A Dream of Red Mansion

by Cao Xueqin

  “Buddha be praised!” they chortled. “At last Heaven has opened its eyes. Once this pest is gone we shall have a little peace.”

  Baoyu, as soon as he heard that his mother was coming to make a check-up, guessed that it boded trouble for Qingwen. So he dashed off too soon to hear the nurses’ jubilation.

  He found Happy Red Court packed with people. His mother, sitting there with a face like thunder, ignored him.

  Qingwen was wasting away, having touched no food for four or five days; but now with dishevelled hair she was dragged from the kang and two women carried her off.

  “She’s only to take the clothes she has on,” ordered Lady Wang. “The finer ones are to be kept for better maids.”

  She then summoned all the maids for her inspection.

  This was because Wang Shanbao’s wife had taken advantage of Lady Wang’s anger a few days previously to slander Qingwen, as well as others in the Garden whom she disliked. And Lady Wang had taken all this to heart. As she was busy during the festival she let things slide for a couple of days, but now she had come to inspect all the maids in the Garden, not only to dismiss Qingwen, but also because it had reached her ears that as Baoyu was growing up, his maids who were hussies were teaching him bad ways. As this was more serious than Qingwen’s case, Lady Wang meant to examine all the maids from Xiren down to the girls assigned rough work.

  “Which is the one,” she asked, “born on the same day as Baoyu?”

  Since the girl in question dared not answer, an old nurse pointed her out.

  “Huixiang here, also called Sier.”

  Lady Wang looked at her closely. She saw that this maid, while by no means half as pretty as Qingwen, was not unattractive and looked intelligent. She dressed rather conspicuously too. Lady Wang smiled scornfully.

  “Another shameless slut! She said in secret that a boy and girl born on the same day, at the same hour, are destined to marry. It was you who told him that. Do you think because we live apart I don’t know? Though I don’t often come to the Garden, I keep a close watch on what you’re up to here. Baoyu is my only son. How can I allow hussies like you to lead him astray?”

  At mention of what she had said in confidence to Baoyu, Sier blushed and hung her head, weeping.

  Having ordered her to be fetched away by her parents and married off, Lady Wang asked:

  “Which is the creature called Yelu Xiongnu?” The nurses pointed out Fangguan.

  “Oh, an actress? No wonder she’s a vamp. When we offered last time to release you, you wouldn’t go. Well then, you should have behaved yourself, instead of making mischief and getting Baoyu to carry on so wildly.”

  “I’d never dare!” pleaded Fangguan with a smile.

  “So you’re talking back! Tell me this: The year before last when we went to the Imperial Sepulchre, who coaxed Baoyu to bring that girl Liu Wuer here? Luckily she died a premature death; otherwise, if you’d got her in, you’d have ganged up to make more trouble in the Garden. You even bully your own foster-mother, to say nothing of other people.”

  She sent for this woman to take Fangguan away and find her a husband outside, saying she could keep all her things. She also ordered all the young actresses assigned to the different girls’ quarters the previous year to clear out of the Garden, be fetched away and married off. This naturally delighted their foster-mothers, who came to kowtow their thanks.

  Then Lady Wang had the whole house searched. Any of Baoyu’s things which looked suspicious were to be confiscated and taken to her quarters.

  “This will clean things up,” she said, “and save gossip in future.” She also warned Xiren and Sheyue, “Be careful now. If you overstep the mark I shan’t let you off either.”

  She had them look up an almanac, which indicated that it would be inauspicious to move that year. So Baoyu had to stay in the Garden for the time being.

  “Next year we’ll move him out,” declared Lady Wang. “That will stop further trouble.”

  This said, she led her attendants off to inspect other compounds, not even waiting for tea.

  But to revert to Baoyu: He had expected nothing more than a perfunctory check-up, little dreaming that his mother would come down on them like a thunderbolt, taking them to task for things they had said in secret—which she had got word for word. He knew there was no saving the situation and wished he could die then and there; but as she was in such a rage he dared not make a false move or utter a word. He followed her to Seeping Fragrance Pavilion, where she told him:

  “Go back and apply yourself to your books. You may be questioned tomorrow. Your father was fuming just now.”

