Chapter 89

Chapter 89

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Chapter 89: The Prince Composes a Lyric Lament for the Dead; A Phantom in the Cup—Pining Fasting unto Death

Now, Xifeng had just risen and was brooding in low spirits when she suddenly heard the young maid's words, which gave her another start. She quickly asked, "What official business?" The maid replied, "I'm not sure. Just now a pageboy at the second gate came in to report that the Master has urgent official business, so the Madam asked me to summon the Second Master." When Xifeng heard it was business from the Board of Works, she felt somewhat relieved and said, "Go back and tell the Madam that the Second Master went out of the city last night on business and hasn't returned. Send someone to inform Master Zhen first." The maid assented and left.

Presently Jia Zhen came to meet the men from the Board, inquired into the matter, and then went in to see Lady Wang. He reported, "The Board has sent word that the Governor-General of the Yellow River reported yesterday that dikes have burst along the river in Henan, flooding several prefectures and counties. Funds from the state treasury must be allocated to repair the city walls and embankments. The Board of Works officials need to provide additional oversight, which is why the Board specially sent word to inform the Master." Having finished, he withdrew, and when Jia Zheng returned home, he was likewise informed. From then on through the winter, Jia Zheng was occupied with business every day and was constantly at his yamen. Baoyu's studies also gradually slackened, but he dared not let Jia Zheng find out, so he still had to go regularly to the schoolroom to study and did not dare visit Daiyu as often as before.

By then it was mid-tenth month, and Baoyu rose to go to the schoolroom. The weather had turned abruptly cold that day. Xiren had already laid out a bundle of clothes and said to Baoyu, "It's very cold today; better to err on the side of warmth." As she spoke, she took out the clothes and helped Baoyu pick one to wear. She wrapped another one and had a young maid take it out and hand it to Beiming, instructing her, "It's chilly. When the Second Master needs to change, have it ready." Beiming assented and, carrying the felt bundle, followed Baoyu out. Baoyu arrived at the schoolroom and attended to his lessons when suddenly he heard the paper windows rattling in a gust of wind. Daoru remarked, "It's getting colder again." He pushed open the draft door and saw layers of black clouds in the northwest gradually rolling southeastward. Beiming came in and reported to Baoyu, "Second Master, it's cold. Better put on more clothes." Baoyu nodded. Beiming brought in a garment, and the moment Baoyu looked at it, his spirit seemed to leave him. All the young students stared, but it was indeed the golden peacock robe that Xiuwen had mended. Baoyu said, "Why bring this one? Who gave it to you?" Beiming replied, "The young ladies inside packed it." Baoyu said, "I'm not very cold. I won't wear it for now—wrap it up again." Daoru assumed Baoyu was reluctant to wear the garment out of thriftiness and was secretly pleased that he knew how to economize. Beiming urged, "Put it on, Second Master. If you catch cold, it will be my fault. Do it for my sake." Baoyu had no choice but to put it on. He sat staring blankly at his book. Daoru thought he was reading and paid him little attention. When school let out in the evening, Baoyu asked Daoru for a day's leave on grounds of illness. Daoru was elderly and only kept company with a few boys to pass the time. He was often afflicted with various ailments himself and was glad to have one less pupil to worry for a day. Moreover, he knew well that Jia Zheng was busy with official matters and that the Dowager doted on Baoyu, so he nodded his assent.

Baoyu went straight back, paid his respects to the Dowager and Lady Wang, and gave them the same excuse. Naturally, they believed him. After sitting a moment, he returned to the Garden. When he saw Xiren and the others, he was not as talkative and cheerful as usual. He lay down on the kang with his clothes on. Xiren asked, "Dinner is ready. Shall we eat now or wait a bit?" Baoyu said, "I won't eat. I feel unwell. You go ahead." Xiren said, "Then you should at least change out of that garment. That thing can't stand much handling." Baoyu said, "No need to change." Xiren said, "It's not just that the fabric is delicate—look at the needlework on it. You shouldn't let it be treated so carelessly." These words struck Baoyu squarely in the heart. He sighed and said, "In that case, pack it up carefully for me. I won't wear it anymore." As he spoke, he stood up and took it off. When Xiren reached out to take it, Baoyu had already folded it himself. Xiren said, "What makes the Second Master so diligent today?" Baoyu made no reply. After folding it, he asked, "Where's the wrapping cloth for this?" Sheyue hastily handed it over and let him wrap it himself, then exchanged a knowing glance and smile with Xiren. Baoyu took no notice. He sat listlessly. Suddenly the clock on the rack struck, and he lowered his head to look at his watch—the hand pointed to the second mark of the酉 hour. Presently a young maid came in with a lamp. Xiren said, "If you won't eat, at least have a bowl of congee. Don't go hungry—you'll work yourself into a deficiency fire, and then we'll have more trouble to deal with." Baoyu shook his head and said, "I'm not very hungry. Forcing myself to eat would only make me feel worse." Xiren said, "In that case, you might as well rest early." So Xiren and Sheyue made up the bed, and Baoyu lay down. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Just as dawn approached, he dozed off fitfully, but within the time it takes to eat a meal, he was awake again.

