from the supervising secretaries and censors. As a result, an imperial edict has come down, ordering them to be remanded to the Three Judicial Offices for interrogation, and they have been sentenced to perpetual military servitude in areas suffering from poisonous miasmas.17 The grand preceptor’s son, Minister of Rites Ts’ai Yu, has been executed, and his property has been confiscated by the state. The three of us were forced to flee for our lives and made our way to my younger brother Han the Second’s place in Ch’ing-ho district, only to find that his house has been sold, and that he has fled to who knows where. The three of us, consequently, hired barges and traveled here on the canal, but we scarcely anticipated that we would run into you here.
Such good fortune would suffice for three lives.”
He then went on to ask, “Son-in-law, are you still a member of His Honor Hsi-men Ch’ing’s household?”
Ch’en Ching-chi explained the preceding events, saying, “I am no longer a member of his household but am serving as a counselor in the household of my cousin’s husband Commandant Chou Hsiu and have been granted the right to distinguish myself by wearing an official cap and girdle. At present, I am supporting myself by operating this tavern on the dock with the help of two managers. Since you have run into me, there is no reason for you to move out. It will not be a problem if you choose to reside here for a while. Please feel free to do as you like.”
The woman and Han Tao-kuo both kowtowed to him in gratitude and, after finishing their conversation, went back to moving their belongings off the barges.
As he looked on, Ch’en Ching-chi was moved to tell his servant Little Chiang and the “cribber” Ch’en the Third to help them move some of their things, at which Wang Liu-erh said, “There is no need, Son-in-law, for you to go to such trouble on our behalf.”
They were both pleased at this exchange, and Ch’en Ching-chi went on to say, “After all, you and I were originally members of the same household. What need is there to quibble about it?”
When Ch’en Ching-chi noticed that:
The light was beginning to wane,
and that it was about four o’clock in the afternoon, he decided to go home and told his managers to take care of supplying their new tenants with boxes of tea and goodies in the morning. He then mounted his horse and set out for home, accompanied by his servant. All night long:
His every thought and every consideration,18
was concentrated on Han Ai-chieh, whom he could not put out of his mind.
After spending a day at home, on the following day, he got up early, dressed himself appropriately, and returned to the tavern on the dock at Lin-ch’ing, accompanied by his servant Little Chiang, where he proceeded to look on for a while as his managers conducted their business.
Han Tao-kuo happened to send a servant over to invite him to come to their quarters for a serving of tea. Ch’en Ching-chi had been hoping for a chance to see Han Ai-chieh again, so when the servant arrived with his invitation, he promptly got up and went inside.
Lo and behold, Han Ai-chieh came out to meet him and greeted him with:
Such a smile you could have plucked it off her face;
bowing to him, and saying, “Sir, please come in and take a seat.”
Ch’en Ching-chi went into the chamber and sat down, while Han Tao-kuo and Wang Liu-erh came out to keep him company. It did not take them long to finish a serving of tea, as they chatted back and forth about their memories of the past. While this was going on, Ch’en Ching-chi gazed continually at Han Ai-chieh, while Ai-chieh’s pair of eyes, like autumn ripples, were fixed infatuatedly on Ch’en Ching-chi. It was clear that they both had the same idea in mind. There is a poem that testifies to this:
Her narrow and upturned shoe-tips are
formed of florid silk;
Her fragrant flesh and creamy breasts
resemble sculpted jade.
Her lovely person is hardly sustained
by her lissome waist;
A bosomful of unexpressed resentment
puckers her eyebrows.19
After a little while, Han Tao-kuo went outside, and Han Ai-chieh turned to Ch’en Ching-chi and asked, “Sir, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-five,” responded Ch’en Ching-chi. “May I make bold to ask, sister, how old are you?”
Han Ai-chieh smiled at this, and said, “Sir:
We must have been fated to meet.20
I, too, am twenty-five years old. We met each other as members of His Honor’s household in the past, and now we have been fortunate enough to meet again. Truly:
Those with affinities will meet though
separated by a thousand li.”
