Chapter 17
After Qin Zhong's death, Baoyu wept bitterly, and it was only with great difficulty that Li Gui and the others managed to calm him. He returned home still grief-stricken. The Dowager gave several dozen taels of silver and prepared additional funeral offerings, and Baoyu went to pay his respects. After seven days, the funeral was held and the burial completed—nothing worth recording. But Baoyu remained lost in sorrow and longing day after day—yet there was nothing to be done.
Time passed, and one day Jia Zhen and the others came to report to Jia Zheng: "The garden project is now complete. The elder master has already inspected it; we await your approval. If there are any imperfections, they can be altered before the plaques and couplets are inscribed." Jia Zheng pondered for a moment and said, "The plaques and couplets are a difficult matter. By rights, we should ask the Imperial Consort to inscribe them herself. But since she has not yet seen the scenery, she would likely not wish to make arbitrary choices. Yet if we wait until her visit to ask for inscriptions, all these pavilions, terraces, and lodges will lack literary titles, and the vast scenery, however lovely, will seem cold and cheerless. Even the flowers, willows, hills, and waters will not shine as they should." The visiting scholars smiled and said, "You are absolutely right. We have a humble suggestion: plaques and couplets are indispensable, but the names need not be final. For now, let us draft provisional titles—two, three, or four characters, according to each scene—and hang them as temporary lantern plaques and couplets. When the Imperial Consort visits, we can then request her to give the definitive names. Would that not satisfy both needs?" Jia Zheng and the others agreed, "That is a sound idea. Let us go and look at the garden today and make our proposals. If they are suitable, we shall use them; if not, we can invite Yucun to compose new ones." The scholars laughed, "If you compose them today, they are sure to be excellent—why wait for Yucun?" Jia Zheng smiled, "You do not know—I have never been good at versifying on flowers, birds, hills, and waters. Now that I am older and burdened with official papers, I am even more out of practice in such elegant pastimes. Even if I compose something, it will likely be pedantic and stiff, hardly doing justice to the flowers, willows, and pavilions. It would be better not to try." The scholars said, "That is no problem. Let us all look at the scenes together and propose titles according to our strengths; we can keep the good ones and discard the bad. That should work." Jia Zheng said, "An excellent proposal. Fortunately the weather is warm today—let us all go and take a look." With that he rose and led the way.
Jia Zhen went ahead to the garden to inform the attendants. It happened that Baoyu, still grieving over Qin Zhong, had lately been sent by the Dowager to the garden to amuse himself. He had just entered when Jia Zhen came up and said with a smile, "You'd better leave—the master is coming." Baoyu, with his nannies and pages, slipped out of the garden like a wisp of smoke. But as he turned the corner, he ran straight into Jia Zheng and the guests coming the other way. Unable to avoid them, he stood at the side. Jia Zheng, having recently heard the schoolmaster praise Baoyu's skill at composing couplets—though he was not fond of formal study, he seemed to have some crooked talent—now chanced upon this opportunity and ordered him to come along. Baoyu had no choice but to follow, not knowing what was intended.
When Jia Zheng reached the garden gate, he saw Jia Zhen standing there with many attendants. Jia Zheng said, "Close all the gates first. We shall examine the outside before entering." Jia Zhen had the gates shut. Jia Zheng first examined the main gate: it had five bays, with curved tile ridges and fish-scale roof-tiles; the doors, railings, and windows were exquisitely carved in fresh patterns, without any gaudy paint or vermilion—all were of polished brick, with white stone steps carved in exotic floral designs. Looking left and right, he saw snow-white plaster walls faced with tiger-skin stone, laid in harmonious curves. It was indeed free from vulgar ostentation, and he was pleased. He ordered the gate opened. Before them rose a screen of emerald hills. The scholars all exclaimed, "Fine hills, fine hills!" Jia Zheng said, "Without this screen, one would see the whole garden at a glance—where would be the pleasure?" They all agreed. "Indeed—unless one has great hills and valleys in one's heart, one could never conceive this." As they looked ahead, they saw white stones towering—some like demons, some like fierce beasts, rising in wild profusion, their surfaces mottled with moss and draped with creepers, among which a narrow winding path could just be seen. Jia Zheng said, "We shall enter by this path and come out by another, so we may see everything."
