Embroidered Mandarin Ducks Foretell a Dream in Crimson Veranda; The Recognition of Fate Brings Enlightenment in Pear Fragrance Court

That day, after Lady Dowager had returned from Lady Wang’s quarters, she was naturally delighted to see Baoyu improving day by day. Fearing that Jia Zheng might again summon him to social engagements, she sent for the chief page who often accompanied Jia Zheng and instructed him: “From now on, whenever your master wishes to call Baoyu for guests or social duties, you need not pass the message. Tell him that I have said: first, the beating was severe, and he must rest well for several months before he can move about; second, his star is inauspicious, and after the star-offering rites he must not see outsiders—he is not to leave the inner gate until after the Eighth Month.” The page received the order and left. Lady Dowager also had Nurse Li, Xiren, and the others pass this word to Baoyu to set his mind at ease.

Now Baoyu had always loathed socializing with those scholar-official types, and detested donning formal robes and tall hats for congratulations, condolences, and tiresome formal calls. With this edict, he grew even more pleased, not only turning away all relatives and friends but also excusing himself from the daily morning and evening obeisances at home. He spent his days wandering idly in the garden, making only a single trip each morning to Lady Dowager and Lady Wang, and returning contentedly to serve as an errand-boy for his maids, passing his time in leisurely ease. Occasionally, when Baochai or others saw fit to offer him sensible advice, he would take offense, saying: “Here is a pure and innocent young lady, yet she has learned to chase fame and fortune, mixing with those national pests and careerist brutes. It is all because our predecessors, instead of doing good work, wrote books meant to guide those muddled, vulgar men of later ages. But unlucky me—even the women’s quarters have caught this contagion! What a waste of Heaven’s and Earth’s finest essences!” Thus he even condemned the ancients, burning all books except the Four Classics. Seeing his madness, no one bothered to lecture him anymore. Only Lin Daiyu had never once urged him to seek official distinction, and for that, Baoyu held her in deep esteem.

But enough of this digression. Let us now speak of Wang Xifeng. Since Jinniu’s death, she had noticed several servants’ families frequently sending her gifts and paying their respects, which aroused her suspicion. One evening, when no one was about, she asked Pinger with a smile: “These families usually have little to do with me—why are they suddenly so attentive?” Pinger sneered: “Can’t you guess, Mistress? Their daughters must be maids in Lady Wang’s household. Now, Lady Wang has four senior maids, each receiving a monthly allowance of one tael of silver; the rest get only a few hundred coppers. With Jinniu dead, they must be angling for that one-tael vacancy.” Xifeng laughed: “Right, right—you’ve reminded me. These people are too greedy. They’ve already made enough money and avoid all hard work; having a daughter as a maid is good enough. But now they want this too. Very well—since their money comes easily and wouldn’t reach me otherwise, they’re offering it themselves. I’ll take whatever they give, and keep my own counsel.” With that in mind, she deliberately delayed, waiting until their gifts had piled up, then chose a moment to report to Lady Wang.

