The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei
Page 22
Dogs cannot be trained not to eat shit,
she’s reverted to practicing her dirty tricks again. So it was with that son-in-law of yours, was it? What’s his name?”
“His surname is Ch’en and his given name is Ching-chi,” said Tai-an.
“I remember the occasion last year,” said Dame Wang, “when I came to ask your master’s help in that affair involving the younger brother of Ho the Ninth. Your master was not at home at the time, and that lousy whore not only failed to invite me to stay for a chat in her quarters but refused to come up with so much as a broken needle for me. All she did was to tell a maidservant to pour me a cup of plain tea, after drinking which, I left. I had thought that she would remain a member of his household for:
A thousand if not ten thousand years.15
Who could have anticipated that she is now going to be sent away. What a home-breaker of a whore she is. Quite aside from the fact that it was I had who arranged her marriage into such a prestigious household; even if it had been any ordinary person, she should not have been treated so skimpily.”
“Because of the chaos she and our son-in-law have created,” said Tai-an, “the First Lady almost died of anger yesterday and has already expelled him from the household. And now, she wants you to take her away as well.”
“When she entered the household, she came in a sedan chair,” said Dame Wang. “And she should be allowed to leave in one as well. She brought a trunkful of belongings with her when she came, and she should also be allowed to take one with her now.”
“That goes without saying,” said Tai-an. “The First Lady will decide what is appropriate.”
As they engaged in this discussion, they arrived at the door of Hsi-men Ch’ing’s residence, and Dame Wang went back to Yüeh-niang’s quarters, where she bowed in greeting and sat down.
After they had finished the tea served by a maidservant, Yüeh-niang said, “Dame Wang, I would not have invited you here for no reason.”
She then proceeded to spell out, thus and so, all of the preceding events involving P’an Chin-lien and concluded by saying, “Since:
You are the one who produced this problem,
You should be the one who eliminates it.
One guest does not trouble two hosts.
I would, therefore, prevail upon you to take her away again and either marry her off to someone else, or dispose of her in a way that allows her to continue:
Eating the bread of idleness.
Now that my husband is dead, I can no longer afford to maintain such people as this. Needless to say, that dead devil of mine spent vast sums of money on her; enough to cast a silver figurine to match her dimensions. If you give me back whatever you manage to marry her off for, I can use it to hold a sutra recitation for my husband, so some good may come of it.”
“Venerable lady,” said Dame Wang, “I understand that it is not the money that you are really concerned about, but the need to rid yourself of this troublemaker. I will not let you down.”
She then went on to say, “Today is a propitious day for such an undertaking. I might as well take her away forthwith. But there is another issue. She brought a trunkful of her belongings with her and arrived in a sedan chair. She ought to be provided with a sedan chair for her departure.”
“I’ll let her take a trunk of her belongings with her,” said Yüeh-niang, “but I won’t allow her to go in a sedan chair.”
“My mistress talks that way at the height of her rage,” said Hsiao-yü. “But she will not fail to provide a sedan chair when the time comes for her to leave since:
Exposing her face to the public gaze,
would only cause our neighbors to laugh at us.”
Yüeh-niang did not say anything in response to this but sent the maidservant Hsiu-ch’un to the front compound to summon Chin-lien. When Chin-lien saw that Dame Wang was there in the room, her eyes opened wide with surprise, and she bowed in greeting before sitting down.
Dame Wang opened the conversation, saying, “You had better get your things together right away. The First Lady has instructed me just now to take you away with me today.”
“How long has it been since my husband died?” said Chin-lien. “As for me:
What fault have I committed;
What offense am I guilty of?
Why should I be driven away for no good reason?”
Yüeh-niang16 responded, “Don’t you:
Feign being more silly than you are,17
Pretending to be both dumb and deaf.18
It has always been true that:
When a snake makes a hole for itself
it knows where it is.19
Whatever a person sees fit to do,
Is clear in the mind of the doer.
Chin-lien, you had better not:
Disguise your perfidy by playing dumb,20
Showing an innocent face to both sides.21
Praising here and faultfinding there.
In my hands you can dispense with your:
Clever words and deceptive phrases,
Apple polishing and favor currying.22
It has always been true that:
There is no party that does not come to an end.
The beam that projects is the first one to rot.23
Just as a man has his reputation,
A tree has its shadow.
Flies don’t cluster on eggs
unless they’re cracked.
You had better not assume that you can continue to support yourself by committing adultery. And right now, I’m going to send you off to oblivion.”
Chin-lien responded:
“If you hit someone, avoid hitting his face,
If you berate him, don’t expose his faults.24
As the sayings go:
If one cock dies, another will crow in its stead.
He who works a sieve will have some grain to eat.25
Who can ever defend his head with an iron helmet?
Who can ever shield his eyes with bamboo matting?
Human beings are likely to meet each other again,
Just as fallen tree leaves return to their roots.
You ought not to:
Drive people out with bare hands and naked fists.26
In arguing don’t heed the words of petty persons.
Truly:
A decent woman does not wear
her bridal clothes;
A decent man does not consume
his inheritance.
