The Nine Cloud Dream

by Kim Man-jung

  “The Empress Dowager has already ordered that a place be made ready for her,” said Lady Wang.

  The princess was made happy by this news. They had set up a canopy, and Ch’iung-pei went in to wait until it was time for her to see the Empress Dowager.1

  After Ch’iung-pei had waited a while under the canopy, two court ladies came to her with a box containing new clothes and instructions from the Empress Dowager, which they read to her.

  Lady Cheng is the daughter of a minister and has received her gifts of marriage, but she is still dressed in the clothes of an unmarried girl. She cannot come before me dressed in that fashion, so I am sending her the ceremonial clothes of a wife of the first rank. She is to wear those when she presents herself.

  Ch’iung-pei bowed low and said, “I am yet an unmarried girl. How could I presume to wear the robes of a wife of the first rank? The clothes I wear now are not ceremonial robes, but these are what I wear before my parents. Since Her Majesty is the mother of us all, I hope she will permit me to wear these clothes when I meet her.”

  The ladies went in and reported this to the Empress Dowager, who was much impressed and had them bring Ch’iung-pei into her room right away. The ladies-in-waiting on either side of the hall admired her and made much of her. “We thought only our princess was so beautiful,” she exclaimed. “How could we not have known about such a beauty as Lady Cheng?”

  When Ch’iung-pei had made her prostrations, the court ladies guided her up to the dais and the Empress Dowager told her to sit down. “You were made to break off your engagement with Marshal Yang because he was to marry my daughter the princess,” she began. “It was a matter of state, a decision I did not make on my own. Indeed, the princess argued that to break one engagement to make another was unethical conduct, even for royalty. She suggested that both of you should marry Yang Shao-yu. I spoke with my son the Emperor about this, and we both agreed to accept the princess’s suggestion.

  “When Marshal Yang returns to the capital, we shall have him send the betrothal gifts to you once more and renew the plans for your marriage. This special dispensation has never occurred before in the history of this nation and is not likely to be given again. That is why I tell you this myself.”

  Ch’iung-pei prostrated herself in gratitude for this great favor. “Your Majesty’s grace is too much for me and beyond my greatest expectation,” she said. “This lowly being is unable to repay you. I am the daughter of a humble subject—how can I presume to accept the same status as Her Royal Highness the princess? And even if I did obey your command, my parents would regard it too great an honor and make me refuse it.”

  “Even your humility is admirable,” said the Empress Dowager. “Your family has been renowned for generations. On your father’s side it has been famous since the beginning of the dynasty. Your father was a minister who advised the late emperor. We need not concern ourselves about your status.”

  “A subject should obey the ruler the way nature follows the way of Heaven,” said Ch’iung-pei. “Whether you make me a lady-in-waiting or allow me to remain in my low status and serve as a maid, I will obey. But what about Marshal Yang? Surely he will not be agreeable to your plan. I have no brothers or sisters, and my parents are old. My only wish is to serve them so they may live in comfort the rest of their days.”

  “I appreciate your devotion to your parents,” the Empress Dowager replied. “But to sacrifice your future is not the only way you may be filial. You are beautiful and there is no fault in you. Marshal Yang will not want to give you up, and his destiny to marry the princess was clear from a single note blown on his flute. It is the will of Heaven. Yang is a hero whose like has not been seen in a hundred years, so I see nothing wrong in his having two wives.

  “Once I had two daughters, but Lan-yang’s sister died at the age of ten, and I have always worried that Lan-yang would be lonely. But seeing you, I see my dead daughter. I would like to adopt you. I will tell the Emperor to give you a royal title. It will be a sign of my love for my first daughter, and it will allow Lan-yang to be with you as she wishes. And it will permit you to marry Yang with her. What do you think?”

  But Ch’iung-pei bowed her head once again and said, “If that is what you decide, I do not know if I can bear it. Please—change your mind and let me go on in peace as I was.”

