal? I dont say that its certain, but any slight pattern should be pursued. Moreover Weng broke off at the return of his assistant, carrying a bundle of paper packets. Its so convenient having a well-stocked pharmacist along the road. Anything I dont have myself I can send little Tuan here out for. now here you are. This is a special medicine to nourish the heart and relieve any pain you may have. Take it in tea. I will prepare you some now. I watched as Weng prepared me my first dose of medicine, then sipped with apprehension. I had tasted worse. Just. How much do I owe you for your treatment? I tentatively asked. Weng waved his hand dismissively. In the circumstances I think we can regard this as no more than my assistance to you in the course of your duties. You have already been invaluable in that regard. Well, if you now return to Xinle and devote your efforts to finding this killer, that will be ample reward. I was thinking of investigating here a little more. It was, after all, where the most recent murder occurred. 75

True, but I think we agreed that the first murder was spontaneous. It is therefore most likely that the murderer is a resident of Xinle. He killed in Anxi to reduce the chances of being recognised, perhaps, or simply to throw us off the scent. But I am certain that he is from Xinle, and so you are more likely to find him there. First Inspector Chun, and now Coroner Weng. no one seemed to want me in Anxi. very well Doctor Weng. Once more I would like to offer you my sincere gratitude for your help in this matter. Take care on your return journey not to jar your body. A gentle walk would probably be safest. I clasped my hands in salute and left the Coroners mansion.

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I had to see the place where the second murder took place. If possible, I also wanted to see the family of the victim. Over lunch, I racked my brains for the best way to go about it. I couldnt very well start waving my temporary investigators docket about. For one thing, it wouldnt carry very much clout with the family of an Imperial Historian. For another, in Anxi they seemed to be a little stricter about the rules allowing police out into the countryside. And on top of all that, Id been told to go back to Xinle by both the prefectural inspector and the coroner. One option occurred to me pretty early on, but I had to confess, I didnt like it at all. I could pretend to be some kind of ritual expert to deal with the sha spirits. There were several problems with this. The first, and most obvious, was that I would have to fake a profession about which I knew very little. There were likely to be other experts around, and they might expose me. But there were other problems, too. For one thing, the family might not employ such people. In high-class families, it was often believed that sha spirits were a matter of mere superstition just a peasant custom from the south and in some cases no precautions were taken. I supposed it was easier to take such an attitude when you were also sponsoring an army of monks to read the sutras every seven days, and no doubt a Land and Water ritual to boot. If Historian Zhous family were like this, I would be sent packing pretty swiftly. Another worry was that I might already be too late. The murder had happened nearly a month ago. not being able to actually calculate when the sha spirits arrived myself, I might make a fool of myself by arriving after theyd already been and gone. I think what scared me the most, though, was the possibility that I might inadvertently be present when the sha spirits did arrive. I didnt fancy being 77

carried off by some giant supernatural bird, or whatever it was they really were. So, obvious though it may have been, I put the ritual expert plan to one side, trying to think of alternatives. Inevitably there would be paperwork to be done following the death, so I could offer my services as a trained scribe. This was a nice option, since it involved no deceit. But I couldnt really see such a family employing an itinerant scribe. Come to that, whoever had heard of an itinerant scribe? I could pretend to be a distant relative, come to pay my respects. But this I found rather distasteful. I didnt imagine I was going to get far if I showed such blatant disrespect for the departed spirit. By the time Id come up with all these possibilities, Id finished my lunch, and it was time for action. I couldnt decide how I was going to gain access to the Zhou household, but I could at least try to get a look at the body. Id heard it was being kept at the revealing Truth Temple. When I was younger Id visited the temple for some service or other, on the pretext that it was for my mother. I remembered theyd been building a huge brick pagoda at the time, to house some relics or scriptures a monk had brought back from the land of the Buddha. I couldnt remember exactly what it was he had brought back. Probably just some bones that had belonged to one of the Buddhas disciples, or something like that. Mulians little finger, perhaps? Presumably they were still building the pagoda, as I didnt recall noticing it against the skyline as wed approached the city. They said it was going to be eleven storeys high, which seemed to me a bit excessive to keep a little finger in, but Emperor Zhenzong must have known what he was doing in ordering it. Chop down all the woods in Ding To store some funny Indian thing I smiled as the song wed sung in my childhood came back to me. I wondered if they were still singing that song. In any case, the temple wasnt far from the south gate, so I paid my bill and strolled down the main road again, remembering to pick up some incense from a devotional shop on the way, just to help me blend in. As I neared the south gate I headed into the 78

