‘She doesn’t really want to leave home and take holy vows,’ said You-shi. ‘She just thinks she can take advantage of Mr Zhen’s absence to challenge my authority. Well, so far as I’m concerned, she can go ahead and good luck to her!’
Landscape continued none the less in her efforts to dissuade Xi-chun from her drastic course of action. But Xi-chun persisted in her fast, and her only thought now was to take the final step and cut off what remained of her hair. Landscape could bear it no longer, and went to tell Ladies Xing and Wang. They tried talking Xi-chun out of it several times, but their efforts were in vain. She seemed obsessed.
The two ladies were on the point of going to inform Jia Zheng when one of the servants outside announced the arrival of Lady Zhen and young Master Zhen Bao-yu. They hurried out to welcome their guests and escorted Lady Zhen into Lady Wang’s apartment, where they all sat down, formal greetings were exchanged and polite conversation was made, details of which we need not record. Lady Wang made a reference to the supposed resemblance between their two sons, the ‘two jades’, and expressed a desire to see Zhen Bao-yu for herself. He was sent for at once, but the answer returned that he was conversing with Sir Zheng in the outer study, and that they seemed to have struck up an immediate rapport. Bao-yu, Huan and Lan had also been summoned to take lunch in the study, and Master Zhen would call on Lady Wang afterwards.
Presently lunch was served for the ladies.
Jia Zheng, having witnessed for himself the physical resemblance between this Zhen Bao-yu and his own son, proceeded to test the young man’s literary and scholastic abilities and was most impressed by the fluent answers that he gave. He sent for his own Bao-yu and the other two boys, in order to exhibit to them this paragon of virtue, as both stimulus and admonition, and in particular to afford Bao-yu an opportunity for salutary self-comparison.
Bao-yu answered the summons promptly, and appeared in full mourning-dress, accompanied by Huan and Lan. When he saw Zhen Bao-yu for the first time, it seemed to him almost as if he were being reunited with an old friend, and the feeling of delight was apparently mutual. They bowed to each other, and Huan and Lan followed suit. Jia Zheng had been sitting on a mat on the floor, and had asked Master Zhen on arrival to sit at a chair, an invitation that Master Zhen had (very properly) declined, since his senior was seated at a lower level. Instead he installed himself on a cushion on the floor. Now that Bao-yu and the other two had joined the company, it would hardly be right for them to sit on the floor with Jia Zheng; nor on the other hand could they remain standing while Master Zhen, their contemporary, was seated below. Jia Zheng resolved the dilemma by standing up himself, and after talking with them for a few minutes, he instructed the servants to serve lunch.
‘I shall have to leave you now,’ he said to Master Zhen. ‘Please excuse me. I hand you over to the younger generation, who will learn much from you.’
‘It is I, sir,’ replied Zhen, with polite modesty, ‘who am most anxious to learn from these gentlemen.’
Jia Zheng said a few more words in reply, and then took his leave, politely preventing his young visitor from accompanying him, but allowing Bao-yu, Jia Huan and Jia Lan, who had preceded him and were waiting outside the threshold, to escort him into the inner study. They returned, prayed Master Zhen to be seated again, and there was a certain amount of conventional chat, with references to this ‘long-awaited and much anticipated meeting’, details of which we need not record here.
Jia Bao-yu, on seeing Zhen Bao-yu, had instantly been reminded of their earlier dream-encounter ‘in the mirror’. From what he knew by report of Zhen Bao-yu, he felt sure that this jade counterpart of his would be a person after his own heart, and that he was destined to find in him a true friend. However, since this was their first ‘real’ meeting, and since Huan and Lan were present, he felt the need to be somewhat discreet, and therefore addressed him in the polite hyperboles customary on such occasions:
‘Long have I admired you from afar, but alas till now I have been denied the honour of a personal acquaintance. Today this great blessing is mine, and lo, I see before me a reincarnation of the Great Bard, a second Li Bo!’
Zhen Bao-yu had also heard a great deal about his namesake, and found that the reality conformed pretty much to his expectations.
