The Golden Lotus, Volume 1

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  “I have just been saying to our brother,” Bojue said, “that if we put newly vinted wine into two bottles, we shall see which is pure and which is not. Didn’t I tell you that anybody who went about with young Wang would certainly get into trouble? Now it has happened, and they have nothing to complain about.”

  “I can’t see how young Wang dared have anything to do with the girls,” Ximen Qing said. “He is not properly grown up yet. Conduct like his would be shameful even in a corpse.”

  “The boy hasn’t seen much of the world,” Bojue said. “He is not like you. If I mentioned your name to him, he would be frightened to death.”

  The boys brought tea. Ximen Qing said: “You two play backgammon, and I will tell a boy to buy us some noodles.” Qintong set the table, and Huatong brought four small dishes on a square tray, some garlic sauce, and a large bowl of stewed pork with a silver ladle in it. He set everything upon the table with three pairs of ivory chopsticks. The three men sat down and the boys brought three bowls of noodles. Each helped himself to the stew, the garlic sauce, and the vinegar. Ying Bojue and Xie Xida took up their chopsticks. In three helpings and two gulps each finished one bowl, and so on till they had had seven. They finished the seven before Ximen Qing had finished two.

  “My sons,” Ximen said, “how can you eat so much?”

  “Brother,” Ying Bojue said, “who has cooked these noodles? They are delicious.”

  “The stew is perfect,” Xie Xida said. “It is most unfortunate that I have just had my dinner. I should have liked to eat another bowl.”

  The two friends felt hot and took off their coats. Qintong came to clear the table, and they asked him for water to rinse their mouths. “Cold tea will do,” Xie Xida said, “but I won’t have hot. It would make my breath smell of garlic.” Huatong brought three cups of tea. Afterwards, they went to stroll among the flowers.

  Huang the Fourth sent four boxes of presents to Ximen Qing, and Ping’an brought them in. There was a box of freshwater chestnuts, another box of a different kind of chestnut, four fine shad in ice, and a box of loquat fruits.

  “What splendid delicacies!” Ying Bojue said. “I can’t think how he managed to get them. Let me try one.” He picked up several and handed two to Xie Xida. “There must be people who have never tasted such things in all their lives.”

  “You funny dog,” Ximen Qing said. “I have not offered them to Buddha, yet you start tasting them.”

  “Why offer them to Buddha?” Bojue said. “They suit my palate admirably.”

  Ximen Qing told a boy to go to the inner court and get three qian of silver for the man who had brought the presents. “Who brought them?” Bojue said. “Was it Li Zhi or Huang Ning?”

  “Huang Ning,” said Ping’an.

  “Lucky dog,” Bojue said. “That’s another three qian of silver for him.” The two friends played backgammon, and Ximen Qing looked on.

  After dinner, Yueniang and the others sat under the eaves. Little Zhou the barber peeped in from behind the screen. “Zhou,” said Li Ping’er, “you have just come at the right moment. Come and shave my son’s head. His hair is very long.”

  The barber came forward and kowtowed. “That is what Master said,” he told them.

  Yueniang said: “Sixth Sister, we must look at the calendar first and make sure that it is a lucky day.”

  Jinlian told Xiaoyu to fetch the calendar. When the maid brought it, Jinlian looked at it and said: “Today is the twenty-first day of the fourth month. It is a gengxu day, and under the influence of the Golden Dog. It is a good day for divine worship, for starting on a journey, making clothes, bathing, shaving and building. The afternoon is the most auspicious part of the day.”

  “In that case,” Yueniang said, “the maid shall bring some hot water to wash the baby’s head.” She told the barber to amuse the baby while he was having his head shaved, and Xiaoyu to stand beside him with a kerchief to catch the hair. After a few strokes of the razor the child howled lustily. The barber was going on in spite of the crying, when, suddenly, the baby screamed and fell in a fit. No sound came from him and his face went purple. This frightened Li Ping’er. She cried: “Stop! Stop!” Zhou put his instruments together and went hastily away.

  “The baby is not strong enough,” Yueniang said. “We should have cut his hair ourselves instead of having him shaved. See what a state he’s got into.”

  The baby gasped for a long time and at last began to howl again. Li Ping’er was greatly relieved. She began to play with him. “Did Little Zhou dare to come and shave my boy?” she said to him. “Did he shave half his head and treat him roughly? Let us bring him back and punish him.” She took the child to Yueniang.

  “You naughty little beggar,” Yueniang said. “Crying like that when you are shaved. Now the part that has been left unshaven makes you look like a tonsured thief.”

  They played with him for a while, and Li Ping’er gave him to the nurse. “Don’t give him any milk now,” Yueniang said. “Let him sleep a while and then feed him.” The nurse took him to the front court.

  Laian came for the barber’s instruments. “Zhou is so frightened that his face is as white as a sheet,” he said. Yueniang asked whether the barber had been given anything to eat. “Yes,” Laian said, “and my father has given him five qian of silver.”

  “Take him a pot of wine,” said Yueniang. “We don’t want to terrify him. He has a hard enough life.” Xiaoyu heated some wine and gave it to Laian with a dish of preserved meat. The boy took it to the barber.

