A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  Seeing that the Lady Dowager had closed her eyes, she broke off and with Lady Wang softly asked if she was awake. The old lady opened her eyes.

  “I’m not sleepy, just closing my eyes to rest them a bit. Go on with your joke, I’m listening.”

  Lady Wang demurred, “It’s already the fourth watch, madam, windy and with heavy dew. Won’t you go and rest? You can enjoy the moon again tomorrow; it’s still bright on the sixteenth.”

  “How can it be so late?”

  “It really is. The girls couldn’t stay up any longer; they’ve all gone off to sleep.”

  The Lady Dowager looked around and found only Tanchun there—the rest had slipped away.

  “All right,” she said with a smile. “You’re not used to staying up all night either. And we shouldn’t tire the girls, weak and delicate as they are. So poor Tanchun’s the only one still here. You’d better go too. It’s time the party broke up.”

  She rose, took a sip of tea, then wrapped the cape around her and was carried off by two women in a small bamboo sedan-chair which they had ready. The others followed her out of the Garden.

  The serving-women clearing up discovered that one fine porcelain cup was missing.

  They asked the others, “Did one of you break a cup? If so, bring us the pieces to hand in as evidence. Otherwise we may be accused of stealing it.”

  The others denied having broken anything.

  “But one of the maids attending the young ladies may have dropped a cup,” they suggested. “Try to remember, or just go and ask them.”

  “That’s right,” cried the woman in charge of the tea-services. “I remember Cuilu taking a cup. I’ll ask her.”

  She went to look for Cuilu, who happened to come towards her along the covered walk accompanied by Zijuan.

  Cuilu called out, “Has the old lady left? And do you know where our young ladies are?”

  “I’ve come to ask you for a cup, but you ask me for your mistresses instead.”

  “I’d just taken Miss Xiangyun some tea when she suddenly disappeared.”

  “Her Ladyship said just now they’d all gone to bed. You must have been playing about somewhere not to notice.”

  “They can’t have slipped off quietly to bed. They must be strolling about. Maybe, seeing the old lady leave, they went ahead to see her off. Let’s go to her place to look for them. Once we find them your teacup will turn up too. You can fetch it first thing tomorrow. What’s the hurry?”

  “Provided I know where it is, there’s no hurry. I’ll come for it tomorrow.”

  The woman went back then to clear away while Zijuan and Cuilu made for the old lady’s quarters.

  Daiyu and Xiangyun had not gone to bed. This big family reunion in the Jia mansion, which the Lady Dowager still complained was less lively than in the old days, as well as her reference to Baochai and Baoqin celebrating at home with their own family, had made Daiyu feel so disconsolate that she had slipped out to the corridor to shed tears. As Baoyu was listless and distraught these days because Qingwen’s illness had taken a turn for the worse, when his mother urged him to go to bed off he went. Tanchun was in no mood for enjoyment either, with family troubles weighing on her mind. And as neither Yingchun nor Xichun was too intimate with Daiyu, that left only Xiangyun to comfort her.

  “You should have more sense,” Xiangyun told her, “than to let this scene upset you. I have no family either, but I don’t take it to heart the way you do. With your poor health you ought to look after yourself. It’s too bad of Baochai and Baoqin. They kept saying our club must meet to celebrate the Moon Festival this year by writing a poem together, but now they’ve abandoned us and gone off to celebrate it on their own. Instead of our meeting to write a poem, the men and boys of the house have had things all their own way. As the old saying goes: How can an outsider be allowed to sleep beside one’s bed?’ Well, if they won’t join in, why don’t the two of us write a poem together? Tomorrow we can shame them with it.”

  As Xiangyun was trying to cheer her up, not wanting to spoil her fun Daiyu replied, “All right, But it’s too noisy here to have any poetic inspiration.”

