by Cao Xueqin
“I’m an old woman,” said the Lady Dowager. “Old enough to be his mother. Why should I be afraid of his laughing at me? Leave the curtains as they are, he can see me like this.”
The maids moved a small table up to the bed, put a tiny cushion on it and sent to invite the doctor in. Presently Jia Zhen, Jia Lian and Jia Rong led Doctor Wang over. Not presuming to walk up the central ramp, he took the side Steps up the terrace behind Jia Zhen. Two serving-women had the portiere raised and two others ushered him in, while Baoyu came out to greet him.
The Lady Dowager in a blue silk tunic lined with a curly sheepskin was seated on the couch. On either side stood two short-haired young maids holding whisks, rinse-bowls and the like, while ranged beside them were half a dozen old nurses; and behind the green gauze screen the doctor glimpsed other figures wearing gay silks and trinkets set with precious stones and pearls. Lowering his head, he advanced to pay his respects. The Lady Dowager saw from his robes of the sixth official rank that this was one of the Imperial physicians.
With a smile she greeted him, then asked Jia Zhen: “What is this gentleman’s honourable name?”
“Wang.”
“In the old days,” she said, “the director of the Academy of Imperial Physicians, Wang Junxiao, was an excellent diagnostician.”
Wang bowed and, his head lowered, rejoined with a smile, “He was my great-uncle.”
“So our families are old friends.” With these words she slowly placed one hand on the cushion. An old nurse put a low stool slightly to one side of the table and Doctor Wang, sitting respectfully on the edge of the stool, bent one knee to lean over the couch. He felt both her pulses in turn for some length of time, his head inclined meditatively, after which he rose with a bow, his head lowered, to take his leave.
“Thank you for your trouble,” said the Lady Dowager. “Zhen, take the doctor to the study and see that he gets some tea.”
Jia Zhen and Jia Lian, quick to obey her instructions, conducted the doctor to the study outside.
There he told them, “There is nothing wrong with the old lady except a slight chill. She need not take any medicine. A light diet and keeping warm will put her right. However, I’ll make out a prescription and if she likes the old lady can take one dose. If she feels disinclined, it’s of no consequence.”
He sipped some tea then and wrote out the prescription. Just as he was about to leave, Dajie’s nurse carried her in and asked with a smile: “Will Doctor Wang look at us too?”
The doctor at once stood up. Supporting the child’s hand with his own left hand as she nestled in the nurse’s arms, with his right hand he felt her pulse. Then he felt her forehead and made her show him her tongue.
“This young lady may scold me for what I’m going to say,” he told them with a smile. “She will be all right if she just goes without two meals. There’s no need to dose her with medicine. I’ll bring some pills for her to take dissolved in ginger-water before sleeping.”
With that he left, seen off by Jia Zhen and the others. They went back to report his diagnosis to the Lady Dowager, then laid the prescription on her desk and withdrew. Lady Wang and the younger women and girls had emerged from behind the screen once the doctor had gone, and Lady Wang sat there a little longer before returning to her own apartments.
When Granny Liu knew that the old lady was free, she came in to say goodbye. The Lady Dowager urged her to come again and told Yuanyang:
“See Granny Liu out. I’m not well enough to see her off myself.”
Then with final thanks Granny Liu took her leave and withdrew with Yuanyang to the maids’ room. Yuanyang pointed at a bundle on the kang.
“Those are two sets of clothes given to the old lady on previous birthdays,” she said. “She never wears anything made outside, and it’s a pity to keep them stored away, but she’s never once put them on. Yesterday she told me to choose two sets for you to take back—you can either give them away or wear them at home. In this hamper are the pastries you asked for. In this packet the medicines: plum-blossom powder, purple-gold pills, tonic for the blood and restorative pills, each kind wrapped up with directions for its use. Here are two embroidered pouches you can wear for fun.” She loosened the strings of these and took out two silver ingots. Showing her the device “May your wishes come true,” she suggested with a smile, “You take the pouches, granny, and leave these to me.”
