The Crab-Flower Club

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you. If he has anyone else with him, he won’t be able to get any.’

  Knowing Adamantina, Li Wan reflected that this was probably true and nodded. She sent the maids to fetch a large meiping vase with wide shoulders and a very narrow neck to put the plum-blossom in when it arrived.

  ‘When he comes back, we must compose some red plum poems,’ she said.

  ‘I can do one now,’ said Bao-qin.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Bao-chai. ‘We’re not letting you do any more. You’ve already hogged enough turns for today. It’s no fun for the others if they are left with nothing to do. No, it’s Bao-yu’s penalty we’ve got to think about. He said just now that he can’t do Linked Verses. When he comes back we ought to make him do some other kind of verses for us by himself.’

  ‘Good idea!’ said Dai-yu. ‘And I’ve got another idea. Several people didn’t get sufficient opportunity in the Linked Verses of showing what they can do. I propose that those who contributed least in the Linked Verses should be given the red plum poems to do.’

  ‘Yes, I agree,’ said Bao-chai. ‘Cousin Xing, Cousin Wen and Cousin Qi were practically crowded out altogether – and they are, after all, our guests. Qin and Yun and you, Frowner, hogged nearly all the turns. This time the rest of us ought to keep out of it and let Cousin Xing and Cousin Wen and Cousin Qi have the floor to themselves.’

  ‘Qi isn’t very good at making verses,’ said Li Wan. ‘I think you’d better give her place to your cousin Bao-qin.’

  This was scarcely what Bao-chai had intended, but she felt herself in no position to dissent.

  ‘Why don’t we use the words “red plum flower” as rhymes?’ she suggested. ‘Each of the three can do an octet on “Red Plum Flower”, but Cousin Xing can use “red” for her rhyme, Cousin Wen can use “plum” for hers, and Qin can use “flower”.’

  ‘We seem to be letting off Bao-yu,’ said Li Wan. ‘I can’t agree to that.’

  ‘Give him a separate theme,’ Xiang-yun suggested.

  ‘What theme shall we give him?’ the others asked.

  ‘What about “On Visiting the Nun Adamantina with a Request for Red Plum Blossom”?’ said Xiang-yun. ‘That might be interesting.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ said the others. ‘That would do splendidly.’

  At that very moment the object of their discussion walked in, smiling triumphantly, with a flowering plum-branch in his hand. The maids at once relieved him of it and put it in the waiting vase, while the cousins crowded round them to admire it.

  ‘I hope you enjoyit, all of you,’ said Bao-yu. ‘It took me enough trouble to get!’

  Tan-chun handed him a cup of hot wine to revive him; but first the maids removed his cape and rain-hat and shook the snow off them.

  Maids from several different apartments now began arriving with extra clothing for their mistresses. Bao-yu’s Aroma sent him an old surtout lined with fox’s belly-fur. Li Wan made the servants fill three dishes, one with extra large steamed taros, the other two with blood-oranges, yellow Canton oranges and olives, to take back to her.

  Xiang-yun now told Bao-yu the title of the poem they wanted him to compose and urged him to begin thinking about it.

  ‘I will,’ said Bao-yu; ‘but there’s just one thing I would ask of you all: please let me use my own rhymes; please don’t make me do it to set rhymes.’

  ‘All right,’ said the girls. ‘Use whatever rhymes you like.’

  They had been admiring the plum-blossom meanwhile. The vertical part of the branch – the part, that is, which was stuck into the neck of the vase – must have been less than two feet high; but growing at right-angles from the top of it was a side branch which rose and fell in a spreading cascade of blossom all of four feet long. Of the branchlets forming this flowery cascade

  some were like writhing serpents,

  some were like frozen worms;

  some were as straight and smooth as a writing-brush,

  some were as densely twigged as a tiny coppice.

  As for the blossoms, they had

  A colour like the rosy lips of love

  And scent that made summer’s scents seem uninviting.

  While the others were studying the blossoming branch and praising its beauties, Xing Xiu-yan, Li Wen and Bao-qin were busy composing their poems about it and presently began writing them out for the others to inspect.

