Ximen Qing spent the night in his study. The next day he sent his son-in-law, Chen Jingji, to the garden to superintend the work there and keep the accounts with Ben the Fourth. Laizhao, whose place he took, was given charge of the gate. Ximen’s daughter, Ximen Dajie, took her meals in the inner court with Yueniang and the others, and only went to the front court to sleep. From morning till night Jingji labored in the garden. He never went into the other parts of the house unless he was invited, and, as all his meals were taken to him by the boys, the ladies of Ximen’s household never set eyes on him.
One day, when Ximen Qing was at a farewell party for Captain He, Yueniang remembered that Jingji had to work very hard and that his services were poorly requited.
“If I do anything about it,” she said to Yulou and Li Jiao’er, “his Lordship will say I meddle in things that don’t concern me, but really I can’t allow this sort of thing to go on. The boy is one of ourselves. He rises early and goes to bed late every single day, and all on our account. Nobody lifts a finger to make things more comfortable for him.”
“Lady,” Yulou said, “you are the mistress of the house, and if you do nothing, nobody else can.”
Yueniang told a boy to lay a table for Jingji and ask him to join them. The young man at once handed over his work to Ben the Fourth and hurried to pay his respects to Yueniang. He made reverence to her and sat down. Xiaoyu brought tea and the table with refreshments was carried in.
“You work terribly hard,” Yueniang said. “I should have asked you before to come and spend a few moments’ leisure with us, but there has never been an opportunity. However, your father is away today and I am free. This is a poor sign of our appreciation of all you do for us.”
“Mother,” Jingji said, “you are too good to me. I have done nothing to deserve this.”
They drank together, and Yueniang told a maid to invite his wife to come and join them. The maid told them that she was washing her hands and would be with them in a moment. Then they heard the clatter of dominoes in the next room, and Jingji asked who was playing there.
“It is your wife,” Yueniang said, “playing with Yuxiao.”
“She is most ill-mannered, not to come the moment you invite her.”
Soon, however, she came, sat down, and drank with them. Yueniang asked her whether Jingji knew how to play. “He knows the difference between ‘pleasant scent’ and ‘evil odor,’” Ximen Dajie said.
Yueniang believed that Jingji was all that could be desired as a son-in-law. She did not know that never was a rascal so well versed in poetry, backgammon, songs, and every other form of low amusement. “If you know how to play,” she said, “why should we not go and take a hand?”
“Mother,” Jingji said, “pray go and play with your daughter. It would be presumption on my part.”
“Not at all,” Yueniang said, “you are a close kinsman. Why shouldn’t you join us?”
In the next room Yulou was playing, sitting on the bed on which a crimson coverlet had been laid. She rose when they came in and would have retired. “Our brother is no stranger,” Yueniang said. “You must treat him as one of ourselves. This is the Third Lady,” she said to Jingji.
The young man bowed, and Yulou returned his greeting. Then the three ladies began to play while Jingji stood and looked on. When Ximen Dajie was beaten, her husband took her place.
Jinlian came in. She was wearing a flower in her hair. “I wondered who was here,” she said, laughing. “I see it is Brother Chen.”
Chen Jingji turned quickly. When he saw Jinlian, his breath seemed to stop. It was as though, after five hundred years of separation, he met his loved one again.
“This is the Fifth Lady,” Yueniang said, “you need only exchange simple greetings.”
Chen Jingji rose to his feet and bowed low. Jinlian returned his greeting. Then Yueniang invited her to come and see how an old crow could be beaten by a greenhorn. Jinlian, with one hand resting on the bed and the other fluttering her fan, advised Yueniang how to set out her pieces, and they were all playing with great excitement when Daian came and told them that Ximen Qing had returned. Yueniang told Xiaoyu to take Jingji away by the corner door.
When Ximen had dismounted, he went to the outer court to see how the work in the garden was progressing. Then he went to Jinlian’s room. She welcomed him and took his clothes. “You are back very early today,” she said.
