The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei

by Roy, David Tod

  He then conducted Ch’en Ching-chi into the reception hall of the prefectural yamen where they exchanged the customary amenities.

  After they had assumed their positions as guest and host, he said, “How is it that, the other day, at our wedding ceremony, I did not see you, Brother-in-law?”

  “I have been away for the past year,” responded Ch’en Ching-chi, “and have only just returned from a purchasing expedition to Szechwan and the Hu-Kuang region, so I did not know that my elder sister had married into your family. I am guilty of losing touch with her, but today I have respectfully prepared some meager gifts and have come to call on my sister.”

  “I did not know anything about you in the past,” explained the young squire. “I apologize for my neglect. Forgive me. Forgive me.”

  A little later, after they had consumed a serving of tea, the young squire ordered his attendants to take the list of gifts and the presents inside and tell their mistress that her brother Meng the Second was there.

  Meng Yü-lou, who was sitting in her room at the time, heard the gatekeeper come in and announce that Meng the Second was there.

  “He hasn’t returned home for the last year or two,” she said. “Who else could it be? It must be that my brother, Meng Jui, has finally come home and has taken the trouble to traverse:

  A thousand mountains and a myriad streams,

  in order to come and see me.”

  When she saw that a servant had brought in the presents, along with a gift card that was signed, “Your relative, Meng Jui,” she knew it must be her younger brother and said, “Invite him to come in.”

  After ordering Lan-hsiang to straighten up the rear reception room, Meng Yü-lou dressed herself up and prepared to come out and welcome him. When the young squire ushered him into the reception room, Meng Yü-lou was standing on the other side of the hanging screen looking into the interior, but:

  Strange as it may seem,

  it turned out not to be her brother, but Ch’en Ching-chi.

  “I wonder what he is doing here?” she asked herself. “I’d better go out and see what he has to say. As the saying goes:

  Whether a kinsman or not,

  He is from my home place;

  Whether palatable or not,

  It is water from my home.19

  Even though he is no brother of mine, he is my son-in-law.”

  So saying, she straightened her attire and came out to greet him.

  “I did not know that you had married into this household,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “so I have failed to call upon you.”

  Unexpectedly, while he was still uttering these words, the gatekeeper came in and informed the young squire that there was a guest waiting to see him outside.

  “Pray entertain my brother-in-law,” the young squire said to Meng Yü-lou, as he went out to meet his guest.

  When Meng Yü-lou observed that Ch’en Ching-chi was about to kowtow to her, she hastily bowed in return, saying, “Son-in-law, you can skip the obeisance. What wind has blown you here?”

  After they had exchanged the customary amenities, she offered him a seat and called for Lan-hsiang to bring out a serving of tea. When they had finished their tea, the two of them engaged in small talk together.

  “How is Hsi-men Ta-chieh?” Meng Yü-lou asked.

  Ch’en Ching-chi then proceeded to tell Meng Yü-lou all about how they had been forced to leave Hsi-men Ch’ing’s household, and how he had tried to recover the trunks of valuables that his family had originally deposited there. Meng Yü-lou also told him about how they had visited the ancestral graveyard on the Ch’ing-ming Festival, and how they had encountered Ch’un-mei at the Temple of Eternal Felicity, where she had gone to burn paper money at Chin-lien’s grave site.

  She also went on to say, “When I was still in the Hsi-men household, I constantly admonished the First Lady, saying, ‘If you love your daughter, you should also love her husband. He is your own son-in-law, after all; it is not as though you are supporting a stranger.’ But she believed the slander that petty people purveyed to her and consequently drove you out of the household. As for your later request to recover the trunks your family had entrusted to them, I know nothing about that.”

