A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  Sheyue and Qiuwen had stopped and averted their faces.

  “Don’t undo your pants till you’ve squatted down,” they cried, “or you may catch a chill on your stomach!”

  When the two younger maids behind knew what he was up to, they hurried to the room where tea was made to get hot water.

  As Baoyu was about to rejoin the others, two of the servants’ wives approached.

  “Who’s that?” they called.

  “It’s Baoyu,” replied Qiuwen. “Don’t shout like that or you may startle him.”

  “Sorry, we didn’t know,” said the women with a smile. “So we’ve caused you trouble on this festival. You must all be very busy, miss, these days.”

  As they had drawn level now, Sheyue asked them what they were carrying.

  “Some cakes and fruit from the old lady for Miss Jin and Miss Hua.”

  “They’re playing The Eight Gallants over there, not The Magic Box,” quipped Qiuwen. “So where does this Goddess Jinhua come from?”

  Baoyu made Qiuwen and Sheyue open the hampers, and as they did so the two women squatted down. Seeing some of the choicest fruits, sweetmeats, cakes and dishes from the feast there, he nodded and moved on. The two girls hastily closed the hampers and followed.

  “Those are friendly, tactful women,” remarked Baoyu cheerfully. “They’ll be tired out themselves these days, but they said how busy you must be. They’re not boastful show-offs.”

  “Those two are all right,” rejoined Sheyue. “Some of the others really have no manners.”

  “You’re intelligent girls,” he said. “You should make allowances for those poor coarse creatures.”

  By now he had approached the Garden gate. The nurses, who had been looking out for him while drinking and gaming, tagged after him as soon as he reappeared and followed him to the corridor behind the feasting hall in the small garden. There the two young maids had been waiting for some time, one holding a basin, the other a towel and a small flask of ointment.

  Qiuwen dipped her fingers in the basin.

  “How careless you’re growing,” she scolded. “Fancy bringing such cold water!”

  “It’s the fault of the weather, miss,” explained the girl. “I took boiling water for fear it might get cold; but it’s cooled off all the same.”

  Just then, as luck would have it, up came a nurse with a kettle of boiling water.

  “Please give me some of that, granny,” begged the girl.

  “This is to make tea for the old lady,” retorted the nurse. “Fetch some for yourself, lass. It won’t hurt you to walk a few steps.”

  “Never mind who it’s for,” put in Qiuwen. “If you won’t give us any, I’ll pour water from the old lady’s teapot to wash in.”

  When the woman saw it was Qiuwen, she hastily poured them some water.

  “That’s enough,” said Qiuwen. “At your age you should have more sense. As if we didn’t know this was for the old lady! But why do you think we asked?”

  The nurse smiled and apologized, “My eyes are so dim I didn’t see who it was, miss.”

  When Baoyu had washed his hands, the girl with the flask poured some ointment over them which he rubbed in. Then Qiuwen and Sheyue, having rinsed their hands in the hot water and rubbed on ointment too, escorted him back to the hall.

  Baoyu now called for a pot of warm wine to toast Aunt Li and Aunt Xue, who both begged him to be seated.

  “Let the boy fill your cups,” said the Lady Dowager. “And mind you empty them.”

  She drained her own cup then. And when Lady Xing and Lady Wang followed suit, Aunt Xue and Aunt Li had to drink up too.

  “Fill your cousins’ cups,” the old lady told Baoyu. “See that you do it properly and make them all drink up.”

  Baoyu assented and filled every cup in turn. When he came to Daiyu she refused to drink but held the cup up to his lips, thanking him with a smile when he tossed it off. He poured her another cup.

  “Don’t drink cold wine, Baoyu,” warned Xifeng. “If you do, your hands will tremble too much to write or draw your bow later on.”

  “I haven’t drunk any cold wine,” he protested.

  “I know. I’m just warning you.”

  Having filled all the cups except that of Jia Rong’s wife, whose cup was filled by a maid, he went out to the corridor to toast Jia Zhen and the other men and kept them company for a while before returning to his seat inside.

  Presently soup was served, followed by New-Year dumplings.

