“You went off in a huff, young woman,” Jinlian said. “What has made you decide to bring the things?”
“We have looked everywhere for you,” Chunmei said. “How were we to know that you’d take it into your head to come here?”
Qiuju set out the refreshments and Ximen Qing opened the basket. There were eight rows of exquisite fruits and sweetmeats in it, a little silver jar of grape wine, two small Jinlian cups and two pairs of chopsticks. These they set upon a rustic table. Ximen and Jinlian sat down before it but went on with their game. They played Feathers through the Arch, The Geese Flying on their Backs, The Qiao Sisters Studying Their Books, and Yang Guifei Asleep in the Spring. Then they played The Dragon Entering His Cave and Pearls upon the Blind. Altogether, they had more than ten games. Then the wine went to Jinlian’s head. The peaches began to bloom upon her cheeks, and her eyes lost their shyness. Ximen Qing thought he would like to drink the love potion known as the wine of the five fragrances, and told Chunmei to go and fetch it.
“Little oily mouth,” Jinlian said, “you can do something for me too. In my room you will find a summer mat and a pillow. Bring them here. I feel very sleepy, and I think I shall lie down.”
Chunmei professed to raise objections. “Oh dear,” she said, “you give so many orders that nobody could possibly carry them all out.”
“If you won’t go,” Ximen said, “send Qiuju. You bring the wine and we’ll leave it at that.” Chunmei went off, tossing her head. After a while Qiuju came back with the mat, the pillow and some coverlets. Jinlian ordered her to set them out. “Then fasten the garden gate and go to your room, and don’t come back until I call you.” Qiuju did as she was told, and went away.
Ximen Qing rose, and took off his jade-colored light gown. He hung it on the trellis, and went to wash his hands by the peony arbor. When he came back, Jinlian had already prepared the mat and its cushions inside the arbor of the vines, and had undressed till not a thread of silk remained upon her body. She lay flat on her back, a pair of crimson shoes still upon her feet, fanning herself with a white silk fan to gain some relief from the heat.
When Ximen Qing saw her, his wanton heart was quickly stirred, for the wine had not been without its effect upon him. He took off his clothes, and sat down on a stool, letting his toes play around the treasure of this beautiful flower.
Then proof of her pleasure oozed from her like the slime of a snail leaving its tortuous white trail. Ximen pulled off her decorated crimson shoes, loosened the ribbons that bound her feet and tied her ankles to the trellis, so that she looked like a golden dragon baring its claws. The gate of womanhood was open, its guardian was aroused, and a deep scarlet vale appeared.
Ximen Qing lay down and, taking his weapon in his hands, prepared to storm the breach, resting one hand upon the pillow, and proceeding to the attack as he had played Feathers through the Arch when at the Flying Arrow game. He strove with all his strength, till from the scene of combat a mist arose, spiraling, like an eel rising from the mud.
Jinlian beneath him never ceased to murmur, “Darling, my darling.” Then, as he was just about to reap the fruits of victory, Chunmei came suddenly with the wine for which Ximen had asked. But when she saw them, she put down the jar of wine and fled to the top of the artificial mound, and there went into the arbor that was called the Land of Clouds. She rested her elbows on the chess table, and amused herself setting out the chessmen. Ximen Qing lifted his head and looked at her; then he beckoned her to come down, but she refused. “If you don’t come down, I will make you,” he cried. He left Jinlian and ran up the stone steps to the arbor. Chunmei fled down a tiny path to the right, through the grottos, till she reached a point halfway, where among the hanging foliage and flowers she tried to hide. Ximen Qing caught her there, and took her in his arms. “I’ve got you at last, little oily mouth,” he cried. Then he carried her like a feather to the Arbor of the Vines.
“Have a cup of wine,” he said, laughing, setting her on his knee, and they drank together mouth to mouth. Suddenly Chunmei saw that her mistress’s feet were tied to the trellis.
“I don’t know how you could do such a thing,” she said. “It is the middle of the day, and if anybody should come in, what would they think of such goings on.”
“Isn’t the corner gate shut?” Ximen asked.
“Yes,” Chunmei said, “I shut it when I came in.”
