Chapter 38

Chapter 38

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**Chapter 38**

**Lin Xiaoxiang carries off the prize with her chrysanthemum poems;**

**Xue Baochai satirizes in her crab-flying song**

To resume. The previous chapter ended with Baochai and Xiangyun having settled their plans for the poetry club after a discussion. That night nothing further happened. Next day Xiangyun invited Grandmother Jia and the others to come and enjoy the osmanthus blossoms. "He's in the mood for it," said the old lady and the others. "We mustn't spoil his fun." And so it was that at noon, Grandmother Jia, Lady Wang, and Xifeng, together with Aunt Xue and others, went to the garden. "Where would it be best?" asked Grandmother Jia. Lady Wang replied, "Wherever Your Ladyship would like to sit." "The Lotus Fragrance Arbour is all ready," said Xifeng. "The two osmanthus trees on the slope are in full bloom, and the river water is so clear. If we sit in the pavilion in the middle of the river, won't it be nice and cool? And the water is so clear to look at." Grandmother Jia said, "That's a good idea." And so she led the others to the Lotus Fragrance Arbour. The pavilion stood in the middle of the pond, with windows on all four sides and winding covered galleries on the left and right leading to it. A winding bamboo bridge behind connected it with the shore. As they crossed the bamboo bridge, Xifeng hastened forward to support Grandmother Jia, saying, "Just step out boldly, Old Ancestress. There's nothing to be afraid of. That's the way bamboo bridges creak by nature."

When they entered the pavilion, they saw two bamboo tables set up outside the railing. On one were laid cups, chopsticks, and wine vessels; on the other were tea whisks, tea basins, and various tea utensils. On one side, two or three maids were fanning a brazier to brew tea; on the other side, several maids were also fanning a brazier to heat wine. Grandmother Jia was delighted. "This is a wonderful idea for tea, and the place is so nice and clean." Xiangyun said with a smile, "Sister Baochai helped me prepare all this." Grandmother Jia said, "I always said this child is thoughtful. She thinks of everything properly." As she spoke, she noticed a couplet painted in black lacquer and inlaid with mother-of-pearl hanging on one of the pillars, and told someone to read it aloud. Xiangyun read:

*The lotus shadows break as the orchid oars return;*

*The scent of water-chestnuts and lotus roots runs deep by the bamboo bridge.*

Grandmother Jia looked up at the plaque above. Turning to Aunt Xue, she said, "When I was a girl, we had a pavilion just like this at home. It was called the Cloud-Touching Pavilion. I was about their age then, and I used to play there every day with my sisters. One day I slipped and fell in. I was nearly drowned. When they finally pulled me out, I had cracked my head on a wooden peg. This dent on my temple, as big as a fingertip, is the scar from that wound." Everyone was afraid that the soaking and the exposure would prove fatal. They thought I would never survive, but I recovered after all." Before anyone else could speak, Xifeng laughed and said, "If you hadn't survived then, who would be enjoying all this great good fortune now? Clearly, Old Ancestress, you were destined to be blessed with fortune and long life from childhood. It was the spirits and ghosts that knocked that dent in your head to hold all your blessings and longevity. The God of Longevity has a bump on his head because it's so packed with blessings and long life that it bulges out." Before she had finished, Grandmother Jia and the others had dissolved in laughter. "This monkey is utterly shameless," said the old lady. "She just makes fun of me. I could tear that oily mouth of hers apart." Xifeng laughed. "She's going to eat crab later, and we're afraid the cold will settle in her stomach. So I'm making you laugh, Old Ancestress, to cheer you up. If you're in a good mood, you can eat two more crabs without any harm." Grandmother Jia laughed. "Tomorrow I'll have you stay with me day and night. If I can laugh often and feel happy, that would be fine. You're not to go home." Lady Wang said with a smile, "It's only because you dote on her that she's grown up so spoiled. And to say such things! Tomorrow she'll be even more rude." Grandmother Jia laughed. "I like her the way she is. Besides, she's not a child who doesn't know her place. When we're at home with just the family, mother and daughter should be like this. As long as the basic proprieties are observed, what does it matter? There's no need to make her behave like some little goddess."