When Wang Liu-erh observed that the conversation between them had started to warm up, she sensed what was going on and made an excuse to go out herself, leaving the two of them sitting together face to face. Han Ai-chieh then resorted to the use of suggestive language in the endeavor to entice Ch’en Ching-chi. Ch’en Ching-chi, who had been familiar with such matters since his youth, could not fail to understand her intentions and started to get up and leave.
This Han Ai-chieh had colluded with her mother in plying this trade during their journey from the Eastern Capital; and while she had resided in the household of Grand Preceptor Ts’ai Ching, she had served as majordomo Chai Ch’ien’s concubine. When it came to poetry, lyrics, songs, or rhapsodies, as well as the works of the hundred schools, she was acquainted with them all, and there was little she was not familiar with.
Upon seeing Ch’en Ching-chi get up and prepare to go out, and observing that they were alone, she went up close to him and sat down, affecting the:
Coquetry and petulance of a spoiled child,
as she said, “Sir, let me take a look at that gold pin in your hair.”
Ch’en Ching-chi was about to pull it out for her, when Han Ai-chieh grasped the knot of hair on top of his head with her hand and pulled out the pin, whereupon she stood up and said, “Why don’t the two of us go upstairs and have a word together?”
As she spoke, on the one hand, and walked out, on the other, Ch’en Ching-chi felt compelled to follow her up the stairs. Truly:
Though you may be as devious as any demon,
You’ll drink the water she’s washed her feet in.
Ch’en Ching-chi followed her upstairs and then said, “Sister, what is it you want to say?”
Han Ai-chieh responded by saying, “You and I have:
A predestined affinity for each other.21
There is no need for you to pretend otherwise.
Let us share our fervor on pillow and mat,22
Enjoying the pleasures of connubial bliss.”
“I fear we may be discovered by the people here,” responded Ch’en Ching-chi. “That would never do.”
Han Ai-chieh, displaying a variety of voluptuous airs, hugged Ch’en Ching-chi around the waist and proceeded to pull down his trousers with her dainty jade-white hands. Both of them felt that:
Their lascivious excitement burned like fire,
And it proved utterly impossible to suppress.23
Han Ai-chieh felt driven to take off her clothes and recline face-up on the bed, where they proceeded to engage in intercourse with each other. Truly:
With lustful daring as big as the sky,
what is there to fear?
Amid mandarin duck curtains the clouds and rain:
a lifetime of passion.
In the course of their engagement, Ch’en Ching-chi asked, “What number are you known by?”
“I was born on the Dragon Boat Festival on the fifth day of the fifth month,” responded Han Ai-chieh, “so I am known as Han the Fifth, but my personal name is Ai-chieh.”
In no time at all, after:
The clouds dispersed and the rain evaporated,
they sat down next to each other, and Han Ai-chieh proceeded to say to Ch’en Ching-chi, “Ever since the time that the three of us fled from the Eastern Capital but were unable to locat
e our relatives, we have been short of living expenses. If you have the silver on hand, I beg you to lend five taels to my father. I will take the responsibility to repay you with interest. Pray don’t refuse this request.”
Han Ai-chieh Entertains Her Lover in an Ornate Bordello
Ch’en Ching-chi agreed to her request, saying, “That’s no problem. You have but to open your mouth, and I will weigh out five taels of silver for you.”
When Han Ai-chieh saw that he had agreed, she returned his gold pin to him, and the two of them then went on to sit together for what seemed like half a day.
Fearing that they might be subject to gossip, they drank a serving of tea, and Han Ai-chieh invited him to have lunch with her, but Ch’en Ching-chi said, “I’ve got something to do elsewhere, so I won’t eat anything, but I’ll send you the money you asked for in a little while.”
Han Ai-chieh went on to say, “This afternoon, I will prepare a meager cup of watery wine to share with you. Pray don’t refuse my invitation, sir, but come back to see me, no matter what.”
