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

by Roy, David Tod

  The page boy then handed the handkerchief and the silver to Tai-an and saw him to the door.

  When he got home and reported to Yüeh-niang, she saw that the return card read, “Respectfully indited with straightened skirts by the lady, née P’ang, of the Chou family,” and asked him, “Did you not see your sister Ch’un-mei?”

  “I did not see my sister,” replied Tai-an, “but I did see our son-in-law.”

  “You crazy jailbird!” laughed Yüeh-niang. “How could we have such an elderly son-in-law? The commandant is far too advanced in years for you to refer to him as our son-in-law.”

  “It was not the commandant I was referring to,” responded Tai-an, “it was our son-in-law Ch’en Ching-chi. When I first went in, His Honor Chou Hsiu was in the reception hall, and I handed him your card and kowtowed to him. He thanked me, saying, ‘I have put your mistress to the trouble of sending these lavish gifts,’ and then told a servant to bring me a serving of tea, and said to a page boy, ‘Deliver this card to your uncle, and have him seal up a handkerchief and three mace of silver for this gentleman, and a hundred candareens for the bearer.’ When he had finished speaking, His Honor Chou Hsiu put on his formal clothes and then set out on horseback to make New Year’s calls. After I had waited for what seemed like half a day, the gentleman in question came out through the postern gate, handed the return card and gratuities to the page boy, and then went back inside, leaving me to take charge of the gift box and return home. If it wasn’t him, who else could it have been?”

  “You crazy little jailbird!” said Yüeh-niang. “Stop talking nonsense. Who knows where that stray lamb has ended up begging for his food? If he hasn’t frozen to death, he has probably starved to death. Whatever would he be doing, for no good reason, in such a household? What would the commandant see in such a creature that would induce him to patronize him?”

  “Mistress,” said Tai-an, “would you like to make a bet with me about it? My identification of him is:

  As certain as certain can be.

  Even if he had been burned to ashes, I could identify his bones.”

  “How was he dressed?” asked Yüeh-niang.

  Tai-an responded, “He wore a new ‘tile-ridge’ hat, held in place with a gold pin, a black silk Taoist robe, and sandals with white stockings; and he looked to be well-fed.”

  “I can’t believe it,” exclaimed Yüeh-niang, “I simply can’t believe it.”

  We will say no more at this juncture about their conversation.

  To resume our story, when Ch’en Ching-chi reentered the rear compound, Ch’un-mei was still in her room, putting on her makeup and painting her eyebrows in front of her mirror stand.

  Ch’en Ching-chi showed her Yüeh-niang’s card and asked, “Why should her household be sending gifts to you? What reason could there be for it?”

  Ch’un-mei then told him all about how, some time ago, on the Ch’ing-ming Festival, she had run into Yüeh-niang at the Temple of Eternal Felicity outside the city; how, later on, P’ing-an had stolen the hair ornaments from the pawnshop; how the police chief Wu Tien-en had subjected him to a beating in the squeezers and induced him to testify that Yüeh-niang had been engaged in hanky-panky with Tai-an; and how Auntie Hsüeh had come and appealed to her to intervene in the case, with the result that the commandant had exonerated her.

  “Her household purchased gifts for us as an expression of their gratitude,” she went on to say, “and during the first month, I went to her home to celebrate Hsiao-ko’s birthday. We have been keeping in touch with each other ever since, and she promised that on my birthday she would purchase gifts and come pay me a visit.”

  When Ch’en Ching-chi heard this, he gave her a look and said, “Sister, how can you be so irresolute? Don’t you remember how that lousy whore forced the two of us to separate and sent Sister Six to her death?

  For a thousand years or all eternity,

  it would be better if you:

  Had nothing to do with each other,

  either indoors or out.

  But instead you actually intervened on her behalf. Why should you have been afraid to let Wu Tien-en torture that page boy P’ing-an into testifying that she had been engaging in hanky-panky, rather than letting that whore be taken into custody with a length of rope and allowing her to suffer humiliation in the courtroom? What’s it got to do with us anyway? Actually, if she hadn’t been engaging in hanky-panky with Tai-an, why should she have given her maidservant Hsiao-yü to him as a wife? If I had been here at the time, I never would have let you intervene on her behalf. She has been an enemy of ours, so why have you agreed to maintain relations with her?

