The Golden Days

by Cao Xueqin

  ‘Not everyone is as crooked as you are!’ said Xi-feng good-humouredly.

  ‘How is it that there is no one from our place coming in for tallies?’ Bao-yu asked.

  ‘At the time when they come,’ Xi-feng replied, ‘you are still fast asleep in bed. Now let me ask you something. When are you going to begin studying at night ?’

  ‘I should like nothing better than to begin today,’ said Bao-yu. ‘But what can I do if they won’t get on with my study?’

  ‘If you were to ask me nicely,’ said Xi-feng jovially, ‘I think I could undertake to hurry them up for you.’

  ‘Oh, you’re no good,’ said Bao-yu, ‘no more than any of the rest. They’ll get round to it in time. It’s just a question of waiting till they do.’

  ‘Whether they get round to it or not,’ said Xi-feng, ‘they still need materials for the job, and they can’t get the materials if I don’t choose to give them the tallies – I can tell you that for sure!’

  As soon as he heard this, Bao-yu twined himself round Xi-feng and began coaxing and wheedling her to give the workmen the tallies that would enable them to begin work on his study.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ cried Xi-feng. ‘I am so tired that my bones ache. How can I stand up to being mauled about by a great-ape like you? You needn’t worry. They’ve just been round to see about paper for the windows. It would look pretty stupid if you were to send them off for something they have already got.’

  Bao-yu refused to believe her until she made Sunshine look up the entry in his book and show it to him.

  While Bao-yu was inspecting the book, a servant announced the arrival of Shiner, one of the boys who had accompanied Jia Lian to Yangchow. Xi-feng eagerly ordered him in. Shiner louted to his mistress in the Manchu fashion and hoped that she was well.

  ‘Why have you come back?’ said Xi-feng.

  ‘The Master sent me, ma’am. Mr Lin died on the third at ten in the morning and the Master and Miss Lin are taking him to Soochow to be buried. They expect to be home by the end of the spring. The Master told me to bring back the news and to give everyone his regards, and he said I was to ask Her Old Ladyship for instructions. He also told me to see if you were getting on all right, ma’am; and he said would I take some fur-lined gowns back with me for winter wear.’

  ‘Have you seen anyone else yet?’ Xi-feng asked him.

  ‘Yes, everyone,’ said Shiner, and withdrew.

  Xi-feng turned to Bao-yu with a smile:

  ‘It looks now as if your Cousin Lin will be staying with us permanently.’

  ‘Poor thing!’ said Bao-yu. ‘How she must have cried and cried during this past week or so!’ The thought of her crying made him knit his brows and sigh.

  Now that Shiner was back, Xi-feng was all agog to question him about Jia Lian but could not do so in any detail in front of the others. She would have liked to follow him back home, but her duties were by no means over, and she was obliged to hold out until evening. Then, back in her own apartment, she summoned him to her and asked him for full particulars of the journey. She looked out all Jia Lian’s furs, and she and Patience sat up into the night getting them ready and packing them -together with anything else which careful thought suggested might be needed – for Shiner to take back with him to his Master. Xi-feng gave Shiner minute instructions concerning his conduct towards the latter:

  ‘Mind you look after your master properly away from home, now. Try not to make him angry. And do always be on at him not to drink too much. And don’t encourage him to get mixed up with bad women. If, when you get back, I find out that you have done, I’ll break your legs!’

  Shiner laughingly agreed to abide by all her instructions. By the time they got to bed it was well past one in the morning. To Xi-feng it seemed as though she had barely lain down to sleep when it was dawn once more and time to get up again and wash and dress for another round of duties at Ning-guo House.

  The day of the funeral was now approaching and Cousin Zhen took an expert in geomancy with him in his carriage and drove out to the Temple of the Iron Threshold to inspect the terrain and personally assist in the selection of a suitable resting-place for Qin-shi’s coffin. He gave detailed instructions to the monk-in-charge, Father Sublimitas, for the provision of a completely new set of hangings and altar furnishings for the funeral, and for the engagement of as many fashionable monks as he could think of to participate in the ceremony of receiving the coffin.