  “Enjoying the moonlight on this hill is good, but it’s better still by the water. You know that lake at the foot of this hill and Concave Crystal Lodge by the inlet there? A lot of thought went into designing this Garden. The crest of the hill is called Convex Emerald, and the creek in the lake below Concave Crystal. ‘Convex’ and ‘concave,’ so seldom used before, make fresh, original names. And these two places— one above, one below; one bright, one dark; one hill, one water—seem specially designed for enjoying the moonlight. Those who like to look at the moon from a height can come here; those who prefer to see its reflection in water can go there. But as these two words are usually pronounced wa and tu they’re considered rather uncouth. That’s why Lu You’s line ‘The old inkstone, slightly concave, brims with ink’ was scoffed at as vulgar. Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  “Lu You wasn’t the only one to use this word, so did many other writers of old—Jiang Yan in his poetic essay On Green Moss, Dongfang Shuo in his Miraculous and Strange Records, and Zhang Yanyuan in his Anecdotes on Painting when he described the frescoes Zhang Sengyou painted in a monastery. Why, there are too many instances to quote. But nowadays people not knowing this think these vulgar words.

  “To tell you the truth,” Daiyu continued, “I’m the one who suggested both names. It was when we proposed names for places which hadn’t yet been given any and marked their localities. They were taken to the Palace and shown to Elder Sister who sent them to uncle, and he was delighted. He said if only he’d known he’d have asked us girls to help with the names, and he accepted them all without changing a word. Well, let’s go to concave Crystal Lodge.”

  They walked down the hill, round a bend, and reached the lake. A path by the bamboo railings along its bank led to Lotus Fragrance Pavilion. The little building here, nestling at the foot of the hill on which stood Convex Emerald Hall, had been given the name Concave Crystal because it was on low ground close to the water. As it was so small, with few rooms, there were only two serving-women on night duty; and knowing that the ladies at Convex Emerald Hall would not be requiring their services, after enjoying their share of mooncakes, sweetmeats, wine and dishes, they had put out the lights and gone to bed.

  “So they’re asleep—good,” said Xiangyun when they saw that the place was dark. “Let’s enjoy the water and moonlight under this awning.”

  Sitting on two bamboo stools they gazed at the bright moon in the sky and then at its reflection in the lake, the moon above and its reflection below rivalling each other in magnificence. It was like being in some mermaids’ crystal palace. As a breeze ruffled the green water of the lake they felt thoroughly refreshed.

  “What fun it would be to drink now in a boat on the lake!” exclaimed Xiangyun. “If we were at my home I’d take a boat out.”

  “As the ancients often said: ‘What enjoyment can there be if everything is perfect?’“ remarked Daiyu. “To my mind this is quite good enough.”

  “It’s only natural for men to hanker for more. Didn’t the old people often say: The poor think the rich have all their hearts’ desire. Try to disabuse them and they won’t believe you—not unless they grow rich themselves. Take the two of us for instance. Although we’ve lost our parents we’re living in luxury, yet we have a lot to upset us.”

  “We aren’t the only ones. Even their Ladyships, Baoyu, Tanchun and the others can’t have their way in everything big and small, even if they have good reason for wanting something. That applies to everyone. Especially girls like us who are living with other families, not our own....”

  Afraid Daiyu would start grieving again, Xiangyun interposed, “Well, enough of this idle talk. Let’s get on with our poem.”

  As she was talking they heard melodious fluting.

  “Their Ladyships are in high spirits today,” Daiyu remarked. “This fluting is pleasant and should
give us inspiration. As we both like five-character lines, let’s make regulated couplets in that metre.”

  “What rhymes shall we use?”

  “Suppose we count the bars from this end of the railing to the other to decide which category of rhymes to choose. For example, if it’s sixteen we’ll use the Xian rhymes. Wouldn’t that make a change?”

  “That’s certainly original.”

  So they got up to count the bars and found there were thirteen in all.

  Xiangyun chuckled, “It would be thirteen! That means the yuan group of rhymes. There aren’t too many for a long poem of couplets, so it may be awkward. Still, you must make a start.”