  The sixth month is the rainy season;

  So one can hardly expect to have fair weather?”

  This tirade had the effect of temporarily reducing Ch’un-mei to silence, but she then went on to say, “Why not let bygones be bygones? As far as I’m concerned:

  Good minds are not obsessed with old enmities.”7

  “At the present time,” responded Ch’en Ching-chi:

  “Even the best intentions go quite unrequited.”

  “Since she has already sent these gifts to me,” said Ch’un-mei, “I can hardly agree to accept them without doing anything in return. She is expecting me to send someone to invite her.”

  “From now on,” opined Ch’en Ching-chi, “there is no need for us to pay any attention to that whore. What reason is there for issuing her an invitation?”

  “Not to invite her would be a source of embarrassment,” said Ch’un-mei. “I’ll just send her a card, and leave it to her whether she chooses to come or not. If she does come, you should confine yourself to the library where you are staying, and not come out to meet her. In the future, I won’t bother with her, and leave it at that.”

  Ch’en Ching-chi was annoyed by this but did not say a word and went to the front compound to compose an invitation, which Ch’un-mei entrusted to their servant Chou I to deliver to Wu Yüeh-niang. Yüeh-niang, after dressing herself appropriately, set out for the commandant’s residence, along with the wet nurse Ju-i, who held Hsiao-ko in her arms and rode in a smaller sedan chair, followed by Tai-an. When she arrived there, Ch’un-mei and Sun Erh-niang, appropriately dressed, came out to welcome her and ushered her back to the rear reception hall, where they sat down together after exchanging the customary amenities, and Ju-i, while holding Hsiao-ko in her arms, kowtowed to them. Ch’en Ching-chi concealed himself in the library and did not come out; allowing Ch’un-mei and Sun Erh-niang to entertain their guest with tea, preside over the feast, and proffer her wine in the rear reception hall. They had engaged the two singing girls, Han Yü-ch’uan and Cheng Chiao-erh, to play their instruments and sing for their entertainment. But there is no need to describe this in detail.

  Tai-an, who was being entertained in an anteroom in the front compound, happened to see a young page boy emerge from the rear compound, carrying a tray of soup and rice, and other viands, and head for the postern gate leading to the library on the western side of the courtyard.

  “Who are those things intended for?” asked Tai-an; to which the page boy replied, “They are for my uncle to eat.”

  “What is your uncle’s surname?” asked Tai-an.

  “His surname is Ch’en,” replied the page boy.

  Tai-an surreptitiously followed him toward the library on the western side of the courtyard, and when the page boy lifted aside the portiere and went inside, he cautiously peeked through the gauze-covered window and saw that it was indeed their son-in-law Ch’en Ching-chi who was sprawled out on the

  bed in the library, and who promptly got up, upon seeing that his meal was provided, set up a table for it, and proceeded to eat. Having observed this, Tai-an surreptitiously returned outside and sat down in the anteroom where he had been before.

  That evening, when the lantern bearers from her household came to fetch Wu Yüeh-niang, she took her leave and went home, whereupon Tai-an told her in detail what he had seen,
saying, “It is indeed the case that our son-in-law Ch’en Ching-chi is residing there.”

  From the time it was discovered that Ch’en Ching-chi had been taken into Ch’un-mei’s household, the two families ceased to have any relations with each other. Truly:

  Who could have known that the young scamp

  would face such adversities?

  Even a single thought may turn out to be

  the harbinger of resentment.8

  Although Ch’en Ching-chi was now carrying on a clandestine affair with Ch’un-mei, no one else was aware of it. Whenever the commandant was not at home, Ch’un-mei and Ch’en Ching-chi would eat together and drink together in her room. During their free time, while playing board games, or laughing and joking with each other:

  There was no length to which they would not go.

  When the commandant was at home, Ch’un-mei would send maidservants or page boys to take meals out to the library for him to eat. Even in broad daylight, she would frequently go to the library herself and keep him company for half a day before returning to the rear compound. The warmth of their feelings for each other was such that there is no need to describe it in detail.