  “I will not attempt to deceive you,” Ch’en Ching-chi said. “It is true that I was carrying on an affair with Sister Six, as everyone knew. But when the First Lady heard about it from those slaves of hers and drove her out of the household, she ended up being murdered by Wu Sung. If she had been allowed to remain in the household, that Wu Sung, even if he had possessed:

  Seven heads and eight galls,

  would never have dared to break into the household and kill her. My enmity for the First Lady is as deep as the sea, and Sister Six, though dead in the Underworld, will also never forgive her.”

  “Enough of that,” objected Meng Yü-lou. “It’s something you can’t do anything about. It has always been true that:

  It is better to resolve an enmity

  than to contract one.”20

  As they were talking, a maidservant set up a table, and put out wine, cups, and an assortment of delicacies until its entire surface was filled.

  Meng Yü-lou then poured out a cup of wine and proffered it to Ch’en Ching-chi, saying, “Son-in-law, you have exposed yourself to:

  The wind and dust of a long journey,21

  and gratuitously expended a considerable sum on me. Please accept this meager cup of watery wine.”

  Ch’en Ching-chi took the cup in his hand, bowed to her, and poured out another cup of wine to proffer to her in return. After she expressed her gratitude, they sat down together.

  Upon noticing that the woman insisted on addressing him as Son-in-law:

  From his mouth no word was uttered, but

  In his heart he thought to himself,

  “How is it that this whore refuses to recognize her vulnerability, but persists in addressing me as Son-in-law? I’d better sound her out gradually.”

  At the juncture, when:

  Three rounds of wine had been consumed, and

  Five courses of food had been provided,

  the two of them continued:

  Talking back and forth,

  until the conversation started to warm up. By this time Ch’en Ching-chi’s face was flushed with wine. As the saying goes:

  The passions born of wine are

  as deep as the sea;

  Giving rise to lustful daring

  as big as the sky.22

  Seeing that no one else was present, Ch’en Ching-chi dropped several lines of suggestive language, saying, “Sister, your younger brother yearns for you:

  Like a thirsty person longing for drink;

  Like a parched person longing for coolness.

  I remember, when I was residing in my father-in-law’s household, how the two of us used to enjoy board games together, and play at dominoes, sitting across from each other, and feeling connected as intimately as the carapace to the turtle. Who could have guessed that today:

  We would be apart from each other;23

  You to the east and I to the west?”

  Meng Yü-lou laughed at this, saying, “Son-in-law, that’s a fine way to talk! It has always been true that:

  The clear is ever clear,

  The turbid ever turbid;

  As in time will be seen.”

  Ch’en Ching-chi responded with an ingratiating smile, groped out of his sleeve a package containing lozenges of fragrant tea in the shape of embracing couples, and gave it to the woman, saying, “Sister, if you have any feeling for me, take pity on your younger brother, and agree to consume this fragrant tea.”

  So saying, he proceeded to kneel down in front of her. As for the woman:

  A spot of red appeared beside each ear,

  and the blood flew to her cheeks.

  Taking the package of fragrant tea in her hand, she threw it onto the floor, saying:

  “You wouldn’t know a favor if you saw one.

 
I proffered wine to you with the best of intentions, and you turn around and play games with me this way.”

  So saying, she started to leave the table and head back to her room.

  When Ch’en Ching-chi realized that she was not rising to his bait, he picked up the package of fragrant tea and called after her, saying, “I came to see you with the best of intentions, but you have apparently changed your mind about me. I dare say you think now that you have married a fine young man who is the son of an assistant prefect, you need not pay any attention to me; as though you never engaged in hanky-panky with me when you were the third concubine in Hsi-men Ch’ing’s household.”

  He then reached into his sleeve, pulled out the gold-plated silver hairpin that he had formerly picked up, and held it in his hand, saying, “Who does this object belong to? If you never had sexual relations with me, how did this pin of yours ever fall into my hands? Your name is actually engraved on it. You and the First Lady have been in cahoots to divide up the eight trunkloads of gold and silver, and other valuables, including jade girdles, jewels, and the like, that belonged to Yang Chien at court, and were deposited with you to avoid confiscation at the time of his impeachment, and have brought your share of them with you upon marrying your new husband. Never you fear, when we appear in court I’ll have something to say to you.”

