The Golden Lotus, Volume 1

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  “The boat sails tomorrow morning,” Cai said.

  “Stay the night here,” Ximen said, “and tomorrow I will take you to your boat.”

  “You are very kind indeed,” Censor Cai said. He dismissed all his servants but two, bidding the others come for him the following morning.

  When Ximen saw that they had gone, he whispered to Daian and told him to go to the bawdy house for Dong Jiao’er and Han Yuchuan. “Bring them in by the back door,” he said, “and don’t let anyone see you.” The boy went away. Ximen returned to the table and drank wine with the Censor. The actors sang for them.

  “How long did you stay at home?” Ximen asked, “and how is your lady mother?”

  “My old mother is very well. I stayed about six months; then I went back to the Court. Unfortunately an accusation was brought against me by Cao He. I and thirteen others were brought before the Academy of History, and we were all reduced to provincial rank. That is how I came to be appointed Salt Commissioner. Song is a favorite of the Imperial Tutor.”

  “Where is venerable Master An now?” Ximen Qing said.

  “An Fengshan has been appointed to the Board of Works,” Cai said. “He has gone to Qingzhou as Superintendent of the Imperial Forests. That is quite a good post for him.”

  Ximen Qing called for the actors. When they had served wine, he asked them to sing “The Fisherman’s Pride.” While they were singing, Daian came and asked Ximen to go out and speak to him. “Dong Jiao’er and Han Yuchuan are here,” he said. “They are in the Great Lady’s room.”

  “Tell the sedan chair men to take the chairs away,” said Ximen. Daian told him that he had already done this. Then Ximen went to his wife’s room. The two singing girls kowtowed to him.

  “Today,” Ximen said to them, “I want you to wait upon his Excellency Cai. He is both Censor and Commissioner of Salt. If you are careful what you are about, he will certainly make you a handsome present.”

  Yuchuan laughed. “You need not be so explicit. We understand.”

  “He is a Southerner,” Ximen Qing said, “and likes things done in the Southern style. You must not be too shy with your hands and feet.”

  “Mother,” Dong Jiao’er said to Wu Yueniang, “do you hear that? Father is like one of those ram’s-horn onions that is planted against a southern wall and grows hotter and hotter. We are to kowtow before a royal palace, but we mustn’t drink the water in the well.”

  Ximen Qing laughed and went back to the outer court. When he came to the second door, he met Laibao and Chen Jingji with a visiting card. They gave the card to him and said: “Your relative, Master Qiao, says that if his Excellency the Censor is not engaged now will you please speak about this matter to him. He supposes that his Excellency will be going away tomorrow, and asked us to write this card.” Ximen Qing told Laibao to go with him. The man waited outside the window of the arbor.

  Ximen drank with Cai. After a while he said: “There is a little business I should like to mention, but I hesitate to trouble you.”

  “Tell me anything that is in your mind,” said Cai. “Your commands shall be obeyed, whatever they may be.”

  “Last year,” Ximen said, “one of my relatives paid the rice tribute and was given some salt certificates. He was appointed Collector at Yangzhou, within your jurisdiction. It would be very kind of you, when you take up your appointment, if you would let them have their salt a little earlier.” He handed to Censor Cai the paper that Laibao had brought. It said: ‘Laibao and Cui Ben are entitled to 30,000 yin of salt. May it be granted them as early as possible.’ Censor Cai smiled.

  “This is a trifle,” he said, “I should like to see Laibao.” Ximen Qing summoned Laibao to kowtow to the Censor. “When I get to Yangzhou,” Cai said, “come to my office, and I will see that the matter is settled one month earlier for you than for anyone else.”

  “It is very kind of you,” Ximen said, “but ten days would be quite sufficient.”

  Cai put the paper in his sleeve. Shutong served wine and the actors sang again. When the song was over, it was getting late. “I have burdened you for a whole day,” Cai said, “and I must not drink any more.” He stood up. The servants were about to light the lamps, but Ximen Qing stopped them.

  “I am going to take his Excellency to the inner court to change his clothes,” he said. He took Cai to the garden. They looked around it for a while, then Ximen took his guest to the Hall of the Kingfisher. The lattice was rolled down, candles were burning brightly, and wine and refreshments had been set out.

