The Debt of Tears

by Cao Xueqin

  Her eyes were a tell-tale red.

  ‘Oh Miss! You’re imagining things!’ protested Nightingale. ‘You’re Her Old Ladyship’s own granddaughter, the apple of her eye. A chance to serve you is something people compete for, not grumble about.’

  Dai-yu nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘By the way,’ she asked, ‘is that Fivey you mentioned the one who used to be friendly with Parfumée when she was at Master Bao’s place?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Didn’t I hear that she might be going into service at Master Bao’s herself?’

  ‘Yes, she was. Then she fell ill, and by the time she was better again and ready to start, there was all that trouble over Skybright, and it had to be put off.’

  ‘I’ve always liked the look of her, said Dai-yu.

  Meanwhile a serving-woman had arrived with the soup, and Snowgoose went out to fetch it.

  ‘Cook Liu says to tell Miss Lin this one’s been specially cooked in her room by her Fivey,’ said the old woman, ‘so she won’t need to fuss about its not being clean.’

  Snowgoose said she would relay this message and carried the soup into the room. Dai-yu, however, had already heard their conversation, and told Snowgoose to go back at once and ask the woman to thank Mrs Liu on her return. Snowgoose did this, and the old woman went on her way.

  Snowgoose now laid out Dai-yu’s bowl and chopsticks on the table.

  ‘Would you like some of that dried turnip slaw we brought with us from the South, Miss, if I mix a little sesame-oil and vinegar dressing with it?’

  ‘If you like. But don’t go to too much trouble.’

  Snowgoose filled her bowl with congee. Dai-yu ate half and drank a couple of spoonfuls of the soup. She put down her spoon, and the two maids cleared away the things and cleaned the little table, which they then removed and replaced with the one that usually stood there. Dai-yu rinsed her mouth and washed her hands.

  ‘Nightingale, have you put some incense on the brazier?’

  ‘I was just going to, Miss.

  ‘You and Snowgoose have some of the soup and congee. They’re good and wholesome. I’ll see to the incense.’

  The maids went into the outer room to eat. Dai-yu put some more incense on the brazier and sat down again. She was about to pick up a book to read when her attention was caught by the melancholy soughing of the wind through the trees outside. A long sigh swept from one end of the Garden to the other. The metal wind-chimes started jangling under the eaves.

  Snowgoose was the first to finish her soup, and came in to see if there was anything Dai-yu needed.

  ‘It’s turning colder,’ said Dai-yu. ‘Have those fur clothes had a proper airing yet – the ones I asked you to take out the other day?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  ‘Bring them here, will you? I’d like something warm to put over my shoulders.’

  Snowgoose went out and returned with a bundle of fur-lined clothes, wrapped in a piece of felt. She undid the wrapper and held the clothes out for Dai-yu to choose from. Dai-yu noticed among the clothes another smaller bundle wrapped in silk. She reached out a hand to pick it up, and untied the wrapper. Inside she found a pair of silk handkerchiefs. She recognized them at once as the ones Bao-yu had secretly sent her during his convalescence! There were the verses she had written on them! Even the tear-stains could still be seen! And next to them in the little bundle were the perfumed sachet she had embroidered for him (and half-demolished in a fit of pique), the torn fan-case, and the snipped remains of the silken cord she had made for his Magic Jade. Nightingale, in sorting out the clothes for airing, must have come across these mementos in one of the chests, and slipped them into this bundle for safety. Dai-yu seemed to have forgotten Snowgoose and the clothes entirely. She stood with the handkerchiefs in her hands and stared at them as though entranced. As she read the verses tears began to stream down her cheeks.

  Nightingale came in, to find Snowgoose standing there dumbly, with the felt-wrapped bundle of clothes still held out in front of her, while spread on the little table at Dai-yu’s side were the sachet, fan-case and cord . Dai-yu was holding two faded handkerchiefs with some writing on them, and was gazing at them in tears. As the poet says:

  Tokens of past estrangement

  Catch the lover’s eye;

  Fresh tears fall

  On tears of days gone by.

  Nightingale knew only too well the tender memories attached to each one of those objects. She thought that sympathy would have little chance of success as a remedy, and decided instead to administer a cheerful rebuke.

