After his brother’s departure Wu Da had to endure his wife’s scoldings for several days, but he held himself in check, swallowed his wrath, and let her scold him. He did what his brother had told him, and made only half the number of cakes he had made before. Every day he returned before sunset and, setting down his baskets, pulled down the shutters and closed the outer gate before he came to sit down in the room. His wife saw this, and grew more and more resentful every day. “You horrible creature,” she said at length, “one would think you couldn’t tell the time. Even jailers don’t bar the prison gate while the sun is still in the heavens. Our neighbors must be in fits of laughter and think we are afraid of ghosts. You are just like a newborn babe who has to do what his brother tells him. Aren’t you ashamed to have everybody laughing at you?”
“Let them laugh,” Wu Da said. “What my brother said is true enough, and may save us much trouble yet.”
“Pah, you vile creature!” his wife shouted, and spat in his face. “You, a grown-up man, have no will of your own, but have to do whatever anybody tells you.”
“Say what you like,” Wu Da said with a gesture of weariness. “To me my brother’s words are as gold and precious stones.” He continued to go out late and return early, and he still shut the door as soon as he got home. This so infuriated his wife that she almost had a fit; she quarreled with him so incessantly that trouble seemed to have become a habit. About the time for his return, she would pull down the shutter and bolt the door, thinking that so she would annoy him, but instead of making him angry, this gave him considerable secret satisfaction and he thought: “If she takes things like this, so much the better for all concerned.”
The sun’s bright horses galloped past the window, and the sun and moon raced like a weaver’s shuttles. It seemed but a moment since the winter solstice passed and it was the season when the plum trees blossom, yet now the weather was giving warning of spring’s return. One day, in the third month, the sun shone so pleasantly that Jinlian decided to dress herself in her best clothes. Wu Da was out, and she was standing by the door beneath the lattice. Thinking it was nearly time for his return, she prepared to pull down the shutter and go back to the room to wait for him. But now the fates intervened. A man passed beneath the lattice.
In affairs of the heart we always find that Fate brings the lovers together, and a story would not be worth the telling if accidents never happened. Jinlian was holding the pole and preparing to pull down the shutter, when a gust of wind suddenly blew it out of her hand. She could not catch it, and it fell upon the man’s head. She smiled her apologies, and stole a look at him. Upon his head he wore a tasseled hat, and golden filigree hairpins, with one of the signs of the zodiac edged with jade. Over slender hips he wore a green silk gown and on his feet a pair of fine but heavily soled shoes, with socks as white as the purest water. He was fanning himself with a gilt fan. He was indeed as handsome as Master Zhang, and worthy of comparison with Pan An.
Jinlian peeped at him from under the lattice. When first the pole struck him, he stopped and seemed on the point of an angry outburst, but, as he turned, he suddenly beheld an incredibly pretty woman.
Her hair was black as a raven’s plumage; her eyebrows mobile as the kingfisher and as curved as the new moon. Her almond eyes were clear and cool, and her cherry lips most inviting. Her nose was noble and exquisitely modeled, and her dainty cheeks beautifully powdered. Her face had the delicate roundness of a silver bowl. As for her body, it was as light as a flower, and her fingers as slender as the tender shoots of a young onion. Her waist was as narrow as the willow, and her white belly yielding and plump. Her feet were small and tapering; her breasts soft and luscious. One other thing there was, black-fringed, grasping, dainty, and fresh, but the name of that I may not tell. Words fail to describe the charm of so beauteous a vision.
Her luxuriant coal-black hair was as thick as the clouds. On each side she wore small pins and, at the back, a pair of combs with a cleverly fashioned flower. Two peach flowers adorned her willow-leaf eyebrows. The jade pendants she wore were remarkable, but the glory of her uncovered bosom was that of jade beyond all price. She wore a blue gown bound with a long silk-embroidered sash, and in her cuff a tiny satchel of perfumes. Beneath her delicate throat, a many-buttoned corsage concealed her breast.