  Ximen Qing dismissed the actors. Shutong saw that everything was cleared away in the arbor, and the corner gate was closed. The two singing girls, beautifully dressed, came to the steps and kowtowed four times to the Censor.

  Their faces so charming, their dresses gold embroidered

  They do not trouble the fragrant dust

  As they come down the stairs.

  With water splashes still wet upon their silken skirts

  As though they were just back from Wu Mountain

  Where they had brought the rain.

  Cai seemed dumbfounded when he saw them. “You are too kind to me,” he said. “This is indeed too much.”

  Ximen Qing smiled. “It is not very different,” he said, “from that entertainment that once there was upon the Eastern Mountains.”

  “I fear I have not the learning of Wang Anshi,” Cai said, “though you, Sir, have the elevated sensibilities of Wang Yuzhun.” In the moonlight he took the hands of the two singing girls, feeling as excited as Liu Yuan at the Tiantai. They went into the Hall of the Kingfisher. Writing materials were lying there and, taking paper and brush, Cai prepared to write a poem to give to the girls. Ximen Qing told Shutong to take the ink slab, grind some thick ink, and arrange the flower-patterned paper. His Excellency was possessed of the accomplishments becoming his position. Taking the brush, he wrote without any hesitation, the characters springing like dragons beneath it. Under the lamplight he finished the poem without once stopping.

  Six months have passed since last I visited you

  But brush and paper wait for me in this room.

  The rain is over. Shutong is tending the sweet-smelling herbs

  The wind has changed. An angel walks among the flower beds.

  When I would drink my fill, the bells ring urgently

  When I have written my poem, the night watch will call me away

  But when I go from you, I must expect new sorrow

  I know not when I shall return.

  When Cai had finished this poem, he bade Shutong put it on the wall in memory of his visit. Then he asked the names of the two girls. One said: “My name is Dong Jiao’er,” and the other: “My name is Han Yuchuan.” Then Cai asked them by what familiar names they were called. “We are but humble girls,” Dong Jiao’er said, “it would not befit us to have familiar names.” But the Censor pressed them, and at last Han Yuchuan said: “Mine is Yuqing [Treasure of Jade].” Dong Jiao’er said: “Mine is Weixian [Fairy of the Purple Flower].” The last one delighted Cai particularly, and he did not forget it. He asked Shutong to bring the chess pieces and played a game with Dong Jiao’er. Ximen Qing looked on while Yuchuan served the wine and Shutong sang. The Censor won, and Dong Jiao’er had to drink a cup of wine, but first she offered one to the victor. At the same time Han Yuchuan offered a cup to Ximen Qing. They played a second game. This time Dong Jiao’er won, and she quickly offered wine to the Censor. Ximen drank again.

  Then Cai said: “It is late and I can drink no more.” They went out and stood for a while amid the flowers. It was the middle of the fourth month, and the moon had just risen.

  “It is still early,” Ximen Qing said, “and Han Yuchuan has not offered wine to you yet.”

  “That is true,” the Censor said. “Let her bring a cup here, and I will drink it among the flowers.”

  Han Yuchuan brought a large gold cup shaped like a peach blossom and offered it with her slender fingers. Dong Jiao’er stoo
d beside her with a dish of fruit. The Censor drank his wine and offered a cup to Dong Jiao’er. Then he said to Ximen Qing: “I have indeed taken too much wine. Will you not ask your servants to clear away?” He took Ximen Qing’s hand. “You show me so much kindness,” he said, “that my mind is confused. If you had not been by nature a scholar, you could not have been so kind. I have not forgotten the loan you made me a few months ago. I told the Comptroller all about it, and, if it should happen that promotion comes to me, I shall never dare to forget your generosity.”

  “Please do not mention it,” Ximen Qing said. “Think no more of it.”

  Han Yuchuan saw the Censor holding Dong Jiao’er ‘s hand. She knew what this meant and went to the inner court. When she came to the Upper Room, Yueniang said to her: “Why did you not stay?” Han Yuchuan smiled.

  “He has Dong Jiao’er,” she said. “I was not wanted any longer.” A little later, Ximen Qing said good night to the Salt Commissioner and came in. He told Laixing to prepare food, wine, cakes and dishes, and, the next morning before dawn, to go with the cooks to the Temple of Eternal Felicity, where they would take leave of his Excellency. He must not forget the two young actors.

