The Nine Cloud Dream

by Kim Man-jung

  Lan-yang and Ts’ai-feng giggled, but said nothing. It was Ying-yang who replied, “We do not know of what you are speaking, my lord. If you want to know the whole story, perhaps you should begin by apologizing for your own trickery and then go and ask the Empress Dowager?” And then she told him how she had come to court with the princess.

  Shao-yu could not restrain himself any longer and he burst into laughter. “I have examined this back and forth, playing it out with divine strategy, discovering how you beauties hatched your plot. Now I respect and admire even more the way the Empress Dowager shows her love for you, nurturing you like her own daughters, showing appreciation for your virtue and the friendship between you two princesses. I will do my best to keep our lives together happy.”

  The princesses and Ts’ai-feng, abashed, listened to him in respectful silence.

  * * *

  When the Empress Dowager heard from the court ladies about Shao-yu’s feigned illness, she had a good laugh. “I suspected as much,” she said, and she summoned Shao-yu to her room. When he arrived, followed by the two princesses, she asked, “Is it true? You have renewed the broken marriage contract you made with the dead Ch’iung-pei?”

  Shao-yu bowed and answered, “Your grace is as great as the harmony of Heaven and Earth, and I could never possibly repay you.”

  “No need to flatter me for my graciousness,” said the Empress Dowager. “It was all just a practical joke, after all.”

  Later that day, when the Emperor was in the main hall holding court, his ministers reported: “A bright new star has appeared, sweet dew falls each morning, the Yellow River flows clear, and the crops are abundant for harvest. The people are tranquil now that the barbarian tribes have surrendered—all due to Your Majesty’s great virtue.”

  The Emperor received all of this with due modesty. And then they told him, “Prime Minister Yang Shao-yu has been dallying a long time in the inner palace and he is delaying matters of state that require his attention.”

  The Emperor laughed loudly at this. “The Empress Dowager has been summoning him every day—that is why he has not emerged. I will tell him myself to come out and get back to work.”

  The next day Shao-yu came out to his offices and saw to some of his official duties, and afterward he composed a letter to the Emperor asking if he could bring his mother to the capital.

  Prime Minister, Duke of Wei, and Imperial Son-in-Law Yang Shao-yu humbly addresses Your Imperial Majesty. I am originally a lowly subject from Ch’u, without rank and of little talent. I sat for the national civil examination in order to provide for my aging mother, and after being favored with success, I have spent several years in the service of the court.

  By your order, I fought and subdued powerful enemies until all of the barbarians of the west and the Tibetans were conquered. But I take no credit for this because it was all due to your virtue and imperial authority that my generals were willing to give up their lives. And yet you bestowed such high honors upon me that I was overwhelmed, and you chose me as your imperial brother-in-law, showering me with such grace and love that I know not how ever to thank you.

  My old mother hoped for no more than a handful of rice, and I dreamed of nothing more than a lowly clerkship in a government office, but now I find myself prime minister and Duke of Wei, and preoccupied with my duties, I have had no time to fetch my aging mother. Now my circumstances and hers are profoundly different—while I enjoy luxuries and honor, she still struggles in poverty, and I fail in my filial duty to her. My mother is growing older, her health is failing, and she has no other children who can look after her. She lives far away, and news is slow and scarce; it breaks my heart to think of her.

  Now that we are at peace I humbly bow to Your Majesty and hope that you will grant my sentimental request. Please give me leave to visit my ancestral graves and bring my mother back, so that I may do my filial duty and my duty to the throne. Then we may both pay our respects and receive Your Majesty’s grace, and I will do my utmost to repay Your Majesty’s favor.

  When the Emperor finished reading the letter, he said, “I am moved by your filial piety, Shao-yu.” He gave him a thousand gold ingots and eight hundred bolts of silk and told him to go see his mother right away. And when Shao-yu bowed thanks to him and went to the Empress Dowager to take his leave, she gave him more gold and silk. He thanked her also, bade good-bye to his wives and concubines, and left the palace.

