With Ying Bojue there came a servant from Huang the Fourth bringing a card of invitation. They were asked to go on the seventh to Zheng Aiyue’s house. Ximen looked at the card and smiled. “I cannot go on the seventh,” he said, “because I have an engagement at a birthday party on that day. But I shall be free tomorrow, if that will do. Will anybody else be there?”
“Only Li the Third and myself,” Bojue said, “and four singing girls who will play selections from the Story of the Western Pavilion.”
Ximen Qing gave orders that Huang the Fourth’s messenger should be entertained, and then dismissed him. It was settled that the party should be held the following day.
“Huang the Fourth sent out some presents today, I believe,” Bojue said.
“Yes,” Ximen Qing said. “I didn’t want to take anything, but he pressed me so hard that, in the end, I accepted a pig and some wine. I sent them with two rolls of white silk, two rolls of cloth made at the Eastern Capital, and fifty taels of silver to his Excellency Qian.”
“Brother,” Bojue said, “you wouldn’t take their money in the first instance, and now you have given these four rolls of material to Qian. It will cost you at least thirty taels, all out of your own pocket. You treat them far too generously. Besides, you saved the lives of both father and son.”
At sunset Ying Bojue went away. Ximen Qing asked him to come again the next day.
The nuns did not finish their service until the first night watch. Then they burned paper treasure chests and went away. Early next morning, Nun Wang, who had found out about the service that had been held the day before, came to complain. Xue, she said, had taken everything for herself, and she wanted her fee. Yueniang was surprised. “Why didn’t you come yesterday?” she said. “I understood from Nun Xue that you had gone to a birthday party at Wang’s place.”
“That old whore Xue played a dirty trick on me,” Nun Wang said. “She told me that the service was put off until today. Surely she hasn’t taken all the money and not left me a penny?”
“I’m afraid you are too late,” Yueniang said. “She had the money before the service, so that is all over and done with. But perhaps I can find a roll of cloth for you.” She told Xiaoyu to give the nun a meal and to get the cloth for her.
Wang cursed and cursed. “The wicked old whore!” she cried. “She got the poor dead lady to have some scriptures printed and made a lot of money. She promised to share it with me, but every last bit of it went into her own pocket.”
“That may be,” said Yueniang, “but she told me that you had five taels for chanting texts to free the poor lady from her blood trouble. Why didn’t you do it?”
“On the thirty-fifth day after the lady died,” the nun said, “I and a number of other nuns kept chanting those texts for hour after hour in our temple.”
“Why didn’t you tell me so before?” Yueniang said. “I might have given you something for your pains.”
Nun Wang said no more. She sat down, but could not keep still and, before very long, she went away to find Nun Xue and tell her exactly what she thought about her.
Ximen Qing came home from the office. He had hardly finished his meal when Ying Bojue arrived. Bojue was wearing a new silk hat, a gown the color of incense, and black boots with white soles. “It is past noon already,” he said to Ximen Qing, “and time we were off. Huang has sent several times to summon us.”
“We will take Master Wen with us,” Ximen said. He told Wang Jing to go and summon the scholar, but, when the boy came back, he said Master Wen was not at home. He had gone to visit a friend.
“Don’t let us wait for him,” Bojue said. “These scholars are always running about visiting their friends. There is no telling when he will be back. We mustn’t waste time.”
Ximen Qing told Qintong to bring the yellow horse for Ying Bojue. “No,” said Bojue. “None of your horses for me! When I go riding, I wobble about like the clapper of a bell. I’ll go first, and you can come in a sedan chair at your leisure.”
“Well, well,” Ximen said, “do as you please.”
Bojue went away and Ximen Qing called for his sedan chair. He ordered Qintong, Daian and four soldiers to attend him. Just as he was about to set out, Ping’an hurried in with a card. “The honorable gentleman from the Office of Works is on his way to see you,” he said. “This is his card. His sedan chair will be here in a moment.”
Ximen Qing ordered food to be prepared, and sent Laixing out to buy some special delicacies. An arrived, and Ximen Qing, wearing his ceremonial robes, went to meet him. An was wearing an embroidered ceremonial gown with a round collar, and a girdle with carved gold buckle. They sat down and the servants brought tea. The two men talked politely to one another.
