It is Mrs. Lai, one of the head stewardesses. “The gatewomen told me you would be here giving out tallies.”
“What do you need?”
Mrs. Lai hands her a sheet of paper requesting permission to order paper for the windows of Baoyu’s study in the outer part of the mansion. Xifeng checks the amount of paper requested before copying down the quantity in one of the ledgers. She opens a locked box on the desk and takes out a tally.
“Go ahead and order it.” She hands the small wooden tally to Mrs. Lai. “But remember, I won’t give you the tally to authorize payment until the goods have been received.”
“Of course. I’ll bring you the receipt when the paper comes.”
“One more thing. Could you send Autumn to me?”
When Mrs. Lai returns with Autumn, one of the junior maids in the apartments, a single glance confirms Xifeng’s suspicions. Autumn does not dare to meet her eyes, her expression at once fearful and defiant.
Xifeng leans back in her chair, watching the maid. “This is the second time something has gone missing after your shift.” She catches a twitch of fear in the maid’s thin body, hastily suppressed.
“First, it was two dozen candles,” Xifeng continues. “Now it’s more than a pound of soap. Perhaps you think that because there are so many costly things lying around, no one will notice if some of them disappear.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Lian. Truly, I have no idea where those things went. Maybe somebody else took them.”
“Somebody else indeed!” Mrs. Lai snorts. “All the other maids have been here more than two or three years. Things only started disappearing after you came!”
It is true. They never had problems of this sort until four or five months ago, when Granny Jia had given Autumn to Xifeng. Granny had imagined that Autumn would be a good maid—she is unusually pretty, and quick-witted, and well-spoken. Xifeng has always disliked her long, sideways-glancing eyes, but because she was Lady Jia’s gift, it is impossible to dismiss her.
Lian walks in. He almost never comes home to the apartments before dinner. “What’s the matter?” she says, jumping up.
“Nothing. I’m just tired. I’m going to take a nap.”
He disappears down the hallway to their bedroom.
Xifeng turns back to Autumn. “I told you the last time what would happen if something disappeared again.” She looks at Mrs. Lai. “Give her twenty strokes of the bamboo, and stop a month of her wages.”
Autumn falls to her knees and starts to beg and weep.
“If you make such a fuss about it, I’ll make it thirty. Now take her away.”
Mrs. Lai leads Autumn away. Xifeng notes the deduction in Autumn’s salary in one of the ledgers, scrupulously adding the amount back into the operating expenses for the month. She knows many people in her place would simply pocket the two taels as their own, but she would scorn to stoop to such dishonesty. She shuts the ledger and hurries to the bedroom.
Lian is sitting on the edge of the kang untying his sash and shrugging off his robe. She kneels to take off his shoes and his socks. “Aren’t you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine. What was happening out there?”
“This is the second time that maid has been caught stealing. I was just teaching her a lesson.”
“You don’t have to be so harsh with the servants.”
His tone is mild enough, but still his criticism irritates her. “You have no idea how hard it is to maintain order and respect in this household,” she tells him. “I’m only a xifu, a daughter-in-law.” She does not mention that her failure to bear the family a child makes her status even lower. “If I showed the least weakness, everyone would be upon me like a school of sharks. It’s a good thing everyone knows that Lady Jia likes me. Otherwise, I’d never have survived this long.”
He shrugs, not deigning to reply. When she helps him strip down to his tunic she sees a few patches of rough red skin on his arms. “Your eczema is flaring up again. Do you want me to put some rose-orris on it?”
“All right.”
She takes off his tunic, and sprinkles some rose-orris powder onto her palms. She kneels behind him on the kang and rubs the powder into his smooth, hairless back and broad shoulders. When Lian was in his early teens, he had loved all sports: archery, horseback riding, swordsmanship. He had been forced to give them up in order to study for the Exams. She remembers how good-looking she thought him the first time she saw him, when she had lifted a corner of her wedding veil and peeked out at him from under the blind of her wedding sedan. Now he has become too lazy for exercise, preferring to spend his spare time gambling and drinking. Even though he has kept his athletic build, a spreading slackness has developed around his belly, which jiggles a little as she rubs his shoulders.
