“Evil news,” he said. “Our master died on the field of battle on the seventh day of the fifth month. The mistress and the Second Lady are bringing his coffin.”
Zhou Xuan hastily made arrangements to clear the outer hall. The coffin was brought in and set down there. They made offerings to the dead general, and all the members of the household cried and lamented. Then vegetarian food was prepared, and Daoist and Buddhist priests were summoned to hold a funeral service. The two children were dressed in mourning. A host of people called to offer their condolences. Finally, a suitable day was chosen, and they buried the General in the tomb of his ancestors.
Zhou Xuan, acting for his little nephew, sent a memorial to the Emperor asking that royal homage might be offered to the dead general and that some title might be conferred upon the child. The Emperor sent a document to the Ministry of War, and the Minister of War sent it on.
This dead General, Zhou Xiu, forgot his own life in the service of his country [the document said]. His loyalty and courage are worthy of the highest praise. His Majesty therefore appoints an officer to offer food to the dead and confers upon him the title of Marshal. His son shall receive a pension and, when he is of age, shall inherit his father’s rank and position.
Chunmei had nothing to live for now but pleasure, and her passions seemed stronger than ever. She often made Zhou Yi spend the whole day with her. He came to her in the morning and did not go away till evening. They enjoyed themselves without the slightest restraint. Then Chunmei began to suffer from a wasting sickness. She took medicine, but her appetite fell off. Her spirits were depressed, and her body became very thin. Still, she never gave up the joys she most loved.
It was the sixth month, and her birthday was past. The weather was hot. She did not rise early but stayed in bed with Zhou Yi. They were doing the work of love, when suddenly, her breath grew cold. Water came from her cunt, and she died with Zhou Yi still upon her body. She was twenty-nine years old.
The young man was alarmed. He opened Chunmei’s boxes and stole gold and silver and all the jewels he could lay his hands on. Then he fled. The maids went to tell Zhou Xuan. The old man, Zhou Zhong, was put in chains and they went to find his son, Zhou Yi. He was arrested as he was going to his aunt’s house. Zhou Xuan knew this, but he was afraid that all the dirty business would come out and that, if it became public property, it would be very unpleasant for his young nephew when he came of age. So he asked Zhou Yi no questions but simply ordered him to be given forty stripes. So Zhou Yi died. Jin’ge and the Second Lady were both present.
Chunmei’s funeral was hastily arranged, and she was buried with the General. Zhou Xuan dismissed the two nurses and sent away the two girls, Haitang and Yuegui. Only Cuiping and Han Aijie still remained. Han Aijie refused to go.
Then the army of the Jin people captured the Eastern Capital. Both the reigning emperor, and his father were taken and sent to the north. So China was without an emperor and the empire was completely disrupted. Soldiers and war were everywhere, and men and women wandered over the face of the land. The common people cried as though they were drowning in mud, as if they were hung up by their legs. Then the barbarians invaded Shandong, and the people ran away in such a flurry that husband and wife often went in different directions. Fathers and sons lost each other. Devils cried, and Gods screamed.
Cuiping’s mother took her away, and they fled for their lives. Han Aijie was left alone. She dressed herself simply, packed a few things, and set off for Linqing to find her parents. But, when she got to the wine house, the place was closed and the managers had fled. Fortunately, she met Chen the Third. He told her that her parents had gone to Huzhou with the merchant He. She went on. She had taken a moon guitar with her, and on the way she sang songs for the people. Day and night she traveled, like a stray dog escaping from confinement or a fish slipping out of the net. Her feet were very small and the journey was hard for her. After several days she came to Xuzhou. It was very late when she came to a lonely village. There she went to an old lady about seventy years old who was standing before a fire cooking rice. Han Aijie went to her and made a reverence.
“I am a native of Qinghe,” she said to the old woman, “and I am on my way to find my parents because the country in the north is in such a disturbed state. It is late and I should like to spend the night with you. I must set off again early tomorrow. I will pay you.”