“Sir,” Ximen Qing said, “it was a great disappointment to me that I could not come in person to congratulate you upon your appointment. The other day you were good enough to write to me and send me presents on the occasion of my bereavement. I am very sorry indeed that I have not had any opportunity to show my appreciation of your kindness.”
“I cannot say how much I regret that I could not come to the funeral,” An said. “When I was at the Capital, I told the sad news to Zhai Yunfeng. Possibly he sent something to mark the occasion?”
“He did indeed,” Ximen Qing said. “Even all that long way.”
“I imagine that promotion is in store for you this year,” An said.
“I am so unlettered and incompetent that I dare not hope for anything,” Ximen said. “You, Sir, have been promoted, and at last you have an opportunity to display your talents. The splendid work you have done upon the river is well known.”
“You flatter me,” said An. “I am but a poor scholar, and, had it not been for his Eminence’s kindness, I should never have been given that appointment. You can imagine what terribly hard work it has been in these days when people are so desperately poor. Then, a little while ago, his Majesty required marble. A great many of the bridges over the river had to be pulled down so that the boats could pass under them, and everywhere the Imperial vessels passed, officials and people had a very bad time. Again, the country is overrun by thieves and bandits, and things are at such a pass that even the most efficient administrator would find it impossible to do anything very much.”
“Sir,” said Ximen Qing, “a man of your undoubted gifts will certainly make short work of difficulties and obtain still further promotion. Does his Majesty’s decree specify any particular time limit?”
“The work must be completed within three years,” An said, “and the Emperor is going to appoint an envoy to make sacrifice to the God of the River.”
While they were talking, Ximen Qing had ordered a table to be prepared, but An said: “It is very kind of you, but I am on my way to see Huang Taiyu.”
Ximen Qing said: “You must stay long enough to take some light refreshment.” A great number of delightful dainties were brought in, and wine was poured into golden cups. Meanwhile, An’s attendants were entertained elsewhere. An drank three cups of wine and got up to go, promising to come again. Ximen Qing escorted him to the gate; he got into his sedan chair and was carried away.
Ximen Qing went back to the hall, took off his robes of ceremony, and put on a plain hat and a purple gown. He asked if Scholar Wen had returned. Daian said: “No, but Zheng Chun and Huang’s boy, Laiding, have come for you. They have been waiting a long time.” Ximen Qing went out, got into his sedan chair, and set off with his attendants for Zheng Aiyue’s house.
When he arrived, the people of the house withdrew respectfully, one servant stood on either side of the door. Zheng Chun and Laiding went in to announce his coming. Ying Bojue was playing double-sixes with Li the Third, but, when they heard that Ximen Qing had come, they put aside their game. Zheng Aiyue and her sister Zheng Aixiang wore sealskin caps upon their hair, which was dressed in the style of Hangzhou. They looked as dainty as flowers. They both came out to welcome Ximen Qing and he got out of his sedan chair and went with them
to the guest room. He had given orders that there should be no music upon his arrival, so the musicians did not play.
Li the Third and Huang the Fourth were the first to make reverence to him. Then came the old procuress, and lastly the two sisters. Two large chairs had been set in the place of honor and Ximen Qing and Ying Bojue sat down in them. Li, Huang, and the two girls sat opposite. When Daian asked if the sedan chair should be dismissed, Ximen said that the soldiers and the chair men might go away. He sent Qintong to see whether Master Wen had come home yet, saying that he was to be given the yellow horse to bring him more quickly.
Bojue asked what had kept Ximen so long. Ximen Qing told him about An’s unexpected visit. Zheng Chun brought tea. Aixiang took a cup and offered it to Ying Bojue and Zheng Aiyue offered one to Ximen Qing. Bojue held out his hand for this one too. Then he said: “Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought it was meant for me.”
“I would not pay you so much honor,” said Aiyue.
“You never bother about anybody but this naughty husband of yours,” Bojue said. “You ought to treat his friends as well as you treat him.”
“I don’t consider you are one of his friends,” Aiyue said, laughing.