That noon, while Aunt Xue, Baochai, Lin Daiyu, and others were eating at Lady Wang’s, Xifeng took the opportunity to report: “Since Sister Jinniu died, you’ve been short one maid, madam. If you’ve settled on which girl you like, just say the word, and I’ll arrange the monthly stipend starting next month.” Lady Wang thought for a moment and said: “In my view, why stick to rules? We don’t need exactly four or five—enough to serve is fine. Let’s just not replace her.” Xifeng smiled: “In principle, you’re right. But this is an old rule; even in other rooms they have two maids each. If you, madam, don’t follow the rule, it’s not fitting. Besides, saving one tael is trivial.” Lady Wang considered again, then said: “Very well—keep drawing the allowance as usual, but don’t fill the vacancy. Give that one tael to her younger sister, Yuchuan. Her elder sister served me well and came to no good end; it’s only fair that the younger sister, staying with me, gets double.” Xifeng agreed and turned to call Yuchuan, saying: “Great news!” Yuchuan came and kowtowed. Lady Wang then asked: “By the way, what are the monthly allowances for Concubine Zhao and Concubine Zhou?” Xifeng replied: “That’s fixed—two taels each. Concubine Zhao also gets two taels for Huan’s upkeep, making four taels total, plus four strings of cash.” Lady Wang asked: “Are they paid in full?” Xifeng, surprised by the question, quickly said: “Of course they are!” Lady Wang said: “The other day I vaguely heard complaints that one string of cash was short—why?” Xifeng hurriedly explained: “The maids of the concubines used to get one string each. But last year the outside office decided to cut their allowances in half—five hundred coppers per maid, and each concubine has two maids, so one string was cut. That’s not my doing—I’d gladly give them more, but the outside office deducts it; I can’t add it myself. I merely administer what comes in and goes out—I have no say. I even spoke twice about restoring the two shares, but they said the budget was fixed, so I couldn’t press further. Now I pay them on time every month. In the old days, when the outside office handled it, there was never a month without shortages—never once went smoothly.” Lady Wang let it drop, then after a while asked: “How many one-tael maids does the old lady have?” Xifeng said: “Eight. Now only seven, because one is Xiren.” Lady Wang said: “I see. Your precious Baoyu doesn’t have any one-tael maid—Xiren still counts as the old lady’s.” Xifeng laughed: “Xiren was originally Grandmother’s maid, just assigned to Baoyu. Her tael is still drawn from Grandmother’s quota. If we cut that because she serves Baoyu, that’s impossible. If we want to give Grandmother a replacement, then we could cut her quota—but unless we also add one for Huan’s room to keep things fair. As for the seven senior maids like Qingwen and Sheyue, they get one string each, and the eight junior maids like Jiahui get five hundred coppers each—that’s still Grandmother’s arrangement, so nobody can complain.” Aunt Xue laughed: “Listen to that tongue of Phoenix’s—like a cartload of walnuts tumbling out! She keeps accounts straight and reasons fair.” Xifeng smiled: “Auntie, am I wrong?” Aunt Xue said: “Not at all—just speak slower and save your breath.” Xifeng was about to laugh but held back, waiting for Lady Wang’s decision.

Lady Wang thought for a long while, then told Xifeng: “Tomorrow, pick a good girl to send to the old lady to fill Xiren’s old slot, and cut Xiren’s share from that quota. Out of my monthly twenty taels, I will give two taels and one string of cash to Xiren. From now on, whatever allowances Concubine Zhao and Concubine Zhou get, Xiren gets the same—but her share comes from my personal allowance, not from the public household funds.” Xifeng agreed one by one, then smilingly nudged Aunt Xue: “Auntie, you heard that—didn’t I always say so? Today my words have come true.” Aunt Xue said: “It should have been done long ago. Her looks go without saying, and her conduct is generous, her speech gentle yet firm—truly admirable.” Lady Wang said tearfully: “You don’t know the good in that girl Xiren—she’s ten times better than my Baoyu! If Baoyu has any luck, to have her serve him for life, that would be enough.” Xifeng said: “Then why not formally make her his concubine—open her face and put her in his room?” Lady Wang replied: “That won’t do. First, they are both young; second, the master would not permit it; third, as long as Baoyu sees her as a maid, even if he is willful, he listens to her advice. But if she becomes his formal concubine, she wouldn’t dare to remonstrate as freely. Let’s leave it vague for now, and wait another two or three years.”

After a long silence, Xifeng saw there was nothing more to say and turned to leave. As she reached the corridor, several managing matrons were waiting to report to her. Seeing her, they smiled: “What business kept you so long, mistress? You must be overheated.” Xifeng rolled up her sleeves, set her foot on the threshold of the corner gate, and laughed: “The draft here is cool—I’ll blow a bit before going.” Then she told them: “You think I talked for ages? Madam dug up things from two hundred years ago to ask me—how could I not answer?” She added with a cold sneer: “From now on, I’ll do some harsh things. Let them complain to madam—I don’t care. Those muddle-headed, foul-tongued, worthless wretches—dream on! There’ll come a day when I settle accounts all at once. Now they grumble because I cut a maid’s allowance. They forget their own lowly station—how dare they think they deserve two or three maids!” Scolding as she went, she left to choose a girl and report to Lady Dowager—but we need not dwell on that.