  ‘Come along now, Miss, what’s the sense in looking at things like that? They belong to the past. You and Master Bao were children then. Goodness knows how many silly tiffs you had! All smiles one minute, crying your hearts out the next. Thank goodness you’re both older and have learned to take life a bit more seriously. You wouldn’t dream of spoiling pretty things like these now would you?’

  She had meant well. But her words only reminded Dai-yu of the old days with Bao-yu, and released a fresh flood of tears. Nightingale tried again to cheer her up:

  ‘Come on now, Miss. Snowgoose is waiting. Please choose something to wear.’

  Dai-yu let the handkerchiefs drop. Nightingale swiftly retrieved them, wrapped them up again with the sachet and the other things, and put them away.

  Finally Dai-yu draped one of the fur-lined jackets over her shoulders and walked listlessly to the outer-room. She sat down, and looking round saw Bao-chai’s poem and letter still lying on the table. She picked them up and reread them a couple of times.

  ‘The feeling’s the same,’ she said to herself with a sigh, ‘even if our circumstances are different. I should write something in reply. I’ll write four stanzas and set them to an air for the Qin. Then tomorrow I can make a copy and send it to Chai.’

  She told Snowgoose to bring in her brush and inkstone, which were on the table outside, and moistening the ink, began to write. When she had completed four stanzas, she took a Qin Handbook from her shelf and looked through it. She decided to make a suite out of the two old melodies, Lonely Orchid Pavan and Saintly Virtue. Having done the pointing, she wrote out a copy of the words there and then to send to Bao-chai, and asked Snowgoose to fetch the three-quarter size Qin she had brought from home, which was stored in a trunk. She tuned the strings and did a few preliminary finger-exercises. Her natural aptitude compensated for her lack of practice, and it was not long before all that she had learnt as a child came back to her. After playing for a while, seeing that it was already late in the night, she told Snowgoose to put away the Qin, and went to bed. And so we must leave her.

  *

  One day Bao-yu, after completing his toilet, set off as usual with Tealeaf to go to school. On their way they encountered Inky, another of his page-boys, who came bounding up to them with a broad grin on his face and announced:

  ‘Good news, Master Bao! The Preceptor’s not at school today, and you’ve all been given the day off!’

  ‘Are you being serious?’ asked Bao-yu.

  ‘If you don’t believe me, take a look: isn’t that Master Huan and Young Master Lan on their way back now?’

  Bao-yu looked and sure enough there were his half-brother and young nephew coming towards him with their contingent of pages, chatting away and giggling, though he could not catch what it was they were saying. When they saw him, they halted and stood with their arms respectfully at their sides.

  ‘Why have you come back from school so soon?’ Bao-yu asked them.

  ‘The Preceptor is busy today,’ replied Huan, ‘and says we can all have the day off. We’re to attend as usual tomorrow.’

  Hearing this, Bao-yu turned about and, having reported the news to Grandmother Jia and his father, returned to Green Delights.

  ‘Why are you back?’ asked Aroma.

  He told her what had happened, and after sitting with her for a minute or two made a move to go out again.

  ‘
Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ she asked. ‘If you’ve been given the day off school, that doesn’t mean you have to go charging about. You ought to make it a day of rest.’

  Bao-yu stopped in his tracks and hung his head.

  ‘I know you’re right. But when will I next have a chance to get out and have some fun? Be a sport…’

  He said this in such an appealing tone of voice that Aroma relented.

  ‘All right,’ she said with a smile.

  Meanwhile lunch had been brought in, and he had to stay and eat it. He bolted it down, rinsed his mouth and was off. Fast as a puff of smoke he sped to the Naiad’s House. He found Nightingale in the courtyard hanging handkerchiefs out to dry.

  ‘Has Miss Lin had her lunch yet?’ he asked.

  ‘She had half a bowl of congee earlier on,’ replied Nightingale, ‘but wasn’t feeling very hungry. She’s sleeping at the moment. You’d better go somewhere else just now, Master Bao, and come back a bit later.’

