A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

“A fine poem, a fine poem!” she cried. “But it is too melancholy. You’d better not go on. If you continue in this way, these two lines won’t stand out so well and the poem may seem padded and forced.”

  Daiyu and Xiangyun, caught unawares, were startled to see Miaoyu.

  “Where did you spring from?” they asked.

  “Knowing you were all enjoying the moon and listening to fine fluting, I came out to admire this clear lake and bright moonlight too and on my way here suddenly heard the two of you poeticizing, which seemed the height of refinement. So I stopped to listen. You’ve made some good lines but as a whole it’s too mournful—or was that fated? That’s why I stepped out to stop you.

  “The party broke up long ago and the old lady’s left the Garden. Most of the others here must be asleep, and your maids will be wondering what’s become of you. Aren’t you afraid of catching cold? Come back to my place now for a cup of tea. The day will break any minute.”

  “I’d no idea it was so late,” said Daiyu.

  The three girls went to Green Lattice Nunnery. They found the lamp before the shrine still lit and the incense in the censer not yet burnt out, but the few old nuns there had gone to bed leaving only one young maid dozing on a hassock. Miaoyu roused her to brew tea. Then came a sudden knocking on the gate, and the maid opened it to admit Zijuan and Cuilu with some old nurses come to look for Daiyu and Xiangyun.

  Seeing them drinking tea they said laughingly, “You had us searching the whole Garden—even Madam Xue’s place—for you. We were looking just now in that small pavilion at the foot of the hill, and luckily the night-watchers were awake. They told us two people had been talking under the awning outside. Someone else joined them and they spoke of going to the nunnery. That’s how we’ve tracked you down.”

  Miaoyu told the maid to take them to another room to have a rest and some tea. She herself brought out a brush, inkstone, paper and ink and asked the girls to recite their composition, which she wrote down from start to finish.

  Finding her in such a good mood Daiyu said, “I’ve never seen you before in such high spirits. If not for that I wouldn’t presume to ask for your opinion. Is this poem worth polishing? If you think not, we’ll burn it; but if it is, will you please make some corrections?”

  “I won’t venture to make rash comments, but as you’ve already used twenty-two rhymes I expect you’ve produced your most striking images and if you go on you may tire yourselves out. I’d like to round it off, only I’m afraid I may spoil it.”

  Daiyu had never read any poems by Miaoyu, and as the young nun was so eager she urged her, “Please do! That may make out feeble attempts seem passable.”

  “We must wind up the poem by reverting to the present situation. If we pass over true feelings and incidents and simply search for striking images and expressions, we’ll be losing our identity and departing from the main theme.”

  “Quite right,” they concurred.

  Miaoyu picked up her brush and wrote her addition straight off, then showed it to the other two, saying:

  “Don’t laugh at me! I feel this is the only way to get back to the theme. Then a few sad lines earlier on won’t matter.” They took what she had written and read:

  The incense in gold tripods has burnt out,

  And ice-white oil in the jade basin forms;

  Fluting recalls a widow’s lamentations

  As a small serving-maid the silk quilt warms.

  On empty curtains a bright phoenix hangs.

  The idle screens gay ducks and drakes enfold;

  Thick dew has made the moss more slippery,

  And heavy frost makes bamboo hard to hold.

  Strolling again beside the winding lake,

  Climbing once more the solitary hill,

  The rugged boulders seem contending ghosts.

  The gnarled trees wolves and tigers crouching still.

  Dawn lights the tortoise pedestal of stone,

  On outer trellis now the thick dew falls.

  A thousand woodland birds begin to stir,

  In vales below a single gibbon calls.

  How can we stray on a familiar road?

  Why ask the way to fountain-heads we know?

  The bells chime in Green Lattice Nunnery,

  The cocks in Paddy-Sweet Cottage start to crow.

  With cause for joy why grieve excessively,

  Or needlessly display anxiety?

  A maiden’s feelings none but she can vent—

  To whom can she confide her nicety?

  Speak not of weariness though night is done,

  Over fresh tea let us talk on and on.

