The Golden Days

  ‘After I invited you round to my study that day,’ said Bao-yu, ‘a whole lot of things seemed to happen one after the other, and I’m afraid I quite forgot about your visit.’

  Jia Yun returned his smile:

  ‘Let’s just say that it wasn’t my luck to see you then. But you have been ill since then, Uncle Bao. Are you quite better now?’

  ‘Quite better, thank you. I hear you’ve been very busy these last few days.’

  ‘That’s as it should be,’ said Jia Yun. ‘But I’m glad you are better, Uncle. That’s a piece of good fortune for all of us.’

  As they chatted, a maid came in with some tea. Jia Yun was talking to Bao-yu as she approached, but his eyes were on her. She was tall and rather thin with a long oval face, and she was wearing a rose-pink dress over a closely pleated white satin skirt and a black satin sleeveless jacket over the dress.

  In the course of his brief sojourn among them in the early days of Bao-yu’s illness, Jia Yun had got by heart the names of most of the principal females of Bao-yu’s establishment. He knew at a glance that the maid now serving him tea was Aroma. He was also aware that she was in some way more important than the other maids and that to be waited on by her in the seated presence of her master was an honour. Jumping hastily to his feet he addressed her with a modest smile:

  ‘You shouldn’t pour tea for me, Miss! I’m not like a visitor here. You should let me pour for myself!’

  ‘Oh do sit down!’ said Bao-yu. ‘You don’t have to be like that in front of the maids?’

  ‘I know,’ said Jia Yun. ‘But a body-servant! I don’t like to presume.’

  He sat down, nevertheless, and sipped his tea while Bao-yu made conversation on a number of unimportant topics. He told him which household kept the best troupe of players, which had the finest gardens, whose maids were the prettiest, who gave the best parties, and who had the best collection of curiosities or the strangest pets. Jia Yun did his best to keep up with him. After a while Bao-yu showed signs of flagging, and when Jia Yun, observing what appeared to be fatigue, rose to take his leave, he did not very strongly press him to stay.

  ‘You must come again when you can spare the time,’ said Bao-yu, and ordered Trinket to see him out of the Garden.

  Once outside the gateway of Green Delights, Jia Yun looked around him on all sides, and having ascertained that there was no one else about, slowed down to a more dawdling pace so that he could ask Trinket a few questions. Indeed, the little maid was subjected to quite a catechism: How old was she? What was her name? What did her father and mother do? How many years had she been working for his Uncle Bao? How much pay did she get a month?.How many girls were there working for him altogether? Trinket seemed to have no objection, however, and answered each question as it came.

  ‘That girl you were talking to on the way in,’ he said, ‘isn’t her name “Crimson” ?’

  Trinket laughed:

  ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I heard her asking you about a handkerchief. Only it just so happens that I picked one up.’

  Trinket showed interest.

  ‘She’s asked me about that handkerchief of hers a number of times. I told her, I’ve got better things to do with my time than go looking for people’s handkerchiefs. But when she asked me about it again today, she said that if I could rind it for her, she’d give me a reward. Come to think of it, you were there when she said that, weren’t you? It was when we were outside the gate of Allspice Court. So you can bear me out. Oh Mr Jia, please let me have it if you’ve picked it up and I’ll be able to see what she will give me for it!’

  Jia Yun had picked up a silk handkerchief a month previously at the time when his tree-planting activities had just started. He knew that it must have been dropped by one or another of the female inmates of the Garden, but not knowing which, had not so far ventured to do anything about his discovery. When earlier on he had heard Crimson question Trinket about her loss, he had realized, with a thrill of pleasure, that the handkerchief he had picked up must have been hers. Trinket’s request now gave him just the opening he required. He drew a handkerchief of his own from inside his sleeve and held it up in front of her with a smile: ‘‘I’ll give it to you on one condition. If she lets you have this reward you were speaking of, you’ve got to let me know. No cheating, mind!’

  Trinket received the handkerchief with eager assurances that he would be informed of the outcome, and having seen him out of the Garden, went back again to look for Crimson.

  ∗

  Our narrative returns now to Bao-yu.

