Daian opened his eyes wide and fanned himself. “My luck is certainly out today,” he said. “Father told me to bring this bald rascal home with me and we have walked all the way from the temple without stopping. I can hardly breathe. Father said we were to take two donkeys, but the monk would not hear of it. It is all very well for him to walk that long way, but my poor legs have certainly suffered. The soles are torn off my boots and my feet are torn too. What a dirty business!” “What does Father want with him?” Ping’an said.
“Who knows?” Daian said. “Perhaps he hopes to get some medicine out of him.”
As they were talking, they heard the sound of the attendants clearing the way. Ximen Qing arrived. When he found the monk already there, he said: “Master, you are indeed a wonder worker to get here before I did.” He asked the monk to go into the great hall. Ximen Qing gave his clothes to Shutong and changed his hat. He sat down with the monk, and they drank tea. The Indian Monk gazed around the great hall and saw how deep and spacious it was; how large and quiet the courtyard. Over the door hung a bamboo lattice made of shrimps’ feelers with a tortoiseshell design. The floor was covered with rugs, with a pattern of lions rolling balls. In the middle of the hall was a table colored black, with dragonflies on the legs and the praying mantis upon the edges. There was a marble screen upon the table, with a fretted pattern and a base shaped like a mountain. Around it were several large cedar chairs, substantial and heavy, with eels’ heads for decoration. The pictures on the walls were hung on purple rods bound with silk. The ends of the rolls were of cornelian.
When the Indian Monk had looked around him, Ximen Qing said to him: “Master, do you drink wine?”
“I drink wine and eat meat,” the monk said.
Ximen sent a boy to the kitchen to tell them not to prepare vegetarian dishes but to bring wine and food. As it was Li Jiao’er’s birthday, all kinds of food were already prepared. A table was set and the food brought. There were three or four plates of fruits, four smaller and four larger dishes to accompany the wine. There was one dish of fish head, one of preserved duck, one of chicken and one of sea perch. Then four dishes to be eaten with rice, one of little nuts of meat roasted with ram’s-horn onions, one of little pasties of finely minced meat, shaped like a periwinkle, one of plump sausages, and one of bright and slippery eels. Then soup was brought. In the soup were two balls of meat and a garnished sausage between them. This soup was known as “The Dragon playing with two pearls.” Then there was a great dish of stuffed buns with little openings at the top.
Ximen Qing asked the monk to eat, and bade Qintong bring a jar of wine with a round handle, a beak-shaped mouth and a neck like that of a chicken. The boy opened a large jar that had come from Yaozhou. From it he poured a tiny stream of wine as white as snow, extremely fortifying. He poured it into a high-stemmed cup shaped like a lotus upside down. He handed the cup to the Indian Monk, who took it and emptied it at one draft. More dishes were brought, one of sausages about an inch long, one of preserved goose neck. There were fruits for the monk to eat with his wine, grapes mottled as though they had the pox and red plums juicy at the center. Finally a great bowl of noodles and eels with vegetables.
The monk gobbled everything up till his eyes almost stood out of his head. Then he said: “I have had enough.” Ximen Qing told a boy to clear away the table. Then he asked the monk to give him some medicines to enhance his skill in the arts of love.
“I have one medicine made by Laozi, to whom the Queen Mother of the West gave the secret. None are able to secure this medicine but those of whom I think well. You have been kind to me and I will give you a few pills.” He took a gourd from his long bag and emptied about a hundred pills. “Take one on each occasion,” he said, “but no more. Take it with a drop of spirits.” He opened the other gourd and took from it some red powder about two qian ’s weight. “Every time you use it,” said the monk, “take two grains and no more. Should you feel a burning sensation, take your weapon in your hand and stroke your thighs a hundred times or so. Then all will be well. Be judicious in your use of these remedies and give none to anyone else.”
Ximen Qing took the medicines in both hands. “Tell me,” he said, “what is the merit of this medicine?”