  She then appended the title “A Poem Written Collectively with Thirty-five Rhymes While Celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival in Grand View Garden.”

  Daiyu and Xiangyun heaped praise on this ending. “We’ve been ignoring a talent right under our eyes, yet trying to seek what is far away!” they exclaimed. “We have such a superior poetess here, yet every day we pretend to be able to write.”

  “We can polish it tomorrow,” suggested Miaoyu. “It’ll soon be light, and after all we must get some rest.”

  Then the other two took their leave and went off with their maids. Miaoyu saw them out of the gate and watched until they were out of sight before closing the gate and returning to her room.

  Meanwhile Cuilu had told Xiangyun, “They’re sitting up waiting for us in Madam Zhu’s place. Let’s go back now.”

  “You can call in there on the way and tell them to go to bed,” replied Xiangyun. “If I go, I’ll only disturb them. I’d better raise a rumpus in Miss Lin’s place instead.”

  In Bamboo Lodge half the maids were already asleep. Having undressed and washed, Daiyu and Xiangyun went to bed; Zijuan put down the gauze bed-curtain and took away the lamp, closing the door behind her. However, Xiangyun could not sleep in a strange bed. As for Daiyu, being anaemic she often suffered from insomnia too, and having stayed up past her usual hour she now felt wide-awake. So the two of them tossed and turned.

  Daiyu asked, “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

  “I can’t sleep well in a strange bed—that’s my trouble. And I’m no longer sleepy, so I’m just resting. What about you?”

  “I’ve had insomnia a long time now,” Daiyu sighed. “In a whole year I probably have only ten nights of good sleep.”

  “No wonder you’re unwell then!”

  If you want to know what followed, read the next chapter.

  Chapter 77

  A Pretty Maid Wrongly Accused Dies an Untimely Death

  Lovely Actresses Sever Worldly Ties and Join a Nunnery

  After the Moon Festival, as Xifeng though well enough to leave her bed was not yet fully recovered, Lady Wang continued to summon the doctor to attend her every day as before. The fortifying pills he prescribed required, among other ingredients, two ounces of the best ginseng. Lady Wang sent for some. But after a long search, all her maids could find was a small box of roots no thicker than hairpins, of such poor quality that she made them look again. Presently they came back with a packet of ginseng rootlets.

  “When we don’t want it there’s plenty; when we do there’s none,” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Time and again I’ve told you to make sure to put things back in the right place, but you never listen, just dumping them anywhere. You don’t know the value of ginseng. When we need it we have to pay through the nose, and what’s bought outside may not be efficacious.”

  Caiyun explained, “This seems to be all we have. Last time Lady Xing came to ask for some, you gave her our whole stock.”

  “Nonsense. Go and make a more careful search.”

  This time Caiyun brought back a few packets of herbs.

  “What these are I don’t know,” she said. “Please have a look, madam.

  There isn’t anything else.”

  Lady Wang opened the packets but could not recall what they were, and there was no ginseng among them. She sent to ask Xifeng whether she had a
ny. A few rootlets only, was the reply, not of the best quality either, and she needed these for her medicine every day. Lady Wang then applied to Lady Xing, who said it was because she had run out that she had asked her for ginseng the other day.

  Then Lady Wang had no other recourse but to apply in person to the old lady. The latter at once ordered Yuanyang to fetch all she had, and this proved to be quite a large packet of ginseng roots each as thick as a man’s finger. Yuanyang weighed out two ounces. Lady Wang gave these to Zhou Rui’s wife, instructing her to send them to the doctor along with the herbs which they could not identify, and get him to label these. Before long Mrs. Zhou brought them back.

  “All the herbs have been properly wrapped up and labelled,” she said. “But as for this ginseng, madam, although it’s of the best quality and costs more than thirty taels of silver an ounce now, it’s too old. Ginseng isn’t like other medicines. No matter how fine the roots, after a hundred years they turn to ashes. There haven’t turned to ashes yet, but they have dried up and lost their potency. So the doctor hopes you’ll take this back and get him some fresher, whatever the quality.”

  Lady Wang lowered her head in thought.