  “Tell the actresses to rest now,” said the Lady Dowager. “Those poor children must have some hot soup and hot food before they go on.” She ordered sweetmeats of every kind to be taken to the actresses.

  Now that the performance had stopped, one of the matrons brought in two women story-tellers who often visited the house, putting stools for them at one side. They were told to sit down and handed a fiddle and a lute. Then the Lady Dowager asked Aunt Li and Aunt Xue what they would like to hear.

  “Anything will do,” they answered.

  She asked the two women what new stories they had.

  “One about the end of the Tang Dynasty and the Five dynasties,” they replied.

  “What is its name?”

  “The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate.”

  “That’s a good title,” she remarked. “Why is it called that? Let’s hear what it’s about, and if it sounds good you can tell it.”

  “It’s about a country gentleman named Wang Zhong at the end of the Tang Dynasty,” said one of the women. “His family came from Jinling. After serving as a minister under two emperors, he retired in his old age. He had an only son called Wang Xifeng.” The whole party laughed at that.

  “The same name as our minx Xifeng,” chuckled the old lady.

  Some serving-women nudged the story-tellers.

  “That’s our Second Mistress’ name. Be careful,” they warned.

  “Never mind. Go on,” said the Lady Dowager.

  The story-tellers rose to apologize.

  “We deserve to drop dead. We didn’t know it was Her Ladyship’s honourable name.”

  “What does that matter?” asked Xifeng cheerfully. “Plenty of people have the same name. Go on.”

  Then one of the women continued, “One year, old Mr. Wang sent his son to take the examination in the capital. Running into heavy rain on the way he took shelter in a village where, as it happened, there lived a gentleman named Li, an old family friend of Mr. Wang’s, who put the young man up in his study. This Mr. Li had no son, only one daughter Chuluan who was thoroughly accomplished in lyre-playing, chess, calligraphy and painting...”

  “I understand the title now,” interposed the old lady. “You needn’t go on. I can guess the rest. Naturally Wang Xifeng wants to marry this Miss Chuluan.”

  “So you’ve heard this story before, Old Ancestress.” The story-teller smiled.

  The others explained, “The old lady can guess the ending, even if she hasn’t heard the story before.”

  “There’s a sameness about all these tales,” complained the old lady. “And they’re so stereotyped—all about talented scholars and lovely ladies. Fancy describing girls who behave so badly as fine young ladies! Why, they’re nothing of the sort. They’re always introduced as girls from cultured families whose fathers are invariably high officials or prime ministers. In that case, an only daughter would be treasured and brought up as a real fine young lady, well-versed in literature and a model of propriety; yet her first glimpse of a handsome man, whether a relative or family friend, sets her thoughts running on marriage. She forgets her parents then and gets up to all sorts of devilry, behaving quite unlike a fine lady. If she carries on like that she’s surely no lady, no matter how her head is crammed with learning. If a man whose head is crammed with learning becomes a thief, does the court spare him on account of his talents? So these story-tellers contradict themselves.

  “Besides, not only would the daughter of a good scholar-official family be well-edu
cated and a model of propriety—so would her mother. And even if her father had retired, a big family like that would have plenty of nurses and maids to look after the girl. How is it that in all these stories, when such things happen, no one has any inkling of it except the girl herself and one trusted maid? What are all the others doing, I’d like to know? Isn’t that contradictory?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “The old lady’s shown up their lies!”

  “There’s a reason for this,” she continued. “Either the people who spin these tales envy the rank and riches of other families, or ask for help which isn’t granted, and so they make up these stories to discredit them. Or else they’re so bewitched by reading such tales that they wish they could get a fine young lady themselves, and so they invent these things for their own amusement.

  “But what do they know about the ways of scholar-official families? Let’s not talk about those great families in their stories— even in a middle-rank family like ours such things couldn’t possibly happen. They’re talking utter nonsense! That’s why we never allow such stories here, and our girls have never heard any. Now that I’m growing old and the girls’ apartments are some distance away, I may listen to a tale or two to pass the time; but as soon as the girls come I put a stop to it.”

