Courtesans and Opium

by AnonYMous

  When the maid noticed him shrinking into himself, she remarked, “Master Mu, I’m not speaking for Miss Wenlan, you understand, but if she’s a little lacking in refinement, I do hope you’ll make allowances for her. After you’ve had your lunch, I’ll be your matchmaker.”

  “But I’m already engaged,” he hastily replied. “Our horoscopes have been checked, and we’re due to marry in the seventh month. The reason I’m here in Yangzhou is to buy some odds and ends for the wedding. I can’t possibly get engaged to anyone else.” The others couldn’t contain their amusement at this exchange.

  The courtesans deferred politely to each other as to who would offer a toast. Finally Cassia seized a wine jug and said, “In my own room I claim the right ahead of my sisters to drink to the whole company.” Having filled all the cups, she raised hers in the air, drained it, then waited while the others drained theirs before bringing her cup down on the table and refilling all the cups. The other women handed around plates of fruit and nuts and toasted the company in their turn. Cassia said, “And now I claim another right ahead of my sisters: let’s play guess-fingers!” They played three games, with each of them winning and losing. The losers asked the winners for an alternative penalty and ended up drinking or singing. Only Mu Zhu refused to play; he said he didn’t even know how to play the game of guessing melon seeds. When his turn came to play guess-fingers, he preferred to drink a cup of wine instead, and nobody felt like forcing him to play.

  By the time each of the women had started a game, some had had to drink wine as a penalty, others had had to sing songs. When a dish arrived, everyone ate some of it. “Guess-fingers is terribly boring,” said Wu Zhen. “Let’s have some fun and play a literary game. What do you say, gentlemen?”

  “That would be ideal,” said Jia Ming, “but it should be a game to suit all tastes. Shall we include the courtesans, or just play among ourselves?”

  “The six of us will each offer an entry. For example, when I finish mine, Miss Cassia will give us a song. When Brother Jia finishes his, we’ll ask Miss Phoenix to oblige, and so forth. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  Everyone approved of the idea except Mu Zhu, who said nothing. “What do you think, Brother Mu?” asked Wu Zhen.

  “I don’t know anything about this literary game business,” he said. “I’d rather just go ahead and have a cup of wine.”

  “Since he won’t be taking part, we should present him with a large cup,” said the others, calling for one and filling it to the brim. Without a word of protest, he took it and drained it in a single draft, drawing a chorus of admiration from the others. “What a capacity the man has!”

  Wu Zhen was then called upon to give the rules of the game. He drank the master’s cup and announced, “One nickname from Outlaws of the Marshes,1 one line from the Four Books,2 and one line from the West Chamber,3 all of which have to make sense when strung together. Anyone who can’t think of an answer, or who gives a wrong answer, will be penalized with a large cup.”

  “You lead the way.”

  “Jade unicorn / showed undue sorrow / and didn’t care that gown and sleeves were damp from wiping away tear after tear.”4

  General praise greeted the answer. Cassia followed it with a “Soft and Even Air”:

  Pairs of swallows fluttering in the eaves,

  Peach trees aflame with blossom,

  Willows a misty green.

  Before the mirror

  Once rosy cheeks are pale and drawn.

  I long for his return,

  But no word comes.

  My breast is full of springtime sorrow,

  My brows are locked in grief.

  Oh, dreary days!

  Where is he making merry?

  Oh, dreary days!

  Where is he making merry?

  When she had finished, everyone applauded, but Wu Zhen said, “We’re heartily sick of these conventional songs.5 If anyone else sings one, she’ll have to drink a large cup.”

  “Quite right, quite right,” they agreed.

  Now it was Jia Ming’s turn: “Master calligrapher / is awe-inspiring but not fierce; / with the tip of his brush he is able to sweep away five thousand.”6 After everyone had praised it, Phoenix called for a lute, adjusted the strings, and sang a “Played and Lost”:

  Because of you I’m sick with love,

  Because of you I’m sick with love.

  Aiya!

  Because of you I’m loath to dress my hair.

  Such pain!

