The Golden Lotus, Volume 1

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  This pin belonged to Yulou, but Jinlian thought some singing girl had given it to him. She thrust it into her sleeve. “Now will you say you haven’t changed? Where is the pin I gave you?”

  “The other day,” Ximen said, “I was rather tipsy and fell off my horse. My hat blew away and my hair was all in a mess. I looked everywhere for the pin, but could not find it.”

  Jinlian snapped her fingers in his face. “Brother, you are so drunk you don’t know what you’re saying. A child of three would see through a story like that.”

  “Don’t be so hard on his Lordship,” old woman Wang said. “He is one of those men who can see a bee piddling forty miles away, but not an elephant outside their very own doors.”

  “When she is nearly done,” Ximen Qing said, “you begin.”

  Jinlian saw a scarlet-trimmed finely gilded fan. She snatched it from him and took it to the light to look at. She was well skilled in the arts of love, and she was sure that certain marks upon it had been caused by teeth. She came to the conclusion that some girl must have given him the fan, and without a word tore it into pieces. Before Ximen Qing could stop her it was in shreds.

  “My friend Bu Zhidao gave me that fan,” he said, “and I’ve kept it put away for a long time. I’ve only been using it for two or three days, and now you’ve gone and spoiled it.”

  Jinlian plagued him a little longer, and then Ying’er brought in tea. The woman told her to put down the tray and kowtow to Ximen Qing.

  “You two have been quarreling quite long enough,” old woman Wang said. “Don’t forget that you have more important business to attend to. I’ll go into the kitchen and get something ready for you.”

  Jinlian told Ying’er to bring wine and refreshments in honor of Ximen’s birthday. The girl obeyed and soon a meal was set upon the table. Jinlian brought out her own present and, setting it on a tray, offered it to him. Besides a pair of black silk shoes, there was a pair of breeches made of purple silk, double sewn and embroidered with a design of pine, bamboo, and plum blossom, the three cold-weather friends. They were lined with green silk, scented with fragrant herbs, and the braces were again of purple. The stomacher was embroidered with roses. There was also a pin like the petals of the double lotus, on which was engraved a verse of four sentences, each sentence consisting of four characters:

  A double lotus, I,

  To dress your hair.

  Do not forget me

  Like a neglected ornament.

  Ximen Qing was delighted with these presents. He caught Jinlian to him and kissed her. “I never knew you were so clever,” he said.

  Jinlian told Ying’er to bring the wine jar that she might offer Ximen a cup of wine. As she bowed four times in reverence before him, she seemed as graceful as a branch laden with blossoms, and each time she stood up as straight as a candle. Ximen Qing quickly lifted her up, and they sat together side by side. Old woman Wang drank several cups of wine with them and then went home, her face very red. Then they abandoned all restraint, and drank for a long time till darkness fell.

  Dark clouds have gathered over the mountains

  A chain of deepest mist stretches far into the distance.

  Stars come out to challenge the brightness of the moon

  And the green waters of the lake mirror the sky.

  The monks return to their ancient temples

  While, in the depths of the forest, the crows fly, crying

  Caw, caw, caw.

  People hasten back to the distant villages

  And in the tiny hamlets the dogs bark

  Bow, wow, wow.

  Ximen Qing decided to stay the night with Jinlian, and ordered the boys to take his horse home. That night they spent their whole strength in the enjoyment of one another, and their passionate delight knew no bounds. Yet, as the proverb says, “When joy is at its height, there comes sad news.” The time flew by.

  * * *

  We must now return for a while to Wu Song. He had taken the magistrate’s treasure to the palace of the Grand Marshal in the Eastern Capital. When he had safely handed over the letters and the chests, he stayed some time waiting for the return letter, and then ordered his men to start back to Shandong. When he had started, it was the third or fourth month; now it was already autumn. Rain fell incessantly, and they had to halt for a few days. He had already been away about three months, and somehow, on this journey homewards, he seemed unable to rid himself of a feeling of great uneasiness. At last he made up his mind to send one of the soldiers before him to carry a report to the magistrate and a letter to his brother, Wu Da. In this he said he would be home some time during the eighth month.