  “We’ll see which of us does better. But we ought to have paper and a brush to write it down.”

  “We can copy it out tomorrow. There’s no danger of forgetting it before then.”

  “All right then. I’ll start with a pat phrase.” Daiyu declaimed:

  “Mid-autumn’s fifteenth night is here again....”

  Xiangyun reflected, then said:

  “As on the Feast of Lanterns we stroll round.

  The sky above is sprinkled with bright stars....”

  Daiyu continued:

  “And everywhere sweet strings and pipes resound.

  Goblets fly here and there as men carouse....”

  “I like that last line,” Xiangyun approved. “I must find something good to match it.” After a moment’s thought she said:

  “No house but has its windows opened wide.

  The breeze that softly fans the air is chill...”

  “You’ve capped my attempt,” admitted Daiyu. “But your second line is trite. You should go from strength to strength.”

  “A long poem with tricky rhymes had to be padded out a bit. We can use some good lines later.”

  “If you don’t, you should be ashamed!” Daiyu went on:

  “But bright as day the fine night scene outside.

  The greybeard grabbing for a cake is mocked....”

  “That’s no good,” laughed Xiangyun. “It’s not classical. You’re putting me on the spot by using an everyday incident like that.”

  “I’d say you hadn’t read many books. This reference to cakes is a classical allusion. You should read the Tang dynasty records before you talk.”

  “Well, you haven’t foxed me. I’ve got it.” Xiangyun capped the verse:

  “Green girls share melons laughing themselves silly.

  How fresh the scent of jade osmanthus bloom....”

  “That really had no classical source,” protested Daiyu. “Tomorrow we’ll look it up for everyone to see. Let’s not waste time now.”

  “Anyway your second line is no good, padded out with expressions like ‘jade osmanthus.’“ She continued:

  “How bright the regal gold of the day-lily.

  Wax candles set the sumptuous feast aglow....”

  “You got off cheap with ‘day-lily,’“ observed Xiangyun. “That ready-made rhyme saved you a lot of trouble. But there was no need to drag in praise of the sovereign on their behalf. Besides, the line after that is mediocre.”

  “If you hadn’t used jade osmanthus. I wouldn’t have had to match it with day-lily, would I? And we have to bring in some opulent images to make it true to life.”

  Then Xiangyun continued:

  “Wild drinking games the splendid park confuse.

  Opposing sides obey the self-same rule....”

  “That last line’s good but rather hard to match.” Daiyu thought for a little then said:

  “Those guessing riddles hear three different clues.

  The dice is thrown and wins—the dots are red....”

  Xiangyun said, “I like your ‘three clues,’ making something colloquial poetic. But you shouldn’t have brought in dice again in the next line.” She continued:

  “Drums speed the blossom passed from hand to hand.

  The courtyard scintillates with limpid light....”

  Daiyu commented, “You capped my line all right but fell down again on the next. Why keep padding it out with the ‘breeze’ and the ‘moon’ all the time?”

  “I haven’t brought in the moon yet. And anyway a subject like this can do with some purple patches.”

  “Well, we’ll let it go for the time being. We can consider it again tomorrow.” Daiyu went on:

  “A silver splendour merges sky and land.

  For hosts and guests alike the same requital....”

  “Why go on referring to others? Why not speak about us?” Xiangyun resumed:

  “Verses are written turn and turn about.

  One leaning on the barricade to think....”

  “Yes, this is where we come in,” Daiyu remarked, then continued:

  “One ‘tapping the door’ to make the scene stand out.

  Engrossed as ever, though the wine is drunk....”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere!” Xiangyun went on:

  “They savour the last watches of the night.

  Then comes a gradual end to talk and laughter....”

  “Here’s where each line gets more difficult,” observed Daiyu, continuing:

  “Nought’s left now but the waning frosty light.

  By the steps, dew-drenched hibiscus blooms at dawn....”