The old woman realized that this was no poor girl. Her manner was too gentle and her face too beautiful. She asked the girl to come in and sit down. “I must get on with the cooking of this rice because the men want it,” she said.
The old woman put more fuel on the fire. She prepared rice and beans, chopped up some vegetables, and put them with salt on two plates. Then a few men came in, all barelegged and rough-haired. They were wearing short trousers covered with mud. As they came in, they set down their shovels.
“Now, Mother,” they said, “is dinner ready?”
“Come in and help yourselves,” the old woman said to them. Each took his own food and vegetables and ate it by himself.
There was one man who seemed about forty-five or forty-six. He had a very red face and his hair was light. “Who is that sitting on the bed?” he said to the old woman.
“It is a lady from Qinghe. She is going south of the river to find her parents. It is very late, and she came and asked me if she might spend the night here.”
The man asked her name.
“My name is Han,” the girl said. “My father is called Han Daoguo.” The man went over to her and took her hand. “Are you not my niece, Han Aijie?” he asked her.
“You must be my uncle,” Han Aijie cried.
They threw their arms around each other and wept. He asked where her parents were and why they had come back from the Eastern Capital, and how she had come to be there. Han Aijie told her uncle the whole story. “I married a man at General Zhou’s place,” she said. “Then my husband died and I did not marry again. Father and mother went to Huzhou with a merchant called He, and I am going to them. But the country where I have come from is in such an unsettled state that I could find no one who would take me there. So I came alone, and I have been singing on my way to get the necessaries of life. Then I met you.”
“After your parents went to the Eastern Capital,” Han said, “my business went to bits, so I sold the house and came here as a worker on the river. Every day, I earn just about enough to keep me. I will go with you to Huzhou.”
“That will be splendid,” Han Aijie said.
Her uncle gave her a bowl of rice, but it was such coarse stuff she could only swallow a mouthful. Finally, she succeeded in finishing half a bowl.
The next day, when all the other men had gone to their work, Han the Second paid the old woman and set out with Han Aijie. She was delicate and her feet were very small. The only property she had was a few pins and ornaments, and she sold these to pay for things on the journey. When they got to Huai An, they took a boat and came to Huzhou by river.
So, after a very long journey, they found Han Daoguo and his wife at Merchant He’s place. He had died and left no wife, so Wang Liu’er was looking after his daughter, who was now six years old. He had left a few acres of rice fields. A year after the merchant’s death, Han Daoguo died too. Wang Liu’er had been intimate with her brother-in-law before. Now they married regularly and worked in the fields to keep themselves alive.
Several of the rich young men of Huzhou wished to marry Han Aijie, when they saw how beautiful and clever she was. Her uncle urged her to marry one of them, but she cut off her hair, went to a temple, and became a nun. In her thirty-first year she fell ill and died.
The Jin army plundered Dongchangfu and came on to Qinghe. When they came there, the officers had fled and the city gates were closed, even by day. The people fled in all directions and fathers and sons lost each other. There was dust and mist everywhere, and yellow sand obscured the sun. The wild pigs and the great snakes attacked and devoured o
ne another. Dragons and tigers fought for supremacy. Black banners and red flags appeared in the outskirts: men cried, women sobbed. There was tumult in every house. Valiant soldiers and heroic generals swarmed like ants and bees. Short daggers and long spears were as a thick bamboo forest. Here were corpses; there, decaying bones scattered on the ground. Broken swords and broken daggers lay about. People gathered their babies in their arms, bolted their doors, and shuttered their windows. They fled like rats. Nowhere was any trace of Music or the Rites.