  The soldier arrived and, after giving the letter to the magistrate, went off to find Wu Da. It so happened that old woman Wang was standing outside her door when the soldier was just about to knock at Wu Da’s house. She went across and said to him, “What is it you want?”

  “I have orders from Captain Wu,” the soldier said, “to give this letter to his brother.”

  “Master Wu Da is not at home,” the old woman said. “He has gone to visit his family tombs. Give me the letter and he shall have it as soon as he comes back. That is the best thing you can do.”

  The soldier saluted, took out the letter, and gave it to the old woman. Then he jumped on his horse and rode away. Old woman Wang immediately brought the letter to Jinlian’s back door. She and Ximen Qing were not yet up; they had spent half the night in amorous combat.

  “Get up, Master and Mistress,” the old woman cried, “here is news for you. Wu Song has sent a soldier with a letter for his brother to say he is coming back shortly. I took the letter and sent the soldier about his business, but you will have to do something about it, and not waste any time.”

  Ximen Qing was feeling perfectly contented with life, but, when he heard this news, it seemed to him that the eight pieces of his skull had fallen apart and somebody was pouring a great jar of ice and snow through the opening. He and Jinlian quickly leapt out of bed, threw their clothes on, and asked the old woman to come in. She gave the letter to Ximen Qing to read. It only said that Wu Song would be back not later than the Autumn Day, but this was enough to make the lovers beside themselves with anxiety.

  “What shall we do, Stepmother?” they cried. “If you can only think of some way out for us, we shall be so grateful that we shall find a splendid reward for you. We are so fond of one another that we cannot bear to be apart. But, if Wu Song comes back, we shall be obliged to separate, and life won’t be worth living.”

  “Sir,” said the old woman, “why all this to-do? I told you once before that first marriages were arranged for people by their parents, but that second marriages are the concern of no one but the parties themselves. Nobody has ever suggested that a man and his brother’s wife belong to the same family. Wu Da has been dead a hundred days or so. Lady, you must ask a few monks to come and burn his tablet before Wu Song comes back. Then you, Sir, must send a sedan chair and take her into your establishment. When Wu Song does come back, I will have a word with him, and what is there he can do? You will be able to spend all your lives together. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

  “You are right, Stepmother,” Ximen Qing said. He and Jinlian breakfasted together, and it was decided that on the sixth day of the eighth month there should be a final requiem for Wu Da, when they would send for monks and have the tablet burned. Two days later Ximen Qing would take Jinlian into his own household. When all these arrangements had been made, Daian came with a horse and Ximen went home.

  Time sped like an arrow in flight. The sun and moon crossed and recrossed like a weaver’s shuttles. It was the sixth day of the eighth month. Ximen Qing brought several taels of silver to Wu Da’s house, and told old woman Wang to go to the Temple of Eternal Felicity and ask six monks to come and sing a dirge for Wu Da and to burn his tablet the same evening. Before it was fully light the temple attendants came with their sacred books and instruments. They set up a lectern and hung th
eir pictures all around, and old woman Wang in the kitchen helped the cooks to prepare vegetarian food. Ximen Qing spent the whole day there. Soon the monks arrived, tinkling their bells and beating their drums. They read their sacred books and intoned their exorcisms.

  Jinlian would perform none of the due purifications. She slept with Ximen Qing till the sun was high in the heavens, and she would not have risen then, had not the monks come to invite her to burn incense, sign the documents, and make her reverence to Buddha. Finally she dressed herself in white and went to worship Buddha.

  As soon as the monks saw her, their Buddhist hearts were troubled and their Buddhist natures stimulated to a furious degree, so that their passions ran away with them, and they were in such a state that they did not know what they were doing.

  The precentor lost his wits and, as he read the sacred books

  Knew not if they were upside down.

  The holy priests went mad and read their prayers

  By no means sure what line they read.