“Yes,” said Ximen, “Captain He has just been promoted, and all the officials went out beyond the city gates to say good-bye to him. I was asked to join them, and I couldn’t very well refuse.”
Jinlian asked if he would like to drink, and told the maid to bring wine. Soon the table was laid. They sat together and enjoyed their food.
“We shall finish the work in the garden tomorrow,” Ximen said; “I suppose some of our friends will be coming with presents and scrolls. We shall have to hire some extra cooks and have a banquet.”
They talked for a while; then it began to grow dark. Chunmei went to her own room, and Ximen Qing and Jinlian went to bed. He had been up early and was very tired. A few cups of wine made him very sleepy. He was soon fast asleep and snoring like thunder.
It was the twentieth day of the seventh month, and the weather was very sultry. Jinlian could not sleep, the noisy buzzing of mosquitoes in the net annoyed her. Without putting on any clothes, she got up and with a candle in her hand searched all around the bed curtains for mosquitoes, burning each one in the flame as she caught them. Then she looked around. Ximen Qing was fast asleep. She shook him, but he would not wake. His weapon, with the clasp still upon it, seemed limp and heavy. The sight of it set her naughty mind in a whirl. She put down the candlestick and fondled it with her exquisite hands. After doing this for a short time, she bent her head and kissed it. Ximen woke and stormed at her. “You funny little strumpet. Your darling is sleepy, and you are a terrible nuisance.” But he got up. Sitting on the bed, he told her to go on with what she was doing. He watched her, and found the sight particularly attractive. Here is a poem about the mosquito:
I love that dainty body, its wondrous lightness,
The beauty and softness of that tender waist.
Music and song go where it goes.
When evening comes, before the crimson doors are shut
It steals within and seeks the silken net,
Settles so lovingly on the fragrant flesh
And lightly falls upon the jade-like form.
Where those lips touch, there stays a rosy flush.
It sings a hundred songs in people’s ears
Allowing none to sleep though it be midnight.
Jinlian continued for a long time, then Ximen Qing thought of a new plan. He called Chunmei to heat some wine and come and stand beside the bed to hold the wine jar. He set the candlestick beside the bed and told Jinlian to go down on all fours before him. When he saw her like this, he was quickly excited again, and gave himself once more to the delights of love, drinking wine as he did so.
“What a naughty fellow you are,” Jinlian cried. “Where did you learn to carry on like this? A fine thing, to let the maid stand by and watch us in such unseemly circumstances.”
“Li Ping’er and I used to do it,” Ximen said. “She always told Yingchun to stand beside us and hold the wine jar. I think it is most amusing.”
“I can’t tell you what I think of you,” Jinlian said. “And what do I care for that woman? Why do you bring her into it? I had to wait for what I wanted, but she couldn’t wait; she had to go and find another man. I haven’t forgotten how, when the three of us were skipping in the courtyard, you came home drunk. You vented your spite on me, kicked me, and got me into trouble with the others. I must be one of those who are fated to be ill-used.”
“With whom did you have trouble?” Ximen asked.
“When you had gone into the house, she who lives in the upper room made a fine to-do. She accused me of deliberately raising my voice against hers and swore I did not know my
place. She doesn’t want anyone to like me.”
“That day,” Ximen said, “Brother Ying dragged me to the Wu Yin’er’s house to drink. On the way back I met old woman Feng, and she told me what had happened. It was that which made me so furious. If she had married anybody else, I should not have cared, but Doctor Jiang, the wretched little turtle! What could she be thinking about to marry a man like that, take him to live with her, and give him the money to open a medicine shop right in front of me? And the business seems to be doing well!”
“It’s all very well talking like that now,” Jinlian said, “but what did I tell you? The one who is the first to cook the rice is always the first to eat it. You wouldn’t listen to me; you went and asked what the Great Lady thought about it. I tell you: those who must always take the opinion of somebody else will never get what they want. You went the wrong way about things, and nobody is to blame but yourself.”
