My wife caught up with me. She was giggling as if she’d completely forgotten that she’d tried to cut her own throat only moments before. She said:
‘Hey, Doctor, do you know who that old woman was?’
I said I didn’t.
‘She’s the mother-in-law of Section Chief Hu of the Municipal Party Organization Department.’
I snorted.
‘What are you snorting about?’ she said. ‘Stop looking down on people, and considering yourself to be the smartest person in the world. I want you to know that I’m going to be the head of the newspaper’s Culture and Life section.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said, ‘new Chief of the Culture and Life section. I hope you’ll write an article describing your personal experience in throwing a tantrum.’
She stopped, shocked by my comment. 7 threw a tantrum? I’m as good as any woman who ever lived. If anyone else knew her husband was playing hanky-panky with her own mother, she’d have already poked a hole in the sky!’
I said, ‘Let’s hurry up and go ask your father and mother to settle this.’
‘I’m such a fool,’ she said, standing there as if she’d just awakened from a dream. ‘Why should I go with you? Why should I go to see you and that old flirt make eyes at each other? The two of you may be shameless, but not me. There are as many men in this world as there are hairs on a cow’s hide, so why should I give a damn about you? You can sleep with whomever you want. I don’t care any more.’
She turned and walked away nonchalantly. An autumn wind shook the treetops, sending golden leaves floating silently to the ground. My wife was walking among the poetry of autumn, her dark back making an uncanny connection with the notion of delicacy. Surprisingly, her nonchalance provoked a slight sense of loss in me. My wife’s name was Beauty Yuan. Beauty Yuan and the falling leaves of autumn formed a melancholic lyrical poem, producing a bouquet like the General Lei liquor from Yantai’s Zhangyu Distillery. I stared at her, but she didn’t turn around, a case of pursuing justice without looking back.’ In truth, I may have been hoping she would look back, but the chief-to-be of the Culture and Life section of the Liquorland Daily News never did. She was going off to her new position. Chief Beauty Yuan. Chief Yuan. Chief.
The chief’s back disappeared among the red-walled, white-tiled buildings of Seafood Alley, from which a cluster of spotted doves fluttered into the blue sky, where three large yellow balloons floated, dragging bright red ribbons embroidered with big white letters. A man stood there in a daze. It was me, Doctor of Liquor Studies, Li Yidou. Li Yidou, you’re not going to jump into the roiling, liquor-laced Liquan River, are you? No, why should I? My nerves were as tough as a cowhide that’s been tanned with caustic soda and Glauber’s salt, neither to be worn down nor torn to shreds. Li Yidou, Li Yidou, striding forward with his head held high, his chest thrown out, in an instant he had walked into the Brewer’s College and was standing in front of his mother-in-law’s door.
I really needed to get to the bottom of things. Maybe I’d have a fling with my mother-in-law – which, in fact, she might not be. It would be an ocean-draining upheaval in my personal life, no doubt about that. A note was posted on the door:
‘This morning’s cooking lesson will be held in the lab at the Gourmet Section.’
I had long heard that my mother-in-law, with her superior cooking skills, was the shining star of the Culinary Academy, but I’d never seen her in class. Li Yidou decided to attend his mother-in-law’s class, to witness his mother-in-law’s awe-inspiring stature.
I walked through the small rear gate of the Brewer’s College and entered the campus of the Culinary Academy. The fragrance of liquor still lingered, the aroma of meat now permeated the air. In the courtyard, many strange and exotic flowers and trees, with their eyelike leaves, squinted at me, Doctor of Liquor Studies, an ignoramus where plants are concerned. A dozen or so campus cops in blue uniforms moved about lazily in the yard, but when they saw me, their spirits were invigorated, like hounds spotting their quarry. Their ears, like thin pancakes, stood straight up, heavy snorts escaped from their nostrils. But I wasn’t afraid of them, for I knew they’d return to their lazy former selves as soon as I spoke my mother-in-law’s name. The structure of the campus was very intricate, similar to Suzhou’s Rustic Statesman Garden. A gigantic rock the color of pig’s liver stood in the middle of the path for no obvious reason, with an inscription in yellow that read, ‘Graceful Rock Points to the Sky.’ After receiving permission from the campus cops, I strolled around until I found the Gourmet Section, then walked past row after row of iron railings, passing the exquisite building for raising meat boys, passing artificial hills and a fountain, passing the training room for exotic birds and strange animals, and finally entering a dark cave that led to a luminous spot. It was a restricted area. A young lady handed me some work clothes. She said, ‘Your people are videotaping the associate professor,’ mistaking me for a reporter from the local TV station. As I was putting on the cone-shaped hat, I detected the fresh smell of soap. Just then, the woman recognized me. ‘Your wife, Beauty Yuan, and I were high-school classmates. Back then my grades were much better than hers, but now she’s a famous reporter, while I’m a lowly doorkeeper,’ she said, dejectedly, looking at me with resentment in her eyes, as if I were the one who had cut short her promising future. I nodded apologetically, but her sad face immediately turned proud. ‘I have two sons,’ she boasted, ‘both smart as whips.’ I replied viciously, ‘Don’t you plan to send them to the Gourmet Section?’ Her face turned purple, and since the last thing I wanted was to look at another purple-faced woman, I headed over toward the lab. I could hear her grind her teeth as she cursed, ‘One of these days, someone will give you cannibalistic beasts exactly what you deserve.’
The doorkeeper’s comment sent shock waves through my heart. Who were those cannibalistic beasts? Was I one of them? I thought back to what the Liquorland dignitaries had said when the famous dish was being served: What we’re eating is not human, but a gourmet dish prepared with special techniques. The creator of this gourmet dish was my beautiful mother-in-law, who was now lecturing to her students in a spacious, well-lit lecture hall. She was standing at the podium, framed by bright lamplight. I could see her large, round, moonlike face, which was as smooth and brilliant as a china vase.
Reporters were indeed videotaping her lecture. One of them, surnamed Qian, a fellow with a pointy mouth and monkey cheeks, was director of the special newspaper column. I’d drunk at the same table as him once. With a video camera on his shoulder, he was sauntering back and forth in the lecture hall. His assistant, a short, pale, fat fellow carrying lights and dragging black cords, followed Qian’s orders to aim the white-hot lights, sometimes on my mother-in-law’s face, sometimes on the chopping board in front of her, and sometimes on the students who were concentrating on her lecture. I found a vacant seat and sat down, feeling the tender, loving rays from her big grayish-brown eyes stop on my face for a couple of seconds. Slightly embarrassed, I lowered my head.