A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  “Qi’s not too good at poetry,” said Li Wan. “Let Baoqin take her place.”

  Baochai had to accept this. She added, “Let’s choose the three characters ‘red plum flower’ as rhymes. Each of them can write a heptasyllabic regulated verse, Xiuyan using the rhyme ‘red,’ Wen ‘plum’ and Baoqin ‘flower.’“

  “That’s all very well,” said Li Wan. “But we mustn’t let Baoyu off.”

  “I’ve another good subject for him,” put in Xiangyun quickly. Asked what it was, she replied, “‘Calling on Miaoyu to Beg for Red Plum-Blossom.’ Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  They were voicing their approval when Baoyu came back, beaming, holding a branch of red blossom. The maids at once took it and put it in the vase, while all the others expressed their appreciation.

  “Go ahead and enjoy it,” said Baoyu. “You don’t know the trouble it cost me.”

  Tanchun handed him another cup of hot wine, and maids came to take his cape and hat and shake off the snow. Maids from different apartments had brought extra clothing for all their young mistresses, and Xiren had sent Baoyu an old jacket lined with fox-fur. Li Wan ordered a dish of steamed taros and two plates of tangerines, oranges and olives to be sent back to Xiren, while Xiangyun told Baoyu the subject just chosen for him and urged him to hurry up and write.

  “Do let me choose my own rhymes, good cousins,” he begged. “Don’t set the rhymes for me.”

  The rest agreed, “All right. Do as you like.”

  Meanwhile they were looking at the plum-blossom bough. Only about two feet in height with a side branch nearly five or six feet long, it had branchlets coiling like dragons or worms, others pointed like brushes, or densely twigged as a forest; and the petals, red as rouge, were fragrant as orchids. As the others were admiring this, Xiuyan, Li Wen and Baoqin composed and wrote out their poems. The rest read them in the order of their rhymes as follows:

  RED PLUM-BLOSSOM

  Rhyming “red’

  Braving the cold it blossoms for the east wind

  Ere peach trees bloom or apricots turn red;

  In a dream, rosy clouds bar the way to Mount Luofu,

  But to Yuling’s eternal spring my soul has fled.

  Green sepals, rouged, blend into brilliant torches,

  Tipsy snow-sprites over shattered rainbows have sped;

  We can see this is no ordinary beauty

  That in the snow and ice blooms pink and red.

  Xing Xiuyan

  Rhyming “plum”

  What loveliness assails my drunken eyes?

  This not the white I sing, but the red plum.

  Its frozen cheeks are stained with tears of blood,

  Its heart though free from misery is numb.

  Transformed by an elixir wrongly swallowed,

  Down it slips, its old guise cast off, from Elysium.

  Magnificent the spring north and south of the Yangtze;

  Bees and butterflies who doubt this—do not come!

  Li Wen

  Rhyming “flower”

  Like rich girls in spring finery competing,

  Stark boughs burst into flower.

  Still courts, winding balustrades, with no white plum;

  Stream and lonely hills glow with sunset at this hour.

  Like fairy bark on red stream floating free,

  Fluting drifts chill in the dreaming maiden’s bower.

  It must have sprung from seeds in paradise;

  Past doubting this, though changed in form the flower.

  Xue Baoqin

  They praised all these poems delightedly pointing out that the last was the best. Baoyu was amazed that Baoqin, although the youngest, had the quickest wit; and Daiyu and Xiangyun poured a small cup of wine to congratulate her.

  “All three poems have their merits,” said Baochai. “You two have grown tired of making fun of me every day, so now you’re picking on her.”

  Li Wan asked Baoyu, “Are you ready?”

  “I did concoct something,” he replied. “But their poems so overawed me that I’ve forgotten it. Let me think again.”

  Xiangyun struck her hand-stove with a copper poker. “I’m starting to ‘beat the drum,’“ she warned. “If you’re not ready by the time I stop, you’ll have to pay another forfeit.”

  “I’m ready,” he answered. “Dictate it to me.” Daiyu picked up a brush. Xiangyun struck the hand-stove, crying, “One!”

