The Debt of Tears

by Cao Xueqin

  But Autumn was eager to please, and protested:

  ‘Surely ma’am, if you can’t get to sleep, it would be best if we took it in turns to sit up with you?’

  Xi-feng had already dozed off. The maids heard a distant cockcrow and, seeing that Xi-feng was now fast asleep, both lay down fully dressed until daybreak, when they rose and busily began making preparations for her morning toilet. When she awoke, Xi-feng’s mind was still haunted by the terrors of the night. Despite her shaky state, her habitual determination to keep going at all costs prevailed, and with a great effort she struggled up. She was sitting rapt in thought when she heard a maid in the courtyard calling:

  ‘Is Patience in?’

  Patience called out in reply, and the maid lifted the door-curtain and came in. It turned out that she had been sent by Lady Wang to summon Jia Lian.

  ‘There’s a messenger from the yamen on urgent business,’ she said, ‘and as the Master has just gone out, Her Ladyship sent me to ask for Mr Lian to come over.’

  Xi-feng caught her breath in alarm. To ascertain the. nature of this urgent business, please turn to the next chapter.

  Chapter 89

  Our hero sees the handiwork of a departed love, and is moved to write an ode

  Frowner falls prey to hysterical fear and resolves to starve to death

  We have seen in the last chapter how Xi-feng forced herself to get up, and was sitting brooding in her apartment, when suddenly a maid arrived with news of some fresh crisis.

  ‘What has happened?’ she asked in alarm.

  ‘I don’t know, ma’am,’ replied the maid. ‘A messenger has come from the Ministry for the Master. One of the pages on the inner gate reported to Her Ladyship, and Her Ladyship sent me here to ask for Mr Lian.’

  Xi-feng became slightly calmer when she realized that it was only a Ministry affair.

  ‘Will you tell Her Ladyship,’ she said, ‘that Mr Lian was away last night on business and has not yet returned. She had better send round for Mr Zhen at the other mansion.’

  ‘Yes ma’am.’ The maid departed.

  Presently Cousin Zhen came over to Rong-guo House to receive the messenger from the Ministry. Having ascertained the facts, he went in to report to Lady Wang.

  ‘The messenger says that yesterday the President of the Yellow River Conservancy Board presented a memorial, describing the bursting of dykes throughout Honan Province and the flooding of several prefectures, departments and districts. They are allocating funds for reconstruction of city walls. This is going to mean a lot of extra administrative work for the senior officials at the Ministry, and they wished to inform Sir Zheng at once.’

  Having said this, Cousin Zhen withdrew. Jia Zheng was informed directly upon his return, and for most of the winter he was kept very busy and spent nearly all of his time at the Ministry. Although for Bao-yu this meant a period of less intensive studying, fear of being detected by his father still caused him to keep up his attendance at school, and inhibited him from spending much time with Dai-yu.

  One morning in the middle of the tenth month, Bao-yu rose and prepared to set off as usual for school. The weather had suddenly turned chilly, and he saw Aroma come in with a bundle of winter clothes.

  ‘It’s very cold today,’ she said. ‘You’ll need to wrap up well.’

  She chose a garment for him to wear and wrapped up another, which she entrusted to one of the younger maids. The maid went out and gave it to Tealeaf, saying:

  ‘As it’s so cold today, you are to have this ready in case Master Bao wants to change.’

  Tealeaf acknowledged these instructions, and followed Bao-yu to school with the felt-wrapped bundle in his arms.

  On arrival, Bao-yu sat down to work. He was soon distracted from his books by the sound of the paper casements vibrating in the wind.

  ‘The weather seems to have taken a turn for the worse,’ observed the Preceptor, opening a touch-hole in one of the windows and looking out. A great bank of dark clouds in the north-west was surging steadily across the sky. Tealeaf came into the classroom.

  ‘It’s getting colder, Master Bao. You had better put something warmer on.’

  Bao-yu nodded, and Tealeaf walked across the room. The sight of the garment he was carrying had a most curious effect on Bao-yu, who gazed at it as if in a trance. The other boys watched with fascination.

  ‘Why did you have to bring this?’ asked Bao-yu. ‘Who gave it to you?’

