The Republic of Wine

his face. A long silence was finally broken by his muttered comment, ‘Him again.’

‘Him who?’ Ding Gou’er asked anxiously.

‘An expert, a shadowy cat burglar.’ Diamond Jin rapped the bent middle finger of his left hand on the symbols carved into the wall. ‘This is the mark he always leaves after one of his capers.’

Ding Gou’er walked up to get a better look at the carvings. When he did, occupational instincts quickly brought his fuzzy thoughts into focus, and he was feeling pretty good about himself again. Fresh fluids flowed from his aching eyes, his hawklike vision returned in a flash. The four +s had been carved in a straight line, about a third of the way into the wall, the plastic wallpaper curling outward on the edges to reveal the plaster behind it.

Turning to study the expression on Diamond Jin’s face, he discovered that the man’s handsome eyes were fixed on him, as if he were under scrutiny, as if he had run into a cunning adversary, as if he had fallen into an enemy’s trap. But the friendliness that exuded from Diamond Jin’s handsome, smiling eyes chipped away at the wariness in the investigator’s mind. ‘Comrade Ding Gou’er,’ he said in the intoxicating voice of fine liquor, ‘you’re the expert in this area. What do these four tens mean to you?’

The words wouldn’t come, for the butterfly of consciousness that had been washed out of his head by alcohol hadn’t yet returned in all its gracefulness. And so he could only stare in terror at Diamond Jin’s mouth and the light glinting off his gold or bronze tooth.

‘I think,’ Diamond Jin said, ‘that it’s a gang symbol, a gang with forty members, or four times ten, in other words, forty thieves, which means an Ali Baba could show up at any time. Maybe you, Comrade Ding Gou’er, will assume the role of Ali Baba without knowing it. That would be a blessing to the two million citizens of Liquorland.’ He saluted Ding Gou’er with his hands clasped in front, making Ding feel more awkward than ever.

Ding Gou’er said, ‘My papers, my wallet, my cigarettes, lighter, electric shaver, toy pistol, and telephone book were all stolen by those forty thieves.’

‘How dare they touch a single hair on the head of the mighty Jupiter!’ Diamond Jin said with a raucous laugh.

‘Lucky for me they didn’t take my real pal here!’ Ding Gou’er said as he flashed his pistol.

‘Old Ding, I've come to say good-bye. I was going to ask you to join me in a farewell drink, but in consideration of how wrapped up in your official duties you are, I won’t disturb you. Come see me at the Municipal Party Committee office if there’s anything I can do for you.’ Diamond Jin stuck out his hand.

Still in a daze, Ding Gou’er took the other man’s hand and, still in a daze, released it; then, still in a daze, he watched Diamond Jin vanish from the room under the escort of the Party Secretary and Mine Director. A dry heave came charging up from his stomach, creating shooting pains in his chest on the way. His hangover hung on. The situation was anything but clear. After sticking his head under the faucet and running cold water over it for a good ten minutes, he drank the glass of cold tea. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, settling his diaphragm and clearing his mind of all selfish ideas and personal considerations; then his eyes snapped open, and his thoughts were acute and focused again, like an ax sharpened to a razor’s edge, ready to hack away at the vines and grasses covering his eyes and clouding his vision; a new thought came to him at that moment, as if splashed brightly on the picture screen of his mind: Liquorland is home to a gang of cannibalistic monsters, and everything that happened at the banquet was part of an elaborate hoax!

After drying his head and face, putting on his shoes and socks, and fastening his belt, he put away his pistol, clapped his hat on his head, wrapped his blue checked shirt around his shoulders -the one the scaly youngster had tossed onto the carpet, where it had soaked up his vomit – and strode boldly to the door; jerking open the dark- brown door, he strode down the corridor in search of an elevator or flight of stairs. A friendly, cream-colored attendant at the service desk told him how to find his way out of the maze.

