Explore Chapter 6 of 'Cat Country' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
In three or four months, I mastered the language of the Cat-people. One can learn Malay in half a year; Cat-speech is far simpler. Rearranging four or five hundred words can express everything. Naturally, many matters and principles cannot be clearly conveyed this way. The Cat-people have a solution: they simply do not speak of them. They lack many adjectives and adverbs, and their stock of nouns is also meager. Any tree resembling the intoxicating tree is called an intoxicating tree: big intoxicating tree, small intoxicating tree, round intoxicating tree, pointed intoxicating tree, foreign intoxicating tree, large foreign intoxicating tree… In reality, these are entirely different species. The leaf of the intoxicating tree is that very treasure capable of inducing narcosis. Pronouns are seldom used, and relative pronouns are entirely absent. It is an extremely infantile tongue. In truth, one need only remember a few nouns to hold a conversation; verbs can mostly be supplemented with gestures. They also possess a form of writing, comprised of little tower-like and pavilion-like symbols, exceedingly difficult to recognize; the average Cat-person can, at most, commit a dozen or so to memory.
Scorpion-the name of my Cat-person friend-knew many characters and could even compose poetry. By heaping pleasant-sounding nouns together, without requiring the slightest coherent thought, one could produce a Cat-poem. Precious leaf precious flower precious mountain precious cat precious belly… This was Scorpion's “Reflections on Reading History.” The Cat-people possess a history, a civilization over twenty thousand years old.
Once able to converse, I came to understand everything. Scorpion was an important figure in Cat Country: a major landowner, and also a politician, poet, and officer. A major landowner because he possessed a vast tract of intoxicating trees, the intoxicating leaves being the very source of the Cat-people’s sustenance. His reason for keeping me was closely tied to these leaves. According to him, he produced several slabs of history as evidence-their books are made of stone, slabs about two feet square and half an inch thick, each bearing ten or so exceedingly complex characters-five hundred years ago, they tilled the land and harvested grain, unaware of what intoxicating leaves were. Suddenly, some foreigners brought them to Cat Country. At first, only the upper classes could afford them. Later, they transplanted the intoxicating trees themselves, and soon all were addicted. In less than fifty years, those who did not partake became the exception. How comfortable and effortless it was to eat intoxicating leaves! Yet there was one catch: after consumption, though spirits were roused, hands and feet grew disinclined to move. Consequently, farmers ceased farming, workers ceased working, and all embraced idleness. The government issued an edict: the eating of intoxicating leaves was henceforth forbidden. At noon on the edict’s first day, the Empress, in her craving, slapped the Emperor three times across the face-Scorpion shifted a slab aside-and the Emperor, himself craving, wept freely. That very afternoon, a new edict was issued: intoxicating leaves were designated the “National Sustenance.” In all of Cat history, Scorpion declared, there was no deed more glorious or benevolent.
In the over four hundred years since intoxicating leaves were declared the National Sustenance, the progress of Cat civilization accelerated severalfold compared to before. Eating the leaves fostered a distaste for physical labor, naturally freeing time for mental endeavors. The art of poetry, for instance, advanced tremendously; not one poet in twenty thousand years had ever employed the phrase “precious belly.”
This, however, did not mean political and social strife vanished. Three hundred years ago, the cultivation of intoxicating trees was widespread. But the more people ate, the lazier they grew, slowly becoming too idle even to plant the trees. Then, it so happened, a year of great floods arrived-Scorpion’s ashen face seemed to pale a shade, for the Cat-people fear water above all else-washing away many of the groves. The lack of other sustenance the Cat-people could endure, but without intoxicating leaves, their lethargy could no longer be sustained. Robbery erupted everywhere. As robberies grew too numerous, the government issued its most humane decree yet: those who robbed for intoxicating leaves to eat were guiltless. These last three centuries have been an age of robbery. This was not a bad thing, for robbery is the supreme expression of personal freedom, and freedom is the highest ideal the Cat-people have cherished since the dawn of their history.
(Note: The term ‘freedom’ in Cat-speech does not correspond to its meaning in Chinese. What the Cat-people call freedom is the bullying of others, non-cooperation, causing disturbances… The rule that men and women should not touch hands stems from this, for a free person does not permit others to make contact. When they meet, instead of shaking hands or exchanging kisses, they signify respect by twisting their heads backward.)