  When Meng Yü-lou heard his accusation and realized that the hairpin he held really was the gold-plated hairpin in the shape of a lotus petal that she had worn on her head, but had lost in the garden on a former occasion, she wondered to herself, “How could it ever have fallen into the hands of this short-life?”

  Fearing that if she made a fuss about it the servants might overhear them, she promptly put on an ingratiating smile, came back inside, and took Ch’en Ching-chi by the hand, saying, “My good son-in-law, I was only kidding. There’s no reason to get so upset.”

  Seeing that:

  There was nobody about,

  she murmured softly:

  “If you’ve got a mind to it,

  I’ve got the will.”

  The two of them then:

  Without permitting any further explanation,

  fell to embracing each other and kissing.

  Ch’en Ching-chi:

  Like a snake devouring a swallow,

  stuck his tongue into her mouth and told her to suck it, saying, “Call me your darling son-in-law. Only then will I believe that you really care for me.”

  “Keep it quiet,” the woman said. “I fear that someone may overhear us.”

  Ch’en Ching-chi then whispered to her, saying, “I have bought half a boatload of merchandise which is waiting for me at the dock in Ch’ing-chiang P’u. If you deign to give yourself to me, thus and so, this evening, you can disguise yourself as a gatekeeper, surreptitiously make your way outside, and come home with me on the boat, so we can become man and wife. There is nothing unfeasible about such a scheme. Your father-in-law is only a civil official, after all, and will seek to avoid trouble. He is scarcely likely to take the risk of trying to pursue or arrest you.”

  “In that case,” the woman said, “so be it. Let us agree that tonight you will wait outside the rear wall of the yamen. I will let a bundle of gold and silver and other valuables down to you by a rope over the wall and then disguise myself as a gatekeeper, make my way outside, and go to embark on the boat with you.”

  Gentle reader take note: Truly:

  If a beauty is well disposed,24

  Not even a barrier a myriad feet in height

  will serve to deter her;

  If a woman is ill disposed,25

  Though seated next to one, she is separated

  by a thousand mountains.

  If Meng Yü-lou had married a fool who was not the equal of Ch’en Ching-chi, this scheme of his might well have succeeded; but she had married the young squire Li Kung-pi, who had the prospect of a promising career before him and was also:

  A man of romantic and engaging qualities,26

  still in the springtime of his youth, whose:

  Loving devotion could hardly be surpassed.27

  Under these circumstances, how could he ever have thought he could seduce her? Aside from the fact that the two of them had not had any relationship in the past, the young gentleman was simply bound to fail in his endeavor. Having told the truth, and revealed his plans to her, he opened himself up to being deceived by the woman.

  Truly:

  Flowering branches, beneath their leaves,

  conceal their thorns;

  How can one ever be sure the human heart

  contains no poison?

  At this juncture, after the two of them had consulted together for a while, and Ch’en Ching-chi had downed several cups of wine, he said good-bye and prepared to leave. Li Kung-pi, forthwith, escorted him to the gate of the yamen and saw him off, with Ch’en An following in his wake.

  Li Kung-pi then asked Meng Yü-lou, “Do you know where your brother is staying? I will go tomorrow to pay him a return call and give him some gifts for the road.”

  “Since when is he any brother of mine?” responded Meng Yü-lou. “He is Hsi-men Ch’ing’s son-in-law and has come with the intention, thus and so, of inveigling me into absconding with him. I have already arranged for him to wait outside the rear wall of the yamen at the third watch tonight, in order to:

  Counteract his plot with one of my own,28

  so we can have him arrested as a thief, and thereby eliminate any further trouble from him. What do you think?”

  “How can that rascal act so outrageously?” the young squire responded. “It has always been true that:

  He who lacks ruthlessness is not a hero.

