Witty Lines from the Western Wing Convey Playful Words; Lovely Songs from the Peony Pavilion Alert a Tender Heart

After her visit to the Grand View Garden, Imperial Consort Yuanchun ordered that all the poems and inscriptions from that day be copied out neatly by Tanchun, arranged in order, and judged for their merits. She also ordered that they be carved on stones and erected in the Grand View Garden as a lasting monument to this elegant occasion. Jia Zheng accordingly sent for skilled craftsmen to polish the stones and engrave the characters. Jia Zhen, with Jia Rong and Jia Ping, supervised the work. Since Jia Qiang was occupied with the twelve actresses and their costumes, Jia Zhen called in Jia Chang and Jia Ling to oversee the project. They began the work of melting wax and setting vermilion characters. But we need not dwell on that.

Now the twelve young monks from the Jade Emperor Temple and the twelve young Taoists from the Dharma Hall had been moved out of the Grand View Garden, and Jia Zheng was considering sending them to various temples. It happened that Zhou, mother of Jia Qin, who lived in the back street, had been thinking of finding some small post for her son, so he could earn some money. Hearing of this, she took a sedan chair and went to beg Xifeng. Xifeng, seeing that the woman was usually unassuming, agreed and thought of a way to put it to Lady Wang. "Those little monks and Taoists absolutely must not be sent away," she said. "If Her Highness should come out again, they will be needed. If they are scattered, it will be troublesome to gather them again. My suggestion is to send them to our family temple, the Iron Threshold Temple, and just have one person go there each month with a few taels to buy firewood and rice. When they are needed, they can be fetched at once—no trouble at all." Lady Wang consulted Jia Zheng, who laughed, "That's a good reminder." He called for Jia Lian.

Now Jia Lian was having supper with Xifeng when he was summoned. Not knowing why, he put down his chopsticks and rose to go. Xifeng caught his sleeve and laughed, "Wait—listen to me. If it's something else, I don't care, but if it's about the little monks, please do as I say." She whispered instructions. Jia Lian laughed, "I don't know about that—if you've got the nerve, tell him yourself." Xifeng stiffened her neck, put down her chopsticks, and stared at him with a half-smile, "Are you serious, or joking?" Jia Lian laughed, "The son of Fifth Sister in the west corridor, Yun'er, has asked me several times for some work. I promised him to wait. Now at last something comes up, and you want to take it away." Xifeng laughed, "Don't worry. Her Highness said we should plant more pines and cypresses in the northeast corner of the garden, and flowers under the pavilions. When that work comes up, I'll make sure Yun'er gets it." Jia Lian said, "If so, that's fine. But last night, when I wanted to try something different, you were so shy and awkward." Xifeng burst out laughing, spat at him, and bowed her head over her meal.

Jia Lian, laughing, went to see Jia Zheng. It was indeed about the monks. He followed Xifeng's plan and said, "Qin'er has turned out quite well—this matter could be given to him. He can draw the monthly allowance according to the usual rules." Jia Zheng, who seldom bothered with such details, agreed. Jia Lian returned and told Xifeng, who sent word to Zhou. Jia Qin came to thank Jia Lian and his wife profusely. Xifeng, doing a favour, asked Jia Lian to advance three months' pay. Jia Qin signed a receipt; Jia Lian approved it and issued the tally. The treasury paid out three months' supply—two or three hundred silver taels. Jia Qin casually tossed a piece to the weigh-master for tea money. He then sent pages home to tell his mother, hired a large donkey for himself and several carts, and called out the twenty-four monks and Taoists from the side gate of the Rong Mansion, and rode off to the Iron Threshold Temple. No more of that for now.

After Yuanchun had compiled the poems on the Grand View Garden, she reflected: the garden's scenery would surely be locked up by Jia Zheng to keep people out—what a waste. Since there were several sisters in the household who could write poetry, why not let them live there, so the beauties would not be left desolate and the flowers and willows would not be shamed? And Baoyu, having grown up among the girls, would feel lonely if excluded—which would worry the Dowager and Lady Wang. So she sent the eunuch Xia Shouzhong with a decree to the Rong Mansion: Baochai and the others were to take up residence in the garden, which was not to be locked up; Baoyu was to go in with them to study.