“Now,” Ximen said, “watch me. I’m going to play Flying Arrows with a living target. The game is called Striking the Silver Swan with a Golden Ball. Watch! If I hit the mark at the first shot, I shall treat myself to a cup of wine.” He took a plum from the iced bowl, and cast it to the gate of womanhood. Three times he cast; three times he reached the inmost flower. One plum stuck there, but he neither removed it nor finished the work he had begun until the girl became faint and her distress from the effort was evident. Her starry eyes were half closed, and her body fell back limply upon the mat. “You are indeed a roguish enemy,” she murmured. “You will be the death of me.” Her voice trembled.
Ximen paid no attention to her, but told Chunmei to fan him, while he refreshed himself with wine. Then he lay down in an easy chair, and went to sleep. When Chunmei saw that he was asleep, she went softly over and touched him, then ran like a wisp of smoke to the Snow Grotto and so to the other side of the garden. There she heard someone knocking, opened the gate, and saw Li Ping’er.
Ximen Qing slept for an hour or so, and when he opened his eyes, Jinlian’s white legs were still hanging from the trellis. Chunmei had gone. Again his passion was aroused.
“Now, you abandoned little creature,” he cried, “I’ll attend to you.” He took out the plum, and gave it her to eat. Then, sitting on the pillow, he took from a pocket in his gown a case of love instruments. First he put on the clasp, and tied a sulfur ring about the root of evil. He refused to dismount her, but played so long about her entrance that she cried in fury. “My darling, my dearest, be a man quickly or I shall go mad. I see what it is. You are angry with me because of Li Ping’er. That is why you tease me like this. But now I have found how cunning you can be, I will never make you angry again.”
“Ah,” cried Ximen, laughing, “so you have learned your lesson. Well, speak nicely to me.”
With one thrust he seemed to reach her inmost parts. Then he withdrew; searching in his pocket he found some of the powder that is called Delight of the Bedroom and Fragrance of the Penis, and applied it to the frog’s mouth. He returned to the attack, and immediately a tall, proud warrior appeared, full of fire and fury; Ximen surveyed the struggle with admiration. She lay on the mat with half-closed eyes murmuring, “Oh my beloved darling! You don’t know what you’re putting into me. That thing has driven me to frenzy. Spare me, please.” She spoke without shame, but Ximen instantly drove forward with full strength, his hands on the mat, tearing and digging, plunging into her depths a hundred times before withdrawing again. She wiped her wounds with a handkerchief, but in vain; the mat bore clear traces of battle, and the warrior, still erect and fierce, would not desist. “The time has come,” cried Ximen, “the monk shall smite the timbrel.” Suddenly he lunged, and reached the inmost citadel; for within the gate of womanhood there lies a citadel, like the heart of a flower, which, if touched by the conqueror, is infused with a wonderful pleasure. She felt pain and withdrew; but the sulfur ring broke inside her body with a crack.
She closed her eyes and her breath came faintly; only a faint murmur issued from her lips, the tip of her tongue became icy cold, and her body fell back apparently lifeless upon the mat.
Ximen Qing was alarmed. He hastily untied the ribbons, and removed the sulfur ring. It was broken into two pieces. Then he helped the woman to sit up, and at last her starry eyes began to gleam again, and she showed signs of life once more. In a caressing voice she said, “Darling, why did you treat me so cruelly today? You nearly killed me. You mustn’t do this again. It is not simply fun. My head and eyes swim so that I hardly know
where I am.”
The sun was already setting. Ximen hastily helped her into her clothes, and then called Chunmei and Qiuju to come and take away the mat and the pillows. Then they supported her to her room. Chunmei came back to the garden to see that Qiuju removed all the empty cups. She was just shutting the garden gate, when suddenly Laizhao’s little son Little Iron Rod jumped out of the summerhouse, and asked her to give him some fruits.
“What have you been doing, you young rascal?” Chunmei cried. She gave him a few peaches and plums. “Your father has been drinking,” she told him, “and you had better run off, for he will certainly beat you if he sees you.”
The little monkey took the fruit and disappeared. Chunmei fastened the garden gate, returned to her mistress and Ximen Qing, and helped them to retire.