backstreets. I didnt want to be seen by Chun Yong or any of his men who knew me. As I approached the temple I ran into a couple of large carts full of bricks trundling in the direction of the compound, and I started to realise how the song I knew as a child was based in truth. Theyd been building this pagoda for the last thirty-four years, and they were still cutting down trees to burn to fire the bricks, as well as for the scaffolding. I followed the cart into the temple compound, and straight away marvelled at the scale of the construction. This was going to be a magnificent building all right. It might not yet be sticking out much from the skyline, especially when hidden behind the south gate itself, but up close you could see it was going to be massive. Theyd only managed four storeys so far, but it already towered over the surrounding buildings. The only reason I hadnt spotted it earlier was that while in town Id been distracted by the shops, so my eyes were firmly latched on ground level. Being a city temple, the revealing Truth was accustomed to a steady flow of visitors, never mind the construction work, so it was easy to enter without attracting attention. I went through the motions in the great hall, then surreptitiously slipped out to try to find out where the historians body was kept. I had my story ready: a country boy, dazzled by the big city temple, Id lost my way looking for the toilet. Always best to keep deceptions as close to the truth as possible, I had realised. The next courtyard along opened up on the building site, giving me a better view of the scaffolding, and the labourers clambering up it. I could see that the first storey was pretty tall. In fact, now that I looked, I could see that the storeys got slightly less tall progressively as they went up. I reckoned at this rate it would probably end up about twice its current height. The work foreman must have seen me measuring up the height with my fingers, as he wandered over. I expected him to tell me to get lost, but instead he launched into a practised line about the great dome roof on the first storey, and the pillar up the middle in the shape of a pagoda. I quickly realised he had taken me for a tourist and thought he could squeeze a bit 79

of money out of me. I mumbled as best I could about having come to the temple for other matters, and made my escape. In the old days, temples used to be built around pagodas, but nowadays they put the pagoda in front or, as in this case, to one side along the central axis. Off the courtyards to the rear of the temple were the halls used by monks for their own meditations and rituals, and their living quarters as well as, I hoped, the place where they kept coffins. But the temple was a bit more complicated than I had counted on, and not as easy to move around inconspicuously. Can I help you at all? said a sonorous voice from behind me. I turned to see a pretty-faced bald donkey frowning at me. All thought of my carefully concocted excuse fled, and I blurted out: Im a cousin of Historian Zhou, and I was hoping to pay my respects. Ive just arrived from the Eastern Capital I cursed inwardly. This was exactly the lie Id been hoping to avoid. The monk gave me a strange look, then gestured flamboyantly. Please come this way. I will conduct you there. He led me through another courtyard, and along several corridors and walkways to a hall off to the side, away from the pagoda. It would have taken me a long time to find it myself. The coffin was comfortably ensconced in the hall with more funeral regalia than Id seen in my life before. They certainly knew how to lavish offerings on their kin, these Zhous. As soon as I saw the coffin, I dropped to my knees and began to kowtow. I was absolutely sincere, and under my breath I was apologising to the spirit of Historian Zhou for my deception, and explaining that I was desperately trying to see justice done, and catch the man who had killed him. Ill leave you to your devotions then, said my smooth-voiced guide solicitously, before padding out of the hall. Just for good measure, I apologised a couple more times to the spirit, and burned the incense I still had left. Then I remembered why I had come. no one else was in the hall. I glanced back out the door into the courtyard, but that seemed to be deserted too. I hoped it would remain so. 80

I knew that the coffin wouldnt be sealed, as the historians head was yet to be found, but as youd expect of such prosperous folk, the coffin was made pretty sturdily, and with only one arm it was all I could do to slide the lid a little way and open a crack. Then I had to try to twist around to get a look inside without blocking what light there was. The interior of the coffin was dark. All was quiet. My eyes slowly started to adjust, and I began to make out the shape of the headless corpse within. Suddenly I heard footsteps in the sand of the courtyard outside. I grabbed the coffin lid without even being able to think about what I had seen inside, and pulled as hard as I could. My ribs erupted in agony, but the lid slid back. Thank goodness for the excellent carpentry available to the rich. I dropped once more to the floor, and knelt there, weeping in pain. The footsteps entered the hall behind me. I could tell there was more than one person, but the footfalls were quite light, so I assumed they belonged to young acolytes in training at the temple. When I turned my tearstained face to look, my eyes were met by the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. She was wearing funeral garb, in accordance with the rites. Although the mantle she was wearing was untrimmed, undyed sackcloth, as befitted mourning garb, I could see that it was exceptionally well cut and sewn. Her pale face was topped by what appeared to be an unusual hat, though I quickly realised it was her veil, which shed pushed up on her head as she entered the dark hall. Behind her, I could see her maid was also wearing mourning: a linen over-dress. But I didnt spare the maid any attention: my eyes were inexorably drawn to the mistress. We stared at each other for what seemed hours, though it must have been a matter of seconds. In the dim light I thought her face seemed flushed: understandable, given the taboo on the mingling of the sexes, which was observed even more stringently among the upper classes. Were you so devoted to him? she asked, calmly lowering the veil. For a moment I had no idea what she was on about. Then it dawned on me. Here was I, kneeling in front of a coffin, tears streaming down my 81

cheeks. And she must be his wife! Or at least, one of his women I remembered Inspector Chun referring to Zhou having more than one concubine. I really didnt know what to do. I nodded, mutely. Its good of you to come all this way. You should have come to the mansion first, she said. I didnt know the way, was all I could offer. My mind was racing. She seemed to feel she knew who or what I was, and why I was here. All this way, she had said. So my travel-stained clothing had suggested that. Did she think I was a relative? Maybe so, but her choice of wording was strange. Then it hit me! She had looked at my nondescript cap-matched gown and assumed I was a low-ranking scholar or scribe. She thought I was one of the copyists or something at the Institute of History. She laughed. Well its a good thing you ran into me, isnt it! You must come back with us. Whats your name? Bao Xing. I couldnt lie about that. not there, in front of the body of her husband. What happened to your arm? I fell off a horse. What a shame. Do you have any other belongings? I left them, er Well go and fetch them. Yuxiao has some shopping to do: you could accompany her while I pay my respects here. I will meet you in the first courtyard at the hour of the monkey, Mr Bao! And before I knew it I had bowed and stepped back out into the sunlight. This was really my first chance to take in Yuxiao, the maid. I judged her to be my junior by a few years, still in her teens, but with the world-weary air of the experienced servant. She wasnt overtall, and before she replaced her veil in the light of the courtyard, I had seen a round face that in other circumstances I could have described as cheerful. now, though, she turned on me longsufferingly: Stop mooning around! We havent got all day. I hurried after her. She seemed to know her way around the temple pretty well, as she got us out into the main courtyard quite quickly. I have plenty to buy on the main 82

