The Golden Lotus, Volume 1

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  Li Jiao’er and the others became very jealous of the attentions that Yueniang paid Jinlian, and in secret had much to say about it. “We are wives of old standing,” they said, “but the Great Lady cares not a whit about us. This woman has been here only a few days, and she is shown all these favors. Our eldest sister is not discreet.”

  Ximen Qing was now married to Jinlian, living in a splendid house and wearing the finest of clothes. So close was the attachment between this fascinating woman and her dissolute bridegroom that nothing could have separated them. Everything was as merry as could be, and Ximen Qing took advantage of the situation without ceasing.

  It was the beginning of the eighth month when Wu Song reached Qinghe. First, he went to the Town Hall to give the magistrate the letters he had brought from the Eastern Capital. The magistrate was glad to know that his presents had been duly delivered. He gave Wu Song ten taels of silver and entertained him. After this, Wu Song went back to his own place, changed his clothes, put on a new hat, locked the door, and went straight to Amethyst Street. The neighbors saw that he was back and were tremendously excited, breaking into a perfect sweat. “Now the trouble will begin,” they said. “This prince of the haughty spirit will not let this matter pass lightly.”

  Wu Song went to his brother’s door and pulled up the shutter. Ying’er was sitting outside the room, making thread. He called, “Brother,” but there was no reply. Then he cried, “Sister,” but still there was no answer. He thought, “I must be getting deaf if I can’t hear one or other of them.” He spoke to Ying’er, but she was so terrified she could not utter a word.

  “Where are your father and mother?” Wu Song said. Ying’er burst into tears.

  Meanwhile old woman Wang had heard that he was back, and she was afraid that all would be discovered. She hurried over. When Wu Song saw her coming, he saluted.

  “Where is my brother, and how is it my sister-in-law is not here?”

  “Sit down, please,” the old woman said, “and I will tell you. Some time during the fourth month, shortly after you had gone away, your brother was taken very ill, and died.”

  “When did he die? What did he die of? Who attended him?” Wu Song cried.

  “About the twentieth of the fourth month your brother suddenly began to suffer from pains at the heart. After a week or so we went to make supplication to Heaven. We called in soothsayers, and got every medicine we could think of, but it was all no use. He died.”

  “My brother never suffered from anything of the sort before,” Wu Song said. “It is a very curious thing that he should die of heart trouble so unexpectedly.”

  “Captain,” the old woman said, “you should not say things like that. Heaven sends its storms upon us without warning, and, though we may take off our shoes and socks tonight, who can tell whether tomorrow morning we shall put them on again? Nobody can be certain that some sudden calamity will not befall him.”

  “When was my brother buried?” Wu Song asked.

  “When your brother gave up the ghost,” the old woman said, “he had not a halfpenny in the world. His wife was no better off than a crab without feet. She could never have bought a grave for him. Fortunately, one of our more wealthy neighbors, who happened to be a friend of your brother, provided a coffin, and, when Master Wu had been dead three days, we had the funeral ceremonies and cremated him.”

  “Where is my sister-in-law now?” Wu Song asked.

  “She was a young and tender woman, with nothing to live on, so she wore her mourning for a hundred days, and then her mother persuaded her to marry some stranger who lives a long way from here. She left this troublesome little girl in my care, and said I was to give her to you when you came back. When I have done that, I shall have done all I was called upon to do.”

  Wu Song listened to this story, and pondered it for a while. Then he left old woman Wang. He went to his own rooms near the Town Hall and changed into white clothes. Then he told his servant to buy a hempen cord, a pair of cotton socks, and a mourning hat. He bought fruits, cakes, candles, and paper money. Returning to Wu Da’s house, he prepared a new tablet, made ready soup and food, lighted the candles, set out the wine and food, and hung up all the paper offerings. By the time he had done this, it was already the first night watch.

  Then Wu Song burned incense, and knelt down and said: “Brother, may your spirit draw near. When you were on earth, you were weak and feeble. Now you are dead, and I do not know the cause of your death. If you met your death at the hands of others, and your brooding spirit can find none to avenge it, send me a dream, and I will avenge you.” He poured wine upon the ground, and burned all the paper money. Then he sobbed aloud. The neighbors heard him and were sorry for him, for they knew that Wu Song was brother to Wu Da.

