The Big Red Book of Modern Chinese Literature

by Yunte Huang

  Next, the local press carried an order by the city’s garrison commander forbidding soldiers to strike students. It was said that two soldiers who confessed to having taken part in the theater brawl were severely punished. Juexin saw the proclamation posted on the streets, and he told Juehui about it.

  With the news improving from day to day, Juehui, a prisoner in his own home, grew increasingly restless. He paced alone in his room, too fretful at times even to read. Or he lay flat on his bed, staring up at the canopy above.

  “ ‘Home. Home, sweet home!’ ” he would fume.

  Hearing him, Juemin would smile and say nothing.

  “What’s so funny!” Juehui raged, on one of these occasions. “You go out every day, free as a bird! But just watch out. Some fine day you’re going to end up like me yourself!”

  “My smiling has nothing to do with you. Can’t I even smile?” retorted Juemin with a grin.

  “No, you can’t. I won’t let you smile! I won’t let anyone smile!”

  Juemin closed the book he had been reading and quietly left the room. He didn’t want to argue.

  “Home, a fine home! A narrow cage, that’s what it is!” Juehui shouted, pacing the floor. “I’m going out. I must go out. Let’s see what they’re going to do about it!” And he rushed from the room.

  Going down the steps into the courtyard, he spied Mistress Chen and Aunt Shen (the wife of his uncle Keding) sitting on the veranda outside his grandfather’s room. Juehui hesitated, then made a detour around his brother Juexin’s quarters and entered the large garden.

  Passing through a moon-gate, he came to a man-made hill. The paved path he was following here forked into two branches. He chose the one to the left, which went up the slope. Narrow and twisting, it led through a tunnel. When Juehui emerged again on the other side, the path started downward. A delicate fragrance assailed his nostrils, and he struck off in the direction from which it seemed to be coming. Moving down slowly through the bushes, he discovered another small path to the left. Just as he was turning to it, the view before him suddenly opened up, and he saw a great sea of pink blossoms. Below was a plum tree grove with branches in full flower. Entering the grove, he strolled along the petal-strewn ground, pushing aside the low-hanging branches.

  In the distance, he caught a glimpse of something blue shimmering through the haze of plum blossoms. As he drew nearer, he saw it was a person dressed in blue coming in his direction over the zigzag stone bridge. A girl, wearing a long braid down her back. Juehui recognized the bondmaid Mingfeng.

  Before he could call to her, she entered the pavilion on the isle in the middle of the lake. He waited for her to emerge on the near side. But after several minutes there was still no sign of her. Juehui was puzzled. Finally, she appeared, but she was not alone. With her was another girl, wearing a short purple jacket. The tall girl’s back was toward him as she chatted with Mingfeng, and he could only see her long plait, not her face. But as they came closer over the zigzag bridge leading from the near side of the isle, he got a look at her. It was Qianer, a bondmaid in the household of his uncle Ke’an.

  As the girls neared the shore, he hid among the plum trees.

  “You go back first. Don’t wait for me. I still have to gather some blossoms for Madam Zhou,” said Mingfeng’s crisp voice.

  “All right. That Madam Wang of mine is a great talker. If I’m out too long she’ll grumble at me for hours.” Going through the grove of plums, Qianer departed along the path by which Juehui had just come.

  As soon as Qianer disappeared around a bend, Juehui stepped out and walked toward Mingfeng. She was breaking off a low-hanging branch.

  “What are you doing, Mingfeng?” he called with a smile.

  Concentrating on her task, Mingfeng hadn’t seen him approach. She turned around, startled, on hearing his voice. She gave a relieved laugh when she recognized him. “I couldn’t imagine who it was! So it’s you, Third Young Master!” She went on breaking the branch.

  “Who told you to gather blossoms at this hour of the day? Don’t you know that early morning is the best time?”

  “Madam Zhou said Mrs. Zhang wants some. Second Young Master is going to take them over.” Mingfeng stretched for a branch that was heavily laden with blossoms, but she couldn’t reach it, even standing on tiptoe.

  “I’ll get it for you. You’re still too short. In another year or so you might make it,” said Juehui, grinning.