Meanwhile, Lady Wang and the others finished their watermelon, chatted a while, and dispersed. Baochai and Daiyu returned to the garden, where Baochai proposed a visit to Lotus Pavilion, but Daiyu said she needed a bath, so they parted. Baochai walked alone, and on her way, she turned into Happy Red Court, thinking to chat with Baoyu to relieve her afternoon drowsiness. Entering the courtyard, she found utter silence—even two cranes were asleep under the banana trees. She followed the covered walkway into the main room, where on the outer bed lay maids sprawled in disarray. Passing the ornamental screen, she entered Baoyu’s chamber. Baoyu was asleep on the bed; Xiren sat beside him, doing needlework, with a white horsetail whisk nearby. Baochai approached and whispered with a smile: “You’re too careful—there are no flies or mosquitoes in this room. Why still wave that whisk?” Xiren, startled, looked up and saw Baochai. She quickly put down her work and rose, whispering: “Oh, miss, I didn’t notice you—you gave me a fright. You don’t know, but though there are no big pests, there are tiny midges that creep through the gauze—invisible, yet they bite like ants when one sleeps.” Baochai said: “No wonder. The back of this house is near water and full of fragrant flowers, and the room itself is sweet. Such insects breed in flower hearts and swarm to the scent.” As she spoke, she examined the needlework—it was a white silk bellyband lined with red, embroidered with a pattern of mandarin ducks playing among lotus blossoms, with red petals, green leaves, and five-colored ducks. Baochai exclaimed: “Oh, what vivid work! Whose is this, worth such effort?” Xiren nodded toward the bed. Baochai laughed: “At his age, does he still wear this?” Xiren smiled: “He didn’t want to, so I specially made it so he’d have to wear it when he sees it. In this heat, he sleeps carelessly; if I coax him into wearing it, even if he throws off the covers at night, it’ll protect him. You think this one took work—you haven’t seen the one he has on now.” Baochai laughed: “You have wonderful patience.” Xiren said: “I’ve been at it too long today—my neck is sore.” Then she added with a smile: “Dear miss, please sit a while—I’ll step out for a moment.” And she left. Baochai, absorbed in admiring the work, absentmindedly sat down in Xiren’s place, and finding the embroidery so charming, she took up the needle and began to stitch a few petals herself.

Now Lin Daiyu, having met Shi Xiangyun, had invited her to congratulate Xiren. They entered the courtyard and found it quiet; Xiangyun turned aside to look for Xiren in the side rooms. Daiyu, however, came to the window and peered through the gauze—inside, Baoyu lay on the bed in a silver-red gauze shirt, sound asleep, while Baochai sat beside him doing embroidery, with the whisk nearby. Seeing this, Daiyu quickly hid herself, clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, and beckoned to Xiangyun. Xiangyun, thinking there was some news, came and looked—and almost laughed too, but remembering how kind Baochai had always been to her, she held back. Knowing Daiyu’s teasing nature, she tugged her away, saying: “Let’s go. I recall Xiren said she was going to the pond to wash clothes at noon—she’s probably there. Let’s find her there.” Daiyu understood, gave two cold laughs, and followed her away.

Meanwhile, Baochai had just embroidered two or three petals when suddenly she heard Baoyu murmur in his sleep: “How can one believe the words of monks and Taoists? What ‘golden and jade union’? I say it’s the ‘wood and stone affinity’!” Startled, Baochai froze. Just then Xiren returned and said with a smile: “Still not awake?” Baochai shook her head. Xiren added: “I just ran into Miss Lin and Miss Shi—did they come in?” Baochai said: “I didn’t see them.” Then she smiled at Xiren: “Didn’t they tell you anything?” Xiren laughed: “Just their usual jokes—nothing serious.” Baochai said: “Their words weren’t jokes—I was about to tell you, but you hurried out.”

