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A Dream of Red Mansion

Page 192

by Cao Xueqin


  “I met him in spirit a long time ago.”

  “Then you know, no doubt, where he is now?”

  “Baoyu means ‘divine jade.’ Before the raid on the Rong and Ning Mansions, on the day when Baochai and Daiyu separated, that jade had already left the world of men to escape from calamity and effect a reunion. Then, former ties of affection severed, form and essence once more became one. It further showed its miraculous origin by passing the examination with distinction and begetting a noble son, proving that this jade is a treasure tempered by the divine powers of nature, not to be compared with ordinary objects. It was taken to the mortal world by the Buddhist of Infinite Space and the Taoist of Boundless Time. Now that its mortal course is run, they have carried it back to its original place: this is what has happened to Baoyu.”

  Yucun, though he understood barely half of this, nodded and marveled, “So that’s the way it was! I was too ignorant to know. But why, with such a spiritual origin, was Baoyu so enamoured of girls before he became so enlightened? Would you explain that?”

  “This may be hard for you to grasp fully, sir. The Illusory Land of Great Void is the Blessed Land of Truth. By reading the registers twice, he saw the beginning and the ending too all set down there in detail. How could that fail to enlighten him? Since the fairy herb has reverted to her true form, shouldn’t the jade of ‘spiritual understanding’ do the same?”

  Yucun was mystified, but knowing that this was some divine secret he did not press for a fuller explanation. “You have told me about Baoyu,” he said. “But there are many ladies in our humble clan; how is it that apart from the Imperial Consort all the others came to such undistinguished ends?”

  “You must allow me to speak bluntly, sir. All noble ladies come from the realm of love and retribution. From time immemorial, carnal desire has been their cardinal sin, and they must not even immerse themselves in love. Thus Cui Yingying and Su Xiaoxiao were immortals with earthly desires, while Song Yu and Sima Xiangru were writers of genius whose works were wicked. Anyone ensnared by love can come to no good end!”

  Yucun absently stroked his beard and sighed. “I have one more question, Reverend Immortal,” he ventured. “Will the Rong and Ning Mansions be restored to their former prosperity?”

  “It is an immutable law that the good are favoured by fortune while the dissolute meet with calamity. In these two mansions now, the good are laying up virtue, the bad repenting their crimes; so naturally their houses will prosper again with the orchid and fragrant osmanthus blooming together.”

  Yucun lowered his head in thought, then suddenly laughed, “I get it! One of the sons of their house called Lan has passed the examination; so that prediction of yours has come true. But just now, Reverend Immortal, you spoke of ‘the orchid and fragrant osmanthus blooming together,’ and you mentioned that Baoyu has begotten a noble son. Is this as yet unborn son going to advance rapidly in his official career?”

  “This belongs to the future,” said Shiyin with a smile. “It’s not for me to predict.”

  Yucun had more questions on the tip of his tongue but the other, unwilling to answer them, ordered his servant to prepare food and invited Yucun to share it. After the meal, Shiyin forestalled further questions about Yucun’s own future by urging him to have a rest in his temple.

  “I still have some worldly affairs to settle and must attend to them today,” he explained.

  “What worldly affairs can you have, Immortal One, you whose life is given to cultivating virtue?” asked Yucun in surprise.

  “Simply some private business concerned with family affection.”

  “What do you mean?” Yucun was yet more amazed.

  “You are unaware, sir, that my daughter Yinglian met with misfortune as a child, and at the start of your official career you judged a case in which she was involved. She has married into the Xue family, but is dying now in childbirth leaving behind her a son to carry on the Xues’ line. Since the time has come for her to sever all mortal ties, I must go to guide her spirit.” With a flick of his sleeve he rose.

  Yucun, left dazed, fell asleep in this thatched temple by the Ford of Awakening in the Stream of Rapid Reversal, while Shiyin went to conduct Xiangling to the Illusory Land of Great Void to enter her name in the record of the Goddess of Disenchantment. As he passed the archway, he saw a monk and a priest come drifting towards him.