Usually, when she rubs the rose-orris into his chest and belly, she can feel his body relaxing beneath her fingers. Today his muscles remain tensed.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?” Now she bends down to smooth the powder on his thighs and calves.
After a moment, he says grudgingly, “Well, if you must know, now that Uncle Zheng is back he’ll want to go through the accounts with me.”
She nods, understanding why he is tense. When Lian could not pass the Exams, he was given the job of managing the family’s farming properties in the south. He is supposed to keep track of the rents, harvests, operating expenses, taxes, and salaries. But he has neither a head for numbers nor the patience to sort through receipts and records every month. Every time Uncle Zheng thinks to ask for the accounts, Lian’s neglect and confusion are exposed. Uncle Zheng shouts at him and calls him lazy. But in the end nothing changes, because, Xifeng suspects, Uncle Zheng himself has as little idea how to run the estates.
“I could help you,” she says timidly. She has always been quick at figures, and has perfected a system of recording income and expenditures. Even though running a household is women’s work, she suspects managing a farm involves similar principles.
“No, thank you,” he says sharply.
She should not have offered, of course. He has never been able to accept that she is cleverer than he is. When Lady Jia praises her for running the household, she always notices him chafing, jealous that he himself cannot merit such praise.
He seems to regret his sharpness, and changes the subject. “What do you think of Lin Daiyu?”
“If she is going to survive here, she had better learn to stay on Granny’s good side.”
“Baoyu seemed quite taken with her. I’ve always heard that girls from the south had a special sort of languorous grace—”
She feels a prick of jealousy. “Don’t be ridiculous. She isn’t really a southerner. Her mother was your Aunt Min, after all. They only moved south for her father’s posting.”
“Still, there’s something about her. Uncle Lin is a southerner, isn’t he?”
She wipes the rose-orris off her hands, and rolls out the bedding for him. “Why don’t you lie down now?”
He stretches out in his underclothes, but instead of shutting his eyes he looks at her.
“What is it?” she says, with a sense of foreboding.
He looks away from her. “How long has it been since your miscarriage?” he asks abruptly.
The mention of her miscarriage makes her wince. She knows what is coming and is filled with a dread bordering on panic. “A year and four months.”
“It’s been longer than that, hasn’t it? I’d say it was almost two years.”
“No, it happened last spring. I remember because Baoyu was thinking about taking the Exams, and then he got sick—”
He puts up his hand as if he does not have patience to hear the details. “I think I should get a concubine.”
She puts her arms around his neck and buries her head in his chest. “No, please. Give me just a little bit longer. Dr. Wang gave me some medicine, and I’m taking it every month—”
“No, listen.” He grip
s her shoulders so she is forced to look him in the face. “You always act like it’s an attack against you, for me to get another wife, but it’s not. If she has a child, it will still be considered our child, yours and mine. You’ll still be called ‘Mother’ and—”
She wrenches herself away, shaking her head. Having grown up in the Wang mansion, she knows what happens when a principal wife cannot bear children. The husband marries again, and favors the concubines who bear him sons. The sons grow older, and make every effort to promote their birth mothers, while resenting the principal wife, whom they are forced to call “Mother.” Meanwhile, everyone sneers at her barrenness behind her back. The fact that she retains the trappings and title of motherhood only makes things worse.
She clings to Lian’s arm. “Please, give me just a little longer. Two years—”
He pulls his arm away. “Then what? I promised you one year already, and now you’re begging for another. It is not as if you won’t be able to have a child even if I marry again—”
She shakes her head vehemently, grabbing his arm again. She knows that if he gets a concubine, she will have to compete with a younger, fresher girl. If she cannot conceive now, how much harder will it be when he sleeps with her only occasionally? The tears are starting to stream down her face, even though she hates to cry in front of him.
