The Crab-Flower Club

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘But I still say this isn’t really like aubergine,’ she said. ‘Tell me the recipe, so that I can make it for myself.’

  ‘It’s simple,’ said Xi-feng. ‘You pick the aubergines in the fourth or fifth month when they’re just ripe, skin them, remove the pulp and pips and cut into thread-fine strips which you dry in the sun. Then you take the stock from one whole fat boiling-fowl, put the dried aubergine-strips into a steamer and steam them over the chicken stock until it’s nearly all boiled away. Then you take them out and dry them in the sun again. You do that, steaming and drying, steaming and drying by turns, altogether nine times. And it has to be dried until it’s quite brittle. Then you store in a tightly-sealed jar, and when you want to eat some, you take out about a saucerful and mix it with fried slivers of chicken leg-meat before serving.’

  Xi-feng’s ‘simple recipe’ caused Grannie Liu to stick her tongue out and shake her head in wonderment.

  ‘Lord Buddha!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s ten chicken gone into the making of it. No wonder it tastes so good!’

  And having laughed a while over the recipe, she applied herself once more to the wine and slowly drank it down. She continued to toy with the cup after she had finished drinking, as though loth to put it down.

  ‘I do believe you haven’t had enough,’ said Xi-feng. ‘Have another cupful.’

  ‘Gracious goodness, that would be the death of me!’ said Grannie Liu. ‘No, I was just admiring the carving on it. Beautiful. How could they do it so fine?’

  ‘Now that you’ve finished drinking from it,’ said Faithful, ‘why not tell us what wood it’s made of?’

  ‘Ah now, that question doesn’t surprise me,’ said Grannie Liu. ‘You young ladies living in the lap of luxury wouldn’t know much about wood; but people like us that live all our lives with the woods for neighbours, that lie on wood when we’re tired and sit on it when we’re weary and even have to eat it sometimes in years of famine: seeing it and hearing it and talking about it every day of our lives, we naturally get to know its different qualities and can tell the genuine from the imitation. Well now, let me see.’

  She turned the cup round a good while in her hands and contemplated it with great attention before pronouncing:

  ‘A household like yours wouldn’t have anything cheap in it,’ she said, ‘so anything wooden you’ve got would be made from a wood that’s not very easy to come by. And this is a heavy wood, so it’s definitely not willow. I should say, without much doubt, this is red pine.’

  The loud laughter which greeted this pronouncement was interrupted by the arrival of an old woman who reported to Grandmother Jia that the young actresses were in the Lotus Pavilion awaiting instructions. Were they to perform now, or should they go on waiting a little longer?

  ‘Bless me! I had completely forgotten about them,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘Yes, tell them to begin straight away.’

  The old woman departed, and presently, in the cold, clear air of autumn, the ululation of flutes rising above a drone of pipes and organs came stealing through the trees and across the water, ravishing the hearts and minds of those who heard it.

  Bao-yu, the first to be affected, seized his wine-kettle, poured himself a cupful of wine, and drained it in a single gulp. He then poured himself a second cup; but just as he was about to drink it, he noticed that his mother had evidently been affected in the same way, for she was just at that moment giving orders to a servant to fetch her a supply of freshly-heated wine. At once he crossed over to where she was sitting and held his cup to her mouth for her to drink from.

  Soon the newly-heated wine arrived and Bao-yu went back to his seat. Lady Wang rose from hers and picked up the wine-kettle that had just been brought, intending to pour some for Grandmother Jia. This was a signal for the others present, including Aunt Xue, to rise from their seats as well; but Grandmother Jia hurriedly gave orders for Li Wan and Xi-feng to take over.

  ‘Let your Aunt sit down, so that the others can be at their ease,’ she said to Xi-feng, whereupon Lady Wang relinquished the wine-kettle and went back to her seat.

  ‘We’re having such fun today,’ said Grandmother Jia when Xi-feng had poured for her. ‘All of you must drink!’

  She raised her cup to Aunt Xue, then, reaching beyond her, to Xiang-yun and Bao-chai.

  ‘Come on, you two! You must have a cup too. And your Cousin Lin – we’re not letting her off. I know she can’t drink very much, but today is an exception.’

