When Ch’un-mei had read the invitation, she waited until noon before setting out. When she did so:
Her head was adorned with pearls and trinkets,
including gold phoenixes, hairpins and combs, and pearl earrings; her torso was clad in a full-sleeved scarlet robe, decorated with a motif of the four animals representing the cardinal directions paying homage to the ch’i-lin, over a skirt of kingfisher-blue variegated brocade, from which suspended jade pendants tinkled, and which was secured with a gold girdle; while on her feet she wore shoes of scarlet embroidery with high white satin heels. She rode in a large sedan chair borne by four bearers and invested with a black satin gold lamé canopy, escorted by soldiers holding rattan rods who shouted to clear the way, accompanied by servants and attendants carrying her dressing case, and closely followed by two smaller sedan chairs for her maidservants.
Wu Yüeh-niang had invited Sister-in-law Wu to join her and had also engaged the services of two singing girls to play their instruments and sing for the entertainment of her guest. Upon hearing that Ch’un-mei had arrived, Yüeh-niang, likewise, dressed herself elaborately in mourning garments in order to receive her. She wore a five-ridged cap with a number of gold and turquoise head ornaments on her head, two pearl earrings dangled beside her ears, and the two sides of her collar were clasped together with a gold chatelaine. On her torso she wore a white satin jacket, over a long trailing skirt of kingfisher-blue satin brocade; and on her feet she wore a pair of jade-colored satin high-heeled shoes. With Sister-in-law Wu, she then went out to the reception hall in the front compound to receive her guest.
Ch’un-mei’s large sedan chair was carried all the way to the ceremonial gate between the front and rear compounds before she alighted from it and proceeded to the reception hall to proffer her greetings, with her servants accompanying her on either side. Upon arriving there, she kowtowed to Yüeh-niang:
Just as though inserting a taper in its holder.
Yüeh-niang promptly kowtowed in return, saying hastily, “The other day I
put you to a great deal of trouble on my behalf, and yet you would not even accept the bolt of course fabric I offered you. And now, deeply moved by your bountiful gift of a sacrificial table:
I will never be able to thank you enough.”
“You embarrass me,” protested Ch’un-mei.” “My husband has nothing better than these paltry gifts to offer.
They are no more than tokens of our esteem.
I have wanted since some time ago to invite you over for a visit, but my husband was about to leave on a tour of inspection, so I failed to do so.”
“Sister,” said Yüeh-niang, “when is your birthday? When the day comes, I would like to buy some presents and come to see you.”
“My birthday is on the twenty-fifth day of the fourth month,” responded Ch’un-mei.
“I will be sure to come visit you that day,” said Yüeh-niang.
When the two of them had finished with these amenities, and Ch’un-mei had accepted two obeisances from her, she insisted that Yüeh-niang should stand up; after which she proceeded to kowtow to Sister-in-law Wu, who likewise returned the courtesy.
“Sister-in-law Wu,” objected Ch’un-mei, “you ought not to do that,” and she helped her up with one hand so she could accept her obeisance.
“Sister,” responded Sister-in-law Wu:
“The present cannot be compared to the past.
You embarrass this old body to death.”
After accepting only half an obeisance from Ch’un-mei, she conducted her to the seat of honor. Yüeh-niang and her sister-in-law then sat down to keep her company in their positions as hosts. The servants’ wives, the maidservants, and the wet nurse then came in to pay their respects to their visitor, and Ch’un-mei observed that the wet nurse Ju-i was carrying Hsiao-ko in her arms.
“Little Brother,” said Yüeh-niang, “won’t you come and kowtow to Sister Ch’un-mei, in order to thank her for coming to celebrate your birthday today?”
Hsiao-ko actually climbed off Ju-i’s lap and went over to bow to Ch’un-mei.
“A fine little rascal you are,” remarked Yüeh-niang, “refusing to kowtow to our sister, but merely offering her a bow.”
Ch’un-mei responded by hurriedly pulling out of her sleeve a brocade handkerchief, as well as a gold brooch decorated with the eight auspicious symbols, which she had them attach to his cap.