He pulls away from her again. “And then what?” he repeats. “How much longer do I have to wait?”
She feels all the old grief welling up inside her. “You never cared that I lost the baby,” she says. She remembers the way he had gone to look at the small, bloody creature in the basin. He used his forefinger to part its legs, and had walked away without a word when he saw that it was a girl. She has never forgiven him.
He does not bother to respond to her accusation. “It’s no use pleading. I’ve made up my mind.” He dresses quickly and walks out of the room.
After he has gone, she sits for a long time, trying to stop herself from crying. When she looks at her watch, she sees that it is already past three o’clock. Granny should be up from her nap by now. She feels a ray of hope. Surely Granny will side with her favorite. Without washing her face or fixing her makeup, Xifeng hurries to Lady Jia’s bedroom. Lady Jia is sitting up in bed with her iron-gray hair still down, while Snowgoose massages her legs. Xifeng climbs onto the kang, kneeling before Granny.
“Granny.” It occurs to her that Lady Jia will not be able to see the tearstains on her face, so she starts to sob again.
“Whatever is the matter, Xifeng?”
She continues to cry.
Granny puts a gnarled hand on Xifeng’s shoulder. “Tell Granny what’s wrong. Snowgoose, can’t you see how upset Mrs. Lian is? Get her some tea. Now tell me what’s the matter.”
“Lian is tired of me. He wants to get some new girl to replace me.” She puts her hands over her face. “Granny, you don’t know how hard I try to serve him and please him. Everything I do is to make him happy …”
Peering through her fingers, Xifeng sees that Granny Jia’s expression is shrewd rather than sympathetic. She tries a different tack. “It isn’t that I think he should never marry again. It’s just—why does it have to be so soon? We’ve only been married a few years.”
“It has to be so soon because you haven’t given him an heir yet.” Lady Jia’s voice is as dry as the rustling of autumn leaves. “I’m surprised someone as intelligent as you isn’t being more reasonable. You can’t expect to be the only wife in a family like this. If you wanted to be the only wife, you should have married into a lesser family.”
“You were the only wife.”
“I bore my husband three children, including two sons,” Lady Jia says, even more dryly. “I am only speaking for your own good. You don’t want people saying you’re a jealous shrew, do you?”
“They say that anyway.”
“All the more reason not to give them grounds to say anything more. I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for some time. Why don’t I send for Lian, so we can settle the matter?”
“But he doesn’t know that I’ve come to you—” Xifeng says, beginning to feel that the situation is slipping out of her control.
Ignoring her, Lady Jia sends Snowgoose to find Lian. “Come on, help me out to the front room.”
Xifeng has no choice but to support Granny off the kang. When they get to the front room, Xifeng sees that there are four maids sweeping and dusting. She understands. Granny knows that if they discuss the matter in front of servants, Xifeng will not object, for fear of losing face.
When Lian arrives, Lady Jia begins, “Xifeng tells me you have finally decided to get a concubine. It’s about time.”
An expression of triumph crosses Lian’s face as he realizes that Granny is on his side. “Yes, it’s our wish to give you another heir soon.”
Aware of the maids listening avidly, Xifeng forces herself to smile and nod.
“How much do you think it will cost?” Granny asks.
“That’s the only problem,” Xifeng says quickly, grasping the faint chance of escape. “It should cost at least two or three hundred taels. I’m afraid we don’t have that kind of cash just now. Maybe we’d better put it off for a few months.”
“I’ll pay for it myself,” Lady Jia says. “Snowgoose, go get three hundred taels from my room.” Xifeng knows that Granny’s room is filled with money and treasures that she has squirreled away over the years, hidden in all the wardrobes and trunks that line the walls. Snowgoose is indispensable because only she remembers where everything is.
