The deceased lady was generous and kind. She managed her household prudently. She governed those in subjection to her with sympathy and goodwill. She was, in truth, the very acme of perfection in womanhood and her good fame was on the lips of all who lived about her. Most glorious of women, most fragrant of blossoms!
When she married, she lived in absolute harmony with her lord. To him she bore a son with the brightness of a river pearl. We trusted that they might live together in married blessedness until a ripe old age, but, suddenly, she fell ill and vanished like a dream.
How shall we restrain our grief when we realize the departure of a lady so estimable? My little daughter is still in her mother’s arms, yet she is the bond between this departed lady and ourselves. It was the will of heaven that the marriage should never be consummated. We must live in different worlds, and we shall never meet again.
With this cup I would express all my love and sincerity. May she who is gone know this, come, and enjoy it!
After this offering, the gentlemen were taken to the temporary building and entertained. Then the ladies came. Mistress Qiao, Mistress Cui, President Zhu’s wife, Scholar Shang’s wife and Miss Duan came to make their offering to the dead. Drums and gongs were beaten, and a number of dancers dressed as spirits performed before the coffin. Yueniang accompanied the ladies and afterwards took them to the inner court and gave them tea. Then they were entertained.
While Ximen Qing was drinking with the others, he suddenly heard the funeral gong being sounded, and a servant hurried in to say that the prefect Hu had come and his sedan chair was waiting at the gate. Ximen Qing, wearing his mourning robes, went to the coffin to await his guest, and asked Master Wen to dress and go to receive the prefect. Servants came in with incense and paper offerings, and, behind them, the prefect in plain dress and gold-buckled girdle. A number of officials followed him, some to hold his robes, others to adjust his girdle, and so on. When the prefect came to the coffin, Chunhong knelt and offered him incense. The prefect took it and burned it before the body, twice making a reverence.
“I pray your Excellency to rise,” Ximen Qing said. “I am very grateful to you.” He made reverence in return.
“I only heard yesterday that your lady had died,” the prefect said. “I am sorry I come so late.”
“My wife’s illness was incurable,” Ximen said. “It is very good of you to come.”
Master Wen was with them. They went to the hall and offered the prefect a cup of tea. Then he went away, Master Wen accompanying him to the gate.
That day the people who came to make offerings to the dead did not leave until the evening. The next day Zheng Aiyue came and burned paper offerings before the coffin. Yueniang saw that the girl made an offering of eight plates of cakes and three of other refreshments, and she called for a white silk skirt for the girl. Li Guijie and Wu Yin’er each made an offering of three qian. Yueniang told Ximen Qing, and he said: “Give each of them a silk skirt, no matter what they offer.” Yueniang took them to the inner court, and there they had tea. In the evening, a number of friends and kinsmen came to spend the night. A troop of actors had been engaged and were waiting to perform their plays. Li Ming, Wu Hui, Zheng Feng and Zheng Chun were with them. Ximen Qing had fifteen tables arranged for his guests in the temporary building. Master Qiao was there, the two uncles Wu, Uncle Hua, Uncle Shen, Uncle Han, the two scholars Ni and Wen, Dr. Ren, Li and Huang, Ying Bojue, Xie Xida, Zhu Shinian, Sun Guozui, Bai Laiguang, Chang Zhijie, the clerks Fu, Han, and Gan, Ben the Fourth, the two nephews of Wu Shun, and six or seven others. The tables were all large, and more than ten great candles were lighted. The ladies were near the coffin, hidden from the view of the guests by screens and hangings, but so that they could watch the play.
All the guests made reverence to the dead, and Ximen Qing and Chen Jingji made reverence in return. Then everybody sat down and the actors and musicians began to play. The first play was the Romance of Wei Gao and Yuxiao, and their betrothal in two generations. First upon the stage came the hero Wei Gao and sang, then the heroine, Yuxiao, and she sang, too. The cooks brought soup and rice and meat and goose. Ying Bojue said to Ximen Qing: “I hear that the three young ladies from the bawdy-house are here. Why not ask them to come and offer a cup of wine to Master Qiao and the two Masters Wu? It is too great an indulgence to let them simply stay and listen to the play.”
