Later that night, Chen woke from a dream, threw aside the blankets, and sat up on the edge of the bed. His wife murmured something into her pillow, then fell silent. Fumbling in the dark, the assistant magistrate pulled on his slippers and stepped into the courtyard.
“Yo ya me voy,” he muttered, scratching himself awake.
Somebody—maybe a drunkard, maybe a night watchman, most likely both—urinated noisily against the outer wall. From the dark fishpond, a frog belted out his low refrain: mi, mi, mi, mi. Pausing under the sky-well, Chen bowed wearily to the Milky Way.
[Silver River in Mandarin—trans.]
[The Crane’s Way in Erzya—trans.]
[The Way with the Shadow in Bengali—trans.]
[Winter Street in Swedish—trans.]
[The Road to Santiago in Catalan—trans.]
[The Straw Road in Turkish—trans.]
[The Straw Thief in Kurdish—trans.]
[The Slave Road in Romanian—trans.]
[Calm, or Unhurried, in Sanskrit—trans.]
Chen pulled closed the door to the study softly behind him. By the glow of a lit wick, he retrieved the underworld scroll from his writing desk. Yawning, he settled down to begin.
In the district of Hóu-tcheou-fou, the magistrate’s assistant Chen was taking a nap in his study …
In this manner, Chen worked through the night. He wanted to finish the beginning by daybreak. The dead kept him company, as did the unborn. Now and then, he looked out the window, to see if the stars were still there.