The Pavilion of Forgotten Concubines

by Wiersinga, Pim;

  Dream of the Red Chamber—I wonder how the title will sound in the Franguo tongue! The revenues will, I hope, pay for translations throughout the West; but please, please, return the Chinese original back to my Macao address as soon as the first translation is completed. Perhaps Chun Xian might stave off death long enough to read it! Once the Dream acquires notoriety amongst foreign devils it will conquer China too—no Chief Censor, no Grand Councillor, no Emperor will ever stop this tidal wave.

  With this bulky pack I send my love to you. We shall meet again, dearest Ti Qing—I am sure we will. Peking can’t be the crown on your career. What you should know is that I sought out the Dutch representative here in the hope of tracing your whereabouts; it transpired that there was no representative in Macao, let alone an embassy! Heaven must have ordained it so. For you must set it up—double quick!

  While we embrace, I as a body, Ti Qing as a phantom, among the potted orange trees on the roof-terrace while the sea is sighing gently, I notice you, Meilong, in the corner of my eye. Trying to slip away unnoticed—off to the Censor I’m sure, you rascal with your girlish fragrance! And you promised to cut the rhubarb!

  Off you go then, go, endure it yourself: Illusion is Truth as long as True Love’s an Illusion. And my eyes are running with tears spilled over your innocence, my innocence; over life that cannot be caged.