  She drained her cup, and Xiang-yun, Bao-chai and Dai-yu drank something from theirs.

  Grannie Liu, meanwhile, who had seldom before heard such fine music and was more than a little drunk, was showing her appreciation of it with vigorous movements of hands and feet. Bao-yu, catching sight of her, slipped from his seat to whisper in Dai-yu’s ear.

  ‘Look at the old grannie!’

  ‘It reminds me of the passage in the History Classic about the animals dancing to the music of Shun,’ said Dai-yu. ‘Only in this case it’s just one old cow!’

  The other girls, overhearing this, all laughed.

  After a little while the music stopped and Aunt Xue suggested that as everyone appeared to have had about as much to drink as was good for them, perhaps it would be a good idea to break up and walk around for a bit. At this Grandmother Jia, who was herself beginning to feel like some exercise, rose to her feet. The others rose too and followed her outside.

  Anxious to keep Grannie Liu with her as a source of diversion, Grandmother Jia took her by the hand to walk with her among the trees at the foot of the rockery. She spent a goodish while circumambulating this area with her, explaining what the various trees, rocks and flowers were called. Grannie Liu listened very attentively.

  ‘Seems that in the city it isn’t only the folks that are grander,’ she remarked. ‘The creatures too seem to be grander than what they are outside. Even the birds here are prettier, and they can talk.’

  ‘What birds?’ they asked her, curious.

  ‘I know the one on the golden perch on the verandah – him with the green feathers and red beak – is a polly parrot,’ she said defensively, ‘but that old black crow in the cage – he’s grown a thingummy on his head and learned to talk, as well.’

  The ‘crow’ that she was referring to was a mynah. The others laughed at her mistake.

  A little after this some maids came up and invited them to take a snack.

  ‘After drinking all that wine, I don’t feel hungry,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘Still, bring it here anyway, and those who want to can help themselves.’

  The maids went off and returned carrying two small tables. A couple of food-boxes followed. Each, when its cover was removed, was found to contain two different kinds of delicacy. In the first box there were two kinds of steamed things: marzipan cakes made of ground lotus-root and sugared cassia-flowers, and pine-nut and goose-fat rolls. The second box contained two sorts of fried things, one of them a heap of tiny jiao-zi only about one inch long

  ‘What have they got inside them?’ Grandmother Jia asked.

  ‘Crab-meat,’ said one of the old women who had brought the boxes.

  Grandmother Jia frowned.

  ‘I shouldn’t think anyone would feel like eating that now,’ she said. ‘Much too rich.’

  The other type of fried confection consisted of a wide variety of little pastry-shapes deep-fried in butter. These, too, met with the old lady’s disapproval. She invited Aunt Xue to choose first. Aunt Xue selected one of the little cakes of lotus-root marzipan. Grandmother Jia chose a goose-fat and pine-nut roll, but after merely tasting it, handed the uneaten half to a maid.

  Grannie Liu was fascinated by the delicately fashioned pastries. They had been looped or perforated or criss-crossed in every conceivable shape and the soft dough instantaneously hardened in boiling butter-fat. The one she had selected was shaped like a peony.

  ‘The cleverest girl in our village couldn’t make a paper cutout as fine as that,’ she said, holding
it up for the others to see. ‘It seems almost a shame to eat it. I’d like to wrap up a few of these and take them home with me to use as patterns!’

  The others laughed.

  ‘I’ll give you a jarful to take back with you when you go,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘Eat these ones now, while they’re still hot.’

  The others contented themselves with nibbling only one or two of whichever delicacies in the boxes took their fancy, but Grannie Liu and Ban-er, partly because of the novelty (neither of them having eaten such things before), and partly because the little pastry-shapes really were very pretty and, being heaped promiscuously together, tempted you to go on eating them to discover what new shapes were lying underneath, went on munching away until they had tried several of every shape, by which time about half the pile had vanished. Xi-feng had what was left on the four dishes heaped together onto two of them and put into a single box, and sent it over to the Lotus Pavilion for Élégante and the eleven other little actresses to eat.