With that, they all entered the pavilion together. After tea had been presented, Xifeng bustled about setting tables and fetching cups and chopsticks. At the upper table sat Grandmother Jia, Aunt Xue, Baochai, Daiyu, and Baoyu. At the east table sat Shi Xiangyun, Lady Wang, Yingchun, Tanchun, and Xichun. At the west table near the table were placed seats for Li Wan and Xifeng, but these were only nominal—neither dared sit, instead attending upon the tables of Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang. Xifeng gave orders: "Don't bring too many crabs at once. Keep them in the steamer and bring ten; we can fetch more after we've eaten these." She then asked for water to wash her hands and stood before Grandmother Jia to shell crabmeat, first offering some to Aunt Xue. Aunt Xue said, "I find it more satisfying to crack them myself. I don't need anyone to serve me." So Xifeng presented it to Grandmother Jia. The next portion she gave to Baoyu, adding, "Bring the wine, piping hot." She also ordered the young maids to fetch the mung-bean powder scented with chrysanthemum leaves and osmanthus stamens, to be ready for washing hands afterward.

Shi Xiangyun ate one crab sitting with them, then rose to let others take her place. She went out and had two plates prepared to send to Concubine Zhao and Concubine Zhou. When she saw Xifeng approaching, she said, "You're not used to managing things—go on and eat yours. I'll make the arrangements for you first, and eat after it's over." Xiangyun would not hear of it, and had two tables set up on the veranda there, inviting Yuanyang, Hupo, Caixia, Caiyun, and Pinger to sit. Yuanyang said to Xifeng with a smile, "Second Mistress is waiting on them here, so we can go off and enjoy ourselves." Xifeng said, "Go along, all of you. Leave everything to me." With that, Shi Xiangyun returned to her seat. Xifeng and Li Wan ate a few bites perfunctorily. Xifeng then came out to the veranda to make arrangements. Yuanyang and the others were eating happily when they saw her coming. Yuanyang and the rest stood up and said, "What is the Madam doing out here again? Let us have a moment's enjoyment." Xifeng laughed, "You little minx Yuanyang, you've gotten worse—I'm doing your work for you, and instead of gratitude, you complain about me. Quick now, pour me a cup of wine." Yuanyang laughed and hastily poured a cup, bringing it to Xifeng's lips. Xifeng tossed it down in one gulp. Hupo and Caixia also each poured a cup and brought it to her lips, and Xifeng drank those too. Pinger had already extracted a portion of crab roe and brought it over. Xifeng said, "Add more ginger and vinegar," and ate it, then laughed, "You all sit and eat. I'm going back." Yuanyang said, "Shameless creature, eating our food!" Xifeng laughed, "Don't you provoke me. Do you know that your Second Master Lian has taken a fancy to you and wants to ask the Old Lady to give you to him as a concubine?" Yuanyang spat, "Bah! For a Madam to say such a thing! I'll smear your face with these fishy hands—that'll teach you!" She darted forward to do it. Xifeng pleaded, "Good sister, spare me this once!" Hupo laughed, "If Sister Yuanyang is going, should Pinger be spared too? Look at her—she hasn't eaten two crabs but she's downed a whole dish of vinegar. She certainly knows how to lay claim to sourness!" Pinger, who was just then cracking a crab full of roe, hearing herself ridiculed this way, grabbed the crab and smeared it across Hupo's face, cursing with a laugh, "You little minx with the wagging tongue!" Hupo laughed and dodged to the side. Pinger missed, stumbled forward, and smeared it right across Xifeng's cheek. Xifeng, who had been laughing and teasing Yuanyang, was so startled she gave a cry of surprise. The others could not contain themselves and burst into uproarious laughter. Xifeng too could not help laughing as she cursed, "Dead strumpet! You've eaten yourself blind—smearing your own mistress!" Pinger hurried over to wipe her face and went herself to fetch water. Yuanyang said, "Buddha preserve us! That's retribution."