  The thurifer upset the vases, and the acolyte seized the incense boat

  Thinking it was his candle.

  The lector should have read “The Mighty Empire of Song”

  But called it “Tang” instead.

  The exorcist, who should have chanted “Master Wu” cried “Mistress Wu.”

  The old monk’s heart so wildly beat

  He missed the drum and struck the young monk’s hand.

  The young monk’s mind was so distraught

  He used the drumstick on the old monk’s head.

  Long patient years of novicehood were all undone

  And had ten thousand saints come down to earth

  It would have been no better.

  Jinlian burned incense before the image of Buddha, signed the papers, and made a reverence. Then she went back to her room and began again to play with Ximen Qing. She never even dreamed of abstaining from wine or any kind of food.

  “If there should be anything that requires attention,” Ximen said to old woman Wang, “you attend to it, and don’t let anybody come to disturb the lady.”

  “You young people enjoy yourselves,” the old woman said, laughing. “If there is anything to be done for these shaven-headed fellows, I’ll do it.”

  Now that the monks had seen how beautiful Wu Da’s widow was, they could not put her out of their minds. When they came back again from their temple after the evening meal, Jinlian was still drinking and making merry with Ximen Qing. There was only a wooden partition between her room and the temporary chapel. One of the monks had come back before the others and was washing his hands in a basin outside the window of her room when he heard soft whisperings and gentle murmurings that left him in little doubt about what was going on. He stopped washing his hands and stood still to listen. He heard Jinlian say, “Sweetheart, how long will you continue? The monks will be back soon and they may hear us. Do let me go. We must finish.”

  “Don’t be in a hurry,” Ximen’s voice said. “I should like to ‘set the cover on fire’ just once more.” It never occurred to them that there was a monk listening to every word they said.

  Then all the monks came back, and they began to make music and intone their orisons. One told another, till there was none who did not know that Wu Da’s widow was entertaining her lover in the house. They waved their arms and feet wildly without the slightest idea of what they were doing. Thus were the Buddhist services performed, and thus, this night, they sped Wu Da’s spirit on its lonely journey.

  Jinlian took off her mourning robes, dressed herself beautifully, and came to stand with Ximen Qing behind the lattice. They watched the monks preparing to burn the tablet and old woman Wang carrying water and fire. At last the tablet and the Buddhist pictures were completely consumed.

  Thievish shaven-heads peered with cold eyes through the lattice. A man and a woman standing shoulder to shoulder could vaguely be seen. This brought to their minds the remembrance of what had happened before, and they struck their instruments discordantly. An old monk’s hat was blown off by the wind and his bluish bald pate appeared. He did not pick up his hat, but went on thumping his instrument and roaring with laughter. Old woman Wang called, “Reverend Fathers, you have finished your service. Why do you beat your instruments any longer?”

  “We haven’t set fire to the cover of a paper stove yet,” one of the monks cried. Ximen Qing heard this, and told the old woman to give them their fee and send them packing, but the old monk insisted that they must see the lady first and thank her.

  “Please tell them that is quite unnecessary,” Jinlian said, but the monks answered with one voice, “Do let us go.” Then, roaring with laughter, they all went off.

  CHAPTER 9

  Wu Song Seeks to Avenge His Brother

  So Ximen Qing and Pan Jinlian burned Wu Da’s tablet. The next day they invited old woman Wang to a farewell party, and gave Ying’er into her charge.

  “When Wu Song comes back,” Ximen Qing said, “how am I to prevent his learning that I have married this lady?”

  “I shall be here,” the old woman said, smiling, “and no matter how inquisitive Wu Song may be, I shall have an answer ready for him. Don’t worry about that.”

  Ximen Qing was only too glad to receive such a comforting reply, and gave the old woman three taels of silver. The same evening he took all Jinlian’s belongings to his own house; the furniture and clothes were given to old woman Wang. The next day he sent a sedan chair with four lanterns, and Jinlian in her best clothes seated herself in it. Old woman Wang went with her as though she represented the bride’s family, and Daian acted as escort. So Jinlian went to her new home. Everybody in the neighborhood knew what was happening, but people feared the rich and powerful Ximen Qing, and nobody dared to interfere. But someone composed a little poem in honor of the occasion.