When Ch’en Ching-chi had eaten lunch in the tavern’s office, he took a casual stroll in the street and happened to run into his former fellow disciple from the Yen-kung Temple, Chin Tsung-ming, whom he greeted with a bow and regaled with the story of his subsequent adventures.
“Worthy brother,” responded Chin Tsung-ming, “I did not know that you had been acknowledged as a relative by the household of His Honor Commandant Chou Hsiu, or that you had opened a thriving business in that tavern.
I have been remiss in not coming to pay my respects.24
Tomorrow, I will send a junior disciple to deliver a gift of tea to you. Please come to the temple for a visit when you have the time to do so.”
Upon finishing their conversation, Chin Tsung-ming went back to the temple.
When Ch’en Ching-chi returned to the tavern, Manager Lu Ping-i reported to him, “That fellow named Han who is residing here has invited you for a drink, but I didn’t know where to find you.”
By a lucky coincidence, Han Tao-kuo’s servant happened to come back at this point and said, “You are invited, sir, and your two managers are invited as well to keep you company. There are no other guests.”
Ch’en Ching-chi, along with his two managers, then proceeded to go into their room, where a repast had already been neatly laid out, consisting of fish, pork, vegetables, fruits, and the like. Ch’en Ching-chi sat down in the place of honor, while Han Tao-kuo assumed the position of host, and Lu Ping-i and Fatty Hsieh were seated to either side. Wang Liu-erh and Han Ai-chieh sat down respectfully on the sidelines, while their servant came back and forth to serve the wine and refreshments.
After drinking a few cups of wine, the two managers, sensing what was afoot, said, “Sir, pray continue to drink at your leisure. The two of us will go back and man the counter.”
So saying, they got up and left.
Ch’en Ching-chi was not accustomed to drinking heavily, but when he saw that the managers had left, he relaxed and downed another few cups of wine with the three members of the Han family, until he began to feel somewhat intoxicated.
Han Ai-chieh then ventured to say to him, “Sir, today there is no need for you to go home.”
“It is already too late for me to return home by now,” said Ch’en Ching-chi. “I might as well go home tomorrow.”
When Wang Liu-erh and Han Tao-kuo had drunk with them for a while, they went downstairs, and Ch’en Ching-chi then pulled five taels of silver out of his sleeve and presented it to Han Ai-chieh, who went down and turned it over to Wang Liu-erh, before coming back upstairs. What with:
The sharing of glasses and passing of cups,
Hugging the turquoise and cuddling the red,
they then continued drinking together until the evening fell, at which point Han Ai-chieh:
Divested herself of her fancy attire,25
and invited Ch’en Ching-chi to spend the night with her in her upstairs room. On this occasion, what with:
Oaths by the pillowside to be faithful as the hills,
Promises under the quilts to be as true as the seas;
Giving forth oriole’s notes and swallow’s cries,
They enjoyed to the full their mutual affection;26
But it is impossible to evoke all that they did.27
When Han Ai-chieh had gone to the Eastern Capital, where she resided in the household of Grand Preceptor Ts’ai Ching and waited upon his elderly wife, she had learned to play musical instruments and sing, and also acquired the ability to read and write. Upon hearing about this, Ch’en Ching-chi:
Felt unable to constrain his pleasure,28
and found himself as attracted to her, as he had been to P’an Chin-lien. Consequently, the two of them proceeded to:
Frolic together the whole evening,29
And sleep together all night long.
As a result, they could not avoid sleeping until late the next day and did not get up until lunchtime, when Wang Liu-erh made a pick-me-up for them, containing eggs and pork meatballs, which the two of them consumed, along with several cups of warmed wine.
In a little while, one of his managers came in and invited Ch’en Ching-chi to join them for lunch, whereupon he put on his hairnet, performed his ablutions, got dressed, and went out to eat with them. When he had finished his meal, he came back to take leave of Han Ai-chieh before heading back home, but she did not want to let him go and made a show of shedding tears.
Ch’en Ching-chi responded by saying, “After I get home, I’ll come to see you every three or five days. There’s no reason for you to get upset.”