Grandmother Jia, hearing the commotion from her table, called out repeatedly, "What did you see that's so funny? Tell us so we can laugh too." Yuanyang and the others called back loudly amid laughter, "The Second Mistress came to snatch our crabs, and Pinger got angry and smeared crab roe all over her mistress's face. Mistress and servants fighting!" Grandmother Jia and Lady Wang laughed when they heard this. Grandmother Jia said, "Look how pitiful she is. Give her a few little legs and roe to eat and be done with it." Yuanyang and the others laughingly agreed and called out loudly, "There are plenty of legs on this whole table—the Second Mistress is welcome to eat them all!" Xifeng washed her face and came back, and served Grandmother Jia and the others for another round. Daiyu alone dared not eat much; she ate only a little of the claw meat and then withdrew.

After the Dowager had finished eating for the time being, the company dispersed. Everyone washed their hands; some went to view the flowers, others played in the water and watched the fish. After amusing themselves for a while, Lady Wang turned to the Dowager and said, "It's windy here, and we've just been eating crab. Perhaps the old lady should go back to her room to rest. If you're enjoying yourself, you can come again tomorrow." The Dowager, smiling, said, "Indeed. I was afraid that if I left, I might spoil your fun. Since you put it that way, let us all go." She turned back and instructed Xiangyun: "Don't let your Cousin Bao and Cousin Lin overeat." Xiangyun assented. She also instructed Xiangyun and Baochai: "You two shouldn't eat too much either. That thing may taste good, but it isn't good for you—too much of it gives you a stomachache." The two of them hastily assented and escorted her out of the garden. Then they returned and ordered the remnants of the feast cleared away and a new table laid.

Baoyu said, "No need to set a table. Let us compose our poems. Put the large round table in the middle and set the wine and dishes on it. There's no need to have fixed seats—let each person sit where he likes and eat what he likes. Wouldn't that be more convenient?" Baochai said, "That's very sensible." Xiangyun said, "Still, there are others to consider." She then ordered another table to be laid and selected hot crabs to invite Xiren, Zijuan, Siqi, Shishu, Ruhua, Ying'er, Cui Mo, and the others to sit together. Two flowered rugs were spread beneath the osmanthus trees on the hillside, and the attending old serving women and young maids were also told to sit, to eat and drink as they pleased, and to come when called.

Xiangyun then took the poem topics and pinned them to the wall with a needle. When the others looked at them, they all said, "Novel enough, but I'm afraid we won't be able to compose anything." Xiangyun then explained again the reason why there was no restriction on rhymes. Baoyu said, "That's only fair. I too dislike having rhymes prescribed." Daiyu, having drunk little wine and eaten no crab, had a embroidery stool brought for her. She sat by the railing holding a fishing rod. Baochai played for a while with a sprig of osmanthus, then leaned on the window sill and tossed osmanthus stamens onto the water surface, drawing fish up to nibble. Xiangyun drifted off in thought for a while, then made way again for Xiren and the others, and called to the people on the hillside to eat their fill. Tanchun, Li Wan, and Xichun stood in the shade of the weeping willows watching the gulls and herons. Yingchun, alone beneath the flowers, was threading jasmine blossoms with a flower needle. Baoyu watched Daiyu fishing for a while, then leaned over and exchanged a few words with Baochai, then watched Xiren and the others eating crab. He himself drank two mouthfuls of wine with them. Xiren shelled another piece of crab meat for him.

Daiyu put down her fishing rod, walked to her seat, and picked up the black silver plum-blossom self-pouring pot. She chose a small begonia-shaped cup of frozen stone in the shape of a banana leaf. The maids, seeing that she wanted to drink, hurried forward to pour for her. Daiyu said, "You just go on eating. Let me pour for myself—that's the fun of it." She poured half a cup, looked at it, and found it was yellow wine. "I've had a little crab," she said, "and my chest feels slightly sore. I need to drink something hot." Baoyu said quickly, "We have heated wine." He ordered the wine steeped with silk-tree flowers to be warmed and brought. Daiyu took only one sip and set it down.

Baochai also came over, took another cup, drank one sip, and then dipped her pen and crossed off the first poem on the wall, "Remembering the Chrysanthemums," writing below it the character "Heng." Baoyu said hastily, "Good sister, I already have four lines for the second one. Let me do it." Baochai said with a smile, "I've barely managed one poem, and you're already in such a rush." Daiyu said nothing. She took the pen and crossed off the eighth, "Questioning the Chrysanthemums," then also crossed off the eleventh, "The Chrysanthemum Dream," writing the character "Xiao" below. Baoyu also picked up the pen and crossed off the second, "Visiting the Chrysanthemums," writing the character "Jiang" below. Tanchun came over and looked. "No one is doing 'The Chrysanthemum in the Hair,'" she said. "Let me do that one." She pointed at Baoyu and laughed. "We've just declared that words referring to the women's quarters are not to be used. You'd better be careful."