  “That’s the rule for a good family, madam,” approved Aunt Li and Aunt Xue. “Even in our homes we don’t let the children hear such frivolous nonsense.”

  Xifeng stepped forward then to pour more wine. “That’s enough,” she cried. “The wine’s cold but you’d better take a sip, Old Ancestress, to wet your gullet before debunking their lies. This is a story called Debunking Lies which is happening in this reign, here and now, in this year, month, day and hour. Our Old Ancestress, with only one mouth, can hardly speak for two families at once. As two blooms grow on separate boughs, let’s deal with one first. Never mind whether true or false, let’s go back to enjoying the lanterns and opera. Just allow these two relatives to have a cup of wine and enjoy two more scenes of the show. After that you can go on debunking stories, starting with those of the very first dynasty down to the present one—how about it?”

  She had filled everyone’s cup, chuckling as she spoke, and by now the whole company was prostrate with laughter. The two story-tellers as well were in fits of mirth.

  “What a tongue Her Ladyship has!” they cried. “If she started telling stories she’s soon do us out of a job.”

  “Don’t get too carried away,” cautioned Aunt Xue. “The gentlemen are outside, this isn’t like ordinary times.”

  “There’s only cousin Zhen,” retorted Xifeng. “We’ve been like brother and sister since we were small and played naughty tricks together. Since my marriage, of course, I’ve behaved much more correctly. But even if we hadn’t played together as children and were only in-laws, isn’t there a story in The Twenty-four Acts of Filial Piety about someone dressing in motley and clowning to amuse his parents? They can’t come and amuse our Old Ancestress, so if I manage to make her laugh and eat a little more, keeping everybody happy, you should all thank me instead of laughing at me.”

  “It’s true that I haven’t had a good laugh for the last couple of days,” said the Lady Dowager. “Now that she’s raised my spirits by her antics I’ll have another cup of wine,” sipping her drink, she told Baoyu to offer Xifeng a toast.

  “I don’t need him,” declared Xifeng laughingly. “I’ll cash in on some of your good fortune, madam.”

  She took the old lady’s cup and drank what was left, then handed the cup to a maid and took another from a basin of hot water. All the cups on the tables were changed then for fresh ones from the basin, and when more wine had been poured they resumed their seats.

  “If our Old Ancestress doesn’t want to hear this story, shall we play a tune?” asked one of the story-tellers.

  “Yes, play The General’s Command,” ordered the old lady.

  The two women tuned their instruments and played until the Lady Dowager asked the time. On being told that it was the third watch, she observed:

  “No wonder it’s growing so chilly.”

  Some young maids had already brought warmer clothes.

  Now Lady Wang rose to ask, “Why not move to the lobby with the heated floor, madam? Our two relatives needn’t be treated like outsiders. We’ll keep them company for you.”

  “In that case why don’t we all move inside?” countered the old lady. “That would be cosier.”

  “There may not be room for us all,” demurred Lady Wang.

  “I know what. Instead of using all these tables, we’ll just join two or three together so that we can sit side by side, cosy and snug.”

  They all liked this idea and rose from their seats. The servants hastily cleared the feast away, put three large tables together in the lobby, and brought in more refreshments.

  “Don’t stand on ceremony, anyone,” said the old lady when all was ready. “Just sit where I tell you.”

  She made Aunt Xue and Aunt Li take the seats of honour on the north side and took an east seat herself with Baoqin, Daiyu and Xiangyun beside her. Baoyu, told to sit by his mother, found a place between her and Lady Xing. Baochai and the other girls sat on the west side, Madam Lou and her son Jia Jun came next, then Jia Lan between Madam You and Li Wan, and Jia Rong’s wife on the south side.

  The Lady Dowager now sent word to Jia Zhen, “You can take your brothers away, I shall soon be retiring.”

  At once all the men came in to take their leave.

  “Go along,” said the old lady. “No need to come in. We’ve just sat down and don’t want to stand up again. Go and rest now; tomorrow will be a busy day.”

  “Very good, madam,” replied Jia Zhen. “But at least let us leave Jung here to serve you wine.”