Before she finished, a maid sent by Xifeng came to call Xiren. Baochai smiled: “That’s about the matter.” Xiren had to rouse two maids and left Happy Red Court with Baochai, heading to Xifeng’s place. Indeed, Xifeng told her the news and had her kowtow to Lady Wang—she need not see Lady Dowager just yet, which left Xiren quite embarrassed. After paying respects to Lady Wang, she hurried back. Baoyu had woken up and asked what happened; Xiren gave vague answers. That night, when all was quiet, she told him everything. Baoyu was overjoyed and laughed: “Now I’d like to see who dares call you away! That time you went home and came back saying your brother wanted to redeem you, and that you had no place here—you said such heartless things to scare me. From now on, I’ll see who can take you.” Xiren sneered: “Don’t say that. From now on I am Madam’s person—if I want to leave, I needn’t even tell you; I’ll just report to Madam and go.” Baoyu laughed: “Even if I’m at fault, if you go and tell Madam, people will hear I’m no good—and you’ll be embarrassed too.” Xiren said: “Why embarrassed? If you turn into a thief or bandit, would I still follow? Besides, there’s always death—a hundred years, and we all die; when breath stops, we see and hear nothing more.” Hearing this, Baoyu quickly covered her mouth: “Enough, enough—don’t say such things.” Xiren knew Baoyu’s strange temperament—he found flattery and auspicious words tedious and insincere, yet these blunt truths moved him to sadness. Regretting her rashness, she smilingly changed the subject, asking about things he liked—spring breezes, autumn moons, then delicate powders and radiant complexions, then how wonderful girls were, and then about girls dying—but she stopped herself. Baoyu, caught up in the flow, laughed when she paused: “Who doesn’t die? It only matters how one dies. Those muddled, vulgar men think that ‘dying for remonstrance’ or ‘dying in battle’ is heroic—but it’s better not to die at all! If a ruler is so benighted, one should remonstrate—but to recklessly throw away one’s life for fame, what becomes of the ruler? If there is war, one fights—but to seek martial glory and die needlessly, what becomes of the state? So neither counts as a worthy death.” Xiren said: “Loyal ministers and good generals die only when they must.” Baoyu said: “A warrior who relies on brute courage without strategy, who dies because of his own incompetence—is that ‘must’? The civil officials are worse—they memorize a few texts, and if the court makes a slight error, they rant and remonstrate, seeking only the name of loyalty, and in a surge of passion die on the spot—is that ‘must’? You must know that the sovereign receives his mandate from Heaven. If he were not sage or benevolent, Heaven would never give him the heavy burden of state. Thus those who die are merely seeking fame; they do not understand true righteousness. For instance, if I am lucky enough to die at this very moment, while you are all here, and if I could have your tears flow into a great river to float away my corpse to some remote, birdless, desolate place, where it dissolves with the wind, and I never be reborn as a human—that would be my perfect death.” Xiren, hearing such ravings, said she was tired and ignored him. Baoyu soon fell asleep, and by next morning he had forgotten the matter.

One day, weary of aimless wandering, Baoyu recalled the opera Peony Pavilion. He read the libretto twice but still felt unsatisfied. Hearing that among the twelve actresses in Pear Fragrance Court, the young dan performer Lingguan sang best, he went out through the side gate to find her. He found Baoguan and Yuguan in the courtyard; they greeted him cheerfully and offered seats. He asked where Lingguan was, and they said she was in her room. He went in, but Lingguan lay alone on her bed and did not stir when he entered. Baoyu, used to playing with other girls, assumed she was like the rest; he sat beside her and coaxingly begged her to sing the “Wisp of Gossamer” aria. But Lingguan quickly sat up and moved away, saying sternly: “My voice is hoarse. The other day the Empress summoned us, and I didn’t even sing then.” Baoyu then recognized her as the girl who had been tracing the character “Qiang” under the roses that day. Never before had he been treated with such disdain; embarrassed, he flushed and left. Baoguan and the others wondered why, and he told them, then walked out. Baoguan said: “Just wait a little—when Master Qiang comes, she’ll sing for him.” Baoyu felt puzzled and asked: “Where’s Qiang-ge?” “He went out—probably to get something Lingguan wanted.”