Granny Liu, in such raptures already that she had invoked Buddha several hundred times, at once agreed, “Of course, you keep them, miss.”
Yuanyang smiled to see that the old woman thought her in earnest. Replacing the ingots she said, “I was only teasing. I’ve plenty of these. Keep them to give the children at New Year.”
And now a young maid stepped forward to hand Granny Liu a porcelain bowl made in the Cheng Hua period.
“This is a present from Master Bao,” she announced. “Well, imagine that!” cried Granny Liu, taking the bowl. “I must have done good deeds in some past life to have all this happen today.”
“Those clothes you changed into when I asked you to have a bath the other day were mine,” Yuanyang told her. “If they’re any use to you keep them, and here are a few others.”
As Granny Liu hastily thanked her, she produced two more sets of clothing and wrapped them up for her. The old woman wanted to go to the Garden to say goodbye to Baoyu, the young ladies and Lady Wang, but Yuanyang prevented her.
“There’s no need. They don’t see people at this hour. I’ll tell them later. You must come again when you’ve time.”
An old serving-woman was dispatched to get a boy from the inner gate to help Granny Liu with her things. Then they went to Xifeng’s apartments to fetch the gifts there, which the page carried out through the side gate and loaded on to the carriage they had hired. Finally, the old serving-woman escorted Granny Liu to the carriage and saw her off.
After breakfast, Baoyu and the others paid their respects again to the Lady Dowager, after which they returned to the Garden. Where their ways parted Baochai said to Daiyu:
“Come with me. I’ve something to ask you.”
So Daiyu accompanied her to Alpinia Court.
As soon as they arrived, Baochai sat down and announced teasingly, “You must kneel down. I’m going to try you.”
“The girl must be mad!” exclaimed Daiyu in amazement. “What am I to be tried for?”
“A fine young lady you are, a sheltered, innocent girl!” Baochai snorted. “Yet the things you say! Confess now.”
Daiyu, who had not the least idea what she meant, was amused but beginning to be worried too.
“What have I said wrong?” she asked. “You’re just trying to pick fault. Tell me what you mean.”
“So you’re still playing the innocent.” Baochai smiled. “What were those lines you quoted yesterday when we played the drinking game? I couldn’t think where they had come from.”
Daiyu remembered then that, the day before, she had been careless enough to quote two lines from The Peony Pavilion and The Western Chamber. Her cheeks flaming, she threw her arms round Baochai and giggled:
“Dear cousin, they slipped out inadvertently. Now that you’ve scolded me, I promise not to say them again.”
“They were new to me but I was so struck by them I’d like to know where they’re from.”
“Don’t tell anyone, dear cousin! I won’t do it again.”
She was blushing in such confusion and pleading so hard that Baochai had not the heart to question her further. Instead she made her sit down and have some tea.
“You may not believe it, but I used to be a madcap too,” she said gently. “At seven and eight I was a real handful. Our family could be considered a scholarly one, and my grandfather’s chief delight was collecting books. There were a lot of us in those days, boys and girls together, and we all hated serious books. Some of my boy cousins liked poetry, others librettoes. We had books like The Western Chamber, Tale of the Lute and A Hundred Dramas of the Y
uan Dynasty—a whole collection of that sort. They used to read them in secret, and so did we girls. When the grown-ups later found out, we were beaten or scolded and the books were burnt, which put a stop to that.
“So it’s best for girls like us not to know how to read. Even boys, if they study to no good purpose would do better not to study at all, and that’s even truer in our case. Poetry-writing and calligraphy are not required of us, nor of boys either for that matter. If boys learn sound principles by studying so that they can help the government to rule the people, well and good; but nowadays we don’t hear of many such cases—reading only seems to make them worse than they were to start with. And while study leads them astray, the books they read are debased too. So it’s worse than taking up farming or trade, for in those professions they could do less damage. As for us, we should just stick to needlework. If we happen to have a little education we should choose proper books to read. If we let ourselves be influenced by those unorthodox books, there’s no hope for us.”
