The Golden Lotus, Volume 2

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  Ximen Qing kept on denying. “You funny little slave,” he said, laughing, “why do you talk such nonsense? There is nothing at all between us. Besides, her husband was there today, and I did not even see her.”

  “You are lying again,” Jinlian said. “Everybody knows her husband is a barefaced pander. He is the sort of man who guards his sheep and goes picking tinder at the same time. He lets you have his wife and takes your money. You silly fellow, you can only hear guns forty li away.”

  Ximen Qing undressed and sat down on the bed. Jinlian stretched out her arm and pulled down his trousers. She touched his staff. It was soft. The clasp was still about it.

  “Oh, you dried duck, boiled in a cauldron!” she cried. “Your body may be exhausted, but your mouth is never so. Look at this gentleman! Not a word to say for himself! Now, you villain. How dare you play tricks with that strumpet all this time? See the state you’ve brought him to! And your mouth is as assured as ever. Will you take an oath? I will tell Chunmei to bring a cup of cold water. If you dare drink it, I will believe you. Salt is salt, and vinegar is vinegar all the world over. But I need not tell you that. You are like a bald-headed man putting on a wig. If I let you do as you would like to do, there won’t be a woman in the world safe from you. You shameless scoundrel! It is a good thing you are a man. If you were a woman, you would be carrying on with every man in the street.”

  Ximen Qing laughed. He could not think of anything to say. He got ready for bed and told Chunmei to heat some wine. Then he took a pill from the little gold box, swallowed it and lay down on the bed.

  “My dear,” he said, “taste it. If you bring it to life again, good for you.”

  Jinlian swore she would do nothing of the sort. “You filthy creature! And it has just been busy in that dirty strumpet’s mill. If I did a thing as foul as that, it would kill me.

  “You funny little whore,” Ximen said, “don’t talk nonsense. I tell you I have had nothing to do with her.”

  “If you have not, why won’t you take an oath?”

  The argument continued for some time. Finally, she invited Ximen Qing to wash. He would not. She took a handkerchief from under the pillow and wiped his penis, then took it in her mouth so that it soon regained its fire. Ximen mounted her fiercely and began; pressing her legs with his arms, he moved his penis noisily. The candle gleamed; he rejoiced at the sight. She lay on the bed and moved up to meet him, arousing his passion still more. He put some of his red powder onto his prick, which he pushed in again. Gripping her legs, he thrust three hundred times. Jinlian’s eyes closed and she began to tremble. “Darling,” she whispered, “you must do no more. You should not have put the powder on him.”

  “Now, little strumpet,” Ximen Qing cried, “are you afraid of me or not? Will you ever treat me disrespectfully again?”

  “Darling, forgive me,” Jinlian said. “I will never dare to talk like that again. Don’t thrust so roughly, you will make my hair untidy.”

  They played happily far into the night, till at last they were tired and went to sleep.

  On the day of the Double Ninth festival, the ninth day of the ninth month, Ximen Qing said to Wu Yueniang: “A day or two ago, when I was drinking wine with Han Daoguo, I saw a certain Miss Shen. She is good-looking and she sings well. I will send a boy for her and she shall stay a few days to sing for you.” He told the cooks to prepare a feast, and tables were set in the garden in the Hall of the Lovely Prospect. There Ximen and his household kept the festival. Wang Jing brought Miss Shen. She kowtowed to all the ladies. Yueniang thought her very pretty and asked how many songs she knew. Miss Shen said she knew a great many. Yueniang offered her some refreshments and asked her to sing for a while in the inner court before she went to the garden.

  Ximen Qing did not go to the office that day. He superintended the planting of the Qiujus and invited the ladies to go to the garden. Chunmei, Yuxiao, Yingchun and Lanxiang were there to serve the wine. Miss Shen sang, and accompanied herself on the lute.

  Li Ping’er, who was still anything but well, did not come until she had been sent for several times. She was indeed not fit to come; her body was so weak that the wind might have blown her over. Everybody asked her to drink, but she could take only a little. Ximen Qing and Yueniang, seeing her so melancholy, did their best to encourage her. “Sister,” they said, “you must cheer up. We have brought Miss Shen to sing for you.”

