Ximen was moved by the monk’s words and gladly took the appeal. He told a boy to bring tea for the monk and meanwhile looked at what was written.
A humble supplication [he read]. When, after the White Horse had borne the Sacred Books here, the Religion of the Buddha was made known, the glorious doctrines that had come from India were established in their various schools. Then all the monks of this great country were converted to the teaching of the Buddha. The Three Thousand Worlds were beautified. Now we have seen that this temple is in ruins and no longer worthy of its great name.
If we do not give alms, how shall we pride ourselves that we are disciples of the Buddha and men of virtue? This Temple of Eternal Felicity is a religious foundation of great antiquity, a holy place of sacrifice. It was built in the days of the Emperor Wu of Liang, and its founder was the Great Teacher Wanhui. In those days it had splendid proportions and was modeled upon the garden of the Buddha himself. The floor was paved with gold and the adornments were of exquisite delicacy so that it resembled the monastery of Qi Yuan. The staircases were of white jade. Lofty towers soared to the heavens. So the religious atmosphere was made manifest in the skies. The foundations were solid and the main sanctuary could contain a thousand monks. The wings were magnificent with beautiful buildings. The cloisters were spotless and the whole building was like the dwelling of the Immortals.
In those days bells and drums announced the sacred principle of the Buddha and all men said: “Here is the abode of the Buddha in this world.” The monks were learned, and it was a paradise upon earth. But now, many years have passed and things have altered. Evil monks gave way to drink and broke their vows; so fond of sleep were they and idle that they never swept their monastery. Gradually it declined; the number of the monks decreased. It became a desert place, and few came to worship there.
Snakes and rats made their holes in the walls; wind and rain wore them away. Pillars and walls, one after another, fell. The monks did nothing to repair them, and the place crumbled into ruin. Day succeeded day, year followed year, and none thought to restore the buildings. Instead, the painted balustrades and panels were burned by the monks themselves to heat wine and tea; great pillars and beams were taken to exchange for salt and rice. The weather tarnished the gold upon the Lohan’s body; the rain streamed upon the Buddhas, and their bodies crumbled into dust. Alas, thus was so gorgeous and beautiful a place, a treasure-house of gold and color, transformed into a desert of weeds and brambles. Things prosper for a while and then decay, yet prosperity will return when ill fortune has done its worst.
This monk can no longer bear to see the ruin of the House of Buddha. He has sworn a great oath that he will go to all good people for their charity and stimulate their generous feelings. Whether they give a column, a beam, or simply wood; whatever it is, their names shall be remembered forever. Whether they contribute silver or cloth, whatever we receive, their names shall be entered upon the roll of benefactors.
Trusting in the might and the wisdom of the Buddha, we call down blessings upon all good people that they may prosper forever. We have confidence in the All-knowingness that father, son and grandson shall obtain high office and that their household shall be continued forever. They shall beget wise sons who shall bring repute upon their families; their gold shall be piled as high as mountains and, whatever they ask for, it shall be granted them.
You to whom this shall come, may the spirit of parsimony depart from you.
When Ximen Qing had finished reading, he laid the writing on the table very carefully.
“Though I cannot call myself a rich man,” he said to the monk, “I have a few thousands. I am a military officer, and for long no son was born to me. Last year, my sixth wife bore a child and I was content. The other day I happened to come to your monastery to take leave of some friends, and I thought then of giving money for the restoration. It is good of you to come and see me. I shall not refuse.”
He took a brush and wondered how much he should put down. Ying Bojue said: “Brother, since you seem so well disposed, why not pay the whole cost? I’m sure it would not be too much for you.”
Ximen Qing laughed, the brush in his hand. “No,” he said, “I cannot do that.”
Bojue said: “Well, at least a thousand.”
Again Ximen Qing laughed. “No, that’s too much.”
Then the monk spoke. “Noble sir,” he said, “we monks of Buddha never press people to give. We take whatever they choose to give us. Write what you can afford. I only ask that you will commend the cause to your relatives and friends.”