Outside he was greeted by mixed weather conditions: rolling rain clouds in a sun-splashed sky. It was past noon already, and gigantic cloud-shadows skittered across the ground, as golden sunlight shimmered on yellow leaves. Ding Gou’er’s nose began to itch, and seven sneezes followed in rapid succession; he was bent over like a dried shrimp, tears welled up in his eyes. After straightening up, through the misty veil covering his eyes, he saw the enormous black drum atop the dark red windlass at the entrance to the mine, which was still pulling silver gray cable up and down. Everything was just as it had been when he entered: golden sunflowers covered the ground; stacks of lumber gave off a delicate fragrance, spreading the aura of a primeval forest. A rail car carrying lumps of coal shuttled back and forth on narrow tracks between towering mounds of coal. The car was equipped with a small motor attached to a long rubber-wrapped cord. It was manned by a coal-black girl with rows of white teeth that sparkled like pearls. She stood on a ledge at the rear of the car, her bearing proud and majestic as a warrior in full combat readiness. Each time the car reached the end of the line, she slammed on the brake to bring it to a halt, then tipped it to send glistening coal over the side like a waterfall with a loud whoosh What appeared to be the old wolfhound from the gate house came bounding toward Ding Gou’er and barked frantically for a moment, as if pouring out its deep hatred for him.

The dog ran off, leaving Ding Gou’er standing there in disappointment. If I thought things out objectively, he was thinking, I’d have to say f m a pretty sorry case. Where did I come from? I came from the county seat. What did I come to do? Investigate a major case. On a tiny speck of dust somewhere in the vast universe, amid a vast sea of people stands an investigator named Ding Gou’er; his mind is a welter of confusion, he lacks the desire for self-improvement, his morale is low, he is disheartened and lonely, and he has lost sight of his goal. Bereft of that, with nothing to gain and nothing to lose, he headed toward the noisy vehicles at the coal-loading area.

Without coincidence there can be no novel – a crisp shout rent the air: Ding Gou’er! Ding Gou’er! You son of a gun, what are you doing hanging around here?

Ding Gou’er turned to see where the shouts were coming from. A shock of black, bristly hair greeted his eyes, and beneath that a lively, animated face.

She was standing next to her truck holding a pair of grimy white gloves, looking like a little donkey in the bright sunlight. ‘Get over here, you son of a gun!’ She waved her gloves in the air as if they were a magic soul-snatching wand, drawing the investigator toward her, drawing Ding Gou’er, who was mired in a ‘depression syndrome,’ inexorably toward her.

‘So, it’s you, Miss Alkaline!’ Ding Gou’er said, like a common hooligan. As he stood there facing her, he experienced the uplifting feeling of a ship that has finally reached port or of a child when it sees its mother.

‘Mr Fertilizer!’ she said with a wide grin. ‘You’re still here, I see, you son of a gun!’

‘I was just thinking of leaving.’

‘Want to hitch another ride in my truck?’

‘Sure.’

‘Well, it’s not that easy.’

‘A carton of Marlboros.’

‘Two cartons.’

‘Okay, two cartons.’

‘Wait here.’

The truck in front drove off with a spurt of black smoke, its tires sending a shower of coal dust into the air. ‘Stand aside,’ she shouted as she jumped into the cab, grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it this way and that until she stopped directly beneath the spot where the trolley tracks ended. ‘Hey, girl, you’re really something!’ sang out a young man in dark shades in heartfelt praise. ‘You can’t make a cow big with a genital blow, you can’t push a train and make it go, you can’t build Mount Tai with just rocks and some snow.’ She hopped out of the cab. Ding Gou’er was grinning from ear to ear. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she demanded.

The trolley rumbled and began to float forward like a big black turtle. From time to time, sparks flew as iron wheels scraped along the iron tracks. The black rubber cord coiled and stretched in the trolley’s wake, lively as a snake. Steely determination filled the eyes of the girl on the back of the trolley and her jaw was set, instilling in the observer a sense of respect bordering on fear. The trolley rushed headlong, like a wild tiger coming down the mountain. Ding Gou’er was afraid it would crash into the truck and turn it into a pile of twisted metal. But events proved his fears groundless, for the girl’s powers of assessment were infallible, her reactions lightning quick, her mental functions as unerring as a computer. At the very last second, she threw on the brakes, tipping the loaded trolley over and, with a whoosh, sending shiny black coal cascading into the bed of the truck – no spillage, none left behind in the trolley. With the smell of coal rising to fill his nostrils, Ding Gou’er’s mood lightened even more.

‘Got a smoke, pal?’ He reached his hand out to Miss Alkaline. ‘How about bestowing one on me?’