“Sister,” said Yüeh-niang, “I have put you to even further trouble,” and she bowed to her in gratitude.
After this, Hsiao-yü and the wet nurse Ju-i came forward and kowtowed to her. Ch’un-mei responded by giving Hsiao-yü a gold-headed hairpin, and Ju-i a pair of silver flower ornaments.
“Sister,” said Yüeh-niang, “you may not know it yet, but I have given our wet nurse to Lai-hsing as his wife. Lai-hsing’s former wife Hui-hsiu became ill and died.”
“She has always hoped with all her heart to remain in this household,” remarked Ch’un-mei, “so that is appropriate.”
A maidservant then brought in a serving of tea, and after they had consumed it, Yüeh-niang said, “Sister, please come back and sit in my parlor in the rear compound. It is cold in this reception hall.”
When Ch’un-mei arrived in the rear compound, the first thing she saw was Hsi-men Ch’ing’s spirit tablet, before which lamps and candles had been lit, and the sacrificial table had been set up. Ch’un-mei burned some paper money before it and shed a few tears; after which, standing screens were placed around the company, the charcoal in the brazier was ignited, an Eight Immortals table was set up, and the tea service was laid out. This consisted of deftly prepared steamed shortcake, rare sweets, mouth-watering delicacies, and exotic fruits, in saucers with incised gold ornamentation, with ivory chopsticks, and high-grade tender leaf tea, served in snow-white cups. Yüeh-niang and Sister-in-law Wu kept Ch’un-mei company as she enjoyed her tea, after which, they led her into the interior of the master suite to change her clothes. When she had taken off her outer gown, the servants’ wives who had accompanied her opened the dressing case she had brought with her, and she changed into a green jacket of patterned brocade, over a skirt of lilac-colored brocade, before sitting down with her hosts in Yüeh-niang’s room, and chatting for a while.
“How is your young son doing?” asked Yüeh-niang. “Why didn’t you bring him with you today?”
“I would have brought him with me,” responded Ch’un-mei, “so he could kowtow to you; but his father pointed out that the weather is frigid and was afraid that he might catch a cold. He doesn’t want to stay in his quarters but likes to have the servant on duty take him out to the courtroom, or carry him outside. The last few days he has been crying a great deal, but I don’t know why.”
“Doesn’t he miss you when you are away?” inquired Yüeh-niang.
“Whatever happens,” said Ch’un-mei, “he has two wet nurses who take turns looking after him.”
“His Honor Chou Hsiu is well along in years,” said Yüeh-niang, “and must be very pleased that you have borne him this little son. It is also your good fortune as a woman. I have heard that his secondary consort Sun Erh-niang has also borne him a daughter. How old is she now?”
“That child of Sun Erh-niang’s is called Yü-chieh,” responded Ch’un-mei, “and she will be four years old on her next birthday. This child of mine is called Chin-ko.”
“I have heard,” said Yüeh-niang, “that His Honor also has two other concubines at his disposal.”
“Those two are really only maidservants who are learning to sing,” said Ch’un-mei. “They are merely fifteen or sixteen years old and are constantly up to mischief.”
“Does His Honor bother to sleep with them very often?” asked Yüeh-niang. “My Lady,” said Ch’un-mei, “he hardly has the time to do so. He is:
Usually abroad, and
Seldom at home.
At the present time, all over the realm, there have been:
Outbreaks of thieves
and bandits;1
and he has been ordered by imperial edict to be responsible for many things, including the protection of the territory within his jurisdiction, the policing of the canals and waterways, the arrest of thieves and bandits, and the training of infantry and cavalry. Consequently, he is constantly going out on tours of inspection and is utterly exhausted.”
When they had finished speaking, Hsiao-yü brought in a serving of tea for them to drink.
Ch’un-mei then said to Yüeh-niang, “My Lady, would you please take me for a tour of my former mistress’s quarters in the garden, beneath the artificial hill.”
