A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  “I fell into a cesspool in the dark,” lied Jia Rui.

  Back in his own room he stripped off his clothes and washed. Only then did he realize with rage the trick Xifeng had played him, yet the recollection of her charms still made him long to embrace her. There was no sleep for him that night. Afterwards, however, although he still longed for Xifeng, he steered clear of the Rong Mansion.

  Both Jia Rong and Jia Qiang kept dunning him for payment, so that his fear of being found out by his grandfather and the hopeless passion which consumed him were now aggravated by the burden of debts, while he had to work hard at his lessons every day. The unmarried twenty-year-old, constantly dreaming of Xifeng, could not help indulging in “finger-play.” All this, combined with the effect of two nights of exposure, soon made him fall ill. Before a year was out he suffered from heartburn, loss of appetite, emissions in his urine and blood in his phlegm; his legs trembled, his eyes smarted; he was feverish at night and exhausted by day. And finally he collapsed in a fit of delirium.

  The doctors who were called in dosed him with dozens of catties of cinnamon, aconitum roots, turtle-shell, liriope, polygonatum and so forth—but all to no effect. With the coming of spring he took a turn for the worse.

  His grandfather rushed to and fro in search of new physicians, yet they proved useless. And when pure ginseng was prescribed this was beyond Jia Dairu’s means: he had to ask for help from the Rong Mansion. Lady Wang told Xifeng to weigh out two ounces for him.

  “All our recent supply was used the other day in the old lady’s medicine,” said Xifeng. “You told me to keep the remaining whole roots for General Yang’s wife, and as it happens I sent them round yesterday.”

  “If we’ve none, send to your mother-in-law’s for some. Or your Cousin Zhen’s household may let us have what’s needed. If you can save the young man’s life, that will be a good deed.”

  But instead of doing as she was told, Xifeng scraped together less than an ounce of inferior scraps which she dispatched with the message that this was all Her Ladyship had. To Lady Wang, however, she reported that she had collected two ounces and sent them over.

  Jia Rui was so anxious to recover that there was no medicine he would not try, but all the money spent in this way was wasted.

  One day a lame Taoist priest came begging for alms and professes to have specialized in curing diseased due to retribution. Jia Rui heard him from his sick-bed. At once, kowtowing on his pillow he loudly implored his servants to bring the priest in.

  When they complied he seized hold of the Taoist and cried: “Save me, Bodhisattva! Save me!”

  “No medicine can cure your illness,” rejoined the Taoist gravely. “However, I can give you a precious object which will save your life if you look at it every day.”

  He took from his wallet a mirror polished on both sides and engraved on its handle with the inscription: Precious Mirror of Love.

  “This comes from the Hall of the Illusory Spirit in the Land of Great Void,” he told Jia Rui. “It was made by the Goddess of Disenchantment to cure illnesses resulting from lust. Since it has the power to preserve men’s lives, I brought it to the world for the use of intelligent, handsome, high-minded young gentlemen. But you must only look into the back of the mirror. On no account look into the front— remember that! I shall come back for it in three days’ time, by when you should be cured.” He strode off then before anyone could stop him.

  “This is a strange business,” reflected Jia Rui. “Let me try looking at this Taoist’s mirror and see what happens.” He picked it up and looked into the back. Horrors! A skeleton was standing there! Hastily covering it, he swore, “Confound that Taoist giving me such a fright! But let me see What’s on the other side.”

  He turned the mirror over and there inside stood Xifeng, beckoning to him. In raptures he was wafted as if by magic into the mirror, where he indulged with his beloved in the sport of cloud and rain, after which she saw him out.

  He found himself back in his bed and opened his eyes with a cry. The mirror had slipped from his hands and the side with the skeleton was exposed again. Although sweating profusely after his wet dream, the young man was not satisfied. He turned the mirror over again, Xifeng beckoned to him as before, and in he went.

  But after this had happened four times and he was about to leave her for the fourth time, two men came up, fastened iron chains upon him and proceeded to drag him away. He cried out:

  “Let me take the mirror with me!”

  These were the last words he uttered.

  The attendants had simply observed him look into the mirror, let it fall and then open his eyes and pick it up again. This time, however, when the mirror fell he did not stir. They pressed round and saw that he had breathed his last. The sheet under his thighs was cold and wet.