  One day, the commandant led his men and horses out on a tour of inspection. It was the Dragon Boat Festival on the fifth day of the fifth month, and Ch’un-mei had arranged for a celebratory feast in the ornamental pavilion beside the library on the western side of the courtyard. Together with Sun Erh-niang and Ch’en Ching-chi, the three of them enjoyed drinking realgar-flavored wine and eating festival tsung-tzu,9 while waited upon by maids and attendants. On that auspicious day in the fifth month, what did the celebratory scene look like? Behold:

  Urns are planted with green willows,

  Vases are studded with red pomegranates.

  Portieres of beaded crystal furl

  their “shrimps’ whiskers,”

  Screens of inlaid mica display

  their peacocks’ tails.

  The irises are like sliced jade;

  Smiling beauties proffer goblets

  of iridescent hue.

  The tsung-tzu are like piled gold;

  Waiting maids raise on high beakers

  made of chrysoprase.

  Dainties are prepared of the rarest kind,

  Fruits are provided just in season.

  Efficacious charms and artemisia tigers

  adorn their heads;

  Variegated strands of yarn are fastened

  around their arms.

  Each household celebrates the Dragon

  Boat Festival;

  In every place people happily imbibe

  fragrant wine.

  Journeying beyond the corporeal realm

  in the universe of the drunk;

  Thus does one dissipate the idle days

  within the Taoist’s gourd.10

  Truly, it is a case of:

  Her ornate pendants tinkle, and her

  golden lotuses are tiny;

  As she gently handles her silken fan

  with her slender fingers.

  Ch’un-mei ordered the concubines Hai-t’ang and Yüeh-kuei to play their musical instruments and sing for their entertainment. That day, they continued feasting until:

  The burning sun sank into the west, and

  A gentle rain had a cooling effect.

  Ch’un-mei kept raising a large gold goblet in the shape of a lotus blossom, and urging them to drink. After:

  Several rounds of wine had been consumed,

  Sun Erh-niang:

  Could not handle the effects of the drink,

  and got up to return to her room in the rear compound, leaving Ch’un-mei and Ch’en Ching-chi to continue drinking together in the ornamental pavilion:

  Playing at guess-fingers or gaming at forfeits;

  First a cup for you,

  Then a cup for me.

  Before long, the maidservants brought out the gauze lanterns, and the wet nurses Chin-kuei and Yü-t’ang put the baby Chin-ko to bed. After losing a game, Ch’en Ching-chi went into the library, where he tried to avoid drinking any more by refusing to come out.

  Ch’un-mei first sent Hai-t’ang to invite him back out, and when she learned that he refused to come, she then sent Yüeh-kuei after him, saying, “You must drag him back out, no matter what. If you fail to do so, when you return I’ll give you ten slaps on the face, menial creature that you are.”

  Yüeh-kuei went to the library and pushed open the door, where she found that Ch’en Ching-chi was lying sprawled out on the bed, where he pretended to be snoring and could not be moved.

  “The mistress has sent me to invite you back,” she said. “If I fail to do so, she has threatened to beat me.”

  “If she beats you it is none of my business,” Ch’en Ching-chi muttered in response. “I’m drunk and can’t drink any more.”

  Yüeh-kuei dragged him up with her hand and gave him a push, saying, “I’m going to drag you there no matter what. If you won’t let me do so:

  You hardly count as a stout fellow.”11

  She then pushed and pulled Ch’en Ching-chi until he became so excited that, in the dark shadows, he pretended to be drunk and:

  Half facetiously but in earnest,

  embraced Yüeh-kuei with his arms and gave her a kiss.

  This only had the effect of encouraging Yüeh-kuei to:

  Assume privileges above her station,

  saying, “I came to fetch you with the best of intentions, and you assume the right to treat me so disrespectfully. How can you do such a thing?”

  “My child,” responded Ch’en Ching-chi, “who is it now that is putting on airs with the best of intentions?”

  So saying, he gave her another kiss, and it was only after this that they arrived back in the ornamental pavilion.