  “Tell her any song you like,” Meng Yulou said. But Li Ping’er did not answer them.

  While they were drinking, Wang Jing came and said that Ying Bojue and Chang Zhijie had come. “Tell them to wait for me in the small arbor,” Ximen said, “I will be there in a minute.”

  “Uncle Chang has brought two boxes,” Wang Jing said.

  “He has brought me some presents because I have helped him to get a house,” Ximen said to Yueniang.

  “We must see about something for them to eat,” Yueniang said. “We can’t allow them to go away with empty stomachs. You go to them, and I will arrange for them to have some food.”

  Before Ximen left the ladies, he said to Miss Shen: “Sing the best of all your songs for the Sixth Lady.” Then he went to see Bojue.

  “Sister,” Jinlian said to Li Ping’er, “tell Miss Shen what song you would like. Father sent for her specially on your account, and you must choose something.”

  Li Ping’er asked for the song “Red Dust in the Purple Street.”

  “Yes, I know it,” Miss Shen said. She took up her lute and sang it with particular care. When the song was done, Yueniang said: “Sister, drink a cup of this wine. It is beautifully sweet.” Li Ping’er could hardly refuse. She took a cup and drank a mouthful, no more. Soon she felt too ill to stay and went back to her room.

  Ximen Qing went to the Hall of the Kingfisher. Ying Bojue and Chang Zhijie were standing beside a pine thicket admiring the chrysanthemums. Twenty pots of the most renowned blooms stood there, all more than seven feet high. Among them were such famous flowers as Scarlet Cloak, Doctor’s Red, Purple Cloak, Golden Girdle, White Fenshi and Yellow Fenshi, and many others. Bojue and Chang Zhijie came forward and made a reverence to Ximen Qing, then Chang called the man who had come with him to bring the boxes.

  “What is this?” Ximen Qing said.

  Bojue answered. “Brother Chang,” he said, “is eager to express his sense of your kindness in helping him to get a house. He had nothing to give you, but his wife has prepared this box of crabs and a couple of roast ducks and he asked me to come with him so that we can enjoy them together.”

  “Brother Chang,” Ximen Qing said, “there was no need for you to trouble. Your wife is only just better. She should not have bothered to cook these things.”

  “I told him so,” Ying Bojue said, “but he thought it would be better than anything else he could get.”

  Ximen Qing told a boy to open the box. There were forty large crabs, ready dressed with peppers, ginger, garlic and herbs, and prepared with oil, sauce and vinegar. They smelled very tasty and promised excellent eating. The two roast ducks were done in the most attractive style. Ximen Qing told Chunhong and Wang Jing to take them to the kitchen. He gave a small present to the porter and thanked Chang Zhijie. Qintong raised the lattice and they went into the Hall of the Kingfisher. Bojue could not find words to express his admiration of the chrysanthemums. He asked where they had come from. “Eunuch Liu, the warden of the brick kilns, sent me these twenty pots,” Ximen told him. “Not only the plants but the pots as well.”

  “Indeed!” said Bojue. “They are the genuine official pottery too. The clay is of the highest quality: it is put through the finest of sieves and pressed by the workmen’s feet. That is how such flower pots as these are made. They are made like Suzhou bricks, and they are by no means easy to get hold of these days.”

  Ximen Qing called for tea. “Brother Chang,” he said, “when did you move into your new house?”

  Bojue answered: “He moved in three days after the money was paid. Yes
terday was a lucky day. He bought a number of things, and opened a small shop. Mistress Chang’s younger brother keeps the books.”

  “We must buy presents and celebrate the occasion,” Ximen said. “We don’t want a crowd of people, Xie Xida perhaps, and you and I will arrange for food to be taken to Brother Chang’s house, so that he may not be put to any expense. We will engage two singing girls and have a merry housewarming.”

  “I should have invited you myself,” Chang said, “but I did not dare. The house is so small I thought you would not like it.”

  “Not at all!” Ximen said, “we don’t wish you to spend your money. I will send word to Xie Xida myself.” He said to Qintong: “Go and ask your Uncle Xie to come and see me.”

  “Which singing girls are you going to send for?” Ying Bojue asked.

