The Golden Days

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘Holy one, save me!’ he cried out again and again.

  The Taoist sighed.

  ‘No medicine will cure your sickness. However, I have a precious thing here that I can lend you which, if you will look at it every day, can be guaranteed to save your life.’

  So saying, he took from his satchel a mirror which had reflecting surfaces on both its sides. The words A MIRROR FOR THE ROMANTIC were inscribed on the back. He handed it to Jia Rui.

  ‘This object comes from the Hall of Emptiness in the Land of Illusion. It was fashioned by the fairy Disenchantment as an antidote to the ill effects of impure mental activity. It has life-giving and restorative properties and has been brought into the world for the contemplation of those intelligent and handsome young gentlemen whose hearts are too susceptible to the charms of beauty. I lend it to you on one important condition: you must only look into the back of the mirror. Never, never under any circumstances look into the front. Three days hence I shall come again to reclaim it, by which time I guarantee that your illness will have gone.’

  With that he left, at a surprising speed, ignoring the earnest entreaties of those present that he should stay longer.

  ‘This is intriguing!’ Jia Rui thought to himself when the Taoist gave him the mirror. ‘Let me try looking into it as he says,’ and holding it up to his face he looked into the back as instructed and saw a grinning skull, which he covered up hastily with a curse:

  ‘Silly old fool, to scare me like that! – But let me see what happens when I look into the other side!’

  He turned the mirror round and looked, and there inside was Xi-feng beckoning to him to enter, and his ravished soul floated into the mirror after her. There they performed the act of love together, after which she saw him out again. But when he found himself once more back in his bed he stared and cried out in horror: for the mirror, of its own accord, had turned itself round in his hand and the same grinning skull faced him that he had seen before. He could feel the sweat trickling all over his body and lower down in the bed a little pool of semen that he had just ejaculated.

  Yet still he was not satisfied, and turned the face of the mirror once more towards him. Xi-feng was there beckoning to him again and calling, and again he went in after her. He did this three or four times. But the last time, just as he was going to return from the mirror, two figures approached him holding iron chains which they fastened round him and by which they proceeded to drag him away. He cried out as they dragged him:

  ‘Wait! Let me take the mirror with me…!’

  Those were the last words he ever uttered.

  To those who stood around the bed and watched him while this was happening he appeared first to be holding up the mirror and looking into it, then to let it drop; then to open his eyes in a ghastly stare and pick it up again; then, as it once more fell from his grasp, he finally ceased to move.

  When they examined him more closely they found that his breathing had already stopped and that underneath his body there was a large, wet, icy patch of recently ejaculated semen.

  At once they lifted him from the bed and busied themselves with the laying-out, while old Dai-ru and his wife abandoned themselves to a paroxysm of grief. They cursed the Taoist for a necromancer and ordered the servants to heap up a fire and cast the mirror upon the flames. But just at that moment a voice was heard in the air saying, ‘Who told him to look in the front ? It is you who are to blame, for confusing the unreal with the real! Why then should you burn my mirror?’

  Suddenly the mirror was seen to rise up and fly out of the room, and when Dai-ru went outside to look, there was the lame Taoist asking for it back. He snatched it as it flew towards him and disappeared before Dai-ru’s very eyes.

  Seeing that there was to be no redress, Dai-ru was obliged to set about preparing for the funeral and began by announcing his grandson’s death to everybody concerned. Reading of the sutras began on the third day and on the seventh the coffin was drawn in procession to temporary lodging in the Temple of the Iron Threshold to await future reburial. The various members of the Jia family all came in due course to offer their condolences. From the Rong-guo side Jia She and Jia Zheng each gave twenty taels of silver and from the Ning-guo side Cousin Zhen also gave twenty taels. The other members of the clan gave amounts varying from one to four taels according to their means. A collection made among the parents of the dead man’s fellow-students raised an additional twenty or thirty taels. Although Dai-ru’s means were slender, with so much monetary help coming in he was able to perform the whole business in considerable style.