  “I shall tell the Emperor of this and leave the final decision to him. Do not be obstinate!” The Empress Dowager sent for the princess, who came dressed in her ceremonial robes and stood next to Ch’iung-pei. That brought a smile to the Empress Dowager’s face. “You wanted Lady Cheng as your sister and now I cannot tell which of you is the younger! Did you get what you wished for?” The Empress Dowager took Ch’iung-pei by the hands to show that she had become an adopted daughter.

  The princess was overjoyed and, bowing to her mother, she said, “What you did is most appropriate and just. I cannot tell you how happy it makes me.”

  The Empress Dowager now treated Ch’iung-pei with a respectful affection and turned their conversation to classical poetry. “I have heard from the princess that you are a very gifted poet. The palace is beautiful and peaceful in the spring. Would you compose a poem for my pleasure? In the old days there was a tradition of the seven-character line. Could you do that?”

  Ch’iung-pei bowed. “Since it is your wish, I will write one, but the result may only amuse you.”

  The Empress Dowager made one of the court ladies go and stand at the front of the hall. She was about to announce the theme for the poem when Princess Lan-yang interrupted. “How can you ask my sister to stand there and write one all by herself? I would like to write one, too.”

  The Empress Dowager was very happy. “What an excellent idea,” she said. “I shall propose something fresh and new.”

  It was late spring, and beyond the railing of the pavilion, the peach trees were covered in blossoms. All at once, a magpie sang out from its perch in the branches. The Empress Dowager pointed to it. “I have just decided on the issue of your marriages and now the magpie marks the happy occasion. How auspicious! So that will be the theme. You must use seven characters in a four-line stanza, and conclude with an allusion to the betrothal.

  She ordered the ladies-in-waiting to prepare paper and brushes.

  When the princess and Ch’iung-pei lifted their brushes to begin, the lady at the front of the hall began to take her seven measured steps. The brushes flickered like a sudden cloudburst, and they were finished before the lady had gone more than five.

  The Empress Dowager read Ch’iung-pei’s poem first.

  A happy magpie circles the inner palace

  As spring breathes over the peach blossoms.

  Come—nest in comfort—fly not south;

  A pair of stars twinkles in the eastern sky.

  Then she read the one composed by the princess.

  Myriad peach blossoms in the deepening spring,

  A happy magpie, bringing good news,

  With a great push, bridges the Milky Way,

  And two of Heaven’s children—their timely joining.

  “I have two daughters who are like Li T’ai Po and Ts’ao Chih,”2 she declared, surprised by their talent. “If the court were to choose officials from among women, you two would be the best.” She showed each poem to the other girl and they sighed in mutual admiration.

  The princess said to her mother, “My stanza could have been written by anyone, but Ch’iung-pei’s poem is so refined that mine does not even bear comparison.”

  “That is true,” said the Empress Dowager. “But yours is also neatly structured and quite delightful.”

  12

  SHAO-YU’S REGRET

  At that moment, the Emperor came to see his mother.

  The Empress Dowager sent the princess and Ch’iung-pei into the next room. “For the sake of the princess’s marriage, I
have had Marshal Yang return his betrothal gifts so as not to violate our customs,” she said to the Emperor. “The Chengs would not find it acceptable for their daughter to be made a wife of equal status to the princess, and I simply cannot ask her to be a concubine. I had Lady Cheng here today, and she is beautiful and talented, worthy of being a sister to the princess. So I would like to make her my daughter and have her marry Yang together with the princess. What do you think of this?”

  The Emperor was pleased. “It appears to be the blessing of Heaven,” he replied. “Your grace is like that of ancient times, imbued with profound virtue, and I have no qualms about your decision.”

  The Empress Dowager called Ch’iung-pei to meet the Emperor, who told her to come up to the dais. “Now that Lady Cheng is the princess’s older sister, how can it be that she is still wearing the clothes of a commoner?” he asked.

