'We bought her cheap, one and a half gold bars. But she is a popular girl, and a good singer too. We gave her expensive dresses, the bills are all here. They add up to . . .' He groped for his abacus.
'Cut the cackle! You spent a good deal of money on her, and she brought in fifty times more than that, so I'll pay you the original price, and cash too.'
He took the package with the two gold bars he had inherited from his uncle Peng from his bosom, removed the wrappers and laid them on the desk.
The fat man stared at the two shining bars, slowly rubbing his double chin. He sadly reflected that he couldn't afford to antagonize an officer of the tribunal, the big boss Feng wouldn't like that. It was a great pity though, this rascal seemed eager enough. If he had been an outsider, he would doubtless have been willing to pay double the amount, and a generous tip. This was one of those unlucky days, his heartburn was worse too. He belched, then, with a deep sigh, detached a sheaf of sealed receipts from the register and handed them to Ma Joong. Then he laboriously counted out the change, twenty silver pieces. He lingered fondly over the last one.
'Wrap them up nicely—all of them!' the tall man ordered.
The clerk gave him a pained look. Slowly he wrapped up the silver in a piece of red paper.
Ma Joong put the package and the papers in his sleeve, and went out.
He thought he had made the right decision. There came a time when a man had to settle down, and what woman could one settle down with better than with a wench from one's own village? He could easily raise a family on the salary Judge Dee paid him, that was better than spending it all on wine and stray girls, as had been his wont. The only snag was that his colleagues Chiao Tai and Tao Gan would tease him no end. 'Well, let them! When those rascals had seen his girl, they would shut up quickly enough!'
While he was rounding the corner of the street of the Hostel of Eternal Bliss, he saw the inviting red shop-sign of a wine house. He decided to offer himself a drink.
But when he had pulled the door-curtain aside, he saw that the noisy taproom was packed already with happy drinkers. There was only one empty place left, at the table in front of the window, where a melancholy-looking young man was sitting, staring moodily at an empty wine jug.
Ma Joong pushed his way among the tables and asked:
'Do you mind if I sit down here, Mr Kia?'
The youngster's face lit up.
'With pleasure!' Then his face fell again as he added: 'Sorry I can't offer you anything, my last coppers went with this last jug. Old Feng hasn't coughed up his promised loan yet.'
He spoke with a thick tongue. Ma Joong thought that the last jug must have been the last one of an impressive row. He said jovially:
'Share a jug with me!' He called a waiter and ordered a large jug. He paid for it, and filled their beakers.
'Here's to our luck!' He emptied his beaker in one long draught, and hastily refilled it. The poet followed his example, then said morosely:
'Thank you! I most certainly need luck!'
'You? Holy Heaven, man, you, the future son-in-law of Feng? Marrying the only daughter of the gambling boss—if that isn't the niftiest trick I have ever heard of for getting back your money from the tables!'
'That's just it! That's precisely why I need luck, baskets full of it, so as to get out of my troubles. And it's that swine Wen who landed me in this awful mess!'
'I still don't get what your troubles could be. But Wen is a son of a dog. I am with you there!'
Kia gave him a long look from his watery eyes. Then he said:
'Since the Academician is dead and gone, and the plan off, there's no harm in telling you, I suppose. Well, to cut a long story short, when I lost my money at that crooked table, that stuck-up Academician was sitting opposite me. Sanctimonious bastard said I played a reckless game! Afterwards he accosted me and asked whether I would like to get my money back, by earning it. I said, of course, yes, even if I would have to earn it. Then he took me to Wen's shop. They were concocting together some plot or other, against Feng Dai. Wen would get Feng into trouble, then Lee would use his influence in the capital to have Feng replaced by Wen as warden of this island. Lee wouldn't get any poorer by that, of course. That's high officials for you! Lee and Wen said they wanted me to worm myself into Feng's confidence, and act as their spy in Feng's mansion. I would have to conceal a small box in Feng's house, and that was all.'
'The dirty crooks! And you said yes, you fool?' 'No need to call me names, my man ! Would you like to be marooned here on this island without a copper in your sleeve? Besides, I didn't know Feng, supposed he was as big a crook as the others, of course. And don't interrupt me, it's hard enough to keep to the thread of my sad narrative. By the way, didn't I hear you mention the word sharing in connection with this jug?' Ma Joong poured him out another beaker. The young poet drank greedily, and went on: 'All right, Lee said that I must go to see Feng and ask him for a loan, to be repaid after I had passed my examinations. It seems that Feng has a weak spot for young, talented poets in distress.
'So far so good. But when I went to see Feng I found him a decent, pleasant fellow. Agreed to let me have a loan, too. And he seemed to like me, for the next day he asked me for dinner, and again the next day. I met his daughter, a charming girl, and also Tao Pan-te, an excellent fellow. Fine judge of poetry too. Had read mine and said it had a touch of the antique elegance.'
Kia refilled his beaker, took a long draught and went on: 'After that second dinner I went to Wen, told him I refused to spy on Feng because I had found him a gentleman, and that, as a gentleman, I didn't spy on gentlemen. I added that, for precisely that reason, I wouldn't mind spying on him, on Lee, and all their friends. I may have added one or two things more, too. Well, Wen shouted that I wouldn't have got one copper from them anyway, because Lee had reconsidered and the whole plan was off. That suited me. I borrowed a silver piece from my landlord on the strength of Feng's promised loan, and betook myself to the centres of gaiety and frivolous pleasure. There I met a little girl, the loveliest and nicest I ever came across. The girl I had been waiting for all my young life.'
'Does she also make poetry?' Ma Joong asked suspiciously.
'Thank Heaven, no! Nice, simple, understanding girl! The restful kind, if you know what I mean. Stable. Heaven preserve me from literary girls!' He hiccoughed, then added: 'Literary girls are high-strung, and I am sufficiently high-strung myself. No sir, all the poetry that'll be done in my household shall be done by me. Exclusively!'
'Why are you sulking then?' Ma Joong shouted, 'August Heaven, some fellows have all the luck! You'll marry the Feng wench, and take the other girl, the restful one I mean, as concubine.'
Kia sat up in his chair. With an effort he focussed his eyes on his companion and said loftily:
'Feng Dai is a gentleman, and Miss Feng is not a wench but a well-educated, serious girl, although she is a bit high-strung. Feng likes me, she likes me, and I like them. Do you think I am such a cad as to accept Feng's only daughter and his money, then, as my modest contribution to the festivities, buy myself a courtesan and put her in the house?'
'I know lots of fellows who'd jump at the chance!' Ma Joong said wistfully. 'Including me myself!'
'I am glad I am not you!' Kia remarked nastily.
'Vice-versa!'
'Vice-versa?' the poet repeated slowly, creasing his forehead in a deep frown. Pointing with a crooked forefinger alternately at Ma Joong and himself he muttered: 'You . . . I . . . you ... I.' Then he suddenly shouted: 'You are insulting me, sir!'