A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  “Have you all finished?” cried Daiyu.

  At once she took up her brush and dashed off eight lines which she tossed over to them. Li Wan and the others read:

  Half-rolled the bamboo blind, half-closed the door;

  Crushed ice serves as mould for jade pots.

  “How do you do it?” exclaimed Baoyu in admiration before reading on.

  Some whiteness from the pear-blossom is stolen, Some of its spirit winter-plum allots.

  “Splendid!” cried the others. “She’s really original.” They read on:

  The goddess of the moon sews a white gown,

  The maid’s weeping in autumn chamber never ends;

  Silently, shyly, with never a word of complaint,

  She reclines in the autumn breeze as night descends.

  “This is the best!” cried the young people. “It’s certainly the most charming and unusual,” said Li Wan. “But our Lady Alpinia’s has deeper significance and real substance.”

  “Quite right,” put in Tanchun. “The Queen of Bamboos should come second.”

  “And the Happy Red Prince last,” said Li Wan. “Agreed?”

  “Mine was no good, that’s quite fair,” said Baoyu with a smile. “But you should reconsider which is the better, Lady Alpinia’s or Queen Bamboo’s.”

  “I’m the arbiter,” insisted Li Wan. “You’ve no say in the matter. Any more argument will be penalized.” So Baoyu said no more.

  “I’ve decided that from now on we should meet on the second and sixteenth of each month,” continued Li Wan. “And you’ll have to accept the subjects and rhymes I choose. You can have extra meetings on other days if you like—I don’t care if you meet every day. But mind you come to my place on the second and sixteenth.”

  “We must choose a name for this club,” declared Baoyu.

  “Nothing too common,” said Tanchun. “Nothing too new-fangled either. As we happened to start with poems on begonia, why not call it Begonia Club? Even if this sounds a little commonplace, as it’s based on fact that doesn’t matter.”

  After some further discussion and some refreshments they parted, some going back to their own rooms, others calling on the Lady Dowager and Lady Wang. But no more of this.

  Now Xiren had wondered what Baoyu was up to when he hurried off with Cuimo after reading the note. When two women from the back gate brought in two pots of begonia some time later, she asked where these were from and was told what had happened. Xiren made them put the plants down and take seats in the servants’ room while she went inside, weighed out sixty cents of silver and fetched another three hundred cash which she handed to the two women.

  “This silver is for the boys who brought the flowers,” she explained. “And the cash is for you to buy drinks.”

  The two women stood up, beaming, to thank her profusely and make a show of declining; but on Xiren’s insistence they accepted the tip.

  “Are there any pages on duty outside the back gate?” she asked them.

  “Yes, there are four of them there every day,” they answered. “If there’s anything you want done, miss, we can tell them.”

  “There’s nothing I want,” answered Xiren, smiling. “But Master Bao wanted to send something today to Miss Shi in the house of the young marquis. It’s lucky you came. When you go out, please tell those boys at the back gate to hire a carriage. As soon as it arrives you can come here to get the money. Don’t let them knock around in the front.”

  When the women had left to see to this, Xiren went back inside to look for a plate on which to put the gifts for Xiangyun; but the plate she wanted was missing from the carved cabinet. Turning round, she saw Qingwen, Qiuwen and Sheyue busy with their needlework.

  “What’s become of that white agate plate with spiral designs?” she asked them.

  The girls looked at each other but could not remember.

  “It was used to send lichees to Miss Tanchun,” said Qingwen after some thought. “They’ve not sent it back yet.”

  “There are plenty of everyday dishes you could have used. Why choose that particular one?” Xiren inquired.

  “Just what I said. But he insisted that plate looked best with the fresh lichees. And when I took it over, Miss Tanchun liked it so much she told me to leave the fruit on it; so I didn’t bring it back. Look, that pair of vases from the top shelf hasn’t come back either.”

