The two of them were separated for as much as a month without even seeing each other. For the woman, all by herself:
Each day was like three months of autumn;
Each night seemed like half a summer.
How could she endure:
The seclusion of her deserted chamber,
Or the scorching flames of her desire?
To even catch a glimpse of him was:
As difficult as difficult could be,
and between the two of them:
All communication had been cut off.
As for Ch’en Ching-chi:
There was no way he could gain access to her.7
Suddenly one day, he caught sight of Auntie Hsüeh as she passed by outside the gate, and it occurred to him that he might be able to prevail upon her to deliver a note to Chin-lien on his behalf that would:
Express his concern about their separation,
And serve to reveal his innermost feelings.
One day, on the pretext of going to settle accounts with a creditor outside the city gate, he rode his mount straight to the home of Auntie Hsüeh, tied up his mule, raised the hanging screen, and asked, “Is Auntie Hsüeh at home?”
Her son Hsüeh Chi’s wife, Chin Ta-chieh, was sitting on the k’ang with her baby son in her arms, in the company of two girls that people had entrusted to Auntie Hsüeh to offer for sale as maidservants. When she heard someone calling for Auntie Hsüeh, she came out and asked who it was.
“It’s only me,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, and asked, “Is Auntie Hsüeh at home, or not?”
“Uncle, please come inside and have a seat,” responded Chin Ta-chieh. “My mother-in-law has gone to someone’s place to collect payment on a few items of costume jewelry that she is offering for sale. What have you got to say to her? I’ll send someone to call for her.”
So saying, she hastened to pour out a serving of tea for Ch’en Ching-chi.
After he had sat there for a little while, who should appear but Auntie Hsüeh, who came in and greeted Ch’en Ching-chi with a bow, saying, “Uncle, what wind has blown you to my home here?”
Turning to Chin Ta-chieh, she said, “Pour out some tea for Uncle to drink.”
“He has just finished a serving of tea,” said Chin Ta-chieh.
“I would not have bothered to come for no reason,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “but I have been entangled, thus and so, with the Fifth Lady for some time, and now, thanks to the wagging tongue of that maidservant Ch’iu-chü, our liaison has been disrupted, and both the First Lady and my wife, Hsi-men Ta-chieh, have decided to turn a cold shoulder to me. My relationship with Sister Six is such that:
We can never agree to be separated,
but the two of us have been kept apart for some time now, and:
All communication has been cut off.
I would like to send a few words to her, but there is no one able to get inside for this purpose. That is why I have felt compelled to appeal to you in the hope that you might find some way, thus and so, to transmit a message on my behalf.”
Reaching inside his sleeve, he brought out a tael of silver, and said, “This paltry gift is merely offered in the hope that you can use it to purchase some tea for yourself.”
No sooner did Auntie Hsüeh hear him out than she fell to:
Clapping her hands and beating her palms,
as she laughed out loud, saying, “Whoever heard of a son-in-law making out with his mother-in-law? Such conduct is unheard of in this world. Uncle, tell me the truth. Really, how did you ever accomplish such a thing?”
“Auntie Hsüeh,” responded Ch’en Ching-chi, “pray keep your voice down, and stop scoffing at me. I have brought a sealed note here with me, and I hope that, for better or for worse, you will be good enough to deliver it to her for me tomorrow.”
Auntie Hsüeh took the note with one hand, saying, “Ever since your First Lady returned from her pilgrimage I haven’t gone to pay a call on her, so if I go do so now I can kill two birds with one stone.”
“Where can I expect to hear back from you,” asked Ch’en Ching-chi.
“I’ll go look for you in the shop and report to you there,” replied Auntie Hsüeh.
When they had finished their conversation, Ch’en Ching-chi mounted his mule and returned home.
To resume our story, the next day, Auntie Hsüeh took her box of trinkets and made her way first to the master suite in Hsi-men Ch’ing’s house to pay a call on Yüeh-niang. After sitting with her for a while, she also went to visit Meng Yü-lou, and only then went to Chin-lien’s quarters.
Chin-lien, at the time, had set up a table and was eating her congee.
When Ch’un-mei saw that the woman was:
Feeling depressed and unhappy,
she said, “Mother, you ought not to be so upset. Even the immortal maiden Ho Hsien-ku8 was falsely accused of having daily trysts with a lover.
When gossip over pros and cons is overheard,9
If you pay no heed to it, it will disappear.
But even the immortals of ancient times were sometimes guilty of:
The moral deficiencies of petty persons,10
not to mention the likes of you and me. Moreover, at present, Father is dead, and the First Lady has given birth to a posthumous son, who may also be said to be:
Of questionable origin.
Consequently, she is in no position to exert control over our private affairs. You might as well relax.
Even if the sky should be about to fall,
There are the four giants to hold it up.
For humans living in this world:
Every day that you enjoy is another day.”
Thereupon, she poured out some wine and handed a goblet of it to the woman, saying, “Mother, drink a cup of this warmed wine in order to dissipate your depression.”
Then, happening to notice that there were two dogs engaged in copulation beneath the steps, she said, “Since even animals enjoy this kind of pleasure, how can humans be expected to do otherwise?”
