That evening, as Ch’un-mei and the commandant enjoyed drinking wine together in their room, they could not avoid bringing up some mundane household matters, and Ch’un-mei said, “The arrangements for my cousin’s marriage cost a good deal.”
“Ai-ya,” responded the commandant. “Your only relative is this cousin, who has sought refuge with you. If he were to be without a wife, it would not bode well for his future prospects. Even though it has cost us a few taels of silver, it has not been spent on some unrelated person.”
“And now you have secured this prospect of advancement for him,” remarked Ch’un-mei. “It is more than enough to distinguish him.”
“The Emperor’s edict has already come down,” the commandant went on to say, “so that, any day now, I will have to go to Chi-nan prefecture to assume my office. I will leave you behind to look after the household, and you should provide your cousin with some capital so he can hire a manager, and open a business of some kind. Every third or fifth day, he can go to inspect the books, and he ought to be able to make enough in the way of profit this way to support himself.”
“What you propose makes sense,” responded Ch’un-mei.
That evening, the two of them enjoyed each other as husband and wife, but there is no need to describe this in detail.
The commandant remained at home for another ten days or so, but during the first decade of the eleventh month, he proceeded to get his baggage together and set out to assume his office in Chi-nan prefecture; taking Chang Sheng and Li An with him, and leaving his servants Chou Jen and Chou I to look after the household. He was seen off by Ch’en Ching-chi, who accompanied him as far as the Temple of Eternal Felicity south of the city before returning home.
One day, Ch’un-mei consulted with Ch’en Ching-chi and said, “The commandant suggested, thus and so, that you should open a business of some kind in the canal port of Lin-ch’ing, and hire a manager to run it for you, in the hope of making enough profit to help support the household.”
On hearing this, Ch’en Ching-chi was as pleased as could be. One day, while he was walking along the street in the process of looking for a manager, it was one of those occasions when:
Something was destined to happen.
Unexpectedly, he ran into his old friend Lu the Second, or Lu Ping-i, who bowed to him and said, “Brother, why is it that I haven’t seen you for such a long time?”
Ch’en Ching-chi responded by telling him about the death of his wife and continued, “That rascal Yang Kuang-yen made off with half a boatload of my goods, leaving me:
As poor as though I had been utterly cleaned out;
but I am all right again now. Luckily, my female cousin married into the household of Commandant Chou Hsiu, and they arranged another marriage for me. I have subsequently been raised to the rank of counselor and granted the right to distinguish myself by wearing an official cap and girdle. Right now, I am engaged in looking for a manager to run a business for me. But I haven’t been able to find one anywhere.”
“That rascal Yang Kuang-yen,” said Lu Ping-i, “after stealing your merchandise, hired a manager surnamed Hsieh and opened a large tavern on the Lin-ch’ing dock, known as the Hsieh Family Tavern. With the profits he makes he acts as a money-lender, making loans to the unlicensed prostitutes and singing girls who gather there from the four quarters in the effort to make a living, and collects substantial sums in the way of interest from them. Every day, he wears fine clothing, eats good meat, and rides around on a donkey. Every three or five days, he goes down to the dock to look over the accounts and collect his profits, while utterly ignoring his former friends. His younger brother, Yang Erh-feng, operates a gambling den in his home and engages in cock-fighting and the raising of dogs. Nobody dares to cross him.”
“I ran into him last year,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “and he not only turned against me without any feeling but started to give me a beating, from which I was lucky enough to be rescued by a friend. My hatred for him has infused the marrow of my bones.”
He then pulled Lu the Second into a tavern by the side of the road, where they went upstairs to have a drink together.
During their discussion, he asked, “How am I to deal with him in order to vent this anger of mine?”
Lu Ping-i responded with the words, “As the saying goes:
He whose hatred is petty is no gentleman;
He who lacks ruthlessness is not a hero.
If we were to attempt to reason with him, since he is the sort of person who:
Before seeing his own coffin will not
shed tears of repentance,
he is certain not to concede anything. But I have an alternative plan to propose. Brother, there is no need for you to engage in any other business activity. Simply write out a legal accusation against him and submit it to your commandant’s yamen. If you are able to recover your stolen goods and silver, you should be able to take over this tavern of his, invest some additional capital in it, and form a partnership with the manager Hsieh the Third. I could then cooperate with Hsieh the Third in operating the business on the dock, and all you would have to do is visit the premises every three or five days to inspect the accounts. I am absolutely sure that in a single month you should be able to realize a profit of more than a hundred taels of silver. That would be preferable to trying to start any other kind of business.”
Gentle reader take note: This suggestion that Lu Ping-i made at the time would have the result of causing several people to:
Die an untimely death.4
As for Ch’en Ching-chi:
The manner of his death would be
altogether too tragic;
The manner of his demise would be
entirely too grievous.5
The nature of his death was as terrible as that of Li Ts’un-hsiao of the Five Dynasties, and that of P’eng Yüeh of the Han Dynasty.6 Truly:
Though it may not be determined by fate;
It owes nothing at all to one’s efforts.
