At the behest of the Emperor, Weigong accompanied me into town. We went by foot; at last I could immerse myself in first impressions of Peking’s lively outskirts. Despite the opportunity, I hardly took notice. On our way downtown, the eunuch informed me that supervisors of the letter-traffic to and from your pavilion have become increasingly vigilant; he volunteered to act as a secret courier.
His words were music to my ears. Promptly, I felt for my purse, but Weigong stopped me short. ‘It’s for the Cause,’ he said gravely. ‘And for Love! I know what it’s like to lose it, my good sir.’
I glanced sideways at him. ‘Have you lost a loved one, Weigong?’
His face went crimson. ‘No, I haven’t really lost her—and Heaven knows how much that hurts.’
His words moved me to the marrow. Weigong was no Emperor’s slave—far from it. Not only does this young man, maimed by no fault of his own, evince an independent spirit, he is also sincere—the reverse of underhanded.
Thanks to him, my hopes flared. The closure of the embassy may be a shame in world history, Baoqin, but for us it may betide happiness. For now I can ask you—contrary to Imperial whim—to travel by my side to freedom. Let us ignore the Emperor’s orders and bribe our way out! Join me as an interpreter, I entreat you, and leave the country with me!
Lady Cao, also known as Lin Daiyu,
To the ghost of Cao Xueqin
It is not the gaudy pagoda at the Summer Palace that harbours the God of Literature but your book, Xueqin! I miss you so. Years have passed by and I still miss you. Your jokes, your wisdom, your tenderness… I even miss your sullen resignation. For me, it has always been you, only you—and it would still be you, if only you were alive,although you would have been eighty by now.
Pavilion days will soon be over: the Qianlong Emperor is to renounce the Dragon Throne and his strongman is about to lose his head—two more days and I’m free.
Freedom! Like rice wine, it fills my head. Oh Xueqin, whisper wisdom in my ear: What am I to do? Venture with the Dutch envoy Ti Qing into the unknown? His letters contain little in the way of reassurance, even if he did offer to marry me. Ti Qing is no stranger; I once was the privileged member of his household staff. Now, he has been told to leave China. A slight setback, perhaps, but hardly of consequence: somewhere in this wide world, opportunity will soon be knocking on his door. The one thing he lacks in life is a woman by his side. He has been quick to call our Emperor a tyrant, but in the end I know he will comply with the tyrant to obtain the prize of marrying me—especially since his plan to bribe our way out of China is a foolhardy one.
My beloved Xueqin! Since your long-lamented decease, kings have been deposed, wars have been waged, nations have been founded, unheard-of inventions have trans-figured the face of the world—or so says Ti Qing, and I believe him. I believe everything he says; I even believe his heart to be devoted to mine. And I wonder: is it Love? Names are no real names, spoke the Sage, and Change is Life’s primal Law, even in our land. Nevertheless, old and stifling habits linger, as do corrupt officials and petty-minded Emperors. And so, change perforce manifests itself as dilapidation and rot, because All-Under-Heaven is subject to change—even in China.
The one thing that will never change, the one truly immutable thing, is my undying love for you. Yet you are dead, Xueqin, and my heart is torn. I am fearful to hurl myself into an ill-starred adventure with a foreigner. Sucha move will seal my fate, and China shall change overnight, as soon as that vessel whisks me off into the Unknown. Standing on deck, I should wave the shoreline goodbye; all of a sudden, China would no longer fester with corruption and rot. It would fill my entire horizon. In a mist of tears,it would resurface as a glittering world of merriment and sorrow, harsh beauty and alluring grace—the world that was our shared dream once, Xueqin. Now, it is forever sealed, soon to sink into oblivion.
Yes, my heart is torn asunder. There can be no employment, let alone fulfilment for female Chinese interpreters beyond China’s confines, save helping Ti Qing translate Dream of the Red Chamber, or rather, the Gao E concoction that mocks your true dream, the dream that never was to be.
I am wedged between death and oblivion. You are dead, Xueqin, while the other man will kill me—out of love—by hurling me into the Unknown; the glittering horizon will drown in endless grey waves…
Should I forget Ti Qing?
