II
Dear Mo Yan
Your letter and the express special delivery package with my manuscript arrived. You really didn’t have to spend all that money – first-class registered mail would have been fine. A few extra days wouldn’t have made any difference to me, since I am now writing a story I call ‘Liquor Fairy,’ and any changes to ‘Swallows’ Nests’ will have to wait.
You got so emotional over my ‘Swallows’ Nests,’ even returning to your childhood, when you ate a boiled horse’s hoof, that even if it never finds its way into print, it has already justified its existence – without it, would you ever have written me such a long letter?
As you wrote in your letter, the nutritional value of swallows’ nests has been greatly exaggerated, and I think the best you can say about it is it’s a bird secretion high in protein. It has no magical properties, for if it did, the few people who eat the things, as many as four or five a day, would surely have found the secret of immortality by now. I’ve eaten it once, just the way I wrote in my story. When you come to Liquorland, I’ll arrange for you to sample some. The actual eating isn’t as important as the experience, of course.
I’ll try to control my passion better. Given the current state of affairs, no one can stem the raging tide, and when you think about what society has come to, everyone shares the blame. My job has made it easy for me to sample the finest wines and liquors in the world, most of which are nearly as expensive as swallow’s nest. Common folk have probably never seen, let alone tasted, wines like Gevrey-Chambertin and de la Romanee-Conti from France, or Lay and Doktor from Germany, or the Italian Barbaresco or Lacryma Christi. They’re true treasures, every one of them, unquestioned wines of the gods, pure ambrosia. Please come, and make it soon. I may not be able to boast of much, but it won’t be difficult to see that you drink only the best while you’re here. Better that you and I drink the stuff than those corrupt, greedy officials.
There’s so much I want to tell you, but since you’ll be in Liquorland soon, I’ll save it till we can talk face to face. After we toast each other, we can talk to our hearts’ content.
I’m enclosing my latest story, ‘Ape Liquor,’ and await your criticisms. I was going to make it longer, but I’ve been so tired the past few days, I decided to wrap it up where it was. You don’t need to mail it back after you’ve read it. Just bring it along when you come to Liquorland. I’m going to take a day off, then start another story. After that I’ll make changes to ‘Swallows’ Nests.’
Wishing you the best,
Your disciple
Li Yidou
III
Ape Liquor, by Li Yidou
Ape Liquor is Yuan’s Liquor. Who was its distiller? My father-in-law, Yuan Shuangyu, a professor at the Brewer’s College in Liquor-land. If Liquorland is a glossy pearl in the heart of our glorious motherland, then the Brewer’s College is the pearl of Liquorland, and my father-in-law the pearl of the Brewer’s College – the most lustrous, the most brilliant. It has been the grand opportunity of a lifetime to become the elderly gentleman’s student and then his son-in-law. So many people envy and covet my good fortune. When I was giving this story a title, I pondered for the longest time, unable to decide whether I should call it ‘Ape Liquor’ or ‘Yuan’s Liquor.’ I finally decided to call it ‘Ape Liquor,’ for the time being, even though it might smack somewhat of Fauvism. My father-in-law is an erudite man who possesses an upright character. In his search for Ape Liquor, he was willing to live among the apes on White Ape Mountain, eating the wind and sleeping in the dew, combed by breezes and bathed by the rain, until success was his at last.
In order for my teetotaling readers to gain an understanding of my father-in-law’s erudition, I shall have to copy out a large portion of the handouts he gave us for a class he taught on The Origins of Liquor.