  “Look at the calendar,” Yueniang said to Jinlian,” and tell me when the next renzi day is.”

  “It is the twenty-third,” Jinlian said. “About the time of the day of Corn in the Ear. Why do you wish to know?”

  “Oh, no particular reason,” Yueniang said. “I was just wondering.”

  Guijie took the calendar and examined it. “The twenty-fourth is my mother’s birthday. What a pity I won’t be at home for it.”

  “The tenth of last month was your sister’s birthday,” Jinlian said. “Now it is your mother’s. You people in the bawdy house suffer from two diseases on the same day and have three birthdays. In the daytime you have the money disease and at night the husband disease. In the morning, it is your mother’s birthday; at noon, your sister’s; and your own in the evening. It is very funny, all these birthdays coming in a lump. When your husband has any money, you had better make the best of the opportunity and celebrate all your birthdays together.” Guijie laughed.

  Ximen Qing sent Huatong to summon Guijie. She went to Yueniang’s room to powder her face and then to the garden. Under the arbor a square table had been set, and on it were two large plates of roasted pork and many other dishes. The friends were eating, and Guijie served them with wine.

  “Let me say this in your father’s hearing,” Ying Bojue said. “I am not talking for the sake of talking. I want to say that this business of yours is settled. Your father has done what was necessary at the district office, and you will not be arrested. But to whom do you owe this kindness? To me, who urged your father so strongly that he decided to intervene on your behalf. Now you must sing one of your favorite songs as a return to me, while I am drinking my wine.”

  Guijie laughed. “You ghostly beggar,” she said. “You think too much of yourself. I don’t believe Father pays the slightest attention to you.”

  “You little whore,” Bojue said. “The sacred texts are not yet read, and already you would strike the priest. But don’t go too far. Don’t laugh at the priest because he hasn’t got a mother-in-law. If I were a priest, I could deal with you myself, you young strumpet. And don’t make fun of me. There are still some limbs that I can move.”

  Guijie struck him as hard as she could with the fan she held. Ximen Qing laughed. “You dog,” he said, “your sons will be thieves and your daughters whores. And even that will not be as much as you deserve.”

  They all laughed. Guijie slowly took her lute and put it across her k
nees. She opened her scarlet lips and showed the whiteness of her teeth. Then she sang the song of the orioles.

  Who would have dreamed that this so fragrant body

  Could have been wasted and brought low by suffering?

  Her mirror is tarnished and she has no heart

  To polish it.

  She is too languid to adorn her face with powder,

  Too languid to set flowers in her hair.

  Her brows are knit in bitterness.

  “You used to like him,” Bojue said, “and you should be tender with him now. You ought not to treat him so unkindly.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Guijie said, and went on with her song.

  Most hard to bear is the sound of the horn

  Which the watchman blows on his Tower of vigil.

  It breaks her heart.

  “Your heart is not broken yet,” Bojue said, “but I warn you not to put too great a strain upon it. The string may break.”

  Guijie hit him hard. “You rascal,” she scolded. “Are you quite mad today, that you fool with me like this?” She sang about the meeting of the virtuous guests.

  The windows are calm and silent

  The moon shines brightly.

  Alone, she leans upon the screen.

  She hears the sudden cry of a wild goose that has lost her mate,

  Calling outside the hall.

  It wakes her to the memory of ten thousand griefs.

  The night watch passes like an age

  The water clock moves slowly.

  She does not see the dimness of the lamps

  The burned-out ashes of the incense.

  She tries to sleep, but how can sleep

  Come peacefully to her?

  “Oh, you foolish little whore,” Bojue said, “why can’t you sleep in peace? Nobody’s arrested you yet. Why don’t you sleep at home? You managed to escape into somebody’s house, and still you are worried all day long. You won’t be happy till the man comes back from the Eastern Capital.”

  This made Guijie angry. “Father,” she said, “listen to Beggar Ying amusing himself at my expense. I don’t know why he does it.”

  “Yes,” Bojue said. “Now you realize that he is your father.”

  Guijie did not answer him. She took up her lute and went on with her song.

  When I think of him, when I think of him

  How can my heart not be troubled?

  When I am alone, when I am alone

  Tears fall from my cheeks like pearls.

  “There was once a man,” Bojue said, “who was always piddling. One day his mother died, and, in due observance of the rites, he slept before the coffin. He piddled again. Someone came and saw that the bedclothes were wet, and asked what had happened. The man didn’t know what to say. ‘Can’t you see?’ he said. ‘It was the tears falling from my stomach.’ It is just the same with your song. The girl could not think what to say, so she had to howl in secret.”

  “You shameless little boy,” Guijie said. “Were you there to see? You’re crazy.” She continued her song.

  I hate him. I hate him.

  I can never tell the things he did.

  To this place I have fled, hating myself

  Because I dealt with him so faithfully.

  “Oh, you foolish little whore,” Bojue said. “In these days it is impossible to deceive even a three-year-old child. How could anyone expect you to be honest with the clients of your house of joy? Now I’ll sing you one of the songs of the South.”

  In these days we cannot say

  Who is straight and who is crooked.

