Lady Wang obediently took a seat on a stool-chair beside the kang. She instructed Xi-feng to be her deputy.
‘You can tell them to serve Grandmother’s lunch in here,’ she said to Xi-feng. ‘You had better get them to add a dish or two.’
Having said that she would, Xi-feng went outside and instructed a servant to take word round to Grandmother Jia’s apartment. The old women there passed on the message in their turn, and soon a reinforcement of maids were hurrying on their way to Lady Wang‘s.
Lady Wang next gave instructions that the rest of the girls should be invited; but after a long wait only Tan-chun and Xi-chun turned up. Ying-chun was unwell and did not feel like eating. Dai-yu abstained so frequently – eating perhaps no more than five meals in every ten – that her absence on this occasion was scarcely noticed.
Soon lunch arrived and the servants brought up a low table and set it down on the kang. Xi-feng stood on the floor below, a bundle of ivory chopsticks wrapped up in a tea-towel in her hand.
‘Now, Grannie and Auntie,’ she said, ‘I hope you are going to do as you’re told and not stand on ceremony!’
Grandmother Jia looked at Aunt Xue and smiled.
‘Shall we do as she says and stay put?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ said Aunt Xue, smiling back, whereupon Xi-feng proceeded to lay for them where they sat: two pairs of chopsticks on the far side for Grandmother Jia and Aunt Xue, one pair at either end for Bao-chai and Xiang-yun. Lady Wang and Li Wan stood on the floor below and supervised the serving of the dishes, while Xi-feng called for a set of clean things for one more person and went, chopsticks in hand, from dish to dish, making a selection from them for Bao-yu.
A few minutes later the lotus-leaf soup arrived and was presented to Grandmother Jia for her inspection. Lady Wang, glancing quickly round her, noticed Silver standing near at hand and ordered her to carry a bowl of it to Bao-yu together with the other things that Xi-feng had just put out for him; but Xi-feng objected that there was too much for one person to carry. Just then Oriole and Providence chanced to enter, and Bao-chai, knowing that they had already had their lunch, suggested that Oriole should help with the carrying.
‘Master Bao has been asking if you could go over there to do some knotting for him,’ she told Oriole. ‘You might as well go with her and do it now.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Oriole, and went off with Silver, carrying her share of the bowls.
‘They’re terribly hot,’ she said, when they were alone together. ‘How are we going to carry them so far?’
‘Don’t worry!’ said Silver, ‘I know just the answer.’
She made one of the old women fetch a covered lacquer carrying-box. The bowls of soup, rice and so forth fitted into it easily. She told the old woman to follow them. She and Oriole then sauntered along empty-handed in the direction of Green Delights, while the old woman trotted along behind them carrying everything. When they reached the gate of the courtyard, Silver took the box from her and the two girls went on into the house alone.
They found Aroma, Musk and Ripple in the inner room, enjoying a joke with Bao-yu. The three of them got up, still laughing, when they saw Silver and Oriole enter, and Aroma, supposing that they had come from their respective apartments, remarked, as she relieved Silver of the box, on the coincidence of their arriving simultaneously. Having handed over the box, Silver plumped herself down on a stool-chair; but Oriole was less bold; and even when Aroma offered her a foot-stool to sit on, she still refused to be seated.
Bao-yu was naturally very pleased to see Oriole; but the sight of Silver, reminding him, with a pang of mingled shame and sorrow, of her sister Golden, impelled him to ignore Oriole and concentrate his attention on the other girl. Aroma noticed this neglect and was afraid that Oriole might be offended. Partly for this reason and partly because Oriole looked so uncomfortable standing up, but was evidently determined not to sit down in Bao-yu’s presence, she took her by the hand and drew her into the adjoining room for a cup of tea and a chat.
Meanwhile in the inner room Musk and Ripple had laid out the bowls and chopsticks and were waiting in readiness to serve Bao-yu his lunch; but Bao-yu was still occupied with Silver and seemed in no hurry to begin.
‘How is your mother?’ he asked her.
