Not straying by so much as an inch from her side.18
Whatever she asks for, she receives tenfold;
She is free to eat anything that she chooses,
And dress in whatever outfits she may prefer.19
At present, she has also learned how to write characters and do arithmetic, demonstrating that:
Good fortune serves to stimulate the intelligence.
She has grown up to be:
Large and tall in stature,20
With an alluring demeanor.
When she came out to see me the other day, she was adorned as resplendently as:
A tree of jade in a forest of alabaster.
She is as clever as can be and insisted on addressing me as Uncle Pao. Now that these two household musicians of ours are there, they will be dependent on her for their needles and thread.”
When he had finished speaking, Yüeh-niang felt as though:
Her gratitude knew no bounds,
and provided wine and delicacies for his consumption. She also offered him some silver, but he refused it as before, and she ended up rewarding him with a bolt of satin fabric for his wife, Hui-hsiang, to make a dress out of. But no more of this.
One day, Lai-pao, together with his wife’s younger brother, Liu Ts’ang, went to the dock at Lin-ch’ing and sold off the piece goods that he had stored there in the inn for the sum of eight hundred taels of silver. With these proceeds he secretly bought a house for himself, some distance from the Hsi-men home, to the right side of Liu Ts’ang’s residence, where he opened a general store and also used the premises to convene conclaves and tea gatherings every day. His wife Hui-hsiang, whenever she felt so inclined, took to asking Yüeh-niang for time off in order to visit her mother’s family and would then go to their new house, where she would change her head ornaments and clothing, put on a pearl headband, and thus:
Studded with gold and decked with silver,
proceed to the home of Wang Liu-erh’s sister-in-law, Sow Wang, to discuss the marriage alliance between the children in their families and exchange favors. After going to see Sow Wang’s daughter, she would ride back to their new home in a sedan chair, change back into her everyday clothes, and return to the Hsi-men residence, without Yüeh-niang’s knowing anything about it.
The rascal Lai-pao would often get himself drunk and then go right into Yüeh-niang’s room, where he would engage her in:
Suggestive and flirtatious conversation.
This happened at least two or three times. If Yüeh-niang had not been the virtuous and honorable person that she was, she might well have succumbed to temptation and allowed herself to be seduced by his overtures.
Some of the household servants and gardeners also mentioned in Yüeh-niang’s presence the fact that Lai-pao’s wife, Hui-hsiang, had been seen to venture abroad in order to arrange the betrothal of her son, Seng-pao, to Sow Wang’s daughter, Wang Liu-erh’s niece, and had been:
Studded with gold and decked with silver,
While attended by three or five servants,
for the occasion. P’an Chin-lien also reported this to Yüeh-niang a number of times, but Yüeh-niang did not believe it. When Hui-hsiang heard about this, she proceeded to kick up a storm in the kitchen:
Cursing the high and the low alike.
Lai-pao, thereupon:
Puffing himself up and playing the fool,
resorted to boasting about himself to the other servants, saying, “The rest of you can stay at home and engage in your bedtime gossip if you like. But it was I who took the trouble to brave the waters and bring all this silver and merchandise safely home. Had it not been for me, Han Tao-kuo, that:
Old ox with his rapacious snout,
would have made off to the Eastern Capital with the whole bundle.
With no more than a squeak,
it might well have:
Sunk softly into the water.
But so far, I have not received so much as a word of gratitude and have even been falsely accused of purloining the master’s money. Truly:
He who donates his flesh is not acknowledged,
He who furnishes incense is not acknowledged.
It has always been the case that:
To defer when you differ,
Is to give up the dipper.”
His wife, Hui-hsiang, continued the diatribe, saying, “That lousy backbiting whore! She may claim that the two of us have purloined a large sum of money, and that I’ve been running around:
While attended by three or five servants,
attempting to arrange the betrothal of our son. The fact is that I merely went out to borrow some clothes and a few hair ornaments from my elder sister, but she alleges that I used money purloined from the master to buy them. She’s just trying to get rid of the two of us, but it doesn’t matter. Even if we are forced to leave:
Heaven will hardly prohibit a starving
crow from eating grass.
I’m going to rinse my eyes, the better to keep track of the lot of you whorish slaves, incarcerated as you are in the Hsi-men Ch’ing household.”
When Yüeh-niang saw the way in which she was:
Cursing the high and the low alike,
seeking pretexts for quarreling with people, and threatening to hang herself, as well as the way in which her husband had, at least two or three times, approached her indecorously when no one else was about, she became so angry she scarcely knew what to do with herself and felt compelled to expel the two of them from the household. Consequently, Lai-pao, as cool as you please, proceeded to open up a piece goods store together with his brother-in-law and offer a variety of fine fabrics for sale, convening conclaves and forging connections on a daily basis. But no more of this. Truly:
When prestige is lost, slaves abuse their master,
When the times are bad, ghosts manipulate people.21
There is a poem that testifies to this:
I would implore the people of this world,22
Never to conduct yourselves dishonorably.