He then ordered Jia Zhen to lead the way, while he himself leaned on Baoyu and entered the winding mountain pass. Looking up, he saw a smooth white stone like a mirror—an ideal spot for an inscription. Jia Zheng turned and smiled, "Gentlemen, what name would be best for this place?" Some suggested "Layered Jade," others "Brocade Screen," others "Rival to the Incense Burner," others "Little Zhongnan"—dozens of names were proposed. The scholars, knowing Jia Zheng wished to test Baoyu's progress, only offered conventional phrases. Baoyu, too, guessed this. Jia Zheng then ordered Baoyu to propose one. Baoyu said, "I have heard the ancients say: 'To compose something new is not as good as quoting something old; to carve something modern is not as good as engraving something ancient.' Besides, this is not the main mountain or the principal view—merely a transition leading to the deeper scenes. It would be best to inscribe directly the old line 'A winding path leads to a secluded spot'—that would be both dignified and grand." The scholars all praised him: "Excellent! The young master has rare natural gifts and profound talent—unlike us dullards who have read our books to a pulp." Jia Zheng smiled, "Do not overpraise him. He is young and merely makes one scrap of knowledge serve for ten—it's only for a laugh. We shall consider other proposals later."
So saying, they entered the stone grotto. They saw lush trees, dazzling rare flowers, and a clear stream winding through the flowers and trees, trickling down through crevices in the rocks. A few steps further north, the ground opened out; towering pavilions rose on both sides, their carved eaves and balustrades half-hidden among the hills and treetops. Below, a clear stream poured down like melting snow; stone steps climbed through the clouds; white stone balustrades encircled the pool; a three-arched stone bridge had beast-heads spouting water. On the bridge stood a pavilion. Jia Zheng and the party ascended, leaned on the balustrade, and sat down. "What would you propose for this?" he asked. One said, "Master Ouyang's Story of the Drunkard's Pavilion says, 'A pavilion spreads its wings'—let us call it 'Spreading Wings.'" Jia Zheng smiled, "'Spreading Wings' is good, but this pavilion is built over the water—it should have a name relating to water to be fitting. In my poor opinion, Ouyang's phrase 'pours out between two peaks'—let us use that character 'pour.'" Another said, "Exactly—'Pouring Jade' would be excellent." Jia Zheng stroked his beard in thought, then noticed Baoyu standing by, and told him to propose one too. Baoyu promptly answered, "Your proposal is very good. But on reflection, Ouyang's use of 'pour' for the Brewing Spring was apt; for this spring, however, the same character seems less fitting. Besides, though this is a villa for the Imperial Consort's visit, it should observe the proper decorum; such a word strikes me as rather crude and inelegant. I beg to propose something more subtle and restrained." Jia Zheng laughed, "What do you all think of that? Just now he argued for quoting the old rather than inventing the new, and now that we quote the old, he finds it crude. Let us hear your proposal." Baoyu said, "Instead of 'Pouring Jade,' why not 'Engulfing Fragrance'? Is that not fresh and elegant?" Jia Zheng stroked his beard and nodded without speaking. The others all chimed in, praising Baoyu's uncommon talent. Jia Zheng said, "Two characters for the plaque are easy. Now compose a seven-character couplet." Baoyu stood in the pavilion, looked around, and was inspired. He recited:
The willows by the bank borrow three spans of green;
The flowers across the stream share a single vein of fragrance.
Jia Zheng nodded and smiled, while the others showered him with praise.
They left the pavilion, crossed the pool, and examined every hill and stone, every flower and tree with care. Looking up, they saw a white wall with several rooms half-hidden behind bamboo—thousands of emerald stalks screening them. Everyone said, "What a fine spot!" They entered and saw a winding covered walkway, with a pebbled path under the steps. There were two or three small rooms, one bright and two dim, with beds, tables, chairs, and desks all built to fit the space. A small door in the inner room led to a back courtyard with large pear trees and plantains, and two small retiring-rooms. At the back wall, a gap opened to let in a stream, about a foot wide, which ran along the steps and by the house to the front courtyard, winding out among the bamboos.