  After disposing of Jia Yun, Bao-yu continued to feel extremely lethargic and lay back on the bed with every appearance of being about to doze off to sleep. Aroma hurried over to him and, sitting on the edge of the bed, roused him with a shake:

  ‘Come on! Surely you are not going to sleep again? You need some fresh air. Why don’t you go outside and walk around for a bit?’

  Bao-yu took her by the hand and smiled at her.

  ‘I’d like to go,’ he said, ‘but I don’t want to leave you.’

  ‘Silly!’ said Aroma with a laugh. ‘Don’t say what you don’t mean!’

  She hoicked him to his feet.

  ‘Well, where am I going to go then?’ said Bao-yu. ‘I just feel so bored.’

  ‘Never mind where, just go out!’ said Aroma. ‘If you stay moping indoors like this, you’ll get even more bored.’

  Bao-yu followed her advice, albeit half-heartedly, and went out into the courtyard. After visiting the cages in the gallery and playing for a bit with the birds, he ambled out of the courtyard into the Garden and along the bank of Drenched Blossoms Stream, pausing for a while to look at the goldfish in the water. As he did so, a pair of fawns came running like the wind from the hillside opposite. Bao-yu was puzzled. There seemed to be no reason for their mysterious terror. But just then little Jia Lan came running down the same slope after them, a tiny bow clutched in his hand. Seeing his uncle ahead of him, he stood politely to attention and greeted him cheerfully:

  ‘Hello, Uncle. I didn’t know you were at home. I thought you’d gone out.’

  ‘Mischievous little blighter, aren’t you?’ said Bao-yu. ‘What do you want to go shooting them for, poor little things?’

  ‘I’ve got no reading to do today,’ said Jia Lan, ‘and I don’t like to hang about doing nothing, so I thought I’d practise my archery and equitation.’

  ‘Goodness! You’d better not waste time jawing, then,’ said Bao-yu, and left the young toxophilite to his pursuits.

  Moving on, without much thinking where he was going, he came presently to the gate of a courtyard.

  Denser than feathers on the phoenix’ tail

  The stirred leaves murmured with a pent dragon’s moan.

  The multitudinous bamboos and the board above the gate confirmed that his feet had, without conscious direction, carried him to the Naiad’s House. Of their own accord they now carried him through the gateway and into the courtyard. The House seemed silent and deserted, its bamboo door-blind hanging unrolled to the ground; but as he approached the window, he detected a faint sweetness in the air, traceable to a thin curl of incense smoke which drifted out through the green gauze of the casement. He pressed his face to the gauze; but before his eyes could distinguish anything, his ear became aware of a long, languorous sigh and the sound of a voice speaking:

  ‘Each day in a drowsy waking dream of love.’

  Bao-yu felt a sudden yearning for the speaker. He could see her now. It was Dai-yu, of course, lying on her bed, stretching herself and yawning luxuriously.

  He laughed:

  ‘Why “each day in a drowsy waking dream of love”?’ he asked through the window (the words were from his beloved Western Chamber); then going to the doorway he lifted up the door-blind and walked into the room.

  Dai-yu realized that she had been caught off her guard. She covered her burning face with her sleeve, and turning over towards the wall, pretended
to be asleep. Bao-yu went over intending to turn her back again, but just at that moment Dai-yu’s old wet-nurse came hurrying in with two other old women at her heels:

  ‘Miss Lin’s asleep, sir. Would you mind coming back again after she’s woken up?’

  Dai-yu at once turned over and sat up with a laugh:

  ‘Who’s asleep?’

  The three old women laughed apologetically.

  ‘Sorry, miss. We thought you were asleep. Nightingale! Come inside now! Your mistress is awake.’

  Having shouted for Nightingale, the three guardians of morality retired.

  ‘What do you mean by coming into people’s rooms when they’re asleep?’ said Dai-yu, smiling up at Bao-yu as she sat on the bed’s edge patting her hair into shape.

  At the sight of those soft cheeks so adorably flushed and the starry eyes a little misted with sleep a wave of emotion passed over him. He sank into a chair and smiled back at her:

  ‘What was that you were saying just now before I came in ?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ said Dai-yu.

  Bao-yu laughed and snapped his fingers at her:

  ‘Put that on your tongue, girl! I heard you say it.’

