‘Yes,’ said Qiao-jie, and Bao-yu went on:
‘For Talent, we have the lady-historian Ban Zhao, Ban Jie-yu literary concubine of Emperor Cheng-di of Han, and the two poetesses Cai Wen-ji and Xie Dao-yun.’
‘What about Paragons of Virtue?’ asked Qiao-jie.
‘Now let me see,’ replied Bao-yu, ‘for Virtue we have Meng Guang, the wife who wore a wooden hairpin and cotton skirts; we have Bao Xuan’s wife, who drew her own water from the well, and Tao Kan’s mother, who cut off her hair to buy wine for her son’s guests. their Virtue lay in their Acceptance of Poverty.’
Qiao-jie nodded her head enthusiastically.
‘Then we have the famous cases of Hardship Endured,’ continued Bao-yu. ‘Princess Le-chang, who after a cruel separation was reunited with her husband by the stratagem of the broken mirror; and Su Hui, who embroidered a lengthy palindrome to send to her husband exiled in the wastes of Tartary. Then come the Paragons of Filial Piety: Mu Lan marching to war in her ailing father’s place, Cao E throwing herself into the river after a fruitless search for her father’s corpse – and many others besides…’
Qiao-jie had become very quiet and thoughtful, and when Bao-yu went on to recount the tale of Lady Cao who after her husband’s death cut off her nose to deter any further suitors, and other tales of Widowed Virtue, her little face became more serious than ever. Thinking this might all be making her feel uncomfortable, Bao-yu introduced an apocryphal category of his own invention:
‘Then of course we have the Famous Beauties, romantic ladies such as Wang Zhao-jun, Xi-shi, Cherry Lips, Willow Waist, Crimson Fairy, Zhuo Wen-jun, Red Duster – all of these were…’
‘Enough!’ interrupted Grandmother Jia, seeing the blank look on Qiao-jie’s face. ‘No more! You’ve filled the poor child’s head to overflowing. How can she possibly remember all those names?’
‘I recognize some of the names Uncle Bao mentioned,’ said Qiao-jie. ‘And his talk has certainly helped me to understand the ones I know.’
‘I don’t think we need bother going over the written characters for all those names,’ said Bao-yu. ‘I’m sure you know them.’
‘Mama said that our Crimson used to be one of your maids,’ said Qiao-jie out of the blue. ‘And she says she still hasn’t found you anyone to replace her. She’s thinking of giving you Mrs Liu’s daughter, Fivey I think her name is, if you’re happy about it…’
Bao-yu was delighted to hear this and said with a grin:
‘Your mother doesn’t have to ask me about things like that. She makes all the decisions.’
He turned with a smile to Grandmother Jia.
‘My young niece shows every sign of growing up to be a second Cousin Feng. Only I think she may be even cleverer, and will have the added advantage of being able to read.’
‘I’ve no objection to girls learning their letters,’ commented Grandmother Jia. ‘But needlework must always come first.’
‘Nannie Liu teaches me embroidery,’ said Qiao-jie. ‘I can do flowers and chain-patterns. I’m not very good yet, but I’m learning.’
‘In a family like ours,’ said Grandmother Jia, ‘we never need to do our own sewing, I know. But it’s as well to know how. Then you will never be at the mercy of others.’
‘Yes, Great-grannie,’ Qiao-jie smilingly replied. She would have welcomed some more Paragons of Virtue, but thought Bao-yu looked a little preoccupied and did not venture to ask.
What was preoccupying Bao-yu? The answer lies in Qiao-jie’s mention of Fivey. This attractive girl had been originally designated for Green Delights, but one obstacle after another had so far prevented her from entering service there. First it had been illness; then they had been wary of choosing a good-looking maid for Bao-yu in the puritanical phase that followed on Lady Wang’s expulsion of Skybright. A further opportunity of seeing her had presented itself when she and her mother had arrived with gifts during his secret visit to Skybright at her cousin’s house – and his earlier favourable impression of her had been confirmed. She really was extremely pretty. What marvellous luck that Xi-feng should have remembered her now, and was arranging for her to take Crimson’s place!