Ximen Qing would have told Daian to bring the girls, but Qiao said: “We can’t do that. They have come to make offering to the dead, and we can’t ask them to serve wine.”
“Sir,” Bojue said, “you are mistaken. Little whores of their sort must not be allowed to be idle.” He turned to Daian. “Go at once and drag them out. Tell them: Uncle Ying says that, although you have come to pay your due respects to the Sixth Lady, you must come and do something for us as well.”
Daian went, but he soon came back. “They say they will not come if Uncle Ying is here.”
“In that case I must go myself,” Bojue said. He stood up, walked two steps and sat down again.
Ximen Qing laughed. “Why have you come back?” he said.
“I had it in mind to go myself and fetch those little whores,” Bojue said. “But wait till I think what I’m going to say, and then I’ll go and let them have a piece of my mind.” After a while, he told Daian to go again and ask them.
The three girls came slowly. They were all wearing white silk gowns and blue skirts. They greeted the company, then stood smiling.
“Since we are here, why didn’t you come at once?” Bojue asked them. They did not answer. They served all the gentlemen with wine and then sat down together at one table. The music began again. Wei Gao and Bao Zhiben had come together to Yuxiao’s house, and her mother had come out to welcome them.
Bao Zhiben said: “Go and fetch the girl out,” and the old woman replied:
“Master Bao, you are lacking in courtesy. My daughter is not at every man’s disposal. You should say, not: ‘Fetch her out,’ but, ‘Please ask her if she will be so good as to come out.’”
This made Li Guijie laugh. “Master Bao,” she said, “was like Beggar Ying. He did not know how to behave.”
“You little whore,” Bojue said, “if I don’t know how to behave, why is your mother so much attached to me?”
“She is attached to you the other way around,” said Guijie.
“Attend to the play,” Ximen Qing said to them. “If you talk any more, you will have to be fined.” Bojue kept silence.
The play went on. In the great hall, on one side of the large screen, sat the two aunts Wu, Aunt Yang, old woman Pan, another Aunt Wu, Aunt Meng, Miss Zheng and Miss Duan, with the ladies of Ximen’s household. On the other side were Chunmei, Yuxiao, Lanxiang, Yingchun and Xiaoyu. They stood in a group and watched the play. A maid passed with a plate of fruits and a pot of tea. Chunmei stopped her and said: “For whom are you taking the tea?”
“The ladies on the other side want some,” the maid replied.
Chunmei took a cup for herself. Xiaoyu had observed that the girl in the play was called Yuxiao. She took hold of her fellow maid and said to her: “You little whore! See, two men have come to visit you, and your wicked old woman wishes you to welcome them. Why don’t you go?” She pushed Yuxiao, and she stumbled over Chunmei. Chunmei was holding the cup of tea in her hands and she spilled it over her clothes.
“What are you doing, spilling the tea all over me!” Chunmei cried. “It is only a matter of luck that you didn’t make me break the teacup.”
Ximen Qing heard the noise and sent Daian to see who was making it. The boy saw Chunmei sitting on a chair. “Go and tell our master,” she said, “that that whore Yuxiao got quite out of control when she saw the man on the stage.”
Ximen Qing heard what was said, but he was too much occupied to think about it. Yueniang came and scolded Yuxiao. “What have you been doing here all this time?” she said. “You ought to have gone to see who is in my room. Do you know who is there?”
“Yes,” Yuxiao said, “your daughter has gone to the inner court, and the two nuns are in our room.”
“There is always trouble if I let you stay and watch the plays,” Yueniang said.
Then Chunmei, seeing Yueniang, rose and said: “Mother, you might think they were crazy. They seem to have forgotten both their senses and their manners. They laugh and talk and never trouble in the least whether the guests see them or not.”
Yueniang scolded them again and went back to her place.
Master Qiao and Scholar Ni were the first to go away. Uncle Shen, Uncle Han and Dr. Ren were about to follow their example, but Ying Bojue stopped them. “Host,” he said to Ximen Qing, “you must speak to them. I am only a friend, but I am not going yet. They are your relatives and they ought to stay. Uncle Shen lives within the walls. Even if Uncles Han and Hua and Doctor Ren live outside the city, it is so late now that they can’t get out, so what’s the use of their hurrying? Come back all of you and sit down. Besides, the play is not finished.”