  “All right,” agreed Baoyu. “Take this down.” He declaimed:

  “Before the drinking starts, ere poems are made...”

  Daiyu shook her head as she wrote. “A nondescript opening.”

  “Hurry up!” ordered Xiangyun. He continued:

  “He goes to the Fairy Isles in search of spring, asking a boon.”

  Daiyu and Xiangyun nodded. “That’s more like it.” He proceeded:

  “Not in quest of dew from the Bodhisattva’s kundi,

  But to beg a plum branch by the fence of the Goddess of the Moon.”

  Once more Daiyu shook her head as she wrote this down. “Too arty.”

  Xiangyun hastily struck the stove again. Baoyu went on:

  “He returns to earth with a load of cold red snow,

  A fragrant cloud cut far from the dusty world;

  Its forked boughs resting on the poet’s slim shoulders,

  His clothes by moss from the nunnery still purled.”

  When Daiyu had finished writing this out and the others were discussing it, some maids ran in to announce: “The old lady’s coming!”

  All hurried out to meet her, commenting, “What a good mood she must be in!”

  She could be seen in the distance wearing a big cape with a grey squirrel-fur hood, seated in a small bamboo sedan-chair sheltered by a black silk umbrella, and surrounded by her maids, each holding an umbrella. Li Wan and the young people were hastening to meet them when the Lady Dowager sent word that they should stay where they were.

  Upon reaching them she announced, “I’ve given Lady Wang and Xifeng the slip. Though the snow lies so deep, I’m all right in this chair; but I didn’t want them to come traipsing through the snow.”

  Calling out greetings, they pressed forward to take her cape and help her out of the chair.

  Her first remark on entering the room was, “What beautiful plum-blossom! You certainly know how to enjoy yourselves. I’ve come at the right time.”

  Li Wan had already ordered maids to spread a big wolf-skin rug in the middle of the kang for the old lady.

  “Go on with your fun, and don’t stop eating or drinking,” she said when she had sat down on the rug. “Now that the days are shorter I’ve given up taking a nap after lunch. I was playing cards when I suddenly thought of you, so I came to join in your fun.”

  By now Li Wan had passed her a hand-stove, and Tanchun brought over clean chopsticks and a cup and poured some warm wine for her.

  The old lady took a sip.

  “What’s on that plate there?” she asked.

  They brought it over and told her, “Quails cured in wine.”

  “That will do nicely,” she said. “Pull off some bits of the leg meat for me.”

  Li Wan assented and did so, after first calling for water to wash her hands.

  “Just sit down as you were and go on chatting,” urged the old lady. “I like listening.” She told Li Wan, “You must sit down too as if I weren’t here, or else I shall go away.”

  All resumed their seats then, except Li Wan, who moved to the lowest place.

  “What were you doing?” the Lady Dowager asked. When informed that they had been writing poems she said, “You’d do better to make up some lantern riddles for all of us to enjoy after New Year.”

  They agreed to this.

  After some more conversation she remarked, “It’s damp here. You mustn’t stay too long or you may catch cold. Xichun’s place is warmer than this. Let’s go and see how she’s getting on with her painting, and whether it will be ready by New Year.”
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  “By New Year?” they exclaimed. “Not likely! It probably won’t be ready till the Dragon-Boat Festival.”

  “Well. I never! Is it going to take her longer to paint the Garden than it took the workmen to build it?”

  She mounted her chair again then, and the whole party accompanied her past Scented Lotus Pavilion and along a covered walk with at either end an archway, both sides of which were inset with stone tablets. They passed through the western arch, which on its outer side bore the inscription “Through the Clouds, “on the inner side “Across the Moon,” and entered Xichun’s compound by the front northern gate. By the time the Lady Dowager alighted, Xichun had come out to meet her and lead them all along the verandah to her bedroom. Above its door was the inscription “Warm Scented Arbour,” and perfumed air struck warm on their cheeks as attendants lifted the red felt portiere. As soon as they were inside, before even sitting down, the Lady Dowager asked to see Xichun’s painting.

