Everybody laughed. They drank their wine, and Bojue, taking a large cup, suggested that they should play the game of giving orders. Ximen was not anxious to begin, but Bojue pressed him, and at last he agreed. “I will take the words ‘Wind,’ ‘Flower,’ ‘Snow’ and ‘Moon.’ I will begin; Brother Chang shall be next; then our host, and, lastly, Han Jinchuan. Each must make a verse and bring into it one of my four words. When he begins, he must drink a cup; and, if he fails, he must drink a second cup and tell a story. If the story is a poor one, he must tell another. I will begin.” He took his cup and drank it. “‘The clouds are few, the wind gentle. It is nearly noon.’ Now, Brother Chang, it is your turn.”
Chang drank his cup and said: “Chasing the flowers and following the willows, I crossed the stream.” Then it was the turn of the host. Ying Bojue drank his cup of wine, but he seemed dazed and could not get out a word.
“Brother Ying,” Ximen Qing said, “you must pay your forfeit and drink another cup.”
“Let me think a moment,” Bojue said. He racked his brains, and Ximen asked him again. “Of the glory of Spring,” he began, “a few degrees have been revealed.”
Ximen Qing roared with laughter. “That doesn’t include a single one of my words,” he cried. “That verse won’t do. You’ll have to drink two cups.”
They called for Bojue’s story.
“Once there was a scholar on his way to the Capital,” Bojue began. “His boat was anchored in the Yangzi. At nightfall he asked the boatman to go and anchor somewhere else, for, he said, ‘There are bandits in this place.’ ‘Where?’ said the boatman. ‘Don’t you see that inscription on the stone tablet there, “Bandits on the river”?’ The boatman laughed and said: ‘That isn’t “bandits on the river.” How could you make such a mistake? It is not “bandit” but “poem”.’ ‘Well,’ said the scholar, ‘they both look alike to me.’“
“I don’t believe any scholar would make such a mistake,” Ximen Qing said, laughing.
“Brother Ying,” said Chang Zhijie, “you must drink ten big cups.”
“Why?” said Ying Bojue, astonished.
“Think for yourself,” Chang Zhijie said.
Ximen Qing was reputed to be the wealthiest man in all Shandong, and, when Bojue had spoken in his story of the scholar’s confusing the word “poem” for “bandit,” he might have been taken to refer to Ximen Qing, for the word for a very wealthy man has the same sound.
Ximen Qing himself had not at once seen the point, but now he understood. Bojue realized that he had made a slip. He drank two cups of wine and asked to be forgiven.
“If you did not deserve to be punished, I would not punish you,” Ximen Qing said, “but you do deserve it, and I cannot let you off.”
Bojue felt uncomfortable, but he drank a few cups more. “You have too much to say,” he said to Chang Zhijie.
“Now you must tell us another story,” Ximen said. But Bojue was afraid to commit himself again. “Never mind,” Ximen said, “it is only fun, come along.” Bojue felt more at ease.
“When Confucius was traveling in the west,” he began, “someone caught a unicorn. For some reason Confucius did not see it, and, day and night, he wept and cried bitterly in his house. His disciples were afraid that he would fall ill, so they got a bull, dressed it up in copper coins and tried to persuade him that this was the animal. But the moment Confucius set eyes on it, he saw through their trick. ‘Obviously,’ he said, ‘this is a very wealthy bull, but why do you try to make out that it is a unicorn?’”
When he had finished his story, Bojue fell upon his knees before Ximen Qing. “I know I am not fit to live,” he said, “but I really didn’t mean any harm.”
Ximen Qing laughed and told him to stand up. Han Jinchuan laughed too. “Beggar Ying,” she said, “you are always trying to be smart at other people’s expense. Now you’ve put your foot in it. Father, don’t pay any heed to him.”
Bojue was annoyed at this. He went to Han Jinchuan and struck her on the head. “That rascal Chang,” he said, “is bad enough. There was no need for you, you little whore, to say anything more.” He had hit her hard and hurt her. She dared not cry, but it was clear that she was very much put out.
“You dog,” Ximen Qing said, laughing, “first you make rude jokes about me and then you begin hitting people. What punishment do you really want?”
