The Golden Lotus, Volume 2

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  Wang Jing took the box and went to the inner court. After a while he returned and handed the box to Ying Bao. “There are some silken clothes and a set of ornaments inside,” he said. Ying Bao took them away and Bojue sat down to have tea with Ximen Qing.

  “Eunuch Xue has asked me to go to his place outside the city to enjoy the coming of Spring,” Ximen Qing said, “but I have too much to do. My kinsman, Wu, has invited me to go and take part in a service at his place on the ninth, but I can’t go to that either. I must send my son-in-law instead. I don’t know whether I have been drinking too much, but my back aches very badly and I feel too lazy to move.”

  “You have been drinking too much, Brother,” Bojue said. “You must drink less.”

  “It is the New Year and I can’t help myself,” Ximen said. “Wherever I go, drink is pressed upon me.”

  Then Daian came in with a box. “Captain He,” he said, “has sent you an invitation to a party on the ninth.”

  “There you are!” Ximen said. “Another invitation. And I can’t refuse.”

  He opened the case. There were three cards inside it. One, a large red one, said: “To his Lordship, my colleague Siquan”; another: “To his Worship, Wu”; and the third, “To my good friend, the worthy Ying.” They all ended with the words “your friend He Yingshou kowtows.”

  Daian said: “The messenger said he did not know the other addresses, so he brought all the cards here. He said he would be much obliged if we would forward them.”

  “What shall I do?” Ying Bojue said. “I have never sent the Captain any present. How can I accept his invitation?”

  “I will give you something for Ying Bao to take to him. That will be all right.”

  Ximen told Wang Jing to wrap up two qian of silver and a handkerchief, and to write Bojue’s name on a card. “Perhaps you will take this card with you. I will not send it,” he said to Ying Bojue. He told Daian to take the other card to Uncle Wu. Wang Jing gave the packet to Ying Bojue. Bojue bowed to Ximen Qing and thanked him. Then he went away.

  “I will come early, and we will start together,” he said as he was leaving.

  In the afternoon Yueniang and the others dressed and set out. They had one large sedan chair and three small ones. They took Laijue’s wife to act as their maid, and she, too, had a small sedan chair. Four soldiers went before them to clear the way, and Qintong, Chunhong, Qitong, and Laian followed them. So they came to Yun Lishou’s house.

  When they had gone, Ximen Qing said to Ping’an, the gatekeeper: “No matter who comes to see me, you must say that I am not at home. Just accept any cards that may be brought.”

  Ping’an had had such instructions before, and he had learned his lesson. He did not dare to leave the gate. He sat down and, whenever a visitor came, said his master was not at home.

  Ximen Qing’s legs were still painful. He remembered that he had some long-lasting medicine that a doctor had once given him, to be taken with the milk of a woman. He went to Li Ping’er’s room and asked Ruyi’er to give him some of hers. Ruyi’er was dressed in her holiday clothes. She at once gave him some milk and gave him what he needed for the medicine. Ximen sat by the fire and told Yingchun to bring him something to eat. Yingchun did so, then went to play chess with Chunmei. She knew that Ruyi’er would give him any water or tea he might want. When the maid had gone, Ximen lay down on the bed, pulled down his trousers, took out his prick, and asked her to take it in her mouth while he took some wine in his. “Suck it for me thoroughly,” he said, “and I’ll give you a decorated cloak to wear on holiday.” “Certainly,” she replied. “I want to suck it again and again.” “My child,” Ximen Qing said, “I should like to burn some incense on your body.”

  “Do what you like,” the woman said.

  Ximen Qing made fast the door, then took off his cloak and trousers. She lay on the bed, and Ximen took from his pocket three grains of incense, soaked in wine, which were left over from the time when he had his pleasure with Mistress Lin. He took off her clothes and put one grain of incense on her bosom, another on her belly, and the third in her cunt; then he burned them all. He put his prick in her cunt, bent down to look, and thrust vigorously; then he took a mirror to see better, and it was not long before the incense had burned down to her skin; she grimaced and ground her teeth in pain, and at last she said in a trembling voice, “Stop, I can’t stand it any longer.”

  “Zhang the Fourth, you strumpet, whose woman are you?” Ximen Qing cried.

  “I am yours.”

  “Say that you once belonged to Xiong Wang, but now you belong to me.”

