The Golden Lotus

CHAPTER 8

The Magic Diagrams

Higher and yet higher the red dawn

Creeps slowly up the casement.

She wakes and throws her silken wrapper

Carelessly across one breast.

Is it not strange

This rising while the sun is not yet high?

Blown by the gentle breeze

The hastening flowers wander through the tower of jade.

She could not sleep

The image of her loved one lingered always with her.

Now that Ximen Qing had married Meng Yulou, their love was so deep that they could not bear to be away from one another even for a moment. One day old woman Wen came on behalf of the Chen family to propose that the marriage arranged between their son and Ximen's daughter should be celebrated on the twelfth day of the sixth month. Ximen Qing, in a great state of excitement, took one of his new wife's gilded Nanjing beds for his daughter. For more than a month he was so busy preparing for the ceremony that he could not find time to go and see Pan Jinlian. Day after day she leaned upon the door, and looked out for him till her eyes could see no longer. At last she asked old woman Wang to go to his house. The old woman went, but the servants knew whence she had come and paid no attention to her. Jinlian waited and waited, but still Ximen did not come and, after old woman Wang's fruitless visit, she told Ying'er to go to the street and see if she could see him. The girl did not venture to enter the great house, or even the courtyard, but stood in the gateway and peeped inside. But she too could see no sign of Ximen Qing and had to go back again. When she got home, Jinlian spat in her face, cursed and beat her, because, she said, she was no use. She made the child kneel down until midday, and would give her nothing to eat. Then, finding the hot weather very trying, she told Ying'er to heat some water that she might take a bath, and to cook some little meat pasties for Ximen Qing to eat if he should come.

Jinlian was wearing a thin gossamer shift, and she sat on her little bed. When her lover did not come, she cursed him for a fickle rogue. This made her only the more sad. With her slender fingers she took off her red embroidered shoes, and began to use them for working out the magic diagrams of love. There was no one she could talk to, and she used coins to try and find out what her absent lover was thinking of.

Jinlian played at the love diagrams for a long time. Then she tired of them and lay down to sleep. An hour later she awoke in a very bad temper. "Mother," Ying'er said, "the water is hot now; will you take your bath?"

"Are the pasties cooked?" Jinlian asked. "Bring them here and let me see." Ying'er hastily brought them, and Jinlian counted them with her dainty fingers. She had made a tray of thirty but, though she counted again and again, she could not find more than twenty-nine.

"Where is the other one?" she cried.

"I haven't seen it," Ying'er said; "you must have counted wrong."

"I have counted them twice. I want thirty for your father to eat. How dare you steal one? You are an impudent, whorish little slave. I suppose you were dying of starvation, and couldn't do without one of these particular pasties! A bowl of rice, whether large or small, is not good enough for you. Do you imagine I made them for you?"

Without giving the girl a chance to say a word, she stripped off her clothes and beat her twenty or thirty times with a whip, till she squealed like a pig being killed. "If I have to ask you again, and you still lie to me, I will most certainly beat you a hundred times."

The girl could bear no more. "Mother, don't beat me," she cried, "I was so hungry I had to take one."

"Why did you say I'd counted them wrongly, when you knew you'd stolen one? I knew it was you, you little whore, you thief. When that turtle was alive, you knew one or two things, and told him a great deal more than you really knew. Now he is not here. You play your tricks right in front of my eyes. I will break every bone in your whorish little body."

She beat the girl for some time longer, then made her put on her drawers, and told her to stand beside her and fan her. When the girl had fanned her for a long time, Jinlian cried, "Turn your face to me, you little strumpet, and I'll pinch it." Ying'er turned and the woman, with her long sharp nails, pinched it till the blood came. Then she let go. After a while, she went to the dressing table to dress again before going to stand at the door.

At last the Heavens relented. Daian on horseback, carrying a parcel, passed her door.

"Where are you going?" she cried.

The boy was by no means lacking in intelligence, and he had often come with his master to this house. Jinlian was in the habit of giving him little presents. He knew her quite well. He dismounted and said, "I have been with a present to one of the officers and now I'm going home."

"What is happening at your Father's?" Jinlian said. "Why hasn't he been here? It looks as though he had another sweetheart."

"He has no new sweetheart. But for the last few days everybody in the house has been very busy, and he couldn't get away."