Shaped like an egg
Yellow like a duck
In three successive processes Laozi prepared it
At the bidding of the Queen Mother.
To him who glances at it heedlessly
It seems like earth or dung
But, when its merits are known, its worth is more than jewels.
No gold will buy it
And jade is valueless compared with it.
Though you are girt with gold and robed in purple
Though you are dressed in sable
And ride upon the plumpest chargers,
Though you uphold the pillars of the state
Take but a speck of this, set it upon you, then
Rush like a whirlwind to the bridal chamber
There you will find spring always young
All will be bright and gay.
There will be no ruins on the jade mountain
And the moonbeams will shine bright upon your window.
The first engagement will leave you full of vigor
The second, even stronger than before.
Though twelve exquisite beauties, all arrayed in scarlet, wait your onset,
You may enjoy each one, according to your fancy
And, all night through, erect your spear will stand.
Soon, new strength will be given to limbs and belly
It will refresh the testicles, invigorate the penis.
In a hundred days, hair and beard will be black once more
In a thousand days, your body will know its power.
Your teeth will be strong, your eyes more bright,
Your manhood stiffened. Then at the first planting
The seed will germinate.
I fear that this may seem beyond belief.
Pray try the medicine on the cat.
After three days he’ll burn with fire
Four days will see him quite beyond control
And, if a white cat, he will soon be black
Then cease to piss and shit, and so will die.
Though in the summer you may sleep exposed
And in the winter plunge yourself in water
Yet, if you cannot keep your bowels free
Your hair you’ll surely lose.
Each time, take but a grain or so.
Your weapon will be merciless.
Ten women in one night will be as one to you
You’ll feel no slackening of vital power.
The old woman will knit her brows
The young one’s strength will hardly stay the course.
When you are sated, and would give up the fight
Swallow a mouthful of cold water. Then withdraw your weapon
You will not be harmed.
In pleasure and enjoyment you will spend your nights
The joys of spring will fill the orchid chamber.
I make this gift only to those
Who worthily appreciate its qualities.
Take it, I pray, and may your manly vigor flourish evermore.
Ximen Qing listened. When the old monk had done, he asked for the recipe. “When I send for a doctor,” he said, “I insist upon having a good one, and, when I have medicine, I like to know what it’s made of. When I have finished it, and can’t get any more from you, it will be most awkward. I don’t mind how much you ask, you shall have it.” He said to Daian: “Go to the back and bring thirty taels of white gold.” He offered the gold to the monk and again asked for the recipe. The monk laughed.
“I am a poor monk,” he said, “and I roam all over the world. Gold is valueless to me. Keep your money.” He rose and prepared to go away.
Ximen Qing saw that he would not get the recipe from the old man. He said: “If you will not take my gold, let me of
fer you a roll of cloth, fifteen feet long, to make a habit for yourself.” He bade a servant bring a roll and presented it to the Indian Monk with both hands. The monk thanked him and made a reverence. Before he went away, he cautioned Ximen Qing, telling him not to take more than the proper dose. Then he picked up his long bag and his staff, went out of the door, and mysteriously disappeared.
CHAPTER 50
The Indian Monk’s Medicine
Before she drew the perfumed curtains
And settled to the work of love,
Her brows were knit in sadness at the thought
The night would be so short.
She bade her lover hasten to the bed
And warm the silk-embroidered coverlets.
Then was their love as that of butterflies and bees.
They stripped themselves: their passion knew no bounds.
She left the lamp to burn beside the curtains
That he from time to time might gaze
Upon the beauty of her face.