  “This strumpet once was Xiong Wang’s wife, but now she belongs to this darling.”

  “Do I know how to deal with a woman?”

  “Yes, my darling, you know well how to treat a woman’s cunt.”

  So they talked, in a manner we cannot describe. His penis was so long and thick that it filled her whole cunt. He traveled up and down, making the heart of her flower now red as a parrot’s tongue, now black as a bat’s wing. It was a delightful and wonderful sight. He held her legs; bodies squeezed together, and his prick went in right to its root. Her eyes opened wide, and love juices flowed from her. Ximen reached his orgasm, and his sperm flowed like a river.

  After he had burned her in this way, he opened the cabinet and gave her a silk embroidered cape.

  In the evening, Yueniang and the others came back. “Mistress Yun is going to have a baby,” Yueniang told her husband. “Today, when we offered wine to one another, we agreed that, when the babies arrive, if one is a boy and the other a girl, we will arrange a marriage between them. If they are both boys, they shall go to the same school, and if girls, they shall be like sisters, do their needlework, and play together. Mistress Ying was our witness.”

  Ximen Qing smiled.

  The next day was the day before Jinlian’s birthday. Ximen Qing went to the office in the morning and told the boys to get out and clean all the lanterns and put them up. He told Laixing to buy fruits and to arrange with the singing boys to come in the evening.

  Early that morning, Jinlian got up and dressed, putting on flowers and powdering her face till it was very white. Her lips were red; the sleeves of her coat green. She came to the great hall to watch Daian and Qintong putting up the lanterns. She smiled and said: “I see you are getting ready for the Feast of Lanterns.”

  “Yes,” Qintong said, “today is the eve of your birthday, and Father said we were to get out the lanterns and have them up ready for your party tomorrow. This evening I am coming to kowtow to you. I’m sure you will have something for me.”

  “If it is a beating you want, yes, indeed; but if money, it is no use coming to me,” Jinlian said.

  “Mother,” Qintong said, “you never speak without using the word ‘beating.’ We are your children and you ought to be kind to us instead of talking to us about beatings.”

  “Shut your mouth and get on with your lanterns,” Jinlian said. “And don’t set about your work in that offhand way. The lanterns will not stay up. The other day, when Cui Ben came and you said: ‘How can the master have vanished in broad daylight?’ you very nearly got a thrashing. If you don’t put up these lanterns properly, you won’t escape a thrashing this time.”

  “Mother,” Qintong said, “you always use ill-omened words. My life is precarious enough as it is, and your words make it seem still less secure.”

  “You have a wonderful way of finding out things, Mother,” Daian said. “How did you come to hear that?”

  “Outside the palace there is a pine tree, and inside it, a great bell,” Jinlian said. “The pine tree’s shadow is easy to recognize, and the sound of the bell, easy to hear. So it is with things in this house. Yesterday, your master said to the Great Lady: ‘Last year, Ben the Fourth was here to see about the big fireworks. Now he is away and there is nobody to see to them.’ I said: ‘Even if Ben the Fourth is not at home, his wife will do as well. Why don’t you send for her?’”

&n
bsp; “What are you suggesting now, Mother?” Daian said. “You surely can’t think of such a thing. Ben the Fourth is one of our clerks.”

  “What am I suggesting now, indeed?” Jinlian said. “It is true, isn’t it? A lovely state of affairs! He goes beyond all limits.”

  “Mother,” Qintong said, “don’t believe everything you hear. We must not let this reach Ben the Fourth’s ears.”

  “That silly turtle!” Jinlian said. “What’s the harm if that fellow does get to know? I say he is a turtle, and everybody knows that that is exactly what he is. He doesn’t worry when he goes to the Eastern Capital. He knows that, when he leaves his wife behind, her cunt will not be unemployed. Don’t argue with me, you scamp. You all help your father in these games. And when you arrange things of this sort for him, you get your own fingers in the pie. Isn’t that so? You say I know too much. It is perfectly clear why that woman sent presents to the Great Lady the other day. I understand she is sending me some melon seeds to keep my mouth shut. She is very clever at these underhand games, but my first guess is that Daian devised the whole scheme.”

