“That’s all right. I’ll probably get there faster than you. I’ll meet you by the front entrance. Baoyu, Lian, you take care of Granny.”
In a moment, he is out in the blazing sun. There is little pedestrian traffic, and he walks briskly, quickly losing sight of his own carriage in the crush of other vehicles. He notices that all the stores are closed, their doors shut and awnings down. Other than those hurrying to the Palace to mourn, there is no one on the streets. It is eerily silent.
Within a few hundred yards of the Palace, the pedestrians grow denser. When he approaches the enormous flight of stairs up to the throne room, he is caught in the crowd of mourners disembarking from their carriages. He tries to find a spot to wait for his mother and the others, but is driven towards the stairway by the press of people. He is forced through the entranceway, and then up the stairs. On the fourth or fifth step, he turns and sees Jia Yucun a few steps back. It is too solemn an occasion to call out, so he raises his eyebrows and nods his head, trying to get Yucun’s attention. It seems impossible that Yucun does not see him—he is looking right in Jia Zheng’s direction—but Yucun turns away without acknowledging the greeting.
He catches sight of numerous other colleagues and acquaintances on either side of him, escorting the female members of their families, wives or elderly mothers, some of whom have not appeared in public for years. He notices that same eerie silence. It strikes him that few people are actually crying, but instead wear tense, watchful expressions. What do they fear? Near the top of the stairs, he sees the Prime Minister, Nian Gengyao, looking haggard with grief.
With a surge like the breaking of a wave, Jia Zheng is thrust through the great doors into the throne room. Raising his eyes over the heads in front of him, he sees the massive black coffin on a dais flanked by rows of kneeling monks. Half blinded by tears, his eyes go automatically to the throne to the right of the coffin where he has so often seen the Emperor. To his amazement, it is not empty. Prince Yongzheng is in his father’s place. He stares at the ugly, clever face blazing with triumph, at the golden robes embroidered with dragons that only the Emperor himself can wear. He had thought his grief was so great that it left no room for any other emotion, but he was wrong, for now his heart pounds with fear.
11
By the fourth day of mourning, Baoyu is exhausted. He has spent the last three days, from daylight until ten o’clock, at the Palace kneeling and kowtowing amid the crowds of mourners. The first night back from the Palace, he had gone straight to Daiyu’s rooms in his mourning robes. Discovering them empty, and all her possessions gone, he rushed to Tanchun’s room in a panic. The gates of Tanchun’s apartment were locked, and he had had to sneak back to her bedroom window to wake her. All she could tell him was that Lady Jia was angry at Daiyu and had moved her into a storeroom in Xifeng’s apartments. He had rushed to Xifeng’s apartments, leaving Tanchun in midsentence. To his relief, the gates of Xifeng’s apartments were still open—he could see lit lanterns in Xifeng’s rooms, and could hear Qiaojie crying. When he got to the storeroom, he found two maids standing watch outside. He begged and pleaded with them to let him speak to Daiyu, even offering them bribes, but they refused, saying that Baoyu was expressly forbidden to see her. At a loss, he had gone back to his own apartments to lie down, and then returned two hours later. This time, Xifeng’s front gates were locked. He climbed into the compound by scaling a crab apple tree outside the wall. There were two different maids standing guard, and they had been so scared by his sudden appearance in the middle of the night that they threatened to start screaming if he did not go away.
Now, after the third night of failing to see Daiyu, he puts on his mourning robes and walks straight to Lady Jia’s. In the front room he finds Xifeng helping Granny dress. His father, already in mourning clothes, slumps in a chair. He looks terrible, his face a ghastly yellow, and Baoyu wonders whether he, too, has passed a sleepless night. He feels guilty for bringing up something to worry and upset his father even more, but forces himself to begin. “I need to speak to you.”
Xifeng shoots him a look. She seems to know what he wants to talk about. “This isn’t a good time, Baoyu. We have to set out for the Palace in an hour, and no one has even had breakfast.”
Baoyu stands before his father. “Father, Daiyu is locked up in a storeroom.”