As they were drinking their wine, who should appear but Auntie Hsüeh, who came in, bowed in greeting, and said, “The two of you, mother and daughter, are certainly having an easy time of it.”
Then, catching sight of the two copulating dogs, she laughed, saying, “What an auspicious omen for your house. As the two of you enjoy the sight, how could it help but relieve your depression?”
So saying, she proceeded to bow to them once again.
“What wind has blown you here today?” the woman asked. “And why has it been so long since you paid us a visit?”
So saying, she offered Auntie Hsüeh a seat.
“I don’t know what has kept me so busy all day long,” said Auntie Hsüeh, “but I just haven’t had any spare time. When the First Lady returned from her pilgrimage to the summit of Mount T’ai I failed to visit her, and she expressed her disappointment to me just now. I also visited the Third Lady on the west side of the rear compound and she decided to purchase two pairs of turquoise ornaments and a pair of decorative pins to hold her chignon in place. She is inclined to handle things promptly and weighed out eight mace of silver for me on the spot. Unlike that Sun Hsüeh-o from the rear compound, who bought two pairs of velvet artificial flowers from me in the eighth month, which were worth two mace of silver, but claims that she is short of cash and refuses to pay me. She is really a stingy sort. But may I venture to ask, why were you not anywhere to be seen?”
“I have not been feeling too well the last few days,” the woman replied, “and have not been up and about.”
Ch’un-mei proceeded to pour out a goblet of wine and offer it to Auntie Hsüeh, who promptly bowed in response, saying:
“If one drinks a cup of wine on entering the door.”
At which, the woman interrupted her, saying:
“You’ll bear a bonny baby someday.”
“I’m no longer able to do so,” responded Auntie Hsüeh, “but my daughter-in-law, Chin Ta-chieh, gav
e birth to a son only two months ago.”
She then went on to say, “Since the death of your husband, you must have been feeling lonely for some time now.”
“Needless to say,” the woman responded, “if he were only here everything would be fine. But at present, the two of us are being:
Alternately broken up and ground down.11
I won’t deceive you, Auntie Hsüeh, but right now in this household:
When people are many, tongues are many.
Ever since the First Lady produced that son of hers, her attitude has changed, and our sisterly feelings are no longer as warm as they used to be. For the last few days, both because I have been feeling depressed and because I have been the target of malicious gossip, I have not gone back to the rear compound.”
“It’s all due to that slave of ours, Ch’iu-chü,” explained Ch’un-mei. “While the First Lady was away from home, she made up an invidious story about my mistress out of thin air and dragged me into it as well, creating quite a disruption.”
“So it was all the doing of that maidservant of hers,” said Auntie Hsüeh. “How could she bring herself to betray her mistress that way? It goes without saying that:
If you don the black livery of a servant,
You must cling to even the blackest post.
That kind of conduct will never do.”
At this, the woman turned to Ch’un-mei and said, “Go see what that slave is up to. I fear she may be eavesdropping on us.”
“She’s back in the kitchen picking up some rice,” said Ch’un-mei. “That ruptured vessel of a slave serves in these quarters as:
Nothing but a leaky trough.
She habitually takes our private affairs and peddles them abroad.”
“Since no one else is present,” said Auntie Hsüeh, “we can hold a frank conversation. Yesterday, your son-in-law Ch’en Ching-chi came to my place and told me, thus and so, what has been going on. So it turns out that she was the one responsible for exposing your affair. Ch’en Ching-chi told me that the First Lady has taken him severely to task, seen to it that all the doors are tightly secured, and prohibited him from coming inside to fetch clothes or pharmaceutical supplies. And that she has even gone so far as to move his wife Hsi-men Ta-chieh into the rear compound to reside in Li Chiao-erh’s former quarters on the east side of the courtyard, and stopped sending food out to the shop for his lunch, so that he has been compelled to go to the home of his maternal uncle Chang Kuan for his meals. What sense does it make for her to refuse to trust her own son-in-law, but to put her trust in those page boys instead? He said that it has been some time since he has seen you and pleaded with me to deliver a note to you. He sends you his ardent regards and suggests that you should not allow yourself to be upset. After all, since your husband is dead, you might as well determine to go flat out and do what you want, no matter how much of a commotion it may cause. What is there to be afraid of?
Rather than fearing that a stick of incense
may produce smoke,
You might as well simply set it on fire and
let it go at that.”
Thereupon, she took out the sealed note that Ch’en Ching-chi had entrusted to her and handed it to the woman. When she opened it and took a look she found that it contained nothing but a song to the tune “Red Embroidered Slippers” that read as follows:
The fire in the Zoroastrian Temple12
burns my skin and flesh;
The Blue Bridge is flooded with water13
right up to my throat.
Though we try to repress it, the word
has been spread abroad.
Even if we should call it off, the
damage is already done.
If we should consummate the affair
it would be romantic;
But if we should not, they will still
contend that we did.14
After the words to the song, it read: “Addressed to the dressing table of Sister Six,” followed by the inscription, “Presented with a hundred salutations by Ch’en Ching-chi.”
