The Republic of Wine (21 page)

Walk slowly, enjoy the sights. Donkey Avenue is a mile long, with butcher shops on both sides. There are ninety restaurants and inns, and all of them use the carcasses of donkeys in their fare. The menus are always changing, as new dishes vie for attention. The epitome of donkey gourmandism is reached in this place. Anyone who has sampled the fare of all ninety establishments need never again eat donkey. And only those people who have eaten their way up one side of the street and down the other can thump their chests proudly and announce: I have eaten donkey!

Donkey Avenue is like a big dictionary, filled with so much that even if my mouth were hard enough to drive nails through metal, I could never exhaust, finish, reach the end of the subject. If I don't tell my story well, it is because I babble nonsense or garbage. Please forgive and bear with me, please allow me to down a glass of Red-Maned Stallion to pull myself together. For hundreds of years, countless numbers of donkeys have been slaughtered here on Donkey Avenue. You can just about say that swarms of donkey ghosts roam Donkey Avenue day and night, or that every stone on Donkey Avenue is soaked in the blood of donkeys, or that every plant on Donkey Avenue is watered with donkey spirits, or that donkey souls flourish in every toilet on Donkey Avenue, or that anyone who has been to Donkey Avenue is more or less endowed with donkey qualities. My friends, donkey affairs are like smoke that shrouds the sky of Donkey Avenue and weakens the radiance of the sun. If we close our eyes we see hordes of donkeys of all shapes and shades running around and braying to the heavens.

According to local legend, late at night, when it is really quiet, when all is still, an extremely nimble, extremely handsome little black donkey (sex unknown) races from one end of the flagstoned avenue to the other, from east to west, then from west to east. Its handsome, delicate hooves, shaped like wine glasses carved out of black agate, pound the smooth flagstones, filling the air with a crisp, clear tattoo. This late-night sound is like music from Heaven, terrifying, mysterious, and tender all at the same time. Anyone hearing it is moved to tears, entranced, intoxicated, given to long, emotional sighs. And if there is a full moon …

That night, Yu Yichi, proprietor and manager of Yichi Tavern, his drumlike belly warmed by a few extra glasses of strong liquor, carried a bamboo chair outside to cool off under an old pomegranate tree. Waves of moonlight turned the flagstones into shiny mirrors. A chill breeze on that mid-autumn night sent the other people back into their houses, and if not for the effects of the alcohol, Yu Yichi would not have come outside either. Streets on which people had swarmed like ants were now transformed into scenes of tranquillity, invaded only by insect chirps, like razor-sharp darts that could pierce brass walls and iron barriers. The cool breeze blew across Yu's protruding belly, bringing him a sense of bliss. Gazing up at sweet pomegranates, big and small, and shaped like flower petals, he was about to fall asleep when suddenly he felt his scalp tighten and goose bumps erupt all over his body. His sleepiness disappeared in a flash and his body froze in paralysis - as if a kung-fii master had punched him in the solar plexus; of course, his mind remained clear and his eyes took in everything. A black donkey appeared on the street as if it had fallen from Heaven. It was a pudgy little animal whose body emitted light, as if it were made of wax. It rolled around on the street a time or two, then stood up and shook its body, as if trying to rid itself of non-existent dust. Then it jumped into the air, its tail raised, and started to run. It galloped from the eastern end of the street to the western end, and back, three round trips in all, so fast it was like a puff of black smoke. The crisp sound of its hooves drowned out the chirping of autumn insects. When it stopped and stood still in the middle of the street, the chirping recommenced. That is when Yu Yichi heard the barking of dogs in the dog market, the lowing of calves on Oxen Street, the bleating of lambs in Sheep Alley, the whinnying of ponies in Horse Lane, and the screeches of chickens from far and near:
gaawk
-
gaawk
-
gaawk
. The donkey stood waiting in the middle of the street, its black eyes glowing like lanterns. Yu Yichi had heard stories about this little black donkey, but seeing it now with his own eyes shocked him nearly out of his skin, as he realized that legends are not simply made up out of thin air. Holding his breath and making himself as small as possible, he looked like a dead log, except for his staring eyes, as he waited to see how the story of this little black donkey would unfold.