  “It is because you have not said otherwise, but we will find her clothes appropriate for court,” said the Empress Dowager, and she ordered the ladies-in-waiting to bring a bolt of crimson silk decorated with two phoenixes.

  When it was brought in by Ch’in Ts’ai-feng, the Emperor took it, and as he raised his brush to write the royal edict, he asked his mother, “If we make her a princess, should we not also give her our family name?”

  “That was my original intention,” said the Empress Dowager. “But the Chengs are elderly and she is their only child. It would be a shame if there was no one to carry on the family name. It troubles me. So, for their sake, and to show our generosity, let us allow her to keep her own surname.”

  The Emperor dipped his brush in black ink and wrote in bold characters:

  Honoring the wish of Her Majesty the Empress Dowager, I hereby declare Cheng Ch’iung-pei to be the adopted daughter of Her Imperial Majesty and decree that she shall henceforth be called Princess Ying-yang.

  When he was finished writing, he and the Empress Dowager stamped it with their royal seals. It was given to Ch’iung-pei, and the ladies-in-waiting were told to dress her in royal robes.

  Ch’iung-pei came down from the dais and bowed to express her thanks. The Emperor determined the order of their seats in court, but Ying-yang, though she was a year older than Princess Lan-yang, declined to take the seat closer to the throne.

  The Empress Dowager said to her, “You are now my daughter, the princess Ying-yang. The elder sits above and the younger below. That is the prescribed relationship for both brothers and sisters. How can you refuse it for the sake of humility?”

  Ying-yang bowed and said, “Let us decide the order of sitting at another time. How could I not be humble?”

  Princess Lan-yang said, “In the time of The Annals of Spring and Autumn, Chao Shuai’s wife, who was the daughter of Duke Wen of Chin, gave up the first seat to the senior wife. We are sisters and you are older. What misgivings could you possibly have?”

  But Princess Ying-yang persisted, and in the end the Empress Dowager had to order the matter to be settled according to age. Afterward, Ch’iung-pei was known as Princess Ying-yang and the court ladies served her faithfully.

  The Empress Dowager showed the poems the two princesses had written to the Emperor, and he praised them both. “They are exquisite,” he said. “But Ying-yang’s poem alludes to the ancient Book of Songs and also pays homage to Lan-yang’s poem.”

  “True,” said the Empress Dowager.

  “You love Ying-yang so much,” said the Emperor. “I have never seen you like this before. Now it is my turn to ask a favor of you.” He told the Empress Dowager about the lady secretary Ch’in Ts’ai-feng. “Her father was executed for his offense,” he said. “But her ancestors were all loyal subjects. Let us be sympathetic to her situation and allow her to marry Marshal Yang and be his concubine after the two princesses are married to him. Would you be kind enough to permit this?”

  The Empress Dowager turned to the princesses.

  “Lady Ch’in told me her story long ago,” said Princess Lan-yang. “I am very close to her and neither of us wishes to be separated from the other. Even if I do not order it, it is what I would want.”

  So the Empress Dowager called Ch’in Ts’ai-feng before her and said, “The princess wants to live with you through life and death, so I am ordering you to become Marshal Yang’s concubine. From now on you must do your utmost to repay the kindness she has shown you.”

  Ts’ai-feng was so deeply moved she burst into tears as she expressed her gratitude.

  The Empress Dowager said, “The marriages of the two princesses has been decided and a happy magpie has come to mark the occasion as auspicious. Both of the princesses have written poems about it, and now you must write one, too, for this momentous occasion.”

  Ts’ai-feng immediately wrote a poem and presented it to the Empress Dowager.

  Happy magpie, circling the inner palace

  As spring breathes over the peach blossoms.

  Come rest in comfort—do not fly away south—

  Stars twinkle in the eastern heavens.

  “The theme given for this poem is very constraining, and we two princesses left hardly anything that could be said,” Princess Lan-yang explained. “A new one was very hard to write, but her poem is beautiful. It alludes to the works of the masters, and there is not a fault to be found even in a single phrase—it is as if the ancient poets themselves had written it through Lady Ch’in.”