  Sublimitas hurriedly prepared a vegetarian supper for his visitors; but Cousin Zhen had little heart for eating, and, as it was by now too late to return to the city, presently retired to a bed that had been made up for him in the monk’s quarters, leaving first thing next morning in order to press on with arrangements for the funeral. On his return he sent some workmen out to the temple to refurbish the place he had chosen for the coffin. They were instructed to work on the job throughout the night in order to make sure that it was finished in time. He also sent out a number of kitchen staff to cater for the funeral party on its arrival.

  Xi-feng, too, began to make her own careful preparations as the day of the funeral drew near. On the one hand she had to select coachmen and bearers from the Rong-guo staff for the carriages and sedans that Lady Wang and the other Rong-guo ladies would ride in in the procession. On the other hand, as she fully intended to take part in it herself, she had to find herself somewhere to stop at on the way as well as accommodation for the night after the funeral.

  The Dowager-duchess of Shan-guo happened to die just about this time and Xi-feng had to make the arrangements for Lady Xing and Lady Wang when they paid their visits of condolence and later when they attended the funeral. She had to see about birthday presents for the Princess of Xi-an. She had to write to her parents and get things ready to send to them when her elder brother Wang Ren returned with his wife and children to the South. And when on top of all this Jia Lian’s young sister Ying-chun fell ill and needed doctors’ visits and medicines every day, it was Xi-feng who had to puzzle over the diagnostic reports, discuss the patient’s symptoms with the learned physicians, and decide on the relative merits of rival prescriptions.

  Indeed, so multifarious had her activities become that it would be impossible to list them all. As a consequence she was far too busy to pay much attention to eating and drinking and could hardly sit or lie down for a moment in peace. When she went to the Ning-guo mansion she was followed around all the time by people from the Rong-guo mansion, and when she went back to Rong-guo House, members of the Ning-guo establishment would trail after her. Yet although she was so busy, a passion to succeed and a dread of being criticized enabled her to summon up reserves of energy, and she managed to plan everything with such exemplary thoroughness that every member of the clan was loud in her praises.

  Wake night arrived – the night when no one in the family may go to bed – and Ning-guo House was crowded with friends and relations. Since You-shi was still confined to her room, it was left entirely to Xi-feng to do the honours. There were, to be sure, a number of other young married women in the clan, but all were either tongue-tied or giddy, or they were so petrified by bashfulness or timidity that the presence of strangers or persons of higher rank threw them into a state of panic. Xi-feng’s vivacious charm and social assurance stood out in striking contrast – ‘a touch of scarlet in a field of green’. She was in her element, and if she took any notice at all of her humbler sisters it was only to throw out an occasional order or to bend them in some other way to her imperious will.

  Throughout the whole of that night the Ning-guo mansion was ablaze with lights. There was a constant bustle of guests being welcomed or seen off the premises and all the liveliness and excitement that is customary on occasions of this sort.

  With the dawning of the day and the arrival of the hour deemed auspicious for its departure, sixty-four green-coated bearers arrived for the coffin, preceded by a great funeral banner bearing the following inscription:

  Mortal Remains
/>   of the

  Much Lamented

  LADY QIN-SHI

  of the

  House of Jia,

  Senior Great-great-granddaughter-in-law

  of the

  Duke of Ning-guo,

  Nobleman of the First Rank by Imperial Patent,

  and Wife of the

  Right Honourable Jia Rong,

  Honorary Captain in the Imperial Bodyguard,

  Inner Palace, Northern Capital Division.

  The costumes, insignia, and funeral trappings were all glitteringly new, having been specially made for the occasion.

  Jewel, acting in the capacity of unmarried daughter of the deceased, smashed a bowl on die floor at the foot of the coffin and as they bore it out walked in front with an impressive display of grief.

  Among the distinguished guests taking part in the procession were:

  Niu Ji-zong (earl, hereditary first rank), grandson of Niu Qing, Duke of Zhen-guo,

  Liu Fang (viscount, hereditary first rank), grandson of Liu Biao, Duke of Li-guo,

  Chen Rui-wen (Maj.-General), grandson of Chen Yi, Duke of Qi-guo,

  Ma Shang-de (Maj.-General), grandson of Ma Kui, Duke of Zhi-guo,

  Hou Xiao-kang (viscount, hereditary first rank), grandson of Hou Xiao-ming, Duke of Xiu-guo.

