Sandalwood Death: A Novel (Chinese Literature Today Book Series)

clumps—her eyebrows. I also saw the daughter of Hanlin Scholar Ji, who was attended by four maidservants; she was reputed to be peerless in the art of embroidery and was a talented musician, proficient in instruments from the zither to the lute and balloon guitar. Sadly, she had a small nose and undersized ears that combined to make her look like a little bitch with tiny, toad-like eyes. The whores who walked out of Rouge Alley, on the other hand, laughed and wiggled like chimps and had a lively good time. After taking in everything around me, I held my head up proudly and threw out my chest, drawing approving stares from all the young scamps, who looked me over admiringly. Their mouths hung open like dark caves; slobber wetted their chins. I smiled and struck a pose. My dear boys, my little darlings, go home and enjoy your erotic dreams. Take a long look—this is my good deed for the day. Well, they stood there besotted for a while, and when they finally regained their senses, they let out a roar that made the ground tremble. Then came the lusty shouts:
    “Dog-Meat Xishi, the best in Gaomi!”
    “Look look look at that peach-blossom face and willow waist. The graceful neck of a mantis and the shapely legs of a white crane!”
    “The top part is to die for; the bottom part will petrify you! Only Eminence Qian, with his strange obsession, can appreciate the big feet of a living fairy!”
    Watch your tongues, boys. What you say by the roadside is heard in the grass. If someone reports you, you’ll be whisked inside the yamen to have your backsides turned to mush by forty swats of the paddle.
    Go on, little monkeys, say what you want. I’m in no mood today to take offense. Who cares what you imps think as long as His Eminence likes what he sees? I’m here for the swings, not to listen to your silly talk. I know you’d just love to lap up my pee.
    At the moment no one was using the swings, their thick, wet ropes swaying in the drizzle, waiting for me. I tossed away my umbrella, which was caught by a little monkey that ran up as I jumped forward, like a carp leaping out of the water. I grabbed the ropes, jumped a second time, and landed on the swing seat with both feet. Now you children will see the advantage of having big feet. “Hey, boys and girls,” I shouted, “open your eyes and take a lesson on the art of swinging. Coal looks clean compared to the face of the fat, clumsy girl who sat on the swing before me. A millstone is tiny compared to her backside, and water chestnuts are bigger than her feet. What was someone like that doing on a swing set? How mortifying! She looked like a lizard. What is a swing set, after all? It’s a moving stage for an actor to display her skills and show off her face; she’s a sampan riding the waves, she’s the wind of desire, the surge of seduction, the rage of passion, the epitome of lust. This is a chance for a woman to act the siren. Why do you think my gandieh chose this spot to build a swing set? Because of his devotion to the people? Hah! You think too highly of yourselves. I’ll tell you why. He built it for me, as my Qingming gift. Go ask him if you don’t believe me. I took dog meat to him last night, and after our frolic in bed, he put his arms around me and said, ‘Tomorrow is Qingming, my pet, my precious, and I have built you a swing set on the Southern Academy parade ground. I know you once played the sword-and-horse role, so go out there and put your feet to work. You might not make a splash for all of Shandong, but for my sake make one for all of Gaomi County. Let those commoners know that Qian’s little pet is special, another Hua Mulan! Let them know that big feet are better than bound ones, and that Qian will change prevailing customs by prohibiting the practice of binding women’s feet.’
    “I said, ‘Gandieh, you have been so sad about what happened to my dieh. You are taking a risk by protecting him. And when you are unhappy, I am in no mood for entertainments.’ Well, he kissed my foot and said with an emotional sigh:
    “’Meiniang, my dearest, I want to use Qingming to sweep all gloomy, inauspicious signs out of the county. The dead cannot be brought back to life, but the living have a right to a little gaiety. No one sympathizes with a grumbler, who winds up being the butt of jokes. But if you square your shoulders and get tough, tougher than everyone else, ready to take them on, you’ll have them where you want them. Writers will