by Kim Man-jung
The prince took a while composing himself. “No earthly being could be so marvelous,” he said when he had finally caught his breath. “I have heard there are those among the fairies who are experts at the sword dance. Are you one of them?”
“I learned it as a child because we of the west play with weapons,” Niao-yen answered. “There is nothing to marvel at, and I am not a fairy.”
“When I return to my palace, I will pick some of my best dancing girls and send them to you for instruction. Please do not refuse them.”
Niao-yen bowed and accepted his request.
Now the prince turned to Ling-po. “And what is your special talent?” he asked.
“My home was near the Hsiao-hsiang River at Huang-ling-miao, where O-huang and Nü-ying8 would play. On clear moonlit nights when the wind was calm, the sound of lutes would echo among the clouds. From the time I was very young, I imitated that sound for my own pleasure. I fear my skill is not worthy of your ears.”
“I did not know the music of O-huang and Nü-ying were ever passed down to posterity,” said the prince. “Surely, if you know that music, there is nothing in this world that can compare.”
Ling-po drew a small lute from her sleeve and began to play. The sound was clear and plaintive, like water flowing deep in a valley or wild geese crying far off in the sky. The guests shed tears without knowing why. Reedy grasses trembled and leaves fell from the trees.
The prince was mystified. “I did not believe earthly music could change the way of Heaven,” he said. “But you have changed spring into autumn and made the leaves fall. Could an ordinary human being possibly learn to play like this?”
“It is only the remnants of old melodies,” said Ling-po. “There is nothing marvelous about it that anyone could not also learn.”
Yü-yen said to the prince, “Though I have no skill to speak of, I will play for you a tune I learned in the past. It is called ‘The White Lotus.’” And taking up a ch’in cheng, she played on the twenty-five strings, her music clear and pleasurable. Shao-yu, Ch’an-yüeh, and Ching-hung gave her high praise, and that pleased Prince Yüeh very much.
15
THE WINE PUNISHMENT
Though they were enjoying themselves and there were many amusements yet in the Shang-lin Preserve, they ended the feasting when it became dark. Rewards of gold, silver, and silk were given to the performers, and the prince and Shao-yu returned to the capital and entered the gate under moonlight.
Bells rang, and as the musicians and the dancing girls hurried to return home, their tinkling ornaments caused a din and the streets were thick with perfume. Fallen hairpins and jewelry crunched under the horses’ hooves, sounding like a distant rainstorm.
The people of the capital thronged to watch the returning company. An old man said, through his tears, “When I was young I saw the Emperor Hsüan Tsung’s procession to Hua-ch’ing Palace, and it was as stately as this. It brings me joy to live long enough to see such things again.”
* * *
Meanwhile, the two princesses and Shao-yu’s mother were awaiting him with Ts’ai-feng and Ch’un-yün. When he returned, he introduced Niao-yen and Ling-po to all of them. The two bowed at the stone steps, and Princess Ying-yang said, “The minister has told me many times that it was because of you two girls that he was able to win back two thousand li of territory. I worried that I would never meet you. Why did you come so late?”
They replied, “We are lowborn and from the frontier regions. The minister loved us once, but we worried that Your Royal Highnesses would never accept us, and so we did not dare to come.”
“But then we heard that you were kind to all the concubines and favored everyone equally without regard to rank, so we presumed to come and meet you. We happened to arrive when the minister was having his hunting party at Lo-yu-yüan, so we joined him there for the festivities. We are very fortunate to be received with such kindness.”
“The palace is full of beautiful flowers today,” the prince said to Shao-yu with a proud smile. “You are probably full of yourself thinking the credit is all yours, but you do realize this is all our doing, don’t you?”
Shao-yu laughed. “These two are newcomers in the palace. They were only flattering you because of your regal air. Do you really think you deserve all the credit?”
Now everybody laughed, and Ts’ai-feng and Ch’un-yün asked Ch’an-yüeh, “Who won at the contests today?”
