by Xiaolong Qiu
‘We will all be greatly honored if we can be of help in any way,’ Hou said, rising with Chen reverentially.
Chen then moved into the library. It appeared to be fairly small, but cozy, convenient, with the clear classifications and open shelves. Looking around, he turned to move down from the top shelf a set of thread-bound volumes of Annotated Tang Dynasty Law, a rare reprint during the Republican period, with a label saying ‘Read in library only’. He put the set on a table near the entrance, where he was pleasantly surprised at the sight of an English book, True Crimes in Eighteenth-Century China: Twenty Case Histories, written by a contemporary sinologist named Robert Hegel. Ironically, he sometimes found reading the English translations of law studies easier than the original in classical Chinese. Was it because there were no exact words or phrases for these judicial concepts in the Chinese language? For this English book, he thought he could order it from Amazon. The new office had a large budget, which came with its status.
He talked to someone like a librarian sitting in a corner, who gave him permission to copy pages from the Annotated Tang Dynasty Law. He started doing the job there gingerly, page by page, as the time-yellowed paper appeared to be so fragile. It was then that Director Hou came bursting into the library.
‘You don’t have to do it yourself, Director Chen. I’ll have someone copy whatever you want.’ Hou must have dug out the newspaper with Chen’s office statement in it. ‘You really have made an excellent point about the inadmissibility of the evidence in Judge Jiao’s case. In this global age, we’ll have to learn those good points from the West too. It’s a pity that some of our net mobs totally ignored that.’
‘Yes, that’s a technicality issue. A lot we can surely learn, not only from the West, but also from China’s history.’
It was a politically correct comment, also demonstrative of his correct attitude toward his new position. With Hou’s connections to the city government, Chen’s visit to the institute would probably soon come into a report on the desk of the higher authorities, though it was far from enough to get him out of trouble.
‘Also, I’ve just thought of one who can help you with your Judge Dee project. Professor Zhong of the Literature Institute.’
‘Professor Zhong Longhua?’
‘Yes, that’s him. Tell you what, he has actually served as a consultant to a Judge Dee movie.’
‘Really! I did not know anything about it. Thank you so much, Director Hou. I’ll write down the number of the pages to be copied here. And I’ll go to talk to Professor Zhong right now. The Literature Institute is on the second floor, correct?’
‘Correct.’
Chen made his way down to the Literature Institute.
He had met Zhong Longhua before, in the institute as well as at the Shanghai Writers’ Association. A senior research professor specializing in Tang poetry, Zhong was also a member of the association, in which he belonged to the classical literature group, and Chen to the modern poetry group.
Moving down the stairs, Chen came to a stop on the landing and took out his phone to check the links to the Judge Dee TV movies Jin had sent him the previous day. Sure enough, Zhong’s name appeared as a special consultant for one of the TV adaptations. And in a quick web search, he found in an interview that Zhong had been writing a literary biography of Xuanji, with parts of it published in magazines. It would make a more than plausible pretext for him to consult Zhong about the Tang dynasty case.
The people in the institute came in just two days a week for meetings and political studies, and at the end of the year submitted a list of their publications for the work evaluation. But that morning, with the recent re-emphasis on political studies, all of them were there.
Chen was lucky enough to immediately catch sight of Professor Zhong working at his desk. He looked pleasantly surprised at the sight of Chen stepping into his office.
‘What favorable wind has brought you over here today, Director Chen?’
‘The wind from the Tang dynasty, the rain from the Chang’an Palace.’
‘What a poetic director!’
‘No, I’m just paraphrasing Wang Changling’s line.’
‘Yes, “the moon of the Qing dynasty, the pass of the Hang dynasty”. It’s such an honor to have you come to visit our small office.’
It was not a too-small office, but Zhong had to share the space with four or five colleagues, who wondered whether they should leave the two of them alone there.
Greeting them, Chen seated himself in a chair opposite Zhong, not minding the presence of Zhong’s colleagues in the office.