  He had recognized it at once as the Peacock Gold snow-cape, the one that Skybright had so bravely mended for him during her last illness.

  ‘The maids wrapped it up and told me to bring it,’ replied Tealeaf.

  ‘Well, I’m not feeling particularly cold,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I don’t think I’ll wear it just now. You may as well wrap it up again.’

  The Preceptor supposed that Bao-yu was reluctant to spoil so fine a garment, and noted with gratification this evidence of thrift.

  ‘Please put it on, Master Bao!’ pleaded Tealeaf. ‘For my sake! You know I’ll get the blame if you catch a cold.’

  With extreme reluctance Bao-yu put it on, sat down again and stared glumly at his books. The Preceptor presumed that he was concentrating once more on his studies and gave the incident no further thought.

  That afternoon, when the day’s lessons were over, Bao-yu said that he felt unwell and asked to be excused from school the next day. Dai-ru had, of late, come to view his students in a more lenient light, more as companions with whom to while away his old age. His own health was poor, and he was glad to lessen his burden of work by the judicious dispensation of sick-leave. Besides, he knew that Sir Zheng had more important matters on his mind, and that Grandmother Jia always indulged her favourite grandson. With a nod he indicated to Bao-yu that his request was granted.

  Bao-yu went straight home. After calling briefly on his mother and grandmother, neither of whom questioned his plea of illness, he returned to the Garden. He was not at all his usual smiling talkative self, in fact he hardly said a word to Aroma and the others, but lay down dressed as he was on the kang.

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ said Aroma. ‘Do you want it now, or will you wait till later?’

  Bao-yu: ‘I won’t have anything to eat. I’m not feeling well. You just have yours.’

  Aroma: ‘Well, you might at least take off that lovely cape. You’ll crumple it and ruin it.’

  Bao-yu: ‘I want to keep it on.’

  Aroma: ‘It’s not just the cape that I’m worried about. Look how carefully it’s been darned. You’ll spoil the stitching.’

  This touched Bao-yu to the quick. He heaved a deep sigh.

  ‘Oh all right! Put it away then. Wrap it up carefully. I shall never wear it again.’

  He stood up to take it off. Aroma came over to take it from him, but he had already begun to fold it himself.

  ‘Why are you being so industrious today?’ she asked in surprise.

  He made no reply but went on folding.

  ‘Where’s the wrapper?’ he asked when he had finished.

  Musk handed it to him, and as he carefully wrapped the cape, she turned to give Aroma a wink. Bao-yu took no notice of them but sat down, looking thoroughly dejected. The clock on the shelf chimed, and he glanced down at his watch. It was already half-past five. Shortly afterwards a junior maid came in to light the lamps.

  ‘If you won’t have a proper meal, at least have a little hot congee,’ pleaded Aroma. ‘If you go to bed on an empty stomach you could easily catch a fever. And then think of all the trouble we’ll have.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘I’m not hungry. I’d only feel worse if I tried to force something down.’

  ‘Well in that case,’ said Aroma, ‘you should at least have an early night.’

  She and Musk made his bed and Bao-yu lay down. He tossed and turned, but found it quite impossible to get to sleep. Finally, just before dawn, he dozed off, only to awake again half an hour later. Aroma and Musk were already up
and about.

  ‘I heard you tossing and turning till the early hours,’ said Aroma. ‘I didn’t dare disturb you. Then I fell asleep myself. Did you manage to sleep in the end?’

  ‘A bit. But I woke up again almost at once.’

  ‘Have you got a pain anywhere?’

  ‘No. I just feel depressed.’

  ‘Will you be going to school today?’

  ‘No. I asked for the day off yesterday. I thought I might go for a walk in the Garden to try and throw off this depression. But I think it will be too cold. Will you tell them to clear a room for me and put an incense burner and my writing things in it? I won’t need you today. I just want to sit quietly on my own for a while. Tell the others I don’t want to be disturbed.’

  ‘Of course no one will disturb you if you want to study quietly,’ said Musk as soon as she heard this.

  ‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ said Aroma. ‘You will be able to keep warm, and a day of studying on your own will help you to feel more settled.’ She added: ‘But please, if you don’t feel like eating a proper meal, have something. What would you like? Tell me now, and I can get them to prepare it in the kitchen.’

