“Maybe if there’s time, we can do one of each kind. I do want her to be happy with her new apartments. Tell us, again, Pan, what she is like.”
“Don’t ask me,” Pan demurs. “You know I’m no good at describing things.”
“Is there anyone we know that she reminds you of?”
“She’s a little like Xifeng.”
Baochai does not find this comparison reassuring. While she admires Xifeng for her abilities as a manager, her desire for control does not make her easy to get along with, either as a wife or as a daughter-in-law. “In what way is she like Xifeng?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she lively, and fond of joking, like Cousin Xifeng is?” Baochai prompts.
Pan’s brow creases from the effort of reflection. “Not exactly. She is more serious, and—and dignified than Xifeng is.”
“In what way is she like Xifeng, then?” Baochai persists.
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose she’s not quiet, like you. She’s more sure of herself, like Cousin Xifeng. That’s what I meant. But she is a hundred times prettier than Cousin Xifeng!”
Baochai hesitates before asking, “Is she fond of having her own way, like Xifeng is?”
Pan bursts out laughing. “Of course not! You must think me a fool, if that’s the sort of girl you think I would want to marry! She’s not like that at all. Quite the contrary! She’s very gentle, always eager to do what would please me the most. You know, since her mother and she have been without a man in the family for so long, they were especially interested in my advice and opinions.”
This speech does not set Baochai’s mind at rest as much as Pan seems to think it should. She says nothing more, and settles back to her sewing, waiting for the bride’s arrival in the Second Month.
Many years ago, when the Xues still lived in Nanjing, an older girl had come to visit and had taken away Baochai’s favorite doll. Her father was alive then; Baochai must have been only four or five. The girl—Baochai could remember nothing about her or her family—had noticed Baochai cuddling the doll and pretending to put it to bed. When she snatched it out of Baochai’s hands, Baochai was more startled than anything else. She at first assumed that the girl meant to play with it for a while and then give it back. But the girl did not play with it, just put it in her sleeve so that Baochai could not have it. Eventually Baochai got up the nerve to ask for the doll back, but the girl simply turned away and started to play with another of Baochai’s toys. Baochai thought about tattling—her mother and father were sitting in the next room chatting with the little girl’s parents—but she was too polite and too shy, too deeply imbued with her duties as hostess, and said nothing. Eventually, the girl left, with the doll still hidden in her sleeve. It was only that night that Baochai had wept silently in bed, trying to fall asleep without her doll to cuddle. She had never had a favorite toy again.
At the sight of Jingui’s face, when Pan pulls off her red veil, the incident comes back to her after all these years. She recognizes the high cheekbones, the smallish, bright eyes under thin brows, and, especially, the short nose with its pinched nostrils and unusually pointed tip. Of course, Jingui has changed a great deal. She is now a tall young lady, undeniably handsome in her bridal finery, with the sort of willowy figure that Baochai envies. Her eyes are darkened with kohl, and her thin lips are heavily rouged. Yet there is still something about her, some harshness to her expression, some hard, fixed quality to her gaze that reminds Baochai of that girl from so many years ago.
Now as Pan, beaming with pride, leads Jingui to greet Mrs. Xue, she notices that Jingui carries herself confidently, as Pan had said. Jingui flashes a bold smile at her mother-in-law, hardly a blushing bride. Mrs. Xue, so happy that she is nearly crying, embraces her. Jingui receives her caresses with composure, but does not return them. Then Pan leads her to greet Lady Jia and Uncle Zheng. Xia Jingui handles these introductions with the same smiling aplomb. Baochai hears Lady Jia commenting to Mrs. Xue that the new bride is not shy and tongue-tied like so many young ladies these days. Baochai is surprised by Granny Jia’s favorable impression of Jingui. For years it has been drummed into her that young girls should be demure and submissive, barely daring to meet the eyes of their elders. However, she has long ago discovered that behavior that would be considered a grave shortcoming in ordinary people is easily forgiven in those of unusual physical beauty.
Now it is time for Baochai to meet Jingui. She moves forward, smiling, knowing that she must on no account stint on the courtesies. For a moment she wonders whether Jingui will recognize her, but Jingui seems hardly to look at her. She bows as low as possible, saying, “Older sister.” When she rises from her bow, she smiles and takes Jingui’s hand, saying, “I am so glad that you have come. I hope we will soon be as close as real sisters!”
At her words, Jingui’s attention finally seems to focus on her. Jingui gives no sign of recognition. Instead, her eyes sweep Baochai from head to toe with an appraising look that makes her feel dowdy and clumsy. She wishes she had dressed up more, like the other girls.
“Little sister,” Jingui says, dismissing her with a flick of the eye, before moving on to greet Baoyu.
When Xifeng steps out of Xue Pan’s wedding feast to ask a maid to bring more samshoo, someone grabs her and pulls her into the shadow of a pine tree. She knows as soon as he touches her that it is Jia Yucun. All evening at the wedding feast, she has sensed him looking at her. She has had to force herself to keep her eyes severely away.
“Will you stop looking at me? Someone is going to notice—”
Her words are drowned when he kisses her on the mouth.