  When all was done, he gave the wine, food, and dishes to the soldiers. Then he brought two pallets, and told the soldiers to sleep in the outer room. Ying’er was asleep in the inner room, and he himself took a pallet and lay down before Wu Da’s tablet. It was now midnight. He tossed over and over, unable to sleep. He could only sigh. The soldiers were sleeping as soundly as the dead. He rose, and it seemed that the lamp on the table was flickering, half light, half dark. He sat up on his pallet and said to himself, “My brother was very weak, and there is something very mysterious about his death....” He had not finished this sentence when, over the table that supported his brother’s tablet, there came an ice-cold wind.

  Formless and shadowless, neither mist nor smoke

  Round and round it moved,

  Like a spirit wind striking cold to the marrow,

  Gloomy and dark,

  Like the icy mist over a war-stricken land

  Chilling the flesh.

  The lamp before the tablet lost its brightness

  Sad and uncanny.

  The paper money hanging on the wall

  Whirled round and round.

  It seemed as if, within this mist, the souls of all the poisoned marched,

  Their ghostly standards fluttering in the wind.

  The cold wind made Wu Song’s hair stand on end. He stared at the tablet and it seemed to him that there slowly emerged the form of a man who cried, “Oh, younger brother, I died in agony.” Wu Song could not distinguish the figure very clearly and would have gone forward to question it, but, as he waited, the cold mist faded away and the figure vanished.

  Wu Song sank down upon the pallet. “This is truly a strange thing,” he thought, “a dream yet not a dream. My brother seemed to wish to tell me something, but the vigor of my body was too much for his frail spirit. Nevertheless, I am sure there is a mystery about his death.” Then he heard the watchman striking the third watch. He went to look at the soldiers, but found them fast asleep. His soul was troubled. He watched till daybreak, when the cocks began to crow and the dawn broke in the eastern sky. Then the soldiers got up and heated some water for him, and he washed his face and cleansed his mouth. Calling Ying’er, he told her to look after the house, and went off with the soldiers.

  As he passed down the street, he asked all the neighbors to tell him how his brother had died, and whom his sister-in-law had married. They knew all there was to be known, of course, but they were afraid of Ximen Qing and did not wish to get mixed up in the matter. “Captain,” they said, “it is no use asking us. Old woman Wang is the nearest neighbor, go and ask her. Then you will learn the truth.” One of the more talkative added: “Yun’ge, the pear seller, and He the Ninth know all about it, too.”

  Wu Song went down the street to find Yun’ge. At last he found that young monkey carrying a basket, coming back from buying some rice. He hailed him. When the boy saw that it was Wu Song who called him, he said, “Captain Wu, you have come back too late. You will not find it easy to get to the bottom of the matter and, if you take it to the courts, there will be no one to look after my poor old father.”

  “Come with me,” Wu Song said. He took the boy to an eating house, and ordered two bowls of rice. “Brother,” he
said, “you are not very old, but I see that you pay proper respect to your father. That is as it should be.” He took five taels of silver from his sleeve. “Take this for the present,” he said, “and when I have attended to this matter, I will give you another ten taels to set you up in business. Now, I want you to tell me who it was who quarreled with my brother, who is responsible for his death, and who has married my sister-in-law. Tell me the whole story and don’t hide anything.”

  Yun’ge took the silver. He decided that it would be enough to supply his father’s needs for three or four months, and that he need no longer be anxious about going to the law courts. “Brother,” he said, “listen, but do not be impatient.” Then he told the whole story from beginning to end. Wu Song listened attentively. “Is this absolutely true?” he said. “Who took my sister-in-law away?”

  “Ximen Qing took your sister to his place,” the boy said. “She has given herself to him absolutely. Why do you ask whether I am telling the truth?”

  “It is essential that you shall not tell any lies,” Wu Song said.

