“This is an example of your filial feelings of gratitude for the nurture you received from her,” said the commandant. “Do you know where your former mistress’s grave is located?”
“It is located behind the Temple of Eternal Felicity outside the South Gate,” responded Ch’un-mei.
“That’s not a problem,” said the commandant. “The Temple of Eternal Felicity is my family temple. Tomorrow, when we go to visit our ancestral graves, you can have the servants carry some sacrificial offerings to present to her, and burn some paper money on your mistress’s behalf. That would be the right thing to do.”
The next day, Commandant Chou Hsiu had his servants prepare food boxes, wine and appetizers, and sacrificial offerings and set out for his ancestral graveyard outside the South Gate. His estate was replete with a mansion, halls, and gardens, as well as a chapel and a sacrificial platform. His first wife, his concubine Sun Erh-niang, and Ch’un-mei all rode in sedan chairs borne by four bearers each, and preceded by orderlies who shouted to clear the way, as they set out on their excursion to the family graveyard.
To resume our story, Wu Yüeh-niang, with her older brother Wu K’ai and his wife, enjoyed their wine for a while, after which, fearing that it was getting late, she directed Tai-an and Lai-an to collect the food boxes and the remaining wine and appetizers and precede them along the Ten-li-long Embankment to find an elevated spot before the tavern in Apricot Blossom Village,21 where they could set up a picnic table and await them, so they could enjoy:
The liveliness of the teeming crowds.
When they saw that Sister-in-law Wu did not have a sedan chair, they decided to walk and let the bearers carry their sedan chairs behind them. The group of men and women then set out on their way, tripping over the grass and enjoying the scenery, while Wu K’ai led the donkeys to bring up the rear.
After three li they walked past Peach Blossom Inn;
After five li they beheld Apricot Blossom Village.
Behold: Swarming along the roads to visit their ancestral graves:
The patrician youths and wellborn ladies,22
Amidst the red flowers and green willows,
Producing a tumultuous hubbub as they go,
Pass hither and yon in their unbroken streams.
On top of which:
The sun is warm and the breeze is gentle,23
so that those who:
Pursue fragrance and savor the landscape,
Are so multitudinous they cannot be numbered.
As they walked along, it turned out to be one of those occasions on which:
Something is destined to happen.
As they gazed into the distance, in the shade of the green locust trees, they perceived a temple of impressively fine construction. Behold:
The gate of the temple soars aloft;
The Buddhist sanctuary is secluded.
The characters on the imperial plaque
are clearly inscribed;
The bearing of the guardian deities on
either side is fierce.
The thirty-foot-wide front of the main hall,
Is roofed with serried rows of azure
dragon-scale tiles;
The monk’s quarters along the two corridors,
Are made of shiny tortoiseshell bricks
inlaid with flowers.
In the front hall are graven gods that bring,
Favorable winds and seasonable rains;24
In the rear hall stand venerated effigies of,
The Buddhas of the past and the future.25
The bell and drum towers rise close together;
The sutra storage chamber is located on high.
The flagstaff soars aloft impinging upon
the bluish clouds;
The sacred pagoda likewise encroaches on
the azure heavens.
Wooden fish are horizontally suspended;
Cloud-shaped gongs are hanging on high.
The space before the Buddha is ablaze
with lamps and candles;
Emerging from the burner the smoke of
incense swirls about.26
Pennants are arrayed in endless numbers;
The hall of the goddess Kuan-yin is next to
the chapel of the patriarchs.
Jeweled canopies are clustered together;
The effigy of Hārītī27 is situated next to
the gallery of the Arhats.
From time to time the Dharma-protecting
gods descend;
Year in and year out the demon-quelling
deities appear.28
“What is the name of this temple?” asked Wu Yüeh-niang.
“This is the family temple of His Honor Chou Hsiu,” responded Wu K’ai. “It is called the Ch’an Temple of Eternal Felicity. In former days, when my brother-in-law was still alive, he donated a considerable sum of silver for the restoration of the sanctuary, which is why it is in such good shape today.”
Yüeh-niang then turned to Sister-in-law Wu and said, “Let’s go into the temple and see what it looks like.”
Thereupon she led her group of men and women into the temple. It was not long before a young novice spotted them and reported their arrival to the abbot.
When he saw that there were a number of men and women, he came out of his quarters to welcome them, saying, “My bodhisattva and my benefactor, pray feel free to explore the premises.”
What did this abbot look like? Behold:
His bluish, finely polished, pate
is newly shaven,
And is evenly anointed with musk
and pine seed oil.
His long blazing-yellow gown is
newly tailored,
And is saturated with aloeswood
and sandalwood.
His high-ridged sandals,
Have been dyed a deep black
in Fu-chou;
His belt of silk braid,
Is of deep purple, imported
from the West.
The slippery and furtive eyes
of this monk,
Are solely devoted to ogling
alluring donors;
The sweet-sounding words of
this bald rascal,
Are merely designed to tempt
bereft young widows.
