by Cao Xueqin
Mrs. Zhou interposed, “Just go and see for yourself. Stop tugging at other people.” She gave her a shove.
The adopted son ran over to protest, “Are you banking on your masters’ power to beat up my mother?” He threw a chair at Mrs. Zhou, but missed her.
Baochai’s maids inside on hearing this commotion hurried out, afraid Mrs. Zhou might get hurt. They crowded forward to intervene, expostulating and warning the fellow off. But that only made Mrs. Xia and her son set up a still greater clamour.
“We know how powerful your Rong Mansion is!” they yelled. “Now our girl has been killed, you may as well kill us too!”
Again they charged Aunt Xue. The maids, for all there were so many of them, were powerless to stop them for as the saying goes, ‘Ten thousand men are no match for one desperado.”
Things had just taken this ugly turn when Jia Lian arrived with seven or eight men-servants. Sizing up the situation, he ordered his men to drag Mrs. Xia’s son away.
“Stop this brawling and talk reasonably,” he said. “This place must be straightened up at once. Officers from the Board of Punishments are coming to hold an inquest.”
The arrival of this gentleman with attendants before him to clear the way made all the servants present stand at attention, and Jingui’s mother realized that this must be one of the Jia family. Then her son was seized and she heard there was to be an official inquest. She had been meaning to raise a great ballyhoo over her daughter’s corpse, then appeal to the court for justice, little thinking that the others would inform the authorities first. This took the wind out other sails. Aunt Xue was still too stunned to speak, and it was Mrs. Zhou who reported to Jia Lian:
“This woman came here not to look at her daughter but to abuse Madam Xue. We were remonstrating with her when a wild man burst in to raise pandemonium. In the presence of ladies too—it was simply outrageous!”
“We needn’t argue with them now,” said Jia Lian. “Later we can have him beaten and interrogated. Men should keep to themselves and not intrude on ladies. His mother could surely have seen her daughter by herself. Why should he rush in if not to loot the place?”
Meanwhile his servants had secured the young man.
“What a way to behave, Mrs. Xia!” cried Zhou Rui’s wife now that she had more support. “Since you came, you should have asked the facts of the matter. Either your daughter committed suicide, or Baochan poisoned her. Why try to blackmail people before finding out the facts and seeing the corpse? Would Madam Xue let her daughter-in-law die and do nothing about it? We’ve tied Baochan up. Because your daughter was always making trouble, she asked Xiangling to keep her company and they slept in the same room. That’s why both she and Baochan are under guard there. We were waiting for you to come and attend the inquest, at which we’ll find out just what happened.”
Aware that her position was weak, Mrs. Xia had to go with Zhou Rui’s wife to her daughter’s room. The sight of Jingui stark on the kang, her face covered with clotted blood, set her wailing aloud.
When Baochan saw Mrs. Xia she sobbed, “Our young lady was kind to Xiangling, getting her to move in with her, yet Xiangling seized this chance to poison her!”
By now the whole Xue household had gathered there. “Nonsense!” they protested. “She died after drinking that soup yesterday. Weren’t you the one who prepared it?”
“Yes, I was. But after bringing it in I went out to see to something else. Then Xiangling must have put some poison in it.”
Before she had finished speaking, Jingui’s mother dashed towards Xiangling, but the others barred her way.
Aunt Xue said, “It looks as if she was poisoned by arsenic. We certainly have none here. No matter whether it was Xiangling or Baochan, someone must have bought it for her. After investigation the authorities are sure to find out. The culprit can’t get away. Now let’s lay her out properly ready for the inquest.”
As the women-servants set about doing this, Baochai proposed, “You should clear away those feminine articles—there will be men coming in.”
Then, under the mattress on the kang, they discovered a crumpled paper packet. Jingui’s mother pounced on this and opened it, but finding nothing in it threw it away.
“There’s the evidence all right!” exclaimed Baochan. “I recognize this packet. A few days ago, when we were plagued by rats, my mistress went to ask her brother for some arsenic and on her return put it in her jewel case. Xiangling must have seen it and used it to poison her. If you don’t believe me, look in the jewel case.”