  This is what the others were now able to read:

  On a Branch of Red Plum Flower

  I

  Rhyming ‘red’

  By Xing Xiu-yan

  So brave, so gay they bloom in winter’s cold,

  Before the fragrant peach and almond red;

  Like rosy clouds that clothe the springtime slopes

  Of Yu-ling, where my dream-soul oft has sped.

  Each little lamp in its green calyx lies

  Like drunken snow-sprite on a rainbow bed.

  Yet do these flowers, of hue so rich and rare,

  Reckless, in ice and snow their charms outspread.

  II

  Rhyming ‘plum’

  By Li Wen

  What richness blooms before my drunken eyes?

  ’Tis not the white I sing, but the red plum.

  See, its pale cheeks are streaked with blood-red tears,

  Even though its bitter heart with cold is numb.

  No flower this, but a fairy maid transformed

  And here transplanted from Elysium!

  In this bleak North it makes such brave display,

  I’ll tell the bees that spring’s already come.

  III

  Rhyming ‘flower’

  By Xue Bao-qin

  Like spendthrift youths in spring’s new fashions dressed,

  Its bare thin branches burst in glorious flower.

  Snow no more falls, but a bright rosy cloud

  Tints hills and streams in one long sunset hour.

  Through this red flood my dream-boat makes its way,

  While flutes sound chill from many a maiden’s bower.

  Sure from no earthly stock this beauty came,

  But trees immortal round the Fairy Tower.

  They read these poems with smiles of pleasure. There were words of praise for all three of them; but Bao-qin’s, they finally agreed, was the best of the three. Bao-yu, realizing that she was the youngest present, was greatly impressed. Dai-yu and Xiang-yun between them poured out a tiny cupful of wine and offered it to her in celebration of her victory.

  ‘All three were equally good,’ said Bao-chai deprecatingly. ‘It was you two who in the past were always fooling me that my poems were the best. Now, it appears, you’ve found someone else to fool.’

  ‘What about you?’ Li Wan asked Bao-yu. ‘Is yours ready yet?’

  ‘I did have one ready,’ said Bao-yu, ‘but these three are so much better that reading them has made me nervous and put it completely out of my mind. You’ll have to give me a bit longer while I think up another.’

  Xiang-yun picked up one of a pair of large bronze chopsticks used as tongs for feeding the stove with and beat a preliminary tattoo with it on her metal hand-warmer.

  ‘I’ll drum for you,’ she said. ‘If you can’t produce something each time the drumming stops, we’ll double your penalty.’

  ‘I think I’ve got something,’ said Bao-yu.

  Dai-yu picked up a writing-brush.

  ‘I’ll write it down for you while you recite it,’ she said.

  Xiang-yun struck up a tattoo.

  ‘Right!’ she said presently, as she stopped her drumming. ‘End of first round.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got something,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Get ready to write.’

  ‘Wine not yet broached nor verses yet composed – ’

  Dai-yu wrote down the words, shaking her head as she did so.

  ‘That’s a very indifferent beginning.’

  ‘Come on!’ said Xiang-yun. ‘Hurry!’

  Bao-yu continued:

  ‘In
quest of spring I sped to Elysium –

  Dai-yu and Xiang-yun nodded.

  ‘Hmn. Not bad.’

  Bao-yu went on:

  ‘’Twas not the balm from Guanyin’s vase I craved

  Across that threshold, but her flowering plum –’

  Dai-yu shook her head again as she wrote this down.

  ‘That’s a bit contrived, isn’t it?’

  Xiang-yun began another tattoo on the hand-warmer. When she finished, Bao-yu continued at once:

  ‘A frozen worldling, for red flowers I begged;

  The saint cut fragrant clouds and gave me some.

  Pity my verse so angular and thin,

  For convent snow has soaked it to the skin!’

  As soon as Dai-yu had finished writing this down, Xiang-yun and the rest began a critical discussion of the whole poem. They were still in the midst of this when a little maid dashed in to announce that Grandmother Jia was approaching. Bao-yu and the girls hurried out, laughing and chattering, to welcome her.