When he had finished speaking, he mounted his horse and headed back to the city of Ch’ing-ho, accompanied by his servant.
Along the way, he said to Little Chiang, “When we get home you must not say anything about the Han family.”
“I understand,” responded Little Chiang. “There is no need for you to admonish me.”
Upon arriving back at the commandant’s residence, Ch’en Ching-chi claimed that business was so brisk at the tavern that by the time he had finished reckoning up the accounts it was too late to come home, so he had stayed overnight. He then handed over to Ch’un-mei the thirty-some taels of silver in the form of profits that had been realized since his last trip before going back to his own quarters.
When he arrived there, he was taken to task by Ko Ts’ui-p’ing, who said, “What reason did you have for staying away overnight, unless you were out exploring:
The willow paths and flower lanes,30
of the licensed quarter? You left me at home, all by myself in an empty room, without a thought for returning home.”
Thereafter, she insisted on keeping Ch’en Ching-chi at home for seven or eight days in a row, without letting him return to the dock at Lin-ch’ing. For her part, Han Ai-chieh noticed that he did not return for some time but merely sent Little Chiang to collect the profits from the managers, who wrapped up the silver for him to take home.
As a consequence, Han Tao-kuo felt obliged to have his wife, Wang Liu-erh, entice familiar customers or traveling merchants into their quarters to drink tea or wine. For some time, Han Tao-kuo had enjoyed the convenience of being dependent upon his wife for his livelihood. Moreover, though Wang Liu-erh was forty-five or forty-six years old, and could be said to be middle-aged, she still retained her charm. And now they were lucky enough to have this daughter, who was prepared to take her place, so that the business that was the source of their livelihood would not be interrupted, and they could continue to practice it in the open.
It so happens that when people without any official position, or other source of livelihood, depended on their wives for their support, the latter were known as clandestine harlots, or what are now known as unlicensed prostitutes.
At this time, when Ch’en Ching-chi failed to show up, the wine steward Ch’en the Third arranged for the silk merchant Magnate Ho to patronize Han Ai-chieh. This Magnate Ho, who
was about fifty years old and had a thousand taels worth of silk and other piece goods at his disposal, was quite willing to patronize her, but Han Ai-chieh, who was still infatuated with Ch’en Ching-chi, claimed that she was feeling out of sorts and refused:
On three times and five occasions,31
to come downstairs, which Han Tao-kuo found extremely annoying. But when Magnate Ho observed that Wang Liu-erh was tall of stature, with a rosewood complexion; had a face shaped like a melon seed:
Painted her eyebrows and dressed her hair,32
so that she displayed long spit curls; possessed a seductive pair of starry eyes:
The glint in which suggested intoxication;
and that her lips were daubed bright red, he surmised that she must be a past master at amorous liaisons; offered a tael of silver for the privilege of sharing a drink in her quarters; and ended up spending the night with her. Han Tao-kuo kept out of the way by sleeping in an outer chamber, while his daughter, Han Ai-chieh, on seeing that her mother was entertaining a customer, remained on the upper floor, without coming down.
From this time on, Magnate Ho was rendered so happy by Wang Liu-erh that the two of them were:
As hot for each other as burning charcoal;
and he did not let more than two or three days go by without coming to spend the night with her. Han Tao-kuo, for his part, was thus able to pocket no small amount of his money.
When Han Ai-chieh saw that Ch’en Ching-chi had not come back to see her for more than ten days, she longed for him so that:
Each day was like three months of autumn;
Each night seemed like half a summer.
She couldn’t help feeling affected by:
The eye alongside the wood, and
The heart beneath the field.33
She therefore sent their servant to the commandant’s residence in the city to find out what was going on.
Upon encountering Ch’en Ching-chi’s servant Little Chiang, he confidentially inquired, “Why has your master not gone to see her?”
“For the last few days,” responded Little Chiang, “he has been feeling out of sorts and has not ventured outside.”
The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei Page 54
