Chapter 78: The old scholar composes a eulogy for a phantom maiden; The infatuated youth writes an elegy for hibiscus

After the two nuns had led away Fangguan and the others, Lady Wang went to the Dowager’s apartments to pay her morning respects. Seeing the old lady in good spirits, she took the opportunity to report: “There is a maid in Baoyu’s rooms named Qingwen. That girl is grown up now, and she’s never free from illness the whole year round. I often noticed she was more mischievous than the others and also lazy. A few days ago she fell ill again for over ten days. I called a physician to see her, and he said it was consumption. So I hurriedly dismissed her. If she recovers, there’s no need to let her come back; we might as well give her to her family to marry off. As for those few girls who studied opera, I also took it upon myself to let them go. For one thing, since they can all sing opera, they have no restraint in their speech and only chatter nonsense—how could that be proper for young ladies to hear? For another, since they have performed opera for a while, it is only fitting to release them. Moreover, we have too many maids as it is. If we find the number insufficient, we can pick a few more to replace them.” The Dowager listened and nodded, saying, “This is quite reasonable. I was just thinking the same. But that girl Qingwen—I always thought she was excellent. How did it come to this? In my view, among all these maids, none could match her in appearance, liveliness, conversation, or needlework. In the future, she was the only one fit to serve Baoyu. Who would have thought it would turn out this way?” Lady Wang smiled and said, “The one you picked, Your Old Ladyship, was indeed good enough. It’s only that she was unlucky and thus fell ill. As the saying goes, ‘A girl changes eighteen times before she’s grown.’ Besides, those with ability are inevitably a bit unruly. Your Old Ladyship has experienced everything—what haven’t you seen? Three years ago, I began to pay attention to this matter. At first, I only chose her, and I kept an eye on her. Observing her coldly, I saw that though she excels others in every way, she is not very steady. If we talk about steadiness and understanding of propriety, no one surpasses Xiren. Though it is said that a virtuous wife and a beautiful concubine are desirable, it is better to have one with a gentle disposition and dignified manners. Even Xiren’s looks, though slightly inferior to Qingwen’s, still count as first or second rate when placed in the household. Moreover, her conduct is generous, her heart is honest, and over these past few years, she has never flattered Baoyu into mischief. Whenever Baoyu was bent on some wild prank, she would only remonstrate with him to death. Thus, after evaluating her for two years and finding her faultless, I quietly stopped her maid’s monthly allowance and allocated two taels of silver from my own allowance to her. This was only to make her understand that she must be even more cautious and improve herself. And I didn’t make it public, firstly because Baoyu is still young, and if his father knew, he might worry that it would distract him from his studies; secondly, Baoyu might think she was his own person and not dare to admonish him, which would instead make him willful. That’s why I only now report it to Your Old Ladyship.” The Dowager listened and laughed, saying, “So that’s how it is. This is even better. Xiren has been quiet and taciturn since childhood; I always thought she was a mute gourd. Since you know her so well, there can’t be any great mistake. And your idea of not telling Baoyu is even better. For now, let no one mention this matter; we just know it in our hearts. I know well that in the future Baoyu will not listen to the advice of wives or concubines. I can’t figure it out either; I’ve never seen such a child. Other kinds of mischief are to be expected, but this fondness of his for the maids is hard to understand. I’ve worried about it and often observed him coldly. He only plays with the maids—surely it must be that as he grows older, his heart expands, and he knows about men and women, so he likes to be close to them. But when I examined him carefully and tested him, in the end it wasn’t for that reason. Isn’t that strange? Perhaps he was originally a girl who was mistakenly reborn as a boy.” At this, everyone laughed. Lady Wang then brought up how Jia Zheng had praised Baoyu that day and how he had taken them out for a stroll. The Dowager was even more delighted.