  Towards the end of the year in which Jia Rui’s troubles started Lin Ru-hai fell seriously ill and wrote a letter asking to see Dai-yu again. Though Grandmother Jia was plunged into deepest gloom by the letter, she was obliged to prepare with all possible expedition for her granddaughter’s departure. And Bao-yu, though he too was distressed at the prospect of Dai-yu’s leaving him, could scarcely seek to interfere in a matter affecting the natural feelings of a father and his child. Grandmother Jia insisted that Jia Lian should accompany Dai-yu and see her safely there and back. The various gifts to be taken and the journey-money were, it goes without saying, duly prepared. A suitable day on which to commence the journey was quickly determined and Jia Lian and Dai-yu took leave of all the rest and, embarking with their attendants, set sail for Yangchow.

  If you wish for further details, you may learn them in the following chapter.

  Chapter 13

  Qin-shi posthumously acquires the status

  of a Noble Dame

  And Xi-feng takes on the management

  of a neighbouring establishment

  After Jia Lian’s departure for Yangchow Xi-feng felt bored and unhappy, particularly in the evenings when, apart from chatting with Patience, there seemed little to do but sleep. On the occasion of which we write she had sat beside the lamp with Patience until late into the evening; then, the bedding having been well warmed, the two women had gone to bed, where they lay until after midnight discussing the stages of Jia Lian’s journey and attempting to calculate what point he was likely to have reached in it. By this time Patience was fast asleep and Xi-feng herself was on the point of dropping off when she became dimly aware that Qin-shi had just walked into the room from outside.

  ‘So fond of sleep, Auntie?’ said Qin-shi with a gentle smile. ‘I shall have to begin my journey today without you to see me off. But never mind! Since you cannot come to me, I have come to you instead. We two have always been so close, I could not have borne to leave you without saying good-bye. Besides, I have a last wish that you alone must hear, because I cannot trust anyone else with it.’

  ‘What is your wish?’ Xi-feng heard herself asking. ‘You can trust me to carry it out for you.’

  ‘Tell me, Auntie,’ said Qin-shi, ‘how is it that you who are such a paragon among women that even strong men find more than their match in you can yet be ignorant of the simple truths expressed in homely proverbs? Take this one:

  The full moon smaller grows,

  Full water overflows.

  Or this:

  The higher the climb, the harder the fall.

  Our house has now enjoyed nearly a century of dazzling success. Suppose one day “joy at its height engenders sorrow ”. And suppose that, in the words of another proverb, “when the tree falls, the monkeys scatter”. Will not our reputation as one of the great, cultured households of the age then turn into a hollow mockery?’

  Qin-shi’s question made Xi-feng feel uneasy, though at the same time inspiring a deep respect in her for her niece’s foresight.

  ‘You are quite right to show concern,’ she said. ‘Is there any means by which we can keep permanently out of danger ?’

  ‘Now you are being silly, Auntie !’ said Qin-shi somewhat scornfully. ‘“The extreme of adversity is the beginning of prosperity” – and the reverse of that saying is also true. Honour and disgrace follow each other in an unending cycle. No human power can arr
est that cycle and hold it permanently in one position. What you can do, however, is to plan while we are still prosperous for the kind of heritage that will stand up to the hard times when they come.

  ‘At the moment everything seems well looked after; but in fact there are still two matters that have not been properly taken care of. If you will deal with them in the way that I shall presently suggest, you will be able to face the future without fear of calamity.’

  ‘What two matters?’ Xi-feng asked her.

  ‘Though the seasonal offerings at the ancestral burial-ground are at present regularly attended to,’ said Qin-shi, ‘no special income has been set aside to pay for them. That is the first matter. The second matter concerns the clan school. There again, there is no fixed source of income. Obviously there will be no lack of funds either for the seasonal offerings or for the school as long as we enjoy our present prosperity. But where is the money for them coming from in the future, when the family has fallen on hard times ?