Just then Xiangyun came over and crossed off the fourth and fifth, "Facing the Chrysanthemums" and "Offering the Chrysanthemums," both at once, writing the character "Xiang" below. Tanchun said, "You should also take a literary name." Xiangyun said with a smile, "Although my family has several studios and pavilions, I don't live in any of them. It would be pointless to borrow one." Baochai said with a smile, "Just now the Old Lady said that your family also has a waterside pavilion called 'Pillow on Rosy Clouds Pavilion'—isn't that yours? Although it's gone now, you are still the old mistress of it." Everyone said this was reasonable. Before Xiangyun could move, Baoyu erased the character "Xiang" on her behalf and changed it to "Xia." After about the time it takes to eat a meal, all twelve topics had been chosen. Each person copied out her or his poem and handed it to Yingchun, who took a sheet of snow-wave paper and transcribed them all, writing each person's literary name below the poem they had composed. Li Wan and the others read them from the beginning:

**Remembering the Chrysanthemums**

*Lady Hengwu*

I gaze toward the west wind, nursing a brook-tide of melancholy thought;

When smartweed turns red and reeds go white, my heart breaks with the season.

By the empty fence, the old garden leaves no trace of autumn;

Only the waning moon and chill frost know of my dream.

My heart follows the homing wild geese, farther and farther away;

I sit in desolation, listening distractedly to the evening washing-block's sound.

Who pities me, sick for the yellow flowers?

There is comfort in the thought that the Double Ninth will come again.

**Visiting the Chrysanthemums**

*The Happy Red Prince*

At leisure, taking advantage of the clear frosty weather, I try a little ramble;

Let not the wine cup and medicine bowl detain me.

Before the frost, beneath the moon—in whose garden are they planted?

Beyond the railing, by the fence—where lies the sorrow?

Coming from afar in my straw sandals, my feelings overflow;

Coldly chanting without end, my mood drifts on and on.

If the yellow flowers could pity a poet,

They must not let me down, with my staff hung up today.

**Planting the Chrysanthemums**

*The Happy Red Prince*

I brought them myself from the autumn garden on my hoe,

And planted them again and again by the fence and before the courtyard.

Last night unforeseen rains gave it life; today I still rejoice that it opens bearing the frost.

I chant a thousand verses on autumn hues while cold, I pour a cup of wine to its chill fragrance.

With spring water I tend it, with mud I mound it, diligently guarding and cherishing it, well knowing that by the well path all dust and grime are kept at bay.

**Facing the Chrysanthemums**

By the Old Friend of the Pillow Mist

Transplanted from another garden, prized as gold; one cluster pale, one cluster deep.

By the sparse fence I sit bareheaded; in the cool, pure fragrance I embrace my knees and chant.

Counting them, none is more proud of the world than you; looking at them, only I can be your true friend.

The autumn light slips by—do not waste it; face to face we ought to treasure every inch of time.

**Presenting the Chrysanthemums**

By the Old Friend of the Pillow Mist

Playing the qin and pouring wine, happy to have such a companion; by desk and table it stands gracefully, adorning the quiet.

Fragrance shared across the seat from the three-path dew; I throw down my book and face a single branch of autumn.

In the clear frost, paper curtains bring new dreams; in the cold garden, the slanting sun recalls old wanderings.

Proud of the world, too, because we share the same nature; the spring breeze and peach and plums could not hold us back.

**Singing of the Chrysanthemums**

By the Princess of the Riverside Pavilion

Troublesome poetic demons besiege me from dusk to dawn; round the fence, against the stone, I sink into my own voice.

The brush-tip holds hidden grace as I write facing the frost; my lips and teeth retain fragrance as I chant facing the moon.

The whole page, self-pitying, records a plain grievance; in scattered words, who can interpret and tell my autumn heart?

Ever since Tao Yuanming judged them, their lofty spirit has been spoken of down to the present day.