Her feet were graced by tiny shoes made like the mountain crow, with tips embroidered to look like the claws. Their high heels were of white silk, so that she seemed always to walk upon a fragrant dust. Her scarlet silken trousers were decorated with birds and flowers and, as she sat or when she rose, the wind would puff out her skirts and flowing undergarments. From her mouth there came a perfume as delicious as that of orchides and musk, while her cherry lips and beautiful cheeks had the glory of a flower. One glimpse of this vision, and the souls of men would flutter away and die. Many handsome young men might perish at the sight.
No sooner had the man set eyes upon all this beauty than he became almost beside himself with desire. His anger sped to Java and his face was quickly wreathed in smiles. Jinlian knew that she was to blame for the disaster, so she made a graceful reverence and said, “The wind suddenly blew the pole out of my hand, and I had the misfortune to strike you. Please do not be angry with me.”
The man set his hat straight with one hand, and made a reverence so low that he almost swept the ground. “Lady,” he said, “it was not of the slightest consequence. You may do with me what you will.”
It so happened that the neighbor, old woman Wang, the tea seller, had seen everything that happened. She was greatly entertained. “Who may you be, Sir,” she cried, “who pass by this house to be welcomed with blows upon the head?”
The man laughed. “It was all my fault. I should have been more careful. Please don’t be vexed with me, Lady.”
“Don’t beat me,” said the old woman Wang, still enjoying the joke. The man laughed again, and bowed most profoundly to express his regret. His roguish eyes, experienced in amorous adventure and well versed in the value of a woman’s charms, could not look away from Jinlian. At last he went off, strutting and waving his fan, though not without turning around seven or eight times.
Jinlian had no sooner set eyes upon the man with his engaging manner and lively ways, no sooner heard him speak so winningly and brightly, than she fell head over heels in love with him. She had no idea who he was or where he lived, but she rightly concluded that he would not have turned his head so often unless he reciprocated her feelings in some measure. She stayed beneath the lattice until he was out of sight and then, pulling down the shutter, closed the door and went back to her room.
You may have guessed who this man was. None other than that chief of those who sought the pleasures of the couch, that captain of those who gather precious treasure and pursue unlawful fragrance, his Lordship Ximen. His third wife had just died and been given a solemn burial and, being distressed in mind, he was taking a stroll along the street intending to call upon Ying Bojue and thus secure a little distraction from his gloom. As he passed by Wu Da’s house, he received, as we have seen, an unexpected blow on the head. But now that he had seen Jinlian under the lattice, Master Ximen went home again. “That was a splendid woman,” he thought. “I wonder how I can get hold of her.” He suddenly remembered old woman Wang, the neighbor who kept a tea shop. “She seems a clever old body,” he said to himself, “and, if she can bring this affair to the conclusion I desire, she shall have a few taels of silver.” He did not stay to eat anything, but hurried off to the street and dashed to old woman Wang’s tea shop. He went in and took a seat, looking out beneath the awning.
“That was a very fine bow you made, Sir,” said old woman Wang, laughing.
“Please come here, Stepmother,” Ximen said. “That young neighbor of yours—er—that young woman—ahem— whose wife is she?”
“Oh,” the old woman replied, “she is the sister of the King of Hell, the daughter of General Wu Dao. What makes you ask?”
�
�Don’t treat the matter as a joke,” Ximen said. “I am speaking seriously.”
“Surely you know, Sir,” said old woman Wang. “Her husband sells cakes outside the Town Hall.”
“What! Xu the Third?” Ximen said.
The old woman shook her head. “No, if it were he, they would be something like a pair. Guess again, Sir.”
“Perhaps it is Li the Third, then: he sells cakes.”
The old woman shook her head again. “No, if he were the man, I should think they were perfectly matched.”
“Well, then,” Ximen cried, “it must be Liu Xiao. You know: the man they call Tattooed Arms.”
Still the old woman laughed. “No,” she said, “even if it were he, I should say they were a well-mated couple. Guess once more, Sir.”