‘He seems a passable companion in my studies,’ he thought to himself, ‘but hardly someone to share my aspirations. And yet he has my name, and looks so like me; we must be souls linked by some bond at the Rock of Rebirth. I have made some progress of late in the understanding of Higher Principles, and should therefore seek to impart to him something of what I have learned. Since this is only our first meeting, however, and since I am still ignorant where his sympathies lie, I should tread cautiously.’
He replied to Jia Bao-yu’s remarks in what he deemed to be a fitting vein:
‘Long have I known of your great gifts. I fear that, before a person of such egregious purity, refinement and grace, I am but an ordinary and foolish mortal, and that by sharing your name I do but tarnish its lustre.’
‘He seems a sympathetic enough character,’ pondered Jia Bao-yu upon hearing this. ‘But why does he flatter me almost as if I were a girl? We are both of us men, and therefore creatures of impurity.’
‘Your praise is alas undeserved,’ he said. ‘I am but a dull and foolish creature, a mere lump of senseless stone! How can I compare with a person of such quality and nobility as yourself? It is I who am unworthy of the name that we both bear.’
‘When I was young,’ mused Zhen Bao-yu aloud for his new friend’s benefit, ‘I was blind to my own limitations and entertained ideas far above my station. But then my family fell on hard times, and we have all spent the past few years in greatly reduced circumstances. As a result, although I can hardly lay claim to a comprehensive experience of life’s vicissitudes, I feel I may have acquired some slight knowledge of the ways of the world, some meagre understanding of human nature. You, on the other hand, have lived in the lap of luxury all your life, you have lacked for nothing, and you have, I am sure, been able to achieve great distinction in your literary compositions and in the study of public affairs, a distinction that has caused your honourable father to hold you in high esteem, and to view you with great pride and affection. I say again, you are worthy of the fine name that we both bear.’
Jia Bao-yu recognized by now the telltale rhetoric of the ‘career worm’ and fell silent, wondering how best to respond, while Jia Huan for his part began to feel uncomfortable at having been so entirely excluded from the conversation. Jia Lan, however, found Zhen Bao-yu’s little sermon most congenial:
‘You are altogether too modest, sir. Surely, in the fields of literary composition and public affairs of which you speak, it is precisely from long experience that true ability and knowledge are derived. I am of course too young to claim any knowledge of literary composition, but a careful perusal of the little that I have read has led me to the conclusion that external grace and meretricious refinement are of little worth when compared with the cultivation of a good character.’
Jia Bao-yu found his nephew’s remarks nauseatingly priggish, and wondered where on earth he had picked up this way of speaking. He attempted to forestall a reply in like vein from Zhen Bao-yu:
‘I had always understood from what I had heard of you that you condemned vulgar and commonplace notions, and had formed your own personal view of the world. I was so happy to have had this opportunity of meeting you today, and of learning from you something that would help me transcend this mortal realm we live in and enter a more spiritual plane. I felt sure that such an encounter would help to cleanse my heart of worldly desires, and open my eyes to a more profound view of life. Alas, it is clear from your words that you consider me a coarse creature, and have therefore treated me out of politeness to this rigmarole of worldly wisdom.’
Young Zhen reflected:
‘Clearly he has heard tales of me as a child, and therefore thinks that I was speaking out
of mere politeness, masking my true nature. I must be frank with him. Who knows, he may even turn out to be a true friend.’
‘I fully appreciate the sincerity of your remarks,’ he began. ‘When I was young, I too abhorred anything that smacked of the platitude and the cliché. But I grew older, and when my father resigned from his post and had little further inclination for social entertaining, the role of host devolved upon me. In the course of my duties I observed that each one of the distinguished gentlemen whom I met had in one way or another brought honour and glory to his family name. All their written works or spoken words were of loyalty and filial piety, their entire lives were devoted to virtue and truth and were indeed a fitting tribute to the enlightened rule under which we live and a due token of gratitude for the kind and illuminating instruction bestowed upon them by their fathers and teachers alike. So gradually I cast off the intractable theories and foolish passions of my youth. I am still searching for teachers and friends of a like mind to instruct me and guide me out of my benighted ignorance, and I consider it a great blessing to have met you. I feel sure that I have much to learn from you. Believe me, what I said earlier was in earnest.’
