A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  So Zhou Rui and Qian Qi led the horse to the side gate. And, sure enough, as they were talking they ran into Lai Da. Baoyu promptly pulled up to dismount, but the chief steward hurried forward and clasped his knee. Baoyu stood up in his stirrups and, taking him by the hand, exchanged greetings with him. Then a page came in at the head of a couple of dozen men with brooms and dustpans. These lined up respectfully by the wall at the sight of their young master, while the page knelt on one knee and paid his respects. Baoyu, not knowing his name, simply smiled and nodded. Not until he had ridden past did the men move on.

  Then Baoyu and his party passed through the side gate, where some grooms and the boys under the six stewards had some dozen horses ready. Once outside the gate, Li Gui and the rest mounted these horses. Then the whole troop, escorting Baoyu on all sides, galloped off.

  But let us return to Qingwen, who was worried because the medicine had done her no good and now started abusing the doctor.

  “He’s nothing but a swindler and quack,” she complained. “His medicine’s no use at all.”

  “You must have patience,” urged Sheyue. “Haven’t you heard the saying: illness comes as fast as a wall falling down, but goes as slowly as unravelling a cocoon’? He’s no Lao Jun with a magic elixir to cure you overnight. Just rest quietly for a few days and you’ll be all right. The more impatient you are, the worse for you.”

  Qingwen switched then to lashing out at the younger girls.

  “Where have they all buried themselves?” she scolded. “They take advantage of my illness to make off, bold as brass! I’m going to flay each one of them for this when I’m better.”

  This so frightened Zhuaner, one of the younger maids, that she hurried in to ask, “Is there anything you want, miss?”

  “Are the others all dead?” demanded Qingwen. “Are you the only one left?”

  At this, Zhuier sidled in.

  “Look at that little bitch!” cried Qingwen. “She won’t come unless asked for. But on pay-day or when sweets are shared out, she’s always the first to come running. Come over here! Am I a tiger? Are you afraid I’ll eat you?”

  Zhuier had to come closer. Then Qingwen, lunging forward, grabbed one of her hands and began jabbing it with a hairpin from under her pillow.

  “What use is this claw?” she swore. “It won’t hold a needle or thread, all it’s good for is stealing. You with your avid eyes and itching palms, you’re the bane of our lives and a disgrace to us all— I’ll carve you up!”

  Zhuier screamed with pain until Sheyue pulled her away and made Qingwen lie down again.

  “You’ll catch your death after that sweat you were in,” she scolded. “Once you’re better you can beat her as much as you like. Why raise this rumpus now?”

  But Qingwen ordered someone to fetch Nanny Song and when she arrived informed her, “Master Bao has told me to tell you that Zhuier’s too lazy. When he gives her a job to do she refuses to stir; and when Xiren asks her to do anything, she even curses her behind her back. She must be sent packing today, and tomorrow he’ll report it himself to the mistress.”

  Nanny Song knew at once that this was because of the bracelet.

  “Even so,” she said with a smile, “we’d better wait till Miss Xiren comes back before dismissing her.”

  “Master Bao was most emphatic,” insisted Qingwen. “Never mind about this ‘Miss’ or that ‘Miss,’ we’ll answer to her. Just do as I say. Tell her family to come and take her away.”

  “You may as well,” put in Sheyue. “She’ll have to go sooner or later. The sooner she goes, the sooner we’ll have some peace.”

  So Nanny Song had to fetch Zhuier’s mother. And when they had packed up her things, the woman came in to see Qingwen and Sheyue.

  “What’s this I hear?” she protested. “If my girl misbehaves, why can’t you teach her a lesson instead of throwing her out? At least leave us a little face.”

  “Save that talk for Baoyu,” snapped Qingwen. “This has nothing to do with us.”

  “Ask him?” The woman snorted. “He does just what you young ladies tell him, doesn’t he? Even if he were willing to keep her, you wouldn’t let him. Why, just now, even though you were talking behind his back, you referred to him by name. That may be all right for the likes of you, but in our case it would be thought most ill-bred.”

  “So I called him by his name, did I?” Qingwen flushed with anger. “All right, go and report me to the old lady. Tell her I’ve run wild and have me thrown out too.”