“I can’t guess, Stepmother,” Ximen said almost in despair, while the old woman roared with laughter.
“Well, I’ll tell you. Her husband is that fellow Wu Da, who hawks his cakes about the streets.”
When Ximen Qing heard this, he nearly jumped out of his chair. “You can’t mean that Wu Da whom people call Tom Thumb or Old Scraggy Bark.”
“That is the man,” replied the old woman.
“Good Heavens,” Ximen cried. “What a tasty piece of lamb to fall into a dog’s mouth. However can it have happened?”
“It is always the same,” old woman Wang replied. “You always find a beautiful horse ridden by some fool of a man, and a pretty girl sleeping with a husband who is not fit to be seen. The old Man in the Moon works things that way.”
“How much do I owe you?” Ximen said.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” the old woman replied. “We will leave it till another time.”
“With whom is your son Wang Chao working now?” Ximen asked.
“He is away with a merchant, a native of Huai, but really he has been away so long that I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.”
“Why not let him come to me? He seems to be a smart lad.”
“I am glad he meets with your approval.”
“Very well,” Ximen said, “when he comes back we must talk about the matter again.” He thanked the old woman and went away. But in less than no time he was back again, sitting once more near the door that looked upon Wu Da’s house.
“May I offer you some damson broth, Sir?” said old woman Wang, when she came out.
“I should like some very much,” Ximen said, “but let it be a little sour, if you don’t mind.” The old woman made the broth, and offered it to him with both hands. When he had finished it, he put down the cup. “You make excellent damson broth, Stepmother,” he said. “Have you got many dam-sons in your room there?”
“I have dealt in damsons all my life,” the old woman said, “but I never keep them in my room.”
“I was talking about damsons, not damsels,” said Ximen. “You are getting a little mixed up.”
“It was damsels you were thinking about, nonetheless,” the old lady retorted.
“Well,” said Ximen, “you admit you sell damsels. What about finding one for me? If you can let me have a nice tasty one, you won’t lose by it.”
“You are only teasing me,” the old woman said. “If your wife heard about it, my old face would have a rough time.”
“Not at all,” Ximen said. “My wife is a most amiable woman, and I have several girls already, but none of them is exactly what I want. If you have a really good girl on your books, you must introduce her to me. I don’t care whether she is somebody else’s leavings or not, but she must be a woman who will satisfy me.”
“Ah,” the old woman said, “a few days ago I did hear of an excellent girl, but I’m afraid she wouldn’t do for you.”
“If she is the right stuff, just go ahead, and you shall be well paid for your pains.”
“She is more than usually good-looking,” said the old lady, “but rather old, perhaps.”
“Well,” said Ximen, “people have always said that a middle-aged woman has a charm all her own. It will not put me off if she happens to be a year or two older than I am. But how old is she?”
“She was born under the planet Mercury and her animal is the Pig, so as my reckoning goes, she will be ninety-three years old next New Year.”
“You crazy old woman,” Ximen cried. “Why do you screw up your silly old face and make fun all the time?” It was getting late and he decided to go away. The old woman had lighted her lamp and was going to fasten the gate, when Ximen Qing once again appeared. He sat down under the awning and gazed with longing eyes at Wu Da’s house.
“Would you like a little allspice soup?” old woman Wang said.
“Yes, please,” said Ximen, “but let it be sweet.” The old woman hastily brought some soup, and he ate it all. He sat there till it was very late. At last he stood up. “Please make out my bill, old lady, and I will pay you next time I come.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the old woman said; “we shall certainly have another opportunity of settling it.” Ximen Qing laughed and went away.
At home, he could take no pleasure either eating or sleeping; his heart was consumed with desire for Jinlian. Wu Yueniang saw him in this sad state, but thought it was because of his third wife’s death, and did not trouble him. Next morning, as soon as it was light and old woman Wang came out to unbolt her gate, Ximen Qing was already striding down the street.