“You speak with wisdom, Master,” Ximen said, “I will not give less than five hundred.” This sum he wrote down. The monk thanked him. “All the eunuchs and officers of the prefecture and the district are friends of mine. Go and see them. I am sure they will put down three hundred, two hundred, one hundred, or at least fifty, and you will certainly be able to restore your monastery.” He gave the monk some vegetarian food and saw him to the door.
When he returned to the hall, he said to Ying Bojue: “I was just wishing to see you when you came. When I came back from the Eastern Capital, my friends and relatives gave parties in my honor. Today I am making a return and I should like you to stay. The monk interrupted us.”
“A good monk that,” Bojue said. “Certainly a very holy man. I was quite touched while he was talking to you, and even I made my little contribution.”
“What did you contribute?” Ximen Qing asked. “I didn’t see you write it down.”
Bojue laughed. “Ah, Brother,” he said, “I fear that you do not understand. The Sacred Scriptures tell us that good will is the finest form of charity; then the teaching of religion; and, last of all, the giving of alms. Did I not urge you to give him money? That was charity of the first order.”
Ximen Qing laughed. “You certainly did, but I don’t believe there was any particular good will about it.”
They both laughed. “I will stay until your guests come,” Bojue said. “If you have anything to attend to, please don’t mind me, but go and discuss it with your lady.” Ximen left Bojue and went to the inner court. Jinlian was grumbling there, but he paid no attention. She yawned and went to her room to sleep.
Li Ping’er, Ruyi’er, and the maids were trying to amuse Guan’ge, who was crying. Yueniang and Sun Xue’e were superintending the cooks in the kitchen. Ximen Qing went to them and told them about the monk and the contribution he had made. He also told them the joke Ying Bojue had made. They laughed.
Yueniang was a good woman. She said something to Ximen Qing that touched him deeply.
“Brother,” she said, “you have been blessed by Heaven. A son has been born to you. Now you have had this generous idea of giving your money and the whole household will be the better for it. But the more good ideas the better, while evil ideas should be uprooted utterly. Brother, in days past you have not been all that you ought to have been. You have gone after whores and behaved improperly. This must stop. Then you will grow in virtue, and it will be better for your son.”
Ximen Qing laughed. “That’s a nice way to talk. And you’re quite wrong. The world is based upon the interaction of the male and female principles, and it is natural for men and women to be drawn together. Any irregular little affair that may happen in this present life was predetermined in a former one. It is all written down in the register of marriages. One cannot say that anything we do is out of depravity and evil passion. Besides, they tell me that gold is not despised, even in Paradise, and, in the ten regions of Hell, money is at a premium. So, if we are generous in almsgiving now, it won’t do us any harm if we debauch the angels and run off with the daughters of the Mother of the Gods.”
Yueniang laughed. “Dogs eat filth and think it’s nice. They can’t change their habits, because they are made that way.”
They were still laughing when the two nuns, Wang and Xue, came in with a bowl. They greeted Yueniang and Ximen Qing. Yueniang asked them to sit down.
&nb
sp; Nun Xue was not one who had been brought up in a convent from her youth. She had been a married woman, and her husband had sold buns outside a temple. But the business did not prosper, and she started a business of greater profit with the monks of the temple. Five or six of them enjoyed her favors. They used to send her bread and other things that the faithful had given them for sacrifice. They gave her money for ornaments and cloth that pious donors had presented to the temple, and she used the cloth to make shoes for her feet. All this was without her husband’s knowledge. When he died, as she had developed a keen enthusiasm for monasticism, she became a nun. She sent about conducting services in pious households and assisting wicked women in their unlawful love affairs. Seeing that Ximen Qing was a wealthy man with several wives, she favored his household with very frequent visits, hoping always to get more money.
The Buddhist nuns, of course, have not a hair
Upon their heads.
Night after night, they sport with the monks.
Three bald heads
The teacher and his two disciples.
What are the little cymbals doing on the bed?
