by Cao Xueqin
“This must be the main reception palace,” observed Jia Zheng. “Its one fault is that it is too luxurious.”
“Unavoidably so,” they reasoned. “Although Her Royal Highness prizes frugality, this is no more than is due to her present exalted rank.”
They were now at the foot of a marble arch finely carved with rampant dragons and coiling serpents.
“What should be inscribed here?” asked Jia Zheng.
“The Fairy Land of Penglai’?” He shook his head and said nothing.
As for Baoyu, he felt strangely stirred by this sight, as if he had seen a place of this kind before—though just when he could not remember. Called upon to compose an inscription, he was too preoccupied to think of anything else. The others, not knowing this, imagined that his wits were wandering and he was exhausted after his long ordeal. Fearing that if he were pressed too hard the consequences might be serious, they urged his father to give him a day’s grace.
Jia Zheng, aware that his mother might well be anxious, said with an ironic smile, “So sometimes you are at a loss too, you young rascal. Very well, I’ll give you until tomorrow. But if no inscription is ready then, so much the worse for you. This is the most important place, so mind you do your best.”
They continued with the tour of inspection and had covered little more than half the grounds when a servant reported that someone had arrived with a message from Yucun.
“We can’t see the rest of the places,” said Jia Zheng. “But by going out the other way we can at least get a general idea, even if we don’t see them all.”
He led the way to a large bridge above a crystal curtain of cascading water. This was the sluice admitting water from outside. Jia Zheng asked for a name for it.
“Since this is the source of the River of Seeping Fragrance it could be called ‘Seeping Fragrance Lock,’“ Baoyu suggested.
“Rubbish,” said his father. “We just won’t have ‘Seeping Fragrance.’“
On they went past quiet lodges and thatched huts, stone walls and pergolas of flowers, a temple secluded in the hills and a convent half hidden among the trees, long covered walks, meandering grottoes, square mansions and round kiosks, none of which they had time to enter. However, it was so long since their last rest that all were footsore and weary by the time they saw another lodge in front, and Jia Zheng said, “Here we must rest a little.”
He led the way in past some double-flowering peach in blossom and through a moon-gate made of bamboo over which climbed flowering plants. Whitewashed walls and green willows confronted them then. Along the walls ran covered corridors, and the rockery in the centre of the courtyard was flanked on one side by plantains, on the other by a red multipetal led crab-apple tree, its branches trained in the shape of an umbrella, with green trailing tendrils and petals red as cinnabar.
“What superb blossoms” they exclaimed. “We have never seen such a splendid one before.”
“This is a foreign variety called ‘Maiden Apple,’“ Jia Zheng told them. “Tradition has it that it comes from the Land of Maidens, and that it blossoms profusely in that country; but that is nothing but an old wives’ tale.”
“If so, how did the name come to be handed down?” they wondered.
“Quite likely the name ‘Maiden’ was given by some poet,” said Baoyu, “because this flower is as red as rouged cheeks and as frail as a delicate girl. Then some vulgar character made up that story and ignorant people believed it.”
“A most plausible explanation,” said the others.
They sat down on some benches in the corridor and Jia Zheng at once asked for another inscription.
“Plantains and Storks’?” one proposed.
“Or ‘Towering Splendour and Shimmering Radiance.’“
Jia Zheng and the rest approved, as indeed did Baoyu, adding, “It’s a pity, though....”Asked to explain himself, he said, “Plantain and crab-apple blossom suggest both red and green. It’s a pity to refer to one and not the other.”
“What do you suggest then?” demanded his father.
“Something like ‘Red Fragrance and Green Jade’ would bring out the charm of both, I think.”
“Too feeble!” Jia Zheng shook his head.