Jia Zheng laughed, "This place is not bad. If one could sit by this window reading on a moonlit night, one would not have lived in vain." He glanced at Baoyu, who quickly hung his head. The scholars changed the subject and said, "This place should have a four-character plaque." Jia Zheng asked which four. One said, "The Spirit of the Qi River." Jia Zheng said, "Common." Another said, "The Elegant Traces of Sui Garden." Jia Zheng said, "Common too." Jia Zhen laughed, "Let Brother Bao propose one." Jia Zheng said, "Before he has composed anything, he criticizes others—that shows his frivolity." The scholars said, "But his criticisms are fair—we can't fault him." Jia Zheng said, "Do not indulge him." He told Baoyu, "Today you are free to be as wild as you like—but after you have given your criticism, you must produce something. Of the names proposed just now, is any acceptable?" Baoyu answered, "None seems quite right." Jia Zheng sneered, "Why not?" Baoyu said, "This is the first place Her Highness will visit—the inscription must honour the Emperor. And there are ready-made ancient phrases for a four-character plaque—why make a new one?" Jia Zheng said, "Are 'Qi River' and 'Sui Garden' not ancient?" Baoyu said, "They are too staid and pedantic. I propose 'The Phoenix Has Come'—four characters." Everyone applauded. Jia Zheng nodded, "You beast, you beast—you may call it 'looking through a tube at the sky.' Now compose a couplet." Baoyu recited:
When tea is done by the tripod, the smoke still lingers green;
After chess by the dark window, the fingers still feel cool.
Jia Zheng shook his head, "No improvement." He led them out.
Just as they were leaving, he remembered something and asked Jia Zhen, "The buildings, rooms, and furnishings are accounted for—are the curtains, hangings, screens, and all the ornaments and antiques also prepared and matched for each place?" Jia Zhen answered, "Many ornaments have already been added—they will be properly arranged when the time comes. As for hangings and curtains, I heard from Cousin Lian yesterday that some are still missing. Plans were drawn up at the start of construction, with all measurements, and people were sent to procure them. I believe half have arrived." Jia Zheng, knowing this was not Jia Zhen's direct responsibility, sent for Jia Lian.
When Jia Lian arrived, Jia Zheng asked how many kinds there were, how many had been received, and how many were still lacking. Jia Lian took out a folded list from his boot and glanced at it, replying, "There are one hundred and twenty large hangings of embroidered satin, kesi silk, and various damasks—eighty have arrived, forty are due. Two hundred curtains—all received. In addition, two hundred felt curtains, two hundred red-lacquered bamboo curtains with gold-thread vines, two hundred black-lacquered bamboo curtains, and two hundred flowered curtains with five-coloured tassels—half of each are in, and the rest should arrive by autumn. As for chair-covers, table-covers, bed-skirts, and table-cloths—one thousand two hundred of each—those are also ready."
They walked and talked, until a green hill slanted across their path. Turning around it, they glimpsed a low wall of yellow earth, topped with rice-stalks. Hundreds of apricot trees blazed like flame or rosy clouds. Inside were a few thatched huts. Outside were young mulberry, elm, hibiscus, and mulberry trees, their new branches bent into two rows of green hedges. Below the hedge, by the hillside, was an earthen well, with a well-sweep and windlass beside it. Beyond, divided into plots, stretched endless rows of vegetables and flowers.
Jia Zheng smiled, "This place has some charm. Though it is man-made, at first sight it stirs thoughts of returning to farming. Let us go in and rest." As they approached the hedge-gate, they saw a stone tablet by the roadside, also for inscription. The scholars exclaimed, "Even better! If we hung a plaque here, it would spoil the rustic character. This stone tablet adds much to the scene—nothing less than Fan Shihu's poems on farming could do it justice." Jia Zheng said, "Gentlemen, please propose." They said, "As the young master said, 'To compose new is not as good as quoting old.' The ancients have already said it all—simply inscribe 'Apricot Village'—that would be perfect." Jia Zheng laughed and said to Jia Zhen, "You've reminded me—this place is excellent, but it still lacks a wine-shop sign. Have one made tomorrow—not ornate, but in the style of a country tavern, hung on a bamboo pole among the trees." Jia Zhen agreed, and added, "We should not keep other birds here—only geese, ducks, and chickens, to match the setting." Jia Zheng and the others said, "Even better." Jia Zheng then said, "'Apricot Village' is good, but it clashes with the formal name—the village name must be decided later." The scholars said, "True. For the provisional title, what words shall we use?"
While they were thinking, Baoyu could not wait. Without waiting for his father's leave, he said, "An old poem says, 'Above the apricot branch the wine-shop sign hangs.' I propose 'Apricot Sign in Sight'—four characters." Everyone said, "Excellent—'in sight' also hints at 'Apricot Village.'" Baoyu said with a cold smile, "If the village is named 'Apricot,' it would be utterly vulgar. Another ancient poem says, 'By the wicker gate, near the water, the rice flowers are fragrant'—why not use 'Rice-Fragrance Village'? That would be excellent." The company clapped their hands in applause. Jia Zheng shouted sternly, "Ignorant wretch! How many ancients do you know, how many poems can you recite, that you dare show off before these gentlemen? Your wild talk earlier was only to test your judgement—and you take it seriously!"