"If he has been so busy, why didn't he send me word? I have been worried about him for ever so long. Tell me, what is he really doing?"

The boy smiled. He did not answer, and this made Jinlian think there must be something behind it all. Once again she asked him eagerly, "What has been happening?"

"Well, if there was anything," Daian said, smiling, "why should you want to know all about it?"

"If you don't tell me, little oily mouth, I will hate you all your life."

"If I tell you," the boy said, "you mustn't let my master know I did so."

Jinlian promised, and Daian told her how his master had married Meng Yulou. The woman could not prevent the tears from falling over her beautiful face. Daian was very much embarrassed. "Oh, Aunt," he said, "how easily upset you are. That is just why I didn't want to tell you." Jinlian leaned upon the door and sighed deeply.

"You don't understand," she said, "you don't know how fond of one another we used to be. And now he has cast me aside." Her tears fell faster and faster.

"You shouldn't let yourself be so distressed," Daian said. "Even our Great Lady can't keep him in order."

"Listen to me, Daian," said Jinlian. She sang a song to him about the fickleness of men.

Then she began to cry again. "Please don't cry," Daian said, "I'm sure he will come and see you very soon. Write him a short note and let me take it to him. He will certainly come when he gets it."

"I will, indeed," Jinlian said, "and, if you will be so kind, you shall have a fine pair of shoes for your pains. I should like him to come in time for me to congratulate him on his birthday, but whether he comes or not will depend absolutely on your little oily tongue."

She told Ying'er to put some of the pasties onto a dish, and asked Daian to have some tea. Meanwhile she went into her room, took a sheet of flowered paper, and wrote with a sheep's-hair brush in a jade holder. In a few minutes she had written this poem:

The words upon this flowered paper come from my heart.

I remember that our hair once mingled on the pillow.

How often I have leaned upon the door, under the lattice, filled with countless fears.

Now, if you are false to me, if you will not come

Give back to me my dainty handkerchief.

When she had written this, she folded the paper in a lover's knot and gave it to Daian. "Tell him he must come on his birthday. I shall be waiting most anxiously for him."

When the boy had eaten the cakes and the pasties, Jinlian gave him a handful of coins. As he was about to mount his horse, she said, "When you get home and see your Father, tell him that I am very angry with him. Tell him that if he does not come here, I shall get a sedan chair and come to him."

"Lady," the boy said, "you mustn't do anything of the sort. You would be like a dumpling seller trying to do business with a fortune-teller. You would never get a fair deal." He rode away.

Day after day, early and late, Jinlian waited for Ximen Qing, but he did not come. It was the end of the seventh month and his birthday was approaching. To Jinlian every day seemed like three autumns and every night like half a summer. Still no word came from him. She clenched her pearly teeth and rivers of tears flowed from her eyes. One evening she prepared a meal, and asked old woman Wang to come and see her. She took a silver pin from her hair and gave it to the old woman, entreating her to go to Ximen's house and ask him to come.

"This is no time to go," the old woman said, "he will certainly not be able to come now. I will go and see him tomorrow morning."

"You must not forget, Stepmother."

"I am not unused to such business," the old woman said. "I'm not likely to lose any time in a matter of this sort."

Old woman Wang never did anything without being paid. This time the pin was her reward. She drank till her face was very red, and then went home.

Jinlian burned incense to perfume the bedclothes, and lighted the silver lamp. Long and softly she sighed to express the inmost feelings of her heart. All through the long night she played the lute, till the silence and loneliness of the empty house made her feel that she could play no longer. And as she played, she sang.

She tossed about all night, unable to sleep. As soon as it was light, she sent Ying'er to see whether old woman Wang had gone to see Ximen Qing. The little girl came back and told her that the old woman had gone.

It was still early when old woman Wang reached Ximen's gate. She asked the servants about him, but they all said they knew nothing. She waited a long time, standing by the wall opposite the gate, till Clerk Fu came out and opened the shop. She went over and greeted him respectfully. "Excuse me," she said politely, "but is his Lordship at home?''

"What do you want with him?" Fu said. "Yesterday his Lordship entertained a number of guests to celebrate his birthday and, after drinking all day here, they went to the bawdy house last night. He has not come back yet, and you will probably find him still there."