Wu Yueniang learned that the barbarians had arrived and that people were fleeing. She took such valuables as she could and set off to Jinan with Uncle Wu the Second, Daian, Xiaoyu, and Xiaoge, who was now fifteen years old. She proposed to take refuge with Yun Lishou. Uncle Wu was dead. She locked all the doors of the house. She went to Yun Lishou; not only to escape the barbarians, but because she wished Xiaoge to marry there. On the way everybody she saw seemed terribly excited and afraid. The poor Yueniang, dressed in her plainest clothes, followed with the crowd. There were five of them altogether. They struggled and got out of the city. Then they hastened onward. At last they came to a crossroads. There stood a monk wearing a purple gown, a staff with nine rings in his hand. He had straw sandals and, on his shoulders he carried a cloth bag that contained his sacred books. He strode up to Yueniang and made a reverence to her.
“Lady,” he said, “’where are you going? You must give my disciple to me now.”
Yueniang was frightened and changed color.
“Father,” she said, “what disciple do you mean?”
“Lady, don’t pretend you do not know,” the monk said. “Many years ago, when you were being pursued by Ying Tianxi at Taishan, you came to my cave and spent the night there. I am the old monk of that snow cave and my name is Pujing. You promised that I should have your baby for my disciple. Why have you not given him to me?”
“Master,” Uncle Wu the Second said, “you are a priest, and you must not be so unreasonable. These are troublous times, and we are fleeing for our lives. She wants her son to continue the family. How can she let you have him?”
“Are you sure you will not give him to me?” the monk said.
“Don’t talk like this, Master,” Uncle Wu said. “We must be going on our way. The soldiers are behind us. Time is precious.”
“It is late,” the monk said. “You can go no farther now. If you will not give me the boy, come to my temple and go on your way tomorrow. Even if the Jin soldiers are coming, they will not be here yet.”
“Where is your temple, Master?” Yueniang said.
The monk pointed to the other side of the road. “There is my temple,” he said, and showed them the Temple of Eternal Felicity.
Yueniang had been there before and recognized the place. When they reached it, they found that the superiors had gone and there were only a few monks sitting in the hall at the back. A great glass lamp was still burning before the image of Buddha, and incense was burning too. It was nearly sunset.
Yueniang, Uncle Wu, Daian, Xiaoyu and Xiaoge spent the night in the temple. One or two of the young monks knew them and set out food for them. The old monk sat down in the hall and began to beat a wooden fish and recite the sacred books.
Yueniang, Xiaoyu, and Xiaoge slept in the same bed. Uncle Wu and Daian slept together in some other room. They were all very tired and, except for Xiaoyu, went straight to sleep. She got up and went to the room where the old monk was. Through a crack in the door she peeped in. He was still reading there.
It was the third night watch. The west wind was melancholy and the moon very dim. It was quiet everywhere. There was not a sound to be heard. The light before the statue of Buddha was very low.
Seeing the disturbed state of the Empire and the pitiful condition of the people, of whom so many had perished, the old monk was sorry. With all his heart he prayed to Buddha that their sad spirits might be purified and that hatred might cease among men. He wished to clear the path so that all might come to paradise. A hundred times he recited the same text, which was for bringing peace to the minds of men.
After a while, the cold wind came sadly. Several scores of ghosts appeared. Their heads were burned, their cheeks torn, their hair was tou-sled and their faces dirty. Some had broken arms and legs, some had their bellies ripped open so that their bowels protruded. Some had no heads and some no limbs. Some had died by hanging and some had chains and cangues about their necks. They all came to the old monk and stood on either side of him while he prayed for them.
“You are men who have always repaid evil by evil,” the old man said to them. “You have never had a thought of reconciliation in your hearts. I ask you: when shall this hatred cease? Listen to me, and I will send you to the place of your desire.”
I exhort you
Hate not one another
For hate deep rooted in the heart
Can never be done away.
Hatred may arise in a single day
But in ten thousand days it will still exist.
If you use hate to combat hate
It is as though you cast water upon snow.
If you return hatred for hatred
It is as though a wolf meets a scorpion.
Of men that quarrel, none, I know
Escapes the bitterness of hate.
This is a year of gloom
I wish to make you understand.
Regard your own true nature
Then hatred and ill will will melt away to nothing.