While Bao-yu was day-dreaming, Grandmother Jia was becoming more and more impatient at the lateness of her guests and sent word to hurry them along. A few minutes later the first contingent arrived: Li Wan and her two cousins Wen and Qi, Tan-chun, Xi-chun, Shi Xiang-yun and Lin Dai-yu. They all paid their respects to Grandmother Jia and greeted one another. Aunt Xue had still not come, and Grandmother Jia sent for her. Finally she arrived, accompanied by Bao-qin. Bao-yu paid his respects, and said hello to Bao-qin, wondering why it was that neither Bao-chai nor Xing Xiu-yan had come. When Dai-yu asked outright, ‘Why couldn’t Cousin Chai come today?’, Aunt Xue pretended that she was not feeling well. Xiu-yan had stayed away because she knew that Aunt Xue (her future mother-in-law) would be there. Bao-chai’s absence caused a momentary depression in Bao-yu’s spirits, which was however soon dispelled by the presence of Dai-yu.
Lady Xing and Lady Wang arrived shortly afterwards. Xi-feng, who heard that they were there before her and was embarrassed at the thought of being late, sent Patience ahead to apologize for her.
‘Mrs Lian was meaning to come, but she has had a bit of a fever and won’t be coming till later,’ said Patience.
‘If she’s not feeling well, she needn’t bother to come at all,’ said Grandmother Jia. ‘We ought to start our lunch now.’
The maids moved the charcoal brazier to the back of the room and placed two tables in front of Grandmother Jia’s couch, at which the party now arranged itself for lunch. After lunch they sat once more round the brazier chatting pleasantly, and there for the present we must leave them.
*
What was really detaining Xi-feng? It had at first been no more than her embarrassment at being later than Ladies Xing and Wang. But this had been further complicated by the arrival of Brightie’s wife, who informed her that one of Ying-chun’s woman-servants had come to pay her respects. The woman had come straight to Xi-feng’s apartment and had not notified the main mansion of her presence. Xi-feng was puzzled, and summoned her into the room.
‘Is your mistress well?’ she asked.
‘Anything but well,’ replied the woman. ‘But that’s not what I’ve come about, ma’am. Really it was Chess’s mother who begged me to come and ask you for a favour.’
‘But Chess has been dismissed,’ said Xi-feng. ‘What have her affairs to do with me now?’
‘It’s a long story, ma’am. From the day she was dismissed Chess did nothing but cry her heart out. Then one day that cousin of hers, her boy-friend Pan You-an, turned up again. Her mother was terribly rude to him when she saw him, swearing that he’d been her daughter’s ruin. She took hold of him and tried to hit him, while he stood there meek and mild not saying a word. Chess heard what was going on and came rushing out and cried defiantly: “It was because of him I was dismissed – I don’t need reminding! I know he acted wrong! But now that he’s come back, why start hitting him? You may as well strangle me instead…” “You shameless slut!” cries the mother, “what do you want then?” “A girl can only marry once,” replies Chess defiantly. “It was my mistake, I let him take me, and right or wrong I’m his now and no one else shall have me. If he could only have shown a little more courage then and stood by me instead of running away! But I’d wait for him now even if I had to die waiting. I’d rather die than let you marry me to someone else. Now that he’s here, ask him if he’ll take me for his wife. If he still wants me, I’ll make you my farewell kotow and you can forget that I ever existed. I’ll follow him to the ends of the earth. I’ll beg in the streets if need be!” This put her mother in a terrible rage. Weeping and cursing she cried: “You’re my daughter and if I say you can’t marry him then you can’t, and that’s that!” But Chess was an obstinate creature. No sooner had her mother said this than she took a run at the wall and dashed her head against it. She split
her skull open, the blood came pouring out and in a moment she was dead! Her mother began howling, but it was too late. Next she started screaming at him that he’d have to pay with his life. He replied – and this is the strangest part of the story – “Don’t worry. I’m a wealthy man now. I never forgot your daughter, and came back today to find her. I have always been true to her. To prove that I’m telling no lie…” As he said this he brought out a casket from inside his gown, full of gold and precious stones. One look at them and Chess’s mother changed her tune. “Why oh why didn’t you say all this earlier?” she asked. “I know the ways of women,” he replied, “how easily swayed they are by the idea of wealth. Now at least I know for sure that she was a girl in a million. These are yours,” he added, handing her the casket. “I will go and buy the coffin now, and see to it that she is buried properly.” The mother took the casket and left all the arrangements to her nephew. She seemed to have quite forgotten about Chess. When he returned, she saw to her astonishment that the bearers he had employed were bringing not one but two coffins. She asked him what he needed two coffins for, and he replied with a strange laugh that one would not be enough. He showed not the least sign of crying, and the mother decided his mind must have been deranged by the shock of his grief. For a while he was busy preparing Chess’s corpse, dry-eyed and silent, when all of a sudden before anyone had time to take in what was happening he pulled out a knife and slit his throat and that was the end of him. The mother realized too late what a terrible thing she had done, and broke down in floods of tears. The whole neighbourhood knows, and they want to report the case to the magistrate. In her distress she begged me to ask you to use your influence to help her, ma’am, and said she would come herself and kotow to you in gratitude.’