Hours passed, until Yu Yichi's eyes were sore and weary, but the little donkey stood stock-still in the middle of the street, like a statue. Then, without warning, all the dogs in Liquorland erupted in a frenzy of barking - off in the distance, of course - snapping Yu Yichi out of his trancelike state, just in time for him to hear approaching footsteps on roof tiles and to see, almost immediately after that, a dark figure floating down over the street from a nearby rooftop; it settled onto the waiting back of the black donkey, which sprang to life and galloped off like the wind. Now, as a dwarf, Yu Yichi had not been given a chance to attend school, but as someone born into an educated family - his father had been a professor, his grandfather an imperial licentiate, and in generations past there were scholars who had passed the imperial examinations and were members of the Hanlin Academy - he had committed thousands of Chinese characters to memory and had read widely and eclectically. The scene he had just witnessed reminded him of a Tang dynasty tale about a shadowy knight-errant; from there his thoughts turned more philosophical: Even with the rapid developments in science, there exist countless phenomena that defy explanation. He tested his body: In spite of lingering stiffness here and there, he could still move. He felt his belly - it was wet, the effects of a cold sweat. Back when the dark figure was floating earthward, aided by the light of the moon, Yu Yichi had perceived that it was a young man, quite small in stature, his body covered in scaly skin that glinted in the moonlight. He held a willow-leaf dagger in his teeth, and had a bundle strapped to his back…

Dear readers, I can almost hear you grumbling: Why don't you stop running off at the mouth and take us to a tavern somewhere instead of having us circle Donkey Avenue over and over! Your grumblings are excellent, right on target, hit the nail right on the head. So let's pick up the pace, step lively; forgive me if I don't point out all the shops here on Donkey Avenue, even though there's a story behind them all, and even though each one of them has its unique calling. I'll shut up, no matter how much it pains me to do so. And so, let us ignore all those donkeys staring at us from both sides of the street and set our sights on our objectives. There are two types of objectives: major and minor. Our major objective is to march toward communism, where the ruling ideology is ‘from each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.' But if we march toward the end of Donkey Avenue, to an old pomegranate tree, we will reach our minor objective: the Yichi Tavern. Why, you ask, is it called Yichi Tavern? Listen up, and I'll tell you.

The tavern's proprietor, Yu Yichi (Twelve-inch Yu), is actually seventeen inches tall; like all dwarfs, he has never revealed his age to anyone, and trying to guess it would be folly. Within the memory of Donkey Avenue, this agreeable, amiable little dwarf has not changed his appearance or attitude in decades. He always returns looks of shock and amazement with sweet smiles. They are such charming, disarming smiles they tug at your heart and spawn feelings of sympathy you never knew you had. Yu Yichi makes a good living almost exclusively on the charm of these smiles. Coming from an intellectual family, he is very learned, with an array of knowledge on which he draws to entertain people on Donkey Avenue with his witty remarks. How unthinkably lonely and boring Donkey Avenue would be without Yu Yichi, who could actually lead a life of leisure with his natural talent alone. But being ambitious, he refused to settle for handouts, and took advantage of the winds of reform and liberalization to apply for a business license. He then produced a wad of money he'd been saving since who knew when and hired someone to remodel his old house for Yichi Tavern, which has become famous all over Liquorland. Yu Yichi's many ingenious ideas may well have been inspired by the classical novel
Flowers in the Mirror
, or could have originated in a book called
Overseas Wonders
. After the tavern opened, he placed a want ad in the
Liquorland Daily News
, looking for attendants who were under three feet tall. The ad, a highly publicized event at the time, initiated heated debates. Some people believed that a dwarf running a tavern was an insult to the socialist system and a smear on the bright five-star red flag. Following the increase of tourists in Liquorland, Yichi Tavern could easily become our city's greatest shame, one that would bring humiliation to the great Chinese nation. Others argued that the existence of a dwarf was a universal, objective phenomenon. But dwarfs in other countries relied on panhandling to survive, while ours supported themselves through their own labor, which is not a shame but a sign of glory. Yichi Tavern could help make our international friends understand the unsurpassable superiority of our socialist system. While the two sides were engaged in heated, unending debates, Yu Yichi tunneled his way into the City Hall compound through its sewers (the guards were too intimidating for him to enter through the main gate). Then he sneaked into City Hall, and into the office of the Mayor, with whom he had a long conversation, the contents of which must remain unknown to us. The Mayor sent him back to Donkey Avenue in her own luxurious Crown limo, after which the debates in the newspaper died down. My friends, ladies and gentlemen, we have reached Yichi Tavern, our objective. The drinks are on me today. Old Mr Yu is a friend of mine; we often get together to drink and to recite poetry. We have composed strange yet beautiful music for this colorful, dazzling world we live in. As a true brother who values friendship more than money, he will give us a twenty percent discount.

