Ximen Qing took up the clothes and examined them. “Indeed,” he said, “the lady sews so exquisitely that only an angel could rival her.”
Jinlian shyly looked at the ground, but she smiled. “Do not make fun of my poor efforts,” she said.
“Stepmother,’ Ximen Qing said, “I hardly dare to ask you, but who is this lady?”
“Guess,” said the old woman.
“How can I guess?”
“Sit down then, and I will tell you. Do you remember passing by one day and getting a knock on the head?”
“Yes,” Ximen said, “I know it is she who struck me that day, but I still don’t know who she is.”
Jinlian bowed her head more deeply and said with a smile, “It was very careless of your slave to strike you. Please don’t be angry with me, my lord.”
“How could I possibly be?” Ximen said hastily.
“This lady is the wife of my neighbor, Wu Da,” the old woman said.
“Is that so?” Ximen said. “I am afraid I was forgetful of my good manners.”
The old woman turned to Jinlian and asked if she knew the gentleman.
“I do not,” the woman replied.
“He is one of the wealthiest men in our district and a very good friend of the magistrate. It is Master Ximen. He has thousands and thousands of strings of cash, and keeps a medicine shop near the Town Hall. The money in his house is piled so high that it touches the North Star and even his spoiled rice is enough to fill many barns. His gold is yellow and his silver white. His pearls are round and his precious stones brilliant. He has rhinoceros horns and elephants’ tusks. It was I who arranged his first marriage. His wife is the daughter of Captain Wu, a very intelligent woman indeed.” Then she turned to Ximen. “Why have you not been to have tea with me lately?”
“I have been very busy attending to my daughter’s betrothal,” Ximen said, “and that has left me very little leisure.”
“Whom is your daughter going to marry?” the old woman said, “and why didn’t you get me to arrange the marriage?”
“She is going to marry Chen Jingji, the son of that Chen who is related to General Yang, who commands the Imperial Guard. The young man is seventeen years old and still at his studies. I should have asked you to arrange this marriage, but a woman named Wen came from his family to ask for the betrothal papers, and Xue, the flower seller, acted for us. They arranged everything between them. But, Stepmother, we shall be giving a party very soon, and, if you care to come, I shall be delighted to have you join us.”
“I was only joking,” the old woman said. “The go-betweens in this city are all bitches. When they arranged the marriage, I had no finger in the pie, and, now that the dinner is cooked, they certainly won’t wish me to have a bite. There is an old saying that there is never any love lost between those who follow the same profession. No, I will wait until the wedding is over and then I will come with a few humble presents, and I may pick up some of the leavings. That will be the best thing I can do. I can’t allow myself to be left completely out of it.” They chattered away in this strain, the old woman flattering him, and he muttering any nonsense in return. Meanwhile, Jinlian kept her head modestly bowed and went on with her needlework.
Ximen Qing glanced at her from time to time, and could see the passion within her growing stronger. This delighted him beyond measure, and he was more eager than ever to bring the matter to its consummation. The old woman made two cups of tea. She gave one to Ximen Qing and the other to Jinlian, and said: “Lady, won’t you take a cup of tea with this gentleman?” She looked at Ximen, and stroked her cheek gently; it was a sign that five of their ten points were already gained. The power of tea to exhilarate, and the power of wine to bring people together, have always been acknowledged as the go-betweens of love.
“If you had not come here,” old woman Wang said, “I should never have had the courage to go to your house and invite you. Good fortune brought you here, and good fortune, again, decided the moment of your coming. But there is an old saying: ‘One guest never troubles two hosts.’ You have given me money, and this kind lady has been good enough to work for me, and I don’t know how I can express my gratitude to either of you. If the fates had not been kind, I should have found it hard to bring you two together. I suggest, Sir, that you take my place as host, and give me something to buy a little wine for the lady.”
“I don’t know whether I have any money with me,” Ximen Qing said, feeling in his sleeve. He brought out a tael of silver, gave it to the old woman, and asked her to buy something with it.