I look deep into the sacred texts
To find salvation for all evildoers.
Go now to be born again
And forgo hate forevermore.
The ghosts all bowed to the old monk and vanished.
Xiaoyu looked at them carefully but could not recognize any of them. After a time, there entered a tall man, seven feet high. There was an arrow in his breast. This was General Zhou. After his death on the field of battle against the barbarians, he came to the Teacher to receive his blessing. Then he went to the Eastern Capital to be born again there as Cheng Shoushan, the son of Cheng Zhen.
The General had only just gone when there came a man in beautiful clothes. He said he was a wealthy citizen of Qinghe and his name was Ximen Qing. He had died from a trouble of the blood. He received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital to be born again as Cheng Yue, the son of Cheng Dong.
When Xiaoyu recognized Ximen Qing, she was afraid, and dared not make a sound.
Then came a young man with his head in his hands and his body all covered with blood. He said he was Chen Jingji and that he had been killed by Zhang Sheng. He received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital to become the son of a certain Wang.
When he had gone, there came a woman. She, too, held her head in her hands and her bosom was covered with blood. She said she was the wife of Wu Da and Ximen Qing’s concubine, Pan Jinlian. Wu Song, her enemy, had killed her. She received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital to be born as the daughter of a certain Li.
Then came a short man with a purple face. He said his name was Wu and that he had been poisoned by Jinlian with the connivance of old woman Wang. He thanked the Teacher for his blessing and went to Xuzhou to be born as the son of a countryman named Fan.
He was followed by a woman, whose face was pale and thin. Water and blood issued from her body. She said she was Li Ping’er, the wife of Hua Zixu and a concubine of Ximen Qing. She received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern capital to be daughter of General Yuan.
Another man followed who said he was Hua Zixu. He had died, he said, as a result of his wife’s misdeeds. He received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital as the son of Captain Zheng.
Then came a woman whose face was pale and thin. She said she was Chunmei, the wife of General Zhou, and that she had died from overindulgence in the pleasures of love. She received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital to be the
daughter of a wealthy man.
Then a woman whose head was bound with the wrappings of a woman’s foot. She said she was the wife of Ximen Qing’s servant, Laiwang. She had hanged herself. The Teacher’s blessing was granted to her, and she went to the Eastern Capital to become the child of a certain Zhu.
Then came a man, naked, and with his hair all in disorder. His body was covered with bruises. His name, he said, was Zhang Sheng and he had been beaten to death. He received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital to be the son of a poor man named Gao.
He was followed by another woman who had a long white cloth wound around her neck. She said she was Sun Xue’e, a concubine of Ximen Qing. She had hanged herself. Now she received the Teacher’s blessing and went outside the Eastern Capital to be the daughter of a poor man called Yao.
Then came a young woman who said she was Ximen’s daughter and Chen Jingji’s wife. She had foot ribbons about her neck. She had hanged herself. Now she received the Teacher’s blessing and went outside the Eastern Capital to be the daughter of Zhong Gui, who was servant to a foreigner.
She was followed by a young man who said he was Zhou Yi. He had been beaten to death. He received the Teacher’s blessing and went to the Eastern Capital to be the son of a certain Gao. He was going to be called Gao Liuzhu. Then he vanished.
Xiaoyu was terrified and shivering. She realized that this monk could indeed speak to the ghosts. She wished to tell Yueniang what she had seen, but Yueniang was fast asleep and dreaming. She dreamed that she and those with her had with them a hundred large pearls and a ring of great value. They were going to Jinanfu to see Yun Lishou. They reached the city and asked for Yun’s place. Then people told Yun, and he knew that she had come about their children’s marriage. They greeted one another as old friends. Mistress Yun had recently died and Yun sent for his neighbor, old woman Wang, to entertain Yueniang. She was taken to the inner court and given a great feast. Uncle Wu the Second and Daian were entertained elsewhere.
The Golden Lotus, Volume 2 Page 83