  Ximen Qing laughed. “Oh, Zheng Aiyue and Hong Si’er, I think.”

  “Brother,” Bojue said, “you didn’t wish to tell me which two girls you would have, but I guessed. Now what do you think of Zheng Aiyue? Is she more tasty than Li Guijie?”

  “There is none better,” Ximen said.

  “Why wouldn’t she talk to us on your birthday?” Bojue asked. “It seems to me she is a very cunning girl.”

  “Next time I go to see her,” Ximen said, “I will take you with me. She and her sister play backgammon very well, and we will have a game with them.”

  “By all means,” Bojue said. “I will certainly go and have a game with the young lady. I don’t intend to let her off altogether.”

  “You naughty dog,” said Ximen, “don’t play your tricks on her.”

  Xie Xida came, made a reverence, and sat down. “Brother Chang has just bought a new house,” Ximen said to him. “He has moved into it without a word to us. I suggest that we all contribute a small sum and I will have a feast prepared here and send it around to his house. We will engage two singing girls and have a gay time there. But he must not be put to any expense.”

  “Brother,” Xie Xida said, “you have only to say the word and the money shall be sent to you at once. Will anyone else be at the party?”

  “Nobody else,” Ximen Qing said. “Each of us will give two pieces of silver.”

  “His place is not very big,” Bojue said. “It will not hold many people.”

  Then Qintong came and said that Uncle Wu had come. Ximen told the boy to bring him in. Uncle Wu made reverence to the three guests, then to Ximen Qing, and sat down. A boy brought fresh tea, and they drank it together. Then Uncle Wu rose and said to Ximen Qing: “Brother, will you come with me to the inner court for a moment? I should like to speak to you.” Ximen Qing got up, and they went to the inner court together. They went to Yueniang’s room, but she was in the arbor with the other ladies drinking wine and listening to Miss Shen singing. When she was told that her brother had come, she went back to her room and told Xiaoyu to bring tea.

  Uncle Wu took ten taels of silver from his sleeve and gave them to Yueniang. “I have only had three pieces of silver from the office,” he said, “so I can only pay my brother these ten taels. I shall have to pay the remainder by degrees.”

  “There is no hurry about it, Brother-in-law,” Ximen Qing said.

  “I am afraid I am very late already,” Uncle Wu said.

  Ximen Qing asked him if the work upon the granary was finished. “There is still another month’s work to be done,” Uncle Wu told him.

  “Well,” said Ximen, “when it is complete, you will reap your reward.”

  “Brother-in-law,” Uncle Wu said, “this year, I understand, a number of military officials are to be appointed. I hope you will do anything you can for me by way of recommendation.”

  “Certainly,” Ximen Qing said, “anything I can do for you, I will.”

  “You will go to the outer court, Brother?” Yueniang said.

  “Perhaps I had better not go,” Uncle Wu said. “The other three gentlemen may have business to transact.”

  “No,” Ximen said, “a short time ago, Brother Chang borrowed a few taels from me and took a new house. He has just moved into it, and today he brought me a present of food, and I asked them to stay and enjoy it. You will be very welcome.” He took Uncle Wu to the outer court. Yueniang went and bade the cooks get food ready for them. Qintong and Wang Jing prepared the table. Ximen Qing gave orders that the cellar should be opened and a jar of chrysanthemum wine brought. It had been given to him by Magistrate Xia. The wine was brought and opened. It was pale green in color and very sweet. Before it was poured into the wine pot, a jar of cold water was mixed with it to make it milder. It had a very delicate flavor, finer than that of grape wine.

  Ximen Qing told Wang Jing to give a small cup to Uncle Wu, then to Ying Bojue and the others. They sipped it and spoke of it appreciatively. Then food was brought, and after they had had some, the crabs and roast ducks were served. Ying Bojue urged Uncle Wu to eat freely. Xie Xida was astounded: he could not imagine how they could be made so tasty and tender.

  “They are a present from Brother Chang,” Ximen Qing said.

  “I have lived to be fifty-two years old,” Uncle Wu said, “and never in all my life have I known crabs cooked in this way to be so good.”

  “Brother,” Ying Bojue said, “have you given the ladies a taste?”