Presently, they saw Yingchun, fully dressed, come to take her leave. Xifeng also came to pay her morning respects, attended to the Dowager during breakfast, and chatted and laughed for a while. After the Dowager had taken her afternoon nap, Lady Wang called for Xifeng and asked if the pills had been prepared yet. Xifeng replied, “Not yet; I’m still taking herbal medicine. You needn’t worry, madam; I’m already much better.” Seeing that Xifeng’s spirits had fully recovered, Lady Wang believed her. Then she told her about dismissing Qingwen and the others, and added, “How is it that Baochai went home to sleep without any of you knowing? The other day I happened to make a round of inspection. Who would have thought that Lan Xiaozi’s new wet nurse is also extremely coquettish and flighty? I don’t like her either. I’ve already spoken to your sister-in-law about it—whether good or bad, let her go. Besides, Lan Xiaozi is grown up and no longer needs a wet nurse. I asked your elder sister-in-law: ‘Surely you knew that Baochai had left?’ She said Baochai had told her, and that she would only be gone for two or three days, until her aunt was better, then she would return. But your aunt is not really seriously ill—it’s still just coughing and back pain, which happens every year. Her going off like this must have some reason. Could someone have offended her? That girl has a heavy heart. Since we’re living together as relatives, we shouldn’t offend anyone, or it will turn out badly.” Xifeng laughed, “Who would deliberately offend her? Besides, she spends every day in the garden, and it’s only those girls of hers.” Lady Wang said, “It couldn’t be that Baoyu, with his loose tongue and foolish, careless ways, said something thoughtless when he was happy—that’s possible.” Xifeng laughed, “This is you worrying too much, madam. When it comes to going out on serious business or speaking serious words, he’s like a fool. But when he’s called inside among these sisters or among the maids, young or old, he is most deferential and afraid of offending anyone. No one would ever be angry with him. I think Cousin Baochai’s leaving must be because of the search the other day through the maids’ belongings. She naturally thought that because we didn’t trust the people in the garden, we conducted the search. Since she is a relative, and now there are maids and matrons of hers there, we couldn’t very well search them, and she was afraid we might suspect her. So she became sensitive and withdrew herself. It was also proper to avoid suspicion.” Lady Wang thought this was reasonable, lowered her head and pondered for a moment, then ordered someone to invite Baochai over. She explained the previous incident to dispel her suspicions and urged her to move back in as before. Baochai smiled politely and said, “I had intended to leave earlier, but you, Aunt, had many important matters, so it was inconvenient to bring it up. As it happened, the day before yesterday my mother was unwell again, and the two reliable women at home were also sick, so I took the chance to leave. Now that you, Aunt, know of it, it’s best I explain the reasons clearly. Let me take my leave from today and move my things out.” Lady Wang and Xifeng both laughed, “You are too stubborn. You really ought to move back in; don’t let trivial matters estrange us from our relatives.” Baochai smiled, “That’s not clear at all. I didn’t leave for any particular reason. I left because, first, my mother’s spirits have been much lower than before, and at night there is no reliable person with her—only me. Second, my brother is about to take a wife, and there is much needlework and household utensils to prepare, and some things are still lacking. I must help my mother with the arrangements. You, Aunt, and Sister Xifeng know our family’s affairs—I’m not lying. Third, ever since I moved into the garden, the small corner gate in the southeast has often been left open, originally for my convenience. But it’s hard to prevent people from taking that shortcut, and no one checks them. If some trouble arises from there, it would embarrass both sides. Besides, my moving into the garden was never a major affair. In earlier years, when we were all young and the household had no troubles, it was better to come inside and keep the sisters company—doing needlework or playing—than to sit bored outside. But now we are all grown up, and we all have our own affairs. Moreover, in recent years, you, Aunt, have encountered many unfortunate incidents. The garden is too large; if you can’t attend to everything at once, problems arise. Having fewer people means less worry. So today, not only am I insistent on leaving, but I also advise you, Aunt, to reduce what can be reduced—it won’t harm the family’s dignity. In my view, the expenses for the garden could even be done away with. I won’t speak of the old days. You, Aunt, know my family well—was our household always so desolate?” When Xifeng heard this speech, she turned to Lady Wang and said with a smile, “What she says is reasonable; there’s no need to press her to stay.” Lady Wang nodded and said, “I have nothing to say in reply. I’ll just let you do as you wish.”