  Just then the nurse appeared carrying Xi-feng’s little girl, who at once became the main focus of their attention. She was clutching a large grapefruit, but as soon as she caught sight of the Buddha’s hand that Ban-er was holding, she decided that she wanted that, and let up a wail when the maids who were attempting to coax it from Ban-er could not procure it for her quickly enough. A resourceful cousin saved the situation by hurriedly taking the grapefruit and inducing Ban-er to make an exchange. Ban-er had by this time been playing with the Buddha’s hand for quite a long while and had more or less exhausted its possibilities; moreover at the moment he had his hands full of fried pastry-shapes; and the grapefruit not only smelled good but, being round, made an excellent football. For these three reasons he concluded that it was an altogether more satisfactory fruit than the Buddha’s hand and abandoned all interest in the latter.

  When everyone had taken tea, Grandmother Jia, with the rest of the party following, conducted Grannie Liu to Green Bower Hermitage, where they were met at the gate by the nun Adamantina. Inside the courtyard the trees and shrubs had a thriving, well-cared-for look.

  ‘Monks and nuns always have the best-kept gardens,’ said Grandmother Jia, in smiling approval of what she saw. ‘They have nothing else to do with their time.’

  They were walking towards the meditation hall on the east side of the courtyard. As they seemed to hesitate in the outer foyer, Adamantina invited them to go on inside, but Grandmother Jia declined.

  ‘No, we won’t go inside just now. We’ve all recently taken wine and meat, and as you’ve got the Bodhisattva in there, it would be sacrilege. We can sit out here, where we are. Bring us some of your nice tea. We’ll just drink one cup and then go out again.’

  Adamantina hurried off to make tea.

  Having heard a good deal about her, Bao-yu studied her very attentively, when she arrived back presently with the tray. It was a little cinque-lobed lacquer tea-tray decorated with a gold-infilled engraving of a cloud dragon coiled round the character for ‘longevity’. On it stood a little covered teacup of Cheng Hua enamelled porcelain. Holding the tray out respectfully in both her hands, she offered the cup to Grandmother Jia.

  ‘I don’t drink Lu-an tea,’ said Grandmother Jia.

  ‘I know you don’t,’ said Adamantina with a smile. ‘This is Old Man’s Eyebrows.’

  Grandmother Jia took the tea and inquired what sort of water it had been made with.

  ‘Last year’s rain-water,’ said Adamantina.

  After drinking half, Grandmother Jia handed the cup to Grannie Liu.

  ‘Try it,’ she said. ‘See what you think of it.’

  Grannie Liu gulped down the remaining half.

  ‘Hmn. All right. A bit on the weak side, though. It would be better if it were brewed a little longer.’

  Grandmother Jia and the rest seemed to derive much amusement from these comments.

  The others were now served tea in covered cups of ‘sweet-white’ eggshell china – all, that is, except Bao-chai and Dai-yu, whom Adamantina tugged by the sleeve as an indication that they should follow her inside. Bao-yu stealthily slipped out after them and saw Adamantina usher them into a side-room leading off the foyer. This was Adamantina’s own room. Inside it Bao-chai seated herself on the couch and Dai-yu sat on Adamantina’s meditation mat. Adamantina busied herself at the stove, fanning the charcoal until the water was boiling vigorously and brewing them a fresh pot of tea. Bao-yu stepped softly into the room and made his presence known to the two cousins.

  ‘So you get the hostess’s special brew?’

  ‘Yes,’ they said laughing. ‘And it’s no good your gate-crashing in here after us, because there’s none for you.’

  Just as Adamantina was about to fetch cups for the girls, an old lay-sister appeared at the door carrying the empties she had been collecting in the foyer.

  ‘Don’t bring that Cheng Hua cup in here,’ said Adamantina. ‘Leave it outside.’

  Bao-yu understood immediately. It was because Grannie Liu had drunk from it. In Adamantina’s eyes the cup was now contaminated. He watched her as she got cups out for the girls. One of them, a cup with a handle, had

  THE PUMPKIN CUP

  carved in li-shu characters on one side and

  Wang Kai his Treasure

  in little autograph characters, on the back, followed by another column of tiny characters:

  Examined by Su Dong-po in the Inner Treasury

  Fourth month Yuan-feng era anno 5°

  When she had poured tea into this cup she handed it to Bao-chai.