Ximen Qing flew into a temper. “Let her say what she likes, the strumpet! I will never speak to her again.”
Thenceforth Yueniang and Ximen Qing would have no dealings with each other. When they met, they would not speak. Yueniang paid no heed to Ximen’s goings and comings, and never asked any questions. If he went to her rooms for anything, she told her maid to attend to him, but would do nothing for him herself. Their hearts were cold to one another.
After this quarrel Jinlian knew that she could do what she liked with her husband and she became more arrogant than ever. She flaunted herself about and made herself as pretty as she could, all to secure Ximen’s favor and attentions for herself. When she met Chen Jingji, she was so impressed by that young man’s smartness and liveliness that the idea of seducing him came into her head, but she was too afraid of Ximen Qing to attempt it. But when Ximen was out, she sent a maid to invite the young man to take tea in her room and they played chess together.
At last the work in the garden was completed, and relatives and friends came to present red scrolls of congratulation, some bringing boxes of fruits also. Ximen gave all the workmen food and money, and received his guests in the hall, where the celebrations were kept up until noon, when the party broke up. Ximen had been up so early that he decided to go to the inner court for a rest, and Jingji went to see Jinlian and ask her for a cup of tea. He found her sitting on her bed, playing the lute.
“In the outer court,” she said, “they have been house warming and drinking wine. How is it that you have had nothing, but must come to me for tea?”
“To tell you the simple truth,” Jingji said, “I was up before dawn and have been busy ever since. I never had a moment for food.”
“Where is your father?” Jinlian said. Jingji told her that Ximen was resting in the inner court. “Well,” she said, “since I see you have had nothing to eat, Chunmei must pick out some of my own pastries for you.”
The young man sat on her bed, and a small table with four plates of light refreshments was brought in for him. As he began to eat them, he saw that Jinlian had been playing the lute, and asked her whether she would not sing for him. She laughed. “My dear good Brother,” she said, “I don’t belong to you. Why should I sing for you? When Father gets up, I shall tell him what you have asked.”
Jingji smiled. He knelt before her and said, “Please, Mother, forgive your son. I will never offend again.” Jinlian laughed at him.
Ever afterwards they were on terms of intimacy, taking tea and meals together almost every day. Jingji used to go to her room to joke with her, and they sat close together without the slightest scruple. All this time Yueniang treated the young man as though he had been her own son, never dreaming how utterly faithless he was.
CHAPTER 19
Ximen Qing’s Vengeance
After many months of labor the work in Ximen Qing’s garden was completed. The place seemed quite new. So many people came to offer congratulations that the feasting lasted for several days. One day, about the beginning of the eighth month, Xia, the magistrate of the military court, celebrated his birthday in his new house. He engaged four singing girls, a band of musicians, and a troop of actors. Ximen Qing was invited, and set off early in the morning. At home Wu Yueniang prepared a feast for the ladies of the household, and they all went to the garden to admire its arrangement. There were flowers and trees, and buildings specially placed so that they afforded a beautiful view, and everything was delightful.
There was a gatehouse, fifteen feet high and broad around, with a belvedere in each of the four directions. There was an artificial mound and a lake beside it. Bamboos, with their light green foliage, stood out against the darker green of the pines. Summerhouses, high and flat-roofed, contrasted with buildings that, though imposing, were not so high. There was provision for each of the seasons. In the spring could be seen the swallows flitting through the halls, and peach blossoms striving to outdo the apricots in beauty. In summer, from the arbors, you could look down upon the running rivulets, and delight in the gay colors of the artemisia. In autumn, from the Hall of the Humming Bird, one might gaze upon masses of golden chrysanthemums. In winter there was the Tower of Hidden Spring, where the white plum blossom held out its dainty petals.
The narrow paths were carpeted with lovely flowers, and sweet-smelling trees drooped their branches over the carven doors. There were willow trees sporting in the wind, touching, as it were, their eyebrows; and cherries, like raindrops, peeping shyly out.