  At once they laid him out and made ready the bier, while his grandparents gave way to uncontrollable grief and cursed the Taoist.

  “This devilish mirror!” swore Jia Dairu. “It must be destroyed before it does any more harm.” He ordered it to be thrown into the fire.

  A voice from the mirror cried out: “Who told you to look at the front? It’s you who’ve taken false for true. Why should you burn me?”

  That same instant in hustled the lame Taoist, shouting, “I can’t let you destroy the Precious Mirror of Love!” Rushing forward he snatched it up, then was off like the wind.

  Jia Dairu lost no time in preparing for the funeral, notifying all concerned that sutras would be chanted in three days’ time and the funeral would take place in seven. The coffin would be left in Iron Threshold Temple until it could be taken to their old home.

  All the members of the clan came to offer condolences. Jia She and Jia Zheng of the Rong Mansion contributed twenty taels each towards the expenses, and Jia Zhen of the Ning Mansion did the same. Others gave three or five taels according to their means, while the families of Jia Rui’s schoolmates collected another twenty or thirty taels. So Jia Dairu, although not well-off, was able to conduct the funeral in style.

  And then, at the end of winter, a letter came from Lin Ruhai saying that he was seriously ill and wished to have his daughter sent home. This increased the Lady Dowager’s distress, but they had to prepare with all speed for Daiyu’s departure; and although Baoyu was most upset he could hardly come between her and her father.

  The Lady Dowager decided that Jia Lian should accompany her granddaughter and bring her safely back. We need not dwell on the presents and arrangements for the journey, which naturally left nothing to be desired. A day was quickly chosen on which Jia Lian and Daiyu took their leave of everyone and, accompanied by attendants, set sail for Yangzhou. For further details, read the next chapter.

  Chapter 13

  Keqing Dies and a Captain of the Imperial Guard Is Appointed

  Xifeng Helps to Manage Affairs in the Ning Mansion

  Xifeng found life excessively dull after her husband’s departure with Daiyu for Yangzhou. She passed the evenings as best she could chatting with Pinger before retiring listlessly to bed.

  One evening, tired of embroidering, she sat nursing her hand-stove by the lamp and told the maid to warm her embroidered quilt early, after which they both went to bed. When the third watch sounded they were still reckoning on their fingers the stage Jia Lian must have reached on his journey. Soon after that, Pinger fell fast asleep. And Xifeng’s eyelids were drooping drowsily when to her astonishment in came Keqing.

  “How you love to sleep, aunt!” cried Keqing playfully. “I’m going home today, yet you won’t even see me one stage of the way. But we’ve always been so close, I couldn’t go without coming to say goodbye. Besides, there’s something I’d like done which it’s no use my entrusting to anyone else.”

  “Just leave it to me,” replied Xifeng, rather puzzled. “You’re such an exceptional woman, aunt, that even men in official belts and caps are no match for you. Is it possible you don’t know the saying that ‘the moon waxes only to wane, water
brims only to overflow,’ and ‘the higher the climb the harder the fall’? Our house has prospered for nearly a hundred years. If one day it happens that at the height of good fortune the ‘tree falls and the monkeys scatter’ as the old saying has it, then what will become of our cultured old family?”

  Quick to comprehend, Xifeng was awe-struck. “Your fears are well-founded,” she said. “But how can we prevent such a calamity?”

  “Now you’re being naive, aunt,” Keqing laughed caustically. “Fortune follows calamity as disgrace follows honour. This has been so from time immemorial. How can men prevent it? The only thing one can do is to make some provision for lean years in times of plenty. All’s well at present except for two things. Take care of them and the future will be secure.”

  Xifeng asked what she had in mind.

  “Although seasonal sacrifices are offered at the ancestral tombs there’s no fixed source of income for this, and although we have a family school there’s no definite fund for it. Of course, while we’re still prosperous, we don’t lack the wherewithal for sacrifices, but where’s it to come from once we fall on hard times?

  “I’d like to suggest that while we’re still rich and noble we should invest in some farms and estates near our ancestral tombs to provide for sacrifices. The family school should be moved to the same place.