Daiyu had lowered her head to sip tea during this lecture and, rather impressed by it, she now simply murmured, “Yes.”
Just then Suyun came in to announce, “Our mistress wants you both to go and discuss some important business. All the other young ladies are there with Master Bao.”
“What can this be?” wondered Baochai.
“We’ll know when we get there,” said Daiyu. They went to Paddy-Sweet Cottage, where they found all the others assembled.
Li Wan told them gaily, “Before we’ve got our club going, someone’s trying to wriggle out. Here’s Xichun asking for a whole year’s leave.”
“That’s all because the old lady told her yesterday to paint a picture of the Garden,” said Daiyu. “She’s glad of the excuse to ask for leave.”
“You can’t blame it on the old lady,” countered Tanchun. “It was Granny Liu who started it.”
“That’s right,” rejoined Daiyu promptly. “It’s all owing to her. Whose granny is she anyway? Old Mother Locust would be a better name for her.”
Everybody laughed.
“Xifeng knows all the usual run of smart talk,” said Baochai. “Luckily she hasn’t had too much education, so all her jokes are the vulgar talk of the town. But now our sharp-tongued Daiyu is using the method of the Spring-and-Autumn Annals to condense such talk, extract its essence and colour it with metaphors so that every phrase tells. How graphically the name Old Mother Locust conjures up everything that happened yesterday. What a ready wit!”
“Your commentaries are quite up to their standard too,” cried the others, laughing.
Li Wan interposed, “I asked you here to decide how much leave to allow her. I said a month, but she thinks that’s too short. What do you say?”
“Actually a year isn’t too long,” replied Daiyu. “Since this Garden took a year to build, painting it will naturally require two, what with grinding the ink, spreading out the paper, dipping the brushes in the colours and then....”
Before she could finish the others, knowing that she was poking fun at Xichun, asked, “And then what?”
Unable to hold back her laughter, Daiyu went on, “Then slowly painting the whole thing in detail. It will surely take two years.”
This sally was greeted with hilarious applause.
“Marvellous!” cried Baochai. “Especially that last bit about ‘slowly painting.’ Painting is the crux of the business, isn’t it? That’s why all those jokes yesterday seemed funny at the time, not when you look back on them; but when you consider what she’s just said, though there seems nothing to it, it’s so funny in retrospect that I can’t move for laughing.”
“You’re egging her on to show off,” complained Xichun. “And at my expense this time.”
Daiyu caught hold of her arm. “Tell me, are you just painting the Garden or us as well?” she asked.
“The idea at first was just the Garden,” said Xichun. “But yesterday the old lady objected that that would look like an architect’s drawing. She told me to put everybody in, just as in a family outing. I’m no good at the details of buildings or at painting people either, but I can’t very well back out now. A fine fix I’m in.”
“People are easy,” said Daiyu. “But can you paint insects?”
“You’re talking nonsense again,” objected Li Wan. “What insects does this painting need? A bird or two, perhaps, would be appropriate.”
“We can dispense with other insects,” giggled Daiyu. “But the painting will have no point without yesterday’s Old Mother Locust.” This produced a fresh outburst of laughter. Shaking with mirth and pressing her hands to her heart, Daiyu cried, “Do start soon. I’ve even got the title ready for you. Call it Guzzling in the Company of the Locust.”
That set them rocking backwards and forwards with laughter until something crashed to the floor. At once all looked round. Xiangyun had been leaning on the back of a chair and, this being none too steady, her weight on it as she laughed had toppled it over, upsetting both girl and chair. Luckily the partition stopped her from slipping to the ground. This sight convulsed the whole party. Baoyu hastily helped Xiangyun up, and by degrees they regained control of themselves.
Baoyu then shot Daiyu a glance. Taking the hint she went into the bedroom and took the cover off the mirror to have a look. Seeing that the hair at her temples was dishevelled, she smoothed it with a hair-brush from Li Wan’s dressing-case, then put the brush away again and rejoined the party.