  On his way back he wondered who had been telling tales. No outsiders knew what went on in his house, so how could his mother be so well informed? In a quandary, he returned to his room and found Xiren weeping there. Distressed by the less of his favourite maid, he threw himself on the bed to start weeping too.

  Xiren knew that Qingwen’s dismissal was the only thing that really mattered to him. She nudged him.

  “It’s no use crying. Get up and listen to me. Qingwen’s on the mend, and going home like this she’ll be able to rest quietly for a few days. If you really don’t want to let her go, wait till your mother has got over her anger then go and beg the old lady to recall her. That shouldn’t be difficult. The mistress did this in a fit of anger, just because she was taken in by some spiteful talk.”

  “I can’t imagine what her crime was,” he sobbed.

  “The mistress just feels that someone with her good looks is bound to be rather flighty, and there can’t be any peace with such a beauty here —that’s why she dislikes her. She prefers plain, ungainly girls like us.”

  “Even so, how could she know our secret jokes? No outsiders could have passed them on. That’s what’s so odd.”

  “Have you ever shown any discretion? When you get worked up you don’t care who’s about. Many’s the time I’ve tipped you a wink or signalled to you on the sly, but before you took the hint others had already noticed.”

  “How is it my mother knows all the faults of the other girls but not those of you, Sheyue and Qiuwen?”

  Touched on the raw Xiren lowered her head for a while, at a loss for an answer.

  “Yes, that’s odd,” she agreed presently. “We three have spoken carelessly in fun too, but the mistress seems to have forgotten that. Maybe she has other things on her mind and won’t send us away until she’s dealt with them.”

  “You’re known as a paragon of virtue,” he retorted. “And those two are influenced by you. So how could you slip up so as to deserve punishment? Fangguan now, being so young and a bit too smart, can’t help bullying people and offending them. In Sier’s case, it’s my fault. It started that day when I quarrelled with you and called her in to wait on me. That made her uppish and led to this trouble today.

  “But Qingwen’s like you, she was transferred here as a child from the old lady’s quarters. She may be better-looking, but what does that matter? And though she’s outspoken and has a sharp tongue she’s never done you any harm. I suppose it’s her good looks that were her undoing.” He burst into tears again.

  Inferring from this that Baoyu suspected her of telling tales, Xiren did not like to pursue the subject further.

  “Only Heaven knows the truth,” she sighed. “We can’t find out now who told, so it’s no use crying. Take it easy till the old lady’s in a good mood, then you can tell her about it and ask to have Qingwen back.”

  “Don’t hold out false hopes,” he snorted. “If I wait till my mother calms down it’ll be too late, because Qingwen’s illness won’t wait. She’s always lived in comfort, never had to put up with a single day’s bad treatment. Even I, who know her so well, often offended her. Dismissing her now,” he went on more bitterly, “seriously ill as she is and with all that resentment bottled up inside her, is like throwing a delicate orchid just coming into bloom into a pigsty. Besides, she has no parents, only an elder cousin who’s a dr
unkard. How can she stand it there? How can you talk of waiting for a few days? Who knows whether I’ll ever see her again or not?”

  Xiren laughed.

  “You’re like ‘the magistrate who goes in for arson but won’t allow common people to light a lamp.’ If we let slip some tactless remark you say it’s unlucky, but it’s all right for you to talk about her dying. She may be extra delicate, still it shouldn’t come to that.”

  “I didn’t speak at random. There was an omen this spring.”

  “What omen?”

  “That begonia at the foot of the steps was thriving, but then for no reason half its branches withered. I knew that was a portent, and now see what’s happened to her.”

  Xiren laughed again.

  “I shouldn’t say this, but I must, you’re a regular old woman. How can an educated young gentleman talk that way? What have plants to do with human fate? If you’re not an old woman you really are a fool.”