‘Today I’m here as a student of yours for Tang dynasty poetry. I have always admired your excellent work in the field, Professor Zhong.’
‘You’re flattering me, Director Chen. You have translated a collection of Tang poems, so there’s a lot we two can discuss on the subject. Are you translating another collection of Tang poetry?’
‘I’m planning to. Possibly for an enlarged edition. But for the moment, I’m reading a Judge Dee novel about Xuanji by the Dutch sinologist Van Gulik. A very intriguing book, with the tragic poetess as one of the central characters, so I have a number of questions about Xuanji and Judge Dee. You are the authority on the subject, I know. I’ve just read the interview about the biography of Xuanji you have been working on. And you’ve also served as a special consultant for a Judge Dee TV movie—’
But their talk was interrupted by the entrance of a middle-aged researcher Chen did not know, who turned at the sight of Chen, said something vague in exasperation, and withdrew from the office.
‘Let’s go downstairs to a quieter place,’ Zhong suggested. ‘There’s a café on the first floor of our main building. Not fancy, but quiet. We often meet with our guests there. Only the coffee is not freshly ground.’
‘Don’t worry about the coffee. I’ll pass. I’ve had too much coffee of late.’
It turned out to be quite a large café in the office building, with its customers mainly from the academy. For the moment, only two or three people were sitting near the counter, drinking and reading.
Chen and Zhong seated themselves near the further end of the room behind rows of white-painted magazine shelves, which provided a sort of privacy enclosure.
Zhong ordered a cup of black tea with lemon for Chen, and a cup of black coffee for himself.
‘You were talking about Judge Dee,’ Zhong said, smiling an apologetic smile.
‘Yes, believe it or not, I became interested in the Judge Dee novels because of a poem by Xuanji, which Gulik quoted partially in Poets and Murder. It’s one she wrote for Wen, her first lover, I believe.’
‘That’s little wonder for our poet-detective. I too recognized the poem in the Chinese translation of the novel. But you know what? The translator did not know the poem in the original, so the translation is not that readable back into Chinese.’
‘What a pity for such a superb mystery. The combination of the poems and the love affairs and the murder truly held me spellbound. And I have to consult an authority like you.’
‘You’ve come to the right person, though not an authority as you put it. Yes, I’ve done a biography of Xuanji, which will come out next year. As for Van Gulik’s work, I read the Chinese translation years ago. I don’t remember all of its details, but I did recognize the heroine in Poets and Murder as Xuanji. It was the most sensational real murder case in the Tang dynasty.’
‘What do you think of the case?’
‘The case in Gulik’s Judge Dee story or the case in the Tang dynasty?’
‘Both.’
‘Well, in the Judge Dee story, the main character is Judge Dee, and Xuanji is just one of the intriguing characters thrown in for Judge Dee’s sake. To be frank, a rather unconvincing character in the story.’
‘Please enlighten me further, Professor Zhong.’
‘I’ll start with a short bio of Xuanji, though you may have read about her too. Cut me off any time you want.
‘Xuanji was born of a poor, hardly educated family, but unlike the children from such a family background, she showed extraordinary talent in poetry as a teenager. In the Tang dynasty, however, there was no way for a young girl to come to the fore through poetry writing. No permission for a female candidate to participate in the civil service examination. It was not even considered as a good idea for a woman to be educated, since her role in life was seen, in the light of orthodox Confucianism, to be that of obeying her father before marriage, of obeying her husband after marriage, and of obeying her son after her husband’s death. But poetry writing was so popular at the time, and soon Xuanji attracted the attention of men of letters, among whom she met with Wen Tingyun, a renowned poet. Wen appreciated her beauty as well as her poems. Though she was more than thirty years younger, Xuanji fell for him. It was said the two wrote a number of passionate poems for each other. Things did not work out for them, though. According to some later critics, it was because Wen was a plain man, very self-conscious in the company of women, but according to others, he was too ambitious for an official career. It was romantic to have an affair with a poetry-writing girl like Xuanji, but quite another matter to marry her. Whatever the interpretations, Wen did go out of his way for her by introducing her to Zi’an, a younger man of letters with a far more promising future. Zi’an fell for her, but he was married, with a wife from a prominent family, which meant a lot to his future career. It was out of the question for him to divorce his wife for Xuanji’s sake. So they lived together in the capital for a short period without the knowledge of his wife. When his wife too came to the capital, however, Xuanji had to stay away, missing him day and night.’
