The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei

by Roy, David Tod

  But the young squire refused to agree to this, saying, “I am making a point of having her do it because I don’t want to pamper that slave any further.”

  When Yü-tsan saw that the young squire wanted the water so he and his wife could:

  Bathe together in the orchid-scented bath,

  Emulate the pleasures of fish in the water, and

  Exhaust the felicities of connubial bliss,

  she was not in the best of moods.

  Carrying the bathtub into the bedroom, she plumped it down on the floor and then went back to heat a large cauldron of boiling water, while muttering to herself, “Whoever saw the likes of this wanton whore? What with her impulsive capriciousness she is always imposing on me. Though it’s only that wantonly juicy cunt of hers, she never lets three days go by without requiring water to bathe it with. When I used to sleep with the master, I would let months go by without exposing mine to so much as a drop of water and never felt that my Buddha’s eye had been contaminated; whereas this whore has imposed on me two or three times already.”

  This tirade of hers commenced while she was leaving the room, and Meng Yü-lou overheard it but did not respond. When the young squire heard it, however, he became enraged. Without finishing his bath, while still stark naked, he slipped on his sandals, picked up a stick from the head of the bed, and headed after her.

  Meng Yü-lou tried to stop him, saying, “Let her curse away. While you’re enraged this way, I fear that while your body is all hot, if you expose yourself to the breeze, you may come down with a chill. It’s hardly worth the risk.”

  The young squire would not be appeased, however, and said, “Don’t you interfere. This slave is guilty of gross impropriety.”

  So saying, he went forward, grabbed her by the hair with one hand, pulled her over onto the floor, lifted up his stick, and unleashed a series of blows that fell on her like rain. Despite the fact that Meng Yü-lou tried to restrain him from the sidelines, he delivered twenty or thirty strokes to her body, which threw the maidservant into a panic.

  Li Kung-pi in a Fit of Rage Beats Yü-tsan

  Getting to her knees, she appealed to him, saying, “Father, don’t beat me any more. I have something to say to you.”

  The young squire castigated her, saying, “You lousy slave! Go ahead and say it then.”

  There is a song to the tune “Sheep on the Mountain Slope” that testifies to this:

  Father, suppress your rage and abate

  your anger.45

  Listen attentively to what I have to

  say to you.

  Originally, you spent eight taels of silver

  as a bride-price for me;

  Acquiring me so that I could take charge

  of your household,

  And deal with its sesame oil, salt, soy

  sauce, and vinegar.

  Every serving of food or tea

  that you consumed,

  Was prepared and cleaned up by me.

  After my mistress passed away,

  You promoted me to the position

  of a stand-in for her.

  The two of us came to share the same

  coverlet and the same bed,

  And had wonderful times together.

  It was only because you put me in charge

  that I consented to do this.

  How could I know that you would deceive me,

  saying you would not remarry;

  Only to come up, today, with this nefarious

  scheme of yours,

  Obliterating our past love, as if it had

  never happened?

  I call out, “Father,

  You are too cruel at heart.

  I will no longer remain in

  your household,

  But am prepared to marry

  another husband.

  When the young squire had heard her out, he grew even angrier and gave her another few severe strokes with the stick.

  Meng Yü-lou remonstrated with him, saying, “As long as she is willing to go, there is no need for you to beat her any further. Don’t let yourself get worked up into such a state.”

  The young squire, accordingly, ordered a servant to summon the go-between Old Mother T’ao to take Yü-tsan away, sell her off, and come pay him back. But no more of this. Truly:

  When a mosquito gets slapped with a fan,

  It is for hurting people with its mouth.

  There is a poem that testifies to this:

  When most kinds of birds chirp, people

  are happy to hear them;

  But when it is crows that start to caw,

  how do people react?

  Those who see them are vexed, and those

  who hear them spit;

  Only because they are much too garrulous

  in front of them.46

  If you want to know the outcome of these events,

  Pray consult the story related in the following chapter.