  When he reached the T’ien-chin Bridge at Lo-yang, the two courtesans Kuei Ch’an-yüeh and Ti Ching-hung had been alerted by the governor and were awaiting him at the guest house. Shao-yu met them with a smile, and he asked, “I am on a personal trip not ordered by the Emperor. How did you know I would be coming?”

  They replied, “When the prime minister, Duke of Wei, and brother-in-law of the Emperor goes on a journey, it is known in the deepest mountains and the lowest valleys, so how could we not have heard of your coming? And, of course, the local governor respects us. He told us, but why didn’t you let us know yourself? Last year we were very happy when you passed this way on your mission. Now that you have risen higher in rank and your official title is even grander, our reputations will also be a hundred times greater. We have heard that you married two princesses during that time. We wonder if you will accept us now?”

  “One of them is the Emperor’s sister and the other is the daughter of Minister Cheng, who was adopted by the Empress Dowager as her daughter,” said Shao-yu. “She is the one you recommended to me, Ch’an-yüeh, so how could she not accept you? Lady Cheng and her sister have the great virtue of loving and tolerating everyone. It will surely please them to accept the two of you.”

  So Shao-yu spent the night with the two of them and started for his home village the next day.

  * * *

  Shao-yu left his mother when he was fifteen years old, a student, and now, only four years later, he returned wearing the robes of the Duke of Wei, riding in a carriage befitting only those of the highest rank, as the Emperor’s brother-in-law.

  When he went in to see his mother she clasped his hands and shed tears of joy, exclaiming, “Are you really my son Shao-yu? I can hardly believe it. Only yesterday you were learning your numbers and characters. Who would have dreamed of such glory?”

  Shao-yu told her about his achievements and how he now had two wives and concubines.

  “Your father said you would bring honor to us,” his mother replied. “I wish he were with us to see for himself.”

  Shao-yu visited his ancestral graves and held a great feast at home for his mother, celebrating with the gold and silks he had received on her behalf. He invited all his friends and relatives and the feasting went on for ten days. Afterward, he left for the capital with his mother, and all along the road, the local officials and the people came to participate in the glorious procession.

  As they passed through Lo-yang, Shao-yu asked for Ti Ching-hung and Kuei Ch’an-yüeh, but was told by the governor that they had already set out for the capital several days earlier. Shao-yu was sorry to have missed them and immediately continued onward.

  When he finally reached the capital, he took his mother through the palace grounds to his official residence, and then he went to the main audience hall to make obeisance to the Emperor.

  The Emperor and his mother the Empress Dowager called for Shao-yu’s mother, and when she presented herself they gave her ten carts loaded with gold and silver and bolts of silk. They moved her into a grand new mansion with large pavilions surrounded by great gardens dotted with lotus ponds.

  The two princesses came to make their bows, and ceremonially introduced themselves to their mother-in-law as Shao-yu’s new wives. Ts’ai-feng and Ch’un-yün also introduced themselves. Shao-yu’s mother was overjoyed and her countenance was peaceful and content.

  Following the Emperor’s orders, Shao-yu used the gifts he had received and held a three-day
feast, which was attended by the whole court. As the royal musicians played, Shao-yu sat in his colorful robes, attended by the two princesses. He passed the jade wine cup to his mother in the ceremony that introduced the new brides to his ancestors. Everyone rejoiced at the happy occasion.

  In the middle of the banquet, a gate guard came in and said, “There are two ladies outside who wish to see the prime minister and his mother. They have presented their name cards.”

  Shao-yu looked at the cards and saw they were from Ch’an-yüeh and Ching-hung. He told his mother who they were and had the guard bring them in, and when the two courtesans bowed in the courtyard beneath the stone steps, all the guests were impressed.

  “Ch’an-yüeh is from Lo-yang and Ching-hung is from Ho-pei,” his mother announced. “These names are famous and widely known. Now we see them here for the first time and they are exquisite beauties. This could only happen for a man like the prime minister!”

  When Shao-yu asked them to show off their talents, the two courtesans put on their beaded shoes. Stepping up to the platform and facing each other, they performed a dance to the tune of “The Rainbow-Feathered Robe.”