  “What I have told you is what I shall say at the law courts,” the boy replied. Wu Song called for food and, when they had finished it, he paid the reckoning and they left the shop.

  “Go home and give the silver to your father,” Wu Song said, “and tomorrow morning come to the Town Hall to give your evidence. Tell me, where does He the Ninth live?”

  “You won’t find him,” the boy said, “he disappeared three days ago, as soon as he heard you had come back.”

  Wu Song left Yun’ge and went to his own place. The next morning, he asked Master Chen to write an accusation for him, and went to the Town Hall. Yun’ge was already waiting for him. He went into the Hall of Audience, knelt down, and presented his accusation. The magistrate recognized Wu Song at once and asked what was the accusation he wished to make.

  “My brother Wu Da has been murdered by that villain Ximen Qing, who was carrying on an intrigue with my sister-in-law. First, my brother was kicked in the chest; then old woman Wang devised a plan for murdering him. After his death the undertaker He the Ninth allowed his body to be cremated without properly examining it, and now Ximen Qing has carried off my sister-in-law to be one of his concubines. This boy, Yun’ge, is here to give evidence as to the facts, and I pray your Lordship to see that justice is done.”

  “Why is the undertaker He the Ninth not here?” the magistrate said.

  “When he knew that the secret was out he ran away,” Wu Song said. “Nobody knows where he is.”

  The magistrate examined Yun’ge and wrote down his evidence. Then he withdrew and called together his officials. The magistrate himself, his deputy, and all the other officers were very intimate with Ximen Qing, and the case was one they did not care to decide. The magistrate came back to Wu Song and said, “You are a captain in my district, and I am surprised to find that you don’t seem to know the law. In cases of alleged adultery, it has always been customary to require that the guilty pair should be caught in the act; and, in cases of murder, to insist upon direct evidence. Your brother’s body has been burned, and you did not, in fact, lay hold of the adulterers. It would not be right for me to give judgment in the case simply upon the evidence of this little fellow. Think over the matter for yourself, calmly.”

  “Sir,” Wu Song replied, “what I have told you is the simple truth, not some fantastic tale of my own imagining. I beg you to order the arrest of Ximen Qing, the woman Pan, and old woman Wang. Let the law take its ordinary course with them, and the truth will come out. If I lie, I am ready to suffer the consequences.”

  “Well,” the magistrate said, “I must think this over. If I decide that they ought to be arrested, I will arrest them.” Wu Song rose and went out, leaving Yun’ge in the court.

  By this time Ximen Qing had heard what was going on. He was greatly alarmed, and at once gave large sums of money to his trusted servants, Laibao and Laiwang, and sent them to bribe the officials. The next morning, when Wu Song went to the court in the hope of persuading the magistrate to have the criminals arrested, he found that all the officials had accepted Ximen’s bribes and refused to have anything to do with his accusation.

  “Wu Song,” one said, “don’t believe busybodies who simply wish to make trouble between you and Ximen Qing. There is really no evidence in this case, and it would be impossible to give a fair judgment upon it. A wise man says: ‘Things I see with my own eyes, I can hardly credit; how shall I believe what others tell me?’ You must not be so impetuous.”

  “You work in this office,” another said, “and of course you understand the law. You know all that is to be known about murders and murderers. Now, before the case can be opened, five things are essential: the corpse, the wounds, the disease, the instruments by which the crime was committed, and the traces of the crime itself. Your brother’s body has already disappeared. How can we decide this case?”

  “If that is how you look at it,” Wu Song cried, “my brother’s murder will never be avenged. It is clear that the magistrate does not intend to deal with the matter, and I must do things my own way.” He took away his accusation and went back to his place, sending Yun’ge home. Then he gazed towards the heavens and sighed deeply, gnashed his teeth, and cursed his sister-in-law’s wantonness. Wu Song at that moment was ferocity itself! His anger was beyond control. He set off at once for Ximen Qing’s shop, with his mind made up to engage Ximen in single combat. But only Fu the manager was there.

  “Is your master at home?” Wu Song said.