“Stop it. Someone may see.” She puts her hand up and pushes his lips away, yet she leaves her fingers on his lips, and he kisses them.
“Slip away with me.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Just for a few minutes. Aren’t there any empty rooms anywhere?”
She thinks for a moment. Without a word, she leads him to the other side of the reception hall where there are some unused rooms. This side of the hall is deserted. She fumbles at the heavy ring of keys at her waist, and opens a door.
“Clever girl, to have the key,” he murmurs, kissing her neck.
They step into the room. She shuts the door behind them. They are in pitch blackness. They find each other by feel and sink to the ground. He is on top of her, kissing her, his hands scrabbling against her as if frantic to touch her bare skin. To her surprise, she is just as frantic to touch him. Unlike last time, when she was so numb, she feels every touch of his lips and body, her pleasure so sharp that it is almost pain. He is pulling down her trousers beneath her gown. She feels his hand warm and firm against her bare buttocks. She presses her buttocks against his hand. He slips his finger inside her and she feels how wet she is inside. With a groan, she presses against his shoulders and pushes with her legs so that she is on top of him. She tugs at his trousers, feeling his hardness through the silk.
“What do you want?” he whispers teasingly.
“I want you inside me,” she says, pressing her body against his. She has never spoken to Lian like this.
With a laugh, he pulls down his trousers. She feels his penis rearing up between her legs and lowers herself down on him so quickly that they both gasp. What has gotten into her? she thinks, as she shuts her eyes, feeling heat suffuse her. She feels like she is waking up, coming to life, after the numbness of long misery.
8
“Mother, can I speak to you alone?” Instead of going to the Ministry after breakfast, Jia Zheng pokes his head into Lady Jia’s room.
His mother looks up from the bowl of red date soup she is spooning into her mouth. “Well, what is it?”
He does not speak, looking at Snowgoose, who is rearranging the cushions on the kang.
“Well, what?” his mother repeats impatiently.
“I said ‘alone,’ ” he mutters, embarrassed.
“Snowgoose, you will have to
go someplace else. Lord Jia doesn’t want you to hear what he has to say,” Lady Jia says.
He burns with stifled resentment at the way she seems to trivialize what he will say, even before she knows what it is. He does not speak until Snowgoose has left the room. “Baoyu’s schoolmaster came to see me at the Ministry yesterday afternoon.”
Interested, she puts her soup down. “What did he say?”
He hesitates, knowing his words will wound her. Deep inside he feels a secret pleasure at giving her evidence that Baoyu is not as wonderful as she has always believed. “He discouraged me from registering Baoyu for the Exams this year. He said that Baoyu will most probably fail, and maybe even make a fool of himself—”
“What nonsense! He’s just prejudiced against Baoyu.”
“Why would he be?”
“Oh, I don’t know! Jealous, perhaps.”
“I’m afraid not. I asked Jia Yucun to come over last night to read Baoyu’s essays and give me a second opinion. He also said the essays showed a very poor grasp of the Eight-Legged form. Also that Baoyu’s attempts to interpret the Classics are so strained as to be almost laughable.”
“Why would you listen to some nobody from the country?” his mother says indignantly.
“He’s now Under-Secretary to the President of the Board of War—”
His mother shakes her head, bewildered. “But I don’t understand. Just a few months ago, we were getting reports about what wonderful progress he was making …”
“The schoolmaster said that he was doing well, until about a month before New Year’s, when he suddenly started to not pay attention in class, and not hand in homework. What do you think could have happened?”
Lady Jia is silent for a moment. Finally, she says unpleasantly, “Well, that was around the time you beat him half to death, wasn’t it?”
He has to control his anger at this attempt to blame him for Baoyu’s shortcomings. “No. That occurred to me as well. I asked the schoolmaster specifically whether Baoyu’s performance started to suffer after the beating. He was out of school more than two weeks then. The teacher said that he remembered that Baoyu’s work when he came back was still good. The change came later, closer to the Twelfth Month.”
“Then what could it have been?”
“Nothing happened then? Nothing with Huan?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then I can’t think of anything either.” He pauses before saying hesitantly, “Only, there was that remark that Xichun made at New Year’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“She said Baoyu was moping because Daiyu had gone back to the south.”
Lady Jia is silent for a moment. Finally, she gives a little laugh and says, “He’ll forget her in a month. He never could have thought seriously about her.”
From her reaction, Jia Zheng realizes that what Xichun said was true: Baoyu was attached to Daiyu, and his mother knows it. “You think he did care for her?”
His mother shrugs. “You know what he’s like. He is always infatuated with someone or other.”
“It was my impression that it was usually a maid. This is the first time he’s been infatuated, as you call it, with someone he could actually be betrothed to.”
His mother stares at him incredulously. “You would actually consider betrothing him to her?”
“Why not, if he is so distressed by her departure that he can no longer study?” He pauses, trying to remember the reports from the schoolmaster over the last six months. “In fact, now that I think of it, he never made such good progress as this fall when she was here. That was why I thought that this year he would finally be ready to take the Exams.”
“It’s nonsense to think that how he does in school has anything to do with her. Such a match is entirely out of the question.”