avenue, so if you just come along with me that far, you can go off and get your belongings, and we can meet up at the hour of the monkey. I wasnt really accustomed to being bossed around by women, other than my stepmother, and I was certainly a bit taken aback at being talked to like that by a servant, but I bit my tongue and reflected that she may be a servant, but she was a servant in the household of a high-ranking official. I fell in beside her as we walked back along towards the main avenue. I hear theyre cutting down all the trees in Ding, I ventured. And all to house some Indian thing. She laughed; a high tinkling peal of joy that was quite enchanting. I didnt hear much laughter of that sort. You sound like one of the children on the estate, she said. What, like you? I countered. She turned to look at me. now you really sound like one of the children on the estate, she said, quizzically. I was desperate to ask her a brilliant question that would reveal something important about the household and provide me with a useful clue about the death of Historian Zhou. But I could barely open my mouth and get words out at all. The last time Id had a conversation like this with a girl I was still in my early teens. And I guess it showed. Do you come here often? Every day. The mistress insists on coming to mourn before the coffin. I had been thinking what a remarkable coincidence it was that I should bump into someone from the Zhou household, but perhaps it wasnt so strange, after all. Did you my fumbling attempts to elicit more information were interrupted by our arrival at the main avenue and a peremptory farewell by my companion. I watched her hurry off in the direction of the more fashionable boutiques. She was wearing mourning, but she didnt seem to be in mourning. I doubted that was significant. Servants usually dont have much time for sentiment. Straightening my cap, I made my way back to my inn. 83

*** I arrived back at the temple in good time. Even so, I was surprised to see both the Lady and her maid already there. Somehow I had expected them to be late. They had given me plenty of time to compose myself and come up with a story. But I found I couldnt. I wasnt prepared to concoct some artful deception in order to gain entry to their household. If I was honest, I probably couldnt have lied convincingly to the mistress. So Id decided that I would see how far I could get by simply not volunteering anything I didnt have to. The mistress had seemed very ready to invite me to the household. I couldnt imagine why, but who was I to turn her down? But if I was asked straight out, I would simply tell the truth. I greeted the lady and her maid in the most polite fashion I could contrive, given my splinted arm and the travelling bag slung over my shoulder. Is that all youve got? teased the maid. now, now, Yuxiao, scolded her mistress, gently. I thought she seemed quite cheerful, all things considered. Look, heres the palanquin! Sure enough, an enclosed sedan chair with four bearers came along the road and through the temple gates. As it approached, the lady turned to me: Mr Bao, if you would be so kind as to walk a little way behind the palanquin. Yuxiao will keep you company. I smiled weakly. Just what I needed: a long walk to the Zhou estate in the company of a cocky servant, with ample opportunity to embarrass myself, not to mention reveal the misunderstanding surrounding my invitation. We started walking. Id better fill you in on what you need to know about the household, hadnt I? offered Yuxiao.

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So you got to see another headless corpse, you lucky fellow, you! teased Poet Shi. Followed up by a ravishing beauty. A treat for the senses that must have been. Who could ask for more? But wait, its just occurred to me: another missing head! Where are our heroic labourers, the Shui brothers? Cui brothers Whatever theyre called! Those stalwart head hunters must have been dispatched, surely? It was a neighbouring district and so the Magistrate had no Come now Mr Bao! interrupted Shi with a pitying expression. How can you let a trivial thing like bureaucratic jurisdiction get in the way of such a flight of fancy! Whatever the outcome of this story, I shall treasure these two and their grisly good fortune. Shadows of suppressed irritation crossed Baos face, but when he finally spoke, his voice was as equable as ever. Im sorry to interrupt your enjoyment of the details of the story. But there is still much to be told, and was that not the drum for the Hour of the Boar I heard? Hour of the Boar? Thats a good one Mr Bao. You really are too droll. May I continue? By all means. I am eager to hear what you made of your encounter with such a fine family.