  ‘Whatever’s easiest,’ replied Bao-yu. ‘Don’t go to a lot of fuss. It would be nice to have some fruit in the room, for the scent.’

  ‘Which room would you prefer?’ asked Aroma. ‘They are all rather cluttered, except Skybright’s old room, which has been empty for quite a while. That might be a bit cold and lonely though.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Have the charcoal brazier moved in there.’

  Aroma gave instructions for this to be done, and as she was speaking a maid came in carrying a tray with a bowl and a pair of ivory chopsticks, which she handed to Musk, saying:

  ‘Here’s the soup Miss Hua ordered from the kitchen.’

  Musk took the tray and saw that the bowl contained Bird’s Nest Soup.

  ‘Is this what you ordered?’ she asked Aroma.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Aroma with a smile. ‘I thought that as Master Bao had nothing to eat last night and as he spent most of the night tossing in bed, he’d feel rather empty this morning, so I sent the younger maids to order this specially from the kitchen.’

  She told the maid to bring up a table, and Musk served Bao-yu with the soup. When he had drunk it and rinsed his mouth, Ripple came in:

  ‘The room’s ready,’ she said. ‘We’re waiting for the fire to get going properly and the air to clear, and then you can go in, Master Bao.’

  He nodded, but was too lost in thought to reply. Shortly afterwards a maid came in to report that his writing things had been laid out. She received a perfunctory acknowledgement from Bao-yu and was immediately followed by another maid, who announced that breakfast was ready and asked where he wanted it served.

  ‘Oh, just bring it in here,’ said Bao-yu. ‘There’s no need to make all this fuss.’

  The maid went out and returned with his breakfast. Bao-yu laughed and turning to Musk and Aroma said:

  ‘I feel so depressed. I honestly don’t think I could manage this on my own. Why don’t you two join me? That might make the food taste sweeter, and then perhaps I might be able to eat more of it…’

  Musk smiled.

  ‘That’s just a whim of yours, Master Bao. You know it wouldn’t be right for us to eat with you.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ said Aroma. ‘We’ve often drunk wine together in the past. I think it can be allowed as an exception, to cheer him up. Though of course as a regular practice it would be quite out of the question.’

  So the three of them sat down, Bao-yu at the head and the two maids at either side of the table. After breakfast, one of the junior maids brought in the ‘rinsing’ tea, and Musk and Aroma supervised the clearing of the table. The tea was served and Bao-yu sat in gloomy silence again.

  ‘Is the room ready yet?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘Ripple came in earlier on to tell you,’ said Musk. ‘What a silly question!’

  After sitting there a moment longer, he made his way over to Skybright’s old room. Having lit a stick of incense and arranged the fruit on the table, he dismissed all the maids and closed the door. Aroma and the others stood outside with bated breath.

  He selected a length of pink paper with a gold-splash on it and flower patterns in the corners, said a short prayer, raised his brush and began to write:

  FROM

  GREEN BOY

  TO

  SISTER SKYBRIGHT

  MAY THIS ODE

  OFFERED

  WITH

  LIBATION OF TEA

  AND

  BURNING OF PRECIOUS INCENSE

  FIND

  ACCEPTANCE

  IN YOUR SIGHT

  O Sweetest and most

  Inseparable friend!

  Alas! that in so cruel a storm

  Your life should end!

  Your voice is gone, its tender

  Music none can learn.

  Forever eastward flows the stream,

  Never to return.

  Though dreams may never show

  Your face to me again,

  I see the Peacock Cape and feel

  A haunting pain.

  When he had finished writing, Bao-yu took a burning joss-stick, held the paper to it and set the ode alight. He sat in silence until the bundle of incense-sticks had burned to the end, then opened the door and walked out.

  ‘Why are you coming out again so soon?’ inquired Aroma. ‘Are you feeling low again?’

  He feigned a laugh.

  ‘I was rather depressed earlier on. I needed to be on my own for a bit in a quiet place. I feel better now. I think I shall take a stroll.’

  He walked straight out into the Garden. When he reached the Naiad’s House, he called from the courtyard:

  ‘Is Cousin Lin at home?’

  ‘Who’s that?’ replied Nightingale.