  “Speaking of those vases reminds me of something funny,” put in Qiuwen. “When our Master Bao takes it into his head to be filial, he really goes the whole hog. When he saw the fragrant osmanthus in bloom in the Garden he picked two sprays for himself, but all of a sudden he thought better of it. He said, ‘These flowers have just bloomed in our own garden, I shouldn’t be the first to enjoy them.’ He promptly took down those two vases, filled them with water and put the sprays in himself, then having them carried over, he went personally to deliver on to his grandmother, another to his mother.

  “This sudden filial piety on his part brought good luck to his messenger too. I happened to be the one who went that day, and the old lady was as pleased as pleased could be. She told everyone:

  “‘What a good grandson Baoyu is after all, even sending me flowers like this! Yet other people blame me for spoiling him.’

  “You know how little the old lady usually has to say to me. I’ve never been a favourite of hers. But that day she told them to give me a few strings of cash, saying I was a ‘poor, delicate little thing.’ What an unexpected stroke of luck! A few strings of cash mayn’t be much, but it was a rare honour.

  “Then I went to Her Ladyship’s place just as she was looking through some cases with Madam Lian and the concubines Zhao and Zhou, sorting out the bright clothes she’d worn in her young days to give away. When I went in she stopped looking at the clothes to admire the flowers. And to please her Madam Lian started praising Baoyu for being such a considerate, filial son—she came out with two cartloads of compliments. Her Ladyship felt that in front of everyone she had gained credit because of him, and this should silence those who had gossiped about him. She was so delighted that she gave me two gowns on the spot. Clothes are nothing special either—we’re given new ones at any rate every year—but this was a great mark of favour.”

  “Bah, you’re easily pleased,” scoffed Qingwen. “She gives others the best and you the cast-offs, yet you feel you have big face.”

  “Cast-offs or not, it was kind of Her Ladyship.”

  “If I’d been you I wouldn’t have taken them,” retorted Qingwen. “Anyone else’s cast-offs I wouldn’t mind; but why should someone in these rooms be superior to the rest of us? If she got the good clothes and I the cast-offs, I’d refuse them. Even at the risk of offending the mistress, I wouldn’t put up with that.”

  “Who here got the good ones?” demanded Qiuwen quickly. “I was ill for a few days at home, I didn’t know. Do be a dear and tell me.”

  “If I tell you, will you return those gowns to the mistress?”

  “Don’t be silly. I just think it would be fun to know. Even if Her Ladyship gave me the dog’s left-overs, I’d think it kind of her. I don’t worry about other people’s business.”

  The other girls laughed.

  “You’ve hit the nail on the head. They were given to this foreign-species, spotted lap-dog of ours.”

  “May all your tongues rot!” parried Xiren with a smile. “Never miss a chance to make fun of me, do you? You’ll one by one come to a bad end.”

  “So it was you, sister,” said Qiuwen. “I’d no idea. I do apologize.”

  “Stop fooling,” urged Xiren. “I wish one of you would bring that plate back.”

  “Those vases should be fetched back too,” said Sheyue. “It’d be all right in the old lady’s place, but all sorts of people go to Her Ladyship’s rooms. The rest don’t matter, but if Concubine Zhao and that lot saw things from here they’d try some mean trick to break them, and the mistress wouldn’t pay too much attention. We’d better fetch them back
before it’s too late.”

  Qingwen, hearing this, put down her needlework.

  “All right, I’ll go and get them,” she volunteered.

  “I’ll go while you fetch the plate,” offered Qiuwen.

  “No, it’s my turn,” insisted Qingwen, laughing. “Are you going to take all the good errands and leave none for me?”

  “Qiuwen only got clothes that once,” teased Sheyue. “How can you expect to find them looking through clothes again today? That would be too much of a coincidence.”

  Qingwen snorted.

  “Even if I don’t see any clothes, maybe the mistress will think me so trustworthy that she gives me two taels of silver a month from her own allowance too. Who knows?” She laughed. “Don’t try to fool me. I know all about it.”

  With that she ran off, and Qiuwen also left to fetch the plate from Tanchun’s apartments.

  When the plate had been brought, Xiren prepared the gifts then called for Nanny Song who was attached to their compound.