“Not for me, please,” Jinlian said, but she made no attempt to move. The old woman took the silver and, as she prepared to go out, said, “Lady, I wonder if you will be good enough to keep the gentleman company till I come back. I shall only be a few minutes.”
“Stepmother, please don’t trouble,” Jinlian said, but still she remained in her place. The old woman went out, and left Ximen Qing and Pan Jinlian alone together.
Ximen’s eyes seemed to devour the woman. She looked up at him coyly, then bowed her head again and went on with her sewing. Before long, the old woman was back again with cooked goose and roasted duck, meats of various kinds, and some luscious-looking fruits. She put them on dishes and set them on the table. Then she said to Jinlian: “Won’t you put the clothes aside for a while, and take a cup of wine?”
“You drink with his Lordship,” the woman said. “It is not for me to take such a liberty.”
“You mustn’t say that,” the old woman cried, “it has all been arranged in your honor.” She placed the dishes before them and, when they had taken their places, poured the wine.
“Stepmother,” Ximen Qing said, “will you ask the lady to take wine with me?”
Jinlian thanked him. She dared not drink, she said, because a very little wine went to her head.
“Oh, you can hold a good deal,” the old woman said, “I know that. Don’t make a fuss about a cup or two.” Jinlian took the wine and raised her glass to the others. Ximen Qing took up his chopsticks. “Stepmother,” he said, “ask the lady to take something to eat.” The old lady picked out some tidbits and passed them to the woman. The wine went around three times, and old woman Wang went out to warm some more.
“May I ask your age?” Ximen said.
“I am twenty-five,” Jinlian said, bowing her head again.
“Then you and my wife are the same age. Her animal is the Dragon, and she was born on the fifteenth day of the eighth month.”
“You are putting Earth and Heaven on the same plane,” Jinlian said. “You pay me too great a compliment.”
“This lady,” old woman Wang said, “is as clever as can be, besides being such a good needlewoman. She knows all the philosophies of all the philosophers, not to speak of backgammon and chess. She can write very nicely too.”
“Ah,” Ximen said, with a sigh, “but where shall we find another like her?”
“I wouldn’t say anything impertinent for the world,” old woman Wang said, “but though you have many ladies in your house, I doubt whether there is one among them equal to this lady.”
“That is true, I fear,” Ximen said. “It is a long story. The fates have been unkind to me and I must own that none of them is really any use.”
“Your first wife was good enough,” the old woman said.
“Don’t talk about her,” Ximen cried. “If she had lived, things would have been very different, but now there is no real mistress in the house and the whole place is going to rack and ruin. There are three, five, nay seven people—all ready enough to eat my food, but not so ready to attend to their household duties.”
“How long is it since your first wife died? I have forgotten.”
“I hate to talk about it,” Ximen said. “My first wife Chen came from a very poor family, but she was a clever woman and did all I needed. Unhappily, she died more than three years ago. I have married again, but my present wife is always ailing and the business of the househ
old is too much for her. My domestic affairs are in complete disarray. Perhaps that is why I spend so much of my time away from home. If I didn’t there would be trouble.”
“You must excuse me, Sir,” said the old woman, “but your late wife and your present wife together were not so skilled in needlework as this lady, or so attractive in appearance.”
“My other wives also,” said Ximen, “cannot compare with her.”
“But what about the establishment in East Street?” the old woman said, laughing. “Why do you never ask me to tea there?”
“You are thinking of Zhang Xichun, the singing girl?” Ximen said. “I found she was a flighty creature and I have given her up.”
“That may be,” the old woman continued, “but what about Li Jiao’er, who used to be in the bawdy house? You have been on very good terms with her for a long time.”
“Oh, I took her into my household some time ago and, if she proves satisfactory, I shall marry her.”
“Then there was Miss Zhuo,” the old woman suggested.
“Do not mention her name,” Ximen said. “I made her my third wife, but a short time ago she fell ill and died.”