Another opportunity presents itself, an escape perhaps, and it is coming from Ming-loyalist quarters: White Lotus! Once in our midst, Old Second Concubine Chun Xian’s letter tells me, you will find ample time and quiet to complete your novel. A dream come true at last! Now that I am offered the opportunity to finish my own fiction, I must be out of my wits to even think about hurling myself into a shaky adventure with the foreign envoy Ti Qing! And yet, do I belong with the White Lotus, Xueqin?
You, a staunch Ming-loyalist, are likely to affirm that I do. Besides, you know how crucial it is for me to wield the reed-pen: you’re the only man who fully appreciates my ‘crime’, this crime being the only way to soothe my restive heart and to pay homage to our shared memories! This is a golden opportunity, I keep admonishing myself. Seize it!
But I remain suspicious of Weigong’s proximity to the Emperor—despite Chun Xian’s recommendation and Isaac’s total trust. I wish I were as guileless as the Dutch envoy. Lady Chun is so dear to me. How I wish I could bury my galling suspicion—of both Weigong and of Chun Xian herself!
Isn’t it remarkable, to say the least, that an old and venerable Lady, who spent her entire life in the Forbidden City, should all of a sudden be surrounded by a bevy of Lotuses? And while I ponder this oddity, suspicion mounts. The Emperor knows of Chun’s whereabouts, knows which secret society admitted her. Maybe He held the old concubine in awe, and I daresay he had cause for repentance. Still, it was the Emperor himself who gave her leave to join the arch-enemy!
The main issue is this: is Weigong acting on behest of the Emperor or not? Does he play doubles?
And isn’t it peculiar that the White Lotus kidnapping scheme almost coincides with my official release? I must be a decoy, meant to help those banner men to track White Lotus down. Maybe those kidnappers are in truth Heshen people, intent on currying favour with the Court now that their leader is doomed.
Oh, I must be raving, dearest Xueqin! You remain silent—and I blame you not. Spirits have concerns for matters other than those which afflict mortals; besides, you had your share of worries whilst in the sublunary realm. Only now do I fully fathom your perilous position, being a Ming-loyalist in secret. The Cao clan had fallen into disfavour at the Court—in their capacity of Tax Commissioners, their incapacities soon taxed the late Emperor’s short-tempered patience. After their fall, many of your relatives still occupied positions—albeit humble ones—in the Imperial service; some even went up for the Imperial exams. Oh, the blessings of bribery! In this milieu of career rats and fearful sycophants, no one stood by you: even favourite cousin Tianyou never went along with your Ming-loyalist leanings. You expected the dynasty to lose Heaven’s Favour; in fact your family forfeited the favourof Kangxi’s successor, that formidable Ruler of the Yongzheng era, the current Emperor’s father, the one who destroyed the last pockets of the Ming insurgency and had the heads of decapitated peasant leaders stuck on pointed poles to frighten the last rebels into obedience.
You yourself were frightened; I know it now. Rarely did you discuss affairs of State with anyone, and when you did I was your sole listener. Even so, your ideas had a way of trickling into the novel. The Garden of Wide Perspectives(as envoy Ti Qing calls it), built at the cost of untold fortunes, was dedicated to that poor girl appointed as Imperial Concubine: she and her vast retinue of ladies-in-waiting were to be received by her next of kin in grand style, to be received for one day only, served by all the members of her beloved family, whom she was never to see again during the remainder of her days.
Ever since, that lush garden has been inhabited by Jia Baoyu, the maidens, and the maidservants who belonged to the clan: a vision lingering in the fancy of elderly gentlemen who dream of elegant girls. Not one of these gentlemen, as you often railed, realized that the alluring elegance concubines remind them of could thrive only in a civilised world, a world of magnanimous lustre, where Ladies may move as they please—in brief, a world that perished when the last Ming Emperor hanged himself, while Peking was being brutally sacked.
In the dead of night, I cannot sleep. I think of you, my love, hour after hour. For I loved you, Xueqin—nay, love you still. After your body I lust in vain; even so, your soul is with me now. Yes, your soul accompanies me while re-reading our favourite episodes, while recalling our nocturnal pleasures.
No memories will bring your body back.