  The Empress Dowager answered, “In ancient times there were only four great women poets. Pan Chieh-yü the royal concubine, Ts’ai Yen, Cho We-chün, and Hsieh Tao-yün. But today we have three extraordinary poets here before us. It is truly a rare occasion!”

  Princess Lan-yang remarked, “Ying-yang’s servant Chia Ch’un-yün is an extraordinary poet, too.”

  By now it was getting dark and the Emperor took his leave. The two princesses retired to their bedchambers to sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning at first cockcrow, Princess Ying-yang went to the Empress Dowager and asked permission to visit her old home. She prostrated herself and said, “When I came to the palace, my parents must have been anxious and awestricken. Please—would you allow me to go and see them today? I will tell them of your graciousness and my good fortune.”

  “It is not an easy matter for a woman to leave the palace,” said the Empress Dowager. “I will invite your mother to come here instead so I may talk to her.” And she sent for Madame Ts’ui.

  * * *

  —

  The previous day, one of the maids the Chengs had sent with their daughter had returned to tell them that she had been taken to court and that she had been made the Empress Dowager’s adopted daughter. They had been much relieved and grateful.

  Madame Ts’ui, taken aback by the sudden royal summons, went quickly to the palace and was received by the Empress Dowager.

  “I took your daughter for the sake of Princess Lan-yang’s marriage,” she said. “But once I saw her loveliness was like a flower and her intelligence was incomparable, I adopted her as my own daughter, and now she is Lan-yang’s older sister. I think that she may have been my daughter in a previous incarnation, but in this one she was born into your household. Now she is the princess Ying-yang. We were going to give her the proper royal surname, but I realized that would end your lineage, so I did not have her change her surname. You have been very fortunate.”

  Madame Ts’ui bowed her head. “I had my daughter late in life,” she said. “The arrangements for her marriage failed and I wronged her so terribly that, in my shame, I did not even know where I should go to die. Then Princess Lan-yang came to our house and became friends with her, and now you have brought her to the palace. How on Earth could this be? Even by doing everything in our power, with utmost devotion, we could not hope to repay one ten-thousandth of your graciousness.

  “My husband is old and his health is failing. He has alre
ady resigned his position, but I could serve as a sweeper in the palace garden. Is there any way in Heaven and Earth to repay the Emperor for showing us such favor? I can only show my gratitude through these tears of joy.” She rose and bowed deeply, then prostrated herself again, soaking her sleeves with her tears.

  “Princess Ying-yang is my daughter now,” responded the Empress Dowager. “You cannot take her with you again.”

  Madame Ts’ui replied, still on the floor, “I wish only that I could meet with her so that I may speak to her, praising you for your grace.”1

  The Empress Dowager smiled and said, “After the wedding, Princess Lan-yang will also come to you. Care for her just as you would Ying-yang.”

  Then the Empress Dowager called for Lan-yang, and when she came, Madame Ts’ui repeatedly begged the princess to forgive her for treating her with such a lack of courtesy when she had visited.

  “I have heard there is a maid named Chia Ch’un-yün in your house,” said the Empress Dowager. “I would like to see her at once.”

  Madame Ts’ui immediately sent for Ch’un-yün, and after a short while she arrived and presented herself before the Empress Dowager. She was praised for her beauty and told to come forward.

  “Princess Lan-yang tells me you are a talented poet,” said the Empress Dowager. “Would you write a poem for me now?”

  Ch’un-yün prostrated herself, saying, “How could I possibly write a poem for Your Majesty when I am trembling so? But I will try my best if you will tell me the theme.”

  The Empress Dowager showed her the poems written earlier by the three girls and Ch’un-yün quickly composed hers and presented it.

  To express my joy, in humble devotion,

  I’ll follow the phoenixes in the palace courtyard.

  As spring’s myriad blossoms fill the Ch’in pavilion