Mayor Qian did not claim himself as a student of Judge Dee’s, but he knew better than to not offer help. To the mayor, Judge Dee was not just a judge, but a mighty, high-ranking minister closely connected to the empress. After all, how could an ordinary judge have been entrusted with such a sensitive investigation unless he had a powerful background? Judge Dee was known for his deep involvement in current Tang politics, which was full of dark, dangerous conspiracies.

  ‘It’s a great honor for me to be able to do something for Your Honor. You are entrusted with this highly sensitive investigation by Her Majesty,’ Mayor Qian said deliberately. ‘As far as the fishing girl is concerned, I don’t think it will be too much of a problem for me to arrange something with Little Swallow today. If need be, I can cancel her business license with immediate effect. She is well known, with a large number of followers. But her business is in a sort of gray area, as Your Honor may know.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Mayor Qian. That’s a great help. If possible, please arrange the meeting to be a private one. I’d really appreciate it. It goes without saying that no one else needs to know anything about tonight’s special sampan meal.’

  About an hour later, Judge Dee was told that the mayor had succeeded in booking Little Swallow for dinner that evening – including the night too, if necessary. All the expenses had been paid in advance. It’s just as a popular saying goes: In the world of red dust, it takes a powerful official to get things done.

  And late that afternoon, stepping down the pier toward Little Swallow’s sampan, moored by the riverbank, Judge Dee did not know how the meeting would work out, or how long it would take. A lot of people were milling around the pier, talking, laughing, bargaining, jostling, elbowing each other aside, almost like in a noisy market.

  Seeing Little Swallow’s sampan was fairly small, Judge Dee asked Yang to wait on the crowded pier. When the sampan started paddling out into the river, Yang might be able to keep it in sight. It should not move out too far.

  Soon enough, Little Swallow exited the boat and almost glided toward him. Barefoot, and wearing a homespun red dudou-like corset top, it seemed as if she was stepping out of a traditional Chinese painting.

  Little Swallow was a fine-featured girl, vivacious, radiant with a healthy tan. Considering how often she had to dive deep into the water for the catch of the day, Judge Dee did not wonder about her scant clothing – or her popularity. She would have appeared irresistibly enticing to a bookish yet romantic man like Luo, he thought. And, for that matter, to a lot of other customers too.

  She led him carefully on to the sampan. The boat’s shelter, with its bamboo hard top, was tiny, presumably to make more room for the kitchen area on the deck. Once Judge Dee was onboard, amidst the pots and pans, there was not much space left for her, but she still moved around agilely, a pair of anklets gleaming, tinkling over her bare ankles.

  A short poem written by Li Bai flashed into Judge Dee’s mind.

  A fine-featured pretty girl, fair

  like a bright moon in the night sky,

  wearing no socks, her bare feet

  white like frost in wooden sandals.

  In the Tang time, under the Confucianist orthodoxy, the convention was for marriages to be arranged. Young girls were not supposed to mix with young men before marriage, let alone date of their own free will. And the list of taboos that were against convention went on and on – young women were not allowed to walk out barefoot, not allowed to wear anything sensual in public, not even allowed to touch hands with the opposite sex …

  Because of that, Little Swallow oozed an exotic attraction to her customers, like a beam of dancing fire, attracting the fatally doomed moths.

  To Judge Dee’s surprise, Little Swallow didn’t seem to be that interested in talking with him. At best, her manner could be described as business-like, even though she said she’d heard he was an honest, capable, high-ranking official at court and was highly trusted by Her Majesty. Consequently, she said, the local mayor had insisted she go all out to entertain such a ‘distinguished guest’ as him.

  ‘The weather is so fine today. Perfect for a special meal on deck, Your Honor,’ she said, tossing her long black hair in the breeze. In the background, two or three white water birds were fluttering up and down in the air.

  The sampan started paddling slowly into the river, amid the splashing waves and ripples. A dragonfly came gliding over, circling in curiosity, before it perched on the unused oar leaning aside.