The old woman thanked him and set off down East Street to the lane in which the bawdy house was. There she met Ximen, on horseback, coming from the opposite direction, and two boys attending him. He was half drunk, nodding to and fro upon his horse, and his bleary eyes could hardly see. "You ought not to get as drunk as this, Sir," old woman Wang shouted. She took hold of his bridle.

"Hello, Stepmother Wang, is that you?" Ximen Qing drunkenly mumbled. "I suppose Sister Wu has sent you to look for me?"

The old woman whispered something. "My boy said something about it some time ago," Ximen said. "I hear she is very angry with me. I'll go and see her now." He chatted with the old woman as they went along. When they came to the door, old woman Wang went in first.

"Now you ought to be happy, Lady," she said. "In less than half an hour I've brought his Lordship to you."

Jinlian was so delighted that he seemed like a visitor from Heaven. She ran downstairs to meet him. Ximen Qing waved his fan airily and went in, still neither drunk nor sober. He gave the woman a nod, and in return she made a profound reverence.

"You are indeed a nobleman, my Lord, and not the sort of man who is to be gazed upon any day. Where have you been all this time? I suppose you have been so taken up with your new wife that you haven't had time for me?"

"My new wife!" Ximen said. "What do you mean? Surely you don't believe all the tittle-tattle you hear. I have not had time to come and see you. I have been busy making arrangements for my daughter's wedding."

"Still trying to deceive me, are you?" Jinlian cried. "Well, if this is not a case of off with the old love and on with the new, you must take oath upon your body."

"If I have forgotten you," Ximen Qing said, "may my body become the size of a bowl of rice and may I suffer for three years or more from yellow sickness. May a caterpillar as large as a carrying pole bite a hole in my pocket."

"You fickle rascal, what harm will it do you if a caterpillar as large as that does bite a hole in your pocket?" She went up to him and, snatching off his hat, threw it on the floor. Old woman Wang hastily picked it up and put it on the table.

"Lady," she cried, "you were angry with me because I didn't make his Worship come, and, when he does come, you treat him like this."

Jinlian pulled a pin from his hair, held it up, and looked at it. It was of gold, with two rows of characters engraved upon it.

The horse, with golden bridle, neighs on the sweet turf.

In the season of apricot blossoms, they who dwell in the jade tower drink till they are merry.

This pin belonged to Yulou, but Jinlian thought some singing girl had given it to him. She thrust it into her sleeve. "Now will you say you haven't changed? Where is the pin I gave you?"

"The other day," Ximen said, "I was rather tipsy and fell off my horse. My hat blew away and my hair was all in a mess. I looked everywhere for the pin, but could not find it."

Jinlian snapped her fingers in his face. "Brother, you are so drunk you don't know what you're saying. A child of three would see through a story like that."

"Don't be so hard on his Lordship," old woman Wang said. "He is one of those men who can see a bee piddling forty miles away, but not an elephant outside their very own doors."

"When she is nearly done," Ximen Qing said, "you begin."

Jinlian saw a scarlet-trimmed finely gilded fan. She snatched it from him and took it to the light to look at. She was well skilled in the arts of love, and she was sure that certain marks upon it had been caused by teeth. She came to the conclusion that some girl must have given him the fan, and without a word tore it into pieces. Before Ximen Qing could stop her it was in shreds.

"My friend Bu Zhidao gave me that fan," he said, "and I've kept it put away for a long time. I've only been using it for two or three days, and now you've gone and spoiled it."

Jinlian plagued him a little longer, and then Ying'er brought in tea. The woman told her to put down the tray and kowtow to Ximen Qing.

"You two have been quarreling quite long enough," old woman Wang said. "Don't forget that you have more important business to attend to. I'll go into the kitchen and get something ready for you."

Jinlian told Ying'er to bring wine and refreshments in honor of Ximen's birthday. The girl obeyed and soon a meal was set upon the table. Jinlian brought out her own present and, setting it on a tray, offered it to him. Besides a pair of black silk shoes, there was a pair of breeches made of purple silk, double sewn and embroidered with a design of pine, bamboo, and plum blossom, the three cold-weather friends. They were lined with green silk, scented with fragrant herbs, and the braces were again of purple. The stomacher was embroidered with roses. There was also a pin like the petals of the double lotus, on which was engraved a verse of four sentences, each sentence consisting of four characters:

A double lotus, I,

To dress your hair.

Do not forget me

Like a neglected ornament.