“What?” His father lifts his bowed head. “Locked up?”
“Yes,” Baoyu says, before Granny can strike in with an explanation. “Shouldn’t she be released at once?”
Jia Zheng looks bewildered. “Yes, of course.” He gives his head a shake as if to clear it. “Why has she been locked up?”
“You don’t know what the two of them have been getting up to at night,” Granny Jia puts in. “I had to stop it, and didn’t know what else to do!”
“Is this true?” Jia Zheng looks at Baoyu. Baoyu is struck again by how wretched his father seems, almost physically ill. He asks the question not as if he is interested in the answer, but as if respect for his mother obliges him to ask.
“I did visit her in the night sometimes. It was very wrong, and I won’t do it again.” He looks around at them, first his father, who hardly seems to be taking his words in, then Xifeng, and then Granny. He wanted to find them all together: If he could get even one of them to support his marriage to Daiyu, surely he would be able to convince the other two. “I want to break my betrothal to Baochai. I love Daiyu, and I won’t be able to live”—he had meant to say “to be happy,” but somehow these words had come to his lips instead—“without her.”
“Break the betrothal? We’ll do no such thing,” Lady Jia says. He wonders how he could ever have thought that she loved him. Confusedly, he recalls all those years when she had doted on him and indulged him in every way. Now, everything has shifted, and looking into her eyes, he feels that they have become enemies. “It’s an excellent match. Baochai is a well-brought-up young woman, not like Daiyu, who is arrogant and—”
“Why are you worrying about it now, Baoyu?” Xifeng says. “We are in national mourning. No one will be able to get married for six months.” Her voice is not ungentle. He sees from her face that she is exhausted as well. He remembers how he hears Qiaojie crying when he goes to Xifeng’s apartments late at night. He realizes that she wants to avoid an argument when they are about to set off for another long day at the Palace.
“I understand that getting married now is impossible, but I need this to be settled. What if Granny arranges Daiyu’s betrothal to someone else, or has her sent away? What if Daiyu is mistreated? She has already been locked up like a criminal, when she has done nothing wrong!” He is beyond caring whether he offends his grandmother. He cannot afford to hold anything back. He goes to Xifeng and takes her hand. “Xifeng, you of all people understand how hard it is—to be married to someone, when the couple isn’t well suited …” He stumbles awkwardly.
She jerks her hand away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you expect me to understand?”
He realizes he has made a misstep. Xifeng’s pride will not allow her to admit her miserable situation with Lian. How often has he heard her repeat the saying: “You must hide a broken arm in your sleeve”?
She seems to recover, for she says after a moment, “If you insist on talking about your betrothal at a time like this, let’s try to talk about it in a sensible manner. In the first place, in theory, breaking off the betrothal is not in itself impossible, if handled with proper tact. After all, it is not as if the betrothal was ever made public.” Here, she pauses and darts a quick look at Jia Zheng. Baoyu receives the impression that she does not care for Baochai, and would not be displeased if the betrothal were broken. She wishes to show his father that, if he himself does not approve of the betrothal, she will be his ally against Lady Jia. But his father remains slumped in his chair, not even looking at her.
“I tell you,” Lady Jia cries, incensed by Xifeng’s defection. “It’s not to be considered. What will people thin
k if we break off the betrothal, especially after Mrs. Xue and Baochai have lived with us so long? People would assume we had backed out because there was some problem with Baochai’s reputation, and then Mrs. Xue would have trouble making a new match for her. She would never agree!”
“I was just saying,” Xifeng says, “that it was possible in theory, but difficult in practice.” She looks at Baoyu. He cannot tell whether she is changing her position, because she has received no support from his father and is now trying to please Granny Jia, as usual. “For one thing, the dowry has been paid, and in fact has already been spent on some major repairs on the farms down south.”
This objection strikes him as laughable. “Why can’t we just pay them back?”
She looks at him as if his question is singularly foolish. “Because we can’t afford to.”