  ‘She must be feeling in good spirits,’ they said, ‘to come out in the snow like this.’

  Grandmother Jia was still quite a way off when they saw her. She was sitting in a little bamboo carrying-chair and holding a green silk umbrella over herself. A large cape and squirrel-lined hood almost completely enveloped her. Faithful, Amber and three or four other maids, all carrying their own umbrellas, formed a little escort around the chair and its bearers. Li Wan and the others would have gone out into the snow to meet her, but Grandmother Jia called out to them to stay where they were.

  ‘Wait there under cover. I’ll come over to you.’

  ‘I’ve given Feng and your Aunt Wang the slip,’ she told them, chuckling mischievously, when the chair had reached them and they were helping her out of it. ‘It’s all right for me, going out in all this snow, because I’m sitting in this thing; but I didn’t want them trudging along in the snow beside me, getting cold and miserable.’

  Some of them relieved her of her snow-clothes while others supported her on either side and conducted her into the room where the heated kang was.

  ‘What pretty plum-blossom!’ she said as they entered it. ‘You children certainly know how to enjoy yourselves. I feel quite angry with you for not inviting me!’

  Li Wan made the servants bring in a big wolfskin rug and spread it out in the middle of the kang for Grandmother Jia to sit on.

  ‘Now you just all go on enjoying yourselves exactly as you were before I came,’ said the old lady when she had settled herself on the rug. ‘I daren’t sleep after lunch at this time of year, because the days are so short. I had a little game of dominoes instead; then I started wondering what you were all up to and thought I would come over and join you.’

  Li Wan handed her a hand-warmer while Tan-chun fetched a winecup and a pair of chopsticks, poured out a cup of warm wine, and offered it to her with both her hands. Grandmother Jia accepted it from her and sipped the wine.

  ‘What have you got in that dish over there?’ she asked them.

  ‘Pickled quails,’ said one of the cousins, bringing the dish over for her inspection.

  ‘That will do very nicely,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘Tear off a little leg for me, will you?’

  Li Wan called for water, and having first washed her hands, performed the operation for her in person.

  ‘Now I want you all to sit down again and go on talking,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘It does me good to hear you. – You too,’ she said to Li Wan. ‘You’re to sit down as well. I want you to behave exactly as if I hadn’t come. Otherwise I shall go away again.’

  At this the others resumed their former places – all except Li Wan, who took the lowest place, farthest away from Grandmother Jia.

  ‘What have you been doing to amuse yourselves?’ the old lady asked them.

  ‘We were making up poems,’ they said.

  ‘You ought to make up some lantern riddles,’ said Grandmother Jia, ‘then you’ll be ready for the Lantern Festival when it comes.’

  The others agreed to change over to riddle-making. For a while there was general conversation interspersed with jokes and laughter; but the old lady quickly became restless.

  ‘This is rather a damp place here, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You don’t want to sit here too long or you’ll be catching colds. I think Xi-chun’s room is warmer than this. Why don’t we go and see how she’s getting on with the painting – see if she’ll be able to finish it in time for New Year?’

  ‘New Year?’ said the others, laughing. ‘You’ll be lucky if she finishes it by midsummer!’

  ‘Good gracious, that won’t do!’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘She’s taking longer to paint this Garden than the workmen took to build it!’

  Soon she was enthroned once more in the bamboo carrying-chair and the others tramped after her through the snow on their way to Lotus Pavilion. Passing by the pavilion itself, they entered an alley-way which had roofed gateways at either end. These had inscribed stone slabs built into them underneath the eaves on both the inward-facing and outward-facing sides. The gateway at the western end of the alley-way, which was the one they were entering, had

  THROUGH THE CLOUD

  inscribed on its outer face and

  ACROSS THE MOON

  on its inner one. Half-way along the left-hand side of the alley-way they came to the main entrance to the courtyard of Xichun’s Spring In Winter room, which was both her living-quarters and the place where she worked on the painting. The bearers turned into this and put the chair down just inside it for Grandmother Jia to get out. Xi-chun was already waiting there to welcome her and conducted them all through the covered way which ran round the sides of the courtyard from the gateway to her living quarters at the back. A framed board hanging underneath the eaves announced the name of the building:

  SPRING IN WINTER.