  “You don’t understand,” Baoyu sighed. “Not only plants and trees but all things in the world are just as sentient and rational as human beings. When in rapport with someone, they’re specially sensitive. Some outstanding examples are the juniper tree before Confucius’ temple and the yarrow before his tomb, as well as the cypress before Zhuge Liang’s temple and the pine before Yue Fei’s tomb. All these stately plants embodying these men’s fine spirit have endured for centuries, withering when the world is in confusion and flourishing again when it is well governed. They have withered and revived again several times in all these thousands of years. Aren’t they sure signs?

  “Minor examples are the peony before Lady Yang’s Scented Pavilion, the tree of longing before her Upright Tower, or the grass on Wang Zhaojun’s tomb. They all had divine sensibility, didn’t they? It’s because she’s going to die that half the begonia withered.”

  Hearing this senseless talk, Xiren did not know whether to laugh or cry.

  “You’re getting more and more outrageous,” she protested. “How can you rack your brains to compare Qingwen, a mere nobody, with those great figures? Besides, however good she may be, she’s lower in status than I am. You should compare me, not her with the begonia. I suppose this means I’m going to die very soon.”

  Baoyu clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “What a thing to say! Before one death’s taken place you’re talking of another. All right, let’s drop the subject. I’ve already lost three of you, I don’t want to lose one more.”

  Secretly pleased, Xiren told herself: If they hadn’t gone, how far would you have let yourself go?

  “From now on,” he continued, “let’s say no more about it, just consider the three of them as dead and gone. Others have died before without it mattering much to me anyway. It’s all the same. But let’s talk about practical matters. We must secretly send her things to her without letting the mistresses know, as well as a few strings of cash from our savings to help cure her illness. We owe her that for old times’ sake.”

  “How heartless and stingy you think us!” Xiren exclaimed. “We don’t need a reminder from you. I’ve already sorted out all her clothes and things and put them aside. In the daytime there are too many busybodies around, all eager to make trouble; but as soon as it’s dark we’ll quietly get Mrs. Song to take them over. I’ve saved a few strings of cash too, which I’m giving her.”

  Baoyu expressed grateful thanks.

  “I’m already known as ‘a paragon of virtue,’“ she said sarcastically. “Surely this is a cheap way to add to my reputation.”

  At once he apologized and tried to mollify her.

  That evening, in strict confidence, they sent Mrs. Song off on this errand. And after settling his maids down, Baoyu slipped out of the back gate alone and begged an old woman to take him to see Qingwen. At first she most resolutely refused, saying that if it was found out and reported to the mistress she’d lose her job; but after he pleaded hard and promised her a tip she finally took him.

  Now Qingwen had been sold into bondage to Lai Da’s family at the age of ten, before she had grown her hair. Old Mrs. Lai used to take her to the Rong Mansion, and the Lady Dowager took a fancy to her because of her intelligence and good looks, where upon Mrs. Lai presented her to the old lady, and that was how she had later become Baoyu’s maid. Having come here as a child, she had no recollection of her old home and parents. Her only relative was a cousin on her father’s side, a good cook but without any steady employment. She had asked Mrs. Lai to take him into service in the Rong Mansion. By that time Qingwen was waiting on the old lady and had turned out a smart, sharp-tongued girl with a hot temper; but touched by her remembering her kinsman, Mrs. Lai bought him too and gave him one of the bondmaids as his wife.

  However, once living in comfort, the fellow forgot his hard life as a vagrant and took to drinking heavily, paying no attention to his wife who happened to be a good-looking, amorous woman. When he drank so recklessly, ignoring her, she felt as disconsolate as a piece of jade tossed among brambles or a beauty immured in solitude. Then, finding him so easygoing that he was never jealous, she started dispensing her favours to all the stout fellows and men of parts in the mansion until soon she had tried out half the men, masters as well as servants. If, Reader, you wish to know her name, she was that “Miss Deng,” the wife of ‘To the Muddy Worm” with whom Jia Lian had once had an affair.

