The Republic of Wine

Nights? he said when he finally stopped laughing. ‘Here in Liquorland, we have a famous culinary dish of extraordinary imagination and creativity. Members of the Central Government have tried it, so have you. Therefore, if we’re cannibalistic beasts, then you are too.’

With a sneer, Ding Gou’er said, ‘If you have a clear conscience, why find it necessary to lure me into a sex- trap?’

‘Only Higher-Procuratorate scum like you have the perverse imagination to come up with a thought like that!’ Diamond Jin replied angrily. ‘Now I’d like to report to your honor on behalf of our city’s Party Committee and municipal government: We welcome Investigator Ding Gou’er of the Higher Procuratorate to our city. We are prepared to offer every assistance.’

‘You could easily block my investigation, you know,’ Ding Gou’er said.

Diamond Jin patted his pocket. ‘What we have here, to be precise, is two willing fornicators. But even though your behavior has been despicable, you have broken no laws. And even though I have the power to send you crawling back to where you came from, like a lowly dog, individual interests must be subordinated to public interests, so I will not stop you from carrying out your mission.’

Diamond Jin opened his liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of Maotai, unscrewed the cap, and poured two tau glasses, emptying the bottle. He offered one to Ding Gou’er and raised the other in a toast: ‘Here’s to a successful investigation!’ he said, clinking glasses with Ding Gou’er. He tossed his head back, and drank the liquor in one gulp. Holding up the now empty glass, he stared at Ding Gou’er, cheek twitching, eyes shining.

The sight of that twitching cheek muscle enraged Ding Gou’er, who held out his glass and, come hell or high water, drank every last drop.

‘Good for you!’ Diamond Jin shouted approvingly. ‘Now you’re acting like a real man!’ Returning to the liquor cabinet, he removed an armful of liquor bottles, all name brands. ‘Now let’s see who’s the better man,’ he said, pointing to the bottles, which he deftly opened and began pouring from. Splashes of liquor turned the air aromatic. ‘Anyone who doesn’t drink is the son of a whore!’ With his cheek twitching uncontrollably by now, Diamond Jin abandoned his sophisticated veneer in favor of a hardened, alcoholic look. ‘Are you up to it?’ he challenged, throwing his head back and emptying his glass. On and on the cheek twitched. ‘Some people would rather be known as the son of a whore than drink a little liquor!’

‘Who said I won’t drink?’ Ding Gou’er picked up his glass. Glug-glug – he drained it. A skylight opened up in his scalp and his consciousness was transformed into a demonic butterfly the size of a moon- shaped fan; it began to dance in the lamplight. ‘Drink… fuck your mothers, all of them, drink every drop of Liquorland’s…’ He saw his hand grow to the size of a prayer mat and sprout a mass of fingers that reached out to the liquor bottles, which shrank to the size of carpentry nails, embroidery needles, then suddenly swelled to the size of large goblets, metal buckets, mallets. The lamplight changed, the butterfly tumbled in the air. Only the twitching cheek muscle stayed true to form. Drink! Liquor lubricates like honey. His tongue and gullet felt unimaginably good, better than words can describe. Drink! He sucked it up as fast as he could, then watched the clear liquid slip soothingly down his brown, twisting gullet. His feelings soared, following the contours of the wall.

Diamond Jin moved slowly in the lamplight, then took off abruptly, a virtual comet. The expression on his face cut a swath through the golden aura of the room like a razor-sharp saber, opening up a patchwork of seams in which he moved freely, slipping and sliding, until, just as abruptly, he vanished.

The multi-hued butterfly looked worn out, its wings getting heavier and heavier, as if weighted down by morning dew. Finally it settled on one of the chandelier arms, its antennae trembling tragically as it watched its skeleton crash heavily to the floor.

II

Dear Mo Yan, Sir

I’m concerned that I haven’t heard from you for a long time. Is it because I went overboard regarding my achievements in my last letter, and all that wild talk upset you? If so, then your disciple is caught up in fear and trepidation, shivering in his boots, afraid even to sweat, guilty of crimes deserving a thousand deaths. ‘A true gentleman forgives the trifles of a petty man, and the broad mind of an able minister can accommodate a ferry boat.’ Please don’t find fault with a child like me. I don’t want to lose your affection under any circumstance. From now on I’ll heed your every word, and will never again argue with you.

If you really believe that the dish Dragon and Phoenix Lucky Together has bourgeois liberalization tendencies, I’ll delete it from my story ‘Donkey Avenue,’ and that’s that. I can also look up Proprietor Yu of Yichi Tavern and ask him to remove the dish from his menu. A few days ago, when I mentioned you to him, his eyes lit up. He asked me, Is he the one who wrote Red Sorghum?' I said, ‘Yes, that’s him, my mentor.’ He said, ‘That mentor of yours is a true scoundrel who’s always as good as his word, and I think highly of him,’ I said, ‘Who do you think you are, calling my mentor a scoundrel?’ But he said, ‘From me that’s a compliment. At a time when sanctimonious hypocrites are everywhere, a “true scoundrel who’s as good as his word” is rare as gold.’ Sir, we cannot use ordinary logic on extraordinary people. This Mr Yichi is a true eccentric, a real mystery. Please don’t take offense just because he talks like a guttersnipe.

I told him I’d asked you to help me with his biography, and he was delighted. He said that only Mo Yan is qualified to write his life story. When I asked him why, he said, ‘Because Mo Yan and I are jackals from the same lair.’ To which I argued, ‘Mo Yan is one of the great young writers of his age. How can a dwarf like you be mentioned in the same breath?’ With a sneer, he said, ‘Calling him a jackal from the same lair is high praise from me. Do you know how many people would love to be considered a jackal from the same lair as me, but aren’t?’

Sir, I hope you won’t sink to his level. In these times, when everything’s all topsy-turvy, even the city’s ‘number one Liquorland beauty,’ the hostess of our local TV show, went to bed with him. That, as you can see, takes real skill. He has money, but lacks fame; you have fame, but no money. A perfect match. Sir, you don’t have to pretend to be above worldly matters, just do a little business with him. He said that if you’re willing to write his life story, he’ll make it worth your while. I urge you to accept the assignment, both to earn a pile of People’s Currency and to change your image of poverty and backwardness. Besides, Yu Yichi is a truly uncommon individual, and that has to pique your interest. Here’s an ugly freak not much more than a foot tall who has vowed to f- every beauty in Liquorland, and has damned near f-ed them all. Now that’s a mystery that has to get you thinking. With your literary genius and powerful writing style, The Life of Yu Yichi is bound to be a classic. He said that if you’re willing to come to Liquorland to write his life story, he’ll supply you with everything you need: You’ll stay in Liquorland’s finest hotel, drink Liquorland’s finest liquor, dine on our finest cuisine, smoke name-brand cigarettes, sip famous tea. He even said – on the QT, understand -that if there are other pleasures you seek, he’ll do whatever is necessary to make you happy. Sir, if you’re concerned that the interviews will be too taxing, I’ll be happy to do them for you. You won’t find a better offer than this if you walk around with a lantern. So please don’t hesitate another minute.

Sir, in order to further stir up your enthusiasm and convince you that Yu Yichi is your typical, lovable hooligan, I’ve written a story in the form of a chronicle, called ‘Yichi the Hero.’ I’d like your opinion of it. If you decide to come to Liquorland to write the biography, there’s no need to give the story to anyone else. You’ll be doing me a great favor, and I have nothing with which to repay your kindness. So we’ll just count this story as a modest token of my esteem for you.

Wishing you

Good writing,

Your disciple

Li Yidou

III

Dear Elder Brother Yidou