It is useless to complain that
the weather is cold.”
There and then, after Chin-lien and Yüeh-niang had wrangled for a while, Yüeh-niang accompanied her to her quarters and agreed to let her take with her two trunks worth of belongings, a table with drawers in it, four outfits of clothing, a number of clasps, combs, hairpins, and rings, and a set of bedding. She also stuffed the shoes and foot-bindings she was accustomed to wear into one of the trunks. She then ordered Ch’iu-chü to move back into the rear compound and put a lock on the door to Chin-lien’s quarters.
Chin-lien proceeded to don her outer garments, bade farewell to Yüeh-niang, and wept profusely in front of Hsi-men Ch’ing’s spirit tablet. She also paid a visit to Meng Yü-lou’s quarters. The two of them had been like sisters to each other, but now:
One fine day they were fated to part,27
and they could not help shedding tears together.
Meng Yü-lou also gave her a pair of gold hairpins with bowl-shaped ends, a jacket of kingfisher-blue satin, and a red skirt, without Yüeh-niang’s knowledge, saying, “Sister Six, from now on, you and I must:
Spend more time apart than together.
I hope you can find a good home, and go on to enjoy a good life. It has always been true that:
Though you erect a thousand li marquee,
There is no party that does not come to an end.
If you find a home, send someone to tell me, so when I go out I may be able to come see you, and thus fulfill our siste
rly feelings.”
Thereupon, they bade each other farewell with tears in their eyes.
As Chin-lien was about to go out the gate, Hsiao-yü escorted her and surreptitiously presented her with two gold-headed pins.
“Sister,” Chin-lien responded, “it would seem you actually have some human feelings for me.”
By the time Chin-lien got into the sedan chair at the gate, Dame Wang had already hired workers to carry off her trunks and the table that Yüeh-niang had allowed her to take. Only Meng Yü-lou and Hsiao-yü saw Chin-lien off in her sedan chair, after which they went back inside. Truly:
Of the ten thousand things that create
grief in this human world;
Nothing exceeds the severance of death
and separation of the living.
To resume our story, when Chin-lien arrived at Dame Wang’s home, Dame Wang put her into her inner chamber, where she slept together with her at night. Dame Wang’s son, Wang Ch’ao, had grown up to be a tall young man and had started to wear his hair in a bun, although he had not yet taken a wife. A bed had been provided in the outer room for him to sleep on.
The next day, P’an Chin-lien made herself up as usual with:
Exaggeratedly painted eyebrows and eyes,
and stood behind the hanging door-blind gawking at the passersby. When she had nothing else to do, she sat on the k’ang, either:
Painting her brows and making up her eyes,
Or idly strumming her p’i-p’a.
When Dame Wang was not at home, she spent her time playing at cards or board games with Wang Ch’ao. Dame Wang, for her part, went about her business as usual, sweeping up the flour from the mill, or feeding the donkeys, without paying any attention to them. It was not long before, as:
The mornings and evenings came and went,28
she succeeded in seducing Wang Ch’ao. At night, after waiting till Dame Wang had fallen asleep, the woman would get off the k’ang, on the pretext of needing to urinate, go into the outer room, and get into bed with Wang Ch’ao.
As the two of them went at it together one night, they shook the bed until the creaking became audible enough to wake up Dame Wang, who asked, “Where is that noise coming from?”
“It’s only the cat chasing a rat under the counter,” replied Wang Ch’ao.
In her half dreaming state, Dame Wang muttered, “It must be because there is some bran and flour lying about the room that this annoying creature is keeping us awake during:
The third watch in the middle of the night.”
Later, on hearing the sounds of movement as the bed continued to creak, Dame Wang asked again, “Where is that noise coming from?”
Wang Ch’ao replied, “The cat has caught the rat and is making a noise as he chews at it in the hole under the k’ang.”
Dame Wang bent her ear to listen and, sure enough, it sounded like a cat worrying its prey in the hole under the k’ang. Only then did she cease asking about it. As soon as the woman and the young scamp had finished their business, she quietly climbed back onto the k’ang and went to sleep as before.
There are several lines of double entendre that describe this rat very well:
Your body is small, but your daring
is great;
Your muzzle is pointed, and prone to
mischief.
On seeing anyone, you hide yourself
away;
But the squeaks you create can still
be heard.
You disturb one’s sleep in the middle
of the night.
Unwilling to follow the rules of good
behavior;
You are given to boring your way into
cracks.
And there is another symptom of your
knavery;
You can never abandon your taste for
stolen sweets.
One day, Ch’en Ching-chi, upon learning that Chin-lien had been expelled from the household and was temporarily lodged in Dame Wang’s home while being offered in marriage, took two strings of copper cash, along with some silver, and made his way to Dame Wang’s home. When he arrived there, Dame Wang was engaged in sweeping up the donkey droppings in front of her door.
P’an Chin-lien Agrees to Relieve Wang Ch’ao’s Thirst
Ch’en Ching-chi stepped forward and greeted her with a deep bow, upon which Dame Wang inquired, “Brother, what do you want?”