  “There’s nothing for it then,” she concluded at last, “but to go and buy two ounces.” Not interested in examining the other packets she had them put away, then told Zhou Rui’s wife, “Get the servants outside to buy two ounces of good ginseng. If the old lady happens to ask just tell her we used hers—no need to say any more.”

  Baochai who was present put in, “One moment, aunt. There’s no good ginseng to be bought outside. Whenever they get a whole root they cut it into two or three pieces and graft other rootlets on to these to be sold, with others, as if they were whole roots; so the size is nothing to go by. Our shop often does business with those ginseng dealers. I can easily ask mother to get my brother to send an assistant to approach one of them and buy two ounces of good whole roots. It’s worth spending a few taels extra to get the best.”

  “That’s a splendid idea!” exclaimed Lady Wang. “It’s good of you to take the trouble.”

  Baochai came back some time later to report that someone had been sent, and they should have the ginseng that evening—in time to prepare the medicine the next morning. Lady Wang was greatly relieved.

  “This is like the proverb: ‘The pomade-vendor uses water for her own hair,’“ she sighed. “Goodness knows how much we’ve given away, but when we need any ourselves we have to ask for help right and left!”

  “Ginseng’s expensive,” rejoined Baochai with a smile. “After all, it’s only medicine, and such things should be given away to help others. We shouldn’t hoard them the way vulgar people do.”

  Lady Wang nodded.

  “Quite right.”

  Baochai left then, and as no one else was about Lady Wang summoned Zhou Rui’s wife to ask the result of their recent search of the Garden. Mrs. Zhou had discussed this with Xifeng and agreed to keep nothing back. Her description of all that had happened shocked and enraged Lady Wang. But she was in a quandary too, as Siqi was Yingchun’s maid and both of them belonged to Lady Xing’s house. She proposed reporting the matter to her.

  Mrs. Zhou demurred, “The other day she scolded Wang Shanbao’s wife and boxed her ears for being too officious. So now Mrs. Wang’s shamming ill and won’t leave home—especially as Siqi’s her granddaughter and she fell into her own trap. All she can do now is pretend it never happened and hope things will quiet down. If we report this to Her Ladyship, she may suspect us of trying to stir up more trouble. Better take Siqi to her with the evidence, and after seeing it they’ll at most give her a beating and assign a different maid here. Wouldn’t that be simpler?

  “If instead of that we just report it, Lady Xing may make excuses in order to shift the responsibility. ‘Why doesn’t your mistress deal with it, then?’ she may ask. ‘Why report it to me?’ That would cause delay. And if Siqi took this chance to kill herself, that would make matters worse. The women who’ve been watching over her the last few days are liable to grow slack. Suppose they do, and something happens—what then?”

  After some thought Lady Wang decided, “You’re right. We must hurry up and see to this before dealing with those vixens in our own house.”

  Thereupon Mrs. Zhou called together some of her colleagues and led them to Yingchun’s compound.

  She told Yingchun, “The mistress says Siqi has grown up and her mother keeps coming to ask to have her back, so Her Ladyship’s giving her back to be married off. She’s to leave today. Another good maid will be chosen to wait on you, miss.”

  She ordered Siqi to pack up her things and leave. Yingchun’s eyes filled with tears, for she hated to part with the girl. But as other maids had told her in confidence about the events of that evening, fond as she was of Siqi there was nothing she could do where the question of morality was concerned. Siqi had begged her to intervene on her behalf and let her stay on; however, Yingchun did not have a ready tongue and was too weak to reach a decision.

  “How cruel you are, miss!” sobbed Siqi, seeing that her fate was sealed. “You’ve kept me hoping the last two days, yet won’t say a good word for me now.”

  Zhou Rui’s wife demanded, “You don’t expect the young lady to keep you, do you? Even if she did, how could you face the others in the Garden? Take my advice and pack up quickly to slip away without anyone noticing. That’ll look better for us all.”