  “You must be fair, Mother,” Daian said. “Why should I do anything of the sort? I have never been to her place unless there was something important to be done. Don’t believe everything Mohammedan Han’s wife tells you. She and Mistress Ben the Fourth have had quarrels over their children. As the proverb says: It is easy for people to pick a quarrel, but hard to keep on good terms. If the roof falls, it does not necessarily follow that somebody must be hurt; but an evil tongue, incessantly wagging, will be the death of anyone in time. In cases like this, if you believe a thing, it is true; if you do not believe it, it is false. Mistress Ben the Fourth is a very pleasant woman. She has been here some time and she is always kind. We all go to her for tea and things, and I can’t believe we all have improper dealings with her. She hasn’t a house big enough to hold us all.”

  “Oh, I know the bleary-eyed strumpet,” Jinlian said. “She is no bigger than half a brick, but she blinks her watery eyes and seems to make people do what she wishes. She and that hashed-up, melon-faced Han Daoguo’s wife! I know their tricks. I keep my eyes open. How can I fail to see?”

  At that moment, Xiaoyu came up and said: “The Great Lady is asking for you. Grandmother Pan has come, and she wants to pay the sedan chair men.”

  “I have been standing here all this time,” Jinlian said. “How was it I didn’t see her?”

  “She went in by the passage,” Qintong said. “She needs six fen of silver for the sedan chair.”

  “Where does she expect me to get the money?” Jinlian cried. “Why doesn’t she bring her own money when she goes out to visit people?”

  She went to the inner court to see her mother, but she would not give her any money.

  “Give the old lady a qian of silver and put it down in the accounts,” Yueniang said.

  “No, I’m not going to upset our husband,” Jinlian said. “He knows exactly how much money he gives me. He gave it to me to buy things with, not to pay for sedan chairs.”

  They all sat down and looked at one another. The sedan chair men kept pressing for their money. They wanted to go away. At last, Yulou could bear it no longer. She took a qian of silver from her sleeve and dismissed the men.

  After a while, the two aunts Wu and the nun came. Yueniang gave them tea. Old woman Pan went to her daughter’s room. Jinlian upbraided her harshly.

  “Who told you to come, if you haven’t money enough to pay for your chair? You come here, and people laugh at you. You have no shame at all.”

  “Daughter,” old woman Pan said, “you never give me any money. Where am I to get it? Indeed, I found it very hard even to get presents to bring with me.”

  “It’s no use looking to me for money,” Jinlian said. “Money doesn’t come my way. There are seven holes here and eight eyes trying to find them. In the future, come when you know you have money to pay for your chair and, if you haven’t any, stay away. I’m sure nobody in this house is dying to see you, so you needn’t make an exhibition of yourself. Though the god of war may have sold bean curd, it was the man himself who counted, not the stuff he sold. I can’t put up with the insulting things people say. There was trouble the other day, after you had gone away. Did you know that? I am like the droppings that fall from a donkey. They look very fine and large, but there’s nothing inside.”

  The old woman began to cry. “Mother,” Chunmei said to Jinlian, “what is the matter with you today? Why are you scolding Grandmother so?” She did her best to console the old lady, took her to the inner room, and made her sit down on the bed. Then she gave her a cup of tea. The old woman was so upset that she went to sleep and did not wake up till she was called to dinner. Then she went to the inner court.

  When Ximen Qing came back from the office, he had his meal in Yueniang’s room. Daian brought him a card and said that Jing had called to see him. Upon the card was written: “The recently promoted Commander of the troops in the southeast and Superintendent of Communications, Jing Zhong, presents his humble respects.” Ximen hastily put on his ceremonial clothes and went to welcome him. Jing was wearing a scarlet gown, with a unicorn embroidered upon it, and a girdle with a gold buckle. He was accompanied by a host of officials and soldiers. They greeted each other in the hall, then sat down, and tea was brought.

  “The documents reached me the day before yesterday,” Jing said. “I have not yet been to my new office, but I felt I must come especially to thank you.”

  “I must congratulate you, General,” Ximen said. “It is only right and fitting that a man so capable as yourself should be appointed to a more responsible post. Your appointment sheds glory even upon myself. I must give a party in your honor.”