The more Jia Bao-yu heard the more exasperated he felt. For politeness’ sake he mumbled something ambiguous in reply, and was saved from further embarrassment by a summons from the inner apartments:
‘If the gentlemen have eaten, would Mr Zhen please join the ladies?’
Bao-yu seized this opportunity, promptly inviting Zhen Bao-yu to lead the way, and they proceeded to Lady Wang’s apartment, followed by the other boys. Seeing Lady Zhen seated in the place of honour, Jia Bao-yu paid her his respects, Jia Huan and Jia Lan followed suit, and Zhen Bao-yu likewise paid his respects to Lady Wang. At last the two ladies and their two ‘jades’ were face to face. Although Jia Bao-yu was now married, Lady Zhen was old enough not to have to stand on ceremony on that account, especially as the connection between their two families was such a long-standing one. She saw how alike the two of them were, and could not help warming towards Jia Bao-yu; with Lady Wang it was the same, she took Zhen Bao-yu by the hand and plied him with questions, finding him rather more mature than her own son. She glanced at Jia Lan, and reflected to herself that he too cut a fine figure; though not quite on a level with the two ‘jades’, he could certainly hold his own in their company. Jia Huan’s uncouth appearance, on the other hand, aroused all her old antipathy.
When it became known that both ‘jades’ were present together, all the maids came to have a look.
‘How extraordinary!’ they murmured to one another. ‘It’s one thing for them to have the same name; but they even look alike – face, build, everything! Luckily our Bao-yu is dressed in mourning white or we’d never be able to tell them apart!’
Nightingale in particular seemed momentarily quite stunned. She was thinking of Dai-yu:
‘If only she were still alive! They might have married her to this Bao-yu. I think she’d have been willing enough …’
Even as these thoughts were running through her head, she heard Lady Zhen say: ‘A few days ago, I believe my husband, who now considers our Bao-yu of an age to be married, asked Sir Zheng to look out for a suitable bride for him.’
Lady Wang was already much taken with Zhen Bao-yu and without any hesitation she replied:
‘I should be glad to act as a matchmaker for your son. Of our own girls, two have passed away, and one is already married. Cousin Zhen of Ning-guo House has an unmarried younger sister, but she is a few years too young for the match. I have another idea, though. My elder daughter-in-law, a member of the Li family by birth, has two cousins, both fine good-looking girls. The older of the two is already betrothed, but the younger is not and would make an excellent bride for your son. I will make the proposal on your behalf. I ought perhaps to mention that their family circumstances are somewhat reduced.’
‘You are being unnecessarily polite,’ said Lady Zhen. ‘Nowadays, we are nothing to boast about ourselves. In fact they may consider us beneath them.’
‘But your husband has been given this new commission,’ said Lady Wang, ‘and I feel certain that in the future he will not only be restored to his former prosperity, but will rise to new heights of glory.’
Lady Zhen smiled:
‘I only hope your predictions come true. Well, in that case, I should be most grateful if you would propose the match on our behalf.’
Zhen Bao-yu, on hearing them broach the subject of his betrothal, excused himself and was escorted by Jia Bao-yu and the other boys back to the study, where they rejoined Jia Zheng and stood for a while talking. Presently one of the Zhen servants came to summon Zhen Bao-yu:
‘Lady Zhen is leaving now, sir, and requests you to return.’
Zhen Bao-yu made his farewell, and Jia Zheng instructed Bao-yu, Jia Huan and Jia Lan to see him out. And there we must leave him.
Ever since his earlier encounter with Zhen Bao-yu’s father, Jia Bao-yu had been looking forward impatiently to the arrival of his supposed alter ego, hoping to find in him a true friend. Now that they had met, he was sorely disillusioned, realizing from their conversation that the two of them were poles apart, as far removed from each other as the proverbial ice and coal. He made his way back to his apartment in a mood of profound depression, said not a word, did not even smile, but stared vacantly into space.
‘Well?’ asked Bao-chai. ‘Is he your “living likeness” then?’
‘He certainly looks like me,’ replied Bao-yu. ‘But I could tell from the way he talked that he was a fool, just another career worm.’
