The Golden Lotus, Volume 1

by Lanling Xiaoxiaosheng

  While they were drinking, Chen Jingji came in. He made a reverence to Uncle Wu, and said to Ximen Qing: “Xu asks to be allowed a few days in which to make his payment.”

  “Rubbish,” Ximen said, “I need the money now. You will have to speak to him severely.”

  Uncle Wu asked Jingji to sit down and drink with them.

  In the inner court, Aunt Wu and Aunt Yang, Ximen’s ladies, and Guijie were drinking wine together. Miss Yu sang to them the first act in The Western Wing play cycle. When she had finished and laid down her lute, Meng Yulou gave her some wine. “What a terribly long ditty,” she said, “I don’t like you at all.” Pan Jinlian, with a pair of large chopsticks, took a piece of meat and dangled it before Miss Yu’s nose, to tease her.

  “Sister,” Guijie said to Yuxiao, “give me the lute, and I will sing a song for the ladies.”

  “But you are in trouble,” Yueniang said. “You can’t feel like singing.”

  “Now that you and Father have made things all right, I have nothing to worry about,” Guijie said.

  “Guijie,” Yulou said, “I suppose you are able to change the parts you play so quickly because of where you come from. When you first came, your brows were knit and you would not even take a drop of tea. Now you laugh and talk readily enough.”

  Guijie stretched her delicate fingers, plucked the strings and sang to them. While she was singing, Qintong came with the things from the outer court. Yueniang asked if Uncle Wu had gone and was told that he had. “It must be time for my brother-in-law to come here,” Aunt Wu said. “We had better go elsewhere.” Qintong told them that Ximen Qing had gone to the Fifth Lady’s room.

  When she heard this, Jinlian was on tenterhooks. She lifted first one foot and then the other in her anxiety to get away, but she felt that it would not be polite to go. At last Yueniang said to her: “Get off to your room since he is there. Don’t sit there looking like a guest who can get nothing to eat.”

  Jinlian tried to pretend to be in no great haste, but her feet carried her quickly away. When she came to her room, Ximen Qing had already taken some of the Indian Monk’s medicine. Chunmei had taken his clothes and he was sitting on the bed.

  “Ah, my son,” Jinlian said, “you could not wait for your mother to come, but went to bed first. I have been drinking in the inner court. Guijie was singing there, and I have had several large cups of wine. I had to find my way here alone in the dark, one foot in the air and the other on the ground. Really, I don’t know how I got here.” She asked Chunmei for some tea. When the maid brought it, Jinlian drank it and made a sign to her. Chunmei understood and went to heat some water for her. The woman washed herself with sandalwood water and alum and took off her headdress so that her hair was held by a single golden pin. She stood before the mirror, reddened her lips and put some fragrant tea into her mouth. Then she came back and Chunmei brought her sleeping shoes. The maid went away and made fast the door behind her.

  The woman took the lamp and set it beside the bed. Then she pulled down the curtains, took off her scarlet trousers, and stripped her jade body. Ximen Qing was sitting on the bed, the silver clasp in position upon a fierce-looking weapon. Jinlian was startled when she looked at it. It was too great for one hand to grasp, full-blooded and heavy. She stared at Ximen Qing and said: “I know what you’ve been doing. You’ve been taking some of that monk’s medicine to make it like that. Then you think you’ll come here to show what a mighty fellow you are. Fresh wine and fresh meat for others. I have to content myself with the defeated champion. I can serve the meanest of your purposes. Then you pretend to be fair to me. Why, the other day, when I was not in my room, you came and ran off with the instruments to the Sixth Lady’s room and carried on your games there. And she pretends to be one of those pure, pious people. You wretched little creature, you can be twisted around anybody’s finger. When I think about it, I swear I won’t have anything to do with you for a hundred days.”

  Ximen Qing laughed. “Come here, you little strumpet,” he said, “and see if your mouth can make this smaller; if you can, I’ll give you a tael of silver.”

  “I’m ashamed of you, you rascal,” she said. “How can it get smaller when you have drunk that potion?” But she lay on the bed and put his penis between her red lips. “It’s so huge,” she said, “that it hurts my mouth.” Then she sucked and teased the prick’s head with her tongue, licking the outer skin and rubbing it up and down with her lips. But, although she stroked the giant with her cheeks and played a thousand love games with it, it merely became longer and thicker. Ximen looked at her. Her beautiful body gleamed among the silk sheets. She took his hairy monster in her delicate fingers, put it between her lips, and took it all in her mouth; when she released it, it was limp.