  It is not I who have sought him out,

  He is seeking to find his own death.”29

  So saying, he strode outside, called together a few trusted attendants, and instructed them, thus and so, on the preparations he wished them to make.

  Meanwhile, Ch’en Ching-chi, who was quite unaware of the counterplot he was up against, during:

  The third watch in the middle of the night,

  actually proceeded to take his servant Ch’en An with him, stand outside the rear wall of the prefectural yamen, and signal his presence with a cough. Meng Yü-lou coughed in response and then threw a length of rope with a large bundle of silver attached to the end of it over the wall to him. This silver consisted of two hundred taels that had been taken from the prefectural depository for money confiscated from criminals and levied in fines.

  Ch’en Ching-chi was about to tell Ch’en An to pick it up and get out of the way when:

  The sound of a watchman’s clapper was heard,30

  and four or five men suddenly appeared out of the dark shadows, calling out, “Thief! Thief!”

  Ch’en Ching-chi Is Entrapped in Yen-chou Prefecture

  In no time at all, they bound Ch’en Ching-chi and Ch’en An and reported the event to Assistant Prefect Li Ch’ang-ch’i, who ordered that they be incarcerated in the jail and brought before the bench the following morning.

  It so happens that the presiding prefect of Yen-chou was a man named Hsü Feng, who was a native of Lin-t’ao prefecture in Shensi province, had passed the chin-shih examination in the year 1070 and was a man of absolute integrity and uprightness.

  The next morning, he took his place on the bench, with two rows of lesser officials standing to either side, while Assistant Prefect Li Ch’ang-ch’i took the formal roll call, and the keeper of the repository reported on the theft, bringing Ch’en Ching-chi with him, and announcing, “Last night, during the third watch, the two initially unknown but now identified culprits Ch’en Ching-chi and Ch’en An broke open the lock to the repository, stole two hundred taels worth of the money confiscated from criminals, climbed over the wall, and attempted to escape but were apprehended and are now ready to be brought before Your Honor.”

  Prefect Hsü Feng ordered that they be brought forward, and Ch’en Ching-chi and Ch’en An were
, accordingly, hustled into the courtroom and made to kneel before the bench.

  When the prefect saw that Ch’en Ching-chi was young and had a naturally clear-cut appearance, he questioned him, saying, “Where does this rascal come from, and why should he have come to this prefectural yamen of mine during the night, and stolen this amount of money confiscated from criminals from the government repository? What does he have to say for himself?”

  Ch’en Ching-chi merely responded by kowtowing and protesting that he was being treated unjustly.

  “Since you are guilty of larceny,” said Prefect Hsü, “how can you claim to be treated unjustly?”

  Assistant Prefect Li Ch’ang-ch’i bowed respectfully at his side and said, “Venerable sir, there is no reason for any further interrogation. The material evidence is before our eyes. Why do you not subject them to punishment?”

  Prefect Hsü then ordered his subordinates to take them down and give them a flogging of twenty strokes with the bamboo.

  Assistant Prefect Li remarked:

  “Man is a miserable creature;

  Unless you beat him he’ll never confess.

  Otherwise these thieves will try to wriggle out of it.”

  Thereupon, the lictors standing to either side took hold of Ch’en Ching-chi and Ch’en An, turned them over, and began to beat them with the heavy bamboo.

  Ch’en Ching-chi’s only response was to curse, saying, “Who could have anticipated that that whore, Meng the Third, would try to ensnare me this way? It is unjust! It is bitter!”

  Prefect Hsü Feng was an official with considerable experience in his prefectural office, and on hearing these cries, he thought to himself, “There must be something behind this.”

  After only ten strokes of the bamboo had been administered, he called out to the lictors, “That’s enough for now. Take them back to the lockup, and we can continue the interrogation tomorrow.”

  Assistant Prefect Li Ch’ang-ch’i responded to this by saying, “Venerable sir, you ought not to let them off so easily. As the saying goes:

  The human heart may be as hard as steel;

  But legal prosecution is like a furnace.31