  The grandfathers of the above, together with the Duke of Shan-guo, whose grandson Shi Guang-zhu was in mourning for the Dowager-duchess and unable to attend, and the Dukes of Rong-guo and Ning-guo, had formed the well-known group often referred to by their contemporaries as the ‘Eight Dukes’.

  The other mourners included:

  The grandson of H.H. the Prince of Nan-an,

  The grandson of H.H. the Prince of Xi-ning,

  Shi Ding, Marquis of Zhong-jing, nephew of old Lady Jia,

  Jiang Zi-ning (baron, hereditary second rank), grandson of the Marquis of Ping-yuan,

  Xie Kun (baron, hereditary second rank, and lieutenant-colonel, Metropolitan Barracks), grandson of the Marquis of Ding-cheng,

  Qi Jian-hui (baron, hereditary second rank), grandson of the Marquis of Xiang-yang,

  Qiu Liang (Chief Commissioner of Police, Metropolitan Area), grandson of the Marquis of Jing-tian.

  Also present were the Marquis of Jin-xiang’s son Han Qi, General Feng’s son Feng Zi-ying, General Chen’s son Chen Ye-jun, General Wei’s son Wei Ruo-lan, and a large number of other young gentlemen of distinguished parentage.

  As for lady guests, there were ten or so large and thirty or forty small palanquins, which together with the palanquins and carriages of the Jia ladies brought the total number of equipages to at least a hundred and ten. These, with the innumerable bearers of insignia and other funeral trappings up at the front, formed a procession altogether more than a mile long.

  The procession had not advanced very far when it began to pass the decorated ‘funeral bowers’ and tables of offerings put up along the sides of the street by friends and well-wishers of the family. From some of them the strains of funeral music struck up as it approached.

  The first of these bowers was the Princess of Dong-ping’s, the second was the Prince of Nan-an’s, the third was the Prince of Xi-ning’s, and the fourth that of the Prince of Bei-jing.

  Of the original holders of these four titles the Prince of Bei-jing had been highest in imperial favour by virtue of his great services to the Crown. As a consequence, the title and the style of ‘prince’ had been retained by his descendants. The present holder of the title, Shui Rong, was a youth still in his teens – a young man of great personal beauty and a modest and unaffected disposition. On receiving the announcement of the premature demise of the wife of one of the Duke of Ning-guo’s descendants, Shui Rong was reminded of the friendship that had formerly existed between the Duke of Ning-guo and his own ancestor – both having fought in the same campaigns and shared hardships and triumphs together – and resolved to lay aside all considerations of rank in demonstrating his sympathy for the bereaved. Two days previously he had paid a visit of condolence and made inquiries about the funeral arrangements, and now, today, intending to make a libation to the coffin as it went by, he had had his booth constructed at the roadside and had instructed a number of his staff to wait there in readiness for his arrival.

  At four o’clock that morning the prince had had to be present at the imperial palace for the early leve’e; but, as soon as his business there was over, he changed out of court dress and into mourning and after getting into his great palanquin, was borne through the streets, preceded by gongs and umbrellas of state, to the place where his funeral bower had been erected. There his palanquin was set down and the gentlemen of his household ranged themselves on either side of it. The street was kept clear of traffic and pedestrians while he waited.

  Presently the procession came in sight, advancing from the north end of the street like a great river, the hearse itself looking like some great silver mountain that crushed the earth beneath it as it moved. In a trice the forerunners had reported back to Cousin Zhen, who at once gave orders to the insignia bearers to halt, and hurrying forward with his Uncles Jia She and Jia Zheng, saluted the prince with full court etiquette. The prince received their prostrations with a gracious smile and a slight inclination of his person inside the palanquin, and when he spoke to them it was not as a prince to a subject, but using the form of address he employed when speaking to family friends.

  ‘Your Highness, I am quite overwhelmed by the honour you do us in graciously condescending to be present at the funeral of my daughter-in-law,’ said Cousin Zhen.

  ‘My dear friend,’ said the Prince of Bei-jing, ‘your excessive modesty does us both an injustice.’