  “Just take your daughter and go, sister,” put in Sheyue. “You can have your say about it some other time. This is no place for you to bicker and wrangle. Have you ever seen anyone wrangling with us here? Even Mrs. Lai and Mrs. Lin have to treat us with some respect, not to say you.

  “As for using his name, we’ve done that since he was a child, as well you know, on the old lady’s orders. Didn’t they have his name written out and posted up everywhere so that everybody would use it, for fear that otherwise he might die young? Why, even water-carriers, night-soil collectors and beggars use it, not to say us. Only the other day, Mrs. Lin was taken to task by the old lady for calling him ‘young master.’ That’s the first point.

  “The second is that since we’re always in and out reporting things to the old lady and the mistress, we obviously can’t refer to him as ‘master.’ We must use the name Baoyu a couple of hundred times a day; so it’s strange that you should choose this to pick fault. Some day when you have time, you can listen to us using his name to the old lady and Lady Wang; then you’ll understand. But of course, it’s not to be wondered at that you don’t know the rules in the inner apartments, since you don’t have any important business that would take you near the ladies of the house—you’re mucking about outside the gate all the time.

  “And this is no place for you to hang about. If you do, people will be coming to ask you the reason, even if we don’t say anything ourselves. So first take your girl away. If you’re not satisfied, you can complain to Mrs. Lin and ask her to speak to Master Bao about it. There are nearly a thousand people in this household. If you come one day and others the next, how are we to recognize who’s who? We can’t have everyone running in and out here.”

  She ordered one of the young maids to fetch a cloth and wipe the floor.

  Zhuier’s mother was silenced then and dared stay no longer. Swallowing her anger, she started out with her daughter.

  “You really have no manners,” expostulated Nanny Song. “After working here all this time, your daughter should surely kowtow to the young ladies before she leaves. Presents they don’t expect, but she should at least kowtow to express her thanks. How can you just walk off?”

  At this, Zhuier had to come in again and kowtow to Sheyue and Qingwen, then to Qiuwen and the others. They all ignored her. Her mother, thoroughly discomfited and too cowed to say another word, went off in high indignation.

  Qingwen had caught another slight chill, and this no top of her anger made her feel even more poorly. She tossed about restlessly and did not quiet down until lighting-up time when Baoyu came back, sighing and stamping his feet. Sheyue asked him what was the matter.

  “Today the old lady was in a good mood and gave me this cape,” he explained. “But somehow I carelessly burned a hole in the back. Luckily it was too dark just now for my grandmother or mother to notice it.”

  He took the cape off and Sheyue inspected the damage. There was a hole the size of a finger-tip.

  “This must have been done by a spark from a hand-stove,” She commented. “It’s nothing. We’ll smuggle it out at once for some skilled weaver to patch.” She wrapped up the cape and told an old serving-woman to take it out. “See that it’s done by tomorrow morning,” She ordered. “And be sure not to let the old lady or mistress know.”

  The woman assented and went off, returning some time later with the cape.

  “I tried not only weavers and the best tailors but embroiders and sewing-women too,” s
he said. “But as they’d never seen anything like this before, none of them dared take on the job.”

  “What’s to be done then?” wondered Sheyue. “I suppose you needn’t wear it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is the birthday proper,” objected Baoyu. “The old lady and my mother expressly told me to wear it when I go. But the day before I burn it. What a bad show!”

  Qingwen, who had been following the conversation, could no longer keep silence and now sat up in bed.

  “Let me see it,” she called. “Maybe it’s not in your stars to wear this cape. Look at the state you’re in.”

  “You’re right,” said Baoyu, smiling.

  He handed the cape to Qingwen and took her the lamp.

  “This is made of peacock feathers and gold thread,” she observed after examining it carefully. “If we darn it with the same material it should pass.”

  “We’ve peacock feathers and thread,” said Sheyue. “But you’re the only one here who can do that type of darning.”

  “There’s no help for it then but to try my best, I suppose.”

  “How can you?” Baoyu demurred. “You mustn’t start working the moment you’re a bit better.”

  “Don’t fuss,” she retorted. “I know what I can do.”