  “But tomorrow is the Second Lady’s birthday,” Laixing said, “and there are not enough people to attend to things at home.”

  “Let Qitong buy the things,” Ximen said. “The cooks must use the large oven.”

  Shutong and Daian cleared everything away and took a pot of excellent tea to Cai in the garden. In the Hall of the Kingfisher, the bed and furniture were arranged to perfection. Cai saw that Dong Jiao’er was carrying a speckled bamboo fan of gilded paper. On it was painted in black ink a picture of orchids growing beside a rivulet. She asked him to write a poem upon it for her. “I can’t think what to write,” he said. “I had better take your other name, Fairy of the Purple Flower.” Taking up a brush, he wrote four columns upon the fan.

  All is still and silent in the courtyard

  The moonbeams cast their light upon the windows.

  They meet, so chance has ordered, and the night is early

  He of the purple shrub and the maid of purple blossom.

  Dong Jiao’er made a reverence to the Censor and thanked him. They went to bed. Shutong, Daian and his Excellency’s servants slept in a room near by.

  The next morning the Censor gave Dong Jiao’er a tael of silver wrapped in red paper. She took it to the inner court and showed it to Ximen Qing. Ximen smiled. “He is a civil officer, and, of course, could not make you a very large present. This is as high a mark as you can expect.” He told Yueniang to give each of the girls five qian of silver and let them out by the back way. Shutong brought water and aided his master to dress. Then Ximen Qing went to the great hall and ate rice gruel with Censor Cai.

  Cai’s servants came with horses and a sedan chair. He said good-bye to Ximen Qing and thanked him repeatedly.

  “Please do not forget the matter of which I spoke to you yesterday,” Ximen said. “I will write to you when you reach your post. And I am greatly obliged to you.”

  “There is no need to write,” Cai said. “Send a servant with a blank sheet of paper and I will do anything you ask.”

  They mounted their horses and, followed by their attendants, went as far as the Temple of Eternal Felicity. There they lunched in the Abbot’s parlor. Laixing and the cooks had made all kinds of preparations and the two young actors, Li Ming and Wu Hui, were waiting. They drank a few cups of wine together and Cai stood up. The horses and sedan chair were waiting outside the gate. Ximen Qing spoke to him about the Miao Qing affair. “Miao Qing,” he said, “is a friend of mine who was falsely accused by the late censor. The papers for his arrest have been sent to Yangzhou. The case has already been settled here, so, if you should see his Excellency Song in Yangzhou, please speak in his favor. I shall be very grateful to you.”

  “Do not worry,” Cai said. “When I see my brother Song, I will ask him to free Miao Qing if he should be arrested.” Ximen Qing bowed and thanked him.

  Justice and friendship lie in opposing camps

  Friendship and justice cannot be reconciled.

  He who deals justly, loses all his friends

  He who to friendship yields, abandons justice.

  (Some time later, when Censor Song was going to Jinan, he happened to be traveling on the same boat with Cai. The officers arrested Miao Qing, but Cai said to his friend: “This is an affair that goes back to Censor Ceng’s administration. Why should you do anything about it?” So Miao Qing was set at liberty and orders were sent to Dongpingfu that the two boatmen were to be executed at once, and the boy Antong allowed to go.)

  Ximen Qing would have gone all the way to the boat with Cai, but the Censor asked him not to do so. “Pray do not come any farther,” he said. “We will part here.”

  “Take great care of yourself,” Ximen Qing said. “I shall send my servant for news of you.”

  Cai got into his sedan chair and was carried away. Ximen Qing went back to the Abbot’s rooms and the Abbot came to make reverence to him and offer tea. Ximen returned the greeting. He saw that the Abbot’s eyebrows were white as snow. “Venerable Sir,” he said, “how old are you?”

  “The humble monk before you,” replied the Abbot, “is seventy-four years of age.”

  “You seem very strong,” Ximen said, and asked his name in religion. “My name is Daojian,” the Abbot said. Ximen asked how many novices the Abbot had.

  “No more than two now,” the Abbot said, “but there are more than thirty wandering priests in my temple.”

  “Your temple,” Ximen Qing said, “is very large and spacious, but it seems to need repair.”