He senses, as he has a few times before, that his mother for some reason holds Daiyu in dislike. “Why not?” He tries to reason with her. “It is not an ideal match, but it’s not a bad match by any means. Daiyu is a sensible, intelligent girl, and the Lins are a good family. In general, I don’t believe in first cousins marrying, but if his heart is really set on her—if he still cares for her in a year or two, after he has passed the Exams, I see no real objection to the match.”
“No objection to the match!” his mother cries. “She doesn’t have a penny, and the Lins have all but died out! What’s worse is her upbringing. Her manners are disgraceful.”
As he watches his mother’s brows draw together over her nose, it strikes him that her old anger at Min, far from dissipating at her death, has transferred itself to Min’s daughter. While it pains him that his mother’s resentment against Min is so implacable, he knows it is useless to argue, so he falls silent, willing to let the subject drop.
His mother takes up her soup again and begins to drink it noisily. “And besides, I believe that you are wrong about Baoyu.”
“What do you mean?” The anger on her face has been replaced by a look of shrewd calculation.
“I don’t think he cared particularly for Daiyu. Don’t you see his infatuation with her is a symptom of a larger problem?”
“What problem?”
“You treat him like a child, but he has been shaving for more than four years. You can’t expect him not to have natural appetites.” She casts him a significant look. “He is nineteen and has always been physically mature for his age. He is more than old enough to be betrothed.”
“I’ve told you my position on that before,” he retorts. “He can be betrothed after he passes the Exams, like Zhu was.”
“But he is already several years older than Zhu was. How long are you going to make him wait? You will just be bringing trouble on us if you do.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?” He is disquieted by her insinuating expression.
“He isn’t a little boy anymore. You will have to deal with other incidents like that affair with Silver, and maybe even worse, if you keep denying him.”
“Denying him! How is it denying him to require him to concentrate on his studies until he passes the Exams?” he says, but his mother’s words have set spark to the fear that he has harbored since the Silver incident. “I’ve always told you that it isn’t right for him to live in the Women’s Quarters. It gives people something to gossip about. And besides, how can we be sure that some silly maid won’t sleep with him and get pregnant? Then we’ll have a scandal on our hands.”
His mother gives a knowing laugh. “If he has a good-looking wife, why would he sneak around with maids?”
He winces a little at his mother’s crudity. “But if I let him marry, how will he be able to concentrate on his studies?”
“Why not betroth him, to give him something to look forward to? And then he can be married after he takes the Exams.” She laughs again. “I assure you, you’ll be surprised at what a powerful incentive it is!”
He hesitates. Every time his mother has brought up making a match for Baoyu, he has strenuously resisted. In the first place, he feared Baoyu was so easily distracted that the novelty of being married would make it impossible for him to concentrate. He worried also that Baoyu, moody and unpredictable, was incapable of treating a young wife with the forbearance and steadiness she might expect. He begins to feel that he is trying to put off the inevitable. He reminds himself that even Pan, who is less reliable than Baoyu, is now married. Pan’s example reminds him of the importance of finding a suitable match, which may take months or even years. “I suppose we can start to make some preliminary inquiries …” he begins slowly.
Lady Jia begins to laugh, as if he is being very foolish. “Why make inquiries when the answer is right in front of our noses?”
“What do you mean?”
She laughs merrily. “Didn’t your wife always joke with Mrs. Xue about Baoyu and Baochai marrying, when they were little?”
“Yes, but I hoped that nonsense would be forgotten.”
She opens her eyes at him. “Why is it nons
ense?”
“In the first place, I disapprove of first cousins marrying.”
“You were willing to make an exception for Daiyu. Why not for Baochai when the match is so much better? Then there’s that saying about gold and jade being a perfect match.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“You know, Baoyu has his jade, and Baochai has her gold locket.”
“I don’t have any patience for those sorts of superstitions,” he tells her. “I’ve always thought you made far too much of that jade.”
“It isn’t a superstition. It’s predestination. All I know is that I couldn’t think of a better match for him,” his mother says. “Tell me, what fault can you find with Baochai? The Xues are extremely rich and influential. Baochai has been well brought up, and knows perfectly how to get along in a big household like ours. Of all the girls in the family, she has always been the most considerate and capable. I don’t know what you could possibly have against her.”
“I didn’t say I had anything against her.” The truth is he has no particular objection to her, only he has never grown the least fond of her over the years she has lived at Rongguo. She is too cold, too composed, for him to find her endearing, as he does his other nieces, Daiyu and Xichun. “But there are many other excellent families in the Capital. I don’t understand why you are so set on this match.”
“The one thing you might say against Baochai,” she continues, ignoring him, “is that her looks are only passable. Her hands and figure are all very well, but her face … On the other hand, it’s possible to be too attractive …”
“I don’t consider having a brother like Pan to be an advantage.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s any real harm in Pan. There’s always a scapegrace in every family.”
“Are you sure their temperaments are suitable?” Baochai and Baoyu strike him as polar opposites: Baoyu suffers from a surfeit of emotion, while she seems to have too little. “She seems so old for her age. Won’t she find Baoyu rather childish?”
The Red Chamber Page 18