**Painting the Chrysanthemums**

By the Lady of the Althaea

After writing verse, I playfully wield my brush without knowing recklessness—how could this require the careful deliberation of a painter?

Gathering leaves, I splash out a thousand dots of ink; clustering flowers, I dye in several traces of frost.

In faint and dark, the spirit meets before the wind as a shadow; vivid and alive, autumn is born as fragrance beneath the wrist.

Do not think this is an idle plucking by the eastern fence; I paste it on a screen merely to console myself on the Double Ninth.

**Questioning the Chrysanthemums**

By the Princess of the Riverside Pavilion

I would question autumn's mood, but no knows it; murmuring to myself, I walk with hands clasped behind my back and knock at the eastern fence.

A lone standard, proud of the world—with whom do you hide? Blooming the same as others—why are you so late?

Garden dew, courtyard frost—how lonely! The wild geese return, the crickets sicken—can they be longing for you?

Say not that in the whole world there are no one to talk with; if you can understand speech, why not speak for a moment?

**Wearing the Chrysanthemums**

By the Guest Beneath the Plantain

Daily busy with vase and fence planting—when you pluck them, do not mistake them for a mirror's adornment.

The young lord of Chang'an has a passion for flowers; Mr. Pengze was mad for wine.

Short hair cold with the three-path dew; coarse headscarf fragrant with the ninth-month frost.

My lofty sentiments do not enter the eyes of fashionable folk; let them clap their hands and laugh by the roadside as they please.

**The Chrysanthemum's Shadow**

By the Old Friend of the Pillow Mist

Autumn light, layer upon layer, again and again, secretly passing, stealthily shifting along the three paths.

Through the window, a dim lamp sketches far and near; through the fence, a broken moon locks in its delicate form.

The cold fragrance keeps its reflection—the soul should stay; the frost print transmits the spirit—the dream is empty.

Treasure the hidden fragrance, do not tread it to pieces; on whom can I rely to recognize the blur with drunken eyes?

**The Chrysanthemum's Dream**

By the Princess of the Riverside Pavilion

By the fence, autumn is drunk, a single sleep, clear; with clouds and moon, indistinct.

Ascending to immortality, I do not yearn for Zhuangzi's butterfly; recalling the old, I still seek Tao Yuanming's covenant.

Sleeping, I follow the wild geese as they are cut off; startled awake, I am vexed by the crickets' chirping.

Awake, to whom can I tell my hidden grievance? Withered grass, cold mist—boundless feeling.

**The Withered Chrysanthemums**

By the Guest Beneath the Plantain

Dew congeals, frost grows heavy, gradually they lean awry; the feast was just past, at the time of Lesser Snow.

The calyx retains a trace of fragrance, the gold fading; the branch has no whole leaves, the green falling in disarray.

Half a bed of setting moon, the crickets' song sick; ten thousand miles of cold cloud, the wild geese's formation slow.

Next year when the autumn wind blows, we shall meet again; for now, parted for a while—do not long for me.