To act dishonorably is to deceive Heaven,
Don’t assume that Heaven will not see it.23
Heaven is situated right above your head,
It sees precisely and cannot be deceived.
If you want to know the outcome of these events,
Pray consult the story related in the following chapter.
Chapter 82
P’AN CHIN-LIEN MAKES AN ASSIGNATION ON A MOONLIT NIGHT;
CH’EN CHING-CHI ENJOYS TWO BEAUTIES IN A PAINTED BOWER
To the tune “Partridge Sky”
She remembers that time in the studio
when they had just met;
The clouds and rain they enjoyed together
were known to only a few.
When evening came, the phoenix and his mate
alighted on adjacent pillows;
Left untrimmed, the silver lamp
shed only a half light.
Thinking of the past,
Her fragrant soul deluded;
Tonight she is all too happy to enjoy
the pleasures of connubial bliss.
Tumbled and tossed like male and female phoenixes,
their pleasure knows no bounds.
From this time on, surely, the pair of them
will never be separated.1
THE STORY GOES that ever since P’an Chin-lien and Ch’en Ching-chi had made out in his antechamber while Hsi-men Ch’ing was lying in state nearby, the two of them, on a daily basis, still savoring the sweet taste of their encounter:
Felt the chill of love by day,
And the heat of ardor at dusk.
Either:
Leaning on shoulders and engaging in badinage,
or:
Sitting together and delighting in flirtation,
they pestered each other incessantly and carried on without any restraint whatever. If there were other people about so they could not communicate verbally, they would write their thoughts o
n strips of paper and drop them on the floor for each other to pick up.
When you have a message, transmit it to me;
If I have a message, I’ll impart it to you.
One day, during the fourth month, P’an Chin-lien took out a handkerchief shot with silver thread that she customarily held in her sleeve and wrapped it around a jade-colored gauze drawn-work sachet in which she had placed benzoin, lysimachia, rose petals, and a lock of her hair, as well as some pine and cypress cones, and on the two sides of which she had stitched an inscription of eight characters that read:
The pine and the cypress are evergreen,2
Her human countenance is like a flower.
When she had finished preparing this keepsake, she intended to give it to Ch’en Ching-chi, but he did not happen to be in the anteroom where he lived just then, so she dropped it inside through the window. Later on, when Ch’en Ching-chi opened the door and went in, he saw the bulging sealed packet and opened it to find the handkerchief and the sachet, as well as a piece of paper on which there was inscribed a lyric to the tune “Mistletoe,” which read as follows:
I’m making you a gift of this silver-threaded
handkerchief and this sachet.
In so doing, I have also cut off a lock of
my black tresses for you.
I hope you will carry these pine and cypress
cones with you at all times.
As my tears drip, I am putting in writing
my loving thoughts for you.
Late this evening, when the lantern light shines
on my lonely shadow,
Don’t let me down as I wait for you under the
rose-leaved raspberry trellis.
When Ch’en Ching-chi saw that the lyric was proposing a secret assignation under the rose-leaved raspberry trellis, he immediately sealed up a gold-flecked fan of speckled bamboo,3 on which he had also written a lyric in reply to hers, tucked it into his sleeve, and headed into the garden. Who could have anticipated that Yüeh-niang happened to be visiting in Chin-lien’s quarters at the time.
No sooner did Ch’en Ching-chi, who was quite unaware of the situation, enter the postern gate than he called out, “Is my beloved at home, or not?”
Chin-lien recognized the sound of his voice and, fearing lest Yüeh-niang might also have heard it, and the cat be let out of the bag, hastily strode out, lifting the portiere aside, and seeing that it was he, waved him away with her hand, saying, “I wondered who it was, and it turns out to be our son-in-law, looking for his wife, Hsi-men Ta-chieh. She was here a little while ago, but she has gone into the garden with the others to pick flowers.”
When Ch’en Ching-chi realized that Yüeh-niang was there, he surreptitiously handed his package to her to put in her sleeve and went away.
Yüeh-niang asked, “What did our son-in-law come here for?”
To which Chin-lien replied, “He came looking for his wife, and I told him that she had gone into the garden.”
She thereby managed to pull the wool over Yüeh-niang’s eyes. Not long after this, Yüeh-niang got up and went back to the rear compound.
When Chin-lien pulled the package out of her sleeve and opened it, she saw that it contained a fan made of speckled bamboo and white gauze, on which was depicted a scene of green cattails beside a flowing stream, and that it was inscribed with a lyric to the tune “The Water Nymphs” that read as follows:
The speckled bamboo and white gauze create
a free and easy feeling;
The green cattails are skillfully depicted.
The gold sequins and silver threads
are truly enchanting,
Making it fit only for an enchanting person.
To fend off the heat of summer it will
create a gentle breeze;
But when people are about, it should ever
be kept in your sleeve.
When no one else is there, you can idly
wave it to and fro;
But don’t ever let it fall into the hands
of any vulgar person.
Once the woman had perused this lyric, that evening, when the moon began to rise, she provided wine for her maidservants Ch’un-mei and Ch’iu-chü to drink and shut them into the side room with the k’ang to spend the night. She then saw to it that in her own room:
The green gauze window was half open,
While crimson candles blazed on high.