‘There you go, finding fault again!’ protested Bao-chai. ‘How can you suddenly know that he’s a career worm?’
‘He talked a lot,’ replied Bao-yu, ‘and there was nothing the slightest bit profound or illuminating in what he said; he just spouted on at me about “literary composition and public affairs”, and “loyalty and filial piety”. Isn’t that the way a worm talks? It’s a shame that he looks like me; now that I know what he’s like, I wish I could look different …’
Bao-chai could see he was on one of his hobbyhorses again:
‘The things you say are really laughable! How could you possibly look different? What’s more, his ideas sound very right and proper to me. A man should want to set himself up in life and amount to something. Just because you’re so sentimental and wrapped up in your own feelings, does that mean that everyone else has to be too? You attack him for being a worm, when it’s really you who have no strength of character!’
Bao-yu had found Zhen Bao-yu’s sermon exasperating enough. With Bao-chai’s diatribe on top of it, he felt himself rapidly sinking into a slough of despond. A familiar feeling of overwhelming muz-ziness seemed to descend on him, and he could sense a relapse coming on. He said nothing, but smiled inanely, to the bewilderment of Bao-chai. She surmised that he was smiling to mask his annoyance with her harsh words, and therefore decided to ignore him. But for the rest of that day he remained in the same stupor, refusing to speak even if Aroma or one of the others deliberately provoked him, and when he rose the next morning he looked exactly as he had done before his recent convalescence.
Lady Wang meanwhile had finally concluded that she must inform Jia Zheng of Xi-chun’s determination to shave her head and take holy vows. You-shi had proved incapable of dissuading her and it seemed likely that any further opposition to her will would only drive her to suicide. They were keeping a watch on her day and night, but this was just a temporary measure. She and her aspirations could not be contained in this way for ever. Jia Zheng sighed and stamped his foot:
‘Goodness only knows what Ning-guo House has done to deserve an end like this!’
He sent for Jia Rong:
‘Go and tell your mother that she must make one last determined effort to talk Xi-chun round. Then if the girl persists in her folly, we will simply have to act as if she is no longer one of our family.’
You-shi did as she was instructed, but h
er efforts had the very opposite effect, and only elicited more threats of suicide from Xi-chun.
‘I’m a girl and you know I can’t stay at home for the rest of my life. What if I were to end up with a marriage like Ying-chun’s? Look at all the heartache she caused her parents, and Uncle Zheng and Auntie Wang, and then she died … If you love me, think of me as dead, let me go, let me at least try to make something pure of my life. I won’t be living away from home anyway, I’ll only be in Green Bower Hermitage, which is part of the Garden. Adamantina’s women are still living there. That can be my nunnery. You can look after my needs there. Please let me do this, and I shall think myself blessed. By continuing to go against me, you will be forcing me to put an end to my life. If I am allowed to follow my own chosen path, then when my brother returns I shall tell him plainly that I did it of my own free will. But if I die, he’s sure to say you drove me to my death.’
There had always been discord between You-shi and Xi-chun, and besides, You-shi could see the force of her argument. She went to report to Lady Wang. But Lady Wang was in Bao-chai’s apartment, where she had just discovered for herself the recent deterioration in Bao-yu’s condition, and was upbraiding Aroma:
‘You are altogether too careless! You should have told me at once when Bao-yu fell ill!’
‘But your Ladyship,’ pleaded Aroma, ‘Bao-yu is often ill – some days he may be better, then he’s worse again. He’s been visiting you and paying his morning duty every day and really he’s been quite all right until today, when he seems to have had a bit of a queer turn. Mrs Bao was going to come over and tell you, only she didn’t want you to scold us for making a fuss about nothing.’
This scolding of Aroma’s, and the fear that she and Bao-chai might suffer on his behalf, seemed to restore Bao-yu temporarily to his senses:
‘Don’t worry, Mother. There’s nothing the matter with me. I just feel a bit low.’
‘My child, you mustn’t forget you have a tendency to take ill. If only I’d known earlier, I could have sent for a doctor and had some proper medicine prescribed for you in time. If you allow yourself to sink into the dreadful state you were in after you lost your jade, you’ll cause us no end of trouble again!’