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From the private journal of Bao Xing Etiquette and protocol, those extraordinary legacies of the great sages! As I walked to the Zhou estate behind the palanquin in which his widow travelled, Yuxiao explained it all to me. If a person of humble status such as myself was to be a guest at the household then I would need to know who was who, and what I should and shouldnt do. What a treasure she was! And thank the gods once more for the punctiliousness of the upper classes. As these things go, the Zhou household wasnt excessively large, because there wasnt a large extended family in residence. The Zhous were landed, and went back far enough that branches of the family had split off and had their own estates across the region, as well as homes in the Eastern Capital deriving from periods spent serving the central bureaucracy. Yuxiao told me that only the Historians own branch lived at this particular estate, even though it was generally recognised as the family seat. Before Zhous mourning period had brought him back it had been the father and mother who had lived there. Zhous mother, of course, was still there. Yuxiao couldnt help interspersing her explanation with sufficient gossip that I quickly started to discern some of the political tensions in the household. Because Zhou had no brothers, and his son was only seven, there was a vacuum at the head of the family. The Historians mother, Madam Zhou, clearly regarded herself, in accordance with tradition, as the de facto leader. But Lady Xu, the Historians wife, wasnt going to take that lying down. Yuxiaos mistress, it turned out, was not Zhous wife, after all, but his concubine. Matters were complicated by the fact that although Lady Xu had borne Zhou two daughters, the son and heir was that of a second concubine, Lady Pan. Although naturally the son was brought up to regard Lady Xu as 86

his mother, Lady Pan had nevertheless been allowed to become very close to him. And all this left the first concubine, Lady Lin, in a very weak position. Lady Lin it was who occupied the palanquin we were following. The tensions between the family members were paralleled by tensions between the servants. When the Historian had returned to the family home on the death of his father, he had brought some servants with him. Perhaps wisely, he had not brought his whole staff. In fact, Yuxiao told me, he had closed down his Bianliang household, putting most of his servants out of work, a fact I noted as a possible source of a murderous grudge. Only the personal servants of the family members had been brought along. But even this small number were resented by most of the established household staff. And to complicate matters, some extra staff had been taken on locally when Historian Zhou arrived. Yuxiao explained to me in some detail the levels of servants in the households, and the rules governing who was permitted in which courtyard. I confess I was still ruminating about the conflict between the old and the new servants, and didnt pay as much attention as I should have. The wife and two concubines had each brought her own personal maid, and there were a half a dozen or so additional maids charged with looking after the ladies of the house and performing other duties. One of Zhous daughters was already married out, but the other had her own maid, and the son had two nurse maids, one old and one young. Madam Zhou, the mother, who lived in the rear courtyard, had three maids of her own, and frequently behaved as if the other household servants were her own personal attendants. Yuxiao said she avoided going anywhere near that courtyard if she possibly could. As for the other servants: there may have been few by rich folks standards, but there were plenty of them for me to remember. Starting at the top, there was Wen, the Chief Steward. By all accounts he was the typical loyal family retainer. Hed never been much involved in the resentment between the factions, and hed since been most careful to stay out of the intrigue between the women that had followed the death of the Historian. Probably next in influence was Shui, the cook. Shui was a woman, and by all accounts 87

something of a culinary expert. The old master had found her somewhere down south when he was serving as a circuit commissioner, and knowing a good thing when he ate it, hed offered her a job in his household. Her husband did odd jobs around the mansion, but it was the wife who held power. She had four assistant cooks, as well as two kitchen maids and two kitchen boys. She was even entitled to boss around the ladies maids, if they strayed into her territory. I guess they tried not to. Elsewhere in the house were to be found two assistant stewards reporting to Steward Wen, a gardener and his assistant, a handyman, a doorman, a bathhouse supervisor, a flower arranger I was starting to suffer from a slight sense of disbelief at this point and four page boys. The latters main tasks had been to attend the head of the household, first the old Commissioner, and then Historian Zhou. With both of them gone, the pages were making the most of their relative freedom. This lot were by no means the only occupants of the manor. In addition to the families of the main retainers, there was a whole class of residents who were not regarded as servants, but as paid employees. These included the estate manager, a Mr Han, who had his own house a short distant from the main mansion. The ostler and his lads lived near the stables, obviously, but the personal physician and the art manager who had come from the capital had rooms in the front courtyard of the mansion. The tutor of the young Zhou Yu was a local, but he was also put up at the mansion with his wife and unmarried daughter. Yuxiao said that I would be regarded as closest to them in status and so, subject to the approval of Lady Xu, I would be given a room in the front courtyard. I noticed the point she was making. The widow would be making the decision, not Madam Zhou. Yuxiao was telling me only about the household itself. I knew that on the estate were plenty of other people, both employees reporting to the estate manager, and tenants. Inspector Chun, applying his theory that criminality was inversely related to social sophistication, had dismissed out-of-hand the possibility that the murderer was from within the household itself. I was more sceptical. All this manoeuvring and politicking spoke to me of the sort of tension that 88

might blow up into violence. And raging outbursts not being the way of the upper classes, it was possible that a grudge might be nursed into the sort of malevolence that had dispatched Historian Zhou. There was the problem of the murder of Birdie Geng. But I had started to form a new idea about that. Trying to concentrate on what Yuxiao was saying, while at the same time relating it to my speculations on the murder, took up all my concentration. I suddenly let out a cry and looked around me anxiously. Whats wrong? asked Yuxiao. I dont know where I am. She laughed at me, and I had to admit I had sounded rather pathetic. But I had taken no notice at all of the roads we had taken or even, come to that, of the scenery. Looking back the way wed come I saw no sign of the town; though far from hilly, the land was sufficiently undulating to conceal our point of departure. I could at least trace the path of the road we had taken back into the distance. Dont worry, Yuxiao reassured me, with a teasing smile. Havent you listened to anything Ive said? There are plenty of servants at the household, and if you need to go back to Anxi one of them will show you the way. And in any case, the mistress and I go into town every day, so you can come with us. It was true. I couldnt explain to her that my anxiety stemmed from the possibility that my deception might be compromised, and I might have to flee in the night. As surreptitiously as I could, I made a note of landmarks we passed on the rest of the journey. *** Yuxiao continued to inform and entertain me until the mansion came into view. And what a view it was. Its siting was superb even I, a simpleton in matters of feng shui, could see that. It faced south, and behind it rose a well-shaped hill, offering the protection of the Black Tortoise. There was undulating land on left and right, with 89