  ‘I am convinced that the only way of dealing with these two matters is to invest now, while we are still rich and powerful, in as much property as possible – land, farms, and houses – in the area around the burial-ground, and to pay for the seasonal offerings and the running of the school entirely out of the income from this property. Moreover the school itself ought to be situated on it. The whole clan, old and young alike, should be convened and a set of regulations drawn up whereby each family is made to administer the estate and look after the financing of the seasonal offerings and the clan school for one year in turn. By making the responsibility rotate in a fixed order you will remove the possibility of quarrels about it and also lessen the danger of the property getting mortgaged or sold.

  ‘Then even if the clan gets into trouble and its possessions are confiscated, this part of its property, as charitable estate, will escape confiscation; and when the family’s fortunes are in decline, it will be a place where the young people can go to farm and study, as well as a means of maintaining the ancestral sacrifices in unbroken succession. To refuse to take thought for the morrow on the grounds that our present prosperity is going to last for ever would be extremely short-sighted.

  ‘Quite soon a happy event is going to take place in this family, bringing it an even greater glory than it has enjoyed up to now. But it will be a glory as excessive and as transitory as a posy of fresh flowers pinned to an embroidered dress or the flare-up of spilt cooking-oil on a blazing fire. In the midst of that brief moment of happiness never forget that “even the best party must have an end”. For if you do, and if you fail to take precautions in good time, you will live to regret it bitterly when it is already too late.’

  ‘What is this happy event you speak of?’ Xi-feng asked her eagerly.

  ‘That is a secret which may not be revealed to mortal ears. However, for the sake of our brief friendship on this earth, I leave you these words as my parting gift. Be sure that you remember them well!

  When the Three Springs have gone, the flowering time will end,

  And each one for himself as best he may must fend.’

  Xi-feng was about to ask her another question when she was interrupted by the sound of the iron chime-bar which hung in the inner gate.

  Four strokes. The signal of death!

  She woke with a start to hear a servant announcing, ‘Mrs Rong of the Ning-guo mansion is dead.’ A cold sweat broke out over her body and for a while she lay too stunned to move. Then forcing herself to get up she pulled on her clothes and went round to Lady Wang’s.

  By this time the entire household had heard the news. All seemed bewildered by it and all were in one way or another deeply distressed. Those older than Qin-shi thought of how dutiful she had always been; those in her own generation thought of her warmth and friendliness; her juniors remembered how kindly and lovingly she had treated them; even the servants, irrespective of sex and age, remembering her compassion for the poor and humble and her gentle concern for the old and the very young, all wept and lamented as loud and bitterly as the rest.

  But we digress.

  During the last few days, since Dai-yu’s return to her father had deprived him of her companionship, Bao-yu, far from seeking diversion in the company of the others, had kept to himself, going to bed early every night and sleeping disconsolately on his own. The news of Qin-shi’s death came to him in the midst of his dreams, causing him to start up in bed with a jerk. A sudden stabbing pain shot through his heart. He retched involuntarily and spat out a mouthful of blood. Aroma and the maids clung to him, terrified, and asked him what was the matter. They wanted to tell Grandmother Jia and ask her to send for a doctor; but Bao-yu would not hear of it.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s of no consequence!’ he told them. ‘Something that happens when a sudden rush of fire to the heart prevents the blood from getting back into the right channels.’

  He climbed out of bed as he spoke and told them to bring him some clean clothes, so that he could see his grandmother and then go straight on to the other house. Aroma was still concerned for him, but seeing him so determined, allowed him to have his way.

  Grandmother Jia did not want him to go, either.

  ‘It won’t be clean there,’ she said, ‘with her scarcely yet cold. And besides, there’s a nasty wind at this time of night. It will be soon enough if you go there first thing tomorrow.’

  But Bao-yu would not be gainsaid, so she gave instructions for a carriage to be made ready for him and a numerous retinue of servants to attend him there.

  Arriving in haste at the entrance of the Ning-guo mansion, they found the gates flung wide open and lanterns on either side turning the night into noonday. Despite the hour, a multitude of people were hurrying through it in both directions, while from inside the house issued a sound of lamentation that seemed to shake the very buildings to their foundations.