  Chapter 92

  CH’EN CHING-CHI IS ENTRAPPED IN YEN-CHOU PREFECTURE;

  WU YÜEH-NIANG CREATES A STIR IN THE DISTRICT YAMEN

  As the summer fades and winter comes,1

  spring turns into autumn;2

  As the evening sun sinks in the west,3

  the rivers flow eastward.4

  Although one’s wealth and distinction

  are determined by destiny;

  When one’s luck runs out, the ensuing

  poverty has its own roots.

  If one meets with an opportunity, one

  should take advantage of it;

  When one has occasion for self-esteem

  it is time to repent.5

  The general and his fighting stallion6

  are no more to be seen;7

  The prairie grasses and wildflowers8

  veil the soil in grief.9

  THE STORY GOES that on that day, after the young squire Li Kung-pi had given Yü-tsan a beating, he summoned Old Mother T’ao to take her away, sold her for eight taels of silver, and used the proceeds to buy a seventeen-year-old maidservant named Man-t’ang to take charge of the kitchen in her place. But no more of this.

  To resume our story, after Hsi-men Ta-chieh returned to Ch’en Ching-chi’s residence and brought with her the beds and curtains, the items from her dowry, and the trunkloads of other goods:

  Every third day they squabbled, and

  Every fifth day they quarreled.

  Ch’en Ching-chi approached his mother, née Chang, to ask if he could borrow some money from her as capital with which to start a business for himself. His maternal uncle Militia Commander Chang Kuan had also borrowed fifty taels of silver from his mother, with which to seek a new position for himself. Ch’en Ching-chi, while drunk, got into a shouting match over this at the door of his uncle’s residence, which so upset his uncle that he went elsewhere to borrow the money he needed in order to seek a new position and returned the money he had borrowed to Ch’en Ching-chi’s mother. This had the effect of upsetting his mother, née Chang, to such an extent that she fell ill and took to her bed, taking medications all day long, and calling in doctors to treat her. Finding herself unable to resist his obstreperous demands, she finally weighed out two hundred taels of silver and turned it over to him so that he, with the help of their servant Ch’en Ting, could open up two rooms on the street-front of their property in which to launch a piece goods store.

  Every day, he got together with his cronies Lu the Second, Yang the Elder, and other:

  Foxy fellows and doglike companions,10

  who forgathered in the shop to strum the balloon guitar, play at dominoes or backgammon, and drink until late at night, with the result that his capital was gradually diminished. Ch’en Ting told his mother, née Chang, that he was drinking and wasting his money every day, and she believed him, so that she trusted her son no longer. Ch’en Ching-chi responded to this by claiming that Ch’en Ting, who was responsible for getting the fabrics dyed, had been embezzling the money entrusted
to him and forced him and his wife to leave the household and reside elsewhere. He then engaged Yang the Elder to be his manager.

  This Yang the Elder, whose formal name was Yang Kuang-yen, and whose nickname was Iron Fingernail, was a past master at:

  Peddling ephemera, like the wind and rain;11

  Telling falsehoods, fabricating fantasies,

  and getting hold of other people’s money in order to spend it on himself. He was a native of Nobottom ward in Carryoff village of Makebelieve district in Nonesuch prefecture. His father was named Yang Pu-lai, or Poor-parent Yang, and his mother’s maiden name was Pai. His younger brother was called Yang Erh-feng. He acquired the art of lying from the Taoist master known as the Barefaced Adept from the Fire Dragon Monastery in the Obdurate Grotto of the Vacuous Mountains. His wife was known as Miss Died-of-fright because his propensity to lie had literally frightened her to death.

  Those to whom he makes promises, end up

  Catching at shadows and clutching the wind;

  And bilking others of their due, he finds

  As easy as groping for something in a bag.

  Ch’en Ching-chi prevailed upon his mother to come up with an additional three hundred taels of silver, making a total of five hundred taels worth of capital, and trusted Yang Kuang-yen enough to propose that they go together to the canal port of Lin-ch’ing to purchase piece goods for their business.