  “Get yourself spruced up and put on your outdoor things,” she said. “I want you to take some presents to Miss Shi.”

  “Just give the things and message to me,” said the nurse. “I’ll get ready and go at once.”

  Xiren picked up two small woven bamboo hampers. The first she opened contained fresh caltrops and euryale seeds; the second, powdered chestnut cake sweetened with osmanthus.

  “These are fresh from our Garden,” she explained. “Master Bao wants Miss Shi to try them. And the other day she admired this agate plate, so she must keep it. Then here, in this silk wrapper, is the needlework she asked me to do. I hope she won’t find it too clumsy. Send her our respects and the young master’s greetings.”

  “Has Master Bao any other messages?” asked the nurse. “Will you go and find out, miss, in case you’ve forgotten something.”

  “Did you see him with Miss Tanchun?” Xiren asked Qiuwen.

  “Yes, they were discussing starting some sort of poetry club and all busy writing poems. I shouldn’t think he has any message. She needn’t wait.”

  As Nanny Song took the things and prepared to leave, Xiren told her to go by the back gate where the boys had a carriage waiting. So the nurse left.

  When Baoyu came back, the first thing he did was to admire the begonia; then, going inside, he told Xiren about the poetry club. She in turn reported how she had sent Nanny Song with the gifts to Xiangyun. He clapped his hands at this.

  “How could we forget her?” he cried. “I felt there was something missing, but couldn’t think what it was. I’m so glad you mentioned her. I meant to invite her. Our poetry club will be no fun without her.”

  “It’s not all that important—just a way to pass the time,” rejoined Xiren. “She’s not as free as the rest of you and has no say at home. If you tell her she’ll want to come, but she may not be able; and if she can’t she’ll be terribly disappointed. You’ll only be upsetting her.”

  “That’s all right,” said Baoyu. “I shall ask my grandmother to send and fetch her.”

  Just then Nanny Song came back to report on her errand. Having expressed Xiangyun’s thanks for the gift she told Xiren, “Miss Shi asked what Master Bao was doing. When I told her, ‘Writing poems with the young ladies and starting a poetry club,’ she was most disappointed you hadn’t let her know. Quite a state she was in!”

  This made Baoyu go straight to the Lady Dowager to insist that Xiangyun should be fetched at once. When the old lady told him that it was too late and she should be invited first thing the next day, he had to accept this reply and returned dejectedly to his own rooms.

  Early the next morning he went back to urge his grandmother to send for Xiangyun, and did not relax until she finally arrived in the afternoon. After greeting her he lost no time in explaining the whole business to her. He was about to show her their poems when Li Wan and the others stopped him.

  “Don’t show her yet,” said Li Wan. “Give her the rhymes. We’ll fine her for coming late by making her write a poem in the same metre first. If it’s good, we’ll welcome her to join the club, if not, she’ll have to stand treat first and then we’ll think it over.”

  “You forgot to ask me; it’s I who should fine you people,” said Xiangyun laughingly. “All right, show me the rhymes. I’m no good, but I don’t mind making a fool of myself. Just let me join the club and I’ll willingly sweep the ground and burn incense for you.”

  “How could we forget her yesterday?” cried the others, delighted to find her so full of fun.

  They quickly told her the rhymes. Xiangyun was too excited to give careful thought to her poems or to polish them. While chatting with the rest she made up some lines and casually wrote them out.

  “I’ve done two verses using the same rhyme sequence,” she said. “I don’t suppose they’re much good, they’re just made to order.”

  She handed over her poems for their inspection.

  “Our four poems exhausted the subject, we couldn’t have written another,” they commented. “Yet here you come up with two. How can you have so much to say, unless you’re repeating us?”

  As they said this they read the poems:

  A fairy flew down last night to the capital

  And planted in a pot these flowers of rare jade.

  Like the goddess of frost who loves the cold,

  But not the wandering spirit of some chaste maid.

  Whence comes this snow on a dull autumn day?