  Beside them lay a long-haired white cat. Watching the movement of this hairy thing, the cat crouched ready to spring. Ximen had a gold speckled fan in his hand and with it he teased the cat. Jinlian seized the fan and struck a hard blow at the cat. It ran quickly away. She looked up at Ximen Qing and said: “You terrible fellow. You are amusing yourself with me, and that isn’t enough for you, you must play with the cat. Suppose it claws me. What then? Do you think I shall go on playing this game?”

  “You funny little whore,” Ximen said, “you would talk anybody to death.”

  “Why don’t you ask Li Ping’er to play these games with you?” Jinlian went on. “You ask me every time you come here. What that medicine you have been taking may be I don’t know; I could suck it all day without success.”

  Ximen took from his sleeve a little silver box and from it picked out with a toothpick some of the reddish ointment. He put it upon the horse’s mouth. He lay down and made her ride on top of him. “Let me get into position first,” she said. “If I do, perhaps you’ll be able to penetrate me.” But the head of his penis was so broad that they both struggled hard and long before even a little of it would go in. She rode on top of him, up and down, hither and thither, but could not conceal her pain. “Darling,” she said, “that hurts me so much that I can’t bear it any longer,” and feeling around with her hand she found that less than half the penis was inside her. She collected some of her spittle and moistened the inside of her cunt with it to make the path easier. Then she moved up and down and gradually the penis went the whole way into her vagina.

  “Darling,” the woman said, “the medicine you always used to take gave me a tremendous feeling of burning inside, but this makes me feel a coldness that reaches even to my heart. My whole body seems numb. I shall certainly die at your hands today.”

  Ximen Qing laughed. “I will tell you a story,” he said. “I heard it from Brother Ying. Once upon a time a man died and went down to the infernal regions. The King of Hades put an ass’s skin upon his body and told him that in his next life he must be a donkey. But the record keeper looked in his books and found that the man still had thirty years to live. They sent him back to earth. His wife perceived that, except for his weapon, his body was as it had been before, but he had still the donkey’s weapon. ‘I will go back to Hell and change it,’ he said to his wife. ‘No, my dear,’ said the wife. ‘They might not let you come back again. I will put up with it somehow.’ ”

  Jinlian struck him with the fan. “Beggar Ying’s wife is able to put up with a donkey’s weapon,” she said. “That is obvious. You are a foul-mouthed thing, and I ought to hit you harder.”

  They went on with their work, but Ximen Qing did not give forth. He closed his eyes and made the woman move. She, wriggled and writhed with terrible moans. Then they changed places. He held her legs, and thrust in his penis with all his might. He worked hard in the face-down position, but he felt very little, and she did not become wet. They changed places again; she embraced his neck and hurled herself at him, put the tongue in the mouth, and pressed the whole penis inside herself. Then she whispered gently, “Darling, finish it off or I’ll die.” Soon she drooped; her tongue was as ice, and the juices of love flowed from her. Ximen
felt that her cunt was warm, his passions were aroused, and he felt an enormous orgasm. Both their juices flowed like rivers. She mopped them up with a handkerchief. Then they embraced and kissed each other—but the penis was still erect. They slept for an hour; after that Jinlian, still unsated, climbed on top of him and played with him again. The juices again flowed, but at last began to exhaust themselves. Ximen Qing was undaunted. He could only marvel at the medicine that the Indian Monk had given him. Then they heard the cock crow. It was just before dawn.

  “If it doesn’t go down, come back to me tonight and my lips will make it do so.”

  “You can never do so,” Ximen said, “there is only one thing that will.”

  Jinlian asked what that was, but he said: “This is not a thing to be told to other ears. Wait till tonight and I will tell you then.”

  In the morning he rose and Chunmei helped him to dress. Han Daoguo and Cui Ben were waiting. Ximen went out and gave them two letters, one to introduce them to Wang Boru, who kept the inn at Yangzhou, and the other to Miao Qing to ask if his affair had been settled satisfactorily. He told them that, if they needed more money, he would send it later by Laibao. “You said you were writing to Censor Cai,” Cui Ben said, but Ximen said the letter had not been written and that he would send it by Laibao. Then the two men set out upon their journey.