  “The truth is,” the Abbot said, “that this temple was built by the venerable Zhou Xiu, but we have no fixed endowment, and it is almost utterly ruined now.”

  “So your temple belongs to Major Zhou? I remember now that his estate is quite close. You ought to ask him to open a subscription. I should be glad to help.”

  Daojian made a reverence and thanked him. Ximen Qing told Daian to give the Abbot a tael of silver. “I have given you much trouble today,” he said. The Abbot apologized for the inadequacy of his preparations. Then Ximen told the priest that he would like to go to the inner court to change his clothes. Daojian told one of his novices to open the door. Behind the Abbot’s quarters, Ximen found a large hall, as large as five rooms. A number of wandering monks were chanting from their sacred books and beating their wooden fish. Ximen looked around the hall. There was one monk of very curious appearance. His head was like a leopard’s and his eyes were round. His color was that of purple liver, and upon his head he wore a cock’s crest. His tattered robe was flesh-colored; his shaggy beard all matted together. By all seeming he might have been a veritable Arhat, a fiery-tempered dragon. He was lying upon the bench of contemplation, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched upon his chest. The stream of matter from his nostrils looked like chopsticks of jade.

  Ximen Qing thought that this must certainly be a wonder-working monk, so unusual was his appearance. “I will arouse him,” he said to himself, “and question him.” Then, in a loud voice, he said to the holy man: “Where do you come from? Where is your monastery?” There was no answer. He repeated his questions, but still there was no reply. He asked a third time, and now the monk came down from the bench of contemplation, stretched himself, put forth a hand and straightened his body, and opened one eye. He made a slight inclination of the head to Ximen Qing and said in a hoarse voice:

  “Why do you ask me these questions? I am only a poor monk. My name is everywhere the same. I come from a foreign land, from the deep pine forests of India, from the temple of the Frozen Mansions. I roam about the world, dispensing remedies to give ease to men. What would you say to me?”

  “Since you have remedies to give ease to men,” Ximen Qing said, “I should be glad to have something that would inspire me with new ardor. Have you any such medicine?”

&
nbsp; “I have,” the Indian Monk said.

  “I should like to ask you to come to my house,” Ximen Qing said. “Will you come?”

  “I will come. I will come.”

  “If you are willing,” Ximen Qing said, “let us start at once.”

  The Indian Monk rose, took his iron staff and a long leathern bag in which were two gourds of medicine, and they went out of the great hall. Ximen told Daian to bring two donkeys and bade him ride together with the monk.

  “Not so,” said the monk. “You go first on your horse. I need no animal on which to ride, but I shall be there before you.”

  “This must indeed be a wonder-working monk,” Ximen said to himself, “or he would not make such rash promises.” He was afraid the monk might go somewhere else, and told Daian to accompany him. He took leave of the Abbot and mounted his horse, and all his servants followed him. It was the seventeenth day of the fourth month, Wang Liu’er’s birthday. It was also the birthday of Li Jiao’er, and a few ladies had come to congratulate her.

  In the afternoon Wang Liu’er sent her brother Wang Jing to ask Ximen Qing to go and see her. She had no one else to send. “Go and look out for Daian,” she told him, “and, if you do not see him, wait outside the gate.”

  Wang Jing waited at the gate. When he had waited two hours or so, Wu Yueniang and Li Jiao’er came out with old woman Li. Yueniang, seeing a small boy about fifteen years old, asked him what he wanted.

  “I have come from the Han household to see my brother An,” he said.

  “Which brother An?” Yueniang asked.

  Ping’an was standing near, and, fearing lest Yueniang should discover that the boy came from Wang Liu’er, he went forward and pushed him aside.

  “He has come from Han Daoguo,” he said. “He wants to see Daian to find out when Han is to come.”

  Yueniang was deceived. She said no more and went back into the house. Then Daian and the Indian Monk came to the gate. Daian’s legs were very weary and his whole body was covered with sweat. He was in a very bad way, but the Indian Monk was perfectly comfortable and did not even puff. Ping’an told Daian about the visit from Wang Jing. “The Great Lady saw him, but, fortunately, I was here, and passed the matter over. Otherwise the cat would have been out of the bag. If Mother asks you any questions tell her the same story that I did.”