It was the birthday of Li Jiao’er. Nun Wang came from the temple of Guanyin, bringing with her Nun Xue from the Temple of Lotus Blossoms. With them came two young novices, Miaofeng and Miaoqu. Wu Yueniang had been told that Xue was deeply versed in matters of religion and hastened to welcome her. The nun was wearing a religious hat, and a long robe the color of tea leaves. Her hair was tonsured. She was very stout and big. Her mouth was like that of a fish; her cheeks like those of a pig. When she came in, she made reverence to Yueniang and the others; and Yueniang and the others returned her greeting. The nun raised her eyebrows, closed her eyes, put on all sorts of airs, and spoke in an extremely affected voice. The ladies addressed her as “Noble Xue.” She, in return, called Wu Yueniang Buddha of the Household or else My Lady. This made Yueniang think highly of her.
That day Aunt Wu and Aunt Yang had come to call and Yueniang entertained them so well that the tables overflowed. It was far beyond the ordinary range of entertainment.
The two novices, Miaofeng and Miaoqu, were no more than fourteen or fifteen years old, and they were very sedate. They were given something to eat and drink. Then everybody went to the upper room, and the ladies listened to a sermon from the nun.
Yueniang saw Shutong carrying things from the outer court and said to him: “Has that monk who eats meat and drinks wine gone yet?”
“Yes,” Shutong said, “he has just gone. Father saw him to the door.”
Aunt Wu asked: “Where did he meet that monk?”
“My husband went to see Censor Cai on his way,” Yueniang said, “and he brought the monk back with him from the temple. He eats meat and drinks wine. My husband has been asking him for some medicine or other. The monk would take no money, and I have no idea how they got on with their business.”
“The question of taking meat and wine is one of great delicacy,” Nun Xue said. “Nuns generally observe the vow of abstinence, but monks do not seem to trouble much about it. As a matter of fact, the Scriptures say that, if we take but a mouthful of meat, we shall suffer for it in the next life.”
“We eat meat every day,” Aunt Wu said, “so we must be committing a great many sins.”
“Oh, but it is different for you,” the nun said. “You are able to enjoy meat as a reward for virtue in your last life. It is right and proper that you should enjoy both wealth and comfort. If plants are set in the ground in the spring, we may expect a harvest in the autumn.”
Meanwhile, Ximen Qing had parted from the Indian monk and returned to his room. Daian whispered to him: “Aunt Han has sent her brother to ask you to go to her. It is her birthday today and she would very much like to see you.”
Ximen Qing now had the medicine the monk had given him, and he desired nothing better than to try its effects. Wang Liu’er’s invitation came at the right moment. He told Daian to prepare his horse and sent Qintong to the woman’s house with a jar of wine. Then he went to Pan Jinlian’s room for his case of instruments. Wearing plain clothes, with an ordinary hat and eyeshades, he rode to Wang Liu’er’s house. When he got there, he told Qintong to stay and sent Daian back with the horse. “If anyone asks where I am,” he told the boy, “ say that I am going through the accounts at the house in Lion Street.” Daian went back on his master’s horse.
Wang Liu’er came out and kowtowed to Ximen Qing. Then she sat down beside him. “I only asked you to come that you might have some amusement,” she said. “It was good of you to send the wine.”
“I had forgotten that it is your birthday today,” Ximen said. “I have been to say farewell to someone outside the city and have only this moment come back.” He took a present from his sleeve and gave it to her. “I have brought you something,” he said. The woman took the gift and examined it. It was a pair of gold pins with the lucky character shou.
“It is very pretty,” Wang Liu’er said, and made a reverence to thank him. Ximen gave her five qian of silver and asked her to give a boy something and send him for a jar of Southern spirits. Wang Liu’er laughed. “Are you tired of ordinary wine,” she said, “that you need Southern spirits?” But she hastened to give the boy five fen and sent him for the spirits. Then she took Ximen’s cloak and asked him to go to the inner room. She made some excellent tea for him and set out a small table. They played dominoes for a while, then she warmed some wine.
Daian went home. He was very weary after walking so far with the monk. He went to sleep and slept till evening. Then he woke up, rubbed his eyes, and saw that it was late. He went to the inner court to get a lantern and make ready to go for Ximen Qing. But he stood there for a while without doing anything. Yueniang spoke to him. “Your father saw the monk to the door, but, instead of coming to change his clothes, he suddenly went out. Where did he go?”