  He left reluctantly, not knowing quite where to go. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had not seen Xi-chun for several days, and he began strolling in the direction of Smartweed Loggia. When he reached the courtyard and stood by one of the windows, it all seemed very quiet and deserted. She too, he concluded, was having her nap and not to be disturbed. He was about to leave when he heard a faint sound coming from inside, too faint to identify. He stood still and listened again, in the hope of hearing it more clearly. There it was! A distinct little tap! He was still trying to think what it could be, when a voice said:

  ‘Why have you made that move, and not countered there?’

  It was a game of Go! But Bao-yu did not have time to recognize the voice of the speaker. He heard Xi-chun reply:

  ‘Why should I bother? If you take me there, I shall simply counter here, and if you take me again I shall take you again. I shall still be one move ahead, and in the end I shall be able to connect.’

  ‘And what if I take you here?’

  ‘Aiyo!’ exclaimed Xi-chun. ‘You had an inside counterattack up your sleeve. I’m defenceless.’

  That other girl’s voice was so familiar! But he still couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t one of his cousins, he was sure of that. And yet Xi-chun was unlikely to be entertaining an outsider. Lifting the door-curtain very gently aside, he peeped in. The Go-partner was none other than the nun from Green Bower Hermitage, the Dweller Beyond The Threshold, Adamantina. He dared not intrude any further. The girls were totally absorbed in their game, and had neither of them noticed that they were being spied upon. Bao-yu continued to stand there and watch. Adamantina leant low over the board and said to Xi-chun:

  ‘Do you want to lose that whole corner?’

  ‘Of course not! It’s perfectly safe. All those pieces of yours are “dead”, aren’t they?’

  ‘Are you sure? Go ahead and try.’

  ‘All right. There’s my move. Now let’s see what you can do.’

  A smile crossed Adamantina’s face. She placed her next piece to link up with one she already had on the edge of the board, and then pounced on one of Xi-chun’s pieces and annihilated her entire corner. She laughed:

  ‘That’s called “Pulling Your Boots Off Upside Down”!’

  Before Xi-chun had time to reply, their unobserved observer, unable to contain himself any longer, burst out laughing. The two girls were startled out of their wits.

  ‘What do you mean by sneaking in here without saying a word?’ exclaimed Xi-chun. ‘What an ill-mannered way to behave, honestly! How long have you been there?’

  ‘I came in just as you started to play for that corner. I had to watch it out.’

  He bowed to Adamantina.

  ‘Greetings, Reverend Sister!’ he said with a smile. ‘Wherefore this rare excursion from the mystic portals of Zen? What karma brings thee to Maya’s dusty realm?’

  She blushed from ear to ear, said nothing, lowered her head and stared at the Go-board. Bao-yu could see that he had embarrassed her, and tried to make up for it.

  ‘Seriously,’ he said, with a charming smile, ‘how can common mortals compare with those who, like you, have renounced the world? In the first place, you have achieved inner peace. And with that peace comes a deep spirituality. And with that spirituality a clear insight…’

  As he was speaking, Adamantina lifted her eyes a fraction and glanced at him. She looked down again at once, and a deep flush spread slowly across her face. Bao-yu realized that she was deliberately trying to ignore him, and sat down awkwardly beside the table. Xi-chun wanted to continue the game, but after a silence Adamantina said:

  ‘Let’s play another day.’

  Having said this, she stood up, straightened out her dress and sat down again. Then, turning to Bao-yu, she asked, in a zany tone of voice:

  ‘Where have you come from?’

  It came as a great relief to Bao-yu that she should speak to him at all, and he was grateful of the chance to remedy his earlier blunder. But then it suddenly struck him that her question might not be as straightforward as it sounded. Was this one of her Zen subtleties? He sat there tongue-tied and red in the face. Adamantina smiled and turned to talk to Xi-chun. Xi-chun smiled too.

  ‘Cousin Bao,’ she said, ‘what’s so hard about that? Haven’t you heard the saying “I come from whence I come”? To judge by the colour of your face anyone would think you were among strangers. Don’t be shy!’

  Adamantina seemed to take this banter personally. She experienced a strange stirring of emotion, and her face grew hot. She knew she must be blushing again, and became extremely flustered. Rising to her feet, she said:

  ‘I’ve been here a long time. I think I should be making my way back to the Hermitage.’