“Just a minute,” Lian says. He looks so sheepish and ill at ease that Xifeng wonders what more he can possibly want.
“Yes?” Granny says.
“Actually,” he stammers. “I have someone in mind.”
“Who is it?”
Lian looks at the floor. “I want Ping’er.”
Xifeng is dumbstruck. She feels sick, remembering how she had caught them flirting two weeks ago.
Granny, after the first moment of surprise, seems pleased. “That’s a wonderful idea! Ping’er is such a lovely girl. I’ve always said it was a pity she was born a maid.” She laughs. “And there’s no danger of her not getting along with Xifeng!”
A wave of sourness washes over her. It has something of the heat of jealousy, yet is not jealousy—at least if it is, she is not sure whom she is jealous of. She doesn’t know which she resents more, sharing Lian with Ping’er, or sharing Ping’er with Lian. Can’t Granny see that letting Lian have Ping’er is to rob her of her peace? Ping’er is the only one in the household that Xifeng trusts.
With a desperate effort of self-control, she manages to speak calmly. “You’ve forgotten one thing. Ping’er is my personal body servant. I can’t possibly do without her.”
“That’s no problem.” Lian is cocky and relaxed now that he has Granny’s support. “Why don’t you take the three hundred taels? That’s more than enough to buy half a dozen maids.”
“You think it’s so easy? Ping’er is no ordinary maid. I have been training her to help me run the household for years.”
“I have an idea,” Lian says, as if he is being very generous. “Even after we’re married, she can keep on helping you.”
“She can’t do everything I need while she has to worry about serving you—”
“Why don’t I give you Suncloud?” Lady Jia interrupts. “That way you’ll be able to spare Ping’er.”
Because Granny seems to be granting her a great boon—Suncloud is one of her senior maids—refusing seems impossible.
Granny takes her silence as assent. “That’s settled. Snowgoose, why don’t you call Ping’er so we can tell her of her good fortune?”
Xifeng is beginning to feel desperate, as if she is scrabbling up a mountainside of crumbling rock. Her only hope is that Ping’er will refuse.
Ping’er appears quickly, looking scared. She kowtows to Granny.
“Now, Ping’er, you’ve received a very fine opportun
ity.”
Ping’er says nothing, twisting her hands nervously.
“Master Lian has taken a fancy to you. He is planning on making you his Number Two. What do you think of that?”
Ping’er darts a beseeching glance at Xifeng. Even to Xifeng’s suspicious eyes, Ping’er does not evince the least sign of triumph or pleasure. She looks wretched.
“Come now, Ping’er,” Lady Jia prompts her again. “Why don’t you give Master Lian a kowtow to thank him for the great honor he is paying you?”
Finally Ping’er whispers, “Only if my mistress agrees.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Lady Jia says. “Your mistress agrees. Master Lian has agreed to let you continue serving her, so you don’t have to feel like you’re abandoning her.”
“But—” Still Ping’er hesitates. She looks at Xifeng again. “Are you sure?”
Ping’er is giving her another chance, yet Xifeng cannot bring herself to admit her weakness. She is too conscious of the maids moving around her, trying to do their work as silently as possible so they can catch every word. No matter how hard she works running the household, everyone hates her for her strictness. They cannot wait for her to show her vulnerability so they can attack.
She shrugs, feigning indifference. “I don’t mind,” she says. She turns to Lian. “I should think you could get someone a lot prettier and younger than Ping’er. But if that’s what you want, suit yourself.”
Lian smiles at Ping’er, ignoring Xifeng’s jibe. “You heard her. She doesn’t mind.” He takes Ping’er’s hand. “I’ll go and consult an astrologer about a lucky date for the wedding.”
“Why didn’t you tell him that you didn’t want to?” Xifeng says, when she and Ping’er are alone in their own apartment.
Ping’er stares at her. “How could I? I’m only a slave.”
The Red Chamber Page 6