Scorpion closed his mouth for a moment. A Cat-person’s mouth is perpetually open, the nose handling little of respiration; an occasional closure signifies pride or deep thought. His reply was: now only a few dozen still plant trees, all of them powerful individuals-politicians, officers, poets, and landowners combined. They cannot afford not to plant, for to cease is to forfeit all influence. Engaging in politics requires intoxicating leaves, else one cannot gain audience with the Emperor. Being an officer requires the trees, for they constitute army pay. Composing poetry absolutely demands the leaves, as they enable one to dream by daylight. In short, intoxicating leaves are omnipotent. With them, one can act with absolute license for a lifetime. ‘Acting with absolute license’ is the noblest phrase in the vocabulary of upper-class Cat-people.
Finding ways to protect the groves was the foremost task of Scorpion and the other landowners. Though they possessed soldiers, these could not work for them. Cat soldiers believe in freedom. They crave only their intoxicating leaves and comprehend no orders. Their own soldiers often came to rob them, a fact which, judging from Scorpion’s tone, was seen by the Cat-people as the most logical thing in the world. Who, then, protected the groves? Foreigners. Every landowner must keep several foreigners as protectors. The awe and fear the Cat-people hold for foreigners is an innate trait. Their freedom prevents five soldiers from coexisting for three days without fatal incident; fighting outsiders is an impossibility. Scorpion added, quite smugly, “Our talent for mutual slaughter grows greater by the day. The methods of killing have become almost as ingenious as those for composing poetry.”
“Killing has become an art,” I said. Cat-speech has no word for ‘art.’ Despite my lengthy explanation, he remained uncomprehending, but he memorized these two Chinese characters.
In ancient times they had also warred with foreign states and even prevailed. But in the last five hundred years, the fruits of mutual slaughter caused them to utterly forget the very notion of fighting foreigners, directing their efforts unanimously inward. Consequently, they are exceedingly afraid of foreigners; without foreign supervision, even their Emperor cannot get intoxicating leaves to his lips.
Scorpion and a group of landowners all rushed to the airplane, hoping to secure a foreigner to protect the groves. Their original foreign protectors had all, for unknown reasons, returned to their own countries, necessitating the hiring of new ones.
They agreed: after inviting me, they would take turns providing for me, as foreigners had become exceedingly difficult to hire of late. ‘Inviting’ me was their original intent. Who knew I did not possess a cat-face? They had never before seen a foreigner like me. They were terrified beyond measure. But then, seeing how harmless I appeared, they decided to shift from ‘inviting’ to ‘capturing.’ They were ‘personages’ of Cat Country, and thus brimmed with cunning. When necessary, they could also take risks. Thinking back now, had I used force from the very beginning, I could certainly have scared them off. But fortunately, I did not. For even had I temporarily frightened them away, they would never have relented. Moreover, I could find no food. On the other hand, being captured by them like this meant that even if they still feared me, they would not ‘respect’ me. Sure enough, the plan morphed from a public invitation to a desire for exclusive possession. Scorpion and that group of landowners all saw the advantage: capturing me naturally obviated further negotiation of terms; merely providing some food would suffice. Thus, they all changed their minds. Breaking promises and violating oaths is part of freedom. Scorpion felt his success was immensely pride-worthy.
After binding me and placing me in the small boat, they all took side paths, heading for the hut roofed by sky to await me. They feared water and dared not board the boat. Should the boat capsize mid-journey, the blame would naturally fall upon my misfortune, having nothing to do with them. The hut was not far from a stretch of sand. The river nearly dried up upon reaching the sand, ensuring the boat would certainly stop.
Scorpion’s grove was nearest to the hut; yet it still took him the better part of a day to remember to visit me. After eating intoxicating leaves, one must sleep awhile. He was quite sure the others would not come quickly either. He arrived, and the others arrived too, which was wholly unexpected. “Fortunately, there was that art,” he said, pointing at my pistol, seeming somewhat grateful to it. Later, he referred to all indescribable things as ‘art.’
He shook his head, merely telling me it was a foreign object. “Many things come from foreign lands,” he said. “Very useful, but we disdain to imitate them. We are the most ancient of all nations!” He closed his mouth for a moment. “Walking always requires wearing bracelets and leg-irons. Very useful!” This might be truth, or perhaps he was merely teasing me.
I asked him where he slept each night, for the grove contained only my single small cave; he must have another place. He seemed unwilling to answer, asking me for an art, meaning the one to be shown to the Emperor. I gave him a matchstick and pressed no further about his sleeping quarters. In a society that values such freedom, everyone must keep some secrets.