“Sister,” responded Yüeh-niang, “the artificial hill and the garden are no longer the artificial hill and the garden that they used to be. Ever since my husband passed away, there has been no one to look after them, and they have been allowed to fall into a state of dilapidation. The stone markers have fallen over and the trees have died. Without a reason for doing so, I don’t go there anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Ch’un-mei. “I’d just like to go and take a look at my former mistress’s quarters.”
Yüeh-niang was unable to dissuade her and felt compelled to send Hsiao-yü to go fetch the keys to the garden gate and the gate of the grotto underneath the artificial hill. When the gates had been opened, she and Sister-in-law Wu accompanied Ch’un-mei for a tour of the garden, where they lingered for what seemed like half a day. Behold:
The encircling walls were tumbling down;
The terraces and kiosks were collapsing.
The painted walls to either side were
covered with green moss;
The floriate tiles on the ground were
hidden by verdant grass.
The rock formations before the hill,
Had been so damaged that they no longer
looked impressive;
The summer bedsteads in the pavilions,
Had been leaked on until their frames
had become wobbly.
The door of the rock grotto was
covered with cobwebs;
The water in the fishponds was
swarming with frogs.
Foxes frequently elected to sleep in the
Cloud Repose Pavilion;
Squirrels scampered back and forth in the
Hidden Spring Grotto.
Ch’un-mei Visits the Garden of Her Former Home
One suspected that for years it had not
been visited by humans;
But it was obvious that all day long it
was frequented by clouds.2
After looking around for a while, Ch’un-mei made her way into the former quarters of Li P’ing-erh, where she saw that the second floor was littered with broken-down furniture, the rooms on the ground floor were locked, and the ground in the yard was covered with a tangle of uncultivated grass. Only then did she venture into her former mistress P’an Chin-lien’s quarters, where she found that the second floor was still stocked with pharmaceuticals and incense, while the ground floor had only two clothes cabinets and did not even have a bed.
She then asked Hsiao-yü, “What has become of that bed of my mistress’s? Why do I not see it?”
“When the Third Lady remarried,” said Hsiao-yü, “she took it with her.”
Yüeh-niang then came forward to explain the situation, saying, “When Father was still alive, he took that bed with retractable steps that the Third Lady had brought with her as part of her dowry and gave it to Hsi-men Ta-chieh when she married into the Ch’en family. Later, when the Third Lady remarried, I let her have your mistress’s bed to take with her.”
“I have heard,” said Ch’un-mei, “that when you learned of Hsi-men Ta-chieh’s death, you had that bed brought back to your place.”
“As for that bed,” said Yüeh-niang, “I was short of money and sold it for a mere eight taels of silver, which I had to spend on the lictors from the district yamen.”
Upon hearing this, Ch’un-mei nodded her head and could not prevent her starry eyes from feeling sour.
From her mouth no word was uttered, but
In her heart she thought to herself,
“It was the disposition of my mistress to:
Contend for supremacy without conceding defeat,
and she made a point of urging her husband to buy that bed for her. I had really hoped that I might be able to acquire this bed of hers as a souvenir, but it has unexpectedly fallen into someone else’s hands.”
Unable to control her distress, she asked Yüeh-niang, “What has become of that inlaid mother-of pearl bed of the Sixth Lady’s?”
“It’s a long story,”
responded Yüeh-niang. “Ever since my husband passed away, every day:
There are merely expenditures,
Without any sources of income.
As the saying goes:
If a family lacks a means of subsistence,
Even bushels of gold will not sustain it.
Being short of money, I had it taken away to be sold.”
“How much did you sell it for?” asked Ch’un-mei.
“I only got thirty-five taels of silver for it,” responded Yüeh-niang.
“It’s too bad,” remarked Ch’un-mei. “That bed, I remember Father’s saying, originally cost more than sixty taels of silver; and now it has been sold for so much less. If I had only known that you were getting rid of it, I would have been willing to pay you thirty or forty taels of silver for it. I would have really liked to have it.”