  She raised the door-curtain and saw him standing there.

  ‘Oh it’s you, Master Bao,’ she said with a smile. ‘Miss Lin is inside. Please come in and sit down.’

  As Bao-yu went in with her, Dai-yu’s voice could be heard from the inner room:

  ‘Nightingale, please ask Master Bao to come in and wait a moment.’

  Bao-yu, walking towards the inner room, stopped to admire the pair of calligraphic scrolls that hung one on either side of the doorway. The calligraphy looked recent and had been done on strips of dark purple paper, splashed with gold and decorated with a pattern of clouds and dragons. The two lines ran:

  Through casement green the moon shines brightly still;

  In bamboo chronicles the ancients are but empty words.

  Bao-yu read them with an appreciative smile and passed through into the inner room.

  ‘What are you doing, coz?’ he inquired with a smile.

  Dai-yu stood up, took a couple of steps towards him, smiled and said:

  ‘Please sit down. I’m copying out part of this sutra. I only have two lines left to do. I’ll just finish and then we can sit and chat.’

  She told Snowgoose to pour him some tea.

  ‘Please carry on writing,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Don’t take any notice of me.’

  His attention had been caught by a painting hanging on the centre wall of the room. It was a vertical scroll showing Chang E, the Moon Goddess, with one of her attendants, and another fairy, also with an attendant who was carrying what seemed to be a long bag containing clothes. Apart from the clouds that surrounded the figures, there were no background details of any kind. The linear style of the picture was reminiscent of the Song master Li Long-mian. It bore the title ‘The Contest in the Cold’, written in the antique ba-fen style.

  ‘Have you hung this picture of the Contest in the Cold here recently, coz?’ asked Bao-yu.

  ‘Yes. I remembered it yesterday while they were tidying the room, and so I brought it out and told them to hang it up.’

  ‘What’s the allusion in the title?
’

  Dai-yu laughed.

  ‘Surely you know! It’s such a well-known poem…’

  ‘I can’t quite recall it at present,’ confessed Bao-yu, smiling rather sheepishly. ‘Please tell me.’

  ‘Don’t you remember Li Shang-yin’s lines:

  Braving the cold,

  Fairy Frost and Lady Moon

  Parade their rival charms…’?

  ‘Of course!’ exclaimed Bao-yu. ‘How exquisite! And what an unusual subject! This is the perfect time of year to have it up too.’

  He continued to amble round the room, inspecting it in a leisurely fashion, and Snowgoose brought him a cup of tea. He drank his tea, and in a few minutes Dai-yu finished the section of the sutra she was copying, and stood up.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she said.

  ‘You know you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me,’ he replied with a smile.

  He observed that she was wearing a little pale blue fur-lined dress embroidered with flowers, and an ermine-lined sleeveless jacket, while her hair was coiled up in her everyday style and had no flowers in it but only a flat hairpin of purest gold. Her padded underskirt was pink, and embroidered with flowers. How graceful she seemed, as a jade tree leaning in the wind; how gentle, as a fragrant lotus whose petals are moist with dew!

  ‘Have you been playing your Qin at all these last few days?’ he inquired.

  ‘Not for a day or two. This sutra-copying makes my hands too cold.’

  ‘Maybe it’s just as well,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I know the Qin is a fine thing in its way, but I can’t see that it does any real good. I have never heard of it bringing prosperity or long life; it only seems to cause sorrow and distress. And it must be such a labour to memorize those tablatures. I think, coz, that with your delicate constitution you should avoid anything so strenuous.’

  Dai-yu smiled somewhat scornfully.

  ‘Is that the Qin you play?’ Bao-yu went on, pointing to one hanging on the wall. ‘Isn’t it rather short?’

  ‘Not really,’ explained Dai-yu. ‘When I was a little girl and first started learning, I couldn’t reach on an ordinary Qin, so we had this one specially made. It’s not a collector’s piece of course, made with wood ‘saved from the flames’ – but it has a Crane Fairy and a Phoenix Tail, and the Dragon’s Pool sound-hole and Goose Foot tuning-pegs are all in the correct proportions. And look at the crackling on the varnish. Doesn’t that look just like Cow Hair crackle to you? The fine workmanship gives it a beautiful tone.’