By this time Xiren and Sheyue had both gotten up. "Last night I heard you tossing and turning until well past the fifth watch," said Xiren. "I didn't dare ask about it. Then I fell asleep myself—I don't know whether you managed to sleep at all in the end."

"I did sleep a bit," said Baoyu. "I don't know how, but then I just woke up."

"Are you feeling unwell in any way?" asked Xiren.

"No," said Baoyu, "it's just that my heart feels restless."

"Are you going to the schoolroom today?"

"I took a day off yesterday. Today I want to spend the whole day wandering in the Garden to clear my head. I'm only afraid of the cold. Have them get a room ready, set out an incense burner, and lay out paper, ink, brush, and inkstone. You all just go about your business—I need to sit quietly by myself for a while before I feel right. Don't let anyone come and disturb me."

"Shengyue, if the Second Young Master wants to work in quiet, who would dare disturb him?" said Sheyue.

"That's very good," said Xiren. "It'll keep you from catching cold too. Sitting quietly by yourself—your spirit won't wander that way either." Then she asked, "Since you don't feel like eating much, what would you like today? Tell me early so I can send word to the kitchen."

"Oh, anything will do," said Baoyu. "No need to make a big fuss about it. But bring a few fruits and put them in that room—to lend a bit of their fragrance."

"Which room would be best?" said Xiren. "The others aren't very clean. Only the one where Qingwen used to live—since no one's been in it all this time, it's still clean. It's just rather cold."

"That doesn't matter," said Baoyu. "Just move the brazier over there."

Xiren agreed with a nod. As they were speaking, a little maid came in carrying a tea tray with a bowl and a pair of ivory chopsticks, which she handed to Sheyue. "This is what Miss Hua asked for just now—the old woman from the kitchen sent it over." Sheyue took a look and saw it was a bowl of bird's nest soup. She turned to Xiren. "Did you order this, sister?"

Xiren smiled. "The Second Young Master didn't eat dinner last night, and he was tossing and turning all night too. I figured when he got up this morning his stomach would be empty and unsettled, so I told the little maids to have the kitchen make this." While she spoke, Xiren had a little maid set up the table, and Sheyue helped Baoyu drink the soup and rinse his mouth.

Just then Qiulwen came in and said, "That room has all been tidied up. Just wait a bit until the coals have burned down properly, and then the Second Young Master can go in."

Baoyu nodded, but his mind was full of things he couldn't put into words, and he felt too listless to speak. After a while, a little maid came to invite him, saying that the brush and inkstone had been set out properly.

"I know," said Baoyu.

Another little maid came to report, "Breakfast is ready. Where will the Second Young Master eat?"

"Just bring it here," said Baoyu. "No need to go to any trouble."

The little maid assented and went off. In a moment the food was brought in. Baoyu gave a faint smile and said to Xiren and Sheyue, "I feel so heavy-hearted that if I eat by myself I probably won't be able to get anything down. Why don't you two eat with me? Perhaps if we eat together it'll taste better, and I'll manage to manage more."

Sheyue laughed. "That's the Second Young Master's whim—we wouldn't dare."

"It would really be all right," said Xiren. "We've sat together drinking wine more than once, and not just today. It's fine to do it now and then to help you pass the time, but if we made a habit of it, what would become of proper order and decorum?"

With that, the three of them sat down. Baoyu took the seat of honor at the head, while Xiren and Sheyue sat alongside. After the meal, a little maid brought tea for rinsing the mouths, and the two women watched as things were cleared away. Baoyu held his tea, lost in thought, and sat for a moment longer before asking, "Has that room been properly tidied?"

"We already reported that earlier," said Sheyue. "And now you're asking again."