Baoyu is dumbfounded. “What do you mean?” he says, with a little laugh. “I thought we had plenty of money.”
“The men in this family are all the same. They never pay the least attention to money until they want to spend it! The household has been running on a deficit for two years. Last year we had to borrow money. We’ve been spending all the money from the farms for years, but not putting anything back into maintaining the properties. Why do you think we waited until we got Baochai’s dowry to do the repairs?”
He is stunned, then furious. Never in his life has it occurred to him that money might present an obstacle to anything he wished to do. “Why was I never told before?”
“You never asked, did you?”
He has to admit that he has never shown the least interest in the practical affairs of the household. He would have made more of an effort to pass the Exams if it had ever occurred to him that the family might actually need his official salary. “Father, Granny, did you know this? Is this true?”
Granny appears not to be listening. Perhaps she has so much money hidden in her apartments that she is unconcerned about the finances of the rest of the household. His father shakes his head despairingly, and buries his face in his hands. “What does it matter? We’re ruined anyway. That’s what I came here to tell you this morning, but I didn’t dare.” He is speaking to his mother, but does not turn his face in her direction.
“What do you mean?” Baoyu says.
“Haven’t you been paying attention to the political situation?”
“No, I—” He had been so absorbed by his worry for Daiyu that he had hardly thought about it. “I know Prince Yongzheng must have staged some sort of a coup …”
Jia Zheng lifts his face from his hands. “One of Prime Minister Nian’s clerks came to see me this morning before sunrise because he didn’t want to be seen.” His voice drops to a hoarse croak. Baoyu kneels on the floor before him to catch the words. “They say Prince Yongzheng paid the eunuchs to poison His Highness, and then wouldn’t let the Imperial Physician treat him. He brought his soldiers into the Palace when His Highness was dying. That was how he seized the throne. When I think about His Highness, spending his last moments helpless and betrayed by the people who were supposed to serve him …” His father buries his face in his hands again.
Baoyu puts his hand on his father’s shoulder. “But the other Princes? Surely they’ll contest the legitimacy of such a succession.”
“As soon as Yongzheng’s soldiers were in the Palace, they arrested Prince Yinsi and Prince Yintang.” Prince Yinsi and Yintang are the eighth and ninths sons of the late Emperor, also his favorites. “Even before he seized the throne, he had sent out soldiers to intercept Prince Yinti. He was arrested yesterday, halfway between Shouzhou and the Capital, while everyone was at the Palace mourning.” Prince Yinti had made it to less than one hundred li from the Capital, barely a few days’ march. His imminent arrival must have been the reason that Prince Yongzheng had taken the drastic step of having the Emperor poisoned.
Baoyu sees that his father is horrified by these arrests, but to him they mean something different. Perhaps there will not be fighting after all, because the rival Princes have all been imprisoned. “But what does this have to do with us? I know Prince Yongzheng dislikes the Imperial Bondsmen, but do you really think that will affect us?”
His father gives a little laugh that strikes Baoyu as almost hysterical. “What does it have to do with us? Nian Gengyao was arrested last night when he got home from the Palace. They didn’t even wait until the first few days of mourning were over! And not just Nian himself—all his sons and brothers were arrested, too, and his household confiscated. And then early this morning, Cao Fu and Li Xu were arrested …”
For the first time, fear grips Baoyu’s heart. If the new Emperor is so insecure about his own power, he will purge everyone known to be a supporter of one of the old Emperor’s favorites. “But, Father,” he stammers, “those men, Prime Minister Nian, and Cao and Li, were known to be proponents of Prince Yinti—”
“Not necessarily. Li Xu was arrested for having once given Prince Yinsi a couple of singing girls.”
“But Father”—Baoyu looks searchingly into his father’s face—“you have never gotten involved in this sort of thing. I knew you wanted Prince Yinti to succeed, but you haven’t been indiscreet enough to say so in front of other people.”