  “Let the whole family, old and young alike, draw up rules whereby each branch of the family will take it in turn to manage the land, income and sacrifices for a year. Takings turns will prevent disputes and malpractices like mortgages or sales.

  “Then even if the family property were confiscated because of some crime, the estate for ancestral worship would be exempted and in those hard times the young people could go there to study and farm. They’d have something to fall back on, and there would be no break in the sacrifices.

  “It would be very short-sighted not to take thought for the future in the belief that our present good fortune will last for ever. Before long something marvellous is going to happen which will really ‘pour oil on the flames and add flowers to brocade.’ But it will simply be a flash in the pan, a brief moment of bliss. Whatever happens don’t forget the proverb, ‘Even the grandest feast must have an end.’ Take thought for the future before it is too late.”

  “What marvellous thing is going to happen?” asked Xifeng.

  “Heaven’s secrets mustn’t be divulged. But because of the love between us let me give you some parting advice, and do remember it, aunt!” With that she declaimed:

  “After the three months of the spring, all flowers will fade

  And each will have to find his own way out.”

  Before Xifeng could ask more she was woken with a start by four blows on the chime-bar at the second gate. And a servant announced, “Madam Jia Rong of the East Mansion has passed away.”

  Xifeng broke into a cold sweat. When she had recovered from her stupefaction, she dressed quickly and hurried over to Lady Wang.

  By that time the whole household was lamenting, distressed by this shocking news. The old people recalled Keqing’s filial behaviour, the young people her affectionate ways and the children her kindness; while not one of the servants but wept for grief recollecting her compassion for the poor and humble and her loving goodness to old and young alike.

  But let us return to Baoyu, who was so desolate after Daiyu’s departure that he had given up playing with his companions and went disconsolate to bed each night. Roused from sleep by the announcement of Keqing’s death, he sprang suddenly from his bed. At once he felt a stab of pain in his heart, and with a cry spat out a mouthful of blood.

  Xiren and his other maids rushed up to help him back to bed, asking anxiously what was the matter. Should they get the Lady Dowager to send for a doctor?

  “There’s no need, it’s nothing,” he said. “A hot humour seized on my heart and stopped the normal flow of blood.” He got up again and demanded to be dressed so that he could go to his grandmother and then to the other mansion.

  Anxious though Xiren was, she dared not stop him when he was in this mood.

  The Lady Dowager however protested, “Just after a death their house is unclean. Besides, at night the wind is high. You may just as well go tomorrow.”

  When Baoyu insisted, she ordered a carriage and plenty of attendants for him. They found the gates of the Ning Mansion wide open and brilliantly lit with lanterns on either side. There was an excited coming and going of people and the air was rent by the vociferous wailing from inside the house.

  Alighting from his carriage Baoyu hurried to the room in which Keqing lay and having wept there went in to see Madam You, who happened to be laid up with another bout of dyspepsia. He then paid his respects to Jia Zhen.

  By now Jia Dairu had arrived with Jia Daixiu, Jia Chi, Jia Xiao, Jia Dun, Jia She, Jia Zheng, Jia Cong, Jia Bin, Jia Heng, Jia Guang, Jia Chen, Jia Qiong, Jia Lin, Jia Qiang, Jia Chang, Jia Ling, Jia Yuri, Jia Qin, Jia Zhen, Jia Ping, Jia Zao, Jia Heng, Jia Fen, Jia Fang, Jia Lan, Jia Jun and Jia Zhi.

  Bathed in tears, Jia Zhen was telling Jia Dairu and the others, “Everyone in the family, old and young, distant kin or close friends, knows that my daughter-in-law was infinitely superior to my son. Now that she has gone, my branch of the family is fated to die out.” With that he broke down again.

  The men present tried to console him: “Since she has departed this world it is useless to weep. The main thing now is to decide what must be done.”

  “What must be done?” Jia Zhen clapped his hands. “I’m ready to dispose of all in my possession.”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of Qin Ye, Qin Zhong and some relatives of Madam You as well as her younger sisters. Leaving Jia Qiong, Jia Cen, Jia Lin and Jia Qiang to keep the guests company, Jia Zhen sent to invite someone from the Department of Astrology to choose auspicious days.

