by Cao Xueqin
‘Come and have your medicine, Miss,’ she said. ‘It’s cool enough to drink now.’
‘What’s the matter with you?’ said Dai-yu. ‘Always fussing! What does it matter to you whether I take my medicine or not?’
Nightingale laughed good-humouredly.
‘Your cough’s only just beginning to get better, and already you want to stop taking your medicine! It may be the fifth month and the weather may be hot, but all the same, you still need to be careful. Come on, you’ve been standing quite long enough in this early morning damp. You ought to come in now and rest a bit.’
Now that Nightingale’s words had recalled her attention to herself, Dai-yu became aware that her legs were in fact rather tired. For a moment or two she appeared rather bewildered, then, taking Nightingale’s arm, she slowly made her way back to the Naiad’s House.
As they entered the courtyard, the chequered shadows of the bamboos and the dew-pearled moss reminded her of two lines she had read in The Western Chamber:
A place remote, where footsteps seldom pass,
And dew still glistens on the untrodden grass.
‘It’s all very well,’ she thought, as she reflected on the heroine of that play, ‘Ying-ying may have been unfortunate, but at least she had a widowed mother and a little brother. I have no one.’
She was about to shed tears once more; but just then her parrot, which had been perched aloft under the verandah eaves, seeing that his mistress had returned, flew down with a sudden squawk that made her jump.
‘Wicked Polly!’ she said. ‘You’ve shaken dust all over my head!’
The parrot flew on to its perch.
‘Snowgoose!’ it called. ‘Raise the blind! Miss Lin is back!’
Dai-yu stooped in front of it and tapped its perch.
‘Did they remember your food and water, Polly?’
The parrot heaved a long sigh, uncannily like the ones that Dai-yu was wont to utter, and recited, in its parroty voice:
‘Let others laugh flower-burial to see:
Another year who will be burying me?’
Dai-yu and Nightingale both burst out laughing.
‘It’s what you’re always reciting yourself, Miss,’ said Nightingale. ‘Fancy Polly being able to remember it!’
Dai-yu made her take the perch down and hang it up outside the round ‘moon-window’ of her study.
Going indoors she sat down by the moon-window to take her medicine. Light reflected from the bamboos outside passed through the gauze of the window to make a green gloom within, lending a cold, aquarian look to the floor and the surfaces of the furniture. To keep her spirits up in these somewhat cheerless surroundings she spoke teasingly to the parrot hanging on the other side of the gauze until he jumped and squawked on his perch, after which she taught him a few snatches of her favourite poems.
At this point our narrative leaves her and returns to Bao-chai.
When Bao-chai arrived at her mother’s apartment that morning, she found her mother still doing her hair. Aunt Xue greeted her daughter with a smile of surprise.
‘You’re very early this morning, my dear.’
‘I wanted to know how you were, Mamma. Did he come in again and give any more trouble after I had left you last night?’
She sat down beside her mother and, in spite of herself, began to cry.
Aunt Xue, seeing her daughter’s tears, could not forbear shedding a few herself, though she did her best to comfort her.
‘There, there, my child! Don’t be upset! I’ll deal with that wicked brother of yours, you see if I don’t. I don’t want anything to happen to my girlie, do I? If anything were to happen to her, I should have no one to turn to.’
Xue Pan, who had overheard, came running into the room at this point. Clasping his hands together, he pumped them up and down, at the same time making sweeping bows to right and left of him, in token of his contrition.
‘Forgive me, sis,’ he said. ‘I’d had too much to drink last night. I met a friend on my way home. It was already quite late when I bumped into him, and I still hadn’t sobered up properly when I got back here. I don’t know myself what it was I said, but I know I must have talked a lot of silly nonsense. I’m not surprised you were angry with me.’
The clumsiness of his apology rapidly turned Bao-chai’s weeping into laughter. Lifting her face up from the handkerchief in which it had been buried, she made a little grimace of derision.
‘There’s no need for you to put on this act,’ she said. ‘I understand what your real motive is perfectly well. You don’t like having us womenfolk around you and you are looking for a means of getting rid of us, so that you can have the place here to yourself.’