  As these were Qingwen’s only relatives, she had to stay with them. Her cousin was away at this time and Miss Deng had gone out after supper to call on friends, leaving Qingwen lying alone in the outer room. Baoyu told the old woman to keep watch in the courtyard, then lifted the matting portiere and went in. There was Qingwen on an earthen kang covered with a coarse mat, although at least she had her own pillow and bedding. Not knowing what to do, he approached her with tears in his eyes and gently took her hand, softly calling her name.

  Qingwen had caught a chill and this, combined with her relatives’ reproaches, had made her illness worse. After coughing for a whole day she had just dozed off, but hearing her name called she opened her eyes with an effort. When she saw it was Baoyu, she was so overwhelmed with pleased surprise mingled with grief and anguish that she promptly burst out sobbing. Grasping his hand with all her might, she managed at last to gasp between fits of coughing:

  “I never thought to see you again....”

  Baoyu too could only weep.

  “Merciful Buddha!” cried Qingwen. “You’ve come just in time. Pour me half a cup of tea. I’ve been parched all this time, but when I call no one comes.”

  “Where is the tea?” he asked, wiping his eyes.

  “On the stove.”

  Baoyu saw a black earthenware pot which he would never have recognized as a teapot. He took from the table a bowl, so large and coarse that it bore no resemblance to a teacup either and when he had it in his hand it smelled of rancid oil. He washed and rinsed it several times, after which he picked up the pot and poured out half a bowl. The dark red brew was unlike any tea he had seen.

  Qingwen leaning on her pillow urged, “Pass it over, quick, for me to take a sip. You can’t expect them here to have the kind of tea we’re used to.”

  Baoyu first took a sip himself. The brew had no fragrance, only a bitter taste slightly reminiscent of tea. But when he passed her the bowl she gulped it all down as if it were sweet dew. He reflected: In the past the best tea couldn’t satisfy her, yet now she likes this! It shows the truth of the old saying: “The well-fed turn away from cooked meats, while the famished enjoy dregs of wine and husks of rice.” And again: “One glutted with rice prefers thin gruel.”

  Shedding tears he asked, “Have you anything to tell me while nobody’s about?”

  “What is there to say?” she sobbed. “I’m just dragging on from day to day, from hour to hour. I shall be gone in a few days at most, I know. But I can’t die content. I may have been born with more than my share of good looks, but there’s been no secret understanding between us and I’ve never tried t
o lead you astray, yet they insist I’m a vamp. That I do resent! Now I’ve got this bad name for nothing and I’m dying. If only I’d known how things would end I’d have acted differently; but I was fool enough to think we’d always be together. How could I guess there’d be this sudden scandal and I’d have nowhere to plead my innocence?” She burst into tears again.

  Baoyu took her hand. On her wrists, thin as sticks, were for silver bracelets.

  “Better take these off,” he advised. “You can wear them when you’re better.” As he drew off the bracelets and put them under her pillow he remarked, “You took such care to grow those finger-nails two inches long; now your illness is going to spoil them.”

  Qingwen dried her tears and reached for a pair of scissors to cut off the tapering nails of the last two fingers of her left hand. Then, under the quilt, she took off her worn red silk bodice and gave this to him together with the nails.

  “Take these keepsakes to remind you of me,” she said. “And now take off your inner jacket and help me put it on, so that lying in my coffin I shall feel as if I were still in Happy Red Court. I shouldn’t do such a thing, of course, but as I’ve already got a bad name—why not?”

  At once Baoyu took off his inner jacket, put on her bodice, and concealed the finger-nails.

  “If they see these when you go back and question you,” she sobbed, “there’s no need to lie. Just tell them these are mine. Since I’ve been falsely accused, why shouldn’t I at least have this satisfaction?”

  While she was still speaking her cousin’s wife lifted the portiere and burst in, smirking.

  “Fine, I heard all you two said!” She turned to Baoyu. “What is a young master doing in a servant’s room? Have you come to seduce me, thinking me young and pretty?”

  “Hush, good sister! Not so loud!” he begged. “She’s worked for me all these years, so I slipped in to see her.”

  Miss Deng hustled him into the inner room.

  “You don’t want me to shout,” she chortled. “All right—if you’ll be nice to me.”