Ximen Qing was delighted with these presents. He caught Jinlian to him and kissed her. "I never knew you were so clever," he said.

Jinlian told Ying'er to bring the wine jar that she might offer Ximen a cup of wine. As she bowed four times in reverence before him, she seemed as graceful as a branch laden with blossoms, and each time she stood up as straight as a candle. Ximen Qing quickly lifted her up, and they sat together side by side. Old woman Wang drank several cups of wine with them and then went home, her face very red. Then they abandoned all restraint, and drank for a long time till darkness fell.

Dark clouds have gathered over the mountains

A chain of deepest mist stretches far into the distance.

Stars come out to challenge the brightness of the moon

And the green waters of the lake mirror the sky.

The monks return to their ancient temples

While, in the depths of the forest, the crows fly, crying

Caw, caw, caw.

People hasten back to the distant villages

And in the tiny hamlets the dogs bark

Bow, wow, wow.

Ximen Qing decided to stay the night with Jinlian, and ordered the boys to take his horse home. That night they spent their whole strength in the enjoyment of one another, and their passionate delight knew no bounds. Yet, as the proverb says, "When joy is at its height, there comes sad news." The time flew by.

* * *

We must now return for a while to Wu Song. He had taken the magistrate's treasure to the palace of the Grand Marshal in the Eastern Capital. When he had safely handed over the letters and the chests, he stayed some time waiting for the return letter, and then ordered his men to start back to Shandong. When he had started, it was the third or fourth month; now it was already autumn. Rain fell incessantly, and they had to halt for a few days. He had already been away about three months, and somehow, on this journey homewards, he seemed unable to rid himself of a feeling of great uneasiness. At last he made up his mind to send one of the soldiers before him to carry a report to the magistrate and a letter to his brother, Wu Da. In this he said he would be home some time during the eighth month.

The soldier arrived and, after giving the letter to the magistrate, went off to find Wu Da. It so happened that old woman Wang was standing outside her door when the soldier was just about to knock at Wu Da's house. She went across and said to him, "What is it you want?"

"I have orders from Captain Wu," the soldier said, "to give this letter to his brother."

"Master Wu Da is not at home," the old woman said. "He has gone to visit his family tombs. Give me the letter and he shall have it as soon as he comes back. That is the best thing you can do."

The soldier saluted, took out the letter, and gave it to the old woman. Then he jumped on his horse and rode away. Old woman Wang immediately brought the letter to Jinlian's back door. She and Ximen Qing were not yet up; they had spent half the night in amorous combat.

"Get up, Master and Mistress," the old woman cried, "here is news for you. Wu Song has sent a soldier with a letter for his brother to say he is coming back shortly. I took the letter and sent the soldier about his business, but you will have to do something about it, and not waste any time."

Ximen Qing was feeling perfectly contented with life, but, when he heard this news, it seemed to him that the eight pieces of his skull had fallen apart and somebody was pouring a great jar of ice and snow through the opening. He and Jinlian quickly leapt out of bed, threw their clothes on, and asked the old woman to come in. She gave the letter to Ximen Qing to read. It only said that Wu Song would be back not later than the Autumn Day, but this was enough to make the lovers beside themselves with anxiety.

"What shall we do, Stepmother?" they cried. "If you can only think of some way out for us, we shall be so grateful that we shall find a splendid reward for you. We are so fond of one another that we cannot bear to be apart. But, if Wu Song comes back, we shall be obliged to separate, and life won't be worth living."

"Sir," said the old woman, "why all this to-do? I told you once before that first marriages were arranged for people by their parents, but that second marriages are the concern of no one but the parties themselves. Nobody has ever suggested that a man and his brother's wife belong to the same family. Wu Da has been dead a hundred days or so. Lady, you must ask a few monks to come and burn his tablet before Wu Song comes back. Then you, Sir, must send a sedan chair and take her into your establishment. When Wu Song does come back, I will have a word with him, and what is there he can do? You will be able to spend all your lives together. Isn't that good enough for you?"

"You are right, Stepmother," Ximen Qing said. He and Jinlian breakfasted together, and it was decided that on the sixth day of the eighth month there should be a final requiem for Wu Da, when they would send for monks and have the tablet burned. Two days later Ximen Qing would take Jinlian into his own household. When all these arrangements had been made, Daian came with a horse and Ximen went home.