  “All right, you get it for me, please. But don’t let Madam know.” Mingfeng stepped aside to make room for Juehui.

  “Why are you so afraid of Madam Zhou? She’s not so bad. Has she scolded you again lately?” Juehui reached up and twisted the branch back and forth, twice. It snapped off. He handed it to Mingfeng.

  “No, she doesn’t scold me very often. But I’m always scared I’ll do something wrong,” she replied in a low voice, accepting the branch.

  “That’s called—Once a slave, always a slave! . . .” Juehui laughed, but he wasn’t intending to deride Mingfeng.

  The girl buried her face in the blossoms she was holding.

  “Look, there’s a good one,” Juehui said cheerfully.

  She raised her head and smiled. “Where?”

  “Don’t you see it? Over there.” He pointed at a branch of a nearby tree, and her gaze followed his finger.

  “Ah, yes. It has lovely blossoms. But it’s too high.”

  “High? I can take care of that.” Juehui measured the tree with his eye. “I’ll climb up and break the branch off.” He began unfastening his padded robe.

  “No, don’t,” said Mingfeng. “If you fall you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “It’s all right.” Juehui hung his robe over a branch of another tree. Underneath, he was wearing a close-fitting green padded jacket. As he started up the tree, he said to Mingfeng, “You stand here and hold the tree firm.”

  Setting his feet on two sturdy branches, he stretched his hand toward the blossom-laden branch he was after. It was out of reach, and his ­exertions shook the whole tree, bringing down a shower of petals.

  “Be careful, Third Young Master, be careful!” cried Mingfeng.

  “Don’t worry,” he responded. Cautiously maneuvering himself into another position, he was able to grasp the elusive branch. With a few twists, he snapped it off. Looking down, he saw the girl’s upturned face.

  “Here, Mingfeng, catch!” He tossed her the branch. When it was safely in Mingfeng’s hand, he slowly climbed down the tree. “Enough,” she said happily. “I’ve got three now; that’s plenty.”

  “Right. Any more and Second Young Master won’t be able to carry them all,” laughed Juehui, taking up his robe. “Have you seen him around?”

  “He’s reciting by the fish pond. I heard his voice,” Mingfeng replied, arranging the flowers in her hand. Observing that Juehui had only draped his robe over his shoulders, she urged, “Put it on. You’ll catch cold that way.”

  As Juehui was putting his arms through the sleeves, the girl began walking off along the path. He called after her:

  “Mingfeng!”

  Stopping, she turned around and asked with a smile, “What is it?” But when he didn’t answer, and only stood smiling at her, she again turned and walked away.

  Juehui hastily followed, calling her name. Again she halted and turned. “Yes?”

  “Come over here,” he pleaded.

  She walked up to him.

  “You seem to be afraid of me lately. You don’t even like to talk to me. What’s wrong?” he asked, half in jest, toying with an overhanging branch.

  “Who’s afraid of you?” Mingfeng replied with a gurgle of laughter. “I’m busy from morning till night. I just haven’t the time for talk.” She turned to go.

  Juehui held out a restraining hand. “It’s true. You are afraid of me. If you’re so busy, how do you have time to play with Qianer? I saw you two just now in the isle pavilion.”

  “What right have I to chat with you? You’re a Young M
aster; I’m only a bondmaid,” Mingfeug retorted distantly.

  “But before we used to play together all the time. Why should it be any different now?” was Juehui’s warm rejoinder.

  The girl’s brilliant eyes swept his face. Then she dropped her head and replied in a low voice, “It’s not the same now. We’re both grown up.”

  “What difference does that make? Our hearts haven’t become bad!”

  “People will talk if we’re always together. There are plenty of gossipers around. It doesn’t matter about me, but you should be careful. You have to uphold your dignity as one of the masters. It doesn’t matter about me. I was fated to be just a cheap little bondmaid!” Mingfeng still spoke quietly, but there was a touch of bitterness in her voice.

  “Don’t leave. We’ll find a place to sit down and have a long talk. I’ll take the blossoms.” Without waiting for an answer, he took the branches from her hands. Surveying them critically, he broke off two or three twigs and threw them away.