Jingui’s mother did so, but found nothing there except a few silver hairpins.
“Where have all her trinkets gone to?” wondered Aunt Xue. Baochai made servants open the cases and cabinets, but all were empty.
“Who took my sister-in-law’s things?” she asked. “Baochan must answer for this.”
“How should she know?” asked Jingui’s mother uneasily.
“Don’t say that, madam,” put in Mrs. Zhou. “I know Baochan was with her all the time. Of course she must know.”
Under such pressure, Baochan could not deny it and had to confess, “My mistress always took something each time she went home. How could I stop her?”
“A fine mother you are!” the rest jeered at Mrs. Xia. “Squeezing your daughter till she had nothing left, then making her kill herself so that you could blackmail us! Very well, we’ll report this at the inquest.”
Baochai ordered a maid, “Go and ask Master Lian outside not to let any of the Xia household get away. In the inner room Mrs. Xia was on pins and needles.
“You bitch!” she swore at Baochan. “Stop blabbing! When did my daughter ever take things home?”
“The things don’t matter,” countered Baochan. “What’s important is to find out who murdered her.”
“Once we’ve found those things, we shall know who murdered her,” Baoqin declared. “Hurry up and ask Cousin Lian to check up on the arsenic her son bought, then report it to the authorities.”
“This Baochan must have lost her mind, talking such rubbish,” protested Jingui’s mother frantically. “My daughter never bought any arsenic. If Baochan says this, she must have poisoned her!”
In desperation Baochan started shouting, “Other people may accuse me falsely, but how can you! Many’s the time I heard you tell your daughter not to take things lying down but to raise a rumpus and ruin their family, then move out bag and baggage and marry a better man. Did you tell her that or not?”
Before Mrs. Xia could speak Zhou Rui’s wife chimed in, “When one of your own servants bears witness against you, how can you deny it?”
Gnashing her teeth Mrs. Xia swore at Baochan, “I never treated you badly! Do you want to be the death of me talking that way? When the officers come, I’ll tell them you were the one who poisoned my daughter!”
Baochan’s eyes nearly started out of her head for fury. “Madam,” she begged Aunt Xue, “please let Xiangling go. We shouldn’t wrong innocent people. I know what to say when I’m interrogated.”
Hearing this, Baochai told them to untie Baochan instead. “An easy-going girl like you, why get yourself involved needlessly?” she asked. “If you know something, speak out and be done with it so that we can get his straight.”
Afraid that if it came to an interrogation she might be tortured, Baochan old them, “My mistress was forever complaining, ‘With my looks, why should I have to have such a senseless mother, who instead of marrying me to Master Ke gave me to that stupid ruffian! If I could spend a day with Master Ke, I’d die content!’ That’s what made her hate Xiangling. At first I didn’t realize this, and later when she was good to Xiangling I supposed it was because Xiangling had won her round. I thought she ordered that soup out of kindness....”
“This is even greater nonsense!” fumed Jingui’s mother. “If she wanted to poison Xiangling, why should she get poisoned herself?”
Baochai asked, “Xiangling, did you drink that soup yesterday?”
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p; “A few days ago I was too ill even to raise my head,” Xiangling replied. “When the mistress told me to drink I dared not refuse; but before I could struggle up the soup was spilt and she had to clean up the mess—I felt very bad about it. Yesterday, again, she told me to drink some soup. I didn’t want to, but I had to. Before I could start on it, though, I came over dizzy and to my relief Sister Baochan took the bowl away. I was dozing off when the mistress drank her own soup and told me to try mine, so I forced myself to take a couple of sips....”