  Because of you my dreaming soul has soared beyond,

  Beyond Mount Wu.

  Because of you my brows are dark with sorrow.

  Because of you my brows are dark with sorrow.

  Aiya!

  Because of you I’m reduced to skin and bone.

  Such grief!

  Because of you I don’t know when I’ll clear my debt,

  My debt of love.

  She finished to general applause, and someone relieved her of the lute. “Miss Phoenix is a great flatterer,” said Wu Zhen. “I don’t know who she can be so lovesick for, considering that today she’s pretending to be so fond of our brother Jia!”

  “Master Wu, you’d better not make any more of these nasty insinuations,” said Phoenix. “If I were to tell Cassia a certain something, you’d never hear the end of it.”

  “Enough of those fighting words,” said Jia Ming. “Quick, Brother Yuan. Give us your offering.”

  Yuan said, “The tattooed priest / first cultivated his person / but had no respect for ‘The Emperor’s Penitence.’”7 It was greeted with applause, after which Paria sang a “Full River Red”:

  O, my handsome one,

  I love your romantic looks,

  Your natural elegance.

  I love your nature,

  Your cleverness in all you do,

  Your gentleness of speech.

  I love the fact you’re never false,

  But absolutely true;

  We’re a perfect karmic match.

  Worthless gems are easy to find;

  Genuine ones are few.

  So hard to find a man of feeling!

  When shall I have my wish?

  There’s something dear to my heart

  That I want to ask but cannot.

  I wonder, would you say yes?

  That I want to ask but cannot.

  I wonder, would you say yes?

  After the applause had died down, Wu Zhen commented, “There’s no need to worry, Miss Paria. Our brother Yuan is more than willing to say yes, and I guarantee that tonight you’ll get your wish.”

  “As to whether she gets her wish or not, we’ll take that up later,” said Jia Ming. “But right now we have to move along. It’s Brother Lu’s turn.”

  Lu Shu said, “The rake / bored a hole in the wall to peep; / if it isn’t marriage he has in mind, what is it?”8

  After the applause, Jia Ming had a question for Fragrance: “Did you hear those words straight from our brother Lu’s heart?” She gave a faint smile and, calling to her servant to bring her a lute, adjusted the strings, and sang a “Split the Broken Jade”:

  O, my handsome one,

  You’ve forgotten when first we met.

  Then it was

  That I fell in love with you,

  And you with me.

  Our love was deep and true,

  And foolish me, I hoped that it would last forever.

  I never thought you’d cast me off along the way.

  You abandoned me, but I’ll not let you go.

  O, you lecherous rake,

  You falsehearted rogue,

  Wicked deceiver of women—

  I only hope that soon you’ll honor your vow.

  Someone relieved her of her lute, and Wu Zhen commented: “Miss Fragrance, that song of yours was really very depressing. Our brother Lu is hardly as faithless as all that. I shall have to sentence you to drink a large cup.”

  “You may criticize my song, but I can really drink only
a little. I shall have to beg for mercy.”

  “Only Brother Lu can give you that,” said the others.

  “If she sang a bad song, sentence her to sing a good one,” suggested Lu Shu.

  “Brother Lu can’t bear to make her drink,” said Jia Ming. “He’s letting her off lightly.”

  “There’s no need to carp, gentlemen,” said Fragrance. “I’ll pay for my sins by singing an Erhuang.”

  “See you choose one of the best,” said Yuan You.

  A musician was hastily summoned, and he took a seat beside Fragrance and began to play his fiddle. Fragrance picked up her lute, adjusted the strings, and sang:

  Lin Daiyu, too bored for words, depressed at heart.

  Outside she hears the wind in the bamboos—utter desolation.

  She calls her maid to open the window and tries to lift her spirits.

  When first she came into this compound, such excitement!

  With Baoyu she shared her meals and even a bed.

  He loved me, and I loved him, never apart for an instant.

  Her foolish heart genuinely hoped she’d have him with her forever.

  But by this time they’re both grown up, and boys and girls must part.

  They see each other, and nothing is said but trite, meaningless words.

