The Red Pavilion

After Ma Joong had admired the display, he said to himself with a grin:

'Uncle Peng's soul won't be here! He didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but he was mighty fond of a round of gambling, in his day! Must have been lucky at it too, seeing that he left me two good, solid gold bars! I bet his soul is floating about over the gaming tables. I'd better go inside, maybe he'll give his young nephew a few useful tips!'

He entered the hall, paid ten coppers, and watched for a while the dense crowd round the large gaming table in the centre. Here the simplest and most popular game was in progress, one had to bet on the exact number of copper coins that the superintendent of the table covered under an upturned rice bowl. Then he elbowed his way to the staircase in the back.

In the large room upstairs the gamblers were seated in groups of six round a dozen or so smaller tables, engaged in various games with cards and dice. Here all the customers were well-dressed, at one table Ma Joong noticed two men wearing official caps. On the back wall hung a red signboard, inscribed in large black letters: 'Every game must be settled at once and in cash.'

While Ma Joong was debating with himself what table he should join, a small hunchback sidled up to him. He wore a neat blue dress but his large head with the tousled grey hair was bare. Looking up at Ma Joong's towering figure with his beady eyes, he said in a shrill voice:

'If you want a game, you'll have to show me how much cash you carry.'

'What has that got to do with you?' Ma Joong asked angrily.

'Everything!' a deep voice spoke up behind him.

Ma Joong turned round and found himself face to face with an enormous man, as tall as himself but with a chest as round as a barrel. His large head seemed to grow directly from his broad shoulders and his breast was bulging like the shell of a crab. He gave Ma Joong a searching look from his round, slightly protruding eyes.

'Who might you be?' Ma Joong asked, astonished.

'I am the Crab,' the large man explained in a tired voice. 'My colleague here is called the Shrimp. At your service.'

'Haven't you also got a fellow called Salt?' Ma Joong asked.

'No. Why?'

'So that I can mash you all three together in boiling water and have myself a meal,' Ma Joong replied contemptuously.

'Tickle me, will you?' the Crab asked the hunchback sadly. 'I am supposed to laugh at customers' jokes.'

The Shrimp ignored him. Looking up at Ma Joong along his thin, pointed nose, he asked sharply:

'Can't you read? The signboard over there says that customers have to settle in cash. To prevent disappointment on the part of all concerned, newcomers have to show us how much they can afford to stake.'

'That's not unreasonable,' Ma Joong agreed reluctantly. 'You two belong to this establishment?'

'Me and the Shrimp are observers,' the Crab said quietly. 'Employed by Mr Feng Dai, the warden.'

Ma Joong regarded the incongruous pair with a speculative eye. Then he reached down and pulled his official pass from his boot. Handing it to the Crab, he said:

'I work for Magistrate Dee of Poo-yang, who is now the Assessor in charge here. I'd like to have a quiet talk with you.'

The pair scrutinized the pass. The Crab gave it back to Ma Joong, saying with a sigh:

'That means a parched throat. Let's sit out on the balcony, Mr Ma, and have a drink and a snack. On the house.'

The three men sat down in a corner from where the Crab could keep an eye on the gamblers inside. Soon a waiter placed a large platter heaped with fried rice and three pewter wine-jugs on their table.

During the exchange of the usual polite inquiries it turned out that the Crab and the Shrimp had lived all their lives on Paradise Island. The Crab was a boxer of the eighth grade; soon he and Ma Joong were deep in a discussion on the merits of various blows and grips. The small hunchback did not take part in this technical conversation, he concentrated on the rice, which disappeared with amazing speed. When there was nothing left on the platter, Ma Joong took a long draught from his wine beaker, leaned back in his chair and said contentedly, patting his belly:

'Now that the preliminary work has been successfully completed, I feel strong enough for tackling official business. What do you fellows know about the Academician Lee?'

The Crab exchanged a quick look with the Shrimp. The latter said:

'So that's what your boss is after, eh? Well, to give you the gist, the Academician began and ended his stay here badly, but in between he had lots of fun, I understand.'

The sounds of an altercation came from the room. The Crab was up and inside with a speed amazing in so ponderous a man. The Shrimp emptied his wine cup and resumed:

'This is how it was. Ten days ago, on the eighteenth, the Academician and five friends arrive here, in a large boat, from the capital. They had spent two days on the river, and every day they had been drinking and feasting from morning till night. The boatmen had dutifully taken care of the left-overs, so all were drunk. There's a thick mist, their boat rams a junk belonging to our boss Feng, carrying his daughter. She was coming back from a visit to relatives in the village upstream, There's considerable damage, they don't reach the landing stage here till dawn, and the Academician has to promise to pay a round sum, in settlement of the damage. That's what I meant when I said that his stay on the island began badly, you see. Then he and his friends go to the Hostel of Eternal Bliss, the Academician rents for himself the Red Pavilion.'

'That's the selfsame place my boss is staying in!' Ma Joong exclaimed. 'But he isn't afraid of ghosts. I suppose the Academician committed suicide right there?'

'I didn't mention suicides, neither did I mention ghosts,' the hunchback said pointedly.

The Crab, who was re-joining them, had heard the last remark.

'We don't talk gladly about ghosts,' he said, sitting down again. 'And the Academician didn't commit suicide.'

'Why? ' Ma Joong asked, astonished.

'Because,' the Shrimp resumed, 'as an observer, I observed him. Here, at the gaming table. Remained cool as a cucumber, winning or losing. Not the suicide type. That's why.'

'We have been observing people here for ten years, you know,' the Crab added. 'Know all the types, every single one of them. Take that young poet, Mr Kia Yu-po. Lost all his money here, every last copper, in one sitting. The high-strung, excitable type. Might commit suicide as soon as you have turned your head. As to the Academician, no sir. No suicide for him. Never.'

'He became involved with a woman, though,' Ma Joong remarked. 'Women often make a man behave like a fool. When I think of the things they made me do, sometimes . . .'

'He didn't commit suicide,' the Crab repeated stolidly. 'He was a cold, calculating bastard. If a wench jilted him, he would try to play her a dirty trick. Not kill himself.'

'The alternative is murder!' Ma Joong said dryly.

The Crab looked shocked. He asked the Shrimp:

'I didn't mention the word murder, did I?'

'You didn't!' the hunchback replied firmly.

Ma Joong shrugged.

'Who was the wench he slept with?' he asked.

'He saw much of our Queen Flower during the week he stayed here,' the Shrimp replied, 'but he also saw much of Carnation, of the next street, and of Jade Flower, and of Peony. He may have had with them what you law-officers call carnal relations, then again he may have only tickled them a bit, playful-like. Ask the girls, not me. I wasn't there to hold then-legs.'

'Might be an interesting line of inquiry!' Ma Joong said with a grin. 'In any case, they had a good time, tickling or otherwise. Then what happened?'