Ching-hung answered first. “Ch’an-yüeh laughed at my bragging, but I put the prince and his people in their place. I was like Chu-ko who sailed to Chiang-tung in a small boat and silenced Chou Kung-chin and Lu Tzu-ching with just a few words of admonishment.1 Because my heart is big, sometimes I have a big mouth. But there is truth in boasting, and you can ask Ch’an-yüeh to confirm it.”
Then Ch’an-yüeh said, “Her archery and horsemanship are certainly amazing and praiseworthy at a feast, but I doubt she would be able to ride a single stride or shoot a single arrow in a battlefield under a storm of arrows and stones. What showed the prince up was the two newcomers and their fairylike beauty and talent, not Ching-hung’s doing. There is something I must remind her about.
“Long ago, in the time of Spring and Autumn, the minister of state, Chia, was very ugly. His wife had not smiled once in the three years following their marriage. One day, he went out into the fields with his wife and shot a pheasant with a bow and arrow. And his wife laughed for the first time. Ching-hung’s hitting the pheasant was just that kind of luck.”
Ching-hung responded, “He might have had an ugly face, but he did make his wife laugh with his skill in archery and horsemanship. But imagine if he had been a beautiful and articulate girl hitting a pheasant with that arrow. Don’t you think he would have been loved and praised even more?”
Ch’an-yüeh laughed and said to Shao-yu, “She brags about herself even more! You paid her too much attention, and now she is full of herself!”
Shao-yu joined in the laughter. “I knew you had many talents,” he said to Ch’an-yüeh. “But I had no idea you were so well versed in the classics. Now I see you can quote from The Annals of Spring and Autumn!”2
“I only read histories in my spare time,” Ch’an-yüeh said with a smile. “I really don’t think I’m well versed.”
* * *
The next morning, Shao-yu went to the palace for an audience with the Emperor, and afterward, the Empress Dowager sent for him and Prince Yüeh. The two princesses were already with her when they arrived.
“I heard you two had a contest with your pretty girls,” the Empress Dowager said to Prince Yüeh. “Who won?”
“The prime minister has so many beauties and is so blessed, no one could possibly beat him,” said the prince. “Ask him how the two princesses enjoyed it.”
Shao-yu replied, “His Highness saying that I could not be beaten is like Li Po turning pale at the sight of Ts’ui Hao’s3 inferior poems. I cannot say how the princesses enjoyed themselves. You must ask them yourself.”
The Empress Dowager looked at the two princesses, who said, “A husband and his wives are of one flesh. If he is blessed, we are blessed. If he is beaten, we are beaten, and if he is happy, then we are happy, too.”
“They do not mean what they say!” exclaimed the prince. “There has never been such a degenerate imperial son-in-law! The moral laws of society are corrupted because of him. You should have him prosecuted by the Ministry of Justice and punished for his contempt for the laws of the state.”
The Empress Dowager took all this to be a joke. “Well, he may scoff at the law,” she said. “But if there is a trial it will cause undue worry for my daughters and for me in my old age. Let us deal with it privately.”
But the prince persisted. “Then let him be examined in front of you, and once a verdict has been reached, we can deal with him appropriately.” He quickly dashed off a list of charges and sign
ed his mother’s name to them.
No imperial son-in-law has ever dared to take concubines, not because he did not desire it, nor because he could not support them, but to maintain the imperial prestige and to show reverence for the state. The two princesses Ying-yang and Lan-yang are my own daughters. They are as regal as Jen and Szu of ancient times. And yet you, Yang Shao-yu, have shown no regard for any of this.
You have collected pretty girls. You have fed your hungry eyes with the beautiful women of Yen and Chao and your hungry ears with the sensual songs of Chen and Wei. You have made girls swarm like ants in my daughters’ pavilions and terraces and buzz in their chambers like bees.
Through virtue of good breeding and generosity they have shown no jealousy, but how could you presume to abuse the princesses in this way? Your sins of pride and debauchery must not go unpunished, and therefore you will refrain from prevarication and confess everything before receiving your sentence.
