A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  Day after day a drowsy dream of love.’

  Baoyu felt his heart strangely stirred. And looking more closely, he could make out Daiyu, who was stretching herself on her bed.

  He laughed.

  “Why ‘Day after day a drowsy dream of love’?” he called, then raising the portiere walked in.

  Blushing to think she had given herself away, Daiyu hid her face with her sleeve and turned towards the wall, pretending to be asleep. As Baoyu went up to her to turn her over, her nurse and two other old women followed him in.

  “Your cousin’s asleep, sir. We shall ask you in when she wakes up.”

  Daiyu promptly turned over and sat up with a laugh.

  “Who’s asleep?”

  The three old women smiled.

  “Our mistake, miss.”

  They left after calling Zijuan to attend to her young mistress.

  “What do you mean by coming in when people are asleep?” Daiyu challenged Baoyu with a smile as, sitting on the bed, she smoothed her hair.

  The sight of her soft flushed cheeks, and her starry eyes now faintly misted over, enraptured Baoyu. He sank smiling into a chair. “What was that you were saying just now?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you did. I heard you.”

  Zijuan appeared at this point.

  “Zijuan,” said Baoyu, “Pour a cup of that good tea of yours for me, will you?”

  “What good tea have we got?” she retorted. “If you want good tea, better wait till Xiren comes.”

  “Pay no attention to him,” said Daiyu. “First go and get me some water.”

  Zijuan laughed.

  “He’s a guest, so of course I must get him tea before I fetch you water.”

  As she left to do this Baoyu exclaimed, “Good girl!

  Should I share the bridal curtains with your sweet mistress,

  How could I give you the task of preparing the bed?”

  At once Daiyu’s face clouded over. “What’s that you said?” she demanded.

  “I didn’t say anything, did I?”

  Baoyu chuckled.

  Daiyu began to cry.

  “So this is your latest diversion,” she sobbed. “All the dirty talk you hear outside, you repeat to me; and any disgusting books you read, you quote to make fun of me. A laughing-stock for you gentlemen, that’s what I’ve become!”

  Scrambling off the bed she walked away in tears. Baoyu followed her in alarm.

  “Dear cousin, it was very wrong of me, but please don’t tell!” he begged. “May it blister my mouth and rot my tongue if I dare say such things again.”

  Just then Xiren came in.

  “Quick,” she said. “Come back and change. The master wants you.”

  This summons fell on his ears like a clap of thunder. Forgetting all else he rushed back to change, and hurried out of the Garden. Beiming was waiting for him at the inner gate.

  “Do you know why my father wants me?” asked Baoyu.

  “Hurry up, sir,” said the page. “At any rate you’ll have to go. You’ll find out why when you get there.”

  He hustled his master off.

  They passed the main hall, Baoyu with a sinking heart, when a bellow of laughter sounded just round the corner. Out sprang Xue Pan, clapping his hands.

  “If I hadn’t said your father wanted you, you’d never have come so quickly,” he declared.

  Beiming, laughing too, fell on his knees.

  It took some moments for Baoyu to realize he had been tricked.

  Xue Pan bowed in apology, raising clasped hands.

  “Don’t blame this young rascal,” he said. “I put him up to it.”

  Baoyu had no alternative but to smile.

  “I don’t mind your fooling me,” he said, “but why pretend to be my father? Shall I go and ask your mother what she thinks of your conduct?”

  “My dear cousin, I was in such a hurry to see you that I forgot that taboo. Another day you can get even with me by pretending that my father wants to see me.”

  “You wretch!” exclaimed Baoyu. “You deserve to drop dead.” He rounded on Beiming. “What are you still kneeling there for, you treacherous dog?”

  The page promptly kowtowed and got up.

