The Corpse Reader (30 page)

Gray Fox wanted to play principal judge, and Cí didn’t actually mind. What worried him, though, was that he didn’t think Gray Fox was ready. Ming accepted Gray Fox’s proposal of roles not because he made a particularly convincing case for being ahead of Cí, but simply because he had been at the academy longer.

Cí knew this was too much of an opportunity to let their animosity spoil it. He was also willing to admit that Gray Fox had a better knowledge of certain legal and literary subjects, and that they’d probably need these to stand a chance of winning. After dinner that evening, students were breaking off in pairs to get in some last-minute study time, and Cí suggested he and Gray Fox do the same.

“Tomorrow’s a big day. Maybe we could go over some cases together.”

“What makes you think I’d want to study with you? We’re only together because Ming ordered us to be; I don’t need your help. You do your job, I’ll do mine, and that’ll be the end of it.”

Cí didn’t follow him to their dormitory, but stayed up late going over his notes, and in particular the subjects Ming had suggested they concentrate on.

But there was something else worrying Cí. Going to the prefecture headquarters raised the specter of Kao once more. For all
Cí knew, if the sheriff had put a ransom on his head, he might well have distributed descriptions of him, too.

Still, it was the most amazing opportunity.

In the early morning, when the characters began swimming in front of Cí’s tired eyes, he began preparing the equipment he’d brought from the cemetery. He added some large sheets of paper, charcoals, already threaded silk needles, and a jar of camphor from the kitchens. He placed his things next to the other students’ bags and made one last check that he had everything he needed.

Next he began his transformation.

Taking great care, he stuffed his nostrils with cotton, then shaved his downy beard and hid his hair beneath a cap he’d borrowed. He looked at himself in the dull bronze mirror and felt satisfied; it wasn’t a huge change, but every little bit would help.

He felt a pang of nerves as he ran to join the other students, putting on his gloves as he went.

When Ming caught sight of him, he shook his head.

“Where on earth have you been? And what’s that in your nose?”

Cí said he’d prepared the cotton with camphor to help him stand the stench of a corpse. That was why he was late.

“I’m disappointed in you,” said Ming, pointing to a stray lock of hair poking out from Cí’s cap.

Cí didn’t answer, but just hung his head and joined the others. Gray Fox looked immaculate.

It didn’t take long to reach the magnificent walled prefecture headquarters. Situated between the principal canals on Imperial Square, it took up the ground space of at least four normal buildings. It stood out pristine and enormous against the ramshackle buildings and market stalls. It also had something of a dead, desolate air. All
of Lin’an knew and feared the place, but Cí perhaps more so than anyone.

When it came into sight, he couldn’t help but shudder. He pulled the cap down over his temples and wrapped his robes around him. Once they were all inside, Cí tried to hide by staying close behind Gray Fox, and only when they came to the Room of the Dead did he dare to raise his head. The camphor didn’t seem to help much; the smell of death was everywhere.

It was an oppressive room with barely enough space for everyone. To one side there was a small basin fed by a water pipe, and in the middle, the corpse, which reeked. A gaunt guard came in through the opposite doors to announce the arrival of the prefect and to give them the basic details of the case. It was a complicated case, he said, and one that required the utmost discretion: A man of about forty with a ruddy complexion had been found floating in the canal two days earlier by someone working one of the sluice gates. The corpse had been fully clothed and carrying a flask of liquor, but he had no identification card and had not been carrying any personal effects or items of value. His clothes indicated his office, but the guard wasn’t permitted to divulge
which
office at this point. An examination had been carried out the night before under the relevant judge’s supervision, but his conclusions also needed to remain secret.

Ming stepped forward and picked the three pairs who would be carrying out the examination. Each team would have an hour to draw its conclusions, and Ming would track time using incense sticks. He reminded them about taking notes, which they’d need for their summary. First up would be two Cantonese brothers who were experts in literary studies, then a pair advanced in the study of law, and finally Gray Fox and Cí.

Gray Fox complained that they’d be at a disadvantage if the others had already handled the body, but Cí wasn’t worried about
that. The other pairs, being less versed in anatomy, would be unlikely to touch the body very much anyway, and he and Gray Fox would have the advantage of observing the first two before their own examination. Taking out his paper, brush, and ink bottle, Cí prepared to take notes.