  Xichun explained that it was difficult to mix colours in such cold weather, as they congealed. “I was afraid of spoiling it, so I’ve put it away,” she concluded.

  “I want it for New Year, so don’t be lazy!” teased the old lady. “You must fetch it out at once and go on with it.”

  As she was speaking, Xifeng, in a purple woollen gown, made a smiling entrance.

  “What a dance you’ve led me, Old Ancestress!” she cried. “Coming here without a word to anyone.”

  The Lady Dowager was pleased to see her.

  “I didn’t want you to come out in the cold; that’s why I wouldn’t let them tell you,” she replied. “You’re an artful puss to have found me after all. There’s no need to show your dutifulness in this way.”

  “I didn’t come out of any sense of duty,” countered Xifeng laughingly. “When I found your place so quiet and questioned the maids, they wouldn’t tell me where you were. Just suggested I try the Garden. I was puzzling over this when a few nuns turned up. I realized they must have come with an alms list, or to make their annual requests for donations or incense money. So many people apply to our Old Ancestress just before New Year, I knew you’d run away to avoid being dunned. Now I’ve come to report to our Old Ancestress: Your duns have gone, you can come out of hiding. I’ve some very tender pheasant ready. So please come back for dinner. If you leave it any later, it’ll be overcooked.”

  Amid the general merriment that followed, and before the old lady could make any retort, Xifeng ordered her sedan-chair. The Lady Dowager mounted it with Xifeng’s help, in smiling acquiescence, and was carried through the east gate of the covered walk, chatting with the rest of the party.

  All about lay snow, soft as powder, bright as silver. And suddenly, at the top of a slope, they saw Baoqin in the cape of wild ducks’ down, with a maid behind her carrying a vase of red plum-blossom.

  “So there she is!” they cried laughingly. “No wonder two people were missing. She’s got herself some plum-blossom as well.”

  “Just look!” exclaimed the old lady in delight. “This snowy slope matched with a girl like her, in that costume too, and with plum-blossom in the background—what does it remind you of?”

  “It’s like Qiu Ying’s painting The Beauty in Snow which hangs in your room, madam,” some of them answered.

  The Lady Dowager shook her head.

  “No, the girl in that painting hasn’t a costume like hers, and she isn’t a patch on Baoqin for looks, either.”

  Even as she spoke, someone in a red felt cape stepped out from behind Baoqin.

  “Which of the girls is that?” asked the old lady.

  “All the girls are here,” they told her. “That’s Baoyu.”

  “My eyes are failing,” she sighed.

  While talking they had drawn level with Baoyu and Baoqin.

  Smiling, Baoyu told Baochai, Daiyu and the rest, “Just now I went back to Green Lattice Nunnery, and Miaoyu’s given you each a spray of plum-blossom. They’ve already been sent to your rooms.”

  As they thanked him for going to such trouble, they left the Garden and made their way to the Lady Dowager’s quarters. They were chatting there after dinner when Aunt Xue arrived.

  “I haven’t come over to see you all day because of this heavy snow,” she told the old lady. “Axe you in low spirits, madam? You should have gone out to enjoy the snowy landscape.”

  “What makes you think I’m feeling low? I went out and amused myself for a while with the girls.”

  “Last night I was thinking of asking my sister for the use of the Garden for one day, to invite you to a simple meal so as to enjoy the snow. But I found you’d gone to bed early, and as Baochai told me you weren’t feeling too well I didn’t like to bother you. If I’d known, I should have invited you.”

  “It’s only the tenth month, and this is the first fall of snow this winter,” rejoined the old lady. “You’ll have plenty of chances to treat us later on.

  “I hope so,” said Aunt Xue. “That will give me an opportunity to show my respect.”

  “Mind you don’t forget, aunt!” cried Xifeng playfully. “Why not weigh out fifty taels of silver now and give it to me to keep? Then as soon as it snows again, I’ll prepare the feast. That’ll save you trouble and the danger of forgetting.”

  The Lady Dowager chuckled.

  “Yes, just give her fifty taels,” she said to Aunt Xue, “and we’ll take half each. When it snows, I’ll excuse myself on the pretext of illness, so as to save you trouble, while Xifeng and I reap all the benefit.”