  Yang the Elder went home to collect his luggage, including a bottomless shoulder bag, filled with soft currency and “elm-pod cash.”12 Carrying a black-handled decorated bow, and riding a haughty high horse, he joined Ch’en Ching-chi in setting out for the dock at Lin-ch’ing in the hope of acquiring some hard-to-find goods.

  After three li they fared by Nonesuch district;

  After five li they came to Makebelieve village;

  eventually arriving at Lin-ch’ing.

  The large dock area of this river port of Lin-ch’ing was a bustling and flourishing place, where traveling merchants came and went:

  A site at which river boats congregated;

  An area where transport wagons gathered.

  There were:

  Thirty-two lanes lined with sporting houses; and

  Seventy-two taverns featuring singing girls.13

  Ch’en Ching-chi was still a young man and allowed himself to be led by this Iron Fingernail, Yang the Elder, into:

  Visiting brothels, and

  Exploring taverns;

  Sleeping by daylight, and

  Dissipating at night;

  while neglecting the purchases they had come to make.

  While visiting a brothel one day, he encountered a painted face named Feng Chin-pao:

  Whose demeanor was both romantic and alluring, and

  Whose beauty and talent approached perfection.

  When he asked how old she was, the procuress said, “She is my own daughter, and my only source of livelihood. This year, she is just seventeen-years-old.”

  Ch’en Ching-chi no sooner set eyes on her than:

  His heart and eyes were entranced,

  and he proceeded to pay the procuress five taels of silver for the privilege of spending several nights in a row with her. When Yang the Elder saw that he was infatuated with the painted face, and reluctant to leave her, he persuaded him with flowery words from the sidelines to take her home with him. The procuress started by demanding a hundred and fifty taels of silver for her but allowed herself to be bargained down to a hundred taels, whereupon he paid her the silver and took her home with him. She was carried the whole way in a sedan chair, while Yang the Elder and Ch’en Ching-chi escorted their cartload of merchandise:

  Flourishing whips and prancing on their steeds,14

  with satisfaction. Truly:

  The sweetheart from the Swallows’ Belvedere,15

  Turns round her head in vain along the road.

  He is carrying off an immortal from Wu-ling,16

  To make her into a loving phoenix companion.

  When his mother, née Chang, saw that Ch’en Ching-chi had not purchased much in the way of merchandise but had used his capital to buy a singing girl instead, she became so upset that:

  Alas and alack;

  She stopped breathing and died.

  Ch’en Ching-chi had no alternative but to purchase a coffin, see that her corpse was dressed for burial, hold a scripture reciting ceremony, arrange for her to lie in state until after the first weekly commemoration was over, conduct a funeral procession to the ancestral graveyard outside the city, and bury her in the same grave with her husband. His maternal uncle Militia Commander Chang Kuan, out of consideration for his mother, chose to make allowances for him.

  When Ch’en Ching-chi came home after performing the ceremony of revisiting the grave three days after her burial, he set up her spirit tablet in the center of what had been her three-room suite and turned the other two rooms over to Feng Chin-pao to live in, while relegating his wife, Hsi-men Ta-chieh, to a side chamber. He also purchased a maidservant named Ch’ung-hsi to wait on Feng Chin-pao, put Yang the Elder in charge of the shop on the street-front of the residence, and indulged himself and the singing girl with:

  Unlimited quantities of meat and wine.

  Every night, he slept with the singing girl and no longer paid any attention to Hsi-men Ta-chieh.

  One day, he learned that Meng Yü-lou had married Li Kung-pi, the son of District Magistrate Li Ch’ang-ch’i, and taken a good deal of property with her; and that on the expiration of Magistrate Li’s three-year term of office he had been promoted to the position of assistant prefect of Yen-chou prefecture in Chekiang and had taken his credentials and set out along the internal waterways to assume his new office.