While they were speaking, Baoyu and the others had already returned, saying that because his father’s feast had not yet broken up and they feared it would get dark, they had been sent back first. Lady Wang hastily asked, “Did you disgrace yourself today?” Baoyu smiled and replied, “Not only did I not disgrace myself, but I actually brought back quite a few things.” Then some old women took items from the pages at the second gate and brought them in. Lady Wang looked and saw three fans, three fan pendants, six boxes of brushes and ink, three strings of fragrant beads, and three jade belt rings. Baoyu said, “These are gifts from Academician Mei, from Vice-Minister Yang, and from Secretary Li—one set for each.” Saying this, he took a small sandalwood amulet of a guardian Buddha from his bosom and added, “This was given to me personally by Duke Qing.” Lady Wang then asked who had been present at the feast and what poems had been composed, and after these matters were discussed, she had Baoyu’s portion taken along and went with Baoyu, Jia Lan, and Jia Huan to pay their respects to the Dowager. The Dowager was overjoyed and could not help asking further questions. But Baoyu’s mind was wholly preoccupied with Qingwen, and after he had finished his replies, he said that riding the horse had jolted him and his bones ached. The Dowager then said, “Go quickly to your room and change your clothes. A little exercise will do you good—don’t lie down.” Hearing this, Baoyu hurried into the Garden.

By this time, Sheyue and Qiuwen had already arrived with two maids to wait for him. When they saw Baoyu take leave of the Dowager and come out, Qiuwen picked up the brushes and ink, and they all followed Baoyu into the Garden. Baoyu kept complaining, “So hot!” as he walked, removing his cap and loosening his belt, taking off his outer garments and handing them to Sheyue to hold, so that he was only wearing a pine-green silk-lined jacket, from beneath which showed a pair of crimson trousers speckled like drops of blood. Qiuwen, recognizing these red trousers as the work of Qingwen’s needle, sighed and said, “These trousers should be put away from now on. Truly, the things remain, but the person is gone.” Sheyue quickly smiled and added, “These are indeed Qingwen’s handiwork.” She also sighed, “Truly, the objects outlast the person!” Qiuwen tugged at Sheyue’s sleeve and said with a smile, “These trousers, paired with the pine-green jacket and the stone-blue boots, only make his indigo-black hair and snow-white face stand out even more.” Baoyu, walking ahead, pretended not to hear. After taking two more steps, he stopped and said, “I want to take a stroll. What’s to be done about this?” Sheyue said, “In broad daylight, what is there to fear? Are you afraid of being lost?” Then she ordered the two young maids to follow, saying, “We’ll deliver these things and come back.” Baoyu said, “Dear sisters, wait for me before you go.” Sheyue replied, “We’ll go and return shortly. The two of us each carrying things looks like we’re arranging a procession—one holding the scholar’s four treasures, the other bearing the cap, robe, belt, and shoes—what a spectacle!” Baoyu, hearing this, found it suited his purpose, so he let them go.