  Yingchun said tearfully, “I don’t know what wicked thing you’ve done, but asking to keep you would spoil my reputation too. Just look at Ruhua: she was here for some years as well, but she left when she was told to. And you’re not the only two. All the girls in the Garden will have to leave, I suppose, when they’re grown up. Since we have to part sooner or later, you may as well go now.”

  “After all, the young lady sees things more clearly,” agreed Mrs. Zhou. “Others will be sent away later, don’t you worry.”

  Siqi had no alternative but to kowtow to Yingchun and take her leave of the other maids.

  In tears she whispered, “If you hear that I’m in bad trouble, miss, do put in a good word for me for old time’s sake.”

  Yingchun with tears in her own eyes promised, “I will.” Then Zhou Rui’s wife and her colleagues led Siqi out, instructing two serving-women to carry away all her things. They had not gone far when Xiuju overtook them and, wiping her tears, handed Siqi a silk package.

  “This is from our young lady,” she said. “Now that mistress and maid are parting, she wants you to have this keepsake.”

  This gift reduced Siqi to tears again. She and Xiuju wept together until Mrs. Zhou lost patience and insisted that they must be on their way. “Please be kind and wait a little, aunties,” Siqi sobbed. “Let me say goodbye to the others here who’ve been like sisters to me all these years.”

  Mrs. Zhou and the rest had business of their own to attend to and felt this task an extra imposition, in addition to which they bitterly resented the airs these maids put on. Naturally they had no patience with such talk.

  “Get a move on and stop dilly-dallying,” they scoffed. “We’ve more important things to see to. Are you one flesh and blood that you have to say goodbye? They’d only laugh at you. Shilly-shallying won’t get you anywhere. So come along.”

  With that they marched straight on to the back side gate, and Siqi afraid to say more had no choice but to follow.

  It so happened that Baoyu came back just then from outside. When he saw Siqi being led off, followed by women carrying things, he guessed that she had been dismissed for good. He had heard of the commotion that night and the happenings earlier in the day which had led to Qingwen’s relapse; but though carefully questioned, she herself could not tell what had given rise to it all. The day before he had seen Ruhua leave, and now it was Siqi’s turn. In consternation he barred the way and asked where they were going. The stewards’ wives knew Baoyu’s quirky ways and did not want him to pester and delay them.

&nbs
p; “This is none of your business,” said Mrs. Zhou with a smile. “Get back to your books.”

  “Good sisters, please wait a moment,” he begged. “I have something to say.”

  “The mistress ordered us not to lose any time. And what can you have to say? We are just carrying out Her Ladyship’s orders. That’s our only concern.”

  Siqi caught hold of his sleeve.

  “They can’t disobey orders,” she sobbed. “But please go and beg Her Ladyship to let me off.”

  Baoyu’s heart bled for her. Tears started to his eyes.

  “I don’t know what dreadful thing you’ve done,” he cried. “Qingwen’s fallen ill with anger, and now you’re leaving. All of you are leaving! What’s to become of me?”

  At this Mrs. Zhou scolded Siqi, “You’re no longer a deputy young mistress now. I’ll beat you if you don’t do as you’re told. Don’t think you still have your young mistress to protect you and can go on making any trouble you please. So come along quietly instead of tugging at Master Bao. What way is that to behave?”

  They dragged Siqi off before she could say any more; and Baoyu, afraid they might report this, could only glare after them. When they had gone some distance he shook a finger at them and swore:

  “How strange! How is it that once girls marry they get contaminated by men and become so obnoxious—even worse than men!”

  The matrons on duty at the gate burst out laughing.

  “Whatever is Master Bao talking about?” they cried. “Goodness knows where he gets hold of such nonsense.” To tease him they asked, “Do you mean that all girls are good and all married women bad?”

  “That’s right.” Baoyu nodded. “Of course.”

  “We’re so stupid,” they chuckled, “there’s something else we’d like you to explain....”

  Before they could finish some nurses came along.

  “Watch out!” they cried. “Mind you gather together all those on duty and stay at your posts. Her Ladyship’s come to the Garden on a tour of inspection. She may very well come here....”

  Then one of them ordered someone to fetch the relatives of that girl Qingwen in Happy Red Court and wait here to take her away.