“Would you please allow me to speak to you inside?” said Ch’en Ching-chi.
Dame Wang, accordingly, ushered him inside, whereupon Ch’en Ching-chi took off his eye shades and asked, “Is not the woman named P’an the Sixth from the household of His Honor Hsi-men Ch’ing lodging here while being offered in marriage?”
“What is your relationship to her?” asked Dame Wang.
Ch’en Ching-chi replied with an ingratiating smile, “I would not deceive you ma’am. I am her younger brother, and she is my elder sister.”
Dame Wang appraised him by:
Looking him over from top to bottom,29
for a while and then said, “Since when does she have any younger brother? I know nothing of such a one. Don’t try to deceive me. I imagine you must be the son-in-law of the household, surnamed Ch’en, who has come here in the hope of pulling the wool over my eyes; but I won’t let you get away with it.”
Ch’en Ching-chi laughed at this and then pulled the two strings of copper cash out from his waist and laid them before her, saying, “These two strings of cash can serve you temporarily to defray the cost of a cup of tea. If you will only consent to let me see her, I will reward you more generously on another day.”
When Dame Wang saw the money, she reacted more meretriciously than ever, saying, “Don’t talk about rewarding me. The First Lady of the household ordered me not to let any riffraff look her over. But I’ll demean myself so far as to make you a proposition. If you want to have a single interview with this woman, give me five taels of silver. If you want to see her a second time, give me ten taels of silver. If you decide to marry her, it will cost you a hundred taels of silver, in addition to which there will be a go-between’s fee of ten taels of silver. I don’t go in for idle negotiations. What’s the point of offering me these two strings of cash that are:
Hardly enough to discolor the water?”
When Ch’en Ching-chi realized that the procuress was adamant in refusing the little he had offered, he plucked a pair of gold-headed, silver-shafted, pins out of his hair that were worth five mace of silver, knelt down on the ground:
Dragging his legs like a chicken
on the chopping block,
and said, “Dame Wang, pray accept what I am offering. I will bring you another tael of silver another day, without fail. Let me meet with her, and allow us to exchange a few words, that’s all.”
Dame Wang, thereupon, after accepting his hairpins and silver, said, “You go inside and see her, say what you have to say, and then come out again. I won’t allow you to just sit there:
Ogling her with your hungry eyes.
And you must be sure to bring me the extra tael of silver you have promised tomorrow.”
Thereupon, she lifted aside the portiere and let Ch’en Ching-chi into the inner room, where the woman was sitting on the k’ang engaged in stitching a shoe.
When she saw Ch’en Ching-chi, she put down the shoe vamp she was working on and complained to him, saying, “A fine man you are! Leaving me betwixt and between:
Unable to reach the village ahead,
Or make it back to the inn behind.
You may have what it takes to get started,
but you don’t carry through.
You put me in a predicament in which:
The exposure of misbehavior arouses disapproval,
while you disappeared without leaving a shadow behind and didn’t even come back to see how I was doing. Ch’un-mei and I have been forcibly separated:
You to the east and I to the west.30
&nbs
p; And whose fault was that?”
As she spoke, she clutched at Ch’en Ching-chi and began to weep bitterly. Dame Wang objected to her weeping, fearing that it would be overheard.
“My sister,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “on your account, I have been:
Skinned alive and cut to the quick;
while, on my account, you have:
Endured anger and suffered disgrace.
It is not that I have refused to come see you. Yesterday, I went to Auntie Hsüeh’s place, where I learned that Ch’un-mei has already been sold to the household of Commandant Chou Hsiu. I also learned that you had been expelled from the household and were staying at Dame Wang’s place, waiting to be married off. Today, I made a point of coming to see you in order to discuss matters together.
Our feelings are hard to disregard;31
We can never agree to be separated.
So what are we to do about it? At present, I have made up my mind to divorce my wife, the daughter of that household, and demand that the trunks of gold and silver that my family entrusted to them in the past be returned to me. If they refuse to do so, I will go to the Eastern Capital and submit a memorial, together with a legal complaint, to the Emperor inside the Myriad Years Gate. If they propose to return them to me after that, it will be too late. I can then, surreptitiously, using:
An assumed name and appropriated identity,
pop you into a sedan chair and take you into my household, so that:
We can remain forever reunited,
as husband and wife. There is nothing unfeasible about such a scheme.”
“Right now,” said the woman, “my godmother Dame Wang is asking a hundred taels of silver for me. Do you have such a sum of silver to give her?”
“Why is she demanding so much?” asked Ch’en Ching-chi.
“Your mother-in-law,” said Dame Wang, “says that your father-in-law, in the past, expended more than enough money on her to cast a silver figurine to match her dimensions. She insists upon the price of a hundred taels of silver. Not a bit less will do.”
“I will not deceive you,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “but the warm feelings between myself and Sister Six are such that:
We can never agree to be separated.
Will you not consent to lower the price by half, to something like fifty or sixty taels of silver? I can go to my maternal uncle Chang Kuan’s place and rent two or three rooms from him, so I would have a home into which to take Sister Six as my wife.