“My good Sister,” said Yüeh-niang, “no matter how proficient people may be:
They cannot foresee future developments.”
When they had sighed over this for what seemed like half a day, whom should they see but the servant Chou Jen from Chou Hsiu’s household, who came to fetch Ch’un-mei, saying, “Mistress, His Honor would like you to return home as soon as possible. Your son has been crying after you.”
Ch’un-mei promptly agreed to return to the rear compound, and Yüeh-niang ordered Hsiao-yü to lock the garden gate, after which she accompanied her back to the parlor in the master suite, where already:
Screens displayed their peacocks’ tails,
Curtains showed off their mermaid silks,
a feast had been laid out, and two singing girls stood by, with their silver psalteries and balloon guitars, to play and sing for the company. Yüeh-niang proceeded to serve the wine and preside over the feast, but there is no need to describe this in detail.
Ch’un-mei was ushered to the seat of honor but refused to occupy it by herself, insisting that Sister-in-law Wu share it with her. Yüeh-niang took her place as hostess and served the wine, as soup and rice, along with other delicacies, were laid before them, and Ch’un-mei directed her servant Chou Jen to reward the chef with three mace of silver. Words are inadequate to describe the scene:
Platters are piled with exotic viands,
And wine overflows with golden ripples.
Thereupon, what with:
The raising of glasses and passing of cups,
they continued drinking until the sun was about to set.
What should they see at this juncture but another servant from Chou Hsiu’s household, who came with a lantern to escort Ch’un-mei on her way home. Yüeh-niang, however, would not let her go and ordered the two singing girls to kneel before her and play their instruments and sing, as a means of encouraging her to continue drinking.
“Select a good song,” she told them, “with which to show your respect for Mistress Chou.”
She also had Hsiao-yü pour out a large goblet of wine and place it before her.
Urging Ch’un-mei to drink, she said, “Sister, choose one of your favorite songs, and have the two of them perform it for you as you enjoy your wine.”
“My Lady, responded Ch’un-mei, “I ought not to drink any more. I fear that my child is crying for me at home.”
“Even if your little boy may be crying for you,” said Yüeh-niang,
“after all, his wet nurses are at hand to look after him. It’s early enough yet, and I know you’ve got no mean capacity for drink.”
Ch’un-mei then asked the two singing girls, “What are your names, and whose establishments are you from?”
The two of them knelt down before her and said, “One of us is the younger sister of Han Chin-ch’uan and is named Han Yü-ch’uan; while the other is the niece of Cheng Ai-hsiang and is named Cheng Chiao-erh.”
“Can you sing any songs to the tune “Reluctant to Paint Her Eyebrows?” asked Ch’un-mei.
“If Mistress would like us to,” responded Han Yü-ch’uan, “we can both do so.”
“Since the two of you can sing what she has requested,” said Yüeh-niang, “let us pour out some more wine for Mistress Chou to enjoy as the two of you sing for her.”
Hsiao-yü, who was standing to one side, promptly poured out more wine, while the two singing girls, one of them playing the psaltery, and the other the balloon guitar, proceeded to sing:
My lover, when can I ever cease
to care for you?
Having endured the spring, it has
now come to autumn.
Who is there who understands what
is in my heart?
Heaven!
You have caused me to become thin
and emaciated.
Upon hearing anything of you, my
two eyes shed tears.
Ever since the beginning, we have
shared our desires.
Who would have thought you could
heartlessly abandon me?
When Ch’un-mei had drunk her wine, Yüeh-niang told Cheng Chiao-erh to pour another cup for her, at which Ch’un-mei said, “Venerable Lady, you must keep me company with another cup for yourself.”
Thereupon, both of their cups were filled to the brim, and the two singing girls then continued to sing:
My lover, all on your account I am
losing my allure.
Magpies are crying before the eaves,3
unwilling to stop.
There is no call for the deadly tone
of their lively cries.
Heaven!
Nevertheless, they serve to stir up
The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei Page 48