“Father went to Lion Street to inspect the accounts,” Daian said.
“He can’t be inspecting accounts all day,” said Yueniang.
“No,” Daian said. “When he had finished the books, he had something to drink all by himself.”
“All by himself, indeed!” Yueniang said. “You are lying. A boy came from Han Daoguo after him. What did he want?”
“The boy came to find out when Uncle Han would be here.”
“You young rascal!” Yueniang said. “You are up to some trick or other.”
Daian dared say no more. Yueniang told Xiaoyu to give him a lantern. “Tell your father,” she said, “that the Second Lady is waiting for him to come and celebrate her birthday.”
Daian went to the shop. Shutong and Clerk Fu were sitting behind the counter. On it were a bottle of wine, several dishes, and a plate of tripe. Ping’an came in bringing two jars of fish paste. “Excellent!” said Daian, putting down his lantern, “I have come just in time.” Then he said jokingly to Shutong: “Ah, you naughty little strumpet. I have been looking everywhere for you, and you have been hiding here all this time, drinking.”
“What did you want me for?” Shutong said. “Do you wish me to adopt you as my grandson for a while?”
“Little boy,” Daian said, “would you bandy words with me? I was looking for you because I want to do some business with your behind.” He pushed him onto the couch and kissed him, but the boy freed himself.
“You queer creature,” he said, “I find it hard to scold you as I should like. Now you’ve hurt my mouth and knocked my hat off.”
Clerk Fu saw Shutong’s hat on the ground. “Why, that’s a new hat,” he said, and told Ping’an to pick it up before somebody stepped on it. Shutong picked up the hat and threw it on a couch. His face was very red.
“Well, you strumpet,” Daian said, “I was only playing with you. Why do you get so angry?” He dragged Shutong to the bed and spat in his mouth. They overturned the wine, and it was spilled on the counter. Clerk Fu was afraid it would stain the account books. He hastily found a cloth and dried it up.
“Don’t play the fool any more,” he said, “or you will get angry with one another.”
“I don’t know
where this strumpet can have been brought up,” Daian said, “to make him as stubborn as this.” Shutong’s hair was in disorder.
“A game is a game,” he said, “but this is not a game. You have filled my mouth with your filthy spittle.”
“Ah, you slave,” said Daian, “this is not the first time you have swallowed such a liquid. You are always doing it, and who can tell how often?”
Ping’an heated some wine and gave it to Daian. “Drink this and go for our master. You can settle with him when you come back.”
“Yes,” Daian said, “wait for me. When I come back, I will have a word with you. Unless I make you see spirits and ghosts, you will think I am not to be feared. I shall spit on you again. I am the son of no human parents, so I can do whatever I like.” He drank his wine, summoned two small boys to accompany him with the lantern, and himself rode on horseback. When he came to Wang Liu’er’s house, he knocked at the door and asked Qintong where their master was. “He is asleep,” said Qintong. They shut the gate and went to the kitchen.
There, old woman Feng said to him: “Your Aunt Han waited a long time for you, but you did not come. Here is your supper.” She took from a cupboard a plate of ass’s flesh, a dish of cold roast chicken, two bowls of birthday noodles, and a pot of wine.
Daian drank some wine. Then he said to Qintong: “Come here. I can’t drink all this wine. You must drink some for me.”
“It is yours,” said Qintong. “Drink it yourself.” Daian said he had already had some wine. The two boys finished it off together.
Then Daian said to old woman Feng: “If you will excuse me, there is something I should like to tell you. You are really attached to the household of our Sixth Lady and are supposed to work only for her. But I am always finding you here working for Aunt Han. I am afraid I shall have to tell the Sixth Lady.”
The Golden Lotus, Volume 1 Page 80