CHAPTER 28
The Two Shoes
After Ximen Qing had taken Pan Jinlian to her room, he took off all his clothes. She wore only a piece of fine silk upon her breast. They sat down side by side and began to drink again. Ximen caressed her white throat with his hand, and they drank their wine, one from the other’s mouth. They were profoundly happy in their love. Jinlian allowed her hair to fall about her; her delicate bosom was half disclosed, her eyes challenged him. She seemed like Yang Guifei inflamed by wine.
Her slender fingers played with the warrior between his thighs; it was exhausted after the battle. Still bound by the silver ring, it looked overworked but not quite spent. “Why don’t you leave it in peace?” said Ximen. “It’s your fault. You frightened it so much that it can hardly move.”
“It can hardly move?” she replied. “What are you saying?”
“If it could move,” said Ximen, “it would not be drooping like a fading flower, refusing to rise. Why don’t you ask its pardon on bended knees?”
She looked at it and smiled. Then she squatted down, put her head on his thigh, undid his trousers and grasped the weary warrior. “You are he who raised his head so proudly, whose eye was so fierce that it terrified me. Now you pretend you are tired, and lie as if you were dead.”
Meanwhile she played with it; she pressed it on her soft cheeks, caressed it with her hand, and then she brought it to her lips and kissed the frog’s mouth. Immediately the warrior, boiling with passion, sprang up, its head was a talon, its eye was fire, its jaw bristled with hair, its body was stiff as iron.
Ximen Qing rested on a pillow and told Jinlian to go down on all fours, within the silken curtains, and put forth all her strength, the more to increase his pleasure. Immediately his passion blazed forth again, and again he engaged with the woman. “Darling,” she pleaded with him, “you must spare me. Don’t play with me again.” That night their joy in each other was boundless.
The night passed. Next day Ximen Qing went out, and Jinlian got up about dinnertime. When she was ready to put on her shoes, she looked for the crimson pair she had been wearing the day before, but could not find them anywhere. She asked Chunmei where they were.
“When Father and I brought you back yesterday,” Chunmei said, “Qiuju brought the coverlets and things.”
Jinlian called Qiuju.
“I didn’t notice you wearing any shoes when you came in,” the maid said.
“Nonsense,” Jinlian cried, “I didn’t come in barefoot.”
“Well, Lady, if you were wearing any shoes, they must be in your room.”
“Don’t be such a fool,” Jinlian cried, “of course they must be here somewhere. Look for them.”
Qiuju searched the different rooms, on the bed and under the bed, but could not find the odd shoe anywhere.
“There must have been a ghost in my room for my shoe to have vanished like this,” Jinlian said. “Off my very feet too. What are you here for, you slave?”
“Probably you’ve forgotten, Mother, and left it somewhere in the garden,” the maid suggested. “You weren’t wearing it when you came in.”
“You must be out of your senses,” Jinlian cried. “Do you think I don’t know whether I had my shoes on or not?” She turned to Chunmei: “Take the thievish slave with you and go and look in the garden. If you find it, well and good, but if it isn’t found, she will have to kneel down in the courtyard with a piece of stone on her head.”
Chunmei took Qiuju to the garden, but though they looked everywhere, and searched the Arbor of the Vines, they could not find the shoe.
After searching a long time they began to go back. On the way Chunmei scolded Qiuju. “You are like a go-between on the wrong track,” she said. “What are you going to say now? You’re as bad as old Goody Wang buying a mill. What’s the good of it?”
“I’m sure I don’t know who stole Mother’s shoe,” Qiuju said. “She wasn’t wearing it when she came in. Perhaps you left the garden gate open and somebody got in and went off with it.”
Chunmei spat in her face. “You slave,” she cried, “you are frightened and you think you’ll put the blame on me. Mother told me to open the door for her. What else could I do? Nobody could possibly have got in then. You brought the coverlets and you didn’t take the trouble to look what you were doing. Now you make up a silly story like this.”
She took Qiuju to her mistress and said that they had not been able to find the shoe. “Take her into the courtyard and make her kneel down,” Jinlian cried.
The maid sobbed and cried. “Do let me go to the garden and look again,” she begged. “Then, if I don’t find it, punish me.