  Then out of the blue along comes this relative, Auntie Xue.

  She has a daughter, Baochai by name, who seems so nice and proper,

  But she talks about the gold and jade as destined for each other,

  And foolish Baoyu, hearing this talk, gets wild ideas in his head.

  Have pity on me, all on my own, orphaned as a child.

  Without end, the pain in my breast! To whom can I bare my soul?

  All I can do is cry and cry, hiding my broken heart.

  Most hateful of all is Wang Xifeng, who has driven us lovers apart.

  As she finished, the audience applauded. Someone relieved her of the lute, and the musician left the room. Then they all began pressing Wei Bi to give his offering. “I’m not going to,” he said. “I’d rather drink a cup of wine.” Wu Zhen would not accept that and continued to press him, until finally Wei Bi said, “The heavenly king who lifts the pagoda / arises every morning at the fifth watch / and tempts Master Zhang to leap over the wall.”

  “Brother Wei, what penalty should you pay for that?” asked the others in the midst of their laughter.

  “I didn’t make any mistakes, so why should I pay any penalty at all? ‘Heavenly king’ is Chao Gai’s nickname, and you can’t tell me that ‘arises every morning at the fifth watch’ isn’t from one of the Four Books, or that the Master Zhang of ‘and tempts Master Zhang to leap over the wall’ isn’t a character from the West Chamber?”

  “Stop quibbling, Brother,” said Jia Ming. “Chao Gai is not one of the heavenly or earthly stars in Outlaws of the Marshes, but he is a character in the novel, and we could let you get away with that. But ‘arises every morning at the fifth watch’ is from the Girls’ Classic of Filial Piety,9 which was written by a later author; it’s certainly not one of the Four Books, and for that you’ll be fined a large cup. ‘And tempts Master Zhang to leap over the wall’ isn’t a line from the West Chamber but from some singer’s ‘Fresh Flowers,’10 and for that you’ll be fined another large cup.”

  “I know I ought to accept your sentence,” said Wei Bi, “but I really have a very small capacity where wine’s concerned, and I couldn’t drink both cups.”

  “Let me drink one of them for him,” volunteered Lucky.

  “You were due to sing a song, anyway,” said Wu Zhen, “and now you want to drink instead of him, too. You’ll have to give us a song first, before we can agree to that.”

  “If you wish.”

  “Let me drink a small cup,” said Wei.

  “If Brother Wei is adamant about not drinking, he should tell us a joke instead,” said Jia Ming.

  “Good idea,” said the others.

  “I don’t sing well, so you’ll have to make allowances,” said Lucky. She set up a counter and rose from her seat. With a green imported-crepe handkerchief embroidered with a multicolored image of a phoenix among peonies that was done in gold couching, she performed a “Sweet Sixteen Artfully Applying Her Makeup.”11 Following the applause she went back to the table, removed the counter, and downed a large cup of wine.

  Pressed to tell a joke, Wei Bi said, “Don’t blame me if it doesn’t make you laugh.”

  “It’s all in fun. Who’s going to criticize you? Get on with it.”

  “I’ll only make a fool of myself.”

  “We can’t wait to hear you.”

  “Two friends, both posing as men of culture, happened to meet on the road. After they had exchanged bows, one asked, ‘Have you come up with any beautiful lines of poetry recently?’ The other replied, ‘Just the other day a friend of mine asked me to write a couplet for him. His parents were both in good health, he had a wife and several concubines, and he wanted the couplet to include references to the happiness of his entire family. I took the New Year’s couplet ‘As heaven adds another twelvemonth, people get a year older / As spring fills the world, good fortune fills the household’ and changed a few characters, to read ‘As Father adds another twelvemonth, Mother gets a year older / As the wife fills the world, the concubines fill the household.’ Do you think I managed to get the happiness of the whole family in?’