Baoyu found this strange. After a short while, sure enough, Jia Qiang arrived from outside, carrying a birdcage with a miniature stage and a bird, and strode eagerly toward Lingguan’s room. Seeing Baoyu, he stopped. Baoyu asked: “What bird is that—can it carry flags and act on stage?” Jia Qiang smiled: “It’s a ‘Gold-bean with Jade Crown.’” “How much?” “One tael eight mace of silver.” He invited Baoyu to sit and then went in to Lingguan. Baoyu now lost all interest in the aria and watched to see what passed between them. Jia Qiang entered cheerfully: “Get up and look at this toy.” Lingguan rose and asked what it was. He said: “I bought you this bird to amuse you—so you won’t be so bored all day. Watch me show you.” He then scattered some grain to make the bird dart about the miniature stage and pick up a flag with a ghost-face. The other girls all cried “How fun!” but Lingguan gave two cold laughs and went back to bed in a huff. Jia Qiang still smiled and asked if she liked it. She said: “Your family took innocent girls and locked them in this cage to learn this nonsense—and now you bring a bird to do the same trick. You’re clearly mocking us—and you ask if I like it?” Jia Qiang, flustered, swore he meant no harm. “I must have been muddled today! I spent one or two taels to buy it for your amusement—I never thought of that. All right, I’ll set it free, to spare you any ill feeling.” And indeed he released the bird and broke the cage. Lingguan still said: “That bird, though not human, has its own old bird in its nest—how could you bear to take it and make it do this? Today I coughed up blood, and the doctor was called—but you didn’t ask about me carefully; instead you bring this to mock me. And here I am, unloved and uncared for, always sick.” She wept again. Jia Qiang hurriedly said: “Last night I asked the doctor—he said it’s nothing serious. He said take two doses, and we’ll see the day after. But now you coughed again—I’ll call him back.” As he was about to go, Lingguan called: “Stop! Under this blazing sun, if you go in a huff, even if you bring him, I won’t see him.” So he had to stop. Baoyu, witnessing all this, was transfixed—and finally understood the depth of her “Qiang” tracing. He could not stay; he slipped away. Jia Qiang, wholly absorbed in Lingguan, did not see him out; the other girls saw him to the gate.

Baoyu, lost in thought, returned to Happy Red Court, where he found Lin Daiyu and Xiren sitting and talking. He sighed deeply to Xiren: “Last night I was wrong—no wonder Father called me ‘narrow-minded as a tube gazing at the sky.’ Last night I said your tears would bury me alone—that was mistaken. I cannot have them all. From now on, each person has only their own tears.” Xiren had forgotten her joking words of the night before, and now laughed: “You truly are mad.” Baoyu said nothing more, but from then on deeply understood that human affections and fates are each predetermined—though he often secretly grieved: “Who will shed tears for me when I am buried?” Such were his private thoughts, not to be fully fathomed.

At that moment, seeing Baoyu in such a state, Daiyu knew he had been bewitched by something again, and did not press him. She said: “I just heard from Aunt that tomorrow is Aunt Xue’s birthday, and I was to ask if you’ll go. Send word ahead.” Baoyu said: “I didn’t even go to Great-Uncle’s birthday last time—why go now and risk meeting people? I’m not going anywhere. It’s so hot, and I’d have to dress up—Auntie won’t be angry.” Xiren interjected: “What are you saying? This is different from Great-Uncle. She lives nearby, and she’s a relative—if you don’t go, she’ll think too much. If you hate the heat, just go early in the morning, kowtow, have a cup of tea, and come back—that would be proper.” Baoyu said nothing, but Daiyu laughed first: “For the sake of her shooing away mosquitoes for you, you ought to go.” Baoyu asked in surprise: “What about mosquitoes?” Xiren then told how yesterday, with no one else around, Miss Baochai had sat with him while he slept. Baoyu at once said: “How rude of me! I fell asleep and slighted her.” Then he added: “I’ll go tomorrow without fail.”

Just then, Shi Xiangyun arrived, dressed neatly, to take leave—her family had sent a carriage for her. Baoyu and Daiyu rose and offered her a seat, but she would not sit, so they escorted her to the front. Xiangyun’s eyes were brimming with tears, though she dared not show her full distress before her family servants. Soon Baochai arrived, and the parting grew ever more tender. Baochai, knowing that if the servants reported back to Xiangyun’s aunt, she might be ill-treated at home, urged her to go quickly. They saw her to the second gate; Baoyu wanted to escort her further, but Xiangyun stopped him. Then she called him closer and whispered: “If the old lady forgets about me, you must often remind her to send for me.” Baoyu repeatedly promised. They watched her carriage depart, then all returned inside. To know what follows, listen to the next chapter.