At the time I was a young, know-nothing student; entering the sacred temple of liquor from a poor peasant family, I knew next to nothing about alcoholic spirits. When my father-in-law walked grandly up to the podium, carrying a cane and dressed in a white suit, I was of the opinion that liquor was just spiced-up water. What could this old fellow say about it that was worthwhile? Standing at the podium, he began to laugh before saying a word. Amid his laughter, he took a small flask out of his pocket, removed the stopper, and took a drink from it. Then he smacked his lips and asked, Students, what am I drinking? Someone said, Tap water, someone else said, Boiled water, another said, Clear liquid, and yet another said, Liquor. I knew it was liquor -1 could smell it – but I muttered, Urine. Good! My father-in-law said, slapping the podium with his hand. Whoever said liquor, please stand up. A girl with braided hair rose from her seat. Blushing bright red, she took a look at my father-in-law, then lowered her head and played with the tips of her braids – a common habit among girls with braids, something they learned from the movies. My father-in-law asked, How did you know it was liquor? In an almost imperceptible voice, she said, I could smell it… Why is your sense of smell so keen? my father-in-law asked. The girl’s blush deepened, her face seemed to be burning up. Well? Why? my father-in-law asked. In an even lower voice, she said, 'I… I've had a keen sense of smell these past few days…' My father-in-law slapped his forehead, as if suddenly enlightened, and said, OK, I get it. You can sit down. What did he ‘get’? Do you know? I didn’t, not until much later, when he told me that girls have a particularly keen sense of smell during their periods, and also a more active imagination. That’s why so many important discoveries in human history have been so closely linked with the female menstrual cycle. Now, the student who said urine, please stand up, my father-in-law said gravely. I felt a sudden buzzing in my ears, and saw stars flying in front of my eyes, as if I’d been clubbed. I hadn’t realized an old fart like that could have such good hearing. Stand up. Don’t be shy! he said. My embarrassment attracted the attention of the entire class, including the girl with braids, who was having her period – her name was Jin Manli, a typical name for a female secret agent. I’ll discuss what happened between the two of us in another story. Later on she became one of my father-in-law’s graduate students – Damn, this mouth of mine, which is fouler smelling than dogshit, has got me into trouble again. Li Yidou, Li Yidou, what did your parents say before you left home? Didn’t they tell you to speak less and listen more? You and that mouth of yours, even a medicinal plaster couldn’t keep it shut. Like a gorged woodpecker that dies stuck in a tree, its beak is its undoing -1 stood up in total embarrassment, not daring to raise my head. What’s your name? Li Yidou. No wonder you have such a vivid imagination; you’re the Liquor God Reincarnate. The class broke up laughing. He stilled the laughter with his hands, took a drink of the liquor, smacked his lips, and said, Sit down, Li Yidou. Frankly speaking, I like you very much. You’re different from the others.
I sat down in total confusion, while watching my father-in-law recap his flask, shake it vigorously, and hold it up to the light to enjoy the sight of the bubbles inside. He said in a lilting voice, Dear students, this is a sacred solution, an indispensable liquid in human life. At present, in a time of reforms and liberalization, its functions increase daily. It is no exaggeration to say that without liquor the revitalization of Liquorland would just be empty talk. Liquor is sunshine, it is air, it is blood. Liquor is music, painting, ballet, poetry. A distiller of liquor is a master of many skills. I hope that a master distiller will emerge from among you to gain glory for our country with a gold medal from the World’s Fair in Barcelona. A while ago I heard someone scorn our profession by saying that it had no future. Students, I can tell you that one day, even if the earth is destroyed, the molecular essence of liquor will still be flying around the universe.
Amid rousing applause, my father-in-law raised his flask high, with a solemn, even divine expression on his face, like that look on a hero’s face we so often see in the movies. I was ashamed over having blasphemed such a significant liquid by calling it urine, even though it all becomes urine sooner or later.
The origin of this celestial liquid is still a riddle today, my father-in-law said. Several thousand years of liquor have converged to form the Yellow River and the Yangtze River, but we cannot locate its source. We can only speculate. In their spectrum analysis of the universe, Chinese astronomers have discovered vast quantities of alcohol molecules in outer space. Recently an American astronaut detected the strong aroma of alcohol inside her spacecraft, which brought waves of euphoric sensation, as if she were slightly drunk. I ask you, where did these alcohol molecules come from? Where did the scent detected by the astronaut come from? Another planet? Or might it have been dissipated remnants from right here in Liquorland? Students, spread the wings of your imagination!
