Ignoring him, the old man picked up his cleaver and hacked at the dog’s neck, spattering the scalding soup about. Once he’d severed the head, he stuck a metal skewer into it and held it out over the bar. ‘I said I want dog meat!’ Yu Zhan’ao snapped, his ire rising.
The old man threw the dog head down on the bar and said angrily, ‘That’s what I’ve got. Take it or leave it!’
‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’
‘Just sit there like a good little boy!’ the old man warned. ‘What makes you think you can eat dog meat? I’m saving that for Spotted Neck.’
Spotted Neck was a famous bandit chief in Northeast Gaomi Township. Just hearing the name was enough to intimidate Yu Zhan’ao, for Spotted Neck was reputed to be a crack shot. His trademark of firing three shots in a circular motion had earned him the nickname Three-Nod Phoenix. People who knew guns could tell just by listening that Spotted Neck was nearby. Reluctantly Yu Zhan’ao held his tongue and, with the bowl of wine in one hand, reached out and picked up the dog head, then took a spiteful bite out of the animal’s snout. It was delicious, and he was ravenously hungry, so he dug in, eating quickly until the head and the wine were gone. With a final gaze at the bony skull, he stood up and belched.
‘One silver dollar,’ the fat old man said.
‘I’ve only got seven coppers,’ Yu Zhan’ao said, tossing the coins down on the table.
‘I said one silver dollar!’
‘And I said I’ve only got seven coppers!’
‘Do you really expect to eat without paying, boy?’
‘I’ve got seven copper coins and that’s it.’ Yu Zhan’ao stood up to leave, but the fat old man ran around the bar and grabbed him. As they were struggling, a tall, beefy man walked into the bar.
‘Hey, Gook, how come you haven’t lit your lantern?’
‘This guy thinks he can eat without paying!’
‘Cut out his tongue!’ the man said darkly. ‘And light the lantern!’
The fat old man let go of Yu Zhan’ao and walked behind the bar, where he stoked the fire and lit a bean-oil lamp. The glimmering light illuminated the stranger’s dark face. Yu Zhan’ao noticed that he was dressed in black satin from head to toe: a jacket with a row of cloth buttons down the front, a pair of wide-legged trousers tied at the ankles with black cotton straps, and black, double-buckled cloth shoes. His long, thick neck had a white spot on it the size of a fist. This, Yu Zhan’ao thought to himself, must be Spotted Neck.
Spotted Neck sized up Yu Zhan’ao, then stuck out his left hand and rested three fingers on his forehead. Yu Zhan’ao looked at him curiously.
Spotted Neck shook his head disapprovingly. ‘Not a bandit?’
‘I’m a sedan bearer for the service company.’
‘So you make your living with a pole,’ Spotted Neck said derisively. ‘Interested in eating fistcakes with me?’
‘No,’ Yu Zhan’ao replied.
‘Then get the hell out of here. You’re still young, so I’ll let you keep your tongue for kissing women! Go on, and watch what you say.’
Yu Zhan’ao backed out of the tavern, not sure whether he was angry or scared. He had grudging respect for the way Spotted Neck carried himself, but not to the exclusion of loathing.
Born into poverty, Yu Zhan’ao had lost his father when he was just a boy. So he and his mother had eked out a living by tending three mou – less than half an acre – of miserable land. His uncle, Big Tooth Yu, who dealt in mules and horses, had occasionally helped mother and son financially, but not all that often.
Then, when he was thirteen, his mother began an affair with the abbot at Tianqi Monastery. The well-to-do monk often brought rice and noodles over, and every time he came, Yu Zhan’ao’s mother sent the boy outside. Flames of anger raged inside him as sounds of revelry emerged from behind the closed door, and he could barely keep from torching the house. By the time he was sixteen, his mother was seeing the monk so frequently that the village was buzzing. A friend of his, Little Cheng the blacksmith, made him a short sword, with which he murdered the monk one drizzly spring night beside Pear Blossom Creek, named for the trees that lined it. They were in bloom on that wet night, blanketing the area with their delicate fragrance.