  “I wouldn’t have disturbed you,” Xue Pan explained, “but the third of the fifth month will be my birthday. And Cheng Rixing the curio dealer managed—goodness only knows where—to get hold of a fresh, crisp lotus root this thick and this long, a huge melon this size, a fresh sturgeon this long and a whopping great Siamese pig smoked with fragrant cedar which came as tribute from Siam. They must have been hard to come by, such presents, eh? The fish and the pig are just expensive rarities, but heaven knows how they managed to grow a lotus-root and melon of that size. I gave some at once to my mother, then sent portions to your old lady and your parents; but I’ve still quite a bit left. To hog it all myself might bring me bad luck; and after thinking it over I decided you were the only one fit to share it. So I came over specially to invite you. Luckily a singing-boy has just turned up too. Why don’t we make a day of it together?”

  By now they had reached his study where they found Zhan Guang, Cheng Rixing, Hu Silai and Shan Pinren as well as the singing-boy. When greetings had been exchanged and tea drunk, Xue Pan ordered the feast to be served. At once his pages bustled about to lay the table, and when all was finally ready the party took their seats.

  Baoyu saw that the melon and lotus-root were quite phenomenal.

  “I haven’t yet sent you over a birthday present, but here I am enjoying myself at your expense,” he remarked with a smile.

  “That’s right,” said Xue Pan. “What are you planning to send me?”

  “I haven’t anything really. The money, clothes, food and stuff like that in my place aren’t mine to give. The only thing I could give you of my own would be a scroll of my calligraphy or painting.”

  “Talking of painting,” put in Xue Pan with a grin, “reminds me of an erotic picture I saw in someone’s house the other day. Really superb it was. I didn’t read all the inscriptions carefully, just noticed the artist’s name: Geng Huang. The picture was marvellous.”

  Baoyu was puzzled. He knew the work of many calligraphers and painters past and present, but had never heard of an artist called Geng Huang. After a little thought he burst out laughing. He called for a brush and wrote two characters on the palm of his left hand.

  “Are you sure the name was Geng Huang?” he asked Xue Pan.

  “Of course.”

  Baoyu held out his hand.

  “It wasn’t these two characters? They’re not very different.” When they saw he had written Tang Yin, they declared, laughing, “That must be it. Mr. Xue’s eyes may have been blurred at the time.” Xue Pan grinned sheepishly.

  “Who cares whether the fellow’s name means ‘sweet-silver’ or ‘nut-silver’?” he spluttered in his embarrassment.

  Just then “Mr. Feng” was announced by one of the servants. Baoyu realized this must be Feng Ziying, the son of Feng Tang, General Shenwu. All urged that he be asked in. And before the words were out of their mouths Feng Ziying strode, chatting and laughing, into the room. They rose to offer him a seat.

  “Fine!” Feng chuckled. “You don’t go out, just enjoy yourselves at home.”

  Both Xue Pan and Baoyu smiled.

  “We haven’t seen you for some time,” they said. “Is your father well?”

  “Very well, thank you. But my mother recently contracted a chill and has been out of sorts for two days.”

  Xue Pan noticed some bruises on his face.

  “Been fighting again?” he asked. “Who left his mark on your face?”

  “Ever since I beat up Colonel Qiu’s son I’ve made a point of keeping my temper. No more fist-fights for me. This happened the other day out hunting on Iron-Net Mountain, when my falcon caught me on the cheek with its wing.”

  “When was that?” asked Baoyu.

  “We left on
the twenty-eighth of the third month and only got back the day before yesterday.”

  “No wonder I didn’t see you when I called on Shen on the third, or was it the fourth. I meant to ask where you were but I forgot. Did you go alone on this trip or with your father?”

  “With my father, of course. I couldn’t get out of it. Do you think me crazy enough to prefer roughing it to drinking with you and listening to songs? This time, though, something lucky turned up in my bad luck.”

  As he had now finished his tea, Xue Pan and the others asked him to join them at the table and take his time telling them just what had happened. But instead Feng rose to leave.

  “You must excuse me. Really I should drink a few cups with you, but I’ve some very urgent business today to report to my father.”

  Xue Pan, Baoyu and the others would not hear of this and laid hands on him to keep him.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You ought to know me better,” he protested. “I really can’t stay. But if you insist, get me a big cup and I’ll drain two cups with you.”

