“It is yours for a song,” said Master Li. “In this case a song means a large purse of fake gold coins, two elegant suits of clothes, the temporary use of a palatial palanquin and suitably attired bearers, a cart of garbage, and a goat.”
One-Eyed Wong did some mental addition.
“No goat.”
“But I must have a goat.”
“It isn't that good an earring.”
“It doesn't have to be that good a goat.”
“No goat.”
“But you not only get the earring, you also get the ear that is attached to it,” said Master Li.
The proprietors bent over the table and examined the bloody thing with interest.
“This is not a very good ear,” sneered One-Eyed Wong.
“It is a terrible ear,” sneered Fat Fu.
“Revolting,” sneered One-Eyed Wong.
“Worst ear I ever saw,” sneered Fat Fu.
“Besides, what good is it?” asked One-Eyed Wong.
“Look at the vile creature it came from, and imagine the filth that has been hissed into it.” Master Li bent over the table and whispered, “Let us assume that you have an enemy.”
“Enemy,” said One-Eyed Wong.
“He is a wealthy man with a country estate.”
“Estate,” said Fat Fu.
“A stream flows through the estate.”
“Stream,” said One-Eyed Wong.
“It is midnight. You climb the fence and cleverly elude the dogs. Silent as a shadow you slip to the top of the stream and peer around slyly. Then you take this revolting ear from your pocket and dip it into the water, and words of such vileness flow out that the fish are poisoned for miles, and your enemy's cattle drink from the stream and drop dead on the spot, and his lush irrigated fields wither into bleak desolation, and his children splash in their bathing pool and acquire leprosy, and all for the price of a goat.”
Fat Fu buried her face in her hands.
“Ten thousand blessings upon the mother who brought Li Kao into the world,” she sobbed, while One-Eyed Wong dabbed at his eyes with a filthy handkerchief and sniffled, “Sold.”
In the country my life had been attuned to the rhythm of the seasons, and things happened gradually. Now I had entered the whirlwind world of Li Kao, and I believe that I was in a state of shock. At any rate, the next thing that I remember was riding through the streets with Li Kao and Fat Fu in a palatial palanquin, while One-Eyed Wong marched ahead of us and bashed the lower classes out of the way with a gold-tipped staff. One-Eyed Wong was dressed as the majordomo of a great house, and Fat Fu was attired as a noble nurse, and Master Li and I dazzled the eyes in tunics of sea-green silk that were secured by silver girdles with borders of jade. The jeweled pendants that dangled from our fine tasseled hats tinkled in the breeze, and we languidly waved gold-splattered Szech'uen fans.
A servant brought up the rear, dragging a cart filled with garbage and a mangy goat. The servant was a thug of low appearance with a bandage around his head, and he kept whimpering, “My ear!”
“The house of Miser Shen,” said Fat Fu, pointing ahead to a large unpainted building in front of which cheap incense burned before the statues of the Immortal of Commerical Profits, the Celestial Discoverer of Buried Treasures, the Lord of Lucrative Legacies, and every other greedy deity in the Heavenly Ministry of Wealth. “Miser Shen owns eight flourishing businesses, six houses in six different cities, one carriage, one sedan chair, one horse, three cows, ten pigs, twenty chickens, eight savage guard dogs, seven half-starved servants, and one young and beautiful concubine named Pretty Ping,” said Fat Fu. “He acquired all of them by foreclosing mortgages.”
Ahead of us was an old peasant with a mule that was hauling a stone-wheeled cart that belonged in a museum.
“Manure!” he shouted in a quavering melancholy voice. “Fresh manuuuuuuure!”
Inside the house a rasping voice exclaimed, “Stone wheels? Stone wheels in Peking?” Shutters flew open and an extraordinarily ugly gentleman stuck his head out. “Great Buddha, they are stone wheels!” he yelled, and he vanished inside the house. A moment later I heard him scream, “Cook! Cook! Don't waste a second!” And then the front door crashed open and Miser Shen and his cook raced outside and fell in behind the ancient cart.
They were carrying armloads of kitchen cutlery, which they began to sharpen against the slowly revolving stone wheels.
“At least two copper coins saved, Master!” the cook cried.
“What a bonanza!” howled Miser Shen.
“Manure!” cried the peasant. “Fresh manuuuure!”
Another pair of shutters flew open, and Fat Fu pointed toward a heart-shaped face and a pair of luscious almond eyes.
“Pretty Ping,” she said. “Pretty Ping owns one cheap dress, one cheap coat, one cheap hat, one pair of cheap sandals, one pair of cheap shoes, one cheap comb, one cheap ring, and enough humiliation to last twenty lifetimes.”
“More cutlery!” howled Miser Shen. “Bring the hoes and shovels too!”
“One million mortifications,” moaned Pretty Ping, and the shutters slammed shut.
“Manure!” the old peasant cried. “Fresh manuuuure!”
“The heat,” Master Li panted, fluttering his fan in front of his face. “The stench. The noise!”
“Our lord is weary and must rest!” Fat Fu shouted to One-Eyed Wong.
“Even this pigpen will do,” Master Li said weakly.
One-Eyed Wong rapped Miser Shen's shoulder with his gold-tipped staff.
“You there!” he bellowed. “A thousand blessings have descended upon you, for Lord Li of Kao has condescended to rest in your miserable hovel!”
“Eh?” said Miser Shen, and he gaped at the gold coin that One-Eyed Wong slapped into his hand.
“Lord Li of Kao shall also require a suite for his beloved ward, Lord Lu of Yu!” bellowed One-Eyed Wong, slapping a second gold coin into Miser Shen's hand.
“Eh?” said Miser Shen, and a third gold coin smacked into his palm.
“Lord Li of Kao shall also require a suite for his goat!” bellowed One-Eyed Wong.
“Your master must be made of gold!” Miser Shen gasped.
“No,” One-Eyed Wong said absentmindedly. “His goat is.”
A few minutes later I found myself in Miser Shen's best room with Li Kao, the goat, and the garbage. The fake gold coins were concealed inside fish heads and mildewed mangoes, and Li Kao fed a shovelful of the stuff to the goat. This was followed by a pint of castor oil, and shortly thereafter he raked through the mess on the floor with a pair of silver tongs and extracted two glittering coins.
“What!” he cried. “Only two gold coins? Miserable beast, do not arouse the wrath of Lord Li of Kao!”
A dull thump from the hallway suggested that Miser Shen had toppled from a peephole in a dead faint. Li Kao gave him time to recover, and then tried again with the garbage and castor oil.
“Four? Four gold coins?” he yelled furiously. “Insolent animal, Lord Li of Kao requires four hundred coins a day to maintain the style to which he is accustomed!”
The dull thump shook the flimsy wall. After Miser Shen recovered, Master Li tried for a third time, and now his rage knew no bounds.
“Six? Six gold coins? Cretinous creture, have you never heard of geometric progression? Two, four, eight, not two, four, six! I shall sell you for dog food and return to the Glittering Glades of Golden Grain for a better goat!”
The sound of the thump suggested that Miser Shen would be unconscious for quite some time, and Master Li led me out into the hallway. As we stepped over the prostrate body he took my arm and said quite seriously, “Number Ten Ox, if we are to survive our visit to the Ancestress you must learn that a soldier's best shield is a light heart. If you continue with that long face and soggy soul you will be the death of us, and we will attend to the matter immediately.” He trotted briskly up the stairs and opened doors until he found the right one.