“Dear me! Dear me!” cried the old woman. “Suppose I found a lady like this, one whom you really liked, and came to your house to talk over the matter? Don’t you think it would cause a disturbance?”
“My parents are both dead, and I am my own master. Who would dare say a word to me?”
“However, I may try. Where can I find a lady so much to your liking as this one?”
“Oh, there may be one for all we know,” Ximen said. “But I loathe the Fates who control my matrimonial affairs. If they had been more indulgent, I might have found such a woman.”
They chatted in this way for some time. At last old woman Wang said, “Just when we are ready for a little more wine, it all seems to have gone. I am sorry to trouble you, Sir, but may I buy another jar?” Ximen Qing put his hand in his sleeve. There were still three or four taels there. He gave them all to the old lady, “Here you are,” he said. “Any time we are short of wine, you need only go and get it.”
The old woman thanked him, and got up. She glanced at Jinlian, who, after drinking three cups of wine, was already consumed with passion. The words that passed between them seemed only to add fuel to the fires that burned within. She bowed her head, but still she did not move.
CHAPTER 4
Ximen Qing Attains His End
The sun streams through the painted doorway into the bedchamber.
There stands a maiden whom no gold can buy.
She leans against the door
Her lovely eyes, like beams of sunshine, seek to pursue her lover
But he has gone so far, her tender feet may never hope to follow.
Old woman Wang took the money and started for the door. Smiling, she said to Jinlian, “I must go to the street to buy a jar of wine; you will keep his Lordship company, won’t you? If there is a drop left in the jar, warm two cups and drink them with him. The best wine is to be had in East Street. I shall have to go there for it, so I may be away some little time.”
“Really I can’t drink any more,” Pan Jinlian cried. “Please don’t go on my account.”
“You and his Lordship are no longer strangers,” said the old woman, “and you have nothing else to do. Drink a cup of wine with him. Why should you be afraid?”
With her lips Jinlian said she did not wish to drink, but her body told another story. The old woman shut the door and fastened it on the outside with a chain, imprisoning the two young people in her room. Then outside in the roadway, she sat down and began to roll some thread. Jinlian saw the old woman go, and pulled her chair to one side. As she settled down again, she glanced swiftly at Ximen Qing. He was sitting on the other side of the table, his eyes wide open, staring at her. At last he managed to speak.
“I forgot to ask your honorable name.”
The woman bowed, and answered, smiling, “My unworthy name is Wu.”
Ximen Qing pretended that he had not heard properly. “Did you say Du?” he said. Jinlian looked up, and said in a very soft voice, “I did not think you were deaf, Sir.”
“I am sorry,” Ximen said, “it was my mistake. You said ‘Wu.’ There are not many people called Wu in Qinghe. There is indeed one fellow who sells cakes outside the Town Hall, but he is no bigger than my thumb. His name is Wu, Master Wu Da. Is he a relative of yours by any chance?”
Jinlian flushed. “He is my husband,” she said, hanging her head.
Ximen Qing was silent for a long time, and seemed to be thinking very seriously. “How sad! How wrong!” he murmured at last. Jinlian smiled, and glanced at him.
“You have no reason to complain. Why should you say, ‘How sad!’?”
“I was thinking how sad it must be for you,” he said. He muttered many things, almost unintelligibly. Jinlian still looked down. She played with her skirt, nibbled at her sleeves, and bit her lips, sometimes talking, sometimes glancing slyly at him. Ximen pretended to find the heat trying, and took off his green silk coat.
“Would you mind putting my coat on the old lady’s bed?” he said. Jinlian did not offer to take the coat. Keeping her head still turned away, she played with her sleeves and smiled. “Is there anything wrong with your own hands?” she said. “Why do you ask me to do things for you?” Ximen Qing laughed.