  “Congratulations, holy men!” he called. “Have you severed all their entanglements of love?”

  “Not completely,” they replied. “But we have brought that stupid object back with us. We still have to return him to his original place and record his experiences in the world, so that he won’t have descended there for nothing.”

  Shiyin saluted and left them, whereupon the monk and the priest took the divine jade to Blue Ridge Peak and left it in the place where Nu Wa had melted down stones to repair heaven. This done, they went their different ways. Thus:

  A book not of this world records events not of this world;

  A man with two lives reverts to his first form.

  One day the Taoist immortal the Reverend Void, coming to Blue Ridge Peak again, found there the stone left unused when heaven was repaired, with the same inscription on it that he had seen before. On reading it carefully once more, he discovered that appended to the epilogue-poem were more accounts of the denouement.

  He nodded and sighed, “When I first read this strange story of Brother Stone, I said that it could be made known to the world and therefore had it transcribed. But at that time I hadn’t read how he returned to his original form and place. This is quite a story—I wonder when it was added? Apparently Brother Stone after his descent to the world of men was burnished and awoke to the truth, which is highly gratifying! If too many years pass and the inscription is blurred, it may be misconstrued. I had better transcribe it again and find someone with the leisure to circulate it, to show the illusory nature of marvels, mundane matters, truth and falsehood. Then perhaps some men tired of mortal vanity may return to the truth, or some friendly mountain spirit may enable the Stone to descend again to the world.”

  Thereupon he copied out the inscription again, tucked it into his sleeve and searched the haunts of splendour and wealth; but he found there only men striving to advance their careers or to feed and clothe themselves—not one had time for the story of the Stone. However, when he reached the thatched temple by the Ford of Awakening in the Stream of Rapid Reversal, he discovered a man sleeping there and felt that here was someone sufficiently leisured to be given this Story of the Stone. The sleeper did not wake when called, but when the Reverend Void tugged at him he sat up slowly and opened his eyes, then leafed through the manuscript before putting it down again.

  “Yes, I witnessed this whole business myself,” he said. “The account you have copied out is quite correct. I’ll tell you someone who will circulate it, so that this extraordinary case can be concluded.”

  The Reverend Void at once asked whom he had in mind.

  “Wait till such-and-such a year, month, day and hour, then go to Mourning-the-Red Studio where you will find a certain Mr. Cao Xueqin,” was the answer. “Just give him Jia Yucun’s name, and tell him what you want of him.” With that he lay down and went to sleep again.

  The Reverend Void bore these instructions in mind and, after no one knows how many generations or aeons, sure enough he found Mourning-the-Red Studio, where Mr. Cao Xueqin was reading an ancient history. He gave him Jia Yucun’s message and handed him the Story of the Stone.

  Cao Xueqin laughed, “This certainly sounds like Jia Yucun!”

  “How did you come to know him, sir?” asked the Reverend Void. “What makes you willing to pass this tale on for him?”

  Mr. Cao chuckled, “They call you Void, and you really are devoid of sense! Since this is a fictitious rustic tale, provided it contains no clerical errors or perverse contradictions, it will serve to while away the time with a couple of friends after wine and food, or to dispel loneli
ness some rainy evening under the lamp by the window. It doesn’t have to be vouched for or launched by men of consequence. All these questions you ask show that you’re a pig-headed pedant and won’t get you anywhere!”

  The Reverend Void threw back his head and laughed, then tossed him the manuscript and left saying to himself, “So it’s all hot air— fantastic! Neither author, transcriber, nor readers can tell what it is about. It is nothing but a literary diversion to entertain readers.”

  When this tale later came to be read, someone wrote four lines of verse to elucidate the author’s meaning, as follows:

  A tale of grief is told,

  Fantasy most melancholy.

  Since all live in a dream,

  Why laugh at others’ folly?

 

 

 


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