He led them into the thatched hall, with paper windows and wooden couches, all ostentation swept away. Jia Zheng was inwardly pleased, but he looked at Baoyu and asked, "How do you like this place?" The scholars nudged Baoyu and whispered to him to say it was good. But Baoyu, ignoring them, answered, "It is far inferior to 'The Phoenix Has Come.'" Jia Zheng said, "Ignorant fool! You only know painted towers and gaudy splendour—you cannot appreciate this pure and tranquil atmosphere. It is the fault of your neglect of books!" Baoyu quickly replied, "Your instruction is indeed correct, but I have a question: what do the ancients mean by the word 'natural'?"
The scholars, seeing Baoyu so stubborn, thought him foolish. At his question on "natural," they said, "Surely you know that—'natural' means what is so by Heaven, not made by human effort." Baoyu said, "There you are! This farm scene is clearly contrived and artificial. It has no neighbouring village, no city nearby; it backs onto hills but has no mountain veins, faces water but has no source; there is no pagoda on the heights, no bridge to the market—it stands isolated and abrupt, hardly fitting for a grand view. It cannot compare with the earlier spots, which have natural principles and natural atmosphere—even the planted bamboos and channelled water are not forced. The ancients spoke of 'natural pictures' precisely because they feared that if a place is not naturally suited, and one forces it into being, however ingenious, it will never be quite right..." Before he finished, Jia Zheng, furious, ordered, "Get him out!" No sooner had he gone than he called him back. "Compose a couplet—if it is not good, I shall also have your mouth slapped!" Baoyu had to recite:
New green rises where the washing-grass is steeped;
Sweet clouds shelter those who gather the water-cress.
Jia Zheng shook his head, "Even worse." He led the party out, around the hillside, through flowers and willows, past rocks and springs, under the trellis of tea-roses, through the woodbine arbour, by the peony pavilion, across the herbaceous peony garden, into the rose courtyard, and out of the plantain grove—winding and turning. Suddenly they heard the murmur of water gushing from a stone grotto, with trailing vines above and floating petals below. Everyone exclaimed, "What a lovely scene!" Jia Zheng asked for a name. One said, "No need to think—'Peach Blossom Spring' fits perfectly." Jia Zheng laughed, "Too literal and trite." Another said, "Then how about 'Old Home of the Qin People'?" Baoyu said, "That is even more obvious—'Old Home of the Qin People' suggests fleeing from war—how could that be suitable? Better 'Reed-Fringed Shore and Flowering Creek.'" Jia Zheng dismissed it as nonsense.
As they were about to enter the water-grotto, someone asked if there were boats. Jia Zhen said, "There are four lotus-picking boats and one pleasure-boat, not yet finished." Jia Zheng laughed, "A pity we cannot enter by water." Jia Zhen said, "We can go up the mountain path." He led the way, and they climbed by grasping vines and trees. The floating blossoms grew thicker, the water clearer, flowing in winding curves. Two rows of weeping willows by the pool, interspersed with peaches and apricots, shaded the sky and sun, not a speck of dust in sight. In the willow shade, a red-railed zigzag bridge appeared. Crossing it, they found paths leading everywhere, to a cool, tiled cottage with polished brick walls and green-tiled ornamental battlements. The branching veins of the main mountain passed through the walls.
Jia Zheng said, "This building is rather dull." Entering, they saw a towering, fantastically shaped rock jutting out, surrounded by all sorts of stones, hiding all the rooms within. There was not a single flower or tree, but many strange plants: some trailing vines, some creeping tendrils, some hanging from the cliffs, some piercing the rocks, some draping over eaves and winding round pillars and steps—some like drifting green ribbons, some like coiling golden ropes; some bore fruits like cinnabar, some flowers like golden osmanthus, with a rich fragrance unlike any ordinary flower. Jia Zheng laughed, "Interesting! But I cannot identify most of them." One said, "They are fig and wistaria." Jia Zheng said, "Fig and wistaria do not have such a rare fragrance." Baoyu said, "Indeed not. Some of these are fig and wistaria, but the fragrant ones are angelica and sweet flag; that one is probably orchid; that one is perhaps clear kudzu; that one is golden sedge; that one is jade-root vine; the red ones are purple rue, and the green ones are blue iris. I recall that the strange plants mentioned in the Li Sao and the Selections include things like huo-na, jiang-xun, lun-zu, zi-jiang, shi-fan, shui-song, fu-liu, and also lü-ti, dan-jiao, mi-wu, feng-lian. But as years have passed, people no longer recognize them, and have given them names based on appearance, so they have gradually been misnamed." Before he finished, Jia Zheng shouted, "Who asked you?" Baoyu stepped back in fright and dared not speak further.
