The Last Mandarin
“He thought often that he would have made a good flatfoot in some progressive country with microscopes, fingerprint kits and electric chairs. He was a Peking man, born and bred in a quiet quarter near the Lama Temple up by Tung Chih Men; his father had been a supervisor of streets, roads and alleys for the municipal government, first under the Dowager Empress and then under various warlords and republics. Yen thought of himself as an oppressed civil servant, with immense tasks and no resources, hunting fiery dragons with a paper sword. He was married but childless, and not for lack of effort; it was a tragedy but no longer, in modern times, a shame. His wife was unlettered, and his house was a man’s house; when colleagues came to dinner, they left their wives home, and Yen’s woman ate alone. They kept one servant, a scolding old cook. Yen’s wife had little to do. Yen assumed that she had her interests and hobbies. He was wrong; hers was a wasted life, and that was all that could ever b...e said about her.MoreLess
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