the left slightly higher than the right. Best of all, a gently-flowing stream ran across the front of the property. We crossed the picturesque wooden bridge to the open area before the gate, and I took in the size of the mansion. It had to be as big as the revealing Truth temple in Anxi, but I couldnt see any buildings that were obviously two storeys tall. The interior was well shielded by the plain outer wall, which simply drew attention to the impressive gate. It was opened as we approached, no doubt by a watchful doorman. We passed through, and I saw what lay inside the walls of truly wealthy people. The obvious comparisons were with the Sun Family Mansion, which showed what happened when down-at-heel officials tried to keep up appearances, and Coroner Wengs townhouse, which now struck me as a gaudy affectation. Here there were no fancy golden feng birds on the facing wall, but a tasteful, slightly faded pattern of auspicious symbols, that looked like it went back a few years. We entered the front courtyard, and servants came out to help Yuxiao fuss over the mistress as she emerged from the palanquin. Mr Bao, she said once she was out and smoothed down, if you would be so kind as to wait in the hall over there, I will have the arrangements made. Yuxiao, please conduct Mr Bao to the audience hall. I bowed once more to Lady Lin, the veiled vision of loveliness, as she made her way towards the next courtyard. If I were a poet, I would already be composing stanzas in my head. On balance, its probably a good thing Im not a poet. You know what poets are like. Yuxiao took me in to what they called the audience hall. Again, I could see the luxury straight away, not in conspicuous decoration, but in the tastefulness and quality of the furniture. The walls were not decorated with lurid ornamentation, but by two tasteful hanging scrolls. There was also a large vase presumably antique containing artfully arranged flowers. I couldnt say what sort they were, as they certainly werent the kind that grew around my home, but very pretty they were. I was directed to a rather impressive chair. Sit here a while and Ill fetch you some tea, offered Yuxiao. Id realised on the walk here that despite her initial cheekiness, the ladys maid could be both friendly and thoughtful. I was already indebted to her 90

for the details of the household. I just hoped I wouldnt have to repay that kindness by having her mistress arrested for murder. no, of course not. Though I may not share Inspector Chuns conviction that the scholar class is fundamentally disinclined to criminal activity, I was sure that Lady Lin had not killed her husband. If nothing else, I didnt think she was strong enough to slice his head off. With Yuxiao out of the room I had more chance to look at the scrolls on the walls. One was a brush-drawn poem. very finely brushed it was too, though I could identify neither the writing style nor the poet whose work it was. It could have been the Historians own work, for all I knew, or his fathers. It impressed me, anyway. The other scroll was a picture. It was a very delicately rendered picture of some birds on the branch of a tree. I could hardly describe myself as an expert on art I knew less about painting than about poetry but something about it struck me as unusual. I hadnt seen this sort of painting before. It took me a while to work out what was special about it, but I decided in the end it was the way the white space of the scroll itself was used. Much of the scroll was empty, but rather than feeling that it was just areas the artist had missed, you felt that it was an important part of the picture. Quite clever. I looked to see if the artists name was written on it, but there didnt seem to be anything I mecould clearly identify. As I searched, I caught the hint of some kind of perfume or incense being burned. This was living in style all right. Yuxiao brought the tea, and waited with me. I wished shed brought a cup for herself; I felt very uncomfortable sipping fine Silver Leaves of Ten Thousand Springs tea for that, she had informed me, was what I was drinking while she went without. But I knew shed probably get scolded by whoever it was I was going to be meeting if she had brought a cup. Here, have some of this yourself, I said, passing her my cup. Well, I was brought up in the country, and I perhaps hadnt learned the niceties of Society behaviour as well as I should. I hadnt seen such a look of shock on her face before. She raised her sleeve to cover her face, but not before Id seen a smile break out. And she 91

did accept the cup, and drained it behind her sleeve before refilling it for me from the pot. And, for the first time since Id met her, she had nothing to say. *** The woman who entered the audience hall was stately in bearing, and, even if she were not as beautiful as Lady Lin, nevertheless every inch a patrician. I felt acutely uncomfortable from the moment she came in. Like Lady Lin, she was dressed in mourning, but with an almost transparent, gauzy veil beneath immaculately coiffured hair pinned with delicately-carved bamboo. I immediately kowtowed, wondering how much each abasement added to the time my injuries would take to heal. Yuxiao bowed, and took her leave. My hostess was accompanied by her own maid, and behind them came a middle-aged man whom I judged to be a senior servant. I supposed he was present in order to maintain some propriety, although the circumstances were rather exceptional. I deemed it wise to introduce myself before I was asked embarrassing questions. This humble person, called Bao, presents himself with his deepest condolences, and hopes he can be of service. I understand you are a scribe? she asked. She hadnt introduced herself, but I guessed she must be Historian Zhous official wife, Lady Xu. She wasnt old enough to be his mother, and Yuxiao had said the wife would be making the decision. Moreover, she had a funny accent, which I judged to be from somewhere to the west. I have some meagre facility with letters, I offered. Good. In that case you can be of service. Steward Wen here will conduct you to your room. Tomorrow you can begin work on ordering my late husbands papers. That is all. I bowed again as she swept out of the hall. It hadnt been at all what I had expected. A brief interview and I now seemed to be a family employee. The lady apparently did not care to indulge in any chit-chat with me. I suppose I was too far beneath her, and there was the embarrassment of