  He set off along a small path between the plum grove and the edge of the lake, and she silently followed him. From time to time, he turned his head to ask her a question. She answered briefly, or responded with only a smile.

  Leaving the grove, they crossed a rectangular flower terrace, then went through a small gate. About ten paces beyond was a tunnel. The tunnel was dark, but it was quite straight and not very long. Inside, you could hear the gurgling of spring water. On the other side of the tunnel, the path slanted upward. They mounted about two dozen stone steps, followed a few more twists and turns, and at last reached the top.

  In the center of the small graveled summit was a little stone table with a round stone stool on each of its four sides. A cypress, growing beside the flat face of a large boulder, spread its branches in a sheltering canopy.

  All was still except for the chuckling of a hidden brook, flowing somewhere beneath the rocks.

  “How peaceful,” said Juehui. He placed the blossoms on the table; after wiping the dust off one of the stone stools, he sat down. Mingfeng seated herself opposite him. They couldn’t see each other clearly because of the blossoms heaped between them on the little table.

  With a laugh, Juehui shifted the branches to the stool on his right. Pointing to the stool on his left, he said to Mingfeng, “Sit over here. Why are you afraid to be close to me?”

  Silently, Mingfeng moved to the place he had indicated.

  They faced each other, letting their eyes speak, letting their eyes say the many things words would not express.

  “I must go. I can’t stay too long in the garden. Madam will scold me if she finds out.” Mingfeng stood up.

  Taking her arm, Juehui pulled her down again to the seat. “It doesn’t matter. She won’t say anything. Don’t go yet. We’ve just come. We ­haven’t talked at all. I won’t let you go!”

  She shrank a bit from his touch, but made no further protest.

  “Why don’t you say anything? No one can hear us. Don’t you like me anymore?” Juehui teased. He pretended to be very downcast.

  The girl remained silent. It was as if she hadn’t heard him.

  “You’re probably tired of working for our family. I’ll tell Madam that you’re grown up now, to send you away,” Juehui said idly, with affected unconcern. Actually he was watching her reaction closely.

  Mingfeng turned pale, and the light went out of her eyes. But her trembling lips did not speak. Her eyes glistened like glass, and her lashes fluttered. “You mean it?” she asked. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Juehui knew his teasing had gone too far. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He was only testing her; and he wanted to pay her back for that cold remark. It had not occurred to him that his words could cause her so much pain. He was both satisfied and regretful over the results of his experiment.

  “I’m only joking.” He laughed. “You don’t think I’d really send you away?” But his laughter was forced, for he had been very moved by her emotion.

  “Who knows whether you would or not? You masters and mistresses are all as changeable as the winds. When you’re displeased there’s no telling what you’ll do,” sobbed Mingfeng. “I’ve always known that, sooner or later, I’d go the road of Xi’er, but why must it be so soon?”

  “What do you mean?” Juehui asked gently.

  “What you said. . . .” Mingfeng still wept.

  “I was only teasing you. I’ll never let that happen to you,” he said earnestly. Taking her hand and placing it on his knee, he caressed it soothingly.

  “But suppose that’s what Madam Zhou wants,” demanded Mingfeng, raising her tear-stained face.

  He gazed into her eyes for a moment without replying. Then he said firmly, “I can take care of that, I can make her listen to me. I’ll tell her I want to marry—” Mingfeng’s hand over his mouth cut him short. He was quite sincere in what he was saying, although he hadn’t really given the matter much thought.

  “No, no, you mustn’t do that!” the girl cried. “Madam would never agree. That would finish everything. You mustn’t speak to her. I just wasn’t fated. . . .”

  “Don’t be so frightened.” He removed her hand from his mouth as he said this. “Your face is all streaked with tears. Let me. . . .” He carefully wiped her face with his handkerchief. This time she did not draw back. Wiping the tear-stains, he said with a smile, “Women cry so easily.” He laughed sadly.

  Mingfeng smiled, but it was a melancholy smile, and she said slowly, “I won’t cry anymore after this. Working for your family I’ve shed too many tears already. Here together with you, I certainly shouldn’t cry. . . .”