  Still talking glibly, she started bustling around a small earthen stove she had moved up on the deck: lighting the fire with dry twigs, blowing on to it with her shapely mouth, sharpening a knife on a stone, ladling fresh water into several urns and spreading colorful ingredients on a wooden board to the side of the stove …

  Judge Dee had gathered more information, from here and there, about Luo and Little Swallow, although the reports were not that reliable. He’d heard she was someone capable of singing folk songs, and that she was particularly known for a series called ‘Bamboo Twig Songs’. This was a group of beautiful, rhythmic folk songs, which had been edited and revised by a brilliant Tang dynasty poet named Liu Yuxi, and Judge Dee thought they could definitely count as poetry. So, as a talented singer of these songs, Little Swallow might have had some common language – if not a lot – with Luo.

  While Little Swallow busied herself with the dinner preparations, Judge Dee talked to her as if he were a conventional customer, full of curious questions. He asked her about tonight’s special sampan menu, about her business in general and about this and that, before he brought up Luo’s name in a seemingly casual way.

  ‘Quite a number of celebrities have come to your boat, I hear, including Luo Binwang,’ he said. ‘I think I’m really lucky today.’

  ‘Luo Binwang? I don’t recall the name.’

  Little Swallow’s response dismayed him. Particularly because the nonchalant manner in which she said it convinced Judge Dee that her answer was truthful.

  ‘No, I cannot recall him, not at all,’ she repeated categorically, shaking her head like a pretty rattle drum.

  Then, with most of the dinner preparation done, she moved toward the bow of the sampan, where she stood and started warbling a song in a sweet voice.

  Red peach blossoms blaze

  all over the mountains

  with the green spring waters

  of the Shu River circling.

  The flowers will easily fade,

  my lord, like your passion,

  while the water flows on,

  never-ending, like my feelings.

  She had an enchanting voice, but the way she was singing – slightly mechanical, or perhaps artificial – struck Judge Dee as being just part of her business practice, like that of diving into the river with a splash, of catching live fish in her bare hands and of cooking there and then on the deck of the boat.

  It seemed to be all done for the sake of business. Little wonder she could not remember a particular customer’s name – even that of someone like Luo Binwang. The romantic stories about Luo and Little Swallow, told by men of letters, were proving to be nothing but hearsay and fantasy. Luo had had a poor, tough life, and some fans of his poetry, sympathetic to his miseries, could have chosen to make up those amorous tales and add a touch of bright color to his otherwise somber existence.

  It spelled that Judge Dee would most likely get nowhere if he continued investigating in this direction. In the end, the research he’d done into Luo and Little Swallow’s relationship, as luck would have it, appeared to have been a total waste of effort.

  A white fish was jumping in the river, splashing up myriads of beads of water. Judge Dee looked down, gazing at the white jasmine bud in his teacup, and then over at the bare back of the young fishing girl kneeling in front of him, bending over the ingredients she’d prepared so far for the sampan dinner. He was surprised at the sight of something like a fly stuck on the bare sole of one of her feet – or was it merely a smudge, picked up from the deck? Judge Dee knew he was getting old, his vision failing more and more.

  This could turn out to be his last case …

  ‘I’m a sentimental old fool,’ he murmured to himself, almost inaudibly, with a touch of self-satire, in an attempt to ridicule himself out of his strange mood, ‘wandering around, spellbound in the midst of the blossoming flowers.’

  He should leave her boat. Today was not a day for him to indulge himself with an exotic sampan meal, however delicious it might taste. He had to cut his losses and—

  But he was jerked out of his thoughts by the sight of Little Swallow jumping into the river. She dived in with a graceful curve, swam like a mermaid, striking out her arms rhythmically, splashing up infinite diamonds into the late-afternoon light.

  So, she was diving into the water to make the well-known ‘live catch of the day’.

  The local mayor would have put a lot of pressure on her. Judge Dee knew that Little Swallow had no choice but to perform her best for a distinguished guest like him. And he knew better than to imagine she could have any romantic interest in a fat, old man like him.