Xue Pan laughed deprecatingly.
‘I don’t know where you got that idea from, sis,’ he said. ‘It’s very unlike you to make a snide remark like that.’
‘Snide remark?’ said Aunt Xue indignantly. ‘If that’s a “snide remark”, I don’t know what sort of remarks you were making to your sister last night. I think you must have taken leave of your senses!’
‘Now Mamma, don’t be angry,’ said Xue Pan, ‘and don’t you be upset, sis. Suppose I were to tell you that from now on I’m going to give up drinking with the others altogether, eh? What would you say to that?’
‘I’d say that you had come to your senses at last,’ said Bao-chai.
‘And I’d say that the Heavenly Dragon had laid an egg,’ said Aunt Xue, ‘if you really had the will-power to do it.’
‘All right then,’ said Xue Pan. ‘If you ever hear that I’ve been drinking with those others again, sis, you can spit at me – and you can call me a beast and a – and a – worthless louse! Dammit, it’s too bad that the two of you should be worried all the time because of me! It’s bad enough that I should make you angry, Mamma; but to have poor little sis, too, worrying her heart out – oh, I really am a louse! I ought to be extra good to you, Mamma, now that Father’s dead, and extra kind to sis; but instead I make my own dear Mother angry and little sis upset. I’m not a beast, I’m worse than a beast!’
And the great booby began to cry.
At this Aunt Xue, who had not been crying when he started, was herself becoming upset, and Bao-chai was obliged to intervene with a brisk cheerfulness that she was very far from feeling.
‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble already without making Mamma cry again?’
‘Who says I’ve been making Mamma cry?’ said Xue Pan, restraining his tears and grinning back at her. ‘All right then, all right. Let’s drop the whole subject and say no more about it. We’ll have Caltrop in and get her to pour you a nice cup of tea.’
‘I don’t want any tea, thank you,’ said Bao-chai. ‘As soon as Mamma has washed, I shall be going back into the Garden with her.’
‘Let me look at that locket of yours,’ said Xue Pan. ‘I think it needs dipping again.’
‘Whatever for?’ said Bao-chai. ‘The gilding’s as bright as new.’
‘Isn’t it time you had a few more clothes?’ said Xue Pan. ‘Let me know what colours and what sort of patterns you want.’
‘I wouldn’t know what to do with them,’ said Bao-chai. ‘I haven’t yet worn all the things I’ve got.’
Shortly after this exchange Aunt Xue re-emerged from changing her clothes and, taking Bao-chai by the hand, went through into the Garden with her, leaving Xue Pan to go off on his own.
Once in the Garden, Aunt Xue and Bao-chai made their way straight to Green Delights. From the large number of maids and older women they found when they got there waiting outside on the verandah or in the ante-room inside, they knew that Grandmother Jia and the other ladies must have arrived there before them. They exchanged greetings with the latter on entering, after which they went over to the couch on which Bao-yu lay, to inquire if he was feeling any better. Seeing Aunt Xue, he attempted to raise himself a little.
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I am a little better. But what a lot of trouble I am causing! I
feel ashamed that you should have come over just to see me.’
Aunt Xue made him lie down again.
‘If there’s anything you want,’ she said, ‘do please let me know.’
‘I certainly shall,’ he said, ‘if I can think of anything.’
‘Is there anything you fancy to eat?’ said Lady Wang. ‘We can order it for you when we go back presently.’
‘I can’t think of anything,’ said Bao-yu, ‘unless – I did quite like that soup we had once with the little lotus-leaves and lotus-pods in it.’
Xi-feng, who was standing by listening, gave a crow of laughter.
‘Listen to that, now! What low tastes the boy has! – Whatever makes you want to eat that leathery old stuff?’
‘Have it made, have it made!’ said Grandmother Jia vehemently. ‘Let the boy have it by all means.’
‘Don’t be in such a hurry, Grannie!’ said Xi-feng laughing. ‘I’m trying to think who’s got the moulds that they need for making the little shapes with.’