When his voluptuous feelings
are stirred,
He proceeds to seek out nuns in
their convents;
Whenever his lustful daring
is turbulent,
He entices novices into his
abbot’s quarters.
When he observes immortal ladies
he seeks to bed them;
Upon beholding the Moon Goddess
he longs to seduce her.29
When the abbot saw Wu K’ai and Wu Yüeh-niang, he came forward and saluted them by pressing his palms together in front of his chest and bowing to them in the Buddhist fashion, after which, he promptly summoned a young novice and said to him, “You open up the Buddhist sanctuary and invite our benefactor and the bodhisattva to explore the premises. Meanwhile, this humble monk will see to providing a serving of tea.”
The young novice, thereupon, opened up the sanctuary and conducted Yüeh-niang and the group of men and women accompanying her on a tour of the two corridors, front and rear. After paying their respects and looking around for a while, they returned to the abbot’s quarters, where he hastened to pour out a serving of fine tea, brewed with sweet water, and served in snow-white cups.
Wu K’ai then asked the abbot for his religious name, and the abbot responded, with an ingratiating smile, saying, “This humble monk’s religious name is Tao-chien, and this edifice is the family temple of His Honor Commandant Chou Hsiu. This humble monk serves as the abbot of the temple, and there are some hundred or more monks under my jurisdiction. The meditation hall located behind the sanctuary also houses a considerable number of itinerant monks who engage in continual meditation in order to requite
the good deeds of the benefactors from the four directions.”
He then proposed to provide a vegetarian repast in the abbot’s quarters and invited Yüeh-niang to partake thereof, saying, “Will you bodhisattvas please be seated. This humble monk is unable to provide any more than this meager collation.”
“We ought not to impose upon your sacred institution in this way,” responded Yüeh-niang.
She then took out five mace of silver and handed them to Wu K’ai so he could offer them to the abbot, saying, “This is to compensate you for burning some incense before the Buddha.”
The abbot, with an ingratiating smile, bowed in gratitude, saying, “This humble monk is not able to offer you any more than this scant refreshment. It is my hope that you benefactors and bodhisattvas will condescend to sit down for a while and partake of this meager collation, which is all that I can offer. What need is there for you to present me with a donation?”
In no time at all, a young novice set up a table and brought in a vegetarian repast and some pastries, while the abbot sat down beside them and raised his chopsticks in order to proffer Yüeh-niang and the others samples of the various dishes.
All of a sudden, they were interrupted by the appearance of two black-clad servants, panting and puffing, who broke in upon them like a clap of thunder and addressed the abbot, saying, “Abbot, why haven’t you come out to welcome her? The young mistress from the commandant’s household is on her way here to make a sacrificial offering.”
This threw the abbot into such consternation that he hastily threw on his cassock, donned his Vairocana hat, ordered a young novice to clear away the utensils, and said to his guests, “Will you bodhisattvas please retire into a side chamber for the time being. It will not be too late to sit down together again after the young lady has burned some paper money, offered her sacrifice, and gone on her way.”
Wu K’ai wanted to refuse, but the abbot insisted upon their staying, as though it were a matter of life or death, and would not let them go.
He then hastily ordered the striking up of bells and drums and went out the gate of the temple to receive his visitor, going as far as the turnoff where the entranceway to the temple met the highway to wait. What should he see then but a crowd of black-clad servants escorting a large sedan chair as it came flying toward him from the east. The chair bearers had been traveling so fast that:
Their faces were bathed in sweat,
And their clothes soaked through.
The abbot bent his body and saluted his guest in the Buddhist fashion, saying, “This humble monk did not know of your coming, young lady. I fear I have been remiss in not coming further to meet you. Pray forgive me.”
Ch’un-mei, from inside the curtain of the sedan chair, merely said, “I am imposing upon Your Reverence.”
Meanwhile, her servants had taken the offertory table to the back of the temple, where they placed it in front of Chin-lien’s grave and set out the offerings and paper money upon it. When Ch’un-mei’s sedan chair arrived, she did not go into the temple but proceeded straight to the site of Chin-lien’s grave under the white poplar tree behind the temple, where she got out of her sedan chair, and her black-clad servants lined themselves up to either side.
Ch’un-mei then:
Neither hurriedly nor hastily,
made her way in front of the grave, stuck her stick of incense in the burner, kowtowed four times, and said, “My mistress, today your servant P’ang Ch’un-mei has come to burn a packet of paper money on your behalf.
May you find a pleasurable place in Heaven;
And use the cash to cope with any problems.
If I had only anticipated that you might suffer death at the hands of your enemy, I would have found a way, somehow or other, to have you enter the commandant’s household, so that we could be together. It is I who have let you down, but my repentance is too late to be of any use.”
When she had finished speaking, she ordered her attendants to burn the paper money. Ch’un-mei then stepped forward and commenced to weep out loud. There is a song to the tune “Sheep on the Mountain Slope” that testifies to this:
As the paper money burns out,
I stamp my phoenix-toed shoes to pieces.