He then took the two young maids behind a rock and, without doing anything else, simply asked them, “Since I left, has your sister Xiren sent anyone to see how sister Qingwen is?” One of them answered, “She sent Old Woman Song to see her.” Baoyu asked, “What did she say when she came back?” The young maid replied, “She said that sister Qingwen cried out all night with her neck stretched, and this morning at dawn she closed her eyes, stopped speaking, knew nothing of the world, and couldn’t even make a sound—she was only breathing her last.” Baoyu hastily asked, “Who was she calling all night?” The young maid said, “She called for her mother all night.” Baoyu wiped his tears and asked, “Who else did she call?” The young maid said, “I didn’t hear her call anyone else.” Baoyu said, “You’re confused; you must not have heard clearly.” The other young maid, who was very clever, heard Baoyu say this and stepped forward to say, “He really is confused.” Then she said to Baoyu, “Not only did I hear clearly, I even secretly went to see her myself.” Baoyu, hearing this, quickly asked, “How did you go to see her yourself?” The young maid said, “Because I thought that sister Qingwen was different from others in ordinary times—she treated us extremely well. Now that she has been sent away despite her grievances, we had no other way to save her, so I thought I’d go and see her myself, so as not to waste the kindness she always showed us. Even if someone found out and reported it to the mistress, and we got a beating, I’d be willing to bear it. So I risked a beating and secretly went down to see her. Who would have thought that her intelligence, which she had all her life, would remain unchanged even unto death? Because she thought that vulgar people were not worth talking to, she just kept her eyes closed and conserved her strength. When she saw me arrive, she opened her eyes, took my hand, and asked, ‘Where has Baoyu gone?’ I told her the truth. She sighed and said, ‘I cannot see him.’ I said, ‘Sister, why not wait until he returns to see you once? Wouldn’t that fulfill both your wishes?’ She smiled and said, ‘You don’t understand. I am not dying. Right now, there is a vacancy among the flower spirits in Heaven, and the Jade Emperor has decreed that I should take charge. I am to assume my post as flower spirit at the hour of wei, the second quarter. Baoyu will not return home until the third quarter of wei. There is only a quarter of an hour’s difference, so we cannot meet. For ordinary mortals who are fated to die, the King of Hell sends minor demons to seize their souls. If there is a delay of a little while, it only takes burning some paper money or offering some gruel, and the demons will scramble for the money, allowing the dying person to linger a bit longer. But now I am summoned by a heavenly immortal—how can I delay even a moment?’ When I heard this, I didn’t quite believe it. But when I went into the room and carefully looked at the timepiece, it was indeed the second quarter of wei when she breathed her last, and at the third quarter someone came to call us, saying you had arrived. At that moment, everything matched perfectly.” Baoyu hastily said, “You don’t know how to read or study books, so you don’t understand. This is indeed possible—not only does each flower have its own spirit, but besides one spirit for each kind of flower, there is also an overall flower spirit. But I wonder: did she go to be the overall flower spirit, or does she oversee just one kind of flower?” The young maid, hearing this, couldn’t invent an answer on the spot. It happened to be the eighth month, and the hibiscus flowers were in full bloom by the pond in the Garden. The young maid, inspired by the scene, quickly replied, “I did ask her what kind of flower spirit she would be, so that we could make offerings to her later. She said, ‘Heaven’s secrets cannot be revealed. Since you are so devout, I will tell you only, but you must tell no one except Baoyu. If you reveal Heaven’s secrets to anyone else, the five thunderbolts will strike your head.’ Then she told me that she was to be the spirit in charge of these hibiscus flowers.” Hearing this, Baoyu not only found nothing strange about it, but his grief turned to joy, and he pointed at the hibiscus flowers, smiling, “This flower truly needs such a person to govern it. I always thought that someone like her must achieve some great deed. Although she has escaped the sea of suffering and we can never see each other again, I cannot help but feel sorrow and longing.” Then he thought, “Though I did not see her at the end, I can still go and bow before her spirit tablet, to fulfill the affection of these five or six years.”

Having thought this, he hurried back to his room, changed into proper attire, and, claiming he was going to see Daiyu, left the Garden alone. He went to the place where he had previously gone, expecting her coffin to be housed there. But it turned out that her elder brother and sister-in-law, as soon as she breathed her last, had carried her away, hoping to receive a few taels of funeral money quickly. When Lady Wang heard of this, she ordered a grant of ten taels for burial expenses. She also commanded, “Send her out immediately to be cremated. The girl died of consumption—she must not be kept!” Hearing this, her brother and sister-in-law, having received the silver, hired someone to encoffin her and carried her to the cremation grounds outside the city. The remaining clothes, shoes, hairpins, and rings, worth about three or four hundred taels, they kept for their own future use. The two of them locked the door and went together to escort the funeral, not yet having returned. Baoyu arrived and found the place empty.