Nun Xue sat down and opened a small box. “We have really nothing to offer you,” she said, “but I have brought a few fruits that have been offered to Buddha. They are perfectly fresh.”
“It is good of you to come at all,” Yueniang said. “There is no reason why you should trouble to bring presents.”
Jinlian woke up and heard somebody talking. She thought it must be Ximen Qing again with Li Ping’er, and she got up to peep at them. But Li Ping’er was playing with the baby. When she knew that the two nuns were there, she determined to ask their advice about the child and went to Yueniang’s room. When she had come and greeted the nuns, Ximen told them about the monk who had come to ask for alms. Jinlian was annoyed and went off muttering to herself.
When Xue had listened to Ximen Qing, she rose and made a reverence to him. “With generosity such as yours,” she said, “you must assuredly live a thousand years. You will have five sons and two daughters and they will live together with you. I have a suggestion to make. It will cost you very little, and it will make you even more prosperous. If you accept this suggestion, even old Gautama who lived an ascetic life upon the Mountains of Snow, or the great Kāśyapa who could sweep the ground with his beard, or the Second Great Teacher who cut himself to shreds to feed a tiger, or old Ji Gu who poured the yellow gold upon the ground, will not be able to rival you in merit.”
Ximen Qing laughed. “Sit down, most worthy Sister,” he said. “Tell me what I must do and I will do it.”
“Our Lord Buddha,” the nun began, “has given us the Dharani Sutra to teach men the way to Paradise. Because those who see with the eyes of the flesh do not truly see and cannot truly believe, the Lord Buddha gave this teaching urging men to serve him faithfully that so they may attain to Paradise and escape from the turning of the wheel. The Buddha said: He who reads this book or prints it for others to read shall receive blessings unbounded. And in that book are charms for the protection of children. If people would engender boys and girls, first they should secure this text and recite it. Then their children will be easy to rear. No calamities will fall on them and blessings will be showered upon them. I know that the type of this book still exists but no one has reprinted it. Now, my lord, if you will spend a little money and print a few thousand copies, they can be sewn and distributed and you will have done a truly meritorious work.”
“I see no objection,” Ximen said, “but first I must know how much the paper, the printing, and the binding will cost. Tell me that, and I will have the work done.”
“My lord,” Nun Xue said, “there is no need for you to be troubled with such details. Nine taels of silver will do to begin with. The printer can print a few thousand copies and, when the binding is finished, you can pay whatever else is needed.”
Meanwhile Chen Jingji was looking for Ximen Qing. He came to the arbor, and there had the good fortune to find Jinlian. When she saw him, it was as though a cat suddenly espied a fish. Her melancholy disappeared at once, and the soft winds of Spring brought color to her face. They saw that no one was about, held each other’s hands and kissed, but they feared lest Ximen Qing might suddenly appear and were like a couple of rats, glancing about on one side and another as though they watched for the cat. They realized that there was no possibility for them to go further. Chen Jingji ran away without telling Ximen Qing what he had come to say.
After hearing what Nun Xue had to say, Ximen was once more persuaded. He told Daian to take thirty taels of silver from a box and gave them to the nuns. “I will have five thousand copies printed,” he said. “When the work is done, I will check the accounts.”
Then Shutong came and said that all the guests had arrived. There were Uncle Wu, Uncle Hua, Xie Xida, Chang Zhijie and the others. Ximen hastily dressed and came out to see them. He ordered tables to be set and they took their places in due order. Then fish, meats and fruits were brought. Those who were present were all good friends, so formal politeness was dispensed with. They guessed fingers and played all sorts of games. Some of them sang songs. They all heartily enjoyed themselves.