Since you passed away I have known lust, yet its fulfilment brings no peace. It is you I want. You entered me: a stab of pain flared through my loins. Over time, I got used to the pain, anticipating what followed it. Do I wish for that pain, do I want it back, the violence of our fusion? No. And yet I do. When you saw my body arching in convulsion, you gently stroked my belly with the tip of one finger. This tiny, tender gesture stands out in my recollection: poignant pain, soon dissolving into delight. Powerless, I underwent your thrusts, and yet I exerted power over you—while your proud manhood lost itself in my Great Within.
Old Chun Xian once said that all men are different—till lust takes them hostage. Then it is as if demons lurk on rooftops, who, merely by mumbling spells, turn men into savage pigs. And the hero in your book, no longer a child but not yet an adult, shares Chun Xian’s convictions that men are driven by lust alone. For Baoyu believes girls are made of water and boys are made of dung. He considers himself unworthy of the fairer sex: Daiyu’s slightest reproach unhinges him; he will go to any lengths to regain her favour once more…
Often, I detected in such episodes youthful versions of our tiffs, and I couldn’t help smiling. Time and again, Baoyu is dismayed, discouraged, and rebuked, yet he remains undeterred in his resolve to bask in Daiyu’s presence—or rather, to be near any of those alluring creatures who dwell in the garden after Imperial Concubine Jia Yuanchun left her sisters for good—even if fresh reprimands await him. Baoyu is hoping that some of those maidenly charms will come his way perchance—at least, that’s what you wrote in the novel. But frankly, I don’t believe a word of it. You never thought of your favourite male cousin Tianyou as dung, did you? Seriously, Xueqin: did you, deep down, harbour the conviction that women are purer than men? Since I dwelt in the Pavilion of Forgotten Concubines I have parted from such illusions. The feminine spirit, curtailed in public life, is capable of villainous machinations behind the screens. Though, I hasten to add, women are capable of breaking bad habits too—Chun Xian being the prime example. She shed the malignant misery in which she had been wallowing for decades—just like that!
Men are rigid. Men are simple. They skirmish over power, prestige, constrained and defined by the loss of face. They do not seek to crush each other’s souls: they are incapable of doing so, they lack the intricate cruelty to which women may resort. And if I may lose myself in speculation: perhaps nature equipped men with a swinish temperament to render them complicated after all—to us fanciful women, that is.
When all is said and done—examinations passed, battles won, courtships rewarded—a man wants one thing only. This single, blind impulse, oblivious of everything and never heeding seemliness, is the mystery as well as the simplicity of the male. And perhaps Baoyu sought to be rid of the male burden by partaking in the lives of budding females, while they in turn scold him because he, in his very attempt to blend in with those lovely creatures, responds to his deepest desires, even succumbs at times. Such are the ruminations with which I fill my sleepless nights, Xueqin. But when I recall the both of us, thirty years ago, I never think of swine. I think of happiness. I loved you.
Tell me, Xueqin, did you love me? Or did you find in me the loved one of your youth?
It’s stuffy in here. The concubines are fast asleep. I shall dip the reed-pen in the water, store the ink-stone, and take this letter to the pavilion courtyard. It is accessible now, even in the dead of night: in times of trouble, supervision is the first thing to go.
Frost is biting my cheeks. I’m going to make a fire—forbidden after midnight, even when kindled in the safety of a barrel—and these words will be carried away by the flames: cares and worries, even yearning, shall forever be banned from the remembrance of our everlasting love. It matters no more that your body hurt mine: our souls were one.
And while this paper gets charred at the corners, curling up in heat and smoke, I know our souls will always be one, until the end of my days—until I tread my way to meet you at yonder Yellow Springs.
Imperial Decree 30076, revision of Decree 29119
on the Heshen verdict, the Dutch embassy,
and Lady Cao and concubines
We, Emperor of the Qianlong Period, on the eve of Our resignation, looking back on a long and prosperous reign whilst reflecting on Our many failings and imperfections, have, after careful consideration, decided to let Grace prevail over Justice, in spite of Imperial Edict 29119. Grand Councillor Heshen will be pardoned: the man has genuinely repented his many missteps. Mindful of his former loyalty, the Court shall restore freedom as well as all former possessions, powers, privileges, and titles to him, confident that Our benevolence will set an example for his exercise of duties henceforth.