“So you won’t do a little thing like that for me? Well, I suppose I must do it myself.” He leaned over the table and put his coat on the bed. As he did so, he brushed the table with his sleeve and knocked down a chopstick. Luck favored him; the chopstick came to rest beneath the woman’s skirt. Ximen, who had already drunk more wine than was good for him, invited her to join him. Then he wanted his chopsticks to help her to some of the dishes. He looked about. One of them was missing. Jinlian looked down, pushed the chopstick with her toe, and said, laughing, “Isn’t this it?” Ximen Qing went to her, and bent down. “Ah, here it is!” he cried, but instead of picking up the chopstick, he took hold of her embroidered shoe.
Jinlian laughed. “I shall shout, if you are so naughty.”
“Be kind to me, Lady,” Ximen said, going down on his knees. As he spoke, he gently stroked her silken garments.
“It is horrid of you to pester me so,” Jinlian cried. “I shall box your ears.”
“Lady,” he said, “if your blows should cause my death, it would be a happy end.”
Without giving her time to object, he carried her to old woman Wang’s bed, took off his clothes and, after unloosing her girdle, lay down with her. Their happiness reached its culmination.
In the days when Jinlian had performed the act of darkness with Zhang, that miserable old man had never been able to offer any substantial contribution to the proceedings, and not once had she been satisfied. Then she married Wu Da. You may imagine the prowess that might be expected from Master Tom Thumb. It could hardly be described as heroic. Now she met Ximen Qing, whose capacity in such matters was unlimited and whose skill was exceptionally refined and cunning.
The mandarin ducks, with necks entwined, sport upon the water.
The phoenix and his mate, their heads close pressed together, fly among the blossoms.
Joyful and tireless, the tree puts forth twin branches
The girdle, tied in a lovers’ knot, is full of sweetness.
He, the red-lipped one, thirsts for a close embrace
She, of the powdered cheeks, awaits it eagerly.
The silken hose are raised on high
And two new moons appear above his shoulders.
The golden hairpins fall
And on the pillow rests a bank of lowering clouds.
They swear eternal oaths by ocean and by mountain
Seeking a thousand new delights.
The clouds are bashful and the rain is shy
They play ten thousand naughty tricks.
“Qia Qia,” the oriole cries.
Each sucks the nectar from
the other’s lips.
The cherry lips breathe lightly, lightly.
In those willowy hips the passion beats
The mocking eyes are bright like stars
Tiny drops of sweat are like a hundred fragrant pearls
The sweet full breasts tremble
The dew, like a gentle stream, reaches the heart of the peony
They taste the joys of love in perfect harmony
For stolen joys, in truth, are ever the most sweet.
Just when they had done and were putting on their clothes again, old woman Wang pushed open the door and came in, clapping her hands as though she had never been more surprised in her life.
“A fine state of affairs,” she said. Ximen Qing and Jinlian were extremely embarrassed.
“Oh, splendid, splendid!” the old woman said to Jinlian. “I asked you to come here to make clothes, not to make love with someone else’s husband. If your Wu Da found this out, he would blame me. I shall have to go and explain the matter to him at once.” She turned, and started out. Jinlian caught her quickly by the skirt. She hid her blushing face and could only get out a single sentence: “Spare me, Stepmother.”
“You must make me a promise, then,” the old woman said. “From this day forward, you must deceive Wu Da and give his Lordship here whatever he desires. If I call you early, you must come early. If I call you late, you must come late. Then I will say no more about it. But, if there should be a day when you do not come, I shall tell Wu Da.”
Jinlian was so abashed that she could find nothing to say. “Well,” said the old woman, “what are you going to do about it? I must have an answer now.” “I will come,” the woman whispered. Old woman Wang turned to Ximen Qing. “I need say no more to you, Sir. This is a fine piece of work, and you owe it all to me. You must not forget your promise. You must keep your word. If you try to wriggle out of it, I shall be compelled to speak to Wu Da.”
“Don’t worry, Stepmother,” Ximen said, “I shall not go back on my word.”
The Golden Lotus, Volume 1 Page 11