Jia Zheng and Lady Wang, having received the decree and seen the eunuch off, reported to the Dowager and had people clean and prepare the various quarters, hanging curtains and setting up beds. The others took it calmly, but Baoyu was beside himself with joy. While he was planning with the Dowager what to take, a maid announced, "The master summons you." It was like a thunderbolt. Baoyu's face fell, and he clung to the Dowager, refusing to go. She comforted him, "My precious boy, go—I'll protect you. He won't hurt you. Besides, you wrote those fine poems. He probably just wants to give you a few instructions about the garden, so you don't get into mischief. Answer him politely." She called two old nannies and told them to take him and not let his father frighten him.

Baoyu had to go, shuffling along as if his feet were stuck in mud. Jia Zheng happened to be in Lady Wang's room, discussing business, with Jinchuan, Caiyun, Caixia, Xiuluan, Xiufeng, and other maids standing in the corridor. When they saw Baoyu, they smiled. Jinchuan grabbed him and whispered, "I've just put on fresh rouge—do you want a taste?" Caiyun pushed her away, "He's upset—don't tease him. Go in now." Baoyu entered. Jia Zheng and Lady Wang were in the inner room; Concubine Zhao lifted the curtain. Jia Zheng and Lady Wang sat facing each other on the kang, while Yingchun, Tanchun, Xichun, and Jia Huan sat on chairs below. When Baoyu entered, only Tanchun, Xichun, and Jia Huan rose.

Jia Zheng looked at Baoyu—handsome and radiant—then at Jia Huan, mean and awkward. He thought of Jia Zhu, dead, and of Lady Wang with only this one son, whom she treasured; his own beard was turning grey. For these reasons, his usual dislike for Baoyu diminished by eight or nine tenths. After a long pause he said, "Her Highness has decreed that since you waste your days idly, you are to be kept to your studies and read and write with your sisters in the garden. Apply yourself well. If you are unruly, beware!" Baoyu agreed repeatedly. Lady Wang drew him to sit beside her, and the other three sat down again.

She stroked his neck, "Have you finished those pills?" Baoyu said, "There's one left." "I'll get ten more tomorrow. Every night before bed, have Xiren give you one." Baoyu said, "Since you told me, Xiren remembers to give them to me every night." Jia Zheng asked, "Who is Xiren?" Lady Wang said, "A maid." Jia Zheng said, "A maid's name doesn't matter—who gave her such a peculiar name?" Lady Wang covered for Baoyu, "The Dowager gave it." Jia Zheng said, "The Dowager wouldn't know that—it must be Baoyu." Baoyu, seeing he could not hide it, rose and replied, "In reading poetry, I came across a line, 'The fragrance of flowers assails one's clothes, telling that the day is warm.' Since this maid's surname is Hua (Flower), I gave her that name." Lady Wang quickly added, "Baoyu, go and change it when you get back. Don't let this little thing upset you, Father." Jia Zheng said, "It doesn't matter—why change it? It just shows that Baoyu doesn't apply himself to serious study, but wastes his time on frivolous poetry." He shouted, "You wicked creature, get out!" Lady Wang said, "Go—the Dowager is waiting for you to eat." Baoyu agreed, withdrew slowly, stuck his tongue out at Jinchuan, and slipped away with the nannies.

At the passage gate, Xiren was leaning against the door. Seeing him return safely, she smiled, "What did he want?" Baoyu told her, "Nothing—just warned me not to get into mischief in the garden." He went back to the Dowager to report. Lin Daiyu was there. Baoyu asked, "Which place would you like to live in?" Daiyu had been thinking about this. "I like the Xiaoxiang Pavilion—with those bamboos and the winding balustrade, it's quieter than the other places." Baoyu clapped his hands, "That's just what I thought! I wanted you to take that. I'll take the Crimson Delight Court—we'll be close, and both are quiet and secluded."