  Thereupon he turned to the chamberlain of his household and ordered him to make offerings on his behalf. Cousin Zhen and his uncles made the correct ritual responses while this official performed them, then returned to die palanquin and bowed their thanks to the prince. The prince received their thanks with a most becoming modesty and by way of conversation asked Jia Zheng a question about Bao-yu:

  ‘Which is the boy who was born with a stone in his mouth ? I have long looked forward to the pleasure of meeting him. I am sure he must be here today. Can you not bring him to see me?’

  Jia Zheng at once withdrew to fetch Bao-yu. He made him first change into court dress before leading him forward to meet the prince.

  Bao-yu had often heard about the Prince of Bei-jing. He had heard that he was very clever. He had also heard that he was as handsome as he was clever and that he was a quite jolly, unconventional sort of person who refused to let either his royal birth or the conventions of official life constrain him. He had often wanted to meet him, but had been deterred by his father’s strictness from doing so. And now here was the Prince of Bei-jing asking to see him! A feeling of pleasant anticipation filled him as he hurried forward with his father. He peeped up at the prince as they advanced and saw that he was, as report had painted him, an extremely good-looking young man.

  But if you want to know about his interview with the handsome prince, you will have to read about it in the next chapter.

  Chapter 15

  At Water-moon Priory Xi-feng finds how much profit may be

  procured by the abuse of power

  And Qin Zhong discovers the pleasures that are to

  be had under the cover of darkness

  Looking up, Bao-yu saw that Shui Rong’s princely headgear was embellished by way of mourning with white bands, a white hatpin, and filigree silver ‘wings’. As a further token of mourning his robe, though heavily bordered with a ‘tooth and wave’ design of rainbow-coloured stripes and gold-emblazoned with the royal five-clawed dragon, was of a white material. It was confined at the waist by a red leather belt, studded with green jade. The splendid costume, the luminous eyes, the finely chiselled features really did make him an arrestingly handsome young man. Bao-yu started forward impulsively to make his salutation, but the prince extended an arm from the palanquin and prev
ented him from kneeling.

  Bao-yu was wearing a little silver coronet on the top of his head and a silver headband round his brow in the form of two dragons emerging from the sea. He had on a narrow-sleeved, full-skirted robe of white material and a silver belt inlaid with pearls. After studying these and admiring the flowerlike face and coal-black eyes, the prince’s face broke into a smile.

  ‘If “Bao-yu” means “precious jade”, you are appropriately named,’ he said.’ But where is the famous stone you were born with?’

  Bao-yu hurriedly extracted the jade from inside his clothing and taking it off, handed it to the prince, who scrutinized it carefully, reciting the words of the inscription as he deciphered them.

  ‘And does it really have these powers ?’ he asked.

  ‘It is only alleged to,’ Jia Zheng put in hastily. ‘We have never put them to the test.’

  The prince pronounced the stone a great wonder and with his own hands refastened its plaited silken cord round Bao-yu’s neck. Then, taking one of Bao-yu’s hands in his own, he asked him how old he was, what books he was studying, and other such questions, to all of which Bao-yu gave prompt replies.

  Delighted that everything Bao-yu said was so clear and to the point, the prince observed to Jia Zheng that ‘the young phoenix was worthy of his sire’.

  ‘I trust I shall not offend you by saying so to your face,’ he said, ‘but I venture to prophesy that this fledgling of yours will one day “sing sweeter than the parent bird”.’

  Jia Zheng smiled politely.

  ‘My son is doubtless unworthy of the compliment Your Highness is good enough to pay him. If, thanks to your encouragement, he turns out as you say, we shall count ourselves truly fortunate.’

  ‘There is only one drawback in possessing such charm,’ said the prince. ‘I am sure it must make his grandmother dote upon him; and, unfortunately, being the object of too much affection is very bad for people of our years. It leads us to neglect our studies. This used at one time to be the case with me, and I suspect is now the case with your son. If he does find difficulty in working at home, he would be very welcome to come round to my palace. I do not pretend to be a gifted person myself, but I am fortunate in counting distinguished writers from all over the empire among my acquaintances, and my palace is a rendezvous for them when they are in the capital, so that I never want for intellectual company. By constantly mixing and conversing with such people at my palace, your son could do much to improve his education.’