Ximen Qing told the boys to get four jars of Magu wine. When it was brought, he said: “We won’t keep this any longer.” He took a large cup, set it before Uncle Wu and said: “He who tries to break up this party shall be punished by Uncle Wu.” So they all sat down again, and Ximen Qing bade Shutong tell the actors to perform the most lively part of their play. The music began, and one of the actors came to ask whether they should play the scene in which the portrait is painted. “I don’t care what it is,” Ximen Qing said, “but let it be something lively.”
The girl, Yuxiao, again appeared upon the stage. While she was singing “Never more shall I see you in this world, so I make this portrait of you,” Ximen suddenly thought of all the suffering through which Li Ping’er had gone, and he was moved to tears. He took a handkerchief from his sleeve and dried his eyes. Pan Jinlian saw him with her cold eyes. “Look at that rascal,” she said to Yueniang, and pointed to him, “he even sheds tears when he hears something on the stage.”
“In spite of all your cleverness,” Meng Yulou said, “you don’t appear to understand. Plays are intended to express sorrow, joy, separations and meetings. He saw something that touched his heart. He is not the first to weep when he sees a play. It is like thinking about a dead horse when we see a saddle.”
“Oh, I don’t believe a word of it,” Jinlian said. “People who cry when they hear a tale or see a play are all pretending. If the actors can make people shed real tears, they must be very fine actors.”
“Be quiet, ladies,” Yueniang said. “Listen to the play.”
“I can’t think what makes this sister of ours so self-opinionated,” Yulou said to Aunt Wu.
The play went on until the fifth night watch, and then the party began to break up. Ximen Qing took a large cup and, standing by the door, stopped his guests and pressed them to drink again. But, when he found he could keep them no longer, he allowed them to go. The servants cleared away, and Ximen told the actors to leave their boxes because he wished them to perform another day when the two eunuchs, Liu and Xue, were coming. The actors agreed, and, after being entertained with food and wine, went away. Li Ming and his three companions went home. It was nearly dawn and Ximen Qing went to the inner court to rest.
CHAPTER 64
Shutong Runs Away
The jade is perished and the pearls are lost
Sadly he thinks of it.
In public he sheds tears, and in secret mourns.
Often he painted butterflies playing on the wall
And remembered the joy of the love birds
In the green curtains.
Now, only in dreams may he enjoy her.
She may not hope to emulate Fei Yin
Red lips and pearly teeth have joined the yellow dust.
Mournfully he longs to meet her
In the world to come.
It was almost dawn when all the guests went home and Ximen Qing went to rest. Daian took a large pot of wine and several dishes and went to the shop to enjoy them with Clerk Fu and Chen Jingji. Clerk Fu was getting old. He did not feel like sitting up any longer. He made his bed and lay down, saying to Daian: “You and Ping’an had better have these things. I don’t believe Brother-in-law Chen is coming.” Daian went to fetch Ping’an. They encouraged one another to drink and finished everything off. Then they cleared away the dishes and plates, and Ping’an went to his own place. Daian shut up the shop and went and lay on Clerk Fu’s bed, feet against feet.
“Well,” Clerk Fu said, “the Sixth Lady is no more, but she has had a good send-off. Her coffin and the funeral are as fine as anyone could desire.”
“Yes,” said Daian, “if she had lived longer, she might have been accounted a very fortunate woman. Father has been to all this expense, but, after all, it was not his own money. She was very well off when she married him. I happen to be one of the few who know this. She had not only money but gold, pearls, jade, embroideries and valuable ornaments of all sorts. They were the attraction. It wasn’t the lady, but her money that our master wanted. But there wasn’t a more agreeable lady in the whole household. She was unassuming and pleasant always. She had a smile and a kind word for everybody she met, even the slaves. When she sent us out to buy anything, she would pick up a piece of silver and hand it to us. And if we said, as we sometimes did: ‘Mother, won’t you please weigh the silver?’ she would smile and say: ‘Take it away. Why should I weigh it? You wouldn’t be working here if you didn’t hope to make a little for yourselves now and again. So long as you bring me something good I won’t worry.’ Everybody in the place borrowed money from her, and nobody ever paid her back. She never troubled whether they did or not. The Great Lady and the Third Lady are generous too, but the Fifth Lady and the Second are as mean as mean can be. If it ever falls to them to run the household, we shall have a very bad time. The sort of thing they do is to give us short money when they send us out to buy things, nine fen or something like that when the thing they want costs a qian. I suppose we are expected to make up the difference ourselves.”