  “Everything will be all right. We’re both still young. When the time comes, I’ll speak to Madam. I definitely will work something out, I mean it,” he said comfortingly, still caressing her hand.

  “I know your heart,” she replied, touched. Somewhat reassured, she went on, half in a reverie, “I’ve been dreaming about you a lot lately. Once I dreamed I was running through the mountains, chased by a pack of wild animals. Just as they almost caught me, someone rushed down the slope and drove them away. And who do you think it was? You. I’ve always thought of you as my savior!”

  “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize you had so much faith in me.” Juehui’s voice shook. He was deeply moved. “I haven’t taken nearly good enough care of you. I don’t know how to face you. Are you angry with me?”

  “How could I be?” She shook her head and smiled. “All my life I’ve loved only three people. One was my mother. The second was the Elder Young Miss—she taught me to read and to understand many things; she was always helping me. Now both of them are dead. Only one more remains. . . .”

  “Mingfeng, when I think of you I’m ashamed of myself. I live in comfort, while you have such a hard time. Even my little sister scolds you!”

  “I’m used to it, after seven years. It’s much better now, anyhow. I don’t mind so much. . . . I only have to see you, to think of you, and I can stand anything. I often speak your name to myself, though I’d never dare say it aloud in anyone else’s presence.”

  “You suffer too much, Mingfeng! At your age, you ought to be in school. A bright girl like you. I bet you’d be even better than Qin. . . . How wonderful it would be if you had been born in a rich family, or even in a family like Qin’s!” Juehui said regretfully.

  “I never hoped to be a rich young miss; I’m not that lucky. All I want is that you don’t send me away, that I stay here and be your bondmaid all my life. . . . You don’t know how happy I am just seeing you. As long as you’re near me, my heart’s at ease. . . . You don’t know how I respect you. But sometimes you’re like the moon in the sky. I know I can’t reach you.”

  “Don’t talk like that. I’m just an ordinary person, the same as everyone else.” His low voice trembled and tears rolled from his eyes.

  “Be quiet,” she warned suddenly, grasping his arm. “Listen. Someone’s down there.”

  They both listened. The sound,
when it reached them, was very faint. Mingled with the babble of the hidden spring, it was difficult to distinguish clearly. They finally recognized it as the voice of Juemin singing.

  “Second Young Master is going back to the house.” Juehui rose and walked to the edge of the hilltop. He could see a small figure in gray flitting through the pink haze of the plum blossoms. Turning to Mingfeng he said, “It’s Second Young Master, all right.”

  Mingfeng hastily rose to her feet. “I must go back. I’ve been out here too long. . . . It’s probably nearly dinnertime.”

  Juehui handed her the plum blossoms. “If Madam Zhou asks why you’re so late, make up an excuse—anything will do. . . . Say I asked you to do something for me.”

  “All right. I’ll go back first, so we won’t be seen together.” Mingfeng smiled at him, and started down the slope.

  He walked with her a few steps, then stood and watched her slowly descend the stone stairway and disappear around the face of a bluff.

  Alone, he paced the hilltop, all his thoughts devoted to Mingfeng. “She’s so pure, so good . . .” he murmured. Walking over to the little table, he sat down opposite the place she had just vacated, and, resting his elbows on the stone surface, supported his head in his hands and gazed off into the distance. “You’re pure, truly pure . . .” he whispered.

  After a while, he rose abruptly, as if awakening from a dream. He looked all around him, then hurried down the path.

  THE MOONLIGHT WAS lovely that night. Juehui couldn’t sleep. At one in the morning, he was still strolling about the courtyard.

  “Why aren’t you in bed, Third Brother? It’s cold out here.” Juemin had come out and was standing on the steps.

  “With a beautiful moon like this, sleep is a waste of time,” Juehui replied carelessly.

  Juemin walked down the steps into the courtyard. He shivered. “It’s cold,” he repeated, and raised his head to look at the moon.

  There wasn’t a cloud in the night sky. A full moon sailed through a limitless firmament, alone, chaste, its beams lulling all into slumber, coating the ground and the roof tiles with silver. The night was still.