‘Yes, she wrote a poem for him titled Look out from the Riverside. It’s included in the collection I have translated, so I remember.’
‘That’s an exquisite poem, for Zi’an had to be frequently away for his official responsibilities, or in the company of his wife, who became furious with Xuanji being a secret concubine. Zi’an had no choice but to send her into a Daoist temple, promising to get her out in a year, but he remained as henpecked as before, doing nothing for her. Despairing, with no end to her waiting, she abandoned herself to affairs with men who came to the temple for her beauty or poetry.
‘The next part of her story got somewhat blurred. She continued writing poems, and being a Daoist made it possible for her to lead a more bohemian life by taking customers like a high-class courtesan in the temple. Then something inexplicable happened. In a moment of jealousy, she beat her maidservant to death, who was said to be carrying on with one of her lovers. She buried the body in a flowerbed outside the temple. But people came to notice flies buzzing and circling the flowerbed the next day, so the bloody body was discovered. Xuanji was found guilty and executed.’
‘What a tragic story! Thank you so much, Professor Zhong. For her affairs with Wen and Zi’an, I think I can find traces in her poems. But can you tell me something more about the murder she committed in the temple.’
‘To begin with, the historical material about the murder case is scanty, and unreliable. It was not recorded in the official Tang history. Nothing but a brief mention of the case in a collection of anecdotes and stories titled Little Tablets from the Three Rivers from the ninth century. Some pieces in the collection are supposedly based on real-life stories in the mid-Tang period. The piece about Xuanji is one of the most well known. According to it, when Xuanji scolded the maid, the maid talked back, and Xuanji beat her to death in a blind fury. With the body discovered, she pleaded guilty and was executed because of it.
‘But the part about Xuanji beating her maid to death in an uncontrollable rage is open to question. Xuanji’s suspicion about the maid was not backed by evidence or witness. How could a talented poetess have suddenly turned into an insane murderer? Some critics thought it might have been a cover-up for something or someone else.’
‘A cover-up, that’s novel.’
‘Also, according to the anecdote in the collection, the judge or the magistrate who sentenced Xuanji to death happened to be one who’d had his advance to her rejected earlier, but that could have been a matter of hearsay. She was such a notorious courtesan, and a high-ranking magistrate would not have made any serious advance or proposal to her. So things might have been more complicated.
‘But more than a thousand years later, with no historical records available, the best you can hope for is one scenario which sounds a bit more likely than another. There’s only one thing I’m sure about in the background of the case. Those romantic affairs might have been popular in folk literature, but she was not seen as one acceptable in the official discourse at the time.’
‘In other words, Xuanji was also found guilty as someone unacceptable to the dominant discourse in the Tang dynasty.’
Zhong nodded broodingly over his cup of coffee.
‘Perhaps because of the scanty material, instead of having Judge Dee investigate the Xuanji case, Gulik was so clever as to put her in the background of another case, in which she appeared to be even more a victim of passion.’
‘Indeed, you know such a lot about the historic details, Professor Zhong. To tell the truth, I’m coming to you today not just because of my curiosity with the Xuanji case as depicted in the Judge Dee novel. I’m thinking of writing a paper about Judge Dee and the Tang judicial system. Possibly with the Xuanji case as an example. As a police officer for many years, I could not help reading Gulik’s novel like a real case, and analyzing it from my experience.’