My honored friends, we are now standing outside Yichi Tavern. Please glance up at the gilded characters on the black signboard, each bursting with energy, like spirited dragons and lively tigers. This is the work of Liu Banping - Half-Bottle Liu - a famous calligrapher whose name tells of a true master who can't write without drinking half a bottle of good, strong liquor. Two pocket-sized waitresses, less than two feet tall, stand beside the door, one on each side, embroidered sashes across their chests and smiles on their faces. They are twins, who, after reading Yu Yichi's ad in the
Liquorland Daily News
, flew here from Shanghai on a Trident jet. They were born into a high-ranking cadre family, with a father so famous you'd be dazzled if I told you. So I won't. They could have counted on their father's power and position to live a life of leisure, wearing fancy clothes and eating delicacies. But they refused to do so, choosing instead to join the hustle and bustle here in Liquorland. The arrival of this pair of fairies came as such a surprise that the city's ranking Party members made a special trip in the pouring rain to greet them at Peach Spring Airport, some forty-five miles out of town. Accompanying the two fairies on their trip was their mother, that is, the wife of their heroic sire, plus a retinue of secretaries. It took the airport guest house two frantic weeks to prepare for the reception. But, my friends, please don't think that Liquorland did not get its money's worth, for that would be the near-sighted view, a mouse's vision of the world. Even though Liquorland went to considerable expense to welcome the fairies and their mother, our city has now established connections with the high-ranking official, who, merely by picking up his pen and drawing a few check marks, can bring us plenty of business and plenty of income. Do you know what we received when he casually wielded his pen on a visit last year? A low-interest loan of a hundred million, during a period of financial storms and tight credit. Imagine that, my friends, a hundred million, which we put to use promoting our Ape Liquor, building a magnificent China Brewery Museum, and organizing a celebration for the First International Ape Liquor Festival in October. If not for these two fairies, do you think he'd have stayed in Liquorland three whole days? So, my friends, it's no exaggeration to credit Mr Yu Yichi as a hero of Liquorland. I hear that the Municipal Party Committee is gathering material for permission to honor him as a model worker with a Labor Day decoration.

The two fairies of noble blood bow to us and smile radiantly. They have lovely faces and well-proportioned figures; except for being small, they are virtually flawless. We return their smiles out of respect for their noble birth. Welcome, welcome. Thank you, thank you.

Yichi Tavern, also known as Dwarf Tavern, is luxuriously appointed. When you step on the five-inch-thick wool carpet, your feet sink softly up to the ankles. Scrolls by famous painters and calligraphers hang on walls covered with birch panels from the Changbai mountains. Palm-sized goldfish swim lazily in an enormous aquarium. Pots of rare flowers bloom like a raging fire. In the middle of the room stands a lifelike little black donkey, which, upon closer observation, turns out to be a sculpture. Naturally it was only after the arrival of the two fairies that Yichi Tavern reached this level of popularity and prosperity. The leaders of Liquorland are not fools, and would never allow the darling daughters of a high-ranking dignitary to work in a shabby tavern run by some private entrepreneur. You know how things are these days, so I needn't waste time recounting the dramatic changes in Yichi Tavern over the past year. But you'll forgive me if I backtrack for a moment. Liquorland authorities built a small villa near Water Park in the downtown area for the two fairies before their mother returned to Shanghai. Each was also provided with a tiny Fiat. Did you happen to notice the Fiats parked beneath the old pomegranate tree as we came through the gate?