  “That’s right,” she agreed. “I’d forgotten him.”

  With a word of assent Jia Zhen turned to lead Jia Lian and the others out and, having told servants to see Jia Cong and Jia Huang home, the two of them went off cheerfully to enjoy the company of some singsong girls. But no more of this.

  Meanwhile the Lady Dowager remarked with a smile, “I was just thinking that to make our pleasure complete we ought to have a married couple here. I’d forgotten Rong. Now with him here we’ve nothing missing. Sit next to your wife, Rong, and we shall have a married pair.”

  Some matrons announced that another opera was starting.

  “We women folk are just having a pleasant chat,” said the old lady. “We don’t want any more noise. It’s so late, those child-actresses must be freezing. Let them rest a while. Go and fetch our girl-actresses here to put on a couple of items on this stage. The troupe from outside can watch.”

  The women hurried off to send a messenger to Grand View Garden with instructions for the pages at the inner gate. These boys went straight to the changing room to escort all the grown people in the company out, leaving only the young performers. Then the instructor from Pear Fragrance Court brought Wenguan and the eleven other girl actresses out through the side gate of the corridor, accompanied by some women carrying bundles. Since there was no time to bring all their stage properties, they had chosen only the costumes for a few operas which they judged the old lady might like. The women led the actresses inside, and when they had paid their respects they stood there at respectful attention.

  “It’s the first month of the year, why didn’t your instructor let you out to enjoy yourselves?” asked the old lady. “What have you been rehearsing lately? The eight scenes from The Eight Gallants were so noisy that they’ve made my head ache. Let’s have something quieter. Look, Madam Xue and Madam Li here both have opera troupes at home; they’ve seen countless good performances, and their young ladies have watched better operas and heard better singing than ours. These young actresses we’ve hired today are from troupes trained by well-known families of opera connoisseurs, better than many older companies, for all that they’re only children. We mustn’t make a poor showing today, so
let’s try something new. Fangguan shall sing us ‘Seeking the Dream’ with no accompaniment but a two-string fiddle and a flute.”

  “Very good,” replied Wenguan with a smile. “Our performance can’t possibly measure up to the standard to which these ladies are accustomed. They can only judge of our delivery and voices.”

  “That’s it,” said the old lady.

  “What a clever child!” exclaimed Aunt Li and Aunt Xue. “You’re helping the old lady to make fun of us.”

  “We just put on shows for fun here, we’re not professionals; that’s why you won’t find us following the usual fashion,” said the Lady Dowager. She then told Kuiguan, “Sing that aria ‘Huiming Delivers a Letter’ and don’t trouble to make up. Just sing a couple of scenes to amuse these ladies with our amateur style. But mind you do your best.”

  Wenguan and the others assented and withdrew to change their clothes. First they staged “Seeking the Dream,” then “The Letter Is Delivered.” All listened in absolute silence.

  “It isn’t easy for her. I’ve seen truly hundreds of companies perform, but never heard an accompaniment of only flutes,” observed Aunt Xue presently.

  “There have been cases,” the Lady Dowager told her. “For instance that melody in The Western Bower ‘Longing by the Chu River’ is often sung to a flute accompaniment by the young male actor. It is rare, though, to have a whole scene like this. It just depends on one’s taste. This is nothing unusual.” Pointing at Xiangyun she added, “When I was her age, her grandfather had an opera troupe in which someone performed real lyre music when they played ‘Listening to the Lyre’ from The Western Chamber, ‘Seduction by the Lyre’ in The Romance of the Jade Hairpin and ‘Eighteen Songs to the Hunnish Pipe’ in The Lute Player’s Return. What do you think of that?”

  All admitted that such a thing was even rarer. Then the old lady told servants to order Wenguan and her troupe to play with lute and flute Full Moon at the Lantern Festival, and they went off to carry out her instructions.

  At this point Jia Rong and his wife offered toasts all round. The Lady Dowager was now in such high spirits that Xifeng suggested, “While the story-tellers are here, why don’t we get them to drum for us while we pass round a spray of plum-blossom and play ‘Spring Lights Up the Eyebrows’?”