Granddad fled the village after the incident, taking odd jobs and finally getting hooked on gambling. Over time his skills improved, until the copper coins that passed through his hands stained his fingers green. Then, when Nine Dreams Cao, whose favourite pastime was nabbing gamblers, became magistrate of Gaomi County, he was arrested for gambling in a graveyard, given two hundred lashes with a shoe sole, forced to wear a pair of pants with one red leg and one black one, and sentenced to sweeping the streets of the county town for two months. When he’d completed his sentence he wandered into Northeast Gaomi Township, where he hired out to the service company. Upon learning that, after the death of the monk, his mother had hanged herself from the door frame, he went back one night to take a last look around. Some time later, the incident with my grandma occurred.
After walking outside, Yu Zhan’ao went into the sorghum field. He could see the dim lantern light in the tavern as he waited, following the progress of the new moon across the sky lit up with bright stars. Cool dew dripped from the sorghum stalks; cold air rose from the ground beneath him. Late that night he heard the tavern door creak open, flooding the night with lantern light. A fat figure hopped into the halo of light, looked around, then went back inside. Yu Zhan’ao could tell it was the dog butcher. After the man had gone back inside, the bandit Spotted Neck darted out of the door and was quickly swallowed up by shadows. The fat old man closed the door and blew out the lantern, leaving the tattered flag above his tavern to flutter in the starlight as though calling to lost spirits.
As the bandit walked down the road, Yu Zhan’ao held his breath and didn’t move a muscle. Spotted Neck chose a place right in front of him to take a piss; the foul odour hit Yu Zhan’ao full in the face. With his hand on his sword, he was thinking it would be so easy to put an end to this famous bandit chief. His muscles tensed. But then he had second thoughts. He had no grudge against Spotted Neck, who was a thorn in the side of County Magistrate Nine Dreams Cao, the man who had given Yu Zhan’ao two hundred lashes with a shoe sole. That was reason enough to spare Spotted Neck. But he was pleased to think I could have killed the famous bandit chief Spotted Neck if I’d wanted to.
Spotted Neck never learned of this brush with death, nor did he imagine that within two years he would die stark-naked in the Black Water River at the hands of this same young fellow. After relieving himself, he hitched up his pants and walked off.
Yu Zhan’ao jumped to his feet and walked into the sleeping village, stepping lightly so as not to awaken the dogs. When he reached the Shans’ gate, he held his breath as he familiarised himself with his surroundings. The Shan family lived in a row of twenty buildings, divided into two compounds by an interior wall and surrounded by an outer wall with two gates. The distillery was in the eastern compound, while the family lived in the western compound, in which there were three side rooms on the far edge. There were also three side rooms on the edge of the eastern compound, which served as bunkhouses for the distillery workers. In addition, a tent in the eastern compound accommodated a large millstone and the two big black mules that turned it. Finally, there were three connecting rooms at the southern edge of the eastern compound with a single door facing south. That was where the wine was sold.
Yu Zhan’ao couldn’t see over the wall, so he quickly scaled it, making scraping noises that woke the dogs on the other side, who began to bark loudly. After retreating about half the distance an arrow flies, he hunkered down in the square where the Shans dried their sorghum. He needed a plan. The pleasant aroma from a pile of sorghum husks and another of leaves caught his attention. Kneeling down beside the dry husks, he took out his stone and flint, and lit them. But no sooner had they ignited than he had another idea, and he smothered the flames with his hands. He walked over to the pile of leaves, some twenty paces distant, and set fire to it. Less compact than the husks, they would burn more quickly and be easier to extinguish. On that windless night, the Milky Way stretched across the sky, surrounded by thousands of twinkling stars; flames quickly leaped into the air, lighting up the village as though it were daytime.
‘Fire!’ he yelled at the top of his lungs. ‘Fire -’ Then he hid among the shadows of the western wall around the family compound. Tongues of flame licked the heavens, crackling loudly and setting the village dogs to barking. The distillery workers in the eastern compound, startled out of their sleep, began to shout. The gate banged open, and a dozen or so half-naked men came rushing out. The western gate also opened, and the wizened old man with the pitiful little queue stumbled out, screaming and wailing. Two big yellow dogs flew past him towards the raging fire