‘What a story!’ exclaimed Xi-feng, aghast at this recital. ‘That fate should have brought two such examples of folly together! Now I understand that look of calm indifference on her face when she was caught during the search of the Garden. What a determined young thing she must have been at heart. I don’t really have time to meddle in such things, but your story has touched my heart! Tell her mother that I will speak to Mr Lian and send Brightie to sort the thing out for her.’
Xi-feng sent the woman on her way and herself departed to join the gathering at Grandmother Jia’s.
*
One day, Jia Zheng was engrossed in a game of Go with one of his literary gentlemen, Zhan Guang. It had been quite a level game, and the outcome now hung on a ko that was in progress on one corner of the board. As they were playing, a page from the gate came in to report that Mr Feng had arrived and was waiting outside to see Sir Zheng.
‘See him in,’ instructed Jia Zheng.
The page did as bidden and Feng Zi-ying was shortly to be observed walking in through the inner gateway. Jia Zheng hurried out to receive him and conducted him through to the study. As he sat down, Feng noticed that they were playing Go.
‘Please carry on with your game,’ he said. ‘I shall be very happy to watch.’
‘My poor play is hardly a worthy spectacle for so distinguished an observer,’ protested Zhan Guang with an obsequious smile.
‘You are too modest,’ said Feng. ‘Carry on please.’
‘What brings you here today?’ inquired Jia Zheng.
‘Oh, nothing of any importance,’ replied Feng. ‘Carry on, sir. I shall benefit greatly from watching your play.’
Jia Zheng turned to his partner.
‘As Feng is an old friend and has not come on any pressing business, we may as well finish our game first. He can sit and watch.’
‘Are you playing for stakes?’ asked Feng.
‘We are,’ replied Zhan Guang.
Then silence! On with the game!’
‘I don’t think we need be too strict about that,’ said Jia Zheng. ‘I may be a dozen taels up by the end, but I doubt very much if I shall see the colour of my money. I think friend Zhan will have to stand us a few drinks instead.’
‘An excellent idea,’ said Zhan with a laugh.
‘Are you and friend Zhan on a par, sir?’ inquired Feng.
Jia Zheng laughed.
‘We used to play level, but he always lost, so I gave him a handicap of two. He still loses. And the trouble is, he thinks he can take his moves back all the time, and gets quite upset when I wave the rules at him.’
Zhan laughed.
‘You exaggerate, Sir Zheng…’
‘Well, we shall see…’
On this note of light-hearted banter, they continued their game. When it was finished and they counted up the pieces, Zhan was seven down.
‘It all depended on that last ko,’ commented Feng. ‘You gained the advantage, sir, because you were less vulnerable to a ko threat.’
Jia Zheng turned to Feng.
‘Please forgive us. How are you keeping?’
‘It has been a long while since we last met,’ said Feng. ‘My visit today is partly of a social nature, and partly occasioned by the presence in the capital of a deputy-prefect from Kwangsi province, who is here for an audience with His Majesty and has brought with him four curios, some of them imported, that would make excellent palace-offerings. The first is a folding screen of twenty-four panels, carved of pure blackwood. Though the stone used for the carved inlay – landscapes, figures, buildings, birds and flowers – is not jade, it is a high quality serpentine. Each panel has a palace scene, with fifty or sixty palace-ladies. It is called “Spring Morning in the Han Place”. The features, gestures and costumes are rendered with great clarity. The finish is quite exquisite, the detail and composition of the highest order. It would be perfect for the main hall of Prospect Garden, sir. The second item is a large wall-clock over three feet high. This is a most unusual item. It has a little figure of a boy on the face that indicates the hour with a pointer, and inside it has a little mechanical orchestra. Those two heavier articles I was not able to bring with me. I have however brought the other two, which I think you will find quite fascinating.’