Baochan broke in, “That’s it! I’ll tell you the truth. Yesterday the mistress told me to make two bowls of soup for her to drink with Xiangling. I was furious! I thought: Who is Xiangling that I should make soup for her! So, on purpose, I put an extra handful of salt in one of the bowls and marked it secretly, meaning that one for Xiangling. But as I carried it in the mistress stopped me and sent me to tell a page to order a carriage, as she wanted to go home. When I came back from this errand, I saw the bowl I’d marked in front of the mistress. I was afraid she’d scold me for over-salting it, and didn’t know what to do; but then she moved to the back of the room, and while she wasn’t looking I changed the bowls round. Well, it served her right! She came back and carried the soup to Xiangling’s bed, saying while she drank her bowl, ‘You must at least taste this.’ Xiangling didn’t seem to find it too salty, and they both finished their bowls while I laughed up my sleeve at Xiangling for not noticing the salt. How was I to know that my devilish mistress wanted to poison her? She must have put in the arsenic while I was out, then didn’t know that I’d changed the bowls around. Truly, ‘Heaven is just, and each reaps as he has sown.’“
The others thought over the sequence of events and could find no flaw in her story. They untied Xiangling too and made her lie down in bed.
But in spite of these incriminating facts Jingui’s mother went on protesting, whereupon Aunt Xue and the others, all talking together, insisted that her son must pay with his life for the murder.
Jia Lian called from outside, “There’s no need to argue. Get everything cleared up quickly. The officers from the Board of Punishments are coming.”
This flustered Mrs. Xia and her son, who foresaw dire consequences.
“It’s all the fault of my dead daughter,” Mrs. Xia had to plead with Aunt Xue. “She brought this on herself. If we let them hold an inquest, it will reflect badly on your family too. Do hush the business up, madam!”
“That’s impossible,” said Baochai. “We’ve already reported it; how can it be hushed up?”
Zhou Rui’s wife intervened, “The only way to hush the matter up is for Mrs. Xia herself to call off the inquest, in which case we shall say no more about it.”
Jia Lian outside had also intimidated the son so that he was only too willing to go to the Board of Punishments to sign a statement that no inquest was needed as the cause of death was clear and to promise not to bring any suit later on. And to this the others agreed. Aunt Xue sent to buy a coffin for Jingui—but no more of this.
Let us return to Jia Yucun, who had now been promoted to be prefect of the capital in charge of taxation. One day he went out of the city to check on the acreage of arable land, and passing through the County of Esoteric Understanding he reached the ford in the Stream of Rapid Reversal. He made his chair-bearers stop there to wait for his retinue. And seeing a small temple by the village, its crumbling walls revealing some hoary pines, he sauntered towards it. The gold had flaked off the images inside, and the hall was rickety. On one side was a broken tablet, but he could not decipher the half-obliterated inscription on it.
He decided to stroll to the back. In the shade of a green cypress there he saw a thatched hut in which a Taoist priest was sitting cross-legged, his eyes closed in meditation. As Yucun went closer, the man’s face struck him as familiar and he suspected that they had met before, though he could not remember where. His attendants wanted to rouse the priest by shouting, but he stopped them. Walking slowly towards him he called out a greeting.
The Taoist opened his eyes a crack and asked with a smile, “What brings you here, Your Honour?”
“I have come from the capital on a tour of inspection, and happened to pass this way. Seeing you meditating so tranquilly, I felt sure you must have a profound understanding of the Way and would therefore like to make so bold as to ask for your instructions.”
“Our coming and our going—each has its predestined place,” was the Taoist’s reply.
Sensing that this was no ordinary priest, Yucun bowed low and asked, “Where have you been practising virtue, venerable master? And why are you staying here? What is the name of this temple? How many inmates has it? Are there not holy mountains where you could cultivate Truth? Or if you want to do virtuous deeds, why not choose somewhere more accessible?”
The Taoist replied, “A gourd is shelter enough for me, I need no holy mountains. The name of this temple has long been lost, but the broken tablet remains; and since the shadow follows the form, why should I ask for alms to have the temple repaired? ‘The jade in the box hopes to fetch a good price; the pin in the casket longs to soar on high’— that doesn’t apply to me.”
Yucun was quick-witted. The mention of “gourd,” “jade” and “pin” at once reminded him of Zhen Shiyin, and looking more intently at the Taoist he recognized him.