He led the way into the building. It was unusually set out with no clear-cut divisions between the different rooms. There were only partitions formed of shelves for books, bronze tripods, stationery, flower vases and miniature gardens, some round, some square, some shaped like sunflowers, plantain leaves or intersecting arcs. They were beautifully carved with the motifs “clouds and a hundred bats” of the “three companions of winter”—pine, plum and bamboo—as well as landscapes and figures, birds and flowers, scrollwork, imitation curios and symbols of good fortune or long life. All executed by the finest craftsmen, they were brilliantly coloured and inlaid with gold or precious stones. The effect was splendid, the workmanship exquisite. Here a strip of coloured gauze concealed a small window, there a gorgeous curtain hid a door. There were also niches on the walls to fit antiques, lyres, swords, vases or other ornaments, which hung level with the surface of the wall. Their amazement and admiration for the craftsmen’s ingenuity knew no bounds.
After passing two partitions Jia Zheng and his party lost their way. To their left they saw a door, to their right a window; but when they went forward their passage was blocked by a bookshelf, Turning back they glimpsed the way through another window; but on reaching the door they suddenly saw a party just like their own confronting them—they were looking at a big mirror. Passing round this they came to more doorways.
“Follow me, sir,” urged Jia Zhen with a smile. “Let me take you to the back courtyard and show you a short cut.”
He conducted them past two gauze screens out into a courtyard filled with rose trellises. Skirting round the fence, Baoyu saw a clear stream in front.
All exclaimed in astonishment, “Where does this water come from?” Jia Zhen pointed to a spot in the distance.
“It flows from that lock we saw through the ravine, then from the northeast valley to the little farm, where some is diverted southwest.
Here both streams converge to flow out underneath the wall.”
“Miraculous!” they marvelled.
Now another hill barred their way and they no longer had any sense of direction; but Jia Zhen laughingly made them follow him, and as soon as they rounded the foot of the hill they found themselves on a smooth highway not far from the main entrance.
“How diverting,” they said. “Really most ingenious.”
And so they left the garden.
Baoyu was longing to get back to the girls, but receiving no dismissal from his father he had to follow him to the library. Now Jia Zheng suddenly remembered his presence.
“Why are you still here?” he demanded. “Haven’t you had enough of wandering around? The old lady will be worrying about you. She’s wasting her love on you. Off you go, quick.”
Then at last Baoyu could withdraw. What followed is recorded in the next chapter.
Chapter 18
Yuanchun Visits Her Parents on the Feast of Lanterns
Daiyu Helps Her True Love by Passing Him a Poem
As soon as Baoyu was out of the courtyard, the pages who attended Jia Zheng stepped forward to throw their arms around his waist.
They said, “It’s lucky for you that the master was in such a good mood today. The old lady sent several times to ask how things were, and you should thank us for telling her he looked pleased. Otherwise she’d have sent for you and you wouldn’t have had this chance to shine. Everybody said your poems were the best. Today’s your lucky day, so give us a tip.”
“You shall each have a string of cash,” he promised them. “Who hasn’t seen a string of cash?” cried one. “Give me your pouch.” Swarming round without so much as a “by your leave,” they stripped him of his scented pouch, fan-sheath and other pendants. “Now let’s see him back!” they cried.
With one of them carrying
him, the others in a troop escorted him along to the outer courtyard of the Lady Dowager’s apartments.
Since she had sent several times to see how her grandson was faring, she was naturally pleased when her nannies and maids brought him in, none the worse for his experience.
When presently Xiren handed him tea she noticed that not one of his pendants was left. “So those shameless wretches have taken all your things again,” she remarked with a smile.
Daiyu came over to see if this was true. Sure enough, all his trinkets had gone.
“So you’ve given them that pouch I made you too!” she remarked. “All right, that’s the last thing you’ll ever get from me.”
Going crossly back to her own room, she took her scissors and started cutting up the sachet she had been making for him at Baoyu’s own request.
Baoyu, seeing that she was angry, knew that something was up and hurried after her. Too late. Although the sachet had not been finished, the embroidery on it was very fine and she had put a lot of work into it, so he was annoyed to see it spoilt for no reason. Quickly undoing his collar, he pulled out the pouch he was wearing over his red tunic.
“Look, what’s this?” he asked, showing it to her. “When have I ever given anything of yours to someone else?”