  This reminded Ch’en Ching-chi that on a former occasion he had picked up a hairpin of Meng Yü-lou’s, that it had been taken from him by P’an Chin-lien while he was in his cups, that she had later returned it to him, and that he still had it in his possession. It occurred to him that, using this hairpin as a piece of evidence, he could take it with him to Yen-chou and claim that Meng Yü-lou had had an affair with him and given him the pin as a gift; and that the property she had taken with her on the occasion of her marriage to Li Kung-pi included the trunkloads of gold and silver that had been entrusted to his family by their relative Yang Chien when it was threatened with confiscation.

  “This Assistant Prefect Li,” he thought to himself, “is merely a civil official. What sort of standing does he possess? When he learns of this serious accusation, no doubt he will order his son to turn his wife over to me with both hands. If I then bring her home with me, she and Feng Chin-pao will make a pleasing pair for me to enjoy myself with.”

  Truly:

  If his plan prevails, it will be like seizing

  the jade hare in the moon;

  If his plot succeeds, it will be like snaring

  the gold raven in the sun.17

  If Ch’en Ching-chi had not embarked on this scheme, all might have been well; but when he chose to do so, it was a case of:

  A sleepy slugabed encountering the General

  of the Five Ways;

  A cold and hungry demon running into

  Chung K’uei.

  There is a poem that testifies to this:

  How can he ever start out for Yen-chou

  in pursuit of a jade damsel?

  The human heart is difficult to fathom18

  like a stone sunk in the sea.

  To vanish inside a nobleman’s gates is to be

  as unreachable as the ocean depths;

  From this point on, the amorous gentleman

  is destined to fall into a pit.

  To resume our story, one day Ch’en Ching-chi went through his mother’s trunks and took out a thousand taels of silver. He set aside a hundred taels to cover Feng Chin-pao’s expenses during his absence and arranged for Ch’en Ting to move back in to look after the house and take charge of the piece goods store out front. He then set off
with the remaining nine hundred taels of silver in hand, at the Mid-autumn Festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, together with Yang the Elder and his servant Ch’en An, for Hu-chou, where they purchased half a boatload of piece goods and silk floss, and then went on to the river’s mouth at Ch’ing-chiang P’u, where they moored their boat at the dock, and put up at an inn the proprietor of which was called Ch’en the Second.

  That evening, after the lanterns had been lit, he had Ch’en the Second slaughter a chicken and provide wine for them, and he sat down to drink with Yang the Elder, saying, “Manager, I would like you to keep watch over the boatload of merchandise, and stay here at Ch’en the Second’s inn for a few days, while Ch’en An and I take some gifts with us and go to Yen-chou prefecture in Chekiang to pay a call on my sister, who is married to the son of the assistant prefect there. I should be able to get back in five days at the most or three days at the least.”

  “Brother,” said Yang the Elder, “go ahead and go if you like. I will be happy to remain here and wait for you at the inn. When you return, we can set off together.”

  Ch’en Ching-chi, though he:

  Never, ever, should have done it,

  set out one day, together with Ch’en An, taking some silver and presents with him, and traveled to Yen-chou prefecture, where they went into the city and found lodging in a monastery. Upon making inquiry, he learned that the Assistant Prefect Li Ch’ang-ch’i had assumed office a month ago, and that the boat with his dependents had arrived only three days earlier.

  Ch’en Ching-chi did not dare to be remiss but purchased four platters of delicacies, two bolts of satin fabric, and two jars of wine, which he entrusted to Ch’en An to carry. He then dressed himself to befit the occasion, endeavoring to look his best, and headed straight for the prefectural yamen.

  When he arrived there, he bowed to the gatekeeper, saying, “Please announce me. You can say that I am Meng the Second, a relative of the newlywed wife of His Honor Assistant Prefect Li’s son, who has come to pay her a visit.”

  When the gatekeeper heard this, he did not dare to be remiss but promptly went inside to report his arrival. The young squire was in his study reading a book at the time.

  When he heard that the visitor was a brother of his wife’s, he ordered his attendants to bring the presents inside, adjusted his clothing, and said, “Invite him to come in.”