While they talked, someone from Jia Zheng came to tell the Dowager that the twenty-second of the second month was an auspicious day for moving in. Within a few days, people were sent to prepare the quarters. Xue Baochai took Hengwu Garden, Lin Daiyu the Xiaoxiang Pavilion, Jia Yingchun the Embroidered Brocade Pavilion, Tanchun the Autumn Vigour Studio, Xichun the Reed-Wind Pavilion, Li Wan the Rice-Fragrance Village, and Baoyu the Crimson Delight Court. Each place had two old nannies and four maids added, besides their personal nurses and maids, with others assigned to cleaning. On the twenty-second, they all moved in. The garden, once lonely, now bloomed with embroidered sashes and fragrant breezes.

But enough of that. Baoyu, since entering the garden, was thoroughly content, with no further desires. He spent his days with the sisters and maids—reading, writing, playing chess, painting, composing poetry, embroidering, gathering flowers, humming tunes, solving riddles—in short, all sorts of amusements, and was quite happy. He wrote several poems on the seasons, not excellent, but true to life:

A Spring Night
Rosy clouds and misty canopies spread wide,
Through the lane, faint toad-calls can't be heard.
A chill on the pillow as rain taps outside,
Before my eyes spring scenes, in dreams a face.
The candle's teardrops—for whom do they weep?
The flower's sorrows—for me do they chide?
My little maids are spoiled and lazy now,
Huddled in quilts, they laugh and chatter loud.

A Summer Night
The weary embroideress dreams long and deep,
The parrot in its cage calls out for tea.
Bright moonlight through the window, mirrors gleam;
Incense smoke curls, the royal fragrance sweet.
Amber cups brim with lotus dew so cool,
Glass railings catch the willow-wind's soft breeze.
By waterside pavilions, fans all stir,
As crimson curtains roll—evening toilet's done.

An Autumn Night
In Crimson Cloud Studio, all noise is still,
Moonlight like water soaks the rosy gauze.
Moss-crusted stones where sleeping cranes may rest,
Wet dew on plane-leaves drips on roosting crows.
A maid brings quilts, unfolds the golden phoenix;
Returning, she lets down her emerald flowers.
Sleepless tonight for thirst—I stir the ash,
And call for fresh-brewed tea to pass the hours.

A Winter Night
Plum spirits and bamboo dreams at the third watch,
On brocade quilts I cannot find my rest.
Pine shadows fill the court—only cranes seen;
No orioles sing, though pear-blooms carpet the ground.
The maids in green sleeves feel their verses cold;
The young lord in furs finds the wine too light.
But glad my maid knows how to brew good tea—
She sweeps fresh snow and boils it, just in time.

These poems were copied out by certain sycophants who, seeing they were by a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy of the Rong Mansion, spread them about with praise. Some frivolous young men, struck by the amorous lines, wrote them on fans and walls, reciting them with admiration. People even came to beg for poems, calligraphy, and paintings. Baoyu grew increasingly vain and spent his days on these outside pursuits.

But in the midst of leisure, trouble arose. One day he grew restless—nothing pleased him, and he wandered about listlessly. The girls in the garden, still in their innocent, carefree state, were unaware of his mood. Baoyu, feeling out of sorts, stayed out of the garden and wandered outside, dazed. Mingyan, seeing him like this, wanted to amuse him, but all their usual games had grown stale. Only one thing Baoyu had never seen. Mingyan went to a bookshop and bought a collection of old and new tales, including the stories of Zhao Feiyan, the He sisters, Wu Zetian, and Yang Guifei, as well as play scripts, to entertain Baoyu. Baoyu had never seen such books and treasured them like jewels. Mingyan warned him not to bring them into the garden—"If anyone finds out, I'll be in deep trouble." Baoyu, unable to bear leaving them behind, selected a few with the finest style and hid them on top of his bed, reading them in secret. The coarser ones he kept in the outer study.

One day in mid-March, after breakfast, Baoyu took a copy of The Story of the Western Wing and sat on a stone under a peach tree by the Engulfing Fragrance Sluice Bridge. He opened it and read. Just as he reached the line "The fallen blossoms form a crimson carpet," a gust of wind blew down a shower of peach blossoms, covering him, his book, and the ground. He was about to shake them off, but feared trampling them, so he gathered them up and carried them to the pool, letting them float on the water. They drifted away through the sluice.