“I can’t remember what I said!” Jia Zheng thrusts himself violently up from his seat and begins to pace the room. “I made no secret that I thought Prince Yinti the rightful heir. Why would I? It’s what His Highness intended. No, wait—” He stops short. “At New Year’s, Jia Yucun told me to get rid of those gilt lions that Prince Yinti gave us, and I refused and said …”
“Jia Yucun?” Baoyu’s hope ebbs. “Haven’t you heard?”
His father stares at him. “What?”
“I always wondered why he spent so much time with the eunuchs. Not long ago the Prince of Beijing told me that he had become very close to Prince Yongzheng, a member of his inner circle, in fact.”
“No wonder he has been acting so strangely lately!” Jia Zheng exclaims at the same moment that Lady Jia cries, “It’s all your fault for bringing that upstart here in the first place!”
Baoyu looks from his father towards Lady Jia. Her face is ashen and her hands are shaking. “You never know when you should keep quiet! You went around blathering about the Princes just to make yourself seem important. If you are arrested, what’s to become of us?”
“I didn’t mean any harm—”
“You should have thought about your seventy-four-year-old mother before you tried to show off—”
Pained by the sight of his father being scolded like a child, Baoyu rouses himself. “That doesn’t matter.” He takes his father’s hand. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help ourselves?”
“Can’t we get rid of the gilt lions?” Xifeng interrupts. She is pale but perfectly composed.
“It’s too late for that. If we tried to do anything now, we could be charged with destroying state’s evidence.” Jia Zheng sits down again, staring at the floor. He says, as if thinking aloud, “Our only hope is to get someone to pull strings for us. Most people will want nothing to do with us, but our relatives by marriage have no choice but to stand by us.” He looks at Xifeng. “If we only have time to send messengers to your family before anything happens. I’ll ask Mrs. Xue to send to her brother-in-law in Nanjing …”
The mention of Mrs. Xue stabs Baoyu. “Do you have to ask the Xues?”
His father looks at him. “Why wouldn’t I ask the Xues? They’re extremely well connected.”
He manages to stammer, “How can we break the betrothal if we ask them to help us?”
Jia Zheng’s startled expression makes it clear that he had entirely forgotten Baoyu’s desire to break the betrothal. “Good Heavens, how can you be thinking about that at a time like this? We need to stay on good terms with the Xues.”
“Can’t we just ask the Wangs?”
“Don’t you understand? We have to do everything we can, and even that might not be enough. Do you realize what�
��s at stake? If—Heaven forbid—I end up in prison, what do you think will happen to Granny and your sister and cousins?”
“But—” he begins, and stops. For the first time he understands the chains that bind him to his family, each link forged from obligation and sacrifice, from which he can never escape. No wonder Granny had looked at him with such hatred. She is bound to him as much as he is bound to her. He thinks about how he has misled Daiyu into thinking he could marry her. Locked up without any word from him, she must believe that he has betrayed her.
Xifeng says, “Look at the time. We have to leave for the Palace in ten minutes.”
Baoyu does not move. His father, also, remains silent and motionless. At last, Jia Zheng heaves himself to his feet. “I suppose we must go.”
“Where is the jade?” Granny says.
Baoyu is startled, wondering why Granny is thinking about the jade at such a time. “I gave it to Daiyu.”
“I know, but I took it from her.”
For an instant his anger jerks him out of his despair. “You had no right to! I want her to have it.”
Ignoring him, Lady Jia says, “Where did you put it, Xifeng?”
“I gave it to you.”
“Are you sure?” Lady Jia says, frowning. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Maybe you gave it to Snowgoose for safekeeping. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Snowgoose!” Lady Jia calls. The maid does not appear. “Oh, yes. I sent her out to the stables. I don’t know why she isn’t back yet.”
Baoyu feels a perverse triumph. If Daiyu cannot have the jade, he does not want anyone else, including himself, to have it.
There is the sound of running feet outside the front room. A gate-woman rushes in, wild-eyed. “Some men—they look like soldiers—have broken into the mansion. They’re coming into the Inner Quarters—”
“What sort of men?” Jia Zheng turns pale.
The Red Chamber Page 28