The successor to the Dragon Throne has informed Us that he does not deem the Dutch presence in the capital of any further value: the embassy will be closed forthwith. However, We will honour the wish of its former envoy and release Lady Cao, current mistress of Our former consorts. Lady Cao has Our permission to leave the capital. The other Ladies of the Pavilion shall continue to enjoy their privileges of old; moreover, they are at liberty to move through Peking from dawn to midnight, with the proviso they notify gatekeepers of the Forbidden City of their whereabouts. They must be traceable should an emergency arise.
Obey these commands!
Dearest Isaac!
Heshen has been released—and proved too arrogant, and maybe too much of a coward, to come and mock our dashed hopes himself. It took a eunuch—Weigong, whom you met—to learn that the Emperor, in decree 30076, repeals decree 29119.
Heshen, back in power! Not only did the Ruler pardon him and nullify the death sentence, he even restored that man to dignity, whilst you, Ti Qing, under no charge at all, will be dismissed from office! Perhaps it has happened by now. And to make matters more confusing, I am—due to your intercession, or so says the decree—at liberty to go where I please.
‘Why does the Emperor privilege me above my sisters?’ I ask Weigong.
‘Lady Cao,’ says the eunuch with his girl’s voice, ‘Tonight I shall return to answer all your questions, insofar as I am able.’
The concubines objected: ‘Why make us wait so long?’
‘Your ladyships, I must tread carefully: I’m presently expected in the Hall of Heavenly Purity. Even tardiness raises suspicion these days!’
As soon as the eunuch had left us, the entire pavilion was buzzing, in a clutter of confusion. Everyone but me feared for my life, Isaac! Once I was free again, the concubines confided to me in fearful whisperings, those Imperial agents would be sure to shadow me—eager as they were to discover Chun Xian’s whereabouts. I wished I had never disclosed to one of them that I intended to pay Chun Xiana visit. They all knew that Old Second Concubine had found a safe haven with a secret society: the Emperor himself had revealed it to us, after we had pledged never to divulge that society’s name. And they were quick to remind me that Heshen’s cronies might do me untold harm—their leader back in power now, a man whose hatred of me knows no bounds!
Pe
rhaps all this was just envious chatter; even so, some of it rang true. What was I to believe? Amidst the din, I tried to collect my thoughts. Heshen’s many underlings and mercenaries, restored to power overnight, probably gambled—perhaps knew, after perusal of Chun Xian’s letter to me!—that I had a mind to follow in the old Lady’s footsteps. Well might they have concocted a scheme to stamp out the secret society that took her in and use me for that purpose. Besides, it was true that Heshen himself held a grudge against me: his endeavour to compromise me through the ignominious Court Gazette ruse had in fact compromised him, at least temporarily; it had been rumoured that he lost face with many of his former allies, as well as (judging by the outward appearance of things) with our sovereign.
By the way, Isaac, I must be mad to hide that society’s name from you: why honour pledges of secrecy to a perfidious Emperor who bluntly put Heshen back into power? I herewith declare my oath null and void.
Lady Chun is part of White Lotus, Isaac: a band of warrior- heroines, sworn to overthrow the dynasty! For now, they see fit to divert to Macao. They are in flight: it is only a matter of time ere Heshen cajoles the Emperor into a concerted effort to destroy White Lotus to the last woman.
What am I to do?
I wish I had your insight, your powers of perception, Ti Qing! I know I chided you for what I, in my annoyance, was pleased to call your naiveté, but I may have been mistaken. For I cannot deny that this attribute, in you at least, almost has the merit of an independent judgment. You requested my release, and the Emperor granted it: one might have cherished hopes that you, a foreigner, had a favourable influence on Him. But immediately thereafter, He liberated Heshen and dismissed you ignominiously. The opium user who rules us is no longer in command of his wit.
Dearest Ti Qing, worthy Isaac (I don’t even know how to address you properly, as if recent events have enfeebled my Reason as well as the Emperor’s), your triumph was short-lived. You have vanished behind the horizon, or will vanish soon, or you linger in Peking for all I know, either captive or free. I can only hope that you are faring well, though I’m by no means assured of it: the Qianlong-era lapses into chaos, prey to the whim of brute force alone. Communications have come to a standstill; whether these words will reach you I know not. I shall write copies of my letters to you, just in case…
The Pavilion of Forgotten Concubines Page 12