  “Mistress,” said Yüeh-kuei, “you may have threatened to beat me, but I have succeeded in dragging uncle back here.”

  Ch’un-mei then had Hai-t’ang pour out another large beaker of wine, and the two of them continued to enjoy themselves playing board games together, with the loser having to down a cup of wine as a forfeit. Thereupon, what with:

  First a game for you,

  Then a game for me,

  they continued playing until the maidservants fell asleep from exhaustion. Ch’un-mei then sent Yüeh-kuei and Hai-t’ang back to the rear compound to fetch them some tea. Once the two of them were alone in the ornamental pavilion:

  Untying her girdle pendant, she discloses the jade

  of the Nymph of the Hsiang River;

  Distending her ruby lips, she displays the cloves

  of the Han dynasty Secretariat.12

  Truly, it is a case of:

  Amid the flower shadows by the curved balustrade

  the lamplight shines aslant;

  Beside it there is a fallen hairpin along with a

  pair of phoenix-feather shoes.13

  There is a poem that testifies to this:

  The Spurious Cousins Resume Their Clandestine Affair

  As they embrace inside the ornamental pavilion

  her cloudy locks are disheveled;

  Her powdered sweat becomes congealed fragrance

  that permeates the crimson gauze.

  In the secluded courtyards the days are long14

  and nobody comes to disturb you;

  One can simply look on as the yellow orioles

  peck away at the famous flowers.

  At the time, just as the two of them were in the thick of things, the concubine Hai-t’ang came back with the tea and said, “Mistress, you had better return to the rear compound. Your son Chin-ko has just waked up and is crying for you.”

  Ch’un-mei kept Ch’en Ching-chi company in drinking another two goblets of wine, after which, she rinsed out her mouth with tea, took her leave, and returned to the rear compound. The serving maids were left to clear away the utensils, and the male servant Hsi-erh supported Ch’en Ching-chi on his way back to the library, wher
e he went to bed. But no more of this.

  One day, an imperial edict came down ordering Commandant Chou Hsiu to lead the infantry and cavalry under his command to join Chang Shu-yeh, the prefect of Chi-chou, in a campaign against the outlaws in Liang-shan Marsh led by the bandit chieftain Sung Chiang, and to set out as soon as possible.

  The commandant said to Ch’un-mei, “You must stay at home and look after our son Chin-ko. You should also engage the services of a go-between to arrange a marriage for your cousin. I will put his name on my roster; and if we are fortunate enough to be successful in our campaign, the magnanimity of the Emperor may result in his being given:

  An official post or even half of one,

  which will also serve to enhance your reputation.”

  Ch’un-mei assented to this suggestion; and two or three days later, the commandant packed his gear, mustered his infantry and cavalry, and left Chang Sheng and Li An behind to look after the household, while taking only his servant Chou Jen to accompany him. But no more of this.

  One day, Ch’un-mei summoned Auntie Hsüeh and said to her, thus and so, “My husband, on the eve of his departure, suggested that I engage the services of a go-between to find a wife for my cousin. See if you can locate a decent woman of:

  Appropriate social and economic standing,

  for me. It doesn’t matter if she is only fifteen or sixteen years old, so long as she is attractive, has dainty hands and feet, and is clever and adept, since he has a somewhat finicky disposition.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” said Auntie Hsüeh. “There is no need for you to tell me about it. I recall that he was not even satisfied by the likes of Hsi-men Ta-chieh.”

  “If you come up with one who isn’t up to snuff,” said Ch’un-mei, “just see if I don’t box your ears for it. After all, I’ll have to address her as my young sister-in-law. It’s not a matter to be treated lightly.”

  When they had finished speaking, Ch’un-mei had a maidservant bring in a serving of tea for her. Who should appear at this point but Ch’en Ching-chi, who came in to have something to eat.

  Auntie Hsüeh stepped up and bowed to him, saying, “Brother-in-law, I haven’t set eyes on you for a long time. Where have you been keeping yourself? You are to be congratulated. Just now, the mistress has directed me to find a nice wife for you. How will you repay me for doing so?”