  He asked Jing to take off his ceremonial clothes and stay to dinner. At the same time he ordered a servant to set the table. Jing would not stay. “I came to thank you,” he said, “before I went to anyone else, but I have a great deal to attend to. I will come and see you another day.” He prepared to say good-bye, but Ximen Qing would not have it. He told a servant to take his guest’s ceremonial robes and set the table at once. Charcoal was put into the brazier; the blinds were drawn. Jade-like wine was poured from a golden jar and food brought in a precious dish.

  The wine had just been served when the two boys, Zheng Chun and Wang Xiang, came in and kowtowed. “What makes you so late?” Ximen Qing asked Zheng Chun. “And who is this other boy?”

  “He is Wang Xiang, a brother of Wang Gui,” Zheng Chun said.

  Ximen told them to bring their instruments and sing, and the two boys sang the song “This Delightful Weather.” Servants brought two trays of food and two jars of wine for the people who had come with General Jing.

  “This is really too much,” Jing said. “I have troubled you enough. Why should you give food to all my people?” He ordered them to come and kowtow to Ximen Qing.

  “Tomorrow or the day after,” Ximen said, “my wife is going to invite your lady to come and enjoy the Feast of Lanterns. I hope you will persuade her to come. There will be your lady, Mistress Zhang, Captain He’s wife, and the two ladies of my kinsman Wu, nobody else.”

  “If any invitation comes from your lady, my humble wife will be sure to come,” Jing said.

  “Why has Zhou not been given an appointment yet?” Ximen Qing asked.

  “I am told he is to receive an appointment in the Capital in three months’ time,” Jing said.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Ximen said.

  Jing stood up and said good-bye. Ximen Qing took him to the gate. Then, with the soldiers clearing the way for him, he went away.

  That evening, they kept the eve of Jinlian’s birthday. The two boys sang in the inner court. When the wine had been passed around, Ximen Qing went to her room. Aunt Wu, old woman Pan, Ximen Dajie, Miss Yu, and the two nuns stayed in Yueniang’s room while Jinlian went to her own room to drink with Ximen Qing. She offered him wine and kowtowed to him. After a while old w
oman Pan came, and Jinlian sent her to sleep in the Sixth Lady’s room, so that she herself could drink and sport with Ximen.

  The old woman went to the Sixth Lady’s room, and Ruyi’er and Yingchun helped her to get into the warm bed. But, before she did so, she looked at Li Ping’er’s tablet in the outer room with many offerings set out before it. The portrait was hanging there. The old woman made a reverence to it. “Sister,” she said, “you are safe in paradise now.” Then she came and sat on the bed and said to Ruyi’er and Yingchun: “Your mistress is a happy woman. She is dead, but her husband has many prayers said for her and makes offerings to show he still remembers her.”

  “The other day we observed my mistress’s hundredth day,” Ruyi’er said. “Why didn’t you come? Aunt Hua and Aunt Wu were here; there were twelve priests to read the prayers. They played instruments and waved banners about. It was really a splendid ceremony, and didn’t come to an end before the evening.”

  “It was the New Year season,” old woman Pan said. “I couldn’t leave the boy at home alone. That is why I didn’t come. But where is Aunt Yang today?”

  “Didn’t you hear that Aunt Yang had died?” Ruyi’er said. “On my mistress’s hundredth day she didn’t come, and, only a few days ago, all our ladies went to her funeral.”

  “What a sad thing!” old woman Pan said. “I believe she was even older than I am. I never knew she was dead. No wonder I missed her today.”

  “Grandmother,” Ruyi’er said, “we have some sweet wine. Would you like some?” Then she said to Yingchun: “Sister, will you put a small table on the bed and warm some sweet wine for Grandmother?”

  The wine was brought, and, while she was drinking it, the old woman said: “Your mistress was a very good woman. She was kind and sweet. When I came here, she never treated me as a stranger. She used to give me hot tea and hot water, and she would be angry if I wouldn’t take them. And at night she would stay awake and talk to me. When I was going away she always gave me something. Why, Sisters, even this gown I am wearing now, she gave me. My own daughter never gives me so much as the half of a broken needle. That is the truth. If I were starving, she wouldn’t give me a penny. She would see my eyes drop out on the ground first. When your lady was alive, my daughter used to scold me for a miser and say I was always trying to get things out of her. I know she has a lot of money, but, in spite of it, she would not give me even the few fen I needed to pay for my sedan chair. She bit her lips and said she had no money. In the end, the lady in the east room gave me a qian and paid off the chair men.