Feng produced an embroidered casket wrapped in several layers of white damask-silk. Unwrapping it, he raised the lid, removed the protective pad of silk-wool beneath it and displayed its contents. In the top compartment of the casket lay a little glass container with a fitted lid. In this container, on a piece of crimson silk that lined its inner casing of gold, lay a magnificent lustrous pearl, as large as a longan.
‘This,’ announced Feng, ‘is known as a Mother Pearl.’
He asked for a tray and Zhang Guang handed him a tea-tray of black lacquer, asking:
‘Will this do?’
‘Perfectly,’ replied Feng, taking from the inner pocket of his gown a white silk bundle. This too contained pearls, of an ordinary size, which he tipped out onto the tray. He then placed the ‘Mother Pearl’ in their midst and put the tray down on the table. Like so many perfect drops of water the smaller pearls rolled across the tray towards the large central pearl. And when Feng lifted the ‘Mother’, all the little ones clung to her. Not a single one was left on the tray.
‘Amazing!’ exclaimed Zhan Guang.
‘An interesting phenomenon,’ observed Jia Zheng. ‘And most appropriately named.’
‘Where is the other casket?’ asked Feng turning to his page, who promptly came forward with a rosewood casket held aloft in both hands. The three men gathered round as it was opened. On its lining of tiger-brocade lay a length of blue gauze-like material, many times folded.
‘And what is this?’ asked Zhan Guang.
‘This,’ replied Feng, ‘is called Byssus Net.’
He took it from the casket and laid it on the table. Folded as it was, it occupied a space no more than five inches long and less than half an inch thick. Feng began to unfold it. When he had done so a dozen times, it extended over the edge of the table.
‘There are still two folds to come,’ he explained. ‘To unfold it to its full extent we would need to hang it in a room with a high ceiling. This fabric is woven from the
Byssus, the so-called Mermaid’s Tears. In extreme heat it would make a perfect fly and mosquito-net for use in a large reception hall. As you can see, it is extremely light and transparent.’
‘Please do not unfold it fully,’ said Jia Zheng. ‘It might prove hard to fold again.’
Feng and Zhan Guang carefully folded the net and replaced it in its casket.
‘The price being asked for these four curios is really very reasonable,’ said Feng. ‘I think he would be willing to part with the four for twenty thousand taels. Ten thousand for the Mother Pearl, five thousand for the Byssus Net and two thousand five hundred each for the screen and striking clock.’
‘We could not possibly buy them, I’m afraid,’ said Jia Zheng.
‘But with your connections in the palace,’ said Feng, ‘surely they would make an ideal presentation.’
‘I dare say they would,’ replied Jia Zheng. ‘I dare say all sorts of things would. But we simply haven’t the money. I would like Lady Jia to see them, all the same.’
‘By all means.’
Jia Zheng sent a page to fetch Jia Lian, who was instructed to take the pearl and the precious net through to Grandmother Jia’s apartment. He also sent a servant to invite Lady Xing, Lady Wang and Xi-feng to come and view them.
‘There are two other items,’ Jia Lian explained to the ladies. ‘A folding screen and a musical clock. The whole lot is going for twenty thousand taels.’
‘What!’ said Xi-feng sharply. ‘I grant you they’re fine pieces. But we definitely haven’t the cash to spare. Besides we’re not like provincial viceroys and governors, who are expected to make such offerings. No; over the years I’ve come to the conclusion that the most sensible way to secure our financial future is to invest in land and property–trust-land for provision of sacrificial funds, and free burial-grounds for the clan with permanent caretakers’ quarters. Such things would be there for the family to fall back on in hard times, an insurance against ruin. I don’t know if Grannie, Father and Mother agree with me or not? Of course, if Sir Zheng and Father want to buy these things, it’s entirely their decision.’