  While they were talking to one another, Nightingale came in.

  ‘Nightingale,’ said Bao-yu, ‘what about a cup of that excellent tea of yours ?’

  ‘Excellent tea?’ said Nightingale. “There’s nothing very special about the tea we drink here. If nothing but the best will do, you’d better wait for Aroma to come.’

  ‘Never mind about bim! said Dai-yu. ‘First go and get me some water!’

  ‘He is our guest,’ said Nightingale. ‘I can’t fetch you any water until I’ve given him his tea.’ And she went to pour him a cup.

  ‘Good girl!’ said Bao-yu.

  ‘If with your amorous mistress I should wed,

  ‘Tis you, sweet maid, must make our bridal bed.’

  The words, like Dai-yu’s languorous line, were from Western Chamber, but in somewhat dubious taste. Dai-yu was dreadfully offended by them. In an instant the smile had vanished from her face.

  ‘What was that you said ?’

  He laughed:

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  Dai-yu began to cry.

  ‘This is your latest amusement, I suppose. Every time you

  hear some coarse expression outside or read some crude, disgusting book, you have to come back here and give me the benefit of it. I am to become a source of entertainment for the menfolk now, it seems.’

  She rose, weeping, from the bed and went outside. Bao-yu followed her in alarm.

  ‘Dearest coz, it was very wrong of me to say that, but it just slipped out without thinking. Please don’t go and tell! I promise never to say anything like that again. May my mouth rot and my tongue decay if I do!’

  Just at that moment Aroma came hurrying up:

  ‘Quick!’ she said. ‘You must come back and change. The Master wants to see you.’

  The descent of this thunderbolt drove all else from his mind and he rushed off in a panic. As soon as he had changed, he hurried out of the Garden. Tealeaf was waiting for him outside the inner gate.

  ‘I suppose you don’t know what he wants to see me about ?’ Bao-yu asked him.

  ‘I should hurry up, if I were you,’ said Tealeaf. ‘All I know is that he wants to see you. You’ll find out why soon enough when you get there.’

  He hustled him along as he spoke.

  They had passed round the main hall, Bao-yu still in a state of fluttering apprehensiveness, when there was a loud guffaw from a corner of the wall. It was Xue Pan, clapping his hands and stamping his feet in mirth.

  ‘Ho! Ho! Ho! You’d never have come “this quickly if you hadn’t been told that Uncle wanted you !’

  Tealeaf, also laughing, fell on his knees. Bao-yu stood there looking puzzled. It was some moments before it dawned on him that he had been hoaxed. Xue Pan was by this time being apologetic – bowing repeatedly and pumping his hands to show how sorry he was:

  ‘Don’t blame the lad!’ he said. ‘It wasn’t his fault. I talked him into it.’

  Bao-yu saw that he could do nothing, and might as well accept with a good grace.

  ‘I don’t mind being made a fool of,’ he said, ‘but I think it

  was going a bit far to bring my father into it. I think perhaps I’d better tell Aunt Xue and see what she thinks about it all.’

  ‘Now look here, old chap,’ said Xue Pan, getting agitated, ‘it was only because I wanted to fetch you out a bit quicker. I admit it was very wrong of me to make free with your Parent, but after all, you’ve only got to mention my father next time you want to fool me and we’ll be quits!’

  ‘Aiyo!’ said Bao-yu. ‘Worse and worse!’ He turned to Tealeaf: ‘Treacherous little beast! What are you still kneeling for?’

  Tealeaf kotowed and rose to his feet.

  ‘Look,’ said Xue Pan. ‘I wouldn’t have troubled you otherwise, only it’s my birthday on the third of next month and old Hu and old Cheng and a couple of the others, I don’t know where they got them from but they’ve given me:

  a piece of fresh lotus root, ever so crisp and crunchy, as thick as that, look, and as long as that;

  a huge great melon, look, as big as that;

  a freshly-caught sturgeon as big as that;

  and a cypress-smoked Siamese sucking-pig as big as that that came in the tribute from Siam.