  Servants held up the red felt portière for them as they approached its doorway. They could feel the hot air fanning their cheeks as they entered it.

  Grandmother Jia tackled Xi-chun as soon as they were inside, not even waiting to sit down.

  ‘What’s happened to the painting?’

  ‘The glue gets tacky in this cold weather,’ said Xi-chun. ‘It stops the paint from going on properly. I’ve put the painting away because I was afraid it might get spoiled.’

  Grandmother Jia brushed aside this excuse with a dismissive laugh.

  ‘I want that painting ready by the end of the year. Don’t be so lazy! Fetch it out at once and get on with it, my girl!’

  Just then a smiling Xi-feng made her appearance. A purplish woollen gabardine was thrown loosely over her shoulders.

  ‘You’ve led me a fine dance,’ she grumbled, ‘sneaking off on your own like this!’

  The old lady was delighted to see her.

  ‘I didn’t want you all catching colds; that’s why I told them not to let you know I was going out. I suppose I ought to have realized that that sharp little nose of yours would soon ferret me out again. You mustn’t think you are being dutiful in tracking me down like this.’

  ‘Being dutiful!’ said Xi-feng. ‘That’s not at all the reason why I came out to look for you. Just now when I went round to your apartment I found it all deathly quiet, and it was quite clear from the maids’ answers, when I tried to find out where you had gone, that they didn’t want me to go into the Garden to look for you. That aroused my suspicions; and when a moment later a couple of nuns appeared on the scene, my suspicions were confirmed: I realized that they must have come to make their annual collection for some charity or other and that my dear, saintly Grannie, who no doubt has rather a lot of subscriptions to pay out at this time of year, had gone into hiding to avoid them. I asked the nuns, and sure enough it was for your annual subscription that they had come. I paid it for you myself. So now your creditors have gone, you can come out of hiding. You ought to be getting back now in any case. You’ve got some nice, tender pheasant for dinner and if you leave
it much longer it will spoil.’

  All this was spoken, of course, to the accompaniment of much laughter from the others. Before Grandmother Jia could say anything in reply, Xi-feng had ordered the bearers to bring up the bamboo carrying-chair and Grandmother Jia, in laughing acquiescence, took Xi-feng’s hand, got back into it, and was at once lifted up and whisked away by the bearers. The others followed after, chattering and laughing as they went.

  As they emerged from the east end of the alley-way into the silvery snowscape of the Garden, they could see Bao-qin, identifiable by the glossy green mallard-cape, standing a long way off behind the shoulder of a little hill, waiting for the rest of them to arrive. A maid, hugging a large vase with a branch of red plum in it, was standing behind her.

  ‘So there she is!’ said the others. ‘We thought there seemed to be two of us missing. And she’s got herself some plum-blossom, as well.’

  Grandmother Jia smiled proprietorially at the distant figure.

  ‘What does that remind you all of, seeing her there on that snowy bank, wearing a cape like that and with the spray of plum-blossom behind her?’

  ‘Why,’ they said, ‘it’s like that painting by Qiu Ying you have hanging in your room: “The Beauty of the Snow”.’

  Grandmother Jia shook her head.

  ‘No, the girl in that picture isn’t wearing a cape like that – and she isn’t half as pretty as Qin, either.’

  Just at that moment a third figure, previously invisible, stepped out from behind Bao-qin’s back. Whoever it was was wearing a red felt snow-cape.

  ‘Which of the girls is that?’ said Grandmother Jia.

  ‘There aren’t any more girls; we’re all here,’ said the others laughing. ‘That’s Bao-yu.’

  ‘My eyes are getting worse and worse,’ said Grandmother Jia.

  Soon they had caught up with the three figures on the hill and she could see that it was indeed Bao-yu whom she had failed to recognize with Bao-qin and the maid.

  ‘I’ve been over to Green Bower Hermitage again,’ Bao-yu told the girls. ‘Adamantina ended up by giving me a branch of plum-blossom for each of you. I’ve just been arranging to have them delivered to your rooms.’