  “The other man clapped his hands and roared with laughter. ‘It goes to show that all men of culture think alike,’ he said. ‘The other day my mother had her sixtieth birthday, and everything was ready except the couplet. My brother wouldn’t stoop to ask anybody to make one up, so he, too, adapted that same New Year’s couplet, to read ‘As heaven adds another twelvemonth, Mother gets a year older / As spring fills the world, Father fills the household.’”12

  The audience roared with laughter, exclaiming “‘Father fills the household’—very good!” Wei Bi drank a small cup of wine. “Brother Mu isn’t taking part,” said the others, “so we’ll offer him a large cup and then have a song from Miss Wenlan.” Confident of his own capacity for wine, Mu Zhu raised the cup in both hands and drained it in a single draft.

  “Now it’s my turn to make a fool of myself,” said Wenlan. “I don’t sing well, so I hope you’ll make allowances.”

  “There’s no need for the clichés,” said Yuan You. “Just hurry up and sing.”

  She sang a “Cutting Flowers”:

  Bored beyond words in her room,

  Listless when the craving hits,

  Truly she is buried alive.

  Innumerable yawns,

  Interminable sneezes,

  Tears that fall in a stream.

  No strength is left in her limbs;

  With an itch in her throat, a pain in her belly,

  She feels as if she were giving birth.

  She has no money for opium;

  The shops are shut, so she can’t use credit.

  Smoking dross will be the death of her!

  “But should my lover truly care,

  He’ll bring me a packet and save me,

  And I’ll close my door and spend the rest of my life with him.”

  Following the applause, Yuan You said, “Miss Wenlan, if someday you do give it up, I’ll bring you a big bowl of the stuff, so that you can shut your door and spend the rest of your life with me.”

  “Oh, you’re all talk,” she said, with a sidelong glance at him.

  “Those answers you gave were great fun,” said Paria. “I’ve thought of one, too. I don’t know if it’s acceptable or not.”

  “Let’s hear it, by all means,” said Jia Ming in a surprised tone of voice.

  “Timely rain / a sudden clap of thunder / I am both startled and in love.”13

  Jia Ming praised it repeatedly. “It’s succinct, and it makes perfect sense—extremely clever. We were so stupid we failed to see you had such a remarkable ability. We buried a true talent, as they say, and no
w we must offer you a large cup. We’ll keep you company and drink one ourselves.” He called for some large cups, picked up the jug, poured out one cup, and gave it to Paria. She stood up to receive it, then took the jug away from him and poured large cups for all of the others. They drained theirs as she drained hers, after which Wu Zhen drank another cup to start the final round. Jia Ming, Yuan You, Lu Shu, and Wei Bi each offered answers, and Phoenix, Cassia, Paria, Lucky, and Fragrance sang popular songs, while Wenlan sang “A Widow’s Five Watches Lament,”14 which was well received.

  “I’ve heard that you also have one called something like ‘An Attendant’s Five Watches Lament,’” said Yuan You to Wenlan. “It’s said to be topical and also very good. We’d like you to sing it for us.” At first, Wenlan said that she couldn’t, but Yuan You insisted. He asked Phoenix and Fragrance to accompany her on the lute and summoned one of the musicians to sit on one side and play the fiddle. He also picked up a pair of ivory chopsticks and started drumming on a five-inch porcelain plate in an attempt to get Wenlan to start.

  “I don’t sing at all well,” she said. “You will have to make allowances for me.”

  “We can’t wait to hear you,” they replied.

  At first watch, the moon outside is brilliant;

  Such a pity our fate is so wretched!

  Enduring hardship,

  We race here and there but never find a master.

  Leaving our homes, abandoning our parents;

  How I regret that long ago I never learned to reap and plow.

  North and south I go, urged on by friends,

  Money and clothes required.

  Oh, heaven!

  Modesty must be set aside as I submit my letter of introduction.

  At second watch the moon outside is bright.

  Such a pity our military skills fell short!

  In the lowest rank,

  At first we were fed on noodle water.

  I had no part in army orders, nothing to do with cavalry signals;

  I drew escort duty for soldier convicts sent to frontier camp.

  Escorting convicts, you hasten there and back;

  And if the convict gets irate, you smile and beg his pardon.