“Don’t listen to her,” Chunmei said, “she will never find it. We searched the garden so thoroughly that we could not have missed a needle.”
“Why do you put in your spoke?” Qiuju cried. “If I don’t find it, I’ll ask Mother to beat me.”
“Well,” Jinlian said, “take her back once more, and let us see whether she finds it.”
Chunmei took her to the garden. They looked beneath the artificial mound, around all the flowerbeds and under the evergreen hedges, but though they searched a long time, they found nothing. Qiuju began to get flustered. Chunmei boxed her ears twice, and began to drag her back to Jinlian.
“We haven’t looked in the Snow Cave yet,” Qiuju said.
“That is Father’s summerhouse,” Chunmei said. “Mother did not go there, and you will not find it there. You might just as well come with me and confess.” But she went to the Snow Cave. Facing the door was a couch, and beside it a small table for incense. They looked around but saw nothing. Then they went to the bookshelves.
“Father’s papers and visiting cards are on those shelves,” Chunmei said. “It’s no use looking there for Mother’s shoe. You’re just trying to put off the evil hour. If you upset those papers there will be more trouble, and you’ll come to an evil end, for sure.”
“Isn’t this the shoe?” Qiuju cried. She pulled out a packet perfumed with incense and fragrant herbs, and gave it to Chunmei. “This must be it,” she said, “and only a minute ago you were urging Mother to beat me.”
Chunmei looked at it. There was no doubt about it, it was a crimson low-heeled shoe. “Yes,” she said, “it is her shoe. How on earth did it get here? There’s something very funny about this.” They went back to Jinlian.
“Yes,” she said, “this is my shoe, sure enough. Where did you find it?”
“We found it on the bookshelves in Father’s summerhouse,” Chunmei said. “It was among his visiting cards, wrapped up with sweet herbs and incense.”
Jinlian took it in her hand and compared it with another of her shoes. They were both of crimson silk, embroidered with the flowers of the four seasons, the lower part white and also embroidered with flowers. The heels were green and the sides blue. The only difference between them was that the thread of the seam was green in one case and blue in the other, though, unless they were examined very carefully, it would have been impossible to tell them apart.
She tried on the shoe. It was a little tighter than her own. Then she realized that it must have belonged to Huilian. “This shoe belonged to Laiwang
’s wife,” she said to herself. “I wonder when she gave it to that scoundrel. He did not dare bring it to any of the rooms, so he hid it. Now the slave has fished it out.” She gazed at the shoe for a while. Then she said: “This is not my shoe. Go and kneel down at once, you slave.” She told Chunmei to find a piece of stone and put it on the girl’s head.
“But whose shoe is it, if it isn’t yours?” Qiuju said. She wept. “I’ve found your shoe, yet you are going to beat me just the same. I wonder what you would do if I hadn’t found it.”
“Shut your mouth, you thievish slave,” Jinlian shouted. Chunmei brought a large piece of stone and put it on the maid’s head.
Jinlian found another pair of shoes and put them on. The room was oppressively hot, and she told Chunmei to take the dressing case to the summerhouse. She went there to dress her hair.
The same morning, Chen Jingji had to come from the shop to get some clothes. When he reached the corner gate that led into the garden, Little Iron Rod was playing there. The boy saw that he was carrying a pair of silver necklets.
“What is that you’ve got, Uncle?” he said. “Let me have it to play with.”
“They are necklets somebody has pawned,” Chen Jingji said, “and I’m taking them back.”
“Give them to me, Uncle,” the boy cried, “I will give you something nice instead.”
“You silly boy,” the man said, “they don’t belong to me, but, if you like, I’ll see if I can find another pair for you. What’s this pretty thing you’re going to give me?”
The little monkey took a crimson embroidered shoe from his girdle and showed it to Jingji. “Where did you find this?” Jingji said.
“I’ll tell you, Uncle,” the boy said, laughing. “I was playing in the garden yesterday, and I saw Father in the Arbor of the Vines with Fifth Mother. He had tied her feet and they were shaking and jumping about. Then Father went away, and I saw Auntie Chunmei and asked her for some fruit. I picked this up in the Arbor of the Vines.”
The Golden Lotus, Volume 1 Page 46