  Xifeng clapped her hands. “Excellent! Just what I was thinking.”

  General laughter greeted this sally.

  “Bah! For shame!” exclaimed the Lady Dowager. “You’ve always got an eye to the main chance. Aunt Xue is our guest and it’s we who should be inviting her, instead of neglecting her so badly. How can we let her spend money on us? Yet instead of issuing an invitation, you have the nerve to ask for fifty taels. You’ve no sense of shame at all.”

  “No one’s as shrewd as our Old Ancestress,” commented Xifeng. “She was just sounding you out, aunt. If you’d really forked up fifty taels, she’d have gone halves with me. Now that her scheme doesn’t look like coming off, she turns around to shift the blame to me, talking in that high-minded way. All right then, instead of asking Aunt Xue for money, I’ll let her treat the old lady at my expense; and I’ll offer our Old Ancestress another packet of fifty taels to make up for my officiousness. How’s that?”

  By this time all the others were prostrate with laughter.

  The Lady Dowager then reiterated that Baoqin, with the plum-blossom in the snow, had looked prettier than a picture. She asked her age as well as the hour, day and month of her birth, and wanted to know all about her family. Aunt Xue guessed that she wished to arrange a match between Baoqin and Baoyu, and she would have been quite willing had the girl not been promised already to a son of the Mei family. But as the old lady had made no direct proposal, she could not say so outright. She answered therefore in a roundabout way:

  “It’s a pity this poor child has had no luck. Before her father died two years ago, she saw a good deal of the world and travelled to all sorts of beauty spots with her parents. Her father knew how to enjoy life. And as he owned shops everywhere, he used to take his family to stay in different provinces for several months or a year at a time, until they’d visited more than half the country. Last time he was here he betrothed her to Academician Mei’s son; but the year after that he died. And now her mother is a victim to asthma....”

  She was interrupted at this point by Xifeng, who heaved a long sigh.

  “Too bad!” she exclaimed. “I was on the point of proposing a match for her, but she’s already engaged.”

  “Whom were you going to propose?” asked the old lady with a smile.

  “Never you mind, Old Ancestress. I was convinced they’d make an ideal couple. But as she’s engaged it’s no use bringing it up. I’d better hold my tongue.”

  The
Lady Dowager knew very well whom Xifeng had in mind, but in view of Baoqin’s engagement she said ho more. After a little more chat they party broke up, and the night passed without further incident.

  The next morning the sky had cleared. After breakfast the old lady told Xichun, “Never mind the weather but get on with your painting, and try to finish it before New Year. Of course, if you really can’t, it doesn’t matter. The main thing is to lose no time in painting in Baoqin and her maid with the plum-blossom, just the way they looked yesterday.”

  This was a tall order, but Xichun had to agree. When the others went to see how she was getting on, they found her lost in thought.

  “We can chat while she’s thinking,” Li Wan told the rest. “Yesterday the old lady asked us to make up some lantern riddles; so when I went home with Qi and Wen, and we couldn’t sleep, I made up two using quotations from the Four Books, and they thought up two each as well.”

  “Yes, we ought to get to work on those riddles,” the others agreed. “Let’s hear yours first and see if we can guess the answers.”

  “‘Guanyin (Goddess of Mercy) lacks a chronicle,’“ said Li Wan. “The answer should be a line from the Four Books.”

  Xiangyun promptly guessed, “‘The end is supreme goodness.’“

  Baochai smiled. “First think about ‘chronicle.’“

  “Try again,” urged Li Wan.

  “I’ll make a guess,” said Daiyu. “Is it ‘though good there is no documentation’?”

  “That must be right,” cried the others.

  Li Wan continued, “‘A poolful of plants—what are they?’“

  “‘Just flags and reeds,’“ responded Xiangyun promptly. “I must be right this time.”

  “Yes, good for you,” said Li Wan. “Here is Wen’s riddle: “The water flows cold by the rocks.’ And the answer is the name of a man of old.”

  “Shan Tao?” asked Tanchun. “That’s right,” said Li Wen.