  Alighting from his carriage, Bao-yu hurried through to the room in which Qin-shi lay and wept there for a while very bitterly. He then went to call on You-shi, whom he found ill in bed, struck down by a sudden attack of some gastric trouble from which she had occasionally suffered in the past. After leaving You-shi, he went to look for Cousin Zhen.

  By now Jia Dai-ru, Jia Dai-xiu, Jia Chi, Jia Xiao, Jia Dun, Jia She, Jia Zheng, Jia Cong, Jia Bin, Jia Heng (I), Jia Guang, Jia Chen, Jia Qiong, Jia Lin, Jia Qiang, Jia Chang, Jia Ling, Jia Yun, Jia Qin, Jia Jin, Jia Ping, Jia Zao, Jia Heng (II), Jia Fen, Jia Fang, Jia Lan, Jia Jun and Jia Zhi had all arrived, and Bao-yu found Cousin Zhen in their midst addressing them, though well-nigh choked with tears:

  ‘Everyone, young or old, kinsman or friend, knows that my daughter-in-law was ten times better than any son. Now that she has been taken from us it’s plain to see that this senior branch of the family is doomed to extinction!’ and he broke down once more into incontrollable weeping.

  The men present tried to console him:

  ‘Now that she’s gone, crying isn’t going to bring her back again. The important thing now is to make your plans for the funeral.’

  ‘Plans? What plans?’ Cousin Zhen cried, somewhat theatrically. ‘Just take everything I have – everything!’

  As he was speaking Qin Bang-ye and Qin Zhong arrived, and various members of You-shi’s family, including her two younger sisters. Cousin Zhen deputed Jia Qiong, Jia Chen, Jia Lin and Jia Qiang from among the younger men present to look after them and any other guests who might arrive.

  He also instructed someone to invite an expert from the Board of Astronomy to select dates for the funeral and the ceremonies preceding it. With the approval of this official it was decided that the lying in state should be for forty-nine days and that the notification of bereavement indicating the family’s readiness to receive official visits of condolence should be made in three days’ time. A hundred and eight Buddhist monks were engaged to perform a Grand Miseri-cordia for the salvation of all departed souls in the main reception hall of the mansion during these forty-nine days, while at the same time nin
ety-nine Taoist priests of the Quan-zhen sect were to perform ceremonies of purification and absolution at a separate altar in the Celestial Fragrance pavilion. These arrangements having been made, the body was moved to a temporary shrine in another pavilion of the All-scents Garden. Fifty high-ranking Buddhist monks and fifty high-ranking Taoist priests took turns in chanting and intoning before it on every seventh day.

  Nothing would induce old Jia Jing to return home when he learned of the death of his grandson’s wife. Immortality was within his grasp and he was not going to impair his hard-won sanctity with the taint of earthly pollution. Accordingly he left all these matters to Cousin Zhen to order as he wished.

  Free to indulge his own extravagant tastes, Cousin Zhen had inspected several sets of deal coffin-boards without finding any to his liking. Xue Pan heard of his problem when he came round to condole.

  ‘We’ve got a set in our timber-yard,’ he told Cousin Zhen. ‘It’s in a wood supposed to have come from the Iron Net Mountains. They say that a coffin made from it will last for ever without rotting. It was brought here years ago by my father. Prince Zhong-yi was going to have it, but when he came unstuck it didn’t get used. It’s still locked up in store because no one has ever been found who could afford to buy it. If you are interested, I can have it carried round for you to look at.’

  Cousin Zhen was delighted, and the timber was brought over at once for everyone to inspect. The planks for the base and sides were at least eight inches thick. The wood had a grain like areca palm and a fragrance suggestive of musk and sandalwood. When rapped with the knuckles it gave off a hard, ringing sound like jade or stone. Everyone was impressed and Cousin Zhen eagerly inquired the price. Xue Pan laughed.

  ‘I doubt you could buy a set like this for a thousand taels of silver cash down,’ he said. ‘Blow the price! Give the workmen a couple of taels for carrying it here and it’s yours.’