  Ximen Qing put on his hat and robe of ceremony and went to the office. He thanked Magistrate Xia for his invitation. “It will be a great honor if you visit me today,” Xia said. “There will be no other guests.” They attended to their business, then each went to his own home.

  An official on horseback, carrying a parcel, with sweat rolling down his cheeks, came to the gate and asked Ping’an if Ximen Qing lived there. Ping’an asked his business. The man dismounted, bowed to Ping’an, and said: “I come from An, the Warden of the Royal Forests, with presents for your master. My master and Huang, the Controller of the Brick Fields, are now at Dongpingfu, at Master Hu’s place, drinking wine. My master wishes to visit his Lordship, and I have come to see if he is at home.” Ping’an asked for a card, and the man took one from the wrapper and gave it with the presents to the gatekeeper. The boy took them and showed them to Ximen Qing. On the list of presents he read: “Zhejiang silk, two rolls; four measures of Hu brocade; a scented girdle; and an ancient mirror.” Ximen told him to give the messenger five qian of silver and a card in return, and to say that Ximen would be happy to receive his master. The man went away and Ximen hastily made the necessary preparations.

  The two gentlemen arrived about noon. They came in sedan chairs with a fine array of umbrellas and men to clear the way for them. They sent in visiting cards with their names An Shen and Huang Baoguang. Both were dressed in ceremonial attire, with black hats and black boots. They got down from their sedan chairs and Ximen Qing went to the gate to meet them. They went into the hall and exchanged salutations. Then they sat down, Huang on the left and An on the right.

  “Your fragrant renown has long been known to me,” Huang said. “I am only sorry that my visit has been so long delayed.”

  “The kindness is on your side,” Ximen said, “it was for me to come and see you first. May I ask your illustrious name?”

  An answered for his colleague. “Brother Huang’s name is Taiyu. It is expressive of the principle that earth is made peaceful by the glory that comes from Heaven.”

  “May I ask your name?” Huang said.

  “My unworthy name,” Ximen said, “is Siquan. I was so called because, on my poor estate, there is a well with four openings.”

  “The other day,” An said, “I met Brother Cai. He told me how he and Song had inflicted themselves upon you.”

  “Yes,” Ximen Qing said, “I had orders from my friend Zhai, and besides, his Excellency Song is my superior officer. It was only fitting that I should entertain them. When my servant was at the Capital, I heard of the exalted rank you had attained and I can only apologize for not having come in person to congratulate you. When did you set out?”

  “Last year, after I left you, I went home to marry again. Then, in the first month of the new year I went to the Capital and was appointed to the Board of Works. Now I have been detailed to superintend the transport of the imperial timber from Jingzhou. I had to pass this way, and, of course, felt bound to come and pay my respects to you.”

  “I am grateful for your precious gifts,” Ximen Qing said. He asked them to change their clothes, and summoned the servants to lay a table. But Huang rose, and An said: “Indeed, we have to go to drink wine with the prefect of Dongpingfu. We only called in passing, and we will trouble you some other day.”

  “It is a long way from here to Dongpingfu,” Ximen Qing said, “and if you are not hungry yourselves, there are still your servants to consider. I shall not offer you anything very special, merely common, everyday food, and when your servants have been refreshed by a meal, you will travel more quickly.” A table was set with food of all kinds, delicious dishes, soups, and pastries. Ximen took a small golden cup and offered three cups to each of them. The servants were entertained. Then the two officers stood up and An said:

  “We are giving a little party tomorrow and should be very honored if you would come. The party will be at Chamberlain Liu’s place. He is a friend of my brother Huang. Will you give us the pleasure of your company?”

  “Since you are good enough to invite me,” said Ximen, “I dare not refuse.”

