CHAPTER 60

Two scoundrels accuse each other; Ji Gong teaches strange table manners

WHEN the magistrate looked at the two suspects, Zhang Fu and Li Lu, he said, “You two men, what are your family and personal names and what are you called?”

The first one replied, “This small person is named Zhang Fu, and he is called the High-Flying Buzzard.”

The other answered, “This small person’s name is Li Lu, and he is called the Street Rat.”

“Which of you two men killed the ragged monk?” asked the magistrate.

“It was Zhang Fu who killed the monk,” said Li Lu. “I was trying to stop him.”

“It was Li Lu who killed that monk!” protested Zhang Fu.

“Who actually killed him? You two scoundrels!” exclaimed the magistrate.

“If Your Honor doesn’t believe me, look at the blood on Zhang Fu’s hand,” pointed out Li Lu. “There is no blood on my hand.”

The magistrate at once ordered an officer to make an examination. Of course, there was blood on Zhang Fu’s hand. “Zhang Fu, it is very clear that you killed the monk. Do you still deny it?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” replied Zhang Fu. “I killed the monk—but outside the north gate at the entrance to the Gao family money changers, the murder of Liu Er Hun was committed by Li Lu.” As soon as the magistrate heard this, he suddenly remembered something.

Now, strangely enough, when the monk had insulted these two men at the table, he talked about their each having a woman who was his partner in crime. To begin with, Zhang Fu and Li Lu were riffraff who pretended to be more respectable than they actually were. They would loiter around together sometimes, but each of them usually acted separately. One of them would find a younger man who came from a well-to-do family, but who spent his time idling around town away from his home. The older man would then gradually make friends with him, treating him to meals and drinks, lending him small amounts of money, and finally bringing him to his house and making him feel like a member of the family. After a while the wealthy young man would be supporting Zhang Fu or Li Lu and buying expensive presents for the woman who was his partner. Zhang Fu or Li Lu would encourage the younger man’s every weakness and let him drink himself to death or ruin himself gambling. When his money was gone, Zhang Fu or Li Lu would turn him out and find another victim. The two were not seen as breaking any law, but their conduct was low and despicable.

Li Lu, however, had finally come upon a spoiled young man named Liu Er Hun who had been given a few hundred ounces of silver by his family and told not to return. After Li Lu and his female partner had helped Liu Er Hun to use up his silver, they tried to turn Liu Er Hun out, but he refused to go, saying, “I spent my money with you—now you can take care of me. I have nowhere to go. You can’t send me away. I will simply eat and drink with you.”

In his heart Li Lu had come to hate Liu Er Hun. He mentioned his feeling to his friend Zhang Fu while the two were having a pot of wine in a restaurant. “Brother Zhang, look at this fellow Liu Er Hun. He’s drinking and eating me out of my own house. I can’t get rid of him. It’s really hateful! I’m thinking about taking him out and getting him drunk and then killing him. Could you help me with this matter? Afterward, sometime I could do you a favor in return.”

“Well, let’s do it,” said Zhang. The two planned what to do. The next day they took Liu Er Hun out drinking. Li Lu was secretly carrying a long knife. The two friends kept handing the young man drinks until he lost control and no longer knew what was happening. When he was thoroughly drunk, Zhang Fu and Li Lu led him out of the wine shop.

At the second watch that night, they led the drunken Liu Er Hun to the gate of the Gao family money changers. Li Lu had been holding a grudge against this money-changing shop for a long time because he felt he had once been shortchanged there. He thought that it would be good revenge to leave a dead body there, particularly one that was mysteriously headless. Zhang Fu told the story in detail from beginning to end, and finished by saying, “But it was Li Lu who ended the man’s life with one slash of his knife.”

Once the magistrate understood what had occurred, he turned to Li Lu and asked, “Just how did you kill Liu Er Hun?”

Hesitantly, half swallowing his words, Li Lu recited the details. “But it was Zhang Fu’s idea,” he maintained throughout his recital. “He helped me kill him.”

“You two miserable scoundrels!” the magistrate said to them. Then he called to his men and ordered, “Take these two away and keep them in custody. We will now perform an examination of the body of Liu the monk.”