  It was decided that the body should remain in the house for seven times seven or forty-nine days, and mourning should start the third day after her death with the issue of obituary notices. During the forty-nine days a hundred and eight Buddhist monks were to perform the Litany of Great Compassion in the main hall to release the souls of those passed away before and after her and win remission for the sins of the deceased. At an altar erected in the Heavenly Fragrance Pavilion, ninety-nine Taoists of the Perfect Truth Sect should pray for forty-nine days for absolution. The coffin would then be taken to the Garden of Concentrated Fragrance, where another fifty high bonzes and fifty high Taoists would sacrifice before it once every seventh day during the forty-nine days.

  Jia Jing alone was untouched by the death of his eldest grandson’s wife. Expecting to attain immortality shortly himself, how could he go home to be soiled by mundane dust and squander all the merit he had acquired? So he left all the funeral arrangements to his son.

  His father’s indifference gave Jia Zhen a free hand to indulge his extravagance. He decided that the cedar-boards he had seen would not do for the coffin and was searching for something better when Xue Pan called to offer condolences.

  “In our timber-yard is some qiang wood from the Iron-Net Mountain across the sea,” said the young man. “A coffin made of this would last for ten thousand years. My father bought this timber for Prince Yi Zhong, but after his disgrace the prince didn’t take it. It’s still stored with us because no one has ventured to buy it. If you like, I’ll have it sent over.”

  Overjoyed by this news, Jia Zhen had the timber fetched without delay. Everyone gathered round and exclaimed in wonder, for the planks for the sides and the base were eight inches thick with a grain like that of the areca palm and the perfume of sandalwood or musk. When tapped they gave off a clear ringing sound like metal or jade.

  Jia Zhen, his face radiant, inquired the price.

  “You couldn’t buy this for a thousand taels,” replied Xue Pan with a smile. “Don’t worry about the price. All you need pay for is having it made up.”

  After copious thanks Jia Zhen lost no time in giving dire
ctions for the wood to be sawn and varnished.

  Jia Zheng objected, “This seems too sumptuous for ordinary people. The best quality cedar-boards would be quite adequate.”

  But Jia Zhen, who would gladly have died in Keqing’s place, would not listen to this suggestion.

  Word was brought that after Keqing’s death one of her maids, Ruizhu, had dashed out her own brains against a pillar. The whole clan praised this act of rare loyalty and Jia Zhen ordered that she be buried with the rites befitting a grandchild, her coffin resting in the Pavilion of Attained Immortality in the Garden of Concentrated Fragrance.

  Another maid, Baozhu, offered to act as Keqing’s god-daughter and take the chief mourner’s part, since her mistress had no child. This pleased Jia Zhen so much that he directed that henceforward Baozhu should be addressed as “miss,” as if she were a daughter of the house.

  Then Baozhu mourned like an unmarried daughter, weeping by the coffin as if her heart would break, while all the clansmen and servants observed the etiquette traditionally prescribed for such occasions with unimpeachable propriety.

  What distressed Jia Zhen now was the fact that his son was only a state scholar. This would not look well in the inscription on the funeral banner and it meant that the retinue would have to be small.

  As luck would have it, however, on the fourth day of the first week of mourning servants with sacrificial offerings arrived from the eunuch Dai Qhuan, chamberlain of the Palace of Great Splendour, who followed in a great palanquin with an official umbrella and gonging and drumming to offer an oblation.

  Jia Zhen ushered him eagerly in and offered him tea in the Bee-Teasing Pavilion. He already had a scheme in mind and soon found occasion to express his wish to purchase a rank for his son.

  Dai Qhuan rejoined with a knowing smile, “To make the funeral more sumptuous, I presume?”

  “Your assumption is correct, sir.”

  “By a fortunate coincidence there happens to be a good post going. There are two vacancies in the corps of three hundred officers of the Imperial Guard. Yesterday the third brother of the Marquis of Xiangyang sent me 1,500 taels and asked me for one of them; and since we are old friends, as you know, for his grandfather’s sake I made no difficulties but agreed out of hand. Who would have expected that Fatty Feng, Military Governor of Yongxing, wants to buy the other appointment for his son; but I haven’t yet had time to give him an answer. If your boy wants it, make haste and write out a statement of his antecedents.”