I call out to you, “Mother,
My liver and intestines feel ruptured.
Merely because you were so captivating,
people turned against you,
And lost no time in seeing you expelled
from the household;
Thereby opening the way for your enemy
to ensnare you.
Situated as I was in a secluded mansion,
I was not free to act;
And you had no relatives, so there was
no one to care about you.
I had hoped that we could share the same
bed and a single pillow.
Who could have known that death would
cut short your life,
And in such a pitiable fashion?”
I cry out to Azure Heaven, “How blind
can you be?”
As the sayings go, the finest objects
are difficult to preserve,
And the bolt of red silk is shorter
than it ought to be.
We will say no more, for the moment, about how Ch’un-mei made sacrifices and wept before Chin-lien’s grave.
To resume our story, Wu Yüeh-niang, in the side chamber of the monk’s quarters, knew only that a young lady from the commandant’s quarters had come, and that the abbot had gone out to receive her, though she had not been seen to come in.
She asked a young novice about this, and he explained, “An elder sister of the young lady was recently buried in a grave behind the temple. Because today is the Ch’ing-ming Festival, she has come to make a sacrifice, sweep the grave, and burn paper money on her behalf.”
“I wonder if it might not be Ch’un-mei who has come?” remarked Meng Yü-lou.
“Since when has she had any elder sister that might have been buried here?” responded Yüeh-niang.
She then asked the young novice, “What is the surname of this young lady from the commandant’s household?”
“Her maiden name is P’ang,” replied the novice. “The other day she donated four or five taels of silver to the abbot to pay for a scripture recitation on her elder sister’s behalf, in the hope that it might:
Promote her chances of rebirth in Heaven.”30
“I have heard Father mention that Ch’un-mei’s maiden name was P’ang,” remarked Meng Yü-lou, “and that she was referred to as Miss P’ang. It must surely be her.”
As they were speaking, what should they see but the abbot, who came in ahead of his guest and ordered a young novice to quickly prepare some fine tea. Before long, the sedan chair was borne past the inner gate of the abbot’s quarters, where the passenger was allowed to descend. Yüeh-niang, along with Meng Yü-lou and the others, proceeded to look out through the door-blind of the room in which they were secluded to see what the young lady looked like. When they got a closer look, they saw that it was indeed Ch’un-mei, although, compared to her former appearance, she seemed to have grown:
Larger and taller in stature.
Her face was like a full moon,
and she appeared to be:
Modeled in plaster, carved of jade.
On her headdress:
Pearls and trinkets rose in piles;
A phoenix hairpin was half askew.
She was wearing a scarlet jacket with a floriate design, over a skirt with a wide border of kingfisher blue embellished with gold thread, suspended from which decorative pendants tinkled. She was adorned quite differently from the way she had been in the past. Behold:
Her chignon is of an imposing height;
Her phoenix hairpin is half askew.
Pearl earrings hang low beneath her ears;
Golden phoenixes jut behind either temple.
Her scarlet embroidered jacket,
; Enhances her jade-white fragrant flesh;
Her kingfisher-patterned skirt,
Shows off her minuscule golden lotuses.
Whenever she moves,
It makes the jade pendants on her breast tinkle;
Wherever she sits,
The reek of orchid and musk assails the nostrils.
Her neck appears to be made of congealed powder;
Flowery ornaments artfully enhance her eyebrows.
Her visage is astonishing,
Her countenance resembles the rare beauty
of a secluded flower;
Her deportment is elegant,
Her nature appealing and agreeable as the
fragrance of orchids.
If she was not engendered in ornate quarters,
She has been raised in orchidacious chambers.
In the Temple of Eternal Felicity a Wife Meets Her Owner
She looks just like:
The alabaster goddess from the Purple Elysium
taking leave of the milky way;
An immortal of the Palace of Clustered Pearls31
descending to the mundane world.
The abbot lifted aside the portiere and invited the young lady into the parlor in his quarters. A formal seat was placed all by itself in the place of honor at the head of the room, and Ch’un-mei sat down upon it. When the abbot had finished paying his respects, a young novice came in with a serving of tea.
The abbot then offered her some tea, saying, “This humble monk was unaware that anyone was coming from the commandant’s household to visit the grave today, or that you would be arriving to present a sacrifice.
I have been remiss in welcoming you.32
Pray extend this humble monk your forgiveness.”
“The other day,” responded Ch’un-mei, “I put you to a lot of trouble reciting scriptures and praying for the salvation of the soul of the departed.”
“How could this humble monk presume to accept such praise?” the abbot blurted out. “What effort did I expend sufficient to repay my benefactress for all the money for the recitation and other acts of beneficence you lavished upon me? This humble monk merely engaged the services of eight Ch’an monks to conduct the rites, recite the scriptures, and perform a litany of repentance. At the end of the day, they also prepared several coffers of paper money and burned them on behalf of the deceased. Only after the rites had been completed did I send the three servitors from your household back inside the city to report back to you.”
The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei Page 29