She turned and ordered one of the old women in attendance to go and ask the chief cook; but though the old woman was a long time gone, she came back empty-handed.
‘Cook says the four moulds for the soup-shapes were handed in some time ago on your instructions.’
Xi-feng thought for a bit.
‘Yes, I remember now: I did get them back from her. But I can’t remember who I gave them to. I should think the likeliest place for them to be is the tea-room.’
She sent someone to the tea-room stewardess; but she hadn’t got them either. In the end they turned out to be with the plate stewardess, who looked after the gold and silver. Aunt Xue was the first to examine them when they arrived.
There were four moulds fitted into a single box. They were made of silver, a foot or so long and about an inch wide. Along the face of each mould were rows of very finely-cut dies, each about the size of a bean, thirty or forty on each mould. On one of the moulds the dies were in the shape of chrysanthemums, on another of plum-flowers, on the third of lotus pods and leaves, and on the remaining one of caltrops. Aunt Xue turned to Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang with amusement.
‘You people really do think of everything! All these patterns for a bowl of soup! If you hadn’t told me, I should never have guessed what these things were for.’
Xi-feng answered her before either of the older ladies could reply.
‘You wouldn’t know about these anyway, Aunt. It’s something they thought up last year for Her Grace’s visit. They cut shapes with these things out of some special dough – I’m not sure exactly what it’s made of – and put them in a clear soup. There’s supposed to be a suggestion of autumn lotuses in the flavour, but it doesn’t taste very much really. It’s certainly not the sort of thing you’d want to eat very often. In fact, I think the only time we ever had it was when they made some for the visit. I’m surprised he can still remember.’
She handed the moulds to an attendant woman-servant.
‘Tell the kitchen to take as many chickens and other ingredients as they’ll need to make ten bowlfuls with. Say it’s wanted immediately.’
‘Why so much?’ said Lady Wang.
‘I have my reason,’ said Xi-feng. ‘This isn’t the sort of thing one eats every day, and now that Cousin Bao has mentioned it, it seems silly to make it just for him and not let you and Grandma and Auntie Xue taste it as well. So while we are about it, we might just as well do enough of it for everyone.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘I might even have a taste of it myself.’
Grandmother Jia laughed.
‘Little monkey! We spoil you! Spending public money on private entertainment, that’s what this is!’
The others all laughed. Xi-feng, quite unconcerned, joined in.
‘That’s no problem,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I can afford a little treat like this.’ She turned to the waiting woman: ‘Tell the kitchen to use plenty of everything and charge it all up to my account.’
The woman murmured a reply and went off to see about the order.
Bao-chai had been following these exchanges with amusement.
‘Cousin Feng may be very artful,’ she said, ‘but I don’t believe that in all the years I’ve been here I have ever seen her get the better of Lady Jia.’
‘I’m an old woman, my dear,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘What use would I have for artfulness at my time of life? Mind you, when I was the age that Feng is now, I could have taught her a thing or two. Still, though she may not be as sharp as I was then, she doesn’t do so badly! A deal better than your Aunt Wang here, that’s certain. She can’t talk to save her life, poor soul, no more than a woman of wood! She could never get round me the way your Cousin Feng does. Fengie has the gift of a good tongue, my dear. That’s why your old grannie is so fond of her.’
Bao-yu laughed.
‘From what you say, Grandma, it sounds as if the good talkers are the only ones you can be fond of.’
‘Oh no,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘The silent ones have their merits, just as the good talkers have theirs. Good talkers can be very tiresome at times – and then I prefer the silent ones.’
‘That’s all right then,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I was going to say: my sister-in-law certainly isn’t much of a talker, yet I’m sure you are as fond of her as you are of Feng. If being a good talker were the only thing that mattered, I should have thought that Cousin Feng and Cousin Lin would be the only two in the family you would really care about.’
‘Well now, if we’re going to start comparing,’ said Grandmother Jia, ‘– I hope your Aunt Xue won’t think I am only saying this because she is here, but really and truly I do think that of all the girls in this family her Bao-chai is the one that I like the best.’
Aunt Xue laughingly demurred.