Ming lit the first incense stick. The Cantonese brothers bowed and removed the cloth covering the corpse, but before they could begin, there was a crash behind them. Everyone turned to see a shattered ink bottle and a pool of dark ink spilling across the floor. It was Cí’s ink. He was sitting exactly as he had been—one hand still positioned as if holding the ink bottle, the other holding his brush—and staring at the corpse. There, on the examination table, lay the body of Sheriff Kao.

Everyone in the room shot scornful looks at Cí. Gray Fox spat on the floor and turned his back on his partner.

Cí apologized and, in spite of the shock of seeing Kao’s corpse, gathered himself as best he could. He went up to the table to observe the other pairs at work. Whatever happened, he had to know how Kao had died.

The first pair pointed out the lack of apparent wounds, which led them to think the man couldn’t have died violently; perhaps, they said to each other, it had been a mere accident. The second pair focused on the small bite marks on the lips and eyelids—most likely from canal fish—and on details like Kao’s complexion and old scars, which Cí thought were unlikely to reveal the cause of death.

The second incense stick burned down, and it was their turn. Gray Fox approached the corpse as if he had all the time in the world—and as if the incense stick were measuring only his time and not Cí’s as well. Gray Fox circled the corpse and began his examination at the opposite end from what was typical—with the bluish feet. He palpated the knotty, muscular legs all the way up to
the penis, which also appeared to have been nibbled by fish. Cí was watching the time closely; by the time a quarter of the incense stick had burned, Gray Fox hadn’t even examined the torso. Finally, he reached the head, and then asked Cí to help him turn the body over. Gray Fox was exasperatingly slow as he moved down the back of the body.

Cí glanced from the half-finished incense stick to Ming, but the professor was deep in conversation with one of the students and didn’t notice. By the time Gray Fox had finished, there was hardly any time left.

Having seen there were no wounds on the body, Cí followed his instinct and used his time to examine the head. He looked closely at the nape of the neck, the mouth, the eyes, the nostrils; failing to find any evidence of note, he moved on to the ears. Instantly he found something in the left one. Aware that the incense was about to burn out, he hurried over to his instruments to grab his forceps. But as he got back to the corpse, one of the guards stood in front of him; for a moment, Cí panicked that he’d been identified.

“Time’s up,” said the guard.

“But, sir,” Cí said to Ming, who had come back over. “Gray Fox used up much more than half our time.”

“Nothing I can do. The prefect is waiting.”

Cí looked around, desperate.

I have to find a way.

He bowed his acceptance and backed away, but left his forceps near the head. As everyone was filing out, he asked the guard if he could cover the corpse. Since Cí seemed to be acting out of respect, the guard let him.

As they left the Room of the Dead, Cí was satisfied.

On their way back to the academy, Ming apologized to Cí. “I wanted to give you more time, but it would have upset the prefect.”

Cí nodded. He was fully focused on the consequences of his discovery. The prefect, a dumpy, sweaty man, had impressed upon them the extreme confidentiality of the case and sent them off to write up their reports. They had two days—two days in which Cí would determine his fate.

At lunch, he hardly ate. Afterward they had to present their preliminary findings to Ming, and he still didn’t know what he should say. Surely the prefect knew what Kao’s job had been, but Cí didn’t know if the prefect knew—as he did—that Kao had been murdered. If he didn’t know, and Cí announced his conclusions, that would alert the authorities to the existence of a murderer, and Cí believed he would be the prime suspect.

He tried to swallow some food, but it lodged in his throat. The second pair was already meeting with Ming; soon it would be his and Gray Fox’s turn.

Gods, what should I do? What would father do?

A shove from Gray Fox jolted him out of his thoughts. It was time. Cí got up, straightened his clothes, and followed his partner.

It was Cí’s first time in Ming’s private study. He was surprised to find it so gloomy; there were no windows or paper screens to let in daylight. Old silks with anatomical pictures hung on the rosewood walls. Ming sat at an ebony desk consulting a volume in the semi-darkness, and from a shelf behind him a row of skulls peered out. The professor invited them to approach, and they both knelt down. Ming looked at them, and Cí noticed how weary his eyes were.

“I dearly hope you two have something useful to say. Your classmates haven’t drawn one sensible conclusion. I don’t think I’ve
heard such a lot of nonsense in all my days. Well? What can you tell me?”

Gray Fox cleared his throat. He took out his notes and began.

“Most honorable Ming, I thank you with sincere humility for the opportunity—”

“Hold the sincere humilities and get on with it.”