Before the hall, where the swallows played, the lantern flowers were breaking into blossom; behind the Tower of Hidden Spring white apricots were just coming out. The marigold was opening beside the mound, and the bamboo shoots were springing up beside the balustrade.
The purple swallows flew daintily between the hangings; the twittering orioles flashed amid the green shadows.
There were windows shaped like the moon, and caverns of snow; halls of the wind, and halls of the waters. There were arbors of white roses and ramblers intertwined, and the thousand-leaved peach stood face to face with the willow of the Three Springs. The pine trees formed a wall, and the bamboos a passage. There were winding streams and square ponds. Palms stood gloriously upon the steps, with sunflowers making the round after the sun. Fishes swimming among the reeds suddenly jumped, and the powdered butterflies danced in couples among the flowers.
The white peony blossomed like the face of Buddha, and lichee covered the branches like the head of the King of the Demons.
Yueniang led the others into the garden. They held each other’s hands, walked on the beautiful paths, and sat on the soft fragrant moss. One leaned against an arbor and admired the view, then tossed a red cherry at the gold-fish. Another rested on the balustrade and laughingly frightened the butterflies with her silken kerchief. Yueniang herself went to the highest point, called the Hall above the Clouds, and there played chess with Li Jiao’er and Meng Yulou. The others stood at the flower summerhouse and looked down upon the white roses, the peonies, the ramblers, and the other flowers. They looked at the bamboos that bore the cold like supermen, and the proud pine trees boldly contemptuous of the snow. Throughout the four seasons the flowers never faded, and at the eight festivals it always seemed like spring. There was too much to appreciate in a single visit: it needed to be enjoyed slowly.
Wine was brought. Yueniang took the place of honor, Li Jiao’er sat opposite and the other ladies on either side. “I forgot to invite our brother,” Yueniang said, and sent Xiaoyu to the outer court to invite Chen Jingji to join them. He came, dressed in a light blue hat, a long purple gown, and black boots with white soles. When he had greeted them, he sat beside his wife. After the wine had been passed around, Yueniang again played chess with her stepdaughter and Li Jiao’er. Sun Xue’e and Meng Yulou went up to admire the view, and Pan Jinlian, alone with her white silk fan, played with the butterflies near the lake by the mound. Jingji crept up behind her quietly.
“Fifth Mother,” he said suddenly, “you don’t know how to catch butterflies. Let me catch one for you. They go up and do
wn. They are not quite sure what they want, and wander this way and that.”
Jinlian turned and looked at him. “You must wish to die before your time, you rogue,” she said. “It is clear your life means nothing to you.” Jingji laughed, went closer to her, then took her in his arms and kissed her. She pushed him away and the young man stumbled. At that moment, Yueniang saw them from the steps. “Fifth Sister,” she called, “I have something to tell you. Come here!” Jinlian left Jingji and went up the steps.
When Jinlian had left him, Jingji went sadly to his own room, and wrote a poem to express his melancholy.
I saw her with a flower in her hair
With lips uncarmined though they seemed so red.
Once before, I met her, then today again
And thought she loved me, though I could not see the love.
She may give herself to me, but it is not likely
She may reject me, but I do not think she will.
When can we meet? When is the time for meeting?
I think of her although I cannot see her
And when I’ve seen her, think of her again.
Ximen Qing, after Magistrate Xia’s party, passed through South Lane. He went so often about the streets and lanes, that he knew all the ne’er-do-wells who haunted them. To two of them he often gave money—Lu Hua, otherwise known as Viper in the Grass, and Zhang Sheng, who was nicknamed Rat Scurry down the Street. They were both scoundrels who spent all their time in chicken stealing and mean thieveries of every kind. Today, they were gambling as Ximen Qing passed. Reining in his horse, he called to them. They ran to him at once, made a reverence, and asked where he had been.
“It is Magistrate Xia’s birthday,” Ximen said, “and he invited me to take wine with him. There is a little matter I should like you to attend to for me. Do you mind?”
The Golden Lotus, Volume 1 Page 32