After sitting a little while longer, Baoyu went over to that room. He himself lit a stick of incense, arranged some fruits, then told the servants to leave and closed the door. Outside, Xiren and the others kept perfectly still and quiet. Baoyu took out a sheet of pink paper with gold-flecked borders, murmured a few words of prayer, and then picked up the brush and wrote:

The Master of Happy Red, burned and presented to Sister Qing. With fragrant tea offered, may she deign to partake. The verse reads:

Ever at my side, alone I cherish tender thoughts—

Who could have foreseen sudden storms arising from flat ground?

In an instant my very life was cut short—

With whom now shall I speak of gentle things?

The eastern waters flow, never to return westward.

I imagine there are no more dream-herbs to bring you back to me,

Yet when I add a layer of clothing, I still see your emerald-cloud jacket.

Silently, silently, this fills me with grief!

When he had finished writing, he held the paper over the incense flame and burned it. He waited quietly, watching until the entire stick of incense had burned down, before he opened the door and came out.

"Why have you come out so soon?" said Xiren. "I suppose you felt stifled again."

Baoyu smiled and said on a pretext, "I was feeling rather restless in my mind, so I went to sit quietly somewhere. I'm better now. I think I'll take a stroll outside." With this, he went straight out and arrived at the Bamboo Lodge. In the courtyard he called out, "Is Sister Lin at home?" Zijuan answered, "Who is it?" She drew back the curtain and, seeing who it was, smiled. "So it's Master Bao. The young lady is in her room. Please come in and sit down." Baoyu went in with Zijuan. Daiyu was in the inner room. "Zijuan, ask the Second Master to sit down," she said. Baoyu reached the doorway of the inner room and saw a newly written couplet on purple ink-colored clay-gold cloud-dragon paper, which read:

*The green window, the bright moon still shines;*

*The green annals, the ancients are but void.*

Baoyu glanced at it with a smile, then went in. "What are you doing, Sister?" he asked cheerfully. Daiyu stood up and advanced a couple of steps, smiling as she invited him to sit. "Please take a seat. I've been copying a sutra here. Only two lines left to go. Let me finish before we talk." She told Xueyan to pour some tea. "Don't move, just keep writing," said Baoyu. As he spoke, he noticed a single scroll hanging on the wall. It depicted a Chang'e with an attendant, and another female immortal also with an attendant, holding what looked like a long clothing bag. Around the two figures there was a slight wisp of cloud, but no other embellishment. The whole thing was done entirely in the baimiao outline style of Li Longmian. At the top were three characters, "Dou Han Tu" (Contending with the Cold), written in bafen script. "Is this 'Contending with the Cold' a new hanging, Sister?" asked Baoyu. "Indeed it is. Yesterday when they were tidying the room, I thought of it and had them put it up." "What's its source?" Daiyu laughed. "It's something quite familiar right before your eyes, and you still have to ask?" Baoyu smiled. "It slipped my mind for the moment. Tell me, Sister." "Haven't you heard—'The Green Maiden and the White Jade both endure the cold; in the moon, amid the frost, they contend in beauty'?" "Ah, yes. This is truly novel and elegant. How fitting to hang it now." As he spoke, he looked this way and that, pacing about.

Xueyan brought tea, and Baoyu drank it. After waiting a little longer, Daiyu finished her sutra and stood up. "I've been remiss." Baoyu smiled. "Sister, you're still so polite." He observed that Daiyu was wearing a moon-white embroidered fur-lined short jacket, over which she had put on a silver rat-silk vest. Her hair was done up in the usual cloud chignon, with a single flat gold hairpin and no flowers. Below her waist she wore an embroidered silk skirt of Yangfei pink. Truly she was like:

*A graceful jade tree standing in the breeze,*

*A lotus flower slowly opening, laden with dew.*

"Have you been playing the qin these past two days, Sister?" Baoyu asked. "I haven't played for two days. Writing already makes my hands cold—how could I go and play the qin on top of that?" "Then don't play. I think although the qin is a lofty instrument, it's not a good thing. No one has ever played fortune, prosperity, and longevity from a qin—only grief, longing, resentment, and turmoil. Besides, playing the qin requires keeping the score in mind, which is rather taxing. In my opinion, Sister, your constitution is delicate—you needn't trouble yourself with this." Daiyu pursed her lips and smiled. Baoyu pointed to the wall. "Is this the qin? Why is it so short?" Daiyu laughed. "This qin isn't short. When I was young and learning to play, I couldn't reach the other qins, so this one was specially made. Though it's not the scorched-tail paulownia of legend, the crane's back and phoenix tail are well matched, and the dragon pool and wild goose feet are properly proportioned. Look at these crackled patterns—aren't they like ox hair? That's why the tone is still clear and resonant." "Have you been writing poetry these past few days, Sister?" "Not much since the poetry club was formed." Baoyu smiled. "Don't try to hide it from me. I heard you chanting something—'Cannot be cut off, the pure heart is like the moon in the sky.' You put it into the qin and the sound came out extraordinarily bright. Was there such a thing?" "How did you hear it?" "I heard it one day coming from Liaofeng Pavilion. I was afraid of interrupting your pure melody, so I listened quietly for a while and then left. I was just going to ask you: the first part is in level tone, but at the end it suddenly shifts to oblique tone. What does that mean?" "This is the natural voice of the human heart. You go as far as you go—there's no fixed rule." "I see. It's a pity I don't understand music. I listened in vain for a while." "How many true connoisseurs of music have there been since ancient times?" When Baoyu heard this, he felt he had spoken rashly again, and he was afraid of chilling Daiyu's heart. He sat for a while; in his mind there were many things he wanted to say, but he could find nothing more to say. Daiyu, for her part, had also spoken on impulse just now, and upon reflection felt she had been rather cold. She too had nothing to say. Baoyu, all the more, suspected that Daiyu was harboring some doubt about him. He stood up awkwardly. "Sit and rest, Sister. I'm going to go have a look at Third Sister." "If you see Third Sister, give her my regards." Baoyu promised and went out.

Daiyu saw him to the doorway of the room, then returned to sit in melancholy silence. She thought to himself, "Baoyu's words lately have been half-spoken, half-swallowed—now hot, now cold. I cannot fathom what he means." She was deep in thought when Zijuan came in and said, "Miss, are you not writing the sutra? I've already put away the brush and inkstone." Daiyu replied, "I'm not writing anymore. Put them away." With that, she walked into the inner room and lay down on the bed, slowly turning things over in her mind. Zijuan came in and asked, "Would you like a bowl of tea, Miss?" Daiyu said, "No, I don't want any. I'm just resting a bit. You may go." Zijuan assented and went out, where she found Xueyan sitting alone, lost in a daze. Zijuan walked up to her and asked, "Have you also got something on your mind?" Xueyan, so absorbed in her reverie, was startled by the question. "Don't shout," she said. "I heard something today—let me tell you, isn't it strange? But you must not breathe a word." She nodded toward the inner room, then walked ahead, beckoning Zijuan to follow her out to the platform below the door, where she whispered, "Have you heard, Sister? Baoyu has been betrothed!" Zijuan was shocked. "Where did that come from? I'm afraid it's not true." Xueyan said, "How could it not be true? Everyone else probably knows—we're the only ones who haven't heard." Zijuan asked, "Where did you hear it?" Xueyan said, "I heard Shushu say it. It's the family of some prefect—good family, good fortune, and the young lady is a fine match." Just then Zijuan heard Daiyu cough inside, as though she were getting up. Fearing she might come out and overhear, Zijuan took Xueyan's hand and motioned for silence, glancing inside. Seeing no movement, she whispered again, "What exactly did he say?" Xueyan said, "The other day, didn't Miss Tanchun send me to thank her? She wasn't in her room, only Shushu was there. We sat together and somehow began talking about Master Bao's mischief—how he's so good at playing the fool, not at all like a grown man. Shushu said he'd already been promised in marriage, yet he's still so muddle-headed. I asked whether the match was settled, and she said it was, arranged through some Master Wang. That Master Wang is a relative of the East Mansion, so there was no need to make inquiries—the match was settled as soon as it was proposed." Zijuan tilted her head and thought, "This is strange!" Then she asked, "Why hasn't anyone in the household spoken of it?" Xueyan said, "Shushu said it was the Old Lady's wish. If it were mentioned, they feared Baoyu might grow wild at heart, so no one speaks of it. Shushu told me and warned me strictly not to let on—she said if it came out, it would be blamed on my loose lips." She pointed toward the room. "So even before her, I haven't mentioned it. Today you asked, so I didn't keep it from you." Just then the parrot called out, mimicking human speech: "Miss is back! Quick, bring tea!" This startled both Zijuan and Xueyan. They turned but saw no one, and scolded the parrot before going back inside. They found Daiyu gasping for breath, just seated in a chair. Zijuan made some excuse about tea and water. Daiyu asked, "Where have you two been? I couldn't find a single person." With that, she walked to the kang, threw herself down, lay on her back, and told them to lower the bed curtains. Zijuan and Xueyan assented and withdrew. Both of them suspected that their words might have been overheard, so they agreed not to mention it again. But Daiyu, burdened with her own secret thoughts, had in fact eavesdropped on Zijuan and Xueyan's conversation. Though she hadn't caught every word, she had understood seven or eight parts in ten, and felt as though she had been cast into the middle of a vast sea. Turning it over in her mind, she realized it confirmed the prophecy from her dream the other day. A thousand sorrows and ten thousand resentments piled upon her heart. After much deliberation, she decided it would be better to die sooner, so as not to witness whatever unexpected things might come—that would only be unbearable. She thought again of the bitterness of having lost both her parents, and from that day on she began to neglect herself more and more. In a year or half a year, she would surely find her way to final peace. Having made up her mind, she neither covered herself with quilts nor added clothing, but simply closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Zijuan and Xueyan came to wait on her several times, but seeing no movement, they dared not call out. She didn't eat supper either. After the lamps were lit, Zijuan lifted the bed curtain and found that she had already fallen asleep, her quilt kicked down to the foot of the bed. Fearing she might catch cold, Zijuan gently pulled it up over her. Daiyu didn't move, but as soon as Zijuan left, she kicked it off again. Zijuan kept asking Xueyan, "Is what you said today really true or false?" Xueyan said, "How could it not be true?" Zijuan said, "How does Shushu know?" Xueyuan said, "She heard it from Xiaohong." Zijuan said, "Earlier, when we were talking, I'm afraid the Miss heard us. From her expression just now, there was every reason to suspect it. From now on, we'd better not mention this matter." With that, the two of them prepared for sleep. When Zijuan went in again, she found Daiyu's quilt had been kicked down once more, and she gently covered her again. The rest of the night passes without mention.