Jia Zheng saw covered corridors on both sides and followed them. Above were five summer pavilions connected by a curved roof, surrounded by corridors on all sides, with green windows and lacquered walls—more refined and elegant than the previous places. Jia Zheng sighed, "In this pavilion, one could brew tea and play the zither, without needing rare incense. This construction is remarkable—you gentlemen must have fine new inscriptions for its plaque, to do it justice." They said, "Nothing could be more fitting than 'Orchid Breeze and Orchid Dew.'" Jia Zheng said, "Those four characters will do. And the couplet?" One said, "I have thought of a pair—please revise it." He recited:
The musk and orchid fragrance fills the courtyard at sunset;
The angelica scent drifts over the moonlit isle.
They said, "Fine, but 'sunset' is not quite right." He quoted, "An old poem says, 'In her hands she holds the sweet flag, weeping at the slanting sun.'" They said, "Mournful, mournful." Another said, "I have a couplet too—let me hear your judgement." He recited:
Fragrant breezes from the three paths waft over jade orchids;
Moonlight fills the courtyard, shining on golden orchids.
Jia Zheng stroked his beard and pondered, wishing to compose one himself. He looked up and saw Baoyu standing by, not daring to speak. He shouted, "When you should speak, why are you silent? Must we invite you?" Baoyu answered, "This place has nothing like 'orchid,' 'musk,' 'moonlit isle,' or 'sandbar.' If we use such obvious words, we could compose two hundred couplets and still not be done." Jia Zheng said, "Who told you to use those words?" Baoyu said, "Then the plaque should be 'Pure Fragrance of Angelica and Iris.' The couplet:
When verses on cardamom are done, the talent still glows;
When sleep is sated beneath the rose, even dreams are sweet.
Jia Zheng laughed, "That's a mere imitation of 'When the written poem on banana leaves is done, the ink still seems green'—nothing special." The scholars said, "Li Bai's 'Phoenix Terrace' poem is a complete imitation of 'Yellow Crane Tower'—it only matters if the imitation is good. On careful comparison, this couplet is even more subtle and lively than 'Written on Banana Leaves'—that phrase seems to have been imitated from this one." Jia Zheng laughed, "Nonsense!"
They came out and walked a little further, when they saw lofty halls and towering pavilions surrounded by jade-like palaces, with long winding covered ways, green pines brushing the eaves, jade balustrades around the steps, golden beast-heads and brilliant dragon ornaments. Jia Zheng said, "This is the main hall—rather too magnificent." The scholars said, "It must be so. Though the Imperial Consort values frugality and dislikes extravagance, today her rank demands such ceremony—it is not excessive." As they walked, a white jade archway appeared before them, carved with coiling dragons and guardian beasts. Jia Zheng asked, "What inscription for this?" They said, "Surely 'Isle of the Immortals' would be best." Jia Zheng shook his head in silence. Baoyu, seeing this place, felt a strange stirring, as if he had seen it somewhere before, but could not recall when. Jia Zheng asked him to compose, but Baoyu was lost in thought and had no mind for it. The others, not understanding, thought he was exhausted from the day's ordeal and had run out of inspiration; fearing that if pressed he might become upset or cause trouble, they urged Jia Zheng, "Enough—let us leave the rest for tomorrow." Jia Zheng, also fearing the Dowager might worry, said with a cold laugh, "So even you have your limits! Very well—I give you one day. If you cannot do it tomorrow, I will not forgive you. This is an important place—make a good job of it!"
He led them out and, looking back, calculated that from the entrance to this point they had seen only five or six parts out of ten. Just then a messenger arrived from Yucun with some business. Jia Zheng laughed, "We cannot see the rest today. Still, let us go out that way—we may at least glimpse something." He led the party to a great bridge, where they saw water pouring through like a crystal curtain. This was the sluice connecting to the outer river, through which the spring entered. Jia Zheng asked, "What is this sluice called?" Baoyu said, "This is the source of the Engulfing Fragrance Spring—call it 'Engulfing Fragrance Sluice.'" Jia Zheng said, "Nonsense—we shall not use those two characters."