Realizing that he treasured her gift so much that he had kept it safely hidden away, Daiyu repented of her hastiness and hung her head in silence.
“You didn’t have to cut it up,” went on Baoyu reproachfully. “I know you don’t like giving me anything, so I’ll let you have this one back too, how about that?” Tossing it into her lap, he turned to go.
Choking with anger Daiyu burst into tears. She picked up the pouch meaning to cut it to pieces as well. But he rushed back to stop her, begging, “Dear cousin, spare it!”
She threw down the scissors to brush away her tears.
“You don’t have to treat me like that, kind one moment and cruel the next. If it’s a quarrel you want, we’d better have nothing more to do with each other. Why carry on like this?”
She flung herself tearfully down on her bed with her face towards the wall, wiping her streaming eyes. In desperation, Baoyu leant over her begging, “Dear cousin, dear kind cousin, do forgive me!”
Meanwhile the Lady Dowager had been asking where Baoyu was. Hearing that he was with Daiyu she said, “That’s good. Let them amuse themselves together for a while. He deserves a little relaxation after being kept SO long under check by his father. Just see that they don’t quarrel. You mustn’t upset him.” And to this the servants agreed.
Unable to shake Baoyu off, Daiyu got up. “Since you won’t give me any peace, I’m going to leave you,” she declared.
As she started out he said with a smile, “Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.” He was fastening on the pouch again as he spoke.
Daiyu snatched at it, scolding, “First you say you don’t want it, and now you’re putting it on again. I really blush for you.” She started to giggle.
“Dear cousin, do make me another sachet tomorrow.”
“We’ll have to see how I feel.”
They went together then to Lady Wang’s quarters where they happened to find Baochai. Everyone was in a state of great excitement, as the twelve young actresses bought by Jia Qiang in Suzhou had just arrived, together with the instructors he had hired and the costumes for the operas they would perform.
Aunt Xue had moved to quiet, secluded quarters in the northeast part of the grounds, and Pear Fragrance Court had been made ready for the rehearsals. Some family maids who has once trained as opera-singers themselves but were now hoary dames were sent to look after the little actresses, while Jia Qiang was put in charge of their daily expenses and the provision of everything they required.
Just at this time, Lin Zhixiao’s wife came to report, “The twenty-four little nuns—twelve Buddhist and twelve Taoist—whom I selected and purchased have now arrived, and their twenty-four new habits are ready. There’s another girl, too, who had entered holy orders without shaving her head. She comes from a Suzhou family of scholars and officials. She was delicate as a child, and although they bought many substitute novices for her it was no use—her health didn’t improve until she joined the Buddhist order herself. That’s how she became a lay sister. She’s eighteen this year and her name in religion is Miaoyu. Her parents are dead now and she only has two old nurses and one maid to look after her. She’s widely read and well-versed in the sutras, besides being very good-looking. She came to the capital last year, having heard there were relics of Guanyin here and canons inscribed on pattra leaves. She’s been living in the Sakyamuni Convent outside the West Gate. Her tutor was an excellent diviner, but she passed away last winter. Miaoyu had meant to escort the coffin back to her native place; but as her tutor lay dying she told the girl not to go back home but to wait quietly where she was for something fortune had in store for her. So she didn’t accompany the coffin back.”
“In that case, why not ask her here?” put in Lady Wang.
“She’d refuse,” objected Lin Zhixiao’s wife. “She’d be afraid of being looked down on in a noble household.”
‘A young lady from an official family is bound to be rather proud,” agreed Lady Wang. “Why not send her a written invitation?”
Lin Zhixiao’s wife agreed and left. One of the secretaries was instructed to make out an invitation, and the following day servants were sent with a carriage and sedan-chair to fetch Miaoyu. As to what followed, we can leave that till later.
A servant came just then to request Xifeng to open the storeroom and issue the gauze and silk needed by the workmen for screens. Another asked her to store away the gold and silver utensils. Meanwhile Lady Wang and her maids were busy too.
So Baochai suggested, “Let’s not stay here where we’re only in the way. Let’s go and find Tanchun.”
