THE CHIEFTAINS SAT AROUND chatting day in and day out.
One day the steward asked me what I wanted to do with all the chieftains I’d invited.
It wasn’t until then that I began to think about that. Had I really invited them over just so they could get together one last time with their friends and enemies before they died? If I said yes, no one would believe that such a kind person existed, even if that person was an idiot who sometimes did very smart things. But if I said no, then I couldn’t come up with the real purpose of inviting these people here, no matter how hard I tried.
Since I couldn’t find a purpose, I asked the people around me, but no two answers were the same.
Tharna smiled coldly, saying that all I wanted was to show off in front of the two women of the Rongong family.
That wasn’t the right answer.
I asked Adviser Huang, who responded with a question: “Do you know why I’ve fallen so low, Young Master? Like them, I believed I was clever. That was the cause of my downfall.”
My question had rekindled thoughts of his sad past, and he recited an elegant phrase: “One has a home but cannot go back. One belongs to a nation but cannot serve.” He had seen his own future. He said he could find no role to play, no matter which color won among the Han Chinese. This is exactly what he said: “There’ll be no role for me to play.”
He opposed the war between the Red and White Chinese, but it had occurred nonetheless. If the Whites won, well, he had once been a Red. But if the Reds won, he had no share in the glory, since he could not think of a single thing he’d done for them. I never expected Adviser Huang to be so distraught. I asked him which side Uncle was on when he was alive.
He said the White Chinese.
“Fine,” I said, “I like the White Chinese too.”
“That makes sense, but I’m afraid you’ll wind up on the wrong side.”
A chill ran down my spine as he spoke. I could not afford to shiver in front of everyone, not with the sun so bright overhead.
“Don’t be in a hurry to pick a color, Young Master,” the adviser said. “You’re still young. I’m old, so it doesn’t matter if I choose poorly. But your career has just started to take off.”
But I’d already made up mind. Since I’d liked my uncle so much, I would be on his side.
I then approached the historian, who was burying his head in his writing. After hearing my question, he looked up slowly. I could see what he meant to say in his eyes. He was a mystic, and I knew he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. Sure enough, his eyes said only: “Destiny cannot be explained.”
Sonam Tserang was unhappy that I hadn’t gone to ask him, so he sought me out.
“Don’t tell me the reason you brought these people here wasn’t to kill them.”
I said firmly, “No.”
“Do you really not plan to do that, Young Master?” My answer this time was the same, “no,” but I sounded somewhat hesitant.
If Sonam Tserang had insisted, I might well have ordered the chieftains killed. But he just snorted and said nothing. Instead he took his unhappiness out on his underlings. My tax collector was very hot-tempered. Since killing was always on his mind, he was envious of his best friend, Aryi, who had been born to kill. Sonam Tserang had once complained that Aryi was born to be an executioner, and said that it was unfair for anyone to be born to be one thing and not something else. Someone then asked him if it was also unfair that someone had been born to be the chieftain. That stopped him. The steward had even suggested that I have him killed, but I didn’t go along with it because I trusted his loyalty, which would be further demonstrated that day. Seeing the disappointment on his face, I was tempted to pick a chieftain for him to kill just to satisfy his urge.
After this minor interlude, I stopped asking myself why I’d invited the chieftains.
One day, I joined them while they were drinking. Everyone came up to toast me, except for Chieftains Maichi and Rongong. After two rounds, I began pouring and drinking on my own, without waiting for their toasts. Lha Shopa and Wangpo, who were closer to me than the others, tried to get me to stop, complaining that the host was getting drunk.
Father said, “Let him be. You can’t tell whether my son is drunk or sober anyway.”
He wanted to show everyone that he was the real host.
But that was only what he thought; the others didn’t agree, except for the female chieftain, who flashed him an approving smile.
In fact, Father and the female chieftain had already drunk too much. “His son is an idiot,” she said. “My daughter is a rare beauty, but he won’t go near her. Now, don’t you think that makes him an idiot?” Covering her face with her wine cup, she grabbed the young Chieftain Wangpo by the arm. “Let me marry my daughter to you.” Then, holding the young man’s arm tight, she asked him, “Have you ever seen my daughter?”
“Please let me go,” Wangpo said. “I’ve seen your daughter, and she is indeed a rare beauty.”
“Then why won’t you take her? You can marry her if you feel like it, or you can just show her a good time.” This she said in a wanton tone, keeping one eye on Wangpo and the other on Chieftain Maichi. “Everyone knows I like men. Well, so does my daughter.”
My new friend Wangpo said in a slightly altered tone of voice, “Please let me go. My friend will see you.”
I lay on the carpet with my head in a maidservant’s lap, gazing up at the sky. I knew that my new friend was about to betray me. But that caused me no pain; rather, I was afraid that things would stop then instead of moving forward. I wanted something to happen; something should happen when so many chieftains got together.
Chieftain Wangpo was breathing heavily and nervously.
“All right,” I said to myself, “betray me then, my new friend.”