  They had to agree to this. Xue Pan took the pot, Baoyu held the cup, and they poured two large cupfuls which Feng Ziying stood up and drained in a single breath.

  “Do tell us before you leave what’s your good luck in a stretch of bad,” urged Baoyu.

  Feng Ziying only laughed.

  “I can’t go into the details today. But I promise to invite you all to a special party when we can have a good talk. I’ve a favour to ask you too.” Raising his clasped hands to say goodbye he started off.

  “You’re just whetting our curiosity,” objected Xue Pan. “When is this party to be? Tell us now so as not to leave us in suspense.”

  “In ten days at the latest, maybe eight.”

  Then Feng Ziying went out, mounted his horse and rode off. The others returned from seeing him off to drink some more before the party dispersed.

  When Baoyu went back to the Garden, Xiren was still worrying about the summons from his father, not knowing whether it meant trouble or the reverse. Seeing that Baoyu was tipsy, she asked him what had happened and he told her in detail.

  “We were waiting here on tenterhooks while you had a good time,” she said reproachfully. “You might at least have sent word.”

  “I meant to, but when Feng turned up I forgot.”

  Just then Baochai came in.

  “So you’ve been treated to those delicacies of ours,” she teased. “Surely you and your family must have tasted them before us, cousin,” he countered.

  Baochai shook her head.

  “Yesterday my brother did urge me to try them, but I didn’t. I told him to keep them for others. I know it’s not in my stars to deserve such dainties.”

  A maid brought her some tea as she spoke, and while she drank it they chatted. But no more of this.

  Daiyu too had been worried on Baoyu’s behalf when she heard that he had not come back all day after being sent for by his father. After dinner she learned of his return and decided to find out from him what had happened. As she strolled over she saw Baochai going into Happy Red Court before her. But noticing some unusually beautiful water-fowl of various species unknown to her splashing about in the pool by Seeping Fragrance Bridge, she stopped for a while to admire their brilliant colours. By the time she reached Happy Red Court the gate was closed and she was obliged to knock.

  It so happened that Qingwen was in a bad humour, having just quarrelled with Bihen, and at Baochai’s arrival she transferred her anger to the visitor. She was grumbling in the courtyard:

  “She keeps coming here and sitting around for no reason, keeping us up till the third watch at night.”

  Now this fresh knocking on the gate only incensed her further.

  “They’ve all gone to bed,” she cried, not troubling to ask who it was. “Come back tomorrow.”

  Daiyu know the maids’ ways and the tricks they played on each other. Assuming that the girl in the courtyard had failed to recognize her voice and taken her for another maid, she called out again more loudly.

  “It’s me. Open the gate!”

  Still Qingwen did not recognize her voice.

  “I don’t care who you are,” she said crossly. “Master Bao’s given orders that no one’s to be admitted.”

  Rooted indignantly to the spot and tempted to let fly at her, Daiyu reflected, “Although my aunt’s house is a second home to me, I’m after all an outsider here. With both my parents dead, I’ve no one to turn to except this family. It would be foolish to start a real rumpus.”

  As she thought thus, tears ran down her cheeks. She was wondering whether or not to go back when the sound of talk and laughter inside— she distinguished the voices of Baoyu and Baochai—upset her even more. She thought back then to the events of the morning.

  “Baoyu must be angry with me, thinking I told on him,” she reflected. “But I never did! You ought to investigate before flying into a temper like this. You can shut me out today, but shall we not see each other still tomorrow?”

  The more she thought, the more distressed she felt. Oblivious of the cold dew on the green moss and the chill wind on the path, standing under the blossom by the corner of the wall she gave way to sobs. And the sound of this beauty’s weeping—for Daiyu was the loveliest creature ever seen—made the birds fly away from their roosts on the willows and flowering trees, unable to bear her distress.

  Truly:

  The hearts of the flowers were broken,

  The birds were woken from their senseless dreams.

  The reason is told in these lines:

  Peerless the beauty and talent of this girl

  Wrapped in scent from embroidered curtains come alone;

  Before her first sob dies away

  Flowers strew the ground, the affrighted birds have flown.