After preparing the bedding and pillows, she proceeded to:
Light incense and wash her private parts,
after which, she went outside to stand by herself under the banksia rose arbor and wait for Ch’en Ching-chi to appear for their evening assignation.
To resume our story, that night Yüeh-niang had invited Hsi-men Ta-chieh to go back to the rear compound in order to listen to Nun Wang recite a precious scroll, so the only other person in the room was the maidservant Yüan-hsiao.
Ch’en Ching-chi confidentially offered her a handkerchief and enjoined her to look after the place, saying, “I am going to the quarters of the Fifth Lady, who has asked me to play a board game with her. If your mistress should come in while I am gone, come and get me immediately.”
Yüan-hsiao assented to this, thus enabling Ch’en Ching-chi to venture into the garden, where:
The moonglow was filtered by the flowers,4
Producing contrasting lights and shadows.
When he arrived under the rose-leaved raspberry trellis, gazing into the distance, he caught sight of the woman, who had:
Removed her headdress, and
Half-coiled her raven locks.
Above, she wore a blouse of pale lavender silk; below, she wore a skirt decorated with turquoise figures; and her feet were adorned with wave-tripping silk stockings, as she approached him from under the banksia rose arbor. Ch’en Ching-chi suddenly jumped out from his position under the rose-leaved raspberry trellis and embraced the woman with both arms, which gave her quite a start.
“Phooey!” the woman exclaimed. “You little short-life! You gave me quite a start by suddenly jumping out that way. Luckily, it may be all right for you to embrace me; but would you have the nerve to embrace anyone else that way?”
Ch’en Ching-chi, who was half inebriated, laughed and said, “Of course, I knew it was you. But even if I had embraced Hung-niang by mistake,5 what difference would it make?”
The two of them, thereupon:
Hugging and embracing each other,
held hands as they went into her room, which was ablaze with lamps and candles and contained a table laden with wine and appetizers. After seeing that the postern gate was securely locked, they:
Sat down shoulder to shoulder,
and fell to drinking together.
The woman then asked, “When you came out, did Hsi-men Ta-chieh know anything about it?”
“She is back in the rear compound listening to the recitation of a precious scroll,” explained Ch’en Ching-chi. “I arranged for Yüan-hsiao to come get me if anything should come up, and I told her I would be here playing a board game with you.”
The two of them indulged in amusing themselves and drinking together for some time. As the saying goes:
Romantic affairs are consummated over tea, and
Wine is the go-between of lust.
Before they knew it, they:
Felt the effects of the Bamboo Leaf wine, and
Peach blossoms bloomed upon their cheeks.
As one set about kissing with his lips,
The other rubbed her cheek against his.
After snuffing out the lamps, they:
Got into bed and engaged with each other.
The woman embraced Ch’en Ching-chi, and Ch’en Ching-chi fondled the woman, upon which she sang a song to the tune “The Sixth Lady from West of the River”:
Upon coming in the door, he begins to
cuddle me on his lap,
And I respond by turning down
the brocaded coverl
et.
My handsome lover makes love to me
in the strangest ways.
Ch’a!
He lifts my legs on high,
Legs on high.
And knocks the fret over my raven locks
completely awry.6
Ch’en Ching-chi responded by singing a song to the same tune:
The two of us feel an affinity that
binds us together.
Don’t abandon me so that I will have
to sleep by myself.
We have sworn a thousand times to be as
faithful as the hills and seas.
Ch’a!
If we are inconstant, Heaven will observe it,
Heaven will observe it.
You’re in the springtime of your life,
and I’m a youth.7
The two of them had barely finished their game of clouds and rain when they heard Yüan-hsiao calling to them from outside the gate, “Hsi-men Ta-chieh has come back to her quarters.”
This threw Ch’en Ching-chi into such consternation that he hastily pulled on his clothes and went out the door. Truly:
Though distracted bees and wanton butterflies
are sometimes to be seen;
Once they fly into the pear blossoms
they disappear from view.
It so happens that of the three rooms on the upper floor of Chin-lien’s quarters, the middle room was dedicated to the worship of Buddhist images, while the rooms to either side were used for the storage of pharmaceutical supplies and spices. From this time on, the two of them were inseparable.
Passion pervaded their breasts;
Their mutual love was like glue.
Not a day passed without their getting together.
One day turned out to be one of those occasions on which:
Something was destined to happen.
That morning, P’an Chin-lien, after performing her toilet and getting dressed, went upstairs to burn incense before the image of the Bodhisattva Kuan-yin. Unexpectedly, Ch’en Ching-chi happened to come upstairs at the same time, with keys in hand, to open the storerooms and get some pharmaceutical supplies and spices. When the two of them ran into each other, the woman desisted from the burning of incense, and, seeing that there was no one else about, the two of them embraced and fell to kissing and sucking each other’s tongues.
One of them said, “You’re my darling, Fifth Lady.”
The other exclaimed, “You’re the love of my life.”
The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei Page 11