Baoyu stood there for a long time, having no other recourse, and could only turn back to enter the garden. When he returned to his room, he felt utterly bored, so he went along the path to find Daiyu. As luck would have it, Daiyu was not in her room. When he asked where she had gone, the maids replied, “She’s gone to Miss Baochai’s place.” Baoyu then went to the Alpinia Garden, only to find it silent and empty, the rooms stripped bare, which startled him greatly. Suddenly he saw an old woman approaching, and Baoyu hastily asked what the reason was. The old woman said, “Miss Baochai has moved out. This place has been left for us to watch over, and we haven’t finished clearing it yet. We’ve helped send some things over, and that’s about all. Please, sir, you’d better leave now, and let us sweep up the dust. From now on, you’ll save yourself the trouble of coming to this spot.” Baoyu, hearing this, stood dumbfounded for a long time. Then he looked at the fragrant vines and strange creepers in the courtyard, still lush and green, but suddenly they seemed more desolate than yesterday, adding to his sorrow. He silently went out and saw that the verdant path outside the gate had also been deserted for half a day, with no one coming and going, unlike the days when maids from all directions would converge incessantly. He bent down to look at the water under the path, still flowing gently and silently. Then he thought to himself, “How can there be such heartless things in heaven and earth!” After grieving for a while, he suddenly remembered that Siqi, Ruhua, Fangguan, and the other five had been sent away, Qingwen had died, and now Baochai and the others from this place had left. Although Yingchun had not yet gone, she hadn’t returned for days, and matchmakers had been coming one after another to propose marriage: it seemed that everyone in the garden would soon scatter. Even if he worried, it would do no good. It would be better to go find Daiyu and spend a day with her, then come back and stick with Xiren. Only these two or three people, perhaps, would share life and death with him. After thinking this, he went back to the Naiad’s House, but as luck would have it, Daiyu had not yet returned. Baoyu thought he ought to go out and see them off, but he couldn’t bear the grief, so he decided it was better not to go. Crestfallen, he turned back.

Just as he was at a loss for what to do, a maid from Lady Wang’s quarters suddenly came in to find him, saying, “The master has returned and is looking for you. He’s come up with another fine topic. Hurry, hurry.” Baoyu, hearing this, had no choice but to follow her out. When he reached Lady Wang’s room, his father had already left. Lady Wang ordered someone to escort Baoyu to the study.

By then, Jia Zheng was already discussing the scenic spots of autumn outings with his many advisors, and he said, “Just as we were about to disperse, we suddenly touched on a matter that is the finest tale for the ages, combining the eight words ‘romantic and refined, loyal and righteous.’ It makes a fine topic, and everyone wants to compose a eulogy.” The advisors, hearing this, hastily asked what kind of matter it was. Jia Zheng then said, “Once there was a prince with the title of Prince Heng, who was stationed in Qingzhou. This Prince Heng was extremely fond of beautiful women, and in his spare time from official duties, he loved martial arts. So he selected many beauties and had them practice martial arts daily. Whenever he had free time, he would hold feasts for days on end, making the beauties practice combat and tactics. Among his concubines was one surnamed Lin, the fourth in the family. She was not only the most beautiful but also the most skilled in martial arts, and everyone called her Lin Siniang. Prince Heng was most delighted with her and promoted her above the others to command all the concubines, also calling her the ‘General Guihua.’”