The next day, Daiyu rose at dawn without calling anyone, sitting alone in a daze. Zijuan woke and, seeing Daiyu already up, asked in surprise, "Miss, how are you up so early?" Daiyu said, "Indeed, I went to sleep early, so I woke early." Zijuan quickly got up, roused Xueyan, and helped with washing and dressing. Daiyu sat before the mirror, staring blankly at her own reflection. After gazing for a while, her tears fell in an unbroken stream, soaking through her silk handkerchief. Truly:

Her gaunt reflection faced the mirror of spring waters—

"Pity me, and I shall pity you."

Standing by her side, Zijuan dared not offer comfort, fearing that idle words might only stir up old sorrows. After a long while, Daiyu at last made a hasty toilet, though the tear-stains in her eyes would not dry. She sat alone for some time longer, then said to Zijuan, "Light the hidden incense."

"Miss, you've barely slept—why light incense now? Are you going to copy sutras?"

Daiyu nodded.

"You woke too early today, and now you're copying sutras again. Aren't you overtaxing yourself?"

"I'm not afraid. The sooner it's finished, the better. Besides, it's not really for the sutras—I'm just using the writing to pass the time. In the days to come, when you see my handwriting, it will be as though you've seen me."

As she spoke, the tears poured down.

Hearing these words, Zijuan could no longer offer comfort; she herself could not help shedding tears. Daiyu had already made up her mind: from this point on, she would deliberately waste away her body, taking no interest in food or drink, and each day she grew thinner. When Baoyu returned from school, he would often find time to inquire after her, yet though Daiyu had a thousand things on her heart, she knew she was no longer young and could not, as in her childhood, use tender words to draw him near. Her heart was full, but she could not speak. Baoyu wished to comfort her with honest words, yet feared she might take offense and grow still worse. When the two met, they could only exchange hollow pleasantries—truly, intimacy had bred distance.

Though Daiyu had the sympathy of Grandmother Jia, Lady Wang, and the others, they merely summoned physicians and prepared medicines, supposing she suffered from her usual ailments. They had no idea of the sickness in her heart. Zijuan and the others understood, but dared not speak. Day by day she dwindled, and after a fortnight her stomach grew so weak that at last she could not even swallow gruel. Everything she heard by day sounded to her like talk of Baoyu's betrothal; everyone she saw in Happy Red Court, high or low, seemed part of the preparations for Baoyu's wedding. When Aunt Xue came to visit, and Daiyu did not see Baochai, her suspicions deepened. She refused to see anyone and would take no medicine—she desired only a swift death. In her sleep she often heard someone called "Second Master Bao's Lady." A single suspicion became a phantom of her own imagining. At last she stopped eating altogether, refusing even to drink gruel, sinking into a listless breath, hovering at the brink of death.

What became of Daiyu's life? Read the next chapter to find out.