“Let me guess,” Li Kao said. “She bankrupted you in a week?”
Miser Shen drew himself up proudly.
“Great Buddha, no! Why, such was the extent of my wealth that it took the dear girl almost a month to reduce me to abject poverty. Of course I owe a good deal to luck,” he added modestly. “After Lotus Cloud ran through my countless chests of buried gold I was able to get very good prices for my eight businesses, my six houses, my carriage, my sedan chair, my horse, my three cows, my ten pigs, my twenty chickens, my eight savage guard dogs, my seven half-starved servants, my—Dear boy, do you happen to remember my young and beautiful concubine?”
“Vividly,” I said.
“I was very lucky there, because I was able to buy three more days of Lotus Cloud by selling Pretty Ping to an up-and-coming young fellow in the brothel business. Lucky for Pretty Ping too, because one of her customers fell in love with her and made her his number-three wife, and now he showers her with the gifts and affection that she never received from me. Poor girl, I treated her terribly.” Miser Shen sighed. “But then I was not truly human, because I had not yet met Lotus Cloud.”
“I am finding this fascinating,” said Master Li. “What did you do when you had nothing left to sell?”
“Why, I turned to crime, of course,” said Miser Shen. “I am particularly proud of my performance during the Dragon Boat Festival. It occurred to me that the boats originally raced to sacrifice to the spirit of Ch'u Yuan, who drowned himself as a protest against corrupt government, but that the festival has degenerated into little more than a professional boat race upon which vast sums are wagered. Well, there was the betting boat with the bookmakers and other dignitaries on board, and there came the dragon boats skimming across the water, and there I came, walking upon the surface. I was on stilts, of course, and I wore an exact copy of the ancient ceremonial costume of Ch'u Yuan, and I had a long staff and a big black beard.
“ ‘Insolent dogs!’ I roared. ‘You dare to turn the occasion of my honorable death into a sporting event? I shall smite you with pestilence, typhoons, and earthquakes!’
“It was very effective because I had covered my head with protective ointment and my false beard with pitch, and at that moment I set fire to the beard,” said Miser Shen. “When Ch'u Yuan came striding across the waves with a halo of flames around his head, the people on the betting boat dived into the water and swam for their lives, and I cut the anchor rope and climbed on board and sailed away with all the money. I spent every cent on pearls and jade, but the soldiers caught me before I could give it to Lotus Cloud, so here I am.”
Li Kao turned and stared at me.
“This happy, vibrant fellow with an admirable talent for crime is Miser Shen?” he said incredulously. “Ox, this transformation is nothing short of miraculous!”
He turned back to Miser Shen and bowed.
“We must dispense with titles,” he said. “My surname is Li and my personal name is Kao, and there is a slight flaw in my character, and this is my esteemed client, Number Ten Ox. We have something important to do, so we must escape from this tower as soon as possible, and we would be honored if you would care to accompany us.”
Miser Shen wiped tears from his eyes. “It has been forty years since anyone wanted me to accompany them anywhere,” he sniffled. “Unfortunately there is no way to escape from this tower.”
“Something will turn up,” Master Li said confidently.
He was right, although when it turned up he was as astonished as I was. There was a loud commotion at the gates and a mob burst into the courtyard and demanded to see the governor. The governor stepped out, along with our porcupine merchant, and the mob parted to reveal a furious farmer, a cow, and two gentlemen of low appearance. A babble of voices drifted up to us, and we were able to piece together the following account:
The farmer had heard a commotion in his pasture and he had rushed out to discover that a bald gentleman was down on his knees with his arms wrapped lovingly around the legs of one of the farmer's prize cows. A fat gentleman, who was carrying a small funeral urn, was weeping his eyes out, and he turned and wept on the farmer's shoulder for a while. Then he recovered enough to relate a marvelous tale.
The bald fellow's beloved mother had expired some time ago, and her son had honored her rather unusual request to be cremated. One night the ghost of his mother came to see him in a dream, and she expressed the wish to have her ashes placed among the lohans at Lung-men. So the bald fellow and his dear friend had set forth with the ashes on the pious pilgrimage, only to discover that the ghost had something else in mind. The road to Lung-men passed by the farmer's pasture, and the cow had been waiting for them. The bald fellow had recognized the soft brown eyes immediately.
“Mother!” he screeched. “My beloved mother has been reborn as a cow!”
The reunion had been emotional, and the farmer was forced to shed a few tears himself as he watched it. The cow's eyes were streaming with tears of joy as she lovingly licked the bald fellow's skull. “Mother! What joy to see you again!” he sobbed, kissing her hairy legs.
What choice did the farmer have? He felt the warm glow of a deed well done as he watched his cow dwindle in the distance with the arms of the two gentlemen wrapped around its neck. He was only a gentleman farmer, and he was quite surprised when he was informed that cows always weep when they lick salt.
“And that includes salt that has been sprinkled upon a bald skull!” the farmer yelled.
“How dare you accuse us of fraud?” screamed Pawnbroker Fang.
“We shall sue!” howled Ma the Grub.
When the farmer took off in pursuit he was joined by neighbors who had also experienced the wiles of Ma and Fang, and now they wanted the governor to hang these crooks from the highest tree.
“Lies, all lies!” screamed Pawnbroker Fang.
“We demand compensation for slander!” howled Ma the Grub.
“Ox, you know these creatures well. What will they do now?” asked Master Li.
“They will go on the offense,” I said firmly. “I don't know how, but they'll manage it.”
“Splendid. Gentlemen, let's get out of here.”
There was a huge silk flag with the duke's tiger emblem fluttering from a pole on top of the tower, and the soldiers were too interested in Ma and Fang and the lynch mob to notice when I cut it loose and hauled it down. From the wreckage of an old bamboo pigeon coop we made a basket to stand in, and the lanyard from the pole attached the basket to the flag.
“The principle is the same as that of a falling leaf, which drifts down gently because the air that pushes up against its surface almost counterbalances the weight that pushes it down,” Master Li explained. “This flag may just be large enough to hold enough air, although I would be happier if the tower were another hundred feet high.”
We tiptoed back to the other side of the tower to see how Ma and Fang were coming along. Bees were droning beside the wall, and Ma the Grub was surprised to see a trail of honey. His fingers slid slyly toward the stuff. Our porcupine merchant had brought out a plate of sweetmeats, and he was automatically lifting them to his gaping mouth as he listened to the members of the mob bellow one accusation after another. Ma the Grub craftily covered the ashes in the funeral urn with honey. He slid the urn beneath the merchant's fat fingers, and the hand lifted again and again to the insatiable maw….
“Monster!” Ma shrieked in horror. “Fang, look what these fiends are doing! First they try to steal the incarnation of your beloved mother, and now they devour her very ashes!”