All the retainers exclaimed, “Marvelous and miraculous! Using ‘Guihua’ before ‘General’ makes it even more charming and romantic—truly an unparalleled and strange composition. It seems Prince Heng must have been the most romantic figure of all ages.” Jia Zheng laughed and said, “That’s naturally so, but there’s an even more remarkable and lamentable matter.” The retainers, startled, asked, “We wonder what strange thing comes next?” Jia Zheng said, “Who would have thought that the next year a rabble of remnants from the ‘Yellow Turbans’ and ‘Red Eyebrows’ bandits would gather again, plundering the area east of the mountains. Prince Heng thought they were no better than dogs and sheep, not worth a major campaign, so he led a light force to suppress them. Unexpectedly, the bandits were quite cunning and resourceful. After two unsuccessful battles, Prince Heng was killed by them. Then the civil and military officials in Qingzhou all said, ‘If the prince couldn’t prevail, what can we do?’ So they were about to surrender the city. When Lin Siniang received the dreadful news, she gathered all her female officers and issued an order, saying, ‘In the past, we all received the prince’s kindness, as vast as heaven and earth, and we could never repay even a ten-thousandth of it. Now that the prince has died for the state, I intend to die for him as well. Those who wish to follow me, come with me immediately; those who don’t, disperse quickly.’ When the female officers heard this, they all declared their willingness. So Lin Siniang led them out of the city that very night, charging straight into the bandits’ camp. The bandits were unprepared, and several of their leaders were killed. Then, seeing that it was only a few women, they thought they couldn’t achieve much, so they turned their weapons around and fought fiercely, leaving not one of Lin Siniang’s group alive. Thus, Lin Siniang fulfilled her loyalty and righteousness. Later, when the news reached the capital, from the emperor to all the officials, everyone was astonished and amazed. Afterwards, the court naturally sent someone to suppress them. When the imperial army arrived, the bandits vanished—no need to go into that. But just this episode of Lin Siniang—gentlemen, after hearing it, is it not admirable?” All the advisors sighed and said, “Truly admirable and remarkable. It’s indeed a fine topic, and we all ought to compose a eulogy.” As they spoke, someone had already fetched a brush and inkstone. Following Jia Zheng’s words, they made a few minor changes and turned it into a short preface, which they handed to Jia Zheng to read. Jia Zheng said, “It’s just so-so. They already have the original preface there. Yesterday, due to an imperial decree, we were ordered to investigate and check those from previous dynasties who deserved commendation but had been overlooked and not reported, whether monks, nuns, beggars, or women—anyone with a commendable deed was to have their records sent to the Ministry of Rites for consideration of favors. So his original preface has also been sent to the Ministry of Rites. When everyone heard this news, they all wanted to compose a ‘Poem of Guihua’ to commemorate her loyalty and righteousness.” Hearing this, everyone laughed and said, “That’s exactly as it should be. But what’s even more admirable is that our dynasty has unprecedented and generous favors, truly unmatched by any previous era. It can be said that ‘in a sage dynasty, there are no omissions.’ The Tang poets said it in advance, and it has come true in our dynasty. Now, this age is not undeserving of that saying.” Jia Zheng nodded and said, “Exactly.”

As they spoke, Jia Huan and his nephew also arrived. Jia Zheng had them look at the topic. Although both could compose poetry, in terms of the substance in their minds, they were not far from Baoyu. But first, they were on a different path—in the matter of the civil service examinations, they seemed superior to Baoyu, but in miscellaneous learning, they were far inferior. Second, their talent was sluggish and dull, not as quick and elegant as Baoyu’s. Whenever they wrote poems, it was like the eight-legged essay style, inevitably rigid and pedantic. As for Baoyu, though he wasn’t considered a scholar, he was gifted with natural intelligence and had always enjoyed reading miscellaneous books. He believed that even the ancients had made up things or made mistakes, so one couldn’t be too rigid in comparisons. If one was always afraid of this and that, even a pile of words would feel tedious. With this mindset, whenever he saw a topic, regardless of difficulty, he could handle it without effort, like a glib-tongued person in the world who makes something out of nothing, relying on a clever mouth to spin long tales, fabricating and stretching a story. Although it might be unfounded, it could charm everyone into delight. Even those with stern and serious words couldn’t suppress this kind of flair. Recently, Jia Zheng, growing older, had greatly diminished his ambition for fame and fortune, but originally he too had a nature that loved poetry and wine and was unrestrained. Because he was among the younger generation, he had to guide them on the right path. Lately, seeing that although Baoyu didn’t study, he was quite capable of understanding such things, and upon careful evaluation, he didn’t disgrace the ancestors too much. He recalled that the ancestors were all like this—even those deeply versed in the examinations had never achieved prominence. It seemed to be the fate of the Jia family. Besides, his mother doted on the boy, so he no longer forced him into the examination path. Thus, he treated him like this these days. He also wanted Jia Huan and Jia Lan, aside from their examination studies, to be like Baoyu, so whenever they were to compose poetry, he would always summon the three of them together to compete.