  “I have,” said Ximen.

  “Mistress Chang’s cooking is really marvelous,” said Bojue.

  Chang Zhijie smiled. “Oh,” said he, “my poor wife does not really cook very well. I brought these things thinking perhaps they might afford a little pleasure.”

  They enjoyed their crabs with the wine while, at Ximen Qing’s bidding, Chunhong and Shutong sang Southern melodies. Bojue thought he heard music. “Is Li Guijie here?” he said. “Who else can be playing like that?”

  “Listen again,” Ximen Qing said.

  “If it is not Guijie, it must be Wu Yin’er.”

  “You are guessing, Beggar Ying,” Ximen said. “This girl is blind.”

  “It must be Miss Yu, then?” Bojue said.

  “No, it is a Miss Shen. She is young and pretty and an excellent singer.”

  “Then why not tell her to sing a song for us?”

  “I brought her here to sing for the ladies,” Ximen said. “Your ears are very sharp if you can hear all this way off.”

  “Yes, my eyes are so clear that they can see a thousand li and my ears can hear a bee buzzing forty li away.”

  “Beggar,” Xie Xida said, “you ears are as sharp as a rabbit’s. Of course you can hear.”

  Then Bojue said: “Brother, you really must send for her. I should like to see her. Tell her to sing just one song for Uncle Wu. You can’t refuse, for his sake.”

  At last, Ximen Qing told Wang Jing to go and ask Miss Shen to come and sing for Uncle Wu. She came, kowtowed, and sat down. Bojue asked her age and she told him she was twenty-one. Then he asked how many songs she knew and she said she knew a number for lute accompaniment, and more than a hundred short songs. “That is not bad,” Bojue said.

  “Miss Shen,” Ximen Qing said, “we do not wish to put you to any trouble, but will you be good enough to take your lute and sing for us ‘The Four Dreams and the Eight Spaces’?” He told Wang Jing to fill up his guests’ glasses. Miss Shen played and sang sweetly.

  When Li Ping’er reached her apartment, she went to wash her hands. Suddenly, the blood gushed from her, and her eyes were dazzled. She got up as quickly as she could, and pulled up her skirts, then fainted and struck the ground with her head. Yingchun was there and did what she could, but Li Ping’er hurt herself. Yingchun and Ruyi’er got her to bed. She lay there unconscious. Yingchun was frightened and told her fellow maid to go for Yueniang. All the ladies hurried to see what was amiss. Yingchun and the nurse were on the bed, holding up Li Ping’er.

  “She was quite well a moment ago,” Wu Yueniang said. “What has happened to make her like this?” Yingchun showed her the chamber pot.

  Yueniang was startled. “Perhaps,” s
he said, “the blood has flowed more freely because of the wine she drank.”

  “But she only drank a little,” Meng Yulou and Pan Jinlian said together. They made ginger broth and poured it down her throat, but it was a long time before she came around and was able to speak to them.

  “Sister,” Yueniang said, “what is the matter?”

  “Nothing very much,” Li Ping’er said. “I got up and pulled up my skirt. Then my eyes seemed to go black. Everything whirled round and round, and I couldn’t keep myself from falling.”

  Yueniang was going to tell Daian to go for his master and also for Dr. Ren, but Li Ping’er said: “No, don’t say anything about it. I should not like to disturb their party.”

  Yueniang told Yingchun to straighten the coverlets and help Li Ping’er to go to bed. She and the other ladies gave up their amusements and went to their own rooms.

  Uncle Wu and the others stayed until the evening, then Ximen Qing went to Yueniang’s room. She told him how Li Ping’er had fainted. Ximen went at once to see her. She was lying, pale as wax, upon the bed. She held him by the sleeve and cried. He asked her what the trouble was. “As soon as I came in,” she said, “the blood poured from me like water. Then I fainted.”

  Ximen saw that her head was slightly bruised. “What were the maids doing to let you fall and hurt your face?” he said.

  “It was a very good thing for me the maid and the nurse could come to my help,” Li Ping’er said. “If they hadn’t, I should have been very much worse hurt.”

  “I will send for Doctor Ren the first thing in the morning,” Ximen said. He spent the night in her room, sleeping on another bed.