  Fu recognized Wu Song. “No,” he said, “he is not at home. Is there anything I can tell him for you, Captain?”

  “I must trouble you to come here,” was the only reply. Fu did not dare refuse, and went with Wu Song to a secluded place. Suddenly, Wu Song turned and caught him by the throat, glaring wildly at him.

  “Do you wish to live or to die?”

  “Captain,” Fu cried, “I have never done you any harm. Why are you so angry?”

  “If you wish to die, say nothing. If you wish to live, tell me the truth. Now, where is that fellow Ximen? When did he marry my sister-in-law? Tell me everything, and I will let you go.”

  Fu was a poor-spirited creature, and Wu Song’s rage made him panic-stricken. “Pleas don’t be so angry, Captain,” he stammered; “I work in his shop and he pays me two taels a month. My business is to look after the shop, nothing else, and I have no notion how he spends his time. Truly, my master is not at home now. He and his friends have gone to a wineshop in Lion Street. I would not dare to tell you a lie.”

  Wu Song released Fu, and rushed off to Lion Street as though possessed of wings. Fu was so terrified that he could not move for a long time. While Wu Song was striding towards the wineshop, Ximen Qing was drinking there with a man called Li the Merchant of Secrets. This man was one of the court runners and had a finger in the pie in all the matters that came up at the District Office. He used to find out everything that was to be found out and use the knowledge to his own advantage. If any dispute arose, he would suggest courses of action to both parties, and, if they thought of bribing the magistrate, he smoothed over any little difficulties. So he came to be called Merchant of Secrets. Today, after the magistrate had rejected Wu Song’s accusation, he was reporting the matter to Ximen Qing. Ximen invited him to take wine and made him a present of five taels of silver.

  They were contentedly drinking their wine when Ximen Qing happened to glance around to see what was going on in the street, and saw Wu Song, like an angry god, coming over the bridge towards the inn. He knew that Wu Song could have no peaceful intent, and was frightened out of his wits. He would have escaped, but could not get down the stairs in time, so he pretended he wished to change his clothes and hid himself somewhere at the back of the inn.

  Wu Song came to the door and asked the waiter where Ximen was. “Master Ximen is taking wine with one of his friends upstairs.” Wu Song pulled up his skirts and dashed upstairs. Ximen Qing had vani
shed. There was only a man sitting before a table, and a couple of singing girls on either side. Wu Song recognized the runner Li and knew that he must have been telling Ximen Qing what had happened. In a fury, he went forward and shook his fist at Li.

  “You villain,” he cried, “what have you done with Ximen Qing? Tell me at once or I’ll give you a drubbing.”

  The very sight of Wu Song had terrified the runner, and, when he was spoken to so roughly, he could not get out a word in reply. Wu Song, finding that he received no answer, grew angrier and angrier, and kicked down the table. The cups and dishes were smashed. The two singing girls were so frightened that they swooned away. The runner realized that Wu Song meant him no good, and, though he did not find it easy, managed to pull himself to his feet and tried to shuffle downstairs. Wu Song pulled him back.

  “I have asked you a question and you don’t answer. Where do you think you’re going? Be so kind as to eat one of my fists. I’ll see whether you’ll answer me or not.” He struck Li a terrific blow in the face.

  “Oh dear!” the man cried, finding his tongue at last, and agonized by the pain. “Ximen Qing has gone to the back to change his clothes. Please let me go, it has nothing to do with me.”

  Wu Song with both hands lifted the runner and hurled him out of the window. “If you wish to get out, there you are,” he cried, and flung the merchant of secrets into the street.

  Wu Song went to the back of the house to find Ximen Qing. Ximen had heard the disturbance and was in a terrible state of fright. Without giving a thought to the danger, he jumped out of the window, ran along the balcony, and found his way to somebody’s courtyard. Wu Song could not find him and, thinking that Li had lied to him, he ran downstairs to where the run ner was stretched out on the ground, half dead, though his eyes still moved. Wu Song kicked him twice in the guts, and he died.

  “This is runner Li,” the bystanders said. “What has he done to annoy you, Captain, that you should kill him like this?”