“Aren’t you old Mr. Zhen, sir?” he asked, after motioning his attendants to withdraw.
With a faint smile the Taoist answered, “Why talk about zhen (true) and jia (false)? They are the same.”
The word jia, a homonym for Yucun’s surname, confirmed his conjecture. He bowed again and said, “Since you generously helped me to go to the capital, I was lucky enough to pass the examination and was assigned to your honourable district. Only then did I learn that you, venerable sir, had left the dusty world and become an immortal. Although I longed to trace you, I feared that as a mundane, vulgar official I would never see your saintly countenance again. I am overjoyed at this encounter here! I beg you, venerable saint, to instruct the ignorant. If you do not spurn me, my house in the capital is near at hand and I would count it an honour to entertain you there so that I can hear your instructions every day.”
The Taoist rose to return his bow and replied, “I know of nothing in this world but my hassock. What Your Honour just said completely passes this poor priest’s understanding.” With that he sat down again.
Yucun thought dubiously, “If he isn’t Zhen Shiyin how is it that he looks and talks just like him? We haven’t met for nineteen years, yet he appears unchanged. It must be because he has achieved immortality that he’s unwilling to disclose his past. But now that I have found my benefactor, I can’t let slip this opportunity. Evidently he’s not to be tempted by wealth or rank, much less by mention of his wife and daughter.”
“How can I bear it, saintly teacher,” he said, “if you draw a veil over your past?”
He was about to bow again when one of his servants came to report, “It is growing dark, sir, high time to cross the ford.”
As Yucun hesitated the Taoist said, “Pray lose no time in crossing, Your Honour. We shall meet again. If you delay, a storm may spring up. If you really wish to see me, I shall wait for you some other day at he ford.” With that he sat down again and closed his eyes.
Jia Yucun had no choice but to say goodbye to the priest and leave the temple. He was about to cross the ford when someone came rushing towards him. If you want to know who it was, read the next chapter.
Chapter 104
The Drunken Diamond Brags That Small Fry Can Stir Up Big Billows
A Crazy Lordling Grieves over the Past
As Jia Yucun was about to cross the ford someone rushed up to him.
“Your Honour!” this man, one of his runners, exclaimed. “That temple you just visited is on fire!”
Yucun turned to see flames leaping skyward and the sun blotted out by smoke and dust.
“How extraordinary!” he thought.
“I’ve barely left the place, How could this blaze have started? I hope this hasn’t done for Zhen Shiyin!”
He felt an urge to go back but did not want to delay his tour of inspection; yet he could not set his mind at rest without investigating. After a moment’s reflection he asked. “Did you see that old Taoist leave the temple?”
“I followed you out. Your Honour, “said the man. “Then I had the gripes and had to relieve myself. When I turned I saw flames—the temple had caught fire—so I hurried here to report it. I didn’t see anybody leaving the place.”
Although Yucun was worried, his own career was his first concern and he did not want to turn back.
“You stay here till the fire burns out,” he ordered. “Then go in to see whether the old priest was trapped or not, and come back to report to me.”
The man assented and remained behind while Yucun crossed the river to carry on with his inspection. After checking up on a few districts, he put up in a hostel for the night.
The following day he journeyed another stage and re-entered the capital, runners before him clearing the way while others of his attendants followed behind. Then, seated in his sedan-chair, he heard the men in front shouting angrily and asked them what had happened. One of the runners dragged over a man and made him kneel down before the prefect’s chair.
“This drunkard didn’t get out of the way but came charging at us,” he reported. “When ordered to stop, he put on a drunken act and flopped down in the middle of the road, then accused me of knocking him down.”
“I am in charge of this district,” Yucun announced. “All citizens here come under my jurisdiction. When you saw your prefect coming, you were too drunk to make way yet had the nerve to make false accusations!”
“I buy drink with my own money,” retorted the fellow. “When I’m tipsy it’s the Emperor’s land I lie down on. Not even high officials can interfere.”