  Xiangyun exclaimed, “Now what parallel shall I choose? Let me see.” She stood up to think, her hands clasped behind her back, then said with a smile, “All right. Luckily I’ve hit on a word. I was nearly floored.” She resumed:

  “In the courtyard, mist the albizzia shrouds.

  Autumn rapids pour forth through the core of rocks....”

  Daiyu sprang up with a cry of admiration.

  “This clever imp had really kept some good lines up her sleeve. Fancy coming out with ‘albizzia’—how did you think of that?”

  “Luckily for me, yesterday I dipped into the Selected Writings of Different Dynasties and found this name. I didn’t know what tree it was and wanted to look it up, but Cousin Baochai said, “There’s no need for that. This is the tree whose leaves open out in the daytime and fold up at night.’ Not trusting her, I checked up and found she was right. So it seems Cousin Baochai really knows a lot.”

  “It’s just the word to use here, and your line about ‘autumn rapids’ is even more felicitous, better than all the other lines. I shall have to cudgel my brains to match it, but I can’t possibly think of anything as good.” After a little reflection she went on:

  “Wind-swept leaves gather at the root of clouds.

  Lonely and pure the Lady of the Star....”

  “The parallel will pass but the second line is a comedown,” was Xiangyun’s verdict. “Still, at least the sentiment suits the scene. You haven’t just used an allusion for padding.” She continued:

  “The Silver Toad puffs and deflates the moon.

  Elixirs are prepared by the Jade Hare....”

  Daiyu simply nodded, then capped this:

  “The goddess flies towards the Palace of Cold Void.

  One soars on high to greet Weaving Maid and Cowherd....”

  Xiangyun looking up at the moon nodded and continued:

  “One sails a barque to the heavenly maiden fair.

  The orb, for ever changing, wanes and waxes....”

  “You’re using the same image again,” objected Daiyu, but went on:

  “At each month’s start and end but its ghost is there.

  Clepsydra’s water had well-nigh run dry....”

  Before Xiangyun could continue, Daiyu pointed at a dark shadow in the pool and exclaimed, “Look there! That looks like a man in the dark. Could it be a ghost?”

  “You’re imagining things again. I’m not afraid of ghosts. I’ll hit it.”

  Xiangyun bent to pick up a stone and threw it into the pool. Splash! Ripples radiated out to shatter the moon’s reflection, which then rounded out again. When this had happened several times, they heard a cry in the dark shadows and a white stork took wing strai
ght towards Lotus Fragrance Pavilion.

  “So that’s all it was,” chuckled Daiyu. “I didn’t think it could be a stork. It gave me quite a fright.”

  “How amusing—it’s given me an idea.” And Xiangyun declaimed:

  “The lamp by the window is no longer bright

  A stork’s shadow flit across the chilly pool....”

  Daiyu exclaimed in admiration again, stamping her foot.

  “This confounded stork had helped her! This line is even more original than the one about ‘autumn rapids.’ How am I going to match it? The only parallel for ‘shadow’ is ‘spirit.’ A stork flitting across the chilly pool sounds so natural, apt, vivid and original too! I shall have to give up.”

  “We can find something if we both think hard, or else leave it till tomorrow.”

  Daiyu still looking up at the sky ignored her.

  After a while she suddenly laughed and said, “You needn’t gloat. I’ve got it. Listen.

  “The poet’s spirit is buried in cold moonlight.”

  Xiangyun clapped her hands.

  “Very good indeed! The only possible parallel. Burying the poet’s spirit—wonderful.” She added with a sigh, “Of course that line’s distinctive, but it’s rather too melancholy. Now that you’re unwell you shouldn’t make such strangely sad and depressing lines which sound ill-omened.”

  Daiyu chuckled, “If I hadn’t, how was I to beat you? But I worked so hard on it, I haven’t got the next line yet....”

  Just then someone stepped out from behind the rocks on the other side of the balustrade and laughed.