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the taboo-breaking encounter between inner and outer quarters. But why should she be so keen to employ me? I was left in the room with the steward. I wasnt absolutely certain of the correct etiquette, but I gave him a polite gesture of greeting to be on the safe side. I fully expected him to be deeply suspicious of me, but he betrayed no trace of it as he returned my greeting. I am Wen, he said. Ill show you your room. He led me out into the courtyard. Theres one thing I need to know: are you here officially or purely in a private capacity? he asked as we walked to the building on the other side. The question took me by surprise. I weighed up the possibilities as quickly as I could, and remembered that I had decided to tell the truth. not all of it, perhaps, but the truth all the same. Officially, I replied. He gave a firm, satisfied nod. I already knew from my conversation with Yuxiao that there were tensions in this household. What I didnt know was how I would fit into them. Wen took me to my room in the outer courtyard, in a wing which I understood to be reserved for guests and favoured employees. He told me I was welcome to take a bath if I cared to, but Id have to wait until after one of the other inhabitants of the outer courtyard was finished. Id had a bath yesterday, and although I was far from being one of the lice-hosts of the Xinle yamen, I thought two in as many days was going a bit far. So I politely declined and asked about dinner. Meals in this household followed a strict schedule. Id heard from Yuxiao that Cook Shui was something of a firebrand, and I wondered whether it was a mark of her power that she could insist on everybody else ordering their eating according to her timetable. Then again, maybe when you are catering for such a crowd things have to be done this way. I would be eating with the other male denizens of the outer courtyard. It was not considered proper for these people to eat with the family, and in any case, with the menfolk depleted to a single young boy there was the added worry about the sex taboo. At the hour of the dog the food would be brought by kitchen attendants to the smaller hall of the outer courtyard, in 93

which we were expected to assemble. Wen told me not to worry, hed come round for me at that time and show me to the hall. He also said hed send a page round with a new robe for me, so mine could be washed. And so it was, at the hour of the dog, that I found myself dressed in a slightly baggy, but nevertheless well-made, parrot-green robe and sitting on a slightly raised podium in the dining hall off the outer courtyard, in the company of other Zhou employees and hangers-on.

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How was I going to introduce myself to my companions at dinner? As I was running through all the ways in which I could say very little in as many words as possible without it seeming rudely evasive, Steward Wen intervened. This is Mr Bao, he announced to the other diners. He has come here in an official capacity in order to take care of the late Historians final writings. Im sure you will show him the consideration he deserves. That last bit sounded rather ominous to me, but maybe working as a yamen clerk had just made me paranoid. In any case, my charmed life in the household continued, as I clasped my hands together and greeted each of the others around the table in turn. I was slightly surprised to realise that Steward Wen would be eating with us. I had assumed that someone in his position would eat with the other male servants, or with his own family. But then, I supposed, he was eating with us as a representative of the Zhou family. He continued, addressing his remarks mainly to me, it seemed, but loud enough that all could hear: We men all share our food here as members of the Zhou household, so we dont stand on ceremony. We talk freely in this hall, without regard for rank or age. Wen certainly acted the host, pointing out the others to me, though he avoided any quips and stuck strictly to their names and jobs. There were eight of us sitting in the dining room, a chamber which, if not quite as opulently appointed as the audience chamber, was nevertheless the most palatial room in which I had ever been privileged to dine. Steward Wen seemed to be introducing the other guests in order of prestige. First was Doctor Yan, a young, rather nervous-looking individual with a wispy beard. He was supposedly employed to look after the health of the entire household, but I had inferred from what Yuxiao had told me that he really only attended the contingent who had come from the capital, being treated with suspicion by 95

the others. He seemed to be top dog here on account of the nature of his trade. I wondered if hed attended the national Medical University. The art manager, Mr Bi, was another member of the Bianliang faction, but unlike Doctor Yan he was highly convivial. And well he might be, I thought. How difficult can it be to look after a bunch of pictures and pots, and buy the occasional new one? The cut of his clothes suggested that Mr Bi was no stranger to wealth, and I guessed that this was the real reason why he was introduced to me ahead of Tutor Zeng, an older gentleman who affected a detached, scholarly manner rather unconvincingly. Or perhaps he was just shortsighted. The professionals introduced so far hadnt made a great impression on me. But Mr Han, who as the estate manager seemed more like someone who had to work for his pay, was more of a character. Hans hair was peppered with grey, his squarish face burnished by the sun to the finish of smooth, dark leather. When introduced he looked hard at me, and hailed me: Welcome to the manor! There was no doubting that Mr Han was a local. But he dined here with the interlopers all the same. The same was true of the gardener, a Mr Yin. He nodded to me as he was introduced, but his face gave nothing away. I couldnt even guess at his age, save to say that he was older than me. The last to be introduced was Mr Chai, the flower arranger. I took an instant dislike to him. Perhaps it was the barely concealed scowl with which he greeted me. Or maybe I just didnt like overlong hair and sunken cheeks. And a tendency to fidget. Arranging flowers didnt seem like much of a job to me: certainly no better than managing art. Couldnt they have just got one of the servants to do it? There were plenty of them, though of course they dined elsewhere. If I was going to make something of my stay here, I would not only have to do whatever it was Lady Xu expected of me, but also find out everything I could about this gathering of retainers. Inspector Chun would, I was sure, have directed his energies to the servants at the bottom of the heap. I hadnt discounted them, certainly, but if circumstances dictated that I start with this little group, then so be it. 96