When Ch’en Ching-chi heard this proposal, he promptly bowed to Lu Ping-i and said, “Worthy Brother, what you say makes sense. As soon as I get home, I’ll take it up with my cousin and her husband. If this undertaking is successful, I’ll put you and Hsieh the Third in charge of the enterprise.”
Thereupon, when the two of them had finished their wine and gone downstairs to pay the bill, Ch’en Ching-chi said to Lu the Second, “Brother, be sure to keep this to yourself. If it should work out, I’ll come to thank you for it.”
“I understand,” responded Lu the Second, and the two of them then went their separate ways.
When Ch’en Ching-chi had explained the proposal in detail to Ch’un-mei, he went on to say, “But His Honor is not here right now, so what are we to do?”
The senior servant Chou Chung happened to be standing by their side and said, “That’s no problem. If Uncle will write out an accusation, indicating how much money and merchandise he lost, and include one of His Honor’s calling cards with it, I will deliver it to the two officials at the office of the Provincial Surveillance Commission. When this Yang Kuang-yen is brought before the bench and subjected to a beating in the squeezers, there is no reason to fear that the rascal will not cough up the money.”
Ch’en Ching-chi was delighted by this proposal and proceeded at once to write out an accusation, seal it up in an envelope with one of the commandant’s calling cards, and send the senior servant Chou Chung to take it to the office of the Provincial Surveillance Commission.
The two officials were sitting on the bench at the time, in the process of conducting a hearing, when the gatekeeper came in and reported, “His Honor Chou Hsiu, the commandant of the Regional Military Command, has sent someone to deliver a document to you.”
The officials Ho Yung-shou and Chang Mao-te called for Chou Chung to come before them and inquired about His Honor Chou Hsiu’s assumption of the office to which he had recently been promoted. After listening to his explanation, upon openin
g the envelope and examining the accusation and the calling card, they felt inclined to do Chou Hsiu a favor.
Agreeing forthwith to accept the case, they sent detectives and constables to the port of Lin-ch’ing to arrest Yang Kuang-yen and gave return cards to Chou Chung, saying, “When you get home, convey our regards to His Honor and his wife, and tell them that when we succeed in recovering the missing money, they can send someone here to collect it.”
Chou Chung took the return cards back to the commandant’s yamen and told Ch’un-mei, “They agreed forthwith to send people to arrest him and said that as soon as they succeed in recovering the money, you can send someone to collect it.”
When Ch’en Ching-chi saw that the two accordion-bound cards read, “Respectfully presented by your pupils Ho Yung-shou and Chang Mao-te,” he was utterly delighted.
In less than two days time, the detectives, inspectors, and constables from the Provincial Surveillance Commission who had been dispatched to the port of Lin-ch’ing succeeded in arresting Yang Kuang-yen and his younger brother Yang Erh-feng and bringing them back to the yamen. The two officials there interrogated them on the basis of Ch’en Ching-chi’s accusation and, upon subjecting them to a beating in the squeezers and several days of incarceration, succeeded in recovering the sum of 350 taels of silver, and a hundred bolts of porous ramie fabric. In addition, the tableware from the tavern was estimated to be worth 50 taels of silver. In Ch’en Ching-chi’s accusation he claimed to be due a reparation of 900 taels of silver, so they were still short 350 taels. They sold their home for 50 taels of silver, but their property was then completely exhausted. Ch’en Ching-chi was thus allowed the right to take over his stake in the Hsieh Family Tavern, and he entered into a partnership with the owner Fatty Hsieh, or Hsieh the Third. Ch’un-mei also provided the sum of 500 taels of silver, so that he had a capital of a thousand taels of silver, and he appointed Lu Ping-i to be his manager. He also had the tavern entirely redecorated, repainting and varnishing it, and decorating it with pictures, so that:
The balustrades were sparkling,
The rafters appeared brand new,
The tables looked shiny bright,
The wine and food well ordered.
On the day that it reopened:
Drums and music resounded to the heavens,
Pipes and flutes were blown harmoniously;
attracting the patronage of itinerant merchants and singing girls from the four quarters. Ch’en Ching-chi celebrated the occasion by sacrificing a pig and burning paper money. As the sayings go:
If you unplug the jug, it will make
three people drunk;
If you uncork the flagon, the aroma
will spread far off.7
Spirits and immortals have deposited
their jade girdles;
Ministers and councilors have pawned
their golden sables.8
When Ch’en Ching-chi climbed to the top of the large tavern, he found himself surrounded by translucent latticed windows that could be pushed open, and balustrades embellished with green varnish.
In all four directions, clouded peaks
rise in piles;9
Above and below, the sky and the water
appear to meet.10
To the east, dimly appear the spiraling blue
peaks of Mount T’ai;
To the west, impenetrable dark mists shroud
the imperial capital;
To the north, the red structures of wealthy
homes rise in layers;
To the south, the Huai River’s vast extent
is like a strip of silk.
Above and below, the tavern had more than a hundred compartments.
Room after room houses the dancing
skirts of singing girls;
Floor after floor reverberates with
lively pipes and strings.11
Words are inadequate to describe the scene:
The viands are piled as high as hills;
The wine flows as copiously as waves.