“The Great Lady is not so bad as that,” Clerk Fu said.
“She is not so bad as that, certainly,” Daian said, “but she loses her temper very easily. When she is in a good mood, one can talk to her and find her very agreeable, but when she is displeased, she scolds everybody without exception. The dead lady was far better than she is, for she never did harm to anyone and often spoke kindly for us to our master. If we got into scrapes, no matter how awkward, we used to go to her, and she would speak to our master. He never refused anything she asked. But the Fifth Lady always has words upon her lips like ‘Wait and see if I don’t tell your father’ or ‘You shall have a beating.’ Her maid Chunmei is another evil star. My word! They are a fine pair!”
“She has been here several years,” Clerk Fu said.
“Yes, and you know what she was like when she came. She does not even treat her own mother decently. The poor old lady often goes away in tears. Now that the Sixth Lady is dead, I can see the Fifth Lady ruling the roost completely. Anyone who goes to clean up the garden will get a good cursing from her if he doesn’t do it as she would have it.”
Clerk Fu was soon fast asleep and snoring. Daian had had some wine. He, too, was not long before he closed his eyes and was dead to the world. The sun was high in the heavens before they woke.
Ximen Qing often slept beside the coffin. Every morning, Yuxiao came and took away the bedclothes, and Ximen Qing went to the inner court to dress. Then Shutong, his hair undressed, would come to play and joke with the maid, and Yuxiao would dally there a long time. But today, Ximen Qing did not sleep there but in Yueniang’s room. Yuxiao got up before the others and slipped out quietly. She went with Shutong to the study in the garden and there they had a merry time together.
Pan Jinlian also got up early that day. She went to the hall and saw that the light before the coffin had gone out. The tables and chairs were in disorder. Nobody was to be seen but Huatong, w
ho was busy sweeping.
“What are you doing here alone?” Jinlian said to him. “Where are the others?”
“They are not up yet,” Huatong told her.
“Put down your broom,” Jinlian said, “and go and ask Brother-in-law for a roll of white silk. I want it for my mother. I want a girdle for her too. She is probably going away today.”
“I think Brother-in-law is still in bed, but I will go and see,” Huatong said.
When he came back, he said: “Brother-in-law says it isn’t his business. Shutong and Cui Ben are responsible for the mourning. You must ask Shutong.”
“How do I know where he is?” Jinlian said. “Go and look for him.”
Huatong looked into the room beside the hall and said: “He was in here a few moments ago. Perhaps he has gone to the garden to dress his hair.”
“Go on with your work, and I’ll go and look for him myself,” Jinlian said. She went to the garden. When she came to the study, she heard the sound of somebody laughing. She pushed the door open, Shutong and Yuxiao were enjoying a full measure of delight.
“Ah, you slaves!” Jinlian said, “excellent work you’re doing there!”
Shutong and Yuxiao were scared. They plumped down on their knees and begged to be forgiven.
“You slave,” Jinlian said to Shutong, “go and get me a roll of white silk and another of cloth. I am going to give them to my mother when she goes away.”
Shutong hastened to bring them for her, and she went to her own room. Yuxiao went with her, knelt down, and said: “Fifth Mother, please say nothing to my Father about this.”
“Tell me,” Jinlian said, “how often have you played this game with him? If you tell me the truth, I will say nothing.”
Yuxiao told her the whole story.
“I will forgive you,” Jinlian said, “on condition that you promise me three things.”
“If you will only forgive me, I will do anything you wish,” Yuxiao said.
The Golden Lotus, Volume 2 Page 19