They walked on, passing clear halls and thatched huts, piled-stone walls and flower-woven windows, a secluded Buddhist nunnery at the foot of a hill, a Taoist alchemical chamber hidden in the woods, long corridors and winding grottoes, square halls and round pavilions—all of which Jia Zheng had no time to enter. Complaining of tired legs and having had no rest, he suddenly saw a courtyard ahead and smiled, "Here we must go in and rest." He led the party around a peach tree in full bloom and through a moon-gate woven of bamboo and flower-trellises, until they saw white walls enclosing the court, with green willows hanging all round. They entered.
Inside, covered corridors connected on both sides. In the courtyard were a few rockeries; on one side grew several plantains, on the other a crabapple tree whose branches spread like an umbrella, with green tassels hanging and blossoms like cinnabar. Everyone praised, "What a splendid flower! We have seen many crabapples, but never one so fine." Jia Zheng said, "This is called 'Maiden's Crabapple,' a foreign variety. Legend says it comes from the 'Kingdom of Women,' where it is most abundant—but that is just an absurd tale." They laughed, "Absurd as it is, how did the name become so enduring?" Baoyu said, "I imagine poets and scholars, seeing its pink flush like rouge and its fragile grace like a beauty in illness, thought it suited a maiden's manner, and so named it. Later, vulgar people used tales to confirm it, passing the error on until everyone took it for truth." They all nodded in admiration.
As they talked, they sat on couches set in the verandah. Jia Zheng asked, "What fresh characters can we propose for this place?" One said, "'Plantain and Crane' would be excellent." Another said, "'Radiant Splendour' would be better." Jia Zheng and the others said, "'Radiant Splendour' is good." Baoyu said, "Excellent. But it is a pity." They asked why. He said, "This place has both plantain and crabapple, suggesting the colours red and green. If we only mention the plantain, the crabapple is neglected; if only the crabapple, the plantain is lost. One without the other will not do." Jia Zheng said, "What would you propose?" Baoyu said, "I would inscribe 'Red Fragrance and Green Jade'—that would do justice to both." Jia Zheng shook his head, "Not good, not good!"
He led them into the rooms. These were arranged differently from elsewhere, with no visible partitions—all the walls were of carved openwork panels, in patterns of "clouds and bats," "three friends of winter," landscapes and figures, birds and flowers, or various auspicious designs, all carved by master craftsmen and inlaid with gold and jewels. Each section had niches for books, tripods, writing-brushes and inkstones, or vases and potted plants. The panels were of various shapes—round, square, sunflower, plantain, interlocking rings—truly a riot of colour and exquisite workmanship. Some were covered with coloured gauze as windows, some with light silk as doors. The walls were hollowed out in the shapes of antique ornaments, so that zithers, swords, hanging vases, and table-screens were set flush with the wall. Everyone admired the ingenious design, wondering how it had been conceived.
But after entering only a few steps, they lost their way—looking left, a door seemed to open; looking right, a window blocked the way; approaching, a bookshelf barred them; turning back, another window showed a passage; but when they reached the door, they saw a group of people coming towards them, exactly like themselves—it was a large glass mirror. Turning past the mirror, they found even more doors. Jia Zhen smiled, "Follow me—this door leads to the back courtyard, and from there we can get out more quickly than before." He led them through two more layers of gauze and brocade screens, and indeed they found a door leading to a courtyard full of roses and climbing flowers. Passing the flower-screen, they found a clear stream blocking their way. They wondered, "Where does this water come from?" Jia Zhen pointed, "It flows from the sluice to that grotto, from the northeast hill into the village, where a branch leads southwest, and here it all joins and flows out under the wall." They all said, "Ingenious!" Suddenly a great mountain blocked their path. "We are lost," they said. Jia Zhen smiled, "Follow me." He led them around the foot of the mountain, and suddenly they were on a broad, level road, and the great gate was before them. They all exclaimed, "Wonderful! Truly marvellous and ingenious!" And so they came out.
Baoyu, still anxious about the inner household and receiving no further orders from his father, had no choice but to follow to the study. Jia Zheng suddenly remembered him and shouted, "Why haven't you gone? Haven't you wandered enough? Think of the Dowager—she must be worried. Go in at once—your grandmother's love is wasted on you." Baoyu withdrew. We shall hear more in the next chapter.
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