  The surface of the river was growing calm again, and hardly any ripples were visible in the gradually fading light. Little Swallow had vanished out of sight, but Judge Dee wasn’t too worried. She was known for her extraordinary diving skills.

  And in any case, his mind was wandering back to the Luo case, helplessly, as if he were obsessed.

  Dusk is approaching fast,

  where is my faraway home?

  The scene of mist-and-smoke-covered river

  only adds to the melancholy …

  Judge Dee heaved a long sigh and stood up. He was moving to the sampan’s stern, the wind fitful, when she shot out of the water like a flying fish. She was carrying live bass and mandarin fish, and crabs were struggling in a string net attached to her slender waist. The silver bangles around her ankles glittered and jingled as she swam back toward the solitary sampan.

  She was peddling the water effortlessly. The soles of her bare feet shone pinkish in the shifting light reflecting from the sampan – then inexplicably juxtaposed with the red webbed feet of a snow-white goose, which also seemed to come out of nowhere, like a mysterious apparition in the ripples of the river.

  Little Swallow started murmuring, ‘Goo, goo, goo …’ as she swam near, while the mystical goose circled the sampan’s bow.

  In a trance, Judge Dee felt as if he himself had metamorphosed into a goose, all of a sudden, under the young girl’s gaze. He could not help it – the first few lines of the well-known poem penned by Luo burst out of him.

  ‘Goo, goo, goo!’

  Arching its neck,

  the goose is singing

  to the high skies …

  Little Swallow climbed back into the sampan, her wet feet leaving a line of footprints on the deck, her eyes mirroring the surprise on Judge Dee’s face.

  ‘Were you reciting a poem, Little Swallow?’ Judge Dee said, eying the young girl up and down. ‘The poem titled “Ode to a Goose”.’

  ‘Oh, you know it too, Your Honor? Yes, I was.’

  ‘Have you read a lot of poems?’

  ‘No, hardly any. But in my childhood, I often heard other kids singing that poem in their gardens. My parents were too poor to send me to school, but those days when I could listen to a poem like that, and learn to sing it, those were happy ones. Alas, my parents passed away when I was barely a teenager.’

  ‘I am so sorry to hear that, Little Swallow.’

  ‘After the death of my parents, I had to support myself in one way or another, you know? I’ve grown up by the river, and I turned into a so-called fishing girl—’

  ‘What’s wrong with that, Little Swallow? You should be proud of yourself. You are capable of supporting yourself with your hard work and extraordinary skill.’

  Standing up on the deck, Judge Dee started to recite the poem ‘Ode to a Goose’ from beginning to end:

  ‘“Goo, goo, goo!”

  Arching its neck,

  the goose is singing

  to the high skies,

  white feathers drifting

  over the green water,

  and red webs pedaling

  in the clear ripples.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. That’s the very poem sung by other girls in the garden, Your Honor!’

  ‘Is there anyone living under the sun of the great Tang Empire who does not know this poem? “Ode to a Goose” presents an innocent and beautiful picture of the children and the goose amusing themselves, blending into each other. It is written from a child’s perspective, observing the goose from the shore, and it is easy to picture the scene. The goose, singing in the water, seems to be teasing the children. The children, craning their necks at the scene, imitate the “goo, goo, goo” sound. We can easily imagine that, in reaction to the children’s teasing, the big white goose swims more vigorously and sings more cheerfully.’

  ‘You’re so right about that, Your Honor. I did not know it’s such a famous poem.’

  ‘This poem is so simple, so natural. At first, young children, who have not learned to speak, can only utter the sound of “goo, goo, goo” … until the word “goose” finally bursts blissfully out of their mouths. When read aloud by children, their joy and the joy of the white goose smoothly converge into one. However, the poem is not just for children. It works for adult readers too, because it successfully evokes a provocative vision of lost innocence at the depth of their hearts.’