‘You mustn’t say that. I’m sure you can’t really mean it.’
‘No, no, I’m sure she does,’ Lady Wang hurriedly interposed. ‘I’ve often heard Mother speak well of Bao-chai when you weren’t around.’
Bao-yu’s contribution to the conversation had been made with the intention of encouraging Grandmother Jia to say something nice about Dai-yu. It came to him as a surprise when she started praising Bao-chai instead. He looked at Bao-chai and grinned; but she turned quickly away and began talking to Aroma.
Just then a servant came to say that lunch over at the mansion was ready, and Grandmother Jia rose to go. Having first exhorted Bao-yu to ‘hurry up and get better’ and then admonished his maids, she began to move out of the room – not without a polite attempt to make Aunt Xue go out ahead of her – leaning on Xi-feng’s arm.
‘Is that soup ready yet?’ she inquired when they were out of the room. Then, turning to Aunt Xue, she asked her if there was anything she particularly fancied for her lunch.
‘Mind you let me know if there is,’ she said. ‘I have the power to make Fengie treat us to it.’
Aunt Xue laughed.
‘You shouldn’t tease the poor girl! She’s always getting nice things for you. But you’re not much of an eater at the best of times.’
‘Don’t you believe it, Aunt!’ said Xi-feng. ‘Grannie knows how to tuck in. She’d have eaten me by now if she weren’t afraid that she’d find me a bit too vinegary.’
This set them all off laughing. Even Bao-yu, in the inner room, had to join in, though it hurt him to do so. Aroma, standing beside him, was helpless with mirth.
‘Mrs Lian really is a caution!’
Bao-yu took her hand and drew her down beside him.
‘Come!’ he said. ‘You must be tired. You’ve been on your feet for hours.’
‘Hey, you’ve forgotten!’ said Aroma. ‘While Miss Bao’s still in the courtyard, you ought to ask her if she’ll let Oriole come over to do that knotting for you.’
‘Yes,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I’m glad you reminded me.’ He raised his head and shouted towards the window.
‘Cousin Bao! If you can spare her, after you’ve had your lunch, would you mind sendi
ng Oriole here to do some knotting for me?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ said Bao-chai, turning back to reply. ‘I’ll send her over presently.’
Grandmother Jia and the others had stopped to listen. Not having heard properly, the old lady asked what it was. Bao-chai explained.
‘Oh do, my dear!’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘Do let him have her to do the knotting! If you need someone in her place, I have plenty of free hands in my apartment. Just pick whichever of my maids you like to wait on you.’
Aunt Xue and Bao-chai were amused.
‘Let her go to him by all means,’ said Aunt Xue, ‘but there certainly won’t be any need of a stand-in. She has little enough to do but get up to mischief as it is.’
They had been walking on as they talked and presently came upon Xiang-yun, Patience and Caltrop picking balsams beside an artificial ‘mountain’ of rock. Seeing Grandmother Jia and the rest coming, they left off their flower-gathering and came forward to join them.
Soon the little party emerged from the Garden. Fearing that Grandmother Jia might be fatigued, Lady Wang proposed that she should stop on the way back and sit down for a while in her apartment. The old lady’s feet were indeed beginning to trouble her and she nodded in consent. Lady Wang sent a maid on ahead to prepare for her arrival.
Aunt Zhao was prudently avoiding Lady Wang for the time being by feigning sick, so of the two concubines it was only Aunt Zhou who came out with the old women-servants and maids of the apartment to welcome Grandmother Jia, holding up the door-blind for her to enter and arranging the pillows and back-rest for her on the kang.
Moving up to it on Xi-feng’s arm, the old lady installed herself on the right-hand side at the back with Aunt Xue in the guest’s position beside her. Bao-chai and Xiang-yun sat nearer the edge of the kang on either side. Lady Wang served Grandmother Jia with tea, holding the cup ceremoniously in both her hands, and Li Wan in like manner offered tea to Aunt Xue.
‘Let the younger women wait on us,’ said Grandmother Jia to Lady Wang. ‘You sit down over there so that we can talk to you.’