Bojue laughed and put his arm around Han Jinchuan. “My daughter,” he said, “where were you brought up with such tender care that you are ready to cry at a little tap like that? It surprises me that you are able to put up with things as big as a donkey’s.”
Han Jinchuan turned her head and looked scornfully at him. “Beggar,” she said, “pray when were you there to see? You are talking nonsense. It is your wife who has to endure a thing as big as a donkey’s.”
“Why, of course I’ve seen,” Bojue said, laughing. “The gentleman is famous for his beauty, his asininity, wealth, youth and idleness. He is just the sort of man you like. And that reminds me of another story. There was once a young lady whose thing was getting rather the worse for wear. Somebody told her that if she put a piece of alum into it, it would recover its former tightness. This the young lady did, but she found that it tightened her up so much that it hurt. This made her very sorrowful. She was standing outside her gate when a passerby said: ‘That little whore is trying to look like Ba Wang.’ The young lady heard him. ‘What!’ she said, ‘Ba Wang indeed! Why, I can’t even manage Fan Kuai!’”
They all laughed at this, even Han Jinchuan. Ying Bojue finished his wine and offered another cup to Ximen Qing, asking him to take the last turn in the game. “It is Han Jinchuan’s turn,” Ximen said. Jinchuan would not play, and Chang urged Ximen. Ximen drank a cup of wine and said: “Up the staircase of the clouds, let us go to the cavern of the immortals in the palace of the moon.” So the game was finished.
Ximen Qing changed his clothes and went for a stroll. Bojue was still calling for more refreshment. Suddenly he noticed that Jinchuan had disappeared. He looked about and found that she had gone around the artificial mound and was relieving herself behind the arbor of roses. He picked a branch from a flowering shrub and quietly went over to her. Squatting down behind her, he touched the heart of her flower. Jinchuan was startled, jumped up before she had finished what she was about, and wet her drawers. At that moment Chang Zhijie crept up behind Bojue and pushed him so violently that he fell forward and caught all the piss in his face. He sprang to his feet, laughingly cursed Chang Zhijie, and ran after him to beat him. Ximen Qing stood beside a pine tree and roared with laughter. Even Han Jinchuan laughed and skipped with delight. “Beggar Ying,” she said, “now you’ve got what you deserved.” They went back to the table.
“Now, you dog,” Ximen Qing said, “you have had your joke at our expense. What about telling us a story against yourself?”
“I don’t mind in the least,” Bojue said. “One day a rich man let out a fart. A man standing by, one who always lived by sponging on the rich man, said: ‘I smell nothing.’ This alarmed the rich man. ‘That’s bad,’ he said. ‘If there is no smell to my farts there must be something wrong with me. I must see a doctor.’ ‘Wait a moment,’ said the sponger, ‘I will make sure.’ He put out his nose and pretended to sniff again. Then he smacked his lips. ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘there is a splendid aftertaste. You have nothing to worry about.’ ”
They all laughed. Chang Zhijie said: “You have made rude remarks about our brother, but why should you draw a picture of me?” They all laughed again. Ying Bojue asked Chang Zhijie to guess fingers with Ximen Qing, and Han Jinchuan sang songs for them.
Chen Jingji, when he was sure that Ximen Qing had gone out, dressed himself and waited for an opportunity to approach Pan Jinlian. He dared not go to her openly, but went to the Snow Cavern hoping that she might be there. He waited for a long time but she did not come. At last he lost patience and went to her room. Fortunately, no one saw him. When he came to the door he could
hear her singing in a low sweet voice: “Why did you love me and then forget me?” This seemed a proof that she really loved him. He rushed into the room and threw his arms about her. “How could I ever forget you?” he said. “Yesterday, my darling, the Great Lady told me to go to the temple of Guanyin, but I would not go. I was thinking of you all the time. Today, Father has gone to drink wine, and I went to the Snow Cavern to find you, but though I waited and watched until the eyes nearly came out of my head, your dainty shadow never appeared. Now I have thrown discretion to the winds and come to you here.”
“Don’t speak so loud,” Jinlian said, “there will be trouble if you are heard.”