  The world is full of cunning spooks

  And all pretend to love us dearly.

  They plot to bury us alive

  And put a jar upon our heads.

  The old whores think of nothing but cash

  And the poor little whores stretch out their necks

  To make the business flourish.

  Their bitterness is as great

  As that of drowning in the river.

  The grief we get of them

  Drives us to seek a well.

  When will their cup of bitterness be full?

  Far better would it be to live as horse or donkey.

  Than make a living by such dirty business.

  Guijie began to cry. Ximen Qing slapped Ying Bojue and said, laughingly: “You will kill somebody with those silly jokes of yours.” To Guijie he said: “Don’t cry. Go on with your songs and don’t mind him.”

  “Brother Ying,” Xie Xida said, “why are you so rude to my daughter, treating her so unkindly? If you say another word, may you grow a big sore on your mouth.”

  After a while Guijie took up her lute again and sang:

  Men all say that he is noble and true...

  Bojue began to say something, but Xie Xida clapped a hand to his mouth. He bade Guijie continue and pay no attention to Bojue.

  But the rogue is a deceiver.

  His eyes are open wide, but lips and heart

  Speak different stories.

  Xie Xida took his hand away from Bojue’s mouth. “If they did speak the same language, there would be no harm done,” Bojue said. “But of course they never do. Why, the mouth might not agree even if your ‘tiger’s mouth’ does—at least after two or three cones of moxa are burned there.”

  “Have you seen that done, you white-browed, red-eyed fellow?” said Guijie.

  “Of course I’ve seen it. I saw it in the Hall of the Joy Star.”

  Ximen Qing and the others laughed. Guijie continued.

  He swore by mountain and by ocean.

  He lied as though he spoke the truth.

  Nearly did I suffer from love sickness for him,

  That deceiver.

  Now I know his deceit, but what can I do?

  “What does life hold in store for you indeed?” Bojue said. “Why, he will certainly become a general one of these days.”

  Guijie sang again.

  Every day we are farther and farther apart.

  When shall we meet again?

  You have wronged me, who have waited for you

  With such longing and such patience.

  Even in my dreams I know

  The clouds and rain upon Wu Mountain

  Can never meet again.

  All my life long I must be

  The widowed phoenix, you my widower.

  She brought the song to an end.

  Your love has waned, you leave me lonely.

  All that life meant is now but emptiness.

  “Excellent! Excellent!” Xie Xida cried. “You take the lute,” he said to Shutong,” and I will offer her a cup of wine to put her in a better humor.”

  “Yes,” said Bojue, “and I will offer her something to eat. I seem to be no use to anybody, so I’ll make this offering as amends for my evil deeds.”

  “Go away, you beggar,” Guijie said. “Who wants your attentions? First you strike a man with your fist and then pat him on the back.”

  Xie Xida offered Guijie three cups of wine one after the other. Then he said to Bojue: “We have still a couple of games to play.” They began to play again. Ximen Qing made a sign to Guijie and went out.

  “Brother,” Bojue said, as Ximen was going, “if you are going to the inner court, bring me some fragrant tea leaves. The garlic I had is making my breath smell.”

  “Where am I to get any fragrant tea?” Ximen said.

  “Now, Brother, don’t try to hoodwink me. I happen to know that Liu, the educational officer at Hangzhou, sent you a lot. Surely you don’t want to keep it all for yourself.” Ximen Qing laughed and went away. Guijie went out too.

  She plucked a few flowers and then disappeared. Bojue and Xie Xida played three games. Then, as Ximen Qing did not return, they said to Huatong: “What is your father doing in the inner court?”

  “He will be back soon,” the boy replied.

  “Will he?” said Bojue. “There is something funny about this.” He
said to Xie Xida: “You wait here, and I’ll go and look for him.” Xie Xida and Huatong played chess together.

  Ximen Qing had gone to Li Ping’er’s room to get some of his medicine. Then he came to the Arbor of Wild Roses and there met Guijie. He took her to the Snow Cavern. He shut the door, sat down on a small bed, and took Guijie on his knee. He showed his weapon to her and she was startled by it. “How did you make it so huge?” she said. Ximen told her about the Indian Monk. Then he asked her to bend her white neck, open her red lips and toy with it for a while. He gently lifted her two tiny feet, raised her in his arms, set her upon a chair and got to work. Meanwhile, Ying Bojue was looking everywhere for him without success. At last, he went through a small grotto under the mound of greenery, and so came to the Arbor of Wild Roses. Then he passed the Arbor of Grapes and so came to the Snow Cavern. It was deeply hidden in the thicknesses of the bamboos and pine trees.

  He could hear someone laughing softly, but could not make out where the sound was coming from. He went on tiptoe to the cavern and pulled up the lattice. But the door was fast. He could hear Guijie’s trembling voice calling Ximen Qing her darling. “Oh, please be quick,” he heard her say, “I am afraid of someone coming.” Then Ying Bojue gave a shout and pushed open the door. Ximen Qing, with Guijie’s legs around him, was doing splendid work.

  “Quick,” cried Bojue, “fetch some water. There is a fight going on here.”

  “You frightened me, you silly thing, rushing in like that,” Guijie said.