Truly, it is a case of:
The dancing continued till the moon in the pavilion
amid the willows hung low;
The singing went on until the breeze underneath the
peach-blossom fans expired.12
It was the middle of the first month when Ch’en Ching-chi reopened the Hsieh Family Tavern on the dock in Lin-ch’ing, and he cleared as much as thirty-five taels of silver per day. It was managed jointly by Fatty Hsieh and Lu Ping-i, who served together behind the counter. Every three or five days, Ch’en Ching-chi would ride a horse, accompanied by his servant Little Chiang, and go to the port of Lin-ch’ing to look over the accounts. Whenever he came, the two managers Lu Ping-i and Fatty Hsieh would prepare a clean room on an upper story of the building that was provided with a curtained bedstead, furnished with tables and chairs, and replastered so that it was as spotless as a snow grotto. They would prepare a feast for him there, and assign four good-looking powdered faces to keep him company. The “cribber” Ch’en the Third would look after seeing that he was supplied with wine.
One day, on the third day of the third month, when spring was at its most beautiful, and the landscape was suffused with floral fragrance:
With their green hues, the locusts and
willows populate the banks;
With their rich reds, the apricots and
peaches shine like brocade.
Ch’en Ching-chi, on an upper floor of the tavern, leaned over the green balustrade and contemplated the scene below, which was alive with activity. There is a poem that testifies to this:
Tossed by the wind, enshrouded in mist,
the brocade banner flutters;
During this era of great peace the days
are beginning to grow longer.
Wine is capable of enhancing the courage
of even a stouthearted hero;
And is equally effective at alleviating
the depression of a beauty.
Deep within the three-foot long branches
on the willow-lined bank;
The tavern’s signpost rises at an angle
beside the apricot trees.
The stalwart who has yet to accomplish
his lifelong ambition;
Is prone to sing haughtily as he enters
the Land of Drunkenness.13
One day,14 Ch’en Ching-chi happened to look out the rear window of his chamber on an upper floor of the tavern that overlooked the canal and noticed that there were two barges moored there, loaded with trunks, tables, benches, and other household effects, which four or five workers were moving into an empty suite on the ground floor. There were also two women on the barges, one of whom was middle-aged and tall of stature, with a rosewood complexion; while the other was a young woman, given to:
Putting on rouge and applying powder,
who had an attractive pale complexion and was about twenty years old. The two of them also proceeded to go into the empty suite below.
Ch’en Ching-chi approached Manager Hsieh and demanded to know, “Who are those people who, without asking our permission, are taking it upon themselves to move into our building?”
Ch’en Ching-chi Meets an Old Acquaintance in Lin-ch’ing
“They are two women who have come from the Eastern Capital,” explained Manager Hsieh. “Having failed to locate their relatives, and being unable to locate a dwelling on such short notice, they asked our neighbor Old Man Fan if they could stay here for two or three days before moving on. I was planning to report this to you sir, but you have asked me about it before I was able to do so.”
Ch’en Ching-chi was about to give vent to his anger when he saw the young woman approach him respectfully with straightened skirts and bow deeply, saying, “Pray abate your wrath, sir. Your manager is not at fault. It was we who took the liberty:
For lack of an alternative,15
of moving in before coming to ask your permission.
If you will permit us to remain here for three to five days, we will respectfully reimburse you upon moving out.”
When Ch’en Ching-chi saw that the young woman had a way with words, he proceeded to look her over from top to toe, while the woman glanced back at him with her pair of starry eyes.
Their mutual feelings were visible in their four eyes;
They found they were unable to control their emotions.
As for Ch’en Ching-chi:
From his mouth no word was uttered, but
In his heart he thought to himself,
“I must have met her somewhere before, she looks so familiar.”
The middle-aged woman who was tall of stature looked hard at Ch’en Ching-chi and said, “Sir, are you not Son-in-law Ch’en from the household of His Honor Hsi-men Ch’ing?”
Ch’en Ching-chi was startled by this and said, “How were you able to recognize me?”
“I will not deceive you,” the woman replied. “I am the wife of his former manager Han Tao-kuo, and this girl is my daughter Ai-chieh.”
“The two of you were residing in the Eastern Capital,” said Ch’en Ching-chi, “so how have you happened to turn up here? And where is your husband?”
“He is on one of the barges, looking after our belongings,” the woman replied.
Ch’en Ching-chi immediately responded by ordering a waiter to go invite him into his presence. Before long, Han Tao-kuo came in and greeted him with a bow. His hair and whiskers had already begun to turn gray.
He then went on to explain the recent events in the capital, saying, “At court, Grand Preceptor Ts’ai Ching, Defender-in-chief T’ung Kuan, Minister of the Right Li Pang-yen, Defender-in-chief Chu Mien, Defender-in-chief Kao Ch’iu, and Eunuch Director Li Yen, all six of them, have been impeached in a memorial to the throne by the national university student Ch’en Tung.16 His allegations have subsequently been supported by numerous other memorials
The Plum in the Golden Vase or, Chin P'ing Mei Page 53