The ladies read each poem, praised each poem, lauding one another without end. Li Wan smiled and said, "Let me judge impartially. Having read them all, each has its own striking lines. Today's verdict: 'Singing of the Chrysanthemums' is first, 'Questioning the Chrysanthemums' is second, 'The Chrysanthemum's Dream' is third. The subjects are new, the poems are new, the conceptions are fresher still—no wonder we must name the Princess of the Riverside Pavilion champion. Then 'Wearing the Chrysanthemums,' 'Facing the Chrysanthemums,' 'Presenting the Chrysanthemums,' 'Painting the Chrysanthemums,' and 'Remembering the Chrysanthemums' follow." When Baoyu heard this, he clapped his hands in delight and cried, "Absolutely right, absolutely fair!" Daiyu said, "My poem isn't that good either—in the end it's a bit too dainty." Li Wan said, "Cleverness is precisely what's good—it doesn't show forced effort or stiffness." Daiyu said, "In my opinion, the best opening line is 'In the cold garden, the slanting sun recalls old wanderings'—this is whitewashing from the back. 'I throw down my book and face a single branch of autumn' is already utterly exquisite; after finishing about presenting the chrysanthemums, there was nowhere else to go, so it turns back to think of the time before they were unpacked and presented—the meaning is deeply penetrating." Li Wan smiled and said, "It is indeed as you say; your line 'my lips and teeth retain fragrance' can match anything." Tanchun then said, "After all, the Lady of the Althaea is the most composed: 'autumn leaves no trace,' 'the dream has awareness'—she actually brings out the character of 'remembering' by contrast." Baochai smiled and said: "Your 'short hair cold with' and 'coarse headscarf fragrant with' have described the wearing of chrysanthemums so thoroughly there isn't a seam left." Xiangyun said, "'With whom do you hide?' and 'Why are you so late?'—you truly made the chrysanthemums speechless." Li Wan laughed and said, "Your 'sit bareheaded' and 'embrace my knees and chant'—for a moment nothing could surpass them either. If the chrysanthemums had consciousness, they'd be bored to death." Everyone laughed at this. Baoyu said with a smile, "I'm ranked last again. Are 'whose household plants it,' 'where is autumn,' 'came from afar in wooden clogs,' 'cold chanting without end' not about visiting? Is 'last night's rain' and 'this morning's frost' not about planting? But I regret I cannot match 'my lips and teeth retain fragrance as I chant facing the moon,' 'in the cool, pure fragrance I embrace my knees and chant,' 'short hair,' 'coarse headscarf,' 'the gold fading,' 'the green falling in disarray,' 'autumn leaves no trace,' 'the dream has awareness'—these lines." He then added, "Tomorrow when I have time, I'll write all twelve myself." Li Wan said, "Yours are good too, just not as freshly clever as these."

They discussed the poems once more, then had heated crabs brought in and ate around the large round table. Baoyu said with a smile, "Today, holding crab claws and admiring the osmanthus—we mustn't do without poetry either. I've already composed one—who dares write another?" So saying, he quickly washed his hands, picked up the brush, and wrote it out. The ladies read it:

All the more I love the osmanthus shade's coolness; I pound the ginger, splash the vinegar—my spirits soar with abandon.

Gluttonous young lords should have wine; the横行公子 has no intestines.

Cold accumulated in the navel—the craving forgets caution; fishy scent on the fingers—even washed, the fragrance lingers.

Originally it was meant to please the world's palates; the Immortal of the Slope once laughed at a lifetime's busyness.

Daiyu laughed: "Poems like that—I could write a hundred of them." Baoyu laughed: "You've exhausted your talent for now. Not only can you not write, you're disparaging others." Daiyu said nothing in reply. Without pausing to think, she took up her brush and dashed off a poem in a single flourish. The company read it:

Forgotten not, the iron-clad spears, the long-forgotten dead—

Yet joy comes first to the piled plate, the hues and forms admired.

The claws seal tender jade, plump pair by pair;

The shell bulges with red grease, fragrant block by block.

Flesh abundant—I pity your eight feet all the more;

Who urges me, to stir my passion, with a thousand cups?

To this fine dish I match a fine festival season—

Osmanthus brushes the clear breeze; chrysanthemums carry the frost.

Baoyu had just finished reading it and was applauding when Daiyu tore it up and ordered it burned, laughing: "Mine isn't as good as yours, so I'll burn it. Yours is excellent—better than the chrysanthemum poems from earlier. Keep it and let others read it." Baochai then laughed: "I've managed one too. It may not be good, but I'll write it out for a little amusement." She wrote it out. The company read it:

Beneath osmanthus mist and tung-tree shade, we sit raising our cups;

The idle mouths of Chang'an long for Double Ninth.

The road before their eyes knows no warp or weft—

Their insides hold spring and autumn, yet black and yellow are all in vain.

By this point the company could not help crying out in admiration. Baoyu said: "Splendidly written! My poem should be burned." He read on:

Wine alone cannot counter their fishiness—chrysanthemums are still needed;

To guard against accumulated cold, ginger must be added.

What good are they now, fallen into the pot?

By the moonlit bank, only the scent of grain lingers in vain.

When they had finished reading, all agreed this was the ultimate song of crab-eating. These minor subjects, if they were to carry grand meaning, would reveal true genius—but the satire of the world was a bit too venomous. Just then they saw Ping'er enter the garden again. What she came to do, you will hear in the next chapter.

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