Shao-yu stepped down from the dais and took off his official headdress as he listened to the charges leveled against him, read out loud by the prince. Then he began his confession.
“I have insinuated myself into Your Majesties’ favor and thus risen to the rank of prime minister, received numerous undeserved honors, and married two princesses of incomparable beauty. I had all a man could dream to have, and yet, full of covetousness, I acquired second wives, concubines, and many singing and dancing girls.
“I married Princess Lan-yang by order of the Emperor, and according to the laws of the state, as I understand them, the imperial son-in-law may take concubines before marrying the princess. I did take concubines, but only before my marriage or while I was out on my military campaigns on the frontier. I have not violated the law or failed in my duty as a subject, and it is my hope that you will take this into account when you deliver your judgment. I humbly await your sentence.”
Hearing this, the Empress Dowager laughed and said, “Having many concubines is an easy thing for me to forgive. What concerns me is his excessive drinking.”
“You must investigate this further,” said Prince Yüeh.
Shao-yu hung his head in shame, causing the Empress Dowager to burst into laughter once again. “He is the prime minister,” she said. “I can hardly go on treating him like a little boy!” She made him put his headdress back on and come up onto the dais.
“His high rank makes it difficult to punish him,” said Prince Yüeh. “But the law must be upheld, so I suggest you condemn him to the wine punishment.”4
When the Empress Dowager agreed, the court ladies brought a cup.
“The prime minister drinks like a whale!” exclaimed the prince. “What use is a small cup like this?”
So they brought a huge golden bowl and filled it to the brim with strong wine, and though he could hold his liquor well, Shao-yu could not help but be drunk by the time he had drained it.
“The Herder Boy was scolded by his father-in-law because he loved the Weaver Girl too much,”5 he said. “And me—because I have so much love, I am being punished by my mother-in-law. It is hard being the son-in-law to the Empress Dowager. Now that I am drunk, please let me go.” He collapsed as he tried to get up.
The Empress Dowager laughed. “Help him to the gate,” she told the court ladies. To the two princesses, she said, “He will have a terrible headache in the morning. Go take care of him.”
They protested that he had more than enough women to take care of him, but they did as they were told.
* * *
Shao-yu’s mother was waiting for him, with candles lit, in the main hall. When he returned in his drunken state, she exclaimed, “What happened? I’ve seen you drinking plenty of times, but I’ve never seen you so intoxicated before.”
“It was my punishment,” Shao-yu said. After glowering at the princesses a while with his drunken eyes, he spoke again. “Their brother, Prince Yüeh, made accusations against me to the Empress Dowager. All fabricated! I spoke well in my defense. I proved myself innocent. But the prince insisted I was guilty and made the Empress Dowager give me the wine punishment! If I couldn’t hold so much liquor, I would be dead now! All because I beat him yesterday. He wanted revenge!
“And Lan-yang is jealous because I have so many concubines, so she and the prince hatched this plot to get back at me. So don’t believe a thing she says—now or in the past! Make her drink a glass of wine, too, to show my displeasure.”
“You can’t be sure she’s guilty,” Shao-yu’s mother replied. “And she’s never had a glass of wine in all her life. If you insist on my punishing her, I will make her drink tea instead.”
“No!” said Shao-yu. “It has to be wine!”
His mother said to the princess, “If you do not drink the wine, his offended heart will never be satisfied.” She called a maid to serve a cup of wine to Lan-yang. The princess took the cup and was about to put it to her lips when Shao-yu suddenly tried to snatch it away from her. She quickly threw the cup to the floor.
Shao-yu dipped his finger in the overturned cup and tasted what was left. It was honeyed water.
“If the Empress Dowager had given me honeyed water as my punishment, you could have given her the same,” Shao-yu said to his mother. “But what I drank was wine, so the princess must drink wine, too.”
This time he poured the wine himself and gave it to Lan-yang to drink. Having no choice, she drank it all.