The girl sat silent, with a sullen, angry look on her face. When, with a muttered ‘all right’, she did at last answer him, she averted her eyes and would not look at him. Bao-yu was very much put out, but did his best to be pleasant.
‘Who told you to bring this for me?’
‘Her Ladyship and Mrs Lian. Who do you think?’
Bao-yu could see the misery in her face and knew that it was because of Golden that she looked like that. He wished he could humble himself before her, but the presence of the other maids inhibited him. He had to think of some way of getting rid of them. Having succeeded at last in doing so, he began, as soon as they were out of the room, to exercise all his charm upon Silver. At first she tried to ignore the questions with which he plied her; but he was so patient and persistent, meeting her unyielding stiffness with such warmth and gentleness, that in the end her heart misgave her and a faintly pleased expression began to steal over her face. Bao-yu judged the time ripe to entreat her smilingly for his lunch.
‘Fetch me that soup will you, there’s a dear. I’d like to try it now.’
‘I can’t feed other people,’ said Silver. ‘I never could. You’ll have to wait till the others come back.’
‘I’m not asking you to feed me,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I’m just asking you to get it for me because I can’t walk. Once you’ve done that you can go back and tell them you’ve finished your errand and get on with your own lunch. I don’t want to keep you from your food: you’re probably starving. However, if you don’t even feel up to passing me a bowl of soup, I’ll just have to put up with the pain and get it myself.’
He tried to rise from his bed, but the effort cost him a cry of pain. Unable to hold out any longer when she saw the state he was in, Silver jumped to her feet.
‘All right. Lie down, lie down!’ she said. ‘ “Past sin, present suffering.” You’ve got your retribution without having to wait for it, so you needn’t expect me to feel sorry for you!’
She broke into a sudden peal of laughter and fetched him the soup.
‘Silver dear,’ said Bao-yu, ‘if you still feel angry with me, get it over with now. Try to look pleasanter when you are with Their Ladyships. You mustn’t look angry all the time when you are with them, or you’ll be getting yourself into trouble.’
‘Go on, get on with your soup!’ said Silver. ‘Keep the sugary stuff for other people. I know all about it!’
Bao-yu drank a couple of mouthfuls of the soup at her insistence, but artfully pretended not to like it.
‘It doesn’t taste nice.’
‘Doesn’t taste nice?’ said Silver with an expression of extreme disgust. ‘Holy Name! if that doesn’t taste nice, I’d like to know what does!’
‘It’s got no flavour,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Taste it yourself, if you don’t believe me.’
Silver – to prove him wrong – indignantly raised the spoon to her lips and tasted.
Bao-yu laughed.
‘Ah, now it’ll taste all right!’
Silver realized that he had deliberately tricked her into drinking from the same bowl.
‘You wouldn’t drink it a moment ago,’ she said, ‘so now you shan’t have any even if you say you want it.’
And though Bao-yu laughingly begged and pleaded, she refused to let him have it back and called in the other maids to give him the rest of his meal. No sooner had they come in, however, than it was announced that ‘two old nannies from Mr Fu’s’ had arrived ‘to call on Master Bao’.
Bao-yu knew that the ‘Mr Fu’ referred to must be one Fu Shi, an Assistant Sub-Prefect who had started life as one of Jia Zheng’s protégés and made his way up in the world largely by trading on Jia Zheng’s reputation. Jia Zheng tho
ught highly of him, regarding him as the brightest of the various young fellows he had patronized, and Fu Shi for his part was assiduous in sending messages and compliments to the mansion in order to keep up the connection.
Now if there were two sorts of people Bao-yu could not at any price abide they were stupid old women and pushing young men. It may therefore seem strange that these two old nannies sent by the egregious Fu Shi should have been accorded instant admission to his sickroom. The reason was that Bao-yu had heard that Fu Shi had a younger sister called Fu Qiu-fang, who, though
a virgin-pearl, still chambered from men’s sight,
was commonly said to be both beautiful and talented. Bao-yu had not actually seen her; but he had formed a picture of her in his imagination and worshipped her from afar. And since to have refused entry to the two old women would have been in his eyes tantamount to offering Qiu-fang an affront, he at once gave orders for them to be admitted.