  A night’s rain stains its loveliness;

  But poets will never tire of singing it,

  That it may not pass the day in loneliness.

  The others all applauded this, then went on to read the next.

  Steps through alpinia lead to an ivy-clad gate;

  Fit place, the wall’s comer, for this pot set apart;

  Love of purity makes the flower hold aloof,

  Grief for the autumn breaks its owner’s heart;

  Wind dries the tears on jade candles.

  Crystal screens break up its shadow cast by the moon.

  I long to tell the moon goddess its secret,

  But in the corridor night fades too soon.

  The others exclaimed in delight after each line.

  “See what a good idea it was to write poems on the begonia,” they said. “How right we were to start our Begonia Club.”

  “Tomorrow let me pay my penalty by standing treat and calling the first meeting. All right?” proposed Xiangyun.

  “Perfect!” they cried. Then they asked her opinion of the poems written the previous day.

  That evening Baochai invited Xiangyun to stay with her, and by lamplight Xiangyun outlined her plans for entertaining the others and setting subjects for poems. But Baochai thought all her proposals unsuitable.

  “Since you’ve called a meeting, you’re the hostess,” she pointed out. “Although it’s just fun, you must make proper provision. Do the thing cheaply but give no grounds for complaints; then everyone can have a good time.

  “You’re not in charge at home, and the few strings of cash you get each month hardly cover your own expenses; yet you took this on yourself quite needlessly. When your aunt hears of it she’s bound to scold you. Why, your whole allowance isn’t enough to stand treat. Are you going home to ask for more? Or will you ask them here for money?”

  This set Xiangyun worrying.

  “Actually, I have an idea,” continued Baochai. “One of the assistants in our pawnshop has a farm which produces fine crabs, and the other day he sent us several catties. Most of the people here, from the old lady down to those in the Garden, are very partial to crabs. Only the other day aunt talked of inviting the old lady to the Garden to enjoy the fragrant osmanthus and eat some crabs; but she’s been too busy to ask her. So don’t mention the poetry club but just issue a general invitation, and after the older people have left we can write all the poems we please.

  “I’ll get my brother to send us a few crates of the biggest crabs wi
th some vats of good wine from our shop, in addition to which we’ll prepare four or five tables of other refreshments. That’s easily done and we’ll all have a good time.”

  Xiangyun was extremely grateful.

  “You’ve thought it all out!” she exclaimed admiringly.

  “I’m only thinking of you,” replied Baochai. “You mustn’t be touchy or imagine I look down on you, because this is between friends. If you’ve no objection, I’ll tell them to go ahead.”

  “My dear cousin, you’re being touchy instead if you talk like that,” said Xiangyun. “However scatter-brained I may be, I know when someone’s being good to me. At least I’ve that much sense. If I didn’t look on you as my own elder sister, I wouldn’t have confided to you last time all the troubles I have at home.”

  Accordingly Baochai ordered a serving-woman, “Go and ask my brother to get us several crates of big crabs like those we had the other day. Tomorrow after lunch we’re inviting the old lady and my aunt to see the fragrant osmanthus in the Garden. Tell him to be sure not to forget, as I’ve already issued the invitations.”

  The old woman went off to do as she was told.

  Then Baochai advised Xiangyun, “The themes for verses shouldn’t be too outlandish. You can see that the poets of old times didn’t go in for far-fetched subjects or freakish rhymes. Such things don’t make for good poems and seem rather lowclass. Of course, poetry shouldn’t be stereotyped, but we mustn’t overdo the emphasis on originality either. So long as our ideas are fresh, the language can’t be vulgar. In any case, writing poetry isn’t important. Our main jobs are spinning and sewing. If we’ve time to spare, the proper thing for us is to read a few chapters of some improving book.”

  Xiangyun, having agreed to this, suggested, “As we wrote poems on the begonia yesterday, I wonder if we could write about the chrysanthemum this time?”

  “Yes, the chrysanthemum is suitable for autumn. The only objection is that too many poems have been written about it in the past.”