Even while the introductions were being conducted, the food had been arriving. As I had expected, it looked spectacular. We all had separate little bowls for each dish, artfully arranged on our own low lacquered miniature table. This was classical style, all right. My family were strictly chairs-roundthe-table people. The first thing that struck me was the number of dishes. I liked a bit of variety myself, but I thought eight was quite impressive. rice! I exclaimed. Manager Han, who was sitting next to me, leaned over. We have official rice every day here. Dont forget, the cooks a southerner. A horrible thought struck me. Does she serve some of those really strange things they eat down south? You know, frogs, snakes, that sort of thing? Han chuckled. Shes not from that far south. Somewhere near Linan, I believe. Though wait a moment he waved at one of the attending kitchen staff, then pointed at a dish on his table, an assemblage of green vegetable with some dark meat. Hey, what birds this? raven, sir. Oh well. Han smiled ruefully. Shes really very good at balancing flavours. If you like game, and you dont mind chewing a bit, its not too bad. I guessed that Manager Han wasnt all that keen on game, and I resolved to be careful in sampling that dish. By now the warmed wine flasks had arrived, and our cups were charged. My fellow diners dived into their meals with alacrity, so I followed their example. Some of the tastes were a little unusual (and I couldnt number myself among the admirers of raven meat) but overall the food was astonishing. The combinations of vegetables with a variety of meat Id never seen in a single meal before were expertly judged. Some of the vegetables were familiar standards; others, when I enquired about them, turned out to be everyday plants burweed, for example that I wouldnt have imagined could taste so good. Still others, such as the chilled water chestnuts, seemed incredibly exotic to me. Do you dine like this every day? I asked Manager Han. Oh no, he replied. The menu changes every day. 97

I couldnt be sure whether he was teasing me, pretending not to understand my question. But evidently I was going to be well fed during my stay here. It wasnt always this good, Han continued. Up until a year ago wed get pretty standard fare. I think one of the assistant cooks would be told to deal with our meals. But were beneficiaries of the mourning period. The family insist on observing a restricted diet while in mourning, eating millet and suchlike, and since Shui wants to keep in practice, she tries her fancy stuff out on us. now and again she actually comes out and asks us what we think of it, but take a tip from me here Han leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, Tell her you like it. Shes got a temper like a tiger, that woman. And the strength to back it up, too. Strong enough to cut off a human head? I wondered. Shui, like Han, had been employed by Historian Zhous father. Who knows what she had thought of the new head of the family? In a lull in the conversation, Mr Chai the flower arranger called over to me, in none too friendly a manner: Youll be scavenging what you can from the Historians work and taking it back to the capital, will you? Steward Wen shot Chai what I took to be a warning look, but I thought a strong response was needed. Chai hadnt liked me from the start, and I wasnt going to let him think he could push me around. Ill be deciding exactly what steps are to be taken only after going through all the available material as carefully as I can, I said. Did you happen to know anything about the Historians writing yourself? There was a quickly suppressed snort from somewhere to my left. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Mr Chai, so I couldnt be sure, but I thought out of the corner of my eye I saw the art manager, Mr Bi, smirking. Meanwhile I had succeeded in rattling Chai, it seemed. Of course I know that it was of the finest literary distinction! he replied. And unofficial, of course, chimed in Steward Wen. He was in mourning, after all. His writings were, of course, merely those of a gentleman pursuing a scholarly interest. Tutor Zeng cleared his throat. nevertheless, there are many precedents 98

for privately produced histories being incorporated into the official record. Scholar Bao may be performing an important service to the Empire. The tutors absurd flattery, on top of Chais hostility, only served to convince me that it would have been impossible to enter a household so riven with conflict without immediately being embroiled in it. I had thought that my task of how was it Wen had put it? taking care of the late Historians final writings would be no more than a little clerical housekeeping. But apparently some of those present saw a significance in it that might threaten them, or which they might turn to their advantage. Well, Id just have to try to turn it to my own advantage. I cant help noticing that you have your arm in a sling, put in Mr Bi, as attention was now focused on me. Have you considered availing yourself of the services of Doctor Yan? With all due respect to the good doctor, I replied, hoping I could muster sufficient tact, and noting that what seemed to be a look of alarm had crossed Doctor Yans ever-anxious features. Ive been seen by two doctors. It does seem to be healing and I suddenly remembered, and rummaged around in my sleeve, I have been prescribed a tonic. I waved my little package of medicine in what must have been a hugely overdramatic way. Doctor Yan looked relieved that I might not be making any professional demands on him after all. nevertheless, it cant hurt to have it checked? pressed Mr Bi. I wondered why he was so keen for me to avail myself of the doctors services, but didnt see any reason to argue, and, as vaguely as I could, assured that doctor that I would visit him in the next couple of days. Instead of sitting there waiting for someone to come up with a jibe or a question that would put me in a bad position, I thought Id better move on to the attack. Mr Bi, I couldnt help noticing some rather nice wall scrolls in the audience hall. I wonder if you could tell me a little about them? There was a brief pause, and then a chuckle from Manager Han alerted me to the smiles on several of the faces around the table. The jovial Bi seemed a little taken aback. 99