She took Baoyu and Daiyu to the rooms of Yingchun and others to while away the time.
For Lady Wang and her helpers the days passed in a flurry of preparations until, towards the end of the tenth month, all was ready. The stewards had handed in their accounts; antiques and precious objects had been set out; the pleasure grounds were well-stocked with cranes, peacocks, deer, rabbits, chicken and geese to be reared in appropriate places; Jia Qiang had twenty operas ready; and the little Buddhist and Taoist nuns had memorized various sutras and incantations.
Then Jia Zheng, able at last to breathe more freely, invited the Lady Dowager to make a final inspection of the Garden and see that all was in order with nothing overlooked. This done, he chose an auspicious date and wrote a memorial, and the very same day that it was presented the Son of Heaven acceded to his request. The Imperial Consort would be permitted to visit her parents for the Feast of Lanterns on the fifteenth of the first month the following year. This threw the whole household into such a commotion that, hard at work day and night, they scarcely had time to celebrate the New Year.
In a twinkling the Feast of Lanterns would arrive. On the eighth of the first month eunuchs came from the Palace to inspect the general layout of the Garden and the apartment where the Imperial consort would change her clothes, sit with her family, receive their homage, feast them and retire to rest. The eunuch in charge of security also posted many younger eunuchs as guards by the screened and curtained entrances to the retiring rooms. Detailed instructions were given to all members of the household as to where they should withdraw, where they should kneel, serve food or make announcements—all the exact etiquette to be observed. Outside, officers from the Board of Works and the Chief of the Metropolitan Police had the streets swept and cleared of loiterers. Jia She superintended the craftsmen making ornamental lanterns and fireworks, and by the fourteenth everything was ready. But no one, high or low, slept a wink that night.
Before dawn the next day all those with official ranks from the Lady Dowager downwards put on full ceremonial dress. Everywhere in the Garden were hangings and screens brilliantly embroidered with dancing dr
agons and flying phoenixes; gold and silver glittered, pearls and precious stones shimmered; richly blended incense burnt in the bronze tripods, and fresh flowers filled the vases. Not a cough broke the solemn silence.
Jia She and the other men waited outside in the west street entrance, the Lady Dowager and the women outside the main gate, the ends of the street and the alleys leading to it all having been screened off.
They were growing tired of waiting when a eunuch rode up on a big horse. The Lady Dowager welcomed him in and asked for news.
“It will be a long time yet,” the eunuch told her. “Her Highness is to dine at one, pray to Buddha in the Palace of the Precious spirit at half past two, and at five go to feast in the Palace of Great Splendour and look at the display of lanterns before asking leave from the Emperor. She can hardly set out until seven.”
This being the case, Xifeng suggested that the Lady Dowager and Lady Wang should go inside to rest and come back later.
So the Lady Dowager and others retired, leaving Xifeng in charge. She ordered the stewards to conduct the eunuchs to where refreshments were waiting. Then she had loads of candles carried in for all the lanterns.
It was not until the candles had been lit that a clatter of hooves was heard in the street. The next moment up panted ten or more eunuchs, clapping their hands as they ran. At this signal the other eunuchs said, “Her Highness is coming!” They all rushed to their posts.
For a long time they waited in silence, Jia She and the young men of the family by the entrance of the west street, the Lady Dowager and the women in front of the main gate.
Then two eunuchs wearing scarlet uniforms rode slowly up to the entrance of the west street. Dismounting, they led their horses behind the screens, then stood to attention, their faces turned towards the west. After some time another pair appeared, then another, until there were ten pairs lined up and soft music could be heard in the distance.
And now a long procession approached: several pairs of eunuchs carrying dragon banners, others with phoenix fans, pheasant plumes and ceremonial insignia, as well as gold censers burning Imperial incense. Next came a curved-handled yellow umbrella on which were embroidered seven phoenixes, and under this a head-dress, robe, girdle and slippers. After this came attendant eunuchs bearing a rosary, embroidered handkerchiefs, a rinse-bowl, fly-whisks and the like.