Suddenly, through the window, she saw Xiaoyu coming with a roll of white silk. The girl turned and went away again. “That maid must have forgotten something,” Jinlian said. “Did you see how she turned and went back?” She thought it probable that the girl would return. “You must go at once,” she said. “We can do nothing now.” Chen Jingji was made to vanish like a whiff of smoke. Jinlian was right. Yueniang had told Xiaoyu to take the silk to her so that she could draw the pattern of a skirt, but the girl had forgotten to bring the pattern and went back for it. Luckily, the maid did not catch Jinlian with Jingji. When she returned with the pattern, he had slipped away. But when Jinlian took the silk, her hands were trembling.
Ximen Qing and his friends were becoming tipsy, and he was anxious to go home. Bojue urged him to stay. He knelt down and said: “Brother, is it because you are angry with me on account of that joke I made about you that I can’t persuade you to stay?”
Ximen laughed. “You dog,” he said, “nobody bothers about what you say.”
Bojue took a large cup and filled it for Ximen Qing. Chang Zhijie offered him some fruits. Ximen thanked his host and prepared to leave. He gave Han Jinchuan a tael of silver and told Daian to give the young actors three qian each. “I am drunk,” he said as he got into his sedan chair. The two boys followed him. Bojue told the servants to clear away and dismissed the young actors. He rode back to the city beside Han Jinchuan’s sedan chair.
When Ximen Qing reached home, the sun had set. He went to sleep with Li Ping’er. The next day she said to him: “Ever since the baby was born, there has been something wrong with me. When I look in the mirror, I see how pale my face is. I never want to eat or drink, and, when I try to walk, my legs seem to give way beneath me. If it is anything serious, what will become of my baby?”
Ximen saw that she was crying. “I will send for Doctor Ren,” he said. “I am sure you will be all right when you have had some medicine.” He told Shutong to write a letter and ask Dr. Ren to come. Shutong went on the errand, and Ximen Qing went to the hall. Ying Bojue came to thank him for coming to the party the day before, and Ximen, in return, thanked him. They sat and talked. Then Shutong came and said: “Doctor Ren is here.” Ximen Qing at once went to receive him, introduced him to Ying Bojue, and the three men sat down together. Shutong brought tea.
“Kindly tell me who is ill,” Dr. Ren said.
“My sixth wife is not feeling very well. I shall be grateful if you will make a careful examination.”
“Is that the lady who had a baby?” Dr. Ren said.
“Yes,” said Ximen, “but I don’t know why she should not be well.”
“Let me go and see her,” the doctor said. Ximen Qing took him to Li Ping’er’s room. The doctor sat by the bedside, and one of the maids opened the curtains very slightly. Li Ping’er put out her right hand and rested it upon a case of books wrapped in a handkerchief.
“First, I will try the pulse,” Dr. Ren said. When he had found the place, he put three fingers on the pulse. He bent his head and examined it carefully for some time. Then he removed his hand, and Li Ping’er slowly withdrew hers. She stretched out her left hand, and laid it on the books. Dr. Ren examined it. Then he said to Ximen Qing: “I have now examined the lady’s pulse and—I am very sorry— I must see her face.”
“We are good friends,” Ximen Qing said, “there need be no difficulty about that.” He told the maids to pull the curtains aside. Dr. Ren looked at his patient. Her face was like a peach blossom, her eyebrows dark like willow leaves. He looked at her for a minute, then said to Ximen Qing: “I have seen your lady’s face, but I have not come upon any sign of anything serious. I must have more details about her illness. We doctors have to find things out from our patients themselves.”