  As Daiyu was sobbing to herself the gate creaked open. If you want to know who came out, read the next chapter.

  Chapter 27

  Baochai Chases a Butterfly to Dripping Emerald Pavilion

  Daiyu Weeps over Fallen Blossom by the Tomb of Flowers

  As Daiyu was weeping, the gate creaked open and out came Baochai escorted by Baoyu, Xiren and other maids. Daiyu was tempted to accost Baoyu, but not wanting to embarrass him in public she stepped aside until Baochai had left and the others had gone in, when she came back and shed more tears before the closed gate. Then she went back in low spirits to her room and prepared listlessly for bed.

  Zijuan and Xueyan knew their young mistress’ ways. She would often sit moodily frowning or sighing over nothing or, for no apparent reason, would give way to long spells of weeping. At first they had tried to comfort her, imagining that she missed her parents and home or that someone had been unkind; but as time went by and they found this was her habit they paid little further attention. So tonight they withdrew to bed, leaving her to brood by herself.

  Daiyu leaned against her bed-rail, clasping her knees. Her eyes were brimming with tears. There she stayed motionless as a statue, not lying down until after the second watch.

  The next day was the twenty-sixth of the fourth month, the Festival of Grain in Ear. It was the time-honoured custom on this day to offer all manner of gifts and a farewell feast to the God of Flowers, for this festival was said to mark the beginning of summer when all the blossom had withered and the God of Flowers had to resign his throne and be seen off. As this custom is most faithfully observed by women, all the inmates of Grand View Garden rose early that day. The girls used flowers and osiers to weave small sedan-chairs and horses, or made pennants and flags of silk and gauze which they tied with gay ribbons to every tree and flower, turning the whole Garden into a blaze of colour. They decked themselves out so prettily, too, as to put the very flowers and birds to shame. But time forbids us to dwell on that splendid scene.

  Now Baochai, the three Jia girls, Li Wan and Xifeng were enjoying themselves in the Garden with Xifeng’s little daughter as well as Xiangling and the other maids. Only one p
erson was missing, and that was Daiyu.

  “Why isn’t Cousin Lin here?” asked Yingchun. “Surely the lazy creature isn’t still sleeping?”

  “I’ll go and rouse her,” volunteered Baochai. “The rest of you wait here and I’ll soon bring her.”

  She set off instantly for Bamboo Lodge.

  On the way she met the twelve young actresses headed by Wenguan, who greeted her and chatted for a while. Then Baochai told them how to find the others and, having explained her own errand, followed the winding path towards Daiyu’s quarters. As she approached Bamboo Lodge she saw Baoyu enter the courtyard. That made her pause and lower her head in thought.

  “Baoyu and Daiyu grew up under one roof,” she reflected. “They’re so free and easy together, they don’t care how they tease each other or show their feelings. And Daiyu’s rather jealous and petty-minded. If I follow Baoyu in, he may not like it and she may resent it. I’d better go back.”

  She had started back to rejoin the other girls when a pair of jade-coloured butterflies the size of a circular fan appeared before her. They fluttered up and down most bewitchingly in the breeze. What fun it would be to catch them! Baochai drew her fan from her sleeve and ran after them over the grass. Hitting now high now low, this way and that, the butterflies led her through the flowers and willows all the way to the water’s brink. By the time she neared Dripping Emerald Pavilion, panting and perspiring from all her exertions, she decided to give up the pursuit and go back. But just then she heard muffled voices from the pavilion.

  Now this pavilion, which stood out in the middle of the pool, was surrounded on four sides by covered corridors with balustrades and connected with the banks by zigzag bridges. It had papered latticed windows on all four sides. Baochai stopped outside it to catch what was being said. “Look at this handkerchief. If it’s the one you lost, you can have it. If not, I’ll take it back to Master Yun.”

  “Of course it’s mine. Let me have it.”

  “What thanks am I going to get? You don’t expect me to do this for nothing, do you?”

  “Don’t worry. I promised you something, I won’t cheat you.”