After tea, the four players kowtowed to Ximen Qing, and he asked their names. “When it is time for them to play,” he said, “please tell them to use their drums only, no other instruments.”
“Just as you wish,” Huang the Fourth replied.
Thinking that Ximen might feel cold, the old procuress told Zheng Chun to pull down the blinds and put more coal upon the fire. Some of the band of ne’er-do-wells heard that Ximen Qing was at a party at Zheng Aiyue’s house. They came to the door and poked their noses around the corner, but did not dare to go any farther. One of them, who knew Daian, asked the boy to speak to his master on their behalf. Daian went softly and told Ximen Qing, but the only response was a growl, and the men went off as fast as their legs would carry them.
Two tables were laid in the place of honor, one for Ximen Qing by himself, the other for Ying Bojue and Master Wen. The scholar had not yet come, but a place was left for him. Two other tables were set opposite, one for Li and Huang, the other for Zheng Aiyue and Aixiang. An excellent meal was served, and the tables were decorated with flowers in golden vases. Zheng Chun and Zheng Feng sang.
The party had just settled down when Scholar Wen arrived. He was wearing a tall hat, and a green gown. When he came in, he bowed to the company. “What makes you so late, Scholar?” Bojue said. “We have been waiting for you a long time.”
“I am very sorry,” Scholar Wen said, “I did not know you wanted me. I have been to see a poor old schoolfellow of mine. We talked about books and that made me late.”
Huang the Fourth hastened to set a cup and chopsticks at Wen’s place and the scholar sat down with Ying Bojue. Fresh dishes were brought for him. The two boys sang again. Afterwards the four singers began to play one of the acts of the Story of the Western Pavilion.
Then Daian came and said that Wu Yin’er had sent Wu Hui and another boy with some tea.
Zheng Aiyue’s house and that of Wu Yin’er were in the same lane, only a short distance from one another. Wu Yin’er heard that Ximen Qing was taking wine at Zheng Aiyue’s, and decided to send him some tea. Ximen called for the boys. They came and kowtowed. They told him their errand, then opened their tea baskets and each of them offered a cup of fragrant tea with melon seeds.
“What is Wu Yin’er doing today?” Ximen asked them.
“She is at home,” the boy said.
Ximen Qing drank the tea and gave each of the boys three qian of silver. Then he told Daian and Wu Hui to go and fetch Wu Yin’er.
Zheng Aiyue was quick-witted enough to send Zheng Chun with them. “You go too,” she told him, “and if she shows any signs of not wanting to come, tell her I won’t love her any more.”
“It makes me laugh,” Ying Bojue said, “to think of you as partners in your particular trade.”
“My good friend,” Master Wen said, “you don’t seem to understand. It is well known that people of the same profession and the same disposition are fondest of one another. He who finds he has more to hope from Heaven looks always Heavenward, and he whose help comes from the Earth, looks towards the Earth. It is perfectly natural that this young lady should invite another young lady to come and join her.”
“Beggar Ying,” said Zheng Aiyue, “you and Zheng Chun are just as much partners. You both are always to be found wherever there is anything to be had for the asking.”
“My poor foolish child,” Bojue said, “I was a rascal long before you were born. I was making love to your mother while you were still in her belly.”
They laughed and joked till the players returned to play another act. Ximen Qing called the girl who played the part of Ying Ying and asked who she was. “Don’t you recognize her, Father?” Aixiang said. “She is a niece of Han Jinchuan, and her name is Xiaochou. She is thirteen years old.”
“She will turn out very well,” Ximen said. “Even now, she has a most fascinating manner and she sings delightfully.” He bade her serve wine to them. Huang the Fourth pressed everybody to eat and made himself most agreeable.
After a while, Wu Yin’er came. Upon her head was a white headdress with a band of pearls around it. She wore a white double-breasted silk coat with an embroidered hem. Beneath it, a light green silk skirt with a golden fringe. Her shoes were made of dark green silk. She smiled as she came and kowtowed to Ximen Qing. She made a reverence to the others. “You make me wild the very moment you come in,” Ying Bojue said. “Am I the son of a concubine that you kowtow to his Lordship and only make a reverence to the rest of us? Really, you little strumpets give yourselves too many airs. If ever I am called upon to go to the court, I shan’t forget this.”