When the woman had finished reading it, she tucked the note into her sleeve.
Auntie Hsüeh said, “He wants you to send a token of some kind back to him, along with a few words, so that he will know that I actually delivered his message.”
The woman told Ch’un-mei to share a drink of wine with Auntie Hsüeh while she retired into her room. After some time, she came out with a white satin handkerchief along with a gold ring. She had inscribed a song to the tune “Red Embroidered Slippers” on the handkerchief that read as follows:
On your account, I have had to anticipate
surprise and suffer fear;
On my account, you have gone so far as
to neglect your spouse.
On your account, I have stopped putting
on my rouge and powder;
On your account, I have had to disguise
my intentions before others;
On your account, I have had to resort to
deception with my servants.
As a consequence, the pair of us have both
become utterly distraught.15
When the woman had sealed these things up securely and handed them to Auntie Hsüeh, she said, “Convey my regards to him, and tell him that he ought not to let his temper get the better of him and persist in going to eat his meals at the home of his maternal uncle Chang Kuan. By so doing, he runs the risk of annoying his uncle to the point that he may complain, saying, ‘You conduct your business at the home of your father-in-law but come to my place to eat your meals, thereby giving people the impression that both households are hard up.’ If he doesn’t have anything to eat, tell him to take some money from the shop and use it to buy snacks for himself and Manager Fu Ming. If you continue to let your temper get the better of you and refuse to come inside, who have you got to blame but yourself? It seems he is just an example of the adage that:
The thief suffers from a sense of guilt.”
Auntie Hsüeh said, “I’ll convey your message to him.”
After the woman had also given her five mace of silver, Auntie Hsüeh said farewell, went out the door, and headed for the shop at the front of the compound to look for Ch’en Ching-chi.
The two of them went to a secluded spot where they could talk in private, and Auntie Hsüeh handed the sealed package to him and told him that the Fifth Lady had enjoined him not to let his temper get the better of him or express his resentment, but find a way to come inside when he wanted to; and to refrain from going to eat his meals at his uncle Chang Kuan’s place, lest he give him cause for annoyance.
She then showed him the five mace of silver, saying, “This is the reward given me by the lady inside.
The holes in the water clock let it all spill out.16
There is no reason to doubt that the two of you will get together again in the future, and if she were to mention it to you without my having revealed it, I would be embarrassed.”
“Auntie Hsüeh,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, bowing deeply to her, “I am greatly indebted to you.”
Auntie Hsüeh took a few steps on her way but then came back and said, “I almost forgot something. Just now, as I was leaving, the First Lady sent the maidservant Hsiu-ch’un to intercept me and invite me back to the rear compound. She asked me to return this evening and take Ch’un-mei away with me because she intends to sell her. She said that she had acted as a go-between for the two of you and colluded with her mistress in facilitating your adulterous affair. That is the reason she wants to get rid of her.”
“Auntie Hsüeh,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “go ahead and take her to your place. I’ll come pay you a visit someday soon, because there is something I want to ask her.”
When their conversation was concluded, Auntie Hsüeh returned home.
Sure enough, that same evening, as the moon was rising, she came back to take Ch’un-mei away but went first into Yüeh-niang’s quarters.
“Original
ly,” said Yüeh-niang, “I purchased her from you for sixteen taels of silver, and now you can have her back for the same sum of sixteen taels of silver.”
She then turned to Hsiao-yü, and said, “You go out front with her to take care of things, and see that she leaves empty-handed. Don’t let her take any clothing with her other than what she has on.”
Auntie Hsüeh then proceeded out front and told the woman, thus and so, “The First Lady has sent me to take Sister Ch’un-mei away. She told me that you and she had been:
Colluding in chicanery,
in order to facilitate your clandestine adultery, and that she:
Didn’t care about the rights and wrongs,
of the situation, but only wanted to recover the original price she had paid for Ch’un-mei.”
When the woman heard that she was going to take Ch’un-mei away in order to be sold, she opened her eyes wide and was unable to say a word for what seemed like half a day.
Before she knew it, her eyes brimmed over with tears, and she said, “Auntie Hsüeh, you can see how hard it has been on the two of us to be without a man in our lives. And now, when our husband has been dead for such a short space of time, she wants to get rid of his former bedmates. How can the First Lady be so bereft of human-heartedness, benevolence, and righteousness? Only because she has given birth to this piddling bladder’s spawn of hers, she feels she can ignore the rest of us, and:
Trample us into the mud.
That child of Li P’ing-erh’s lived for less than a year and a half and had not even come down with smallpox, measles, chicken pox, or rubella yet. Who knows what Heaven may have in store for her, yet her self-confidence is great enough to block out the sun.”
“Has her son developed smallpox, or not?” asked Auntie Hsüeh.
“No he hasn’t,” the woman responded. “After all, he’s not even a year old yet.”
“Ch’un-mei tells me,” said Auntie Hsüeh, “that when Father was alive he took his pleasure with her.”
“Took his pleasure with her indeed!” responded the woman. “That dead devil treated her as though she were as important to him as his vital organs.
She had but to say one thing,
The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei Page 19