Qiu-fang was, as a matter of fact, a girl of passable good looks and more than average intelligence. Her brother had entertained hopes of trading on these assets in order to ally himself matrimonially with some powerful or aristocratic family – an ambition which had hitherto led him to look frowningly on lesser offers, with the result that, at the relatively great age of twenty-two, Qiu-fang remained un-betrothed. For the fact of the matter was that the powerful and aristocratic families with whom he sought alliance looked on Fu Shi as an impoverished pen-pusher deficient in both breeding and refinement and showed not the slightest inclination to want his sister as a daughter-in-law. However, Fu Shi went on cultivating his intimacy with the Jia family and was still not without hopes of realizing his ambition in that direction.
It so happened that the two old nannies sent to see Bao-yu on this occasion were exceptionally ignorant old women. Hearing that they were to be admitted, they came into the room, delivered themselves of the sentence or two it took to inquire after his health, and thereafter lapsed into a stupid silence.
With the arrival of strangers, Silver had been obliged to drop the bantering tone she had begun to adopt with Bao-yu and stood, holding the soup-bowl in both her hands, listening in silence. It was left to Bao-yu to make what conversation he could with the women as he continued to eat his lunch. While so engaged, he reached out a hand for the soup, and Silver reciprocated mechanically; but as both of them had their eyes on the visitors, their uncoordinated movements resulted in a brief collision. The bowl was upset and hot soup spilled over Bao-yu’s hand. Silver, startled, though herself unhurt, gave a nervous laugh.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’
The other maids rushed forward to retrieve the bowl. Bao-yu, insensitive to his own pain, inquired anxiously after Silver.
‘Where did you scald yourself? Does it hurt?’
Silver and the rest all laughed.
‘You’re the one who’s been scalded,’ said Silver. ‘Why ask me?’
Only then did Bao-yu become conscious that his own hand had been burned. The maids hurriedly mopped up. Not wishing to continue his meal after this, he washed his hands, drank some tea, and spoke a little longer with the old women, who then took their leave and were seen through the Garden as far as the bridge by Skybright and some of the other maids.
When they found themselves alone, the two old women began discussing the visit with each other as they went along.
‘Well, I’ve heard people say that this Bao-yu is like a bad fruit – good to look at but rotten inside,’ said one of them, ‘and I must say I’m not surprised. He certainly does seem a bit simple. Fancy scalding his own hand and then asking someone else where it hurt! He must be a simpleton! Heh! heh! heh!’
‘He really and truly is a bit simple,’ said the other one. ‘A number of them told me about it when I came here last. Once when he was out in the pouring rain and himself as wet as a drowned chicken, he says to someone, “It’s raining,” he says, “run inside and get out of the rain.” What a laugh! Heh! heh! heh! And he often cries or laughs when no one else is by. They say that when he sees a swallow he talks to the swallow, and when he sees a fish in the river he talks to the fish, and when he sees the stars or the moon, he sighs and groans and mutters away to himself like a crazy thing. And he’s as soft as a baby. Even the little maids can do what they like with him. If he’s in the mood for saving, he’ll make a fuss over a piece of thread; but other times they can smash things worth a fortune and he won’t mind a bit.’
Still talking, they passed out of the gate of the Garden, at which point our narrative leaves them.
Back at Green Delights, Aroma, seeing that the others had now gone, led Oriole into Bao-yu’s room to ask what it was that he wanted done. Bao-yu gave Oriole a smile.
‘I’m sorry, I was busy talking just now,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I neglected you. The reason I’ve dragged you here is because I want you to do some knotting for me.’
‘What’s it for?’ said Oriole.
‘Never mind that,’ said Bao-yu airily. ‘Do me some of every kind.’
Oriole clapped her hands and laughed.
‘Goodness me! That would take me about ten years!’
‘My dear young lady,’ said Bao-yu pleasantly, ‘you have all the time in the world at your disposal. I’m sure you could manage in less time than that.’
‘Not in one sitting, at all events,’ said Aroma. ‘Better choose two or three of the main types and let her do one of each.’