“Beggar Ying,” Zheng Aiyue shouted at him, “you are nothing but an unmannerly scamp. In your slovenly rags, how can you expect to be taken for anyone of consequence?”
Once again the tables were set. Wu Yin’er sat down beside Ximen Qing. He noticed that she was wearing a white headdress and asked her for whom she was wearing mourning.
“Why, you must know,” Wu Yin’er said, “it is for the Sixth Lady, of course.”
This pleased Ximen Qing, and they talked together very fondly. Food was brought and Aiyue came to offer wine to Ximen. Wu Yin’er rose. “I must go and see my Aunt Zheng,” she said. She went to the old procuress’s room and made reverence to her. The old woman invited her to sit down and told a maid to bring a brazier, for she was afraid the girl might feel cold. After a while, Wu Yin’er went back to the others. Fresh courses were brought, but she took no more than a mouthful or two of soup and a piece of cake. Then she put down her chopsticks. “I understand you had a special service for my lady’s last week’s mind,” she said to Ximen Qing.
“Yes,” he said, “I must thank you for sending the tea.”
“It was very poor tea I sent,” Wu Yin’er said, “yet you thank me even for that. Rather should I thank you for the splendid presents you sent in return. They set my mother all in a flutter. I suggested to Zheng Aiyue and Li Guijie that they should send tea to you for my lady’s last week’s mind, but we did not know you were having any service.”
“There were only a few nuns to chant a dirge,” Ximen Qing said. “We did not invite any of our relatives and friends. I was overtired.”
They drank their wine and talked. Wu Yin’er asked after Ximen’s ladies. He told her they were all well.
“Father,” Wu Yin’er said. “My lady died so suddenly, you must feel lonely when you go to her room. Do you still think about her?”
“Indeed I do,” Ximen said. “The other day I was in my study, and, though it was broad daylight, I dreamed of her and found myself sobbing.”
“I can quite understand,” Wu Yin’er said. “You see, she died so suddenly.”
“Now then!” Ying Bojue cried. “You two are talking about your loves while the rest of u
s are as dry as dry can be. If somebody doesn’t come and offer me a cup of wine and sing a song, I shall go.”
Li the Third and Huang the Fourth were greatly put out and hurriedly asked Aiyue and Aixiang to serve the wine. They sent for the musicians, and the two sisters, with Wu Yin’er, sat together near the fire and sang “Dallying with the Plum Blossoms.” The sound of their voices was enough to break the rocks and make the clouds course more quickly. When they had finished their song, Ximen Qing said to Bojue: “You made them sing, now you must offer them wine.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Ying Bojue said. “They shall have all they want from me before they die. How would they like it? Shall I lie on my back with my limbs outstretched, or on my side, or shall I stand on one leg like a golden cockerel? I can do any of those things. Or perhaps they would like me to imitate a wild horse stampeding around the courtyard, a monkey offering nuts, a yellow dog piddling, or an angel pointing the way? Tell me, Brother, which way shall I deal with them?”
“I can’t find words bad enough to curse you with, you dirty scoundrel!” Aixiang cried. “You are always talking nonsense.”
Bojue put three cups on a plate. “Daughters,” he said, “drink this from my hand. If you don’t take it, I’ll throw it all over you.”
“I am not drinking any wine today,” Aixiang said.
“Get down on your knees before my sister Aixiang and let me box your ears,” Aiyue said. “Then I’ll drink.”
“And what do you say, Sister Wu Yin’er?” Bojue said.
“I am not very well today. I will only drink half a cup.”
“If you don’t go on your knees,” Aiyue said, “you can implore me for a hundred days, but you won’t get me to drink any.”
“Uncle,” Huang the Fourth said, “if you refuse to kneel down, it will show you don’t know how to take a joke. Kneel down. I will ask them not to box your ears.”
“I won’t box his ears more than twice,” Aiyue said, “that is, provided he kneels down.”
The Golden Lotus, Volume 2 Page 27