Just as he was about to give the order to the attendants who would make the examination of the corpse, the magistrate suddenly thought about the note that Ji Gong had folded up and given to him. “The monk told me that, when I returned from outside the east gate, after my sedan chair was put down at the crossroads, I should read it,” the magistrate thought to himself. “I think that now I should look at the monk’s writing.”

When the magistrate unfolded the paper, he read these words:

Today this poor monk must die.

Your Honor should first hold an examination of my body.

Order your underlings to look at the wound.

Do not put my body in the grave.

The magistrate secretly bowed his head. “Undoubtedly,” he thought, “Ji Gong had second sight and could foretell the future.” He told his attendants not to remove the monk’s clothing or greatly disturb the body, but simply to examine at the wound.

When the attendants thoroughly understood his order, they responded, “Yes, Your Honor.” Then they looked and reported: “There is a wound between two and three inches long that caused death. There was a great loss of blood.”

The magistrate nodded his head and ordered the death certificate prepared. He then told his men to procure a new roll of matting with which to wrap the body and called the local official as a witness. He repeated his order that Zhang Fu and Li Lu be kept in custody.

The local official then had the body covered with the matting. Outside, he saw the watchman running toward him and asked what was the matter.

“The dead man just smiled at me!” exclaimed the watchman.

“Nonsense!” retorted the local official. “After someone is dead, he can’t smile. There must be something wrong with your eyes. I will look myself.”

The official went to look. Just as he lifted a corner of the matting, the monk rolled over. Then he sat up, touched his head with his hand, and said, “Ah, ha!’” He stood up and ran away to the south, with the official chasing after him shouting, “Hey, stop the corpse!”

Hearing that a dead man was walking, who wouldn’t run the other way? The people all feared that if they were touched by a dead man they would die.

The monk went straight to the south gate, passed through it, and then turned east. Just as he came to the corner of the city wall and turned north, he saw a man walking in front of him. The man was quite short. He wore a matching cap and jacket of dark brown with gold markings. As Ji Gong passed him, he noticed that the man’s face had an evil appearance and that he had dark, thick hair growing from his ears. Ji Gong thought, “If I am to solve the other two murder cases, this is the man I must deal with.” Then he started talking aloud to himself. “This place is not like other places. If a person wanted to get something to eat, he would be wise to observe where others go.”

At the same time, a thought formed itself in the other man’s brain. “I must follow him and do whatever he does.”

They went on northward to the cluster of buildings outside the east gate. There, the monk entered a wine shop on the north side of the street. The short man followed him. Ji Gong found a chair, sat down, and stamped with one foot as he called out, “Come, you rascal. Bring a pot of wine.”

The short man thought to himself, “This must be the local custom. If I want anything, I had better do the same as he does, so he also stamped and called out, “Come, you rascal. Bring me a pot of wine.”

The waiter thought it amusing. He did not dare speak to the short man, but he did say to the monk, “Teacher, do not shout out ‘you rascal’ like that.”

The monk said, “Well, I guess I was wrong, but do bring the wine, and if you have any of those pancakes filled with meat and vegetables, bring me one of those, too.”

“Strange,” thought the waiter, “we call them stuffed biscuits.” And he started back to the kitchen.

Just then the short man called him and said, “I will have one of those filled pancakes with my wine, too.”

The pancakes or biscuits, each about two and a half inches across and three-quarters of an inch thick, arrived on a saucer just a little larger than necessary. They were fried to a rich, dark golden brown, and the combined odor of pork, green vegetables, and seasoning was tantalizing. When Ji Gong received his stuffed pancake, he said, “There’s only one way to eat these things.” He thrust a single chopstick through the round of flat filled bread and bit off half at one bite. The juices from the filling ran down his chin in a way that was unpleasant to see. The short man watched and copied the monk’s actions.

The monk ordered more pancakes until he had eaten ten. The short man followed suit. Each of them then had ten saucers on his table. Ji Gong carefully stacked the saucers and stood up. He picked up the saucers and held the stack in his right hand, low and almost level with his knees. He was facing the short man, looking him straight in the eye. The short man was doing the same thing. Suddenly the monk threw the saucers, striking the man in the face and covering him not only with the juices that had run out of the filling, but also the soy sauce and vinegar that Ji Gong had added to the saucers while eating. Before the other man had a chance to throw his stack of saucers, the monk ran out of the restaurant. The short man chased after him, clutching the saucers and hoping to get close enough to the monk to throw them effectively.