Ximen Qing sent for Ruyi’er. She came in, dressed in her best clothes, made a reverence to the doctor and told him about her mistress’s illness: how her mouth was always parched, and how she suffered from sleeplessness. Dr.. Ren stood up and bowed. He said to Ximen Qing: “I don’t believe it is anything serious. In people of the common sort, their bodies are so tough that their blood can stand anything, and we can give them almost any kind of medicine. If we make a slight mistake, no great harm is done. But a lady like yours is more delicate. We must not allow the slightest possibility of error, for, if we give her anything that is not exactly what we should give, there may be serious danger. That is why I have to ask questions and find out what she has to say. It is essential. The other day, I went to see his Lordship Wang’s wife. Her illness was very similar to your lady’s. I asked a few questions, investigated the symptoms and examined her, and so got an excellent idea of the trouble. I went home, read some of the prescriptions of the ancients and compared them with my own ideas upon the subject. I gave her some medicine to get rid of her fever and something to strengthen her at the source of her weakness. The treatment was most effective. The lady took only three or four doses, and then she was completely recovered. His Lordship was most grateful. He sent me silks and money, and his lady sent me something too. He also sent me a special signboard and, when he gave it to me, the musicians played so loud that the sound reached the heavens. There was inscribed upon it: ‘The Learned Doctor with Miraculous Powers.’ A few days ago, a friend of mine came to see me, and he says the characters are done in the Yan style. Every character seems to stand out. When I was young, I did a great deal of reading. It was only because my family had come down in the world that I began to practice the art of medicine. I think I can prove that the title of learned doctor was not altogether undeserved.”
“I feel more satisfied now that you tell me there is nothing serious,” Ximen Qing said. “I may say, Doctor, that, though I have more than one wife, this is the only one for whom I really care. She has borne me a son and I look to her to rear him. We must not have any trouble. I have confidence in your remarkable skill. She shall be carefully looked after, and, when she gets well, you shall have a handsome fee. I am only a soldier and cannot attempt to rival his Lordship, but I know what is right and proper.”
“Since you are so kind,” Dr. Ren said, “I will not take any payment from you. Indeed I would rather that you should not even pay for the medicine.”
Ximen Qing laughed heartily. “I am not the sort of man to take medicine for nothing,” he said. “And that reminds me of a very interesting story. I once heard of a man who said that a cat with the mange can be cured by a certain black powder. Somebody asked him what would cure a mangy dog. ‘Give it some white medicine,’* the other said. So, Doctor, you see white medicine is fit only for dogs.”
Dr. Ren clapped his hands and laughed. “Then I don’t know what you will do to me if my prescription happens to be for white medicine.” They both laughed. “In that case, you will have to give me another sign instead of a fee,” Dr. Ren said. They laughed again. The doctor got up and they came away.
Footnote
* This expression also means “medicine given gratis.”
CHAPTER 55
The Imperial Tutor
When Dr. Ren had finished his examination of Li Ping’er, they went back again to the great hall and sat down. “I want you to tell me the truth,” Ximen Qing said. “What do you think of the case?”
“The lady did not take sufficient care after the birth of her child,” Dr. Ren said. �
��Now her blood is impoverished, and her face is pale. She has no appetite, and she does not care to move about. Her pulse beats strongly enough, but it is not steady. That is a symptom that her liver is inflamed and that her blood circulates irregularly. Without the most careful attention, I fear she will not get well.”
“What medicine are you thinking of giving her?” Ximen Qing asked. “The first thing to do is to break down the fever and stop the flow of blood. I shall use yellow cedar and Jinmu as the base and a few other things. I think she will be all right.”
Ximen Qing told Shutong to seal a tael of silver and give it to the doctor for the medicine. The doctor left, and shortly afterwards the medicine arrived. It was made ready in the rooms of Li Ping’er. Ximen returned to Ying Bojue.
“Li and Huang came to me this morning,” Bojue said. “They say they must have the money and asked me to plead with you to help them.”
“I suppose I must do what you wish,” Ximen said. “Tell them to come tomorrow.” He went with Ying Bojue to another room and they had something to eat.
“Is Li Guijie still here?” Bojue asked. “It seems to me that the man who went to the Eastern Capital should be back by now.”
“Yes,” Ximen said, “I want him myself. I am anxious to send him to Yangzhou. I don’t see how he can be much longer.”
After the meal, Ying Bojue went away.
The next day when Ximen Qing returned from the office, Ying Bojue was already waiting for him with Li and Huang. When he came in, they rose. Ximen went to change his clothes. He asked Wu Yueniang for the two hundred and fifty taels that Xu had paid. He added another two hundred and fifty taels and told Chen Jingji to give the money to Li and Huang. “I am really very short of money,” Ximen Qing told them, “and I am only giving you this because Brother Ying has pressed me to do so. I must have it back as soon as possible.”
The Golden Lotus, Volume 2 Page 2