  With that she sat up to knot up her hair and put on some clothes. At once she felt so dizzy that stars began dancing before her eyes and she was afraid she would collapse; but rather than worry Baoyu by giving up, she gritted her teeth and stuck it out. Having asked Sheyue to help by twisting the thread, she now took one and compared it with the cape.

  “It’s not quite the same,” she remarked. “once it’s mended, though, the difference shouldn’t show.”

  “That’s splendid,” said Baoyu. “Where would we find a Russian tailor?”

  Qingwen first unpicked the lining and slipped a bamboo embroidery-frame the size of a teacup up the back of the cape. Next she scraped away the singed edges with a knife, sewed two threads across at right angles to each other, stitched in the outline in cross-stitch, and then darned the hole to reproduce the original pattern. After a couple of stitches she would stop to examine her work, and after every four or five, feeling dizzy, breathless and faint, she would sink back on her pillow to rest for a while. Baoyu hovered over her solicitously, offering her hot water, urging her to rest, putting a squirrel cape over her shoulders and sending for a pillow for her back, until she became quite frantic.

  “Do go to bed, little ancestor!” she begged him. “If you stay up half the night again, you’ll have sunken eyes tomorrow, and that wouldn’t

  do!”

  To soothe her he had to lie down, but he could not sleep. He heard the clock strike four just as she finished her task and was fluffing up the down with a small toothbrush.

  “That’s fine!” exclaimed Sheyue. “If you don’t look closely you’d never notice it.”

  Baoyu asked to see it too.

  “It’s really as good as new,” he commented.

  Coughing after her exertions, Qingwen said, Tm afraid the mend still shows. But I can’t do any more.” She sank back with a groan of exhaustion.

  If you want to know the outcome, read the next chapter.

  Chapter 53

  Ancestral Sacrifice Is Carried Out on New Year’s Eve in the Ning Mansion

  An Evening Banquet Is Held on the Feast of Lanterns in the Rong Mansion

  Seeing that mending his peacock-feather cape had left Qingwen exhausted, Baoyu called a young maid to massage her; and barely had they rested for the time it takes for one meal before the day was light. Then Baoyu, instead of going out, ordered the doctor to be sent for at once.

  Presently Doctor Wang arrived and felt his patient’s pulse.

  “She was on the mend yesterday—what has caused this relapse today?” he asked in surprise. “Has she been over-eating or tiring herself? Her influenza is better; but after sweating she hasn’t had a proper rest. The consequences may be serious.”

  He withdrew to make out a prescription, then brought it in, and Baoyu saw that it called for fewer drugs to counteract noxious contagions but more tonics such as pachyma cocos, rehmannia and angelica.

  Baoyu ordered this medicine to be prepared at once.

  “What’s to be done?” he sighed. “If anything happens to her, it will all be my fault.”

  “Run along and mind your own business, young master,” scoffed Qingwen from her pillow. “Is it so easy to fall into a decline?”

  Baoyu had to leave her then. But he returned during the afternoon on the pretext of not feeling well. Although Qingwen’s illness was by no means light, lucidly, though hard-working she was not the worrying type, and instead of over-eating she normally kept to a simple diet. The Jia family’s cure for a cold or cough, among masters and servants alike, consisted mainly of fasting supplemented by medication. Thus as soon as Qingwen fell ill she had fasted for a couple of days and been careful to take her medicine, with the result that in spite of her exertions a few days of extra treatment set her right. And because all the girls in the Garden were eating at home now, catering for a patient was simple as Baoyu could easily ask for soup and gruel. But enough of this.

  Upon Xiren’s return after her mother’s funeral, Sheyue told her in detail of Pinger’s visit, the part played by Nanny Song, the reason for Zhuier’s dismissal by Qingwen and the fact that this had been reported to Baoyu.

  Xiren’s only comment was, “You were rather too hasty.”

  These days Li Wan also had a cold on account of the bad weather; Yingchun and Xiuyan were fully occupied attending to Lady Xing, who was suffering from an inflammation of the eyes; Aunt Li and her two daughters had been invited by her younger brother to his home for a few days; and Baoyu was worried by Xiren’s depression after her mother’s death, as well as by Qingwen’s delayed recovery. So no one was in the mood for poetry gatherings, and several of the appointed dates passed unobserved.