‘If you’re talking about types,’ said Oriole, ‘there are really only three: fan-tassels, rosary-nets and net-and-tassel fringes for sashes.’
‘All right,’ said Bao-yu, ‘a sash-fringe.’
‘What colour’s the sash?’ said Oriole.
‘Crimson.’
‘Black or navy-blue would go well with crimson,’ said Oriole. ‘With anything lighter the crimson would be too overpowering.
‘What goes with viridian?’ said Bao-yu.
‘Peach pink.’
‘Mm. That sounds very colourful, certainly. What about something colourful but a bit more on the quiet side?’
‘What about leek-green and greenish-yellow?’ said Oriole. ‘That’s a very tasteful combination.’
‘All right, you make me those three then: one black, one peach-pink and one leek-green.’
‘What pattern do you want for the netting?’ said Oriole.
‘What patterns are there?’ said Bao-yu.
‘There’s stick-pattern, ladder-pattern, diamond, double diamond, linked rings, flower-pattern, willow-leaf …’
‘What was the pattern of that netting you did the other day for Tan-chun?’
‘Ah, that was a flower-pattern with filled-in centres.’
‘I’d like it in that pattern.’
Aroma had meanwhile left them to fetch the silks. As she came back with them, an old woman called through the window to say that her lunch was ready.
‘Off with you then,’ said Bao-yu, ‘and come back as soon as you have finished.’
‘How can I possibly leave with a guest here in the room?’ said Aroma.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ said Oriole. ‘You go and have your lunch.’
Aroma smiled at that and tripped off, leaving the two of them alone together, except for two very junior maids who were to remain at hand in case they were wanted.
Bao-yu lay and watched Oriole knotting, chatting to her in a desultory way as he watched.
‘How old are you?’ he asked her.
Oriole replied without raising her head from her work.
‘Fourteen.’
‘What’s your surname?’
‘Huang.’
‘Huang? That means “yellow”. It goes well with your name. They say “yellow oriole”, don’t they? – “yellow oriole”, “golden oriole”.’
‘My name was “Golden Oriole” originally,’ said Oriole, ‘but Miss Bao found it too much of a mouthful, so she called me just “Oriole” for short, and now everyone else does.’
‘Miss Bao must be very fond of you,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I expect later on when she gets married she’ll want to take you with her.’
Oriole pulled a face and laughed.
‘I’ve often said to Aroma,’ Bao-yu went on, ‘whoever gets you and your mistress will be a lucky man.’
‘She’s a good person, is our Miss Bao,’ said Oriole, ‘much more than you realize. There are things about her you don’t find in many people in this world – more important things than good looks – though she’s good-looking too, of course.’
Oriole’s mellifluous, lilting voice and the simple, artless way in which she talked and laughed had powerfully affected Bao-yu. It increased his pleasure to hear her speaking in this way now about her mistress.
‘What things?’ he asked her eagerly. ‘Tell me about them.’
‘If I do,’ said Oriole, ‘you mustn’t let her know that I told you.’
‘Of course not.’
They were interrupted at this point by a voice from the outer room.
‘You’re very quiet in there!’
As the two of them simultaneously turned to look, it was Bao-chai herself who stepped into the room. Bao-yu at once invited her to take a seat. When she had done so, she inquired what Oriole was making and leaned forward to inspect it. The first of the three sash-ends was already half completed.
‘What do you want to make a thing like that for?’ she asked. ‘Why don’t you make him a necklet to wear with his jade?’
Bao-yu clapped his hands delightedly. He had intended to ask Oriole to do this for him in the first place, but had forgotten.
‘Clever coz! What a good thing you mentioned it! I’d quite forgotten. But what would be the right colour for it?’
‘Let’s see,’ said Bao-chai. ‘The brighter colours definitely wouldn’t do. Crimson would clash. Yellow wouldn’t be a sufficient contrast. Black would be too heavy. I’ll tell you what. If you were to take a gold thread and a very fine black bugle-thread and twist them together – that would look nice.’
Bao-yu was delighted with the suggestion, and shouted several times for Aroma to fetch the gold thread. She came in while he was still shouting for her, carrying two plates of food and looking puzzled.