There were still many on the ground. As he hesitated, a voice behind him asked, "What are you doing?" Turning, he saw Lin Daiyu, carrying a flower-hammer with a flower-bag hanging from it and a flower-broom in her hand. Baoyu laughed, "Good! Come and sweep up these petals and put them in the water. I've already put some there." Daiyu said, "Putting them in the water isn't good. The water here is clean, but once it flows out to where people live, it gets mixed with dirt and filth, and the flowers are ruined again. I have a flower-grave in that corner. If we sweep them into this silk bag and bury them in the ground, in time they'll turn to soil—much cleaner."

Baoyu was delighted, "Let me put down my book and help you." Daiyu asked, "What book?" Baoyu, flustered, tried to hide it, saying, "Just the Doctrine of the Mean and the Great Learning." Daiyu laughed, "Don't try to fool me. Let me see it, and that's best." Baoyu said, "Dear cousin, I'm not afraid to show you—I know you won't tell. It's truly a wonderful book! Once you read it, you won't even want to eat." He handed it over. Daiyu put down her flower-tools, took the book, and read from the beginning. The more she read, the more she liked it. In less time than it takes to eat a meal, she had finished all sixteen scenes, feeling the words were striking and their fragrance lingered in her mouth. Though she had finished, she sat in a daze, silently reciting the lines.

Baoyu laughed, "Cousin, is it good?" Daiyu smiled, "It's really very amusing." Baoyu laughed, "I am the 'one sick with love and sorrow,' and you are the 'beauty who topples cities and kingdoms.'" Daiyu flushed to the tips of her ears, her brows knitted in anger, and she glared at him, pointing, "You wretch! You bring these licentious songs and poems, and then use such words to tease me! I'll tell Uncle and Aunt!" At the word "tease," her eyes reddened, and she turned to go. Baoyu, alarmed, stopped her, "Dear cousin, forgive me this once—I spoke wrongly. If I meant to tease you, may I fall into the pool tomorrow and be swallowed by a great turtle, to become a big tortoise and carry a tombstone on your grave forever—when you become a great lady and die in old age!" This made Daiyu laugh, rubbing her eyes, "So you're scared too—and still talking nonsense. 'Pooh! A flower that blooms but bears no fruit—a pewter spearhead that looks like silver!'" Baoyu laughed, "And what about you? I'll tell on you too." Daiyu laughed, "You say you can read a page at a glance—can't I read ten lines at a glance?"

Baoyu put away the book, "Let's bury the flowers and forget that." They gathered the petals and buried them. Just as they finished, Xiren came, "We've looked everywhere—here you are. The elder master is unwell, and all the young ladies have gone to pay their respects. The Dowager sent me to find you. Hurry back and change." Baoyu took his book and left with Xiren.

Daiyu, left alone, felt dull. She walked back, passing by the Pear Fragrance Court, when she heard the sound of a flute and sweet singing—the twelve actresses rehearsing. She paid no heed at first, but caught two lines clearly: "All purple and red bloom everywhere—yet all are given to broken wells and crumbling walls." She was moved and stopped to listen. Another line came: "How can this beautiful day, this lovely scene, be borne? Whose garden holds such joy and delight?" She sighed, thinking, "So there is fine writing in plays too. Pity that most people only watch them and miss the meaning." She regretted her distraction, and listened again: "For you, with beauty like a flower, and time passing like water..." Her heart stirred. Then: "You who pity yourself in your quiet chamber..." She was entranced, unable to stand, and sat on a rock, savouring the phrase "beauty like a flower, time like water." Then she recalled ancient lines: "Water flows and flowers fade—both heartless." And another: "Flowing water, fallen blossoms, spring has gone—above, the sky; below, the world." And the line from The Western Wing: "Flowers fall, water runs red—a thousand sorrows." All came together, and she felt her heart ache, her spirit dazed, tears falling. Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw... but we shall hear in the next chapter. As the verse says:

Her heart no longer dwells on morning dress and nightly tasks;
Before the moon and wind, her sorrows are all that last.