‘A brilliant idea, Director Chen. It’s a real case. You’re in a unique position to do so, having majored in English literature, read the book in the original language, translated the Tang poems, and written some yourself. Not to mention your experience as a chief inspector.’ Zhong paused, taking a sip of the coffee before he said, ‘And it’s very good timing. It’s a series well known in the Western world about a Chinese hero. Politically correct. In fact, a considerable number of Judge Dee books were translated and published, including Poets and Murder.
‘And the movie producer had a long talk with me about it. It’s much easier for the censorship official to approve a Judge Dee movie – given it was long, long ago in the Tang dynasty, and nothing to do with the socialism with China’s characteristics today. No problem to represent such a Chinese myth as Judge Dee.’
Their talk was interrupted again by a young man barging into the café with a book in his hand.
‘I don’t want to interrupt, Chief Inspector Chen, but I was told that you’re here talking with Professor Zhong. I’ve got to come to say hi to you. My name is Guan, a young colleague of Professor Zhong’s, and I’m a huge fan of yours, not only of your investigations, but of your poems too. And here is a copy of your poems I cherish so much. Would you please sign your name on it for me?’
‘Indeed, who does not know you under the sun?’ Zhong said, beaming with pride. ‘It’s just like the line in Gao Shi’s poem. You have your fans everywhere.’
‘You don’t have to say that, Professor Zhong. I’m just learning such a lot from you about the Judge Dee case.’
‘Of course, Chief Inspector Chen is the Judge Dee of the twenty-first century. You are just being too modest. Since you have a lot to talk about with Professor Zhong, I don’t want to take more of your time. But is there anything I can do for you?’ asked Guan.
‘Perhaps you can make a copy of the manuscript of my book that’s coming out early next year. Director Chen may find it interesting.’ Zhong took out a flash memory stick. ‘Do it in the Director’s office, with the laser printer, quicker and better.’
‘Of course, Professor Zhong. It will be done in no time. Again, thank you so much, Chief Inspector Chen. Your signature has made my day.’
After Guan left with the book, Zhong said with a serious expression, ‘I have a suggestion for you, Director Chen.’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t worry about your research paper. Write a Judge Dee story instead.’
<
br /> ‘Why, Professor Zhong?’
‘I’ve been doing my research on the Tang dynasty poetry for over thirty years, and published books and articles. But what I got paid for them through all these years is less – you may never believe – than the fee for a special consultant in a Judge Dee TV movie. What a shame!
‘And it’s not a matter of money. It’s a third- or fourth-class script about Judge Dee, but the TV producer came to me and made an offer too good for me to say no. Needless to say, I then had to do my part providing the background knowledge for the movie.’
‘Surely they could not have done it without your generous help. And your name adds to their credit too. But why that suggestion of yours to me?’
‘Money aside, you can write a far better story. A story worthy of Judge Dee, Xuanji, and worthy of the Tang poetry, too. And you’ll have a far larger group of readers for your story. Fans like Guan have so much expectation of you. A legendary inspector in contemporary China writing a legendary judge in ancient China. Imagine the response from your readers.’
‘I’ll think about your suggestion, Professor Zhong.’
‘For such a project, I’ll help the best I can. Any historical details you may need for your book – and then for a movie based on your book – just ask.’
‘You’re moving too fast, Professor Zhong. I’ve not written a single word for the story yet, and you’re already talking about a movie based on it. One small problem, though. Judge Dee and Xuanji did not live in the exact same time period. Not the way it is depicted in Gulik’s novel.’
‘There is a simple explanation. It was the most sensational case in the Tang dynasty, with love, poetry, sex, jealousy, murder, fox spirit, and what-not, all the exciting elements in the one case. And Judge Dee, the most celebrated judge or detective at the time. Gulik could not have resisted the temptation to put them together.’
‘That’s true. It’s a temptation for me too.’
‘A couple of movie companies have contacted me about a truly worthy Judge Dee movie. I’ll talk to them tonight. Wait for my phone calls.’