  Ximen Qing received his new bride, and had an apartment of three rooms set aside for her in the garden. There was a small gate in one of the corners of the courtyard, easily overlooked for it was hidden by flowers and flowerpots. Few people came that way. It was very secluded. One of the three rooms was furnished as a sitting room, and one as a bedroom. Ximen paid sixteen taels of silver for a bed of black lacquer and gilt with a crimson silk net. The chairs and tables were beautifully carved, and everything was arranged with excellent taste.

  Wu Yueniang had two maids, Chunmei and Yuxiao. Ximen Qing directed that Chunmei should act as maid to his new wife, and paid five taels for a little girl called Xiaoyu to take her place with the Great Lady. For another six taels he bought a maid called Qiuju and gave her to Jinlian as a kitchen maid.

  Ximen Qing’s first wife, Chen, had brought with her a servant called Sun Xue’e. She was now about twenty years old, fairly tall and not badlooking. Ximen had allowed her to assume the position of his fourth wife, so that Jinlian ranked as the fifth of his ladies.

  Now that Jinlian was actually established in his own house, Ximen spent every night with her. They played together as merrily as fishes in water, and nothing could have surpassed their pleasure in each other. On the day after her arrival Jinlian put on her finest clothes and, when Chunmei had served her with tea, went to Wu Yueniang’s room to make the acquaintance of the other members of the household. She took with her as a present a pair of shoes. Yueniang sat in her place as mistress of the house, and looked closely at the new bride. She was about twenty-five years old, and very beautiful.

  Yueniang looked at her from her head to her feet; every inch of that exquisite body seemed endowed with the power of fascination. She looked at her from her feet to her head; this extraordinary charm seemed to issue from her as water from a fountain. She was like a translucent pearl lying on a crystal dish, like the early morning moon shining above the topmost branches of a pink apricot tree. Yueniang gazed at her without speaking, and she said to herself, “When the boys came home, they used to say, ‘How strange that Wu Da should have so beautiful a wife.’ I have never seen anyone so beautifu
l. No wonder that brave husband of mine fell in love with her.”

  Jinlian kowtowed to Yueniang, and offered her a present. When the Great Lady had acknowledged her reverence, she turned to Li Jiao’er, Meng Yulou, and Sun Xue’e, and greeted them as sisters. Then she stood till Yueniang bade a maid give her a chair and speak to her as the Fifth Lady.

  Jinlian sat down and secretly considered her new sisters. Yueniang was about twenty-seven years old; her face was as beautiful as a bowl of silver and her eyes were like the kernel of an apricot. Her manner was gentle and her speech careful. Li Jiao’er, who had been a singing girl at the bawdy house, was inclined to be corpulent and not so attractive. Though she had been a famous strumpet, her skill in the arts of love was not to be compared with that of Jinlian. Yulou was about thirty years old. Her face was like the pear blossom, and her waist as slender as the willow. She was tall, and her oval face was marked by a few slight scars. But she was very beautiful, and it would have been difficult to say whether the tiny feet that peeped from beneath her skirt were larger or smaller than those of Jinlian herself. Xue’e had been a maid; she was not very tall and her manner was sharp. But there was no kind of soup she could not make and her skill with dishes and plates was almost miraculous.

  In a very short time Jinlian had made herself acquainted with the characteristic features of her companions.

  When the first three days were over, she rose early every morning and, as soon as she was dressed, went to Yueniang’s room to sew and make shoes. She pretended to be very eager to do anything she could, moving things that did not need to be moved, calling Yueniang Great Lady, as all the maids did, and giving her little presents. This delighted Yueniang. She called Jinlian Sister, and gave her some clothes and ornaments of her own that she valued highly. They always took their meals together.