  Xi-chun knew the peculiarity of Adamantina’s temperament and did not press her to stay. She was showing her out, when Adamantina gave a little laugh and said:

  ‘It’s so long since I’ve been to see you, and the way home is so full of twists and turns. I’m afraid of losing my way.’

  ‘Pray allow me to be your guide!’ volunteered Bao-yu promptly.

  ‘I would be greatly honoured,’ she replied. ‘Please go ahead, Master Bao.’

  The two of them said goodbye to Xi-chun and walked out of Smartweed Loggia. Their winding path led them near the Naiad’s House, and as they approached they heard strains of music in the air.

  ‘That’s a Qin,’ said Adamantina. ‘Where could it be coming from, I wonder?’

  ‘It must be Cousin Lin playing in her room,’ replied Bao-yu.

  ‘Really? Is that another of her accomplishments? I’ve never heard her mention it.’

  Bao-yu repeated what Dai-yu had told him.

  ‘Shall we go and watch?’ he suggested.

  ‘You mean listen, I suppose?’ said Adamantina. ‘One listens to the Qin. One never watches.’

  ‘There you are!’ said Bao-yu with a grin. ‘I said I was a common sort of mortal.’

  They had now reached a rockery close to the Naiad’s House. They sat down and listened in silence, touched by the poignancy of the melody. Then a murmuring voice began to chant:

  ‘Autumn deepens, and with it

  the wind’s bitter moan.

  My love is far away;

  I mourn alone.

  Gazing in vain

  For a glimpse of home,

  I stand at my balcony.

  Tears bedew my gown.’

  After a brief pause, the chant began again:

  ‘Hills and lakes melt

  into distant night.

  Through my casement shines

  the clear light

  Of the moon

  And the sleepless Milky Way.

  My thin robe trembles

  As wind and dew alight.’

  There was another brief pause. Adamantina said to Bao-yu:

  ‘The first stanza rhymed on “moan”, the second on “night”. I wonder how the next will rhyme?’

  The chant began again from wit
hin:

  ‘Fate denies you freedom,

  holds you bound;

  Inflicting on me too

  a heavy wound.

  In closest harmony

  Our hearts resound;

  In contemplation of the Ancients

  Is solace to be found.’

  ‘That must be the end of the third stanza,’ said Adamantina. ‘How tragic it is!’

  ‘I don’t know anything about music,’ said Bao-yu. ‘But just from the way she sang, I found it terribly sad.’

  There was another pause, and they heard Dai-yu tuning her Qin.

  ‘That tonic B-flat of hers is too sharp for the scale,’ commented Adamantina.

  The chanting began again:

  ‘Alas! this particle of dust,

  the human soul,

  Is only playing out

  a predetermined role.

  Why grieve to watch

  The Wheel of Karma turn?

  A moonlike purity remains

  My constant goal.’

  As she listened, Adamantina turned pale with horror.

  ‘Just listen to the way she suddenly uses a sharpened fourth there! Her intonation is enough to shatter bronze and stone! It’s much too sharp!’

  ‘What do you mean, too sharp?’ asked Bao-yu.

  ‘It will never take the strain.’

  As they were talking, they heard a sudden twang and the tonic string snapped. Adamantina stood up at once and began to walk away.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Bao-yu.

  ‘You will find out in time. Please don’t say anything about this.’

  She walked off, leaving Bao-yu in a state of great confusion. Eventually he too made his way dejectedly home. And there our narrative leaves him.

  *

  Adamantina arrived back at Green Bower Hermitage to find the old lay-sisters waiting for her return. They closed the gate after her and she sat with them for a while, intoning her Zen breviary. They had dinner, and after dinner the incense braziers were replenished. They all bowed before the shrine of the Bodhisattva and the women went off duty, leaving Adamantina alone. Her couch and back-rest were set out for her. Sitting cross-legged, she first regulated her breathing and closed her eyes. Then, cleansed of all wayward thoughts, her mind began to soar towards the realm of higher truth. She sat in meditation until well after midnight, when she was disturbed by a sudden clattering sound on the roof. Afraid there might be burglars about, she rose from her couch and went into the front hall. Looking out, all she could see were long clouds that stretched across the sky, and the moon shining through a watery haze. It was a mild night, and she stayed there for a while, leaning over the balustrade.