  It was now the twelfth month. As New Year was fast approaching, Lady Wang and Xifeng had their hands full with preparations. Wang Zheng was promoted at this time to be Chief Inspector of Nine Provinces, and Jia Yucun to the post of Minister of War, to assist with military strategy and advise on state policy. But no more of this.

  Over in the Ning Mansion Jia Zhen had the Ancestral Temple opened and swept, the sacrificial vessels prepared, the ancestral tablets put in place, and the north hall cleaned in readiness for displaying the ancestral portraits. High and low alike in both mansions were kept hard at work.

  One morning in the Ning Mansion, Madam You and her daughter-in-law were preparing embroidery and other gifts for those in the other mansion When a maid came in with a trayful of gold New-Year ingots.

  “Xinger reports that that packet of loose gold of a mixed quality the other day amounted to a hundred and fifty-three taels and sixty-seven cents, madam,” she announced. “It’s made two hundred and twenty ingots in all.”

  She presented them for inspection and her mistress saw that they were of different shapes: plum-blossom, crab-apple-blossom, a writing-brush and an ellipsoid signifying “All Wishes Granted,” and “The Eight Treasures of Spring.”

  Having ordered these to be put away, Madam You sent to tell Xinger to hand in the silver ingots without delay. The maid had not been gone long on this errand when Jia Zhen came in for his meal, and his daughter-in-law slipped away.

  Jia Zhen asked his wife, “Have we fetched the Imperial Bounty yet for the spring sacrifice?”

  “I sent Rong for it today,” was her reply.

  “Of course, our family doesn’t depend on these few taels,” observed her husband. “Still they are a mark of the Imperial favour. We should collect this silver early to show the old lady in the other mansion before using it to prepare the ancestral sacrifice; for this is evidence that we are honoured by the Emperor’s favour and benefit from the good fortune of our forbears. Even if we spent ten thousand taels on this sacrifice, it would convey less distinction than the us
e of this bounty so graciously conferred. Indeed, apart from one or two houses like ours, most poor families of hereditary officials have to rely on this silver for their New-Year sacrifice. Such consideration is truly a sign of the infinite gracious-ness of the Emperor.”

  “Exactly what I feel,” agreed his wife.

  Just then a servant announced their son’s return, and Jia Zhen ordered him to be admitted. Jia Rong came in, carrying in both hands a small yellow bag.

  “Why have you been so long?” demanded his father.

  Jia Rong answered with a smile, “I had to go to the Office of Imperial Banquets for the bounty, as it isn’t issued by the Ministry of Rites nowadays. All in that office asked after you, sir, and said they hadn’t seen you for a long time but were constantly thinking of you.”

  “It’s not me they’re thinking of,” laughed his father. “Now that New Year’s coming, it’s presents they want from me or an invitation to a banquet and opera.”

  While speaking he examined the yellow bag, which was stamped with the four-word inscription: “Eternal Imperial Favour Granted” and the seal of the Sacrificial Department of the Ministry of Rites. In smaller characters was written: “Two gratuities for the Spring Sacrifice are conferred by the Emperor in perpetuity upon Jia Yan, Duke of Ningguo, and Jia Yuan, Duke of Rongguo.” The amount and date were specified, together with the name of the recipient Jia Rong, Captain of the Imperial Guard Reserve, while the officer in charge had signed his name in vermilion.

  After his meal, Jia Zhen washed and rinsed his mouth, then put on his boots and hat to go, accompanied by his son with the silver, to inform the Lady Dowager and Lady Wang and after them Jia She and Lady Xing that the bounty had been collected. This done, he returned home and took out the silver, ordering the bag to be burned in the large incense-burner in the Ancestral Temple.

  After this he told his son, “Go and ask your Second Aunt whether they’ve fixed on dates or not for their New-Year feasts in the first month. If they have, get the secretaries to write out a detailed list so that our invitations don’t clash. Last year we were careless enough to invite several families on the same day, and instead of attributing it to negligence they imagined we’d done it deliberately—to make an empty gesture at no trouble to ourselves.”