  He escorted them to the gate. Just as they went away in their sedan chairs, a man came from Magistrate Xia to remind Ximen Qing. “I will come at once,” he said. He ordered his horse to be brought, went to the inner court to change his clothes, then came out again and mounted. Qintong and Daian followed him, and soldiers went before him to clear the way. When he reached his colleague’s house, he went to the hall. The two men saluted each other. Ximen said: “Their Lordships An and Huang have just been to see me. They stayed a long time or I should have been here earlier.” Two tables were set in the hall. Ximen Qing sat on the left, and, next to him, the graduate Ni. They talked to one another and Ximen asked Ni his second name. “My name is Ni Peng, and my second name Shiyuan. I am also known as Guiyan. I am on the staff of the college of this prefecture, and at present am coaching his Lordship’s son for his examination. I am ashamed to say I am too ignorant to have many friends.” The two young actors came up and kowtowed.

  When Jinlian had said good-bye to her husband, she went to bed again and did not get up before midday. Even then, she was too languid to dress her hair. She was afraid those in the inner court would remark it, so, when Yueniang sent for her to go to dinner, she would not go but said she was unwell. Not until afternoon did she go to the inner court.

  Yueniang, taking advantage of Ximen Qing’s absence, decided to hear Nun Xue expounding the teachings of Buddha and interpreting the Diamond Sutra. An altar was prepared and incense burned. The two nuns, Wang and Xue, sat down facing each other, and the two novices, Miaoqu and Miaofeng, stood beside them. The service began. All Ximen’s ladies were present, with Aunt Wu and Aunt Yang. They gathered round and listened to Xue recite.

  “It has been said,” Xue began, “that lightning and brightness soon pass away but that stone and fire are everlasting. The withered blossom can never return to the tree on which it grew and flowing water can never go back to the spring from which it came. In painted halls and tapestried chambers, life is but emptiness. The noblest and the greatest die, and all is but a dream. Gold and jade are no more than fountains of trouble. Silken garments are wasted labor. Wives and children can never spend a hundred years together and, in the darkness beyond, a thousandfold sufferings await.

  “When you have lain upon your dying bed and your spirit has gone to the realms below, only in history will your name be recorded. It will avail you nothing, and the yellow earth will cover your corrupting bones. Your fields and gardens, though they cover ten thousand acres, will be divided and cause strife among those who come after you. Your
chests of silks and satins, though they are a thousand, will give you not a moment’s pleasure. Before life is half done, white hairs assail us. When we have received the congratulations of one guest, he will be followed by another who comes to condole with our children. It is bitter, bitter, bitter. Our spirit is transformed into vapor and our body goes beneath the ground. On go the transmigrations, ceaselessly, and so our heads and countenances are ever changed.

  “Hail to the limitless void of the Dharma Realm, to the Three Treasures of the Buddhas of Past and Future, the Dharma, and the Holy Orders.

  “Oh, highest, deepest, most admirable Law! Through a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand ages, it is difficult of attainment. Let us now behold it, hearken to it, receive it, hold fast to it. Let us vow to grasp the Buddha’s great Truth.”

  Then Nun Wang said: “Shakyamuni Buddha was the ancestor of all the Buddhas, the Founder of our religion. Do you know how he left his home? Hear me tell of it.” Then Nun Xue sang:

  The Buddha Shakyamuni was a prince in India.

  He left his kingdom and went forth to the Himalayas

  Where he cut off his flesh to feed the eagles, magpies nested on his head.

  He cultivated his purity until the nine dragons spittle made him a body of gold,

  And became the Perfect One, the Buddha of the Great Vehicle.

  Then Nun Wang said: “Now that you have heard of Shakyamuni, I will tell you how the Bodhisatva Guanyin strove after perfection, attained hundreds of manifestations, and attained the fullest power of the Path. Would you like to hear?”

  Xue was about to sing again when Ping’an came rushing in and said: “His Excellency Song has sent two runners and a servant with a number of presents.”

  Yueniang was flurried. “Your father has gone to Magistrate Xia’s,” she said. “Who is there to accept the presents?”

  Daian came in, put down his wrapper and said: “Don’t worry, lady. I will take the card and go and tell my father. Meanwhile I will ask Master Chen to entertain the servants here.” He took the card, mounted a horse, rode quickly to Xia’s place and told his master. On the card was written: “A freshly slaughtered pig; two jars of Jinhua wine; four quires of writing paper and a miniature book.” It was signed: “With the respects of the junior official Song Qiaonian.” Ximen Qing told the boy to go home and ask Shutong to write a card with his full title, and give the servant three taels of silver and two handkerchiefs, and five qian to each of the runners.