  The other cup was shaped like a miniature begging-bowl and was inscribed with the words

  THE HORN LINK GOBLET

  in ‘pearl-drop’ seal script. Adamantina filled it and handed it to Dai-yu.

  She poured tea for Bao-yu in the green jade mug that she normally drank from herself. Bao-yu commented jokingly on the choice:

  ‘I thought you religious were supposed to treat all earthly creatures alike. How comes it that the other two get priceless heirlooms to drink out of but I only get a common old thing like this?’

  ‘I have no wish to boast,’ said Adamantina, ‘but this “common old thing” as you call it may well be more valuable than anything you could find in your own household.’

  ‘In the world’s eyes, yes,’ said Bao-yu. ‘But “other countries, other ways”, you know. When I enter your domain, I naturally adopt your standards and look on gold, jewels and jade as common, vulgar things.’

  Adamantina glowed with pleasure. In place of the jade mug she hunted out a large drinking-bowl for him to drink out of. It was carved from a gnarled and ancient bamboo root in the likeness of a coiled-up dragon with horns like antlers.

  ‘There, that’s the only thing I’ve got left. Do you think you can drink so much?’

  Delightedly he assured her that he could.

  ‘Yes, I dare say you could too,’ said Adamantina. ‘But I’m not sure that I’m prepared to waste so much of my best tea on you. You know what they say: “One cup for a connoisseur, two for a rustic, and three for a thirsty mule”. What sort of creature does that make you if you drink this bowlful?’

  Bao-chai, Dai-yu and Bao-yu all three laughed at this. Adamantina poured the equivalent of about a cupful into the bamboo-root bowl. Savouring it carefully in little sips, Bao-yu found it of incomparable freshness and lightness and praised it enthusiastically.

  ‘You realize, of course,’ said Adamantina seriously, ‘that it is only because of the other two that you are drinking this. If you had come here alone, I should not have given you any.’

  Bao-yu laughed.

  ‘I fully realize that, and I don’t feel in the least indebted to you. I shall offer my thanks to them.’

  Adamantina pondered this statement with unsmiling gravity.

  ‘Yes. I think that would be sensible.’

  ‘Is this tea made with last year’s rain-water too?’ Dai-yu asked her.

  Adamantina looked scornfu
l.

  ‘Oh! can you really not tell the difference? I am quite disappointed in you. This is melted snow that I collected from the branches of winter-flowering plum-trees five years ago, when I was living at the Coiled Incense temple on Mt Xuan-mu. I managed to fill the whole of that demon-green glaze water-jar with it. For years I couldn’t bring myself to start it; then this summer I opened it for the first time. Today is only the second time I have ever used any. I am most surprised that you cannot tell the difference. When did stored rain-water have such buoyant lightness? How could one possibly use it for a tea like this?’

  Dai-yu was too well aware of Adamantina’s eccentricity to attempt a reply; and since it felt awkward to sit there saying nothing, she signalled to Bao-chai that they should go. While the three of them were leaving, Bao-yu stopped to have a word with Adamantina.

  ‘That cup that the old woman drank out of: of course, I realize that you can’t possibly use it any more, but it seems a shame to throw it on one side. Couldn’t you give it to the old woman? She’s very poor, and if she sold it, she could probably live for quite a long while on the proceeds. What do you think?’

  Adamantina reflected for some moments and then nodded.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Fortunately I have never drunk out of that cup myself. If I had, I should have smashed it to pieces rather than give it to her. If you want her to have it, though, you must give it to her yourself. I will have no part in it. And you must take it away immediately.’

  ‘But of course,’ said Bao-yu. ‘No one would expect you to speak to her. That would be an even greater pollution. Just give the cup to me and I shall see to the rest.’

  Adamantina ordered the cup to be brought in and handed over to Bao-yu. As he took it, Bao-yu said:

  ‘After we’ve gone, shall I get my boys to bring a few buckets of water from the lake and clean the floor for you?’

  Adamantina smiled graciously.