  ‘Wow, your interpretation makes the poem even more beautiful to me, and more meaningful. You are a profound scholar. I really appreciate your help, Your Honor.’

  ‘“Ode to a Goose” is extremely popular among the literati, as well as the ordinary people. But can you guess who wrote this fantastic poem, Little Swallow?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Luo Binwang. The poet I’ve just asked you about.’

  ‘The poet you have just asked me about? Oh, no. That’s not possible – it was not written by a man of that name.’

  ‘And from what I have learned,’ Judge Dee pressed, ‘that renowned poet once stayed with you on this sampan for a couple of nights.’

  ‘A renowned poet stayed with me for a couple of nights on the boat?’ she murmured, as if questioning herself, incredulity written clearly on her face.

  Leaving the question unanswered, she tied her hair up with a long wooden pin, threw two or three crabs into a steaming pot and turned to scale the small-mouth bass, which was still jumping vigorously on the bamboo cutting board.

  Why Luo Binwang had chosen to stay for a couple of nights on her boat, Judge Dee thought he could understand.

  ‘I once had a customer who did not give me his name,’ she said, looking up. ‘He simply called himself a pathetic, down-and-out bookworm. He came to me merely as a customer, like others, not as an important man.’

  ‘I think I know why.’

  ‘But I did not know—’ She took a short pause before going on. ‘Anyway, he did look like a down-and-out bookworm to me. He told me he was the author of the goose poem and recited it for me from beginning to end. I thought the poem was just doggerel for children, not a famous work by a renowned poet.

  ‘But, because of my precious childhood memory, you know, I felt obliged to do something for him – something small, in my own way. My customers usually pay me a fairly high price for a special boat meal, but he was apparently not that well-off. It happened to be the low fishing season, so I invited him to stay for free on the boat for a couple of days …’

  ‘It’s like an archetype from classical Chinese literature. A young beauty falls in love with a man who’s neither wealthy nor famous. She simply adores him for his talent from the bottom of her heart—’

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about, Your Honor. You must be teasing me.’

  ‘No, I’ll find a copy of Story of Liwa for you, Little Swallow. You should read it, and then you’ll understand this archetype from classical Chinese literature …’

  The sampan was drifting into the middle of the river, purposelessly.

  Little Swallow started cooking on the small stove, her clothing still wet, and her face flushing with the fire. She proved to be a well-seasoned chef, moving around light-footedly, throwing in a pinch of brownish salt, and adding a bunch of chopped scallions …

  Soon a variety of delicacies appeared on a small rough, unpainted wooden table set between the two of them. Slices of sticky-rice-filled lotus root immersed in honey, steamed bass with slices of green onion and golden ginger on top, and a large bowl of minced fish congee strewn with chopped parsley … Judge Dee considered that Little Swallow was doing a miraculous job this evening.

  The remaining straw-tied crabs made a faint bubbling sound in a sesame-floored pail, while a large mandarin fish thrashed around in another pail, splashing in a desperate struggle. Those were to be cooked later, Judge Dee supposed.

  He was raising his chopsticks, ready to taste the steamed bass, when she spun around to stop him, saying, ‘Please wait just a minute, Your Honor.’

  She bent down to put more slices of green onion and golden ginger, plus several pieces of dried red pepper, on top of the fish, then poured a ladle of sizzling oil over it all. Judge Dee tasted the fish, still sizzling in the white and blue bowl, his mouth watering with a surge of delicious flavor. It was both unbelievably tasty and tender.

  ‘It’s worth every penny, I have to say,’ Judge Dee said, a large piece of the fish swimming on his tongue, though he had no idea how much the local mayor had paid her. ‘You are a super chef, Little Swallow!’

  She deftly ladled out a smaller bowl of the steaming hot fish congee, threw in a pinch of white pepper and placed it softly in front of Judge Dee.

  A favor from such a beauty as Little Swallow is difficult to pay back. So Luo Binwang must have thought when he was in the company of Little Swallow, Judge Dee concluded, putting a spoonful of the congee into his mouth.