“She was the one who urged the Empress Dowager to punish me,” Shao-yu said. “But Princess Ying-yang was also in on it. She sat next to the Empress Dowager and watched me humiliate myself, and all she did was laugh and wink at Lan-yang. I cannot trust her, either. So punish her, too.”
Now Shao-yu’s mother laughed, and she had a cup of wine sent to Ying-yang, who moved to another seat and drank it all down.
“The Empress Dowager punished you because you have too many concubines,” said Shao-yu’s mother. “Now that the two princesses have been punished with you, how can you leave your concubines alone?”
Shao-yu answered, “Prince Yüeh held the contest to have a look at our beauties and compare them. But my four concubines did well and defeated him. He was furious, and felt obliged to retaliate. That is why he had me punished today, so they must also be punished.”
“You mean to punish the ones who helped you win?” his mother said. “That’s ridiculous drunken talk.” But she went ahead and gave each of the four girls a cup of wine.
After they had all drunk, Ching-hung and Ch’an-yüeh knelt in front of Shao-yu’s mother. “The Empress Dowager punished him because he has many wives, not because we won the contest,” they said. “Niao-yen and Ling-po took the wine punishment. Won’t they feel it’s unfair? But Ch’un-yün has been with him for a long time and he loves her too much. She wasn’t punished only because she didn’t take part in the contest! How can we not be resentful?”
“You are right,” said Shao-yu’s mother, and she gave a large cup of wine to Ch’un-yün, who drank it between fits of laughter.
Now they had all endured the wine punishment and they were all drunk. Lan-yang was quite sick and Ts’ai-feng sat silently in a corner without even a smile.
“Ts’ai-feng is the only one not affected by the wine,” said Shao-yu, and he poured another cup and gave it to her. She cracked a smile and drank it down.
Shao-yu’s mother said to Lan-yang, “You aren’t used to drinking. Are you all right?”
“I feel sick,” said the princess.
Shao-yu’s mother had Ts’ai-feng help the princess to her bedroom, and she had Ch’un-yün fill another cup. She took it and said, “My two daughters-in-law are imperial princesses. I will worry constantly that we will lose all our blessings because Shao-yu has offended them with his drunken debauchery. If the Empress Dowager hears of this, she is bound to be upset. I have failed in my duty of raising a son, and it has led to this disgrace
. I cannot deny responsibility or claim that I have not sinned, and so I shall drink this cup as punishment.” And she drank it all.
Shao-yu knelt before her in shock. “You have punished yourself because of me,” he said. “How can I ever live down this humiliation? I deserve more punishment than the spankings you gave me when I was little.”6 He told Ching-hung to fill another large cup up to the brim. “I have not lived as you taught me, Mother, and I have caused you nothing but grief. So I make this confession and receive this punishment.” And he drained the cup.
Soon Shao-yu was so drunk he could no longer sit up. He could only gesture to Ch’un-yün’s quarters. Shao-yu’s mother asked Ch’un-yün to take him there, but she protested, “I can’t take him because Ch’an-yüeh and Ching-hung would be too jealous.”
So Shao-yu’s mother asked the other two girls instead, but Ch’an-yüeh said, “Ch’un-yün refused because of what I said, so I won’t do it, either.”
Ching-hung laughed and helped Shao-yu back to his feet, and soon afterward they all went off to bed.
* * *
Shao-yu knew that Niao-yen and Ling-po loved beautiful landscapes. In the corner of one of his palace gardens there was a lotus pond with water as clear as a natural lake, and in the middle of it stood a pavilion called Ying-o-lu, Radiant Beauty. That was where Ling-po lived. On the south side of the lotus pond there was a formation of rocks with pointed peaks like cut jade and stone walls so sheer and smooth they looked like stacked plates of metal. There, in the shadows of old pines and bamboo, stood a small pavilion called Ping-hsüeh-hsüan, the Hall of Ice and Snow,7 and this was Niao-yen’s home. When Shao-yu’s wives or concubines came to the mountains in the garden, Niao-yen and Ling-po were the hostesses.