You have very discriminating eyes, Mr Bao, he replied. Where you could have admired the masterfully-crafted celadon vase I procured for the household back when we were in the capital, or the exquisite arrangement which Mr Chai saw fit to put in it, you chose instead to heap your compliments on the late Historians poetry and his womans painting. Lady Xu painted that? I marvelled. The art manager sighed. not the first lady. She is an admirable woman, from a noble family, and we are all very grateful for her strength of character at this trying time, I noticed a slight stiffening around the table. Bi was sticking his finger into the open wound that divided this household. But as is so often the case in such matters, it was in his concubine that Historian Zhou was permitted to indulge his interest in all things aesthetic. Lady Lin, then? But shes very good isnt she? I had already antagonised the man by mistake. I thought I might as well throw him a bone. She certainly has her own style. I think it really depends on what you consider to be the important subjects of paintings. For myself, I believe that the majestic landscapes of Ju ran are not only remarkable technical achievements, but philosophical statements in their own right. They are expressing the profound relationship between Man, nature and Heaven, in a manner which can be apprehended even by those whose scholarly attainments are lacking, Bi pointedly glanced over at Chai, who responded by stifling a yawn. Lady Lins work is technically accomplished, Bi continued, but I feel that her choice of subject matter prevents it from rising above the merely decorative. naturally, some might say, for how can we expect deep philosophical insight from a woman? These comments disturbed me, but with my own ignorance of the world of fine art I could see no way to leap to the defence of the late Historians concubine even though she was, I considered, effectively my sponsor in the household. I was already acutely aware that I had said nothing about Zhous poetry, and that my omission might be taken as significant by some. Tutor Zeng chose this moment for another of his interventions. Ban Zhao is but one counterexample to your argument. In addition to her famous advice to women on their good conduct, she proved an able historian 100

But Historian Zhou himself expressed on several occasions his poor opinion of Ban Zhao. He said that her Guidance for Women was a gross distortion of the sages position, and that the tendency to simplify the teachings of the Master down to a small number of absolute rules which could be comprehended by the common folk was antithetical to good philosophy. Mr Bi clearly loved an argument. The tutor looked highly discomfited. I guessed that he had a retort, but who would wish to argue against the opinions of the deceased head of the household? To avoid getting embroiled in further such sparring, I quietly asked Manager Han about the estate. He was happy to tell me all about the lands controlled by the Zhous, as well as about the tenants. I may have been a poor judge of such things, but I formed the impression, given the way Manager Han clearly showed an interest in the tenants affairs, that a grievance was unlikely. You never know, of course, but I couldnt help comparing with Geng Yu and his wife, and their treatment of the weavers who were directly responsible for their livelihood. Han talked about the tenant farmers on the Zhou estate in the manner of someone talking about an extended family. I was curious to learn about the location of the pavilion in which the corpse was found, but I thought it would be imprudent to mention it, and Han didnt come to the topic on his own. Luckily, the arguments that raged during the rest of the meal, as free-flowing wine loosened tongues and manners more, passed me by. Perhaps because I was talking to Manager Han, no one pestered me further or if they did, I didnt notice. Occasionally I tried to catch what other people were talking about, to see if there was anything useful to be learned. But it was either trivial banter, or stuff which I couldnt make out: references to people and events unknown. Dinner over, I returned to my room. It wasnt huge, but it was clean and well appointed. It had a black lacquered bed with a comfortable-looking mattress, and as I was aching a bit I gratefully eased myself on to it and started to think, as best I could given the amount of wine I had drunk. I had been remarkably lucky so far. I was now in the household, and I hadnt really told any lies. Dinner had been nerve-wracking but it had at 101

least given me a clear demonstration of the tensions here. Inspector Chun believed in the beneficent influence of the classics, but now more than ever I doubted. Even if he was right, the households of scholars contained plenty of people whose lives were relatively insulated from the salutary effects of the sages work. no, I felt the inspector was nave. Or perhaps it was just convenient for him to believe what he did, since it made it unnecessary to conduct potentially risky investigations of the rich and powerful. On the other hand, I realised with a shock that since I had entered this household, Id been assessing everyone I saw in terms of whether they might or might not be Zhous murderer. In all probability, though, I hadnt met the murderer. For any of my fellow diners to have killed Zhou, they would have had to slip out of the household either unnoticed or sure that their movements would not be reported. I was pretty sure that the main gate was manned during the day, and although there were no doubt other exits from the rear courtyards of the manor, I doubted anyone from our section could access them unremarked. But of course, there were always possibilities My head hurt, and although I had planned to wander around a little before sleeping, I didnt feel up to it. Better to get some rest and see what the morning would bring.

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