Time sped like an arrow in flight. The sun and moon crossed and recrossed like a weaver's shuttles. It was the sixth day of the eighth month. Ximen Qing brought several taels of silver to Wu Da's house, and told old woman Wang to go to the Temple of Eternal Felicity and ask six monks to come and sing a dirge for Wu Da and to burn his tablet the same evening. Before it was fully light the temple attendants came with their sacred books and instruments. They set up a lectern and hung their pictures all around, and old woman Wang in the kitchen helped the cooks to prepare vegetarian food. Ximen Qing spent the whole day there. Soon the monks arrived, tinkling their bells and beating their drums. They read their sacred books and intoned their exorcisms.

Jinlian would perform none of the due purifications. She slept with Ximen Qing till the sun was high in the heavens, and she would not have risen then, had not the monks come to invite her to burn incense, sign the documents, and make her reverence to Buddha. Finally she dressed herself in white and went to worship Buddha.

As soon as the monks saw her, their Buddhist hearts were troubled and their Buddhist natures stimulated to a furious degree, so that their passions ran away with them, and they were in such a state that they did not know what they were doing.

The precentor lost his wits and, as he read the sacred books

Knew not if they were upside down.

The holy priests went mad and read their prayers

By no means sure what line they read.

The thurifer upset the vases, and the acolyte seized the incense boat

Thinking it was his candle.

The lector should have read "The Mighty Empire of Song"

But called it "Tang" instead.

The exorcist, who should have chanted "Master Wu" cried "Mistress Wu."

The old monk's heart so wildly beat

He missed the drum and struck the young monk's hand.

The young monk's mind was so distraught

He used the drumstick on the old monk's head.

Long patient years of novicehood were all undone

And had ten thousand saints come down to earth

It would have been no better.

Jinlian burned incense before the image of Buddha, signed the papers, and made a reverence. Then she went back to her room and began again to play with Ximen Qing. She never even dreamed of abstaining from wine or any kind of food.

"If there should be anything that requires attention," Ximen said to old woman Wang, "you attend to it, and don't let anybody come to disturb the lady."

"You young people enjoy yourselves," the old woman said, laughing. "If there is anything to be done for these shaven-headed fellows, I'll do it."

Now that the monks had seen how beautiful Wu Da's widow was, they could not put her out of their minds. When they came back again from their temple after the evening meal, Jinlian was still drinking and making merry with Ximen Qing. There was only a wooden partition between her room and the temporary chapel. One of the monks had come back before the others and was washing his hands in a basin outside the window of her room when he heard soft whisperings and gentle murmurings that left him in little doubt about what was going on. He stopped washing his hands and stood still to listen. He heard Jinlian say, "Sweetheart, how long will you continue? The monks will be back soon and they may hear us. Do let me go. We must finish."

"Don't be in a hurry," Ximen's voice said. "I should like to 'set the cover on fire' just once more." It never occurred to them that there was a monk listening to every word they said.

Then all the monks came back, and they began to make music and intone their orisons. One told another, till there was none who did not know that Wu Da's widow was entertaining her lover in the house. They waved their arms and feet wildly without the slightest idea of what they were doing. Thus were the Buddhist services performed, and thus, this night, they sped Wu Da's spirit on its lonely journey.

Jinlian took off her mourning robes, dressed herself beautifully, and came to stand with Ximen Qing behind the lattice. They watched the monks preparing to burn the tablet and old woman Wang carrying water and fire. At last the tablet and the Buddhist pictures were completely consumed.

Thievish shaven-heads peered with cold eyes through the lattice. A man and a woman standing shoulder to shoulder could vaguely be seen. This brought to their minds the remembrance of what had happened before, and they struck their instruments discordantly. An old monk's hat was blown off by the wind and his bluish bald pate appeared. He did not pick up his hat, but went on thumping his instrument and roaring with laughter. Old woman Wang called, "Reverend Fathers, you have finished your service. Why do you beat your instruments any longer?"

"We haven't set fire to the cover of a paper stove yet," one of the monks cried. Ximen Qing heard this, and told the old woman to give them their fee and send them packing, but the old monk insisted that they must see the lady first and thank her.

"Please tell them that is quite unnecessary," Jinlian said, but the monks answered with one voice, "Do let us go." Then, roaring with laughter, they all went off.