It appeared that heaven was going to grant my wish; otherwise Tharna would not have picked that moment to begin singing on the veranda. Her loud, melodious voice floated between the white clouds and the blue sky. I wasn’t sure if she was singing to the crowd or to the open field, but I knew she wore an alluring expression. Her very existence was a temptation. A sage once said that a woman like that was either an abyss or a poison. That, of course, could hold true only for someone with the mind of a sage. I was an exception—I wasn’t afraid of betrayal. I wondered if someone would slip and fall into that abyss or stick his neck out to swallow the sweet poison. I stole a glance at Wangpo, whose face did indeed display the terror of someone who was falling into an abyss or faced with poison.
And now someone was leading him on—my mother-in-law.
“That girl you hear singing is my beautiful daughter,” she said, “but this idiot won’t stay in the same room with her or share her bed.”
I wanted to tell them that was because her spring had dried up, but I clamped my mouth shut.
“My God!” Wangpo muttered to himself. “Why would my friend do that?”
“Your friend? I don’t understand why a lofty chieftain like you has to treat him like a friend. He’s not a chieftain, he’s an idiot.” The female chieftain’s voice was still as alluring as a young woman’s. With that sort of allure, a voice has the power to sway, no matter what it says. In this case, even the words were tempting. “The title of Chieftain Rongong will go to her husband after I die. I lie awake every time I think about that idiot becoming Chieftain Rongong. Prolonged loss of sleep has caused me to age fast. My face is covered with wrinkles, and no man wants me anymore. But you’re still so young, like the early-morning sun.”
I wanted to hear what else they had to say, but I fell asleep under the balmy sky.
It was afternoon when I woke up.
The female chieftain snickered. “Aren’t we chieftains supposed to be your guests? Then why did you fall asleep?”
I wanted to apologize, but instead I said, “Why don’t you go back to your own land, where you can kill someone who falls asleep in front of you.”
“See how this idiot treats his own mother-in-law,” she said. “He doesn’t know how pretty his wife is, nor does he know that he should show respect to his mother-in-law.” In the same incendiary tone, she addressed the chieftains, “He wants me to go back, but I won’t. He invited me here. He invited us all. He must have something planned; otherwise, it borders on the criminal to ask us here, when we have vast lands and numerous subjects to manage.”
All the chieftains’ liquor-saturated heads rose at these words.
Chieftain Wangpo turned away, not daring to look at me.
It was Lha Shopa who said, “Me, I have nothing to do. And I don’t think the rest of you have either.”
They all laughed, saying that since he wasn’t qualified to be a chieftain, he should quickly hand over his position to someone more suitable.
Neither ashamed nor angry, Lha Shopa smiled and said he’d never had much to do from the day he became chieftain. “What’s there to worry our heads over?” he said. “The limits of our territory were set by our ancestors, and the crops are planted by the people, who then send their rent and taxes to the estates in the fall. That too was determined by previous chieftains. They set all the rules, which means that today’s chieftains have nothing to do.”
Someone objected, saying that Chieftain Maichi had found something to do when he grew poppies.
Lha Shopa shook his flabby head, and said, “Ah, opium, now that’s bad stuff.” He shook his head at me, and repeated, “I mean it, opium is bad stuff.” Then he turned to the female chieftain. “Opium caused us all to lose many good things.”
“I didn’t lose anything,” she said.
Lha Shopa laughed. “I lost land and you lost your daughter.”
“I married my daughter off.”
“Whatever you say,” Lha Shopa replied. “Everyone knows that for the female chieftain, beauty is the most lethal weapon.”
Rongong sighed, but didn’t reply.
So Chieftain Lha Shopa continued, “I followed your example and used my head once. In the end, many good subjects starved to death, and I lost a huge piece of land.”
“I’d like to know what you people want to do while you’re here,” I said. “Something other than relive the past.”
The chieftains asked me to leave them alone for a while so they could talk about what they wanted to do. Since I didn’t know what I wanted, I agreed to let them decide. “But be careful,” I said. “It seems to be getting easier and easier for the chieftains to make mistakes.”
With that I turned and went downstairs to take a walk around town with the historian, so I could tell him what had happened. I was of the opinion that it should be recorded.
He agreed, his eyes saying, “When the chieftains first appeared on this land, every one of their decisions was correct. Now whatever they decide is meaningless, if not totally wrong.”
I stayed away as long as possible. But the chieftains still hadn’t reached agreement. Some wanted to do something, while others wanted to do nothing. And those who wanted to do something could not agree on what that might be. Those who wanted to do nothing said, “Things are fine back home. This is where the action is. Let’s stay a while longer and have a good time.”
A glint of excitement showed in the peaceful, sincere eyes of Chieftain Wangpo; he had made up his mind to do something.
I sent the servants to fetch a performing troupe and build a stage.
Then I had tents erected on a grassy field, where I laid out machine guns, all sorts of rifles, and some pistols for anyone who cared to do some shooting.
But I still didn’t know why I’d invited the chieftains over.
I racked my brain for an answer; I thought and I thought but couldn’t come up with a thing. So I stopped worrying about it.
Meanwhile my beautiful wife was singing in that melodious voice of hers again.