Wagging one finger at Li Wan she demanded, “Are you teaching us needlework and sound principles, or are you getting us here to romp and have fun?”
“Just listen to her!” protested Li Wan. “She takes the lead in sending you into hysterics but puts the blame on me. What a terror she is! Well, I just hope, when you marry, you’ll get a fierce mother-in-law and several really vicious sisters-in-law. We’ll see if you can go on being so cheeky then.”
Daiyu, flushing, caught hold of Baochai. “Let’s grant her one year’s leave.”
“I’ll make a fair proposal,” countered Baochai. “Listen, all of you. What Xichun’s best at is impressionistic sketches, whereas for a painting of this Garden one needs to have the whole lay-out in mind. As a matter of fact, this Garden itself is exactly like a painting with just the right number of rocks, trees, pavilions and villas near and far, some scattered, some grouped together. If you put all that on paper as it is, the result can’t possibly please. You must consider the spacing on the paper, how much to present in the background, how much in the foreground, what to play up and what to play down. Certain things should be added, others left out; certain things should be hidden, others revealed. And you must study your draft carefully to produce a good composition.
“The second essential thing is that in order to get the proportions of the buildings right you’ll have to use a ruler. The least carelessness may result in crooked balustrades, collapsing pillars, lopsided windows and doors, steps out of line, or even tables squashed into the walls and flowerpots perched on top of screens. Then the whole thing would be a joke.
“The third thing is to make sure that the figures put in are suitably spaced and at different heights. Then the folds of their clothes, their girdles, their fingers and the way they walk are especially important. One slip of the brush and you’ll get swollen hands and deformed feet which will look worse than dirty faces or tousled hair.
“So it seems to me a very difficult job. One year’s leave is too long, but one month is too short. I suggest allowing her half a year and asking Cousin Bao to help her. Not that he can teach her anything about painting—he’d only hold her up—but if she has any problems or difficulties he can help solve them by consulting those gentlemen in the study outside who are good at painting.”
“That’s a good idea,” cried Baoyu eagerly. “Zhan Ziliang paints excellent pavilions in the meticulous style and Cheng Rixing does superb beauties. I can go and consult them right away.”
“‘Much Ado About Nothing’—
that’s you,” observed Baochai. “I say one word and off you go to consult them. At least wait till we’ve reached a decision. First let’s discuss what materials we’ll need.”
“We’ve some big sheets of xue lang paper at home which absorbs ink well,” put in Baoyu.
“I knew you’d be no use.” Baochai smiled mockingly. “That xue lang paper absorbs the ink and gives good shading effects for calligraphy, ink sketches or landscapes of the Southern School. But if you used it for this, the colours wouldn’t stand out and would easily run. You’d ruin the picture and simply waste the paper.
“So let me make a suggestion. When this Garden was built there was a detailed architect’s drawing, and though it was done by craftsmen the lay-out and directions are accurate. Ask Lady Wang for that and Xifeng for a piece of heavy weight silk of the same size, then get the secretaries outside to have the silk prepared and make a draft according to the drawing with some additions or omissions; and once you’ve put in the figures there’s your painting. Ask them to prepare the green and blue colours and the gold and silver too. In addition you’ll need portable stoves to melt and extract the glue, as well as to heat water to clean the brushes. A big varnished table with a felt cover will be needed too. You haven’t enough paint-saucers or brushes either. You’d better buy new sets.”
“I haven’t all that equipment,” exclaimed Xichun. “I just paint with my writing-brushes. And the only pigments I have are red-ochre, indigo, gamboge and rouge. Apart from that, all I have is a couple of colouring brushes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” scolded Baochai. “I’ve got all that paraphernalia, more than you’d need—you couldn’t have used it all if I’d sent it over. I’ll keep it for you, and let you have whatever you want when you need it. But these things are only good for painting fans; it would be a pity to use them on a painting this size. I’ll make out for you now a list of materials you can ask the old lady for. In case you don’t know everything that’s required, I’ll list them and Cousin Bao can write them down.”