CHAPTER 58
Zheng Aiyue
Ximen Qing drank wine with his friends and relatives and got very drunk. When the party was over, he went to Sun Xue’e’s room. She was in the kitchen watching everything being cleared away, but, when she heard that Ximen had gone to her room, she hurried away. Miss Yu was in her room. Xue’e asked her to go to Wu Yueniang’s room, where she could share a bed with Yuxiao and the other maid. There were only three rooms in Xue’e’s apartment. One had a couch and another a kang or stove bed. It was more than a year since Ximen Qing had visited her. She quickly took his clothes and put them on a chair. Then she made the bed, washed herself with perfumed water, and went to make him some tea. When he had drunk it, they took off their clothes and went to bed.
The next day was the twenty-eighth, Ximen’s birthday. When he had burned some paper offerings, a boy called Hu Xiu came with a message from Han Daoguo. The servants told Ximen Qing, and Ximen gave orders that he should be brought to the hall. He asked the boy where the boat was. Hu Xiu gave him a letter with some accounts. “Uncle Han has bought silk in Hangzhou worth ten thousand taels,” he said. “He has brought it as far as Linqing and there he is waiting for money to pay the duty. Without it, he can’t bring the goods to the city.”
When Ximen Qing had read the letter and looked at the accounts, he was delighted. He ordered Qitong to give Hu Xiu something to eat and told the boy that, when he had done, he must go and take the news to Master Qiao. He himself went to see Yueniang. “Han,” he said, “has arrived at Linqing and he has sent this boy Hu Xiu with the statements. We must get busy clearing the house opposite. We can store the goods there, and I must look about for a man to take charge of the shop.”
“Yes,” Yueniang said, “there is no time to lose. It is late enough already.”
“I will talk to Brother Ying about it when he comes,” Ximen said. When Bojue came, Ximen took him to the hall and explained the situation.
“I came to congratulate you on your birthday,” Bojue said. “But now that your goods have come, I have still further reason to congratulate you. Their arrival on such a day is a good omen. You say you need a man. I happen to have an old friend who is the very fellow for you. He knows the silk trade inside out, but he has had bad luck and is out of employment at the moment. He is about forty years old. He is a good judge of silver; he can write and keep accounts, and all things considered, he is an excellent business man. His name is Gan and his second name Chushen. He lives in a house of his own in Stone Bridge Alley.”
“Splendid!” Ximen Qing said. “Tell him to come and see me tomorrow.”
Li Ming, Wu Hui and Zheng Feng came and kowtowed. In a short time the other musicians followed them. They were entertained in one of the side rooms. Then one of the servants came and said he had been t
o summon the singing girls. “But I cannot get Zheng Aiyue to come,” he said. “Her old woman says she was all dressed and ready to start, when somebody came from the princely family of Wang and took her away. So I only got Qi Xiang’er, Dong Jiao’er and Hong Si’er.”
“What rubbish!” Ximen Qing declared. “Not come indeed! and why not?” He turned to Zheng Feng. “What does your sister mean by refusing to come? Is it true that anybody from Wang’s place took her away?”
Zheng Feng knelt down. “I do not live at home,” he said, “I know nothing about it.”
“She thinks if she says she is going to sing at Wang’s place, that will settle the matter and I shall not be able to touch her.” Then he said to Daian: “Take my card and two soldiers and go to Wang’s. Ask for the young lord Wang. Tell him that I am entertaining a few guests here today and that Zheng Aiyue promised to come. We should be very much obliged if he would see that she does come. If there is any demur, arrest the old woman and throw her into jail. Let her see how she likes that.” He told Zheng Feng to go too. The boy dared not refuse, and went out with Daian.
“Brother,” Zheng Feng said to Daian, “you go in, and I’ll wait outside. I have no doubt that my lord Wang did send for her, but perhaps she has not gone yet. If she has not, tell her she really must come with us.”
“If she has gone to Wang’s place, I shall take my master’s card there,” Daian said, “but if she is still at home, you had better go and tell your mother to dress her quickly and we will all go back together. I will say what I can for you to Father, and it will be all right. You don’t understand him. When he was at Master Xia’s place, he arranged with her to come, and he is naturally annoyed when she does not turn up.” Zheng Feng went home and Daian, with the two soldiers, followed him.
The Golden Lotus, Volume 2 Page 6