  Don’t you think it was clever of them to get me those things ? Maybe not so much the sturgeon and the sucking-pig. They’re just expensive. But where would you go to get a piece of lotus root or a melon like that? However did they get them to grow so big ? I’ve given some of the stuff to Mother, and while I was about it I sent some round to your grandmother and Auntie Wang, but I’ve still got a lot left over. I can’t eat it all myself: it would be unlucky. But apart from me, the only person I can think of who is worthy to eat a present like this is you. That’s why I came over specially to invite you. And we’re lucky, because we’ve got a little chap who sings coming round as well. So you and I will be able to sit down and make a day of it, eh? Really enjoy ourselves.’

  Xue Pan, still talking, conducted Bao-yu to his ‘study’, where Zhan Guang, Cheng Ri-xing, Hu Si-lai and Dan Ping-ren (the four donors of the feast) and the young singer he had mentioned were already waiting. They rose to welcome Bao-yu as he entered. When tie bowings and courtesies were over and tea had been taken, Xue Pan called for his servants to lay. A tremendous bustle ensued, which seemed to go on for quite a long time before everything was finally ready and the diners were able to take their places at the table.

  Bao-yu noticed sliced melon and lotus root among the dishes, both of unusual quality and size.

  ‘It seems wrong to be sharing your presents with you before I have given you anything myself,’ he said jokingly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Xue Pan. ‘What are you planning to give me for my birthday next month? Something new and out of the ordinary, I hope.’

  ‘I haven’t really got anything much to give you,’ said Bao-yu. ‘Things like money and food and clothing I don’t want for, but they’re not really mine to give. The only way I could give you something that would really be mine would be by doing some calligraphy or painting a picture for you.’

  oTalking of pictures,’ said Xue Pan genially, ‘that’s reminded me. I saw a set of dirty pictures in someone’s house the other day. They were real beauties. There was a lot of writing on top that I didn’t pay much attention to, but I did notice the signature. I think it was “Geng Huang”, the man who painted them. They were really good!’

  Bao-yu was puzzled. His knowledge of the masters of painting and calligraphy both past and present was not inconsiderable, but he had never in all his experience come across a ‘Geng Huang’. After racking his brains for some moments he suddenly began to chuckle and called for a writing-brush. A writing-brush having been produced by one of the servants, he wrote tw
o characters with it in the palm of his hand.

  ‘Are you quite sure the signature you saw was “Geng Huang”?’ he asked Xue Pan.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Xue Pan. ‘Of course I’m sure.’

  Bao-yu opened his hand and held it up for Xue Pan to see:

  ‘You sure it wasn’t these two characters? They are quite similar.’

  The others crowded round to look. They all laughed when they saw what he had written:

  ‘Yes, it must have been “Tang Yin”. Mr Xue couldn’t have been seeing straight that day. Ha! Ha! Ha!’

  Xue Pan realized that he had made a fool of himself, but passed it off with an embarrassed laugh:

  ‘Oh, Tankin’ or wankin’,’ he said, ‘what difference does it make, anyway?’

  Just then ‘Mr Feng’ was announced by one of the servants, which Bao-yu knew could only mean General Feng Tang’s son, Feng Zi-ying. Xue Pan and the rest told the boy to bring him in immediately, but Feng Zi-ying was already striding in, talking and laughing as he went. The others hurriedly rose and invited him to take a seat.

  ‘Hal’ said Feng Zi-ying. ‘No need to go out then. Enjoyin’ yourselves at home, eh? Very nice too!’

  ‘It’s a long time since we’ve seen you around,’ said Bao-yu. ‘How’s the General?’

  ‘Fahver’s in good health, thank you very much,’ said Feng Zi-ying,’ but Muvver hasn’t been too well lately. Caught a chill or somethin’.’

  Observing with glee that Feng Zi-ying was sporting a black eye, Xue Pan asked him how he had come by it:

  ‘Been having a dust-up, then ? Who was it this time ? Looks as if he left his signature!’

  Feng Zi-ying laughed:

  ‘Don’t use the mitts any more nowadays – not since that time I laid into Colonel Chou’s son and did him an injury. That was a lesson to me. I’ve learned to keep my temper since then. No, this happened the other day durin’ a huntin’ expedition in the Iron Net Mountains. I got flicked by a goshawk’s wing.’