  It was like flower petals floating in a spring breeze and the shadows of clouds against a screen. It seemed as if Fei-yen, the dancer of Han, had appeared in Shao-yu’s garden, or Lu-chu, the beauty of Chin-ku, were standing on the duke’s dais.

  The two princesses gave them brocade and silk for their wonderful performance. Ts’ai-feng was an old friend of Ch’an-yüeh, and they reminisced together about the past. Princess Ying-yang personally offered a cup of wine to Ch’an-yüeh to thank her for the kindness of recommending her to Shao-yu.

  “Why are you only thanking Ch’an-yüeh?” asked Shao-yu’s mother. “Have you forgotten about my cousin the priestess?”

  “For all I am now, I am in priestess Tu’s debt,” said Shao-yu. “And now that you are here, I shall invite her here also, even without an imperial edict.”

  He sent a messenger immediately to Chu-ch’ing Temple, but the priestess there sent back a message saying she had departed for the land of Shu4 three years earlier.

  Shao-yu’s mother was sad to hear the news.

  14

  THE CONTEST OF BEAUTIES

  Shao-yu arranged for each of his women to have a place to live in his palace compound. His main hall was Ching-fu-t’ang, the Hall of Great Happiness, and that was where his mother lived. In front of that hall was Yen-hsi-t’ang, the Hall of Feasting and Celebration, where Princess Ying-yang, his senior wife, lived. To the west was Feng-sho-kung, the Palace of the Dancing Phoenix, where Princess Lan-yang lived.

  South of Yen-hsi-t’ang stood two buildings: Ning-hsiang-ko, or the Frozen Fragrance Hall, and Ch’ing-ho-lu, the Clear Harmony Pavilion, where Shao-yu himself stayed and sometimes entertained. In front of these was Yen-hsien-t’ang, the Hall for the Welcoming of Virtues, where Shao-yu received guests and took care of his official business.

  Hsin-hsing-yüan, the House of New Delights, was where Ts’ai-feng lived, and it stood to the south of Lan-yang’s palace; and to its east, next to Shao-yu’s quarters, was Ying-ch’un-ko, the Hall of Welcome Spring, whose position was fitting because that is the direction of spring.1 Ch’un-yün, whose name means “Spring Cloud,” lived there.

  South of Shao-yu’s quarters there was a small, shining pavilion with blue tiles and red balustrades, and in it were rooms for the servants from both sides of the gate that led to Shao-yu’s quarters. To the east of Frozen Fragrance Hall was Shang-hua-lu, the Flower-Viewing Pavilion, where Ch’an-yüeh lived, and on the west was Wang-yüeh-lu, the Full Moon Pavilion, where Ching-hung lived.

  Of the eighty most talented and beautiful female musicians in the empire, forty lived on the east side under Ch’an-yüeh’s direction and the other forty lived on the west under Ching-hung’s. They were instructed in singing, dancing, and music.

  Once a month, the two groups met at Ch’ing-ho-lu and would compete against each other, with the princesses leading them. Shao-yu would preside over the judging and the winners were celebrated with wine and crowned with flowers. The losers were served cold water and a spot of ink was put on their foreheads to mark their shame. Thus, all of the courtesans strove, every day, to perfect their skills.

  The most famous lady musicians in the world were those of the court of Wei and those of Prince Yüeh. Even the musicians of the imperial opera, the Pear Orchard, could not compare.

  One day, when the two princesses were with Shao-yu’s mother and the other ladies, Shao-yu brought a letter and gave it to Princess Lan-yang, saying, “I have a letter from Prince Yüeh.”

  The princesses opened it and read:

  How fares my dearest prime minister on this bright and lovely spring day? I trust the ten thousand happinesses are with you. Until recently, you have been so busy with affairs of state that you have not enjoyed any leisure. No time to enjoy the green hills or to watch the people parading by. No horses on Lo-yu-yüan. No boating parties on K’un-ming Lake. The dancing ground is overgrown with weeds.

  Now the old people in the capital are waxing nostalgic about days gone by, fondly recalling the virtue and character of the old emperor until it makes them cry to remember the glory of former times. In these times of peace and security, it is appropriate to bring back those old pleasures as in the reign of Hsüan Tsung when life in the palace was full of delight. The spring sun still sets late, the weather is pleasant, and tender willows put our hearts at ease. There is no better time to enjoy the outdoors.