“Ah,” she thought, “new brooms sweep clean, and this one seems to be doing all its sweeping in this direction. I must keep the young man on tenterhooks for a while. In his dealings with the people here, he always manages to come off best, but if I get him into my clutches, I shall be surprised if I can’t squeeze a little bawdy money out of him.”
Old woman Wang’s past history was none too creditable. She had been an efficient and busy go-between all her life, and occasionally dealt in children. She had also practiced midwifery, applying the requisite pressure to the mother and receiving the little ones on their arrival. In short, she was a thoroughly accomplished rogue.
The old woman had just opened her door to throw out the tea leaves when she saw Ximen Qing pacing up and down. Finally he came towards the tea shop and stood underneath the awning facing Wu Da’s door. He was looking up at the lattice as though he could not take his eyes from it. The old woman pretended not to see him, and went on making a fire in her tea shop, until Ximen Qing, finding that she did not come out to offer him any tea, called to her to bring two cups.
“Ah,” the old woman said, “is that you, my lord? Why have you allowed so long a time to pass without coming to see me? Please take a seat.” In a few moments, she had made two cups of very strong tea and set them on the table.
“You’ll take a cup with me, Stepmother, won’t you?” Ximen said.
“I am not your shadow,” the old woman said, laughing. “Why should I always drink tea with you?”
Ximen Qing laughed. “What do these neighbors of yours sell?”
“Roasted love darts; dried cuckoo’s nests with parsley all around them; good fresh mincemeat; rolls all ready to be stuffed; oyster dumplings, and warm-heart pastries.”
“You mad old woman,” Ximen said, laughing. “I do wish you would talk sense.”
“I am not mad by any means,” said the old woman. “If you would rather go and ask the master of the house, you will find him at home.”
“I am quite serious,” Ximen said. “If they have good buns there, I should like to buy forty or fifty and take them home with me.”
“There is no need to go to the house to buy them. The man will be going to the street in a minute or two, and you can get as many as you like.”
“That is true,” said Ximen. He drank his tea, lingered for a while, and at last went away. Old woman Wang watched him with her stony eyes, and saw him pacing to and fro, looking first to the right and then to the left. This he did seven or eight times. At last he came back to the tea shop.
“How do you do, Sir?” the old lady said. “I h
ad almost forgotten what you look like.”
Ximen Qing took a tael of silver from his sleeve and handed it to her. “This is for my tea,” he said.
The old woman smiled. “Why do you give me so much?”
“I should take it if I were you,” said Ximen, “and not trouble how much it is.”
“Now,” thought the old woman, “my chance has come. It is time this broom lost some of its bristles. I will take this today, and it will doubtless come in for my lodging tomorrow.” She said aloud, “I see there is something you have set your heart upon.”
“What makes you think that?” Ximen said.
“It is not very hard to see. There is an old saying, ‘When a man enters your door, don’t trouble to ask whether he is in luck or not. Look at his face.’ I can assure you I’ve guessed things far more difficult than that.”
“If you can guess what I am thinking about,” said Ximen, “you shall have five taels of silver.”
Old woman Wang laughed. “One guess will be enough. Let me whisper in your Lordship’s ear. You have been haunting this neighborhood for two or three days, and it is quite clear that you have your eye on the lady next door. Am I right?”
Ximen Qing smiled. “Your intelligence, Stepmother, is worthy of Sui He, and you are even sharper than Lu Jia. I shall not attempt to hoodwink you. I don’t know how it is, but ever since I saw her face under the lattice I seem to have lost both my heart and my head. Day and night I can think of nothing else. When I am at home, I can neither eat nor drink, and work is out of the question. I wonder if you can think of some way to help me.”
“I shall not try to hoodwink you either,” the old woman said. “People imagine that I keep a tea shop here, but to tell you the truth, a ghost playing the night watchman would fill the part as honestly as I do mine. One day, I certainly did sell some tea. It was three years ago, to be precise, when snow fell in the sixth month; but I’ve sold none since. No, sir, I make my living in quite another way.”
“And what may that be?” Ximen asked.
The Golden Lotus, Volume 1 Page 9