  Let us get together at Lo-yu-yüan and we can hunt and enjoy some music to appreciate these times of peace and prosperity. If you find this agreeable, choose a date and let me know, for I would be delighted to be with you there.

  When Princess Lan-yang finished reading the letter, she asked Shao-yu, “Do you know what he is really getting at?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Shao-yu. “Perhaps he merely wants to enjoy the flowers and willows with me because he enjoys the pleasure of such things as a prince.”

  “I don’t think you quite understand,” said the princess. “My brother likes women and music. He has to have the most beautiful women in the palace, but once those beauties of his got a look at Wan Yü-yen, the dancer from Wu-ch’ang, they all lost face.

  “When she appeared at his palace, his women were stunned, and now they are depressed, comparing themselves to the homely Mo-mu and Wu-yen.2 Wan Yü-yen’s beauty is beyond compare.

  “My brother has heard that you have many beauties of your own, so he wants to be like Wang Kai and Shih Ch’ung and hold a contest to compare them.”

  Shao-yu laughed. “I thought his letter was perfectly straightforward, but I see now that you know your brother better than I do.”

  “Even if it’s only a game, we must be sure not to lose,” said Ying-yang, and she gestured at Ching-hung and Ch’an-yüeh to come closer. “An army trains for ten years for a single morning of battle. Winning or losing will depend entirely on the two of you as teachers. You must do your best.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t compete with them,” said Ch’an-yüeh. “The music of the prince’s palace is known everywhere, and so is Wan Yü-yen’s reputation as a dancer. With both Wan Yü-yen and his musicians, he will be unbeatable, and we are an army with little training. We lack discipline and are ignorant of tactics, and I’m afraid we may run away in the face of combat.

  “We two don’t mind being laughed at ourselves, but we cannot bring shame on this entire household.”

  “When I first met Ch’an-yüeh at Lo-yang, she told me there were three great beauties in dancing. Yü-yen was one of them. I have the other two here, so why should I be afraid of her? Like the first emperor of Han, I already have my Chang Liang and Chen P’ing, so why should I worry about Fan Tseng on Hsiang Yü’s side?”

  “There are beautiful girls in Prince Yüeh’s palace like
there are blades of grass on the Pa-kung hillside,” said Ch’an-yüeh. “Our army can only run away—we cannot compare with them. Please—I hope the two princesses will ask Ching-hung to be our strategist. I am cowardly, and even listening to myself say this makes my throat choke up and I won’t be able to sing a single note.”

  “Do you really mean that?” Ching-hung said. “We are known among the seventy towns of Kuan-tung, so how can our talent be inferior to Yü-yen’s? If we were like the women of Han or the fairies of Wu-shan, who ruined nations and cities, it would be one thing, but why should we be afraid of Yü-yen?”

  Ch’an-yüeh responded, “How can you make it sound so easy? In Kuan-tung we performed in small towns at parties for interested nobility and adventurous gentlemen and scholars. But Prince Yüeh was born and raised in the palace and so he has a discerning and critical eye. You are mistaking a mountain for a stone, Ching-hung. You are underestimating Prince Yüeh. Yü-yen is the mastermind of this plan. She is like Chang Liang, who could sit in his tent and win a battle a thousand li away. Ching-hung is bragging like Chao-kuo—she is foreseeing her own defeat. If we take this matter lightly, we are sure to lose.”

  She continued, “Ching-hung likes to brag, so I will tell you about her shortcomings. She once stole a horse from the Prince of Yen and pretended to be a boy from Ho-pei to trick you at the roadside in Han-tan. If she were truly so beautiful and delicate, how could you think she was a boy? The first night she was with you, she took my place in the dark to make her dreams come true. And now she brags to me about it. It’s funny, isn’t it?”

  Ching-hung laughed. “I cannot fathom her jealous heart,” she said. “Before I came to live with you, she praised me like I was the Maiden in the Moon. But now she is belittling me, and do you know why? It’s because she wants you all to herself.”