Enough of such digressions. Let’s say that Jia Zheng then ordered the three of them each to compose a eulogy, with a reward for the first to finish, and an extra reward for the best one. Jia Huan and Jia Lan, having already composed several poems in front of others recently, had grown bolder. Now, seeing the topic, they each began to ponder. In a short while, Jia Lan finished first. Jia Huan, afraid of falling behind, also finished. Both had copied out their poems, while Baoyu was still lost in thought. Jia Zheng and the others looked at their two poems. Jia Lan’s was a seven-character quatrain, which read:

All the staff officers read it and praised it greatly: "For a lad of thirteen to produce such work shows the depth of his family's learning—truly no false claim." Jia Zheng smiled and said, "It still has a child's touch, but we can't fault him too much." Then he looked at Jia Huan's poem, a five-character regulated verse, which read:

The company said, "Even better. Being a few years older, his conception is naturally different." Jia Zheng said, "It's not entirely wrong, but it still lacks sincerity." The company said, "That's acceptable. Third Master is not yet two years older, and at an age before capping, to produce such work with effort, in a few years he'll surely be like the elder and younger Ruan." Jia Zheng said, "You flatter him too much. It's just that he's remiss in his studies." Then he asked about Bao-yu. The company said, "Second Master, with his meticulous craftsmanship, will surely produce something sentimental and moving, different from these." Bao-yu laughed and said, "This subject seems unsuited to modern-style verse; it needs an old-style poem, either a song or a ballad, a long piece, to be sincere." Hearing this, the company all stood up, nodded, and clapped, saying, "I said his conception would be different! Every time he gets a subject, he first considers whether the form is suitable—that's the master's clever method. It's like cutting a garment: before using the scissors, you must measure the figure. This subject is called 'The Ballad of the Fair Warrior,' and since there's a preface, it must be a long ballad in the old style to fit the form. Either imitating Bai Juyi's 'Song of Everlasting Sorrow' or imitating ancient ballads, half narrative and half lyrical, smooth and elegant, to approach perfection." Jia Zheng, hearing this, found it suited his own mind, so he took up his brush to write on the paper, then said to Bao-yu with a smile, "In that case, you recite and I'll write. If it's no good, I'll give your flesh a beating. Who allowed you to boast so boldly beforehand!" Bao-yu had no choice but to recite a line, which was:

Jia Zheng wrote it down and looked at it, shaking his head, saying, "Rough and vulgar." One staff officer said, "That's what makes it ancient and simple; it's not really coarse. Let's see what follows." Jia Zheng said, "We'll keep it for now." Bao-yu then recited:

Jia Zheng wrote it out, and everyone said, "Just this third line is ancient, sturdy, and masterful. These four lines, flatly narrated, are most fitting." Jia Zheng said, "Don't give random praise; let's see how the turn goes." Bao-yu recited:

Hearing these two lines, everyone exclaimed, "Marvelous! What a fine 'Not a trace of dust and sand rising'! And then the line 'A charming shadow in the lamplight'—the words and phrasing are inspired." Bao-yu said:

Hearing this, the company clapped and laughed, saying, "It's even more vividly painted. Were you present at the time, Bao-yu, seeing her delicate demeanor and smelling her fragrance? Otherwise, how could you be so perceptive?" Bao-yu laughed and said, "A lady practicing martial arts, however brave, cannot compare to a man. Without asking, one can imagine her delicate and timorous form." Jia Zheng said, "Hurry up and continue; you've had your say." Bao-yu had to think for a moment, then recited:

Everyone said, "The shift to the 'tao' and 'xiao' rhymes is even better—this is smooth and flowing. And this line is also charming and elegant." Jia Zheng wrote it down, looked at it, and said, "This line is no good. You've already written 'fragrant breath' and 'delicate and hard to lift,' so why this again? It's a sign of insufficient strength, using more piled-up stuff to fill in." Bao-yu laughed and said, "A long ballad needs some embellishments to adorn it, otherwise it feels too sparse." Jia Zheng said, "You're just using these, but how can the next line turn to martial matters? If you add two more lines, won't it be drawing legs on a snake?" Bao-yu said, "In that case, the next line can turn and close off; I think that should work." Jia Zheng sneered and said, "What skill do you have? You started with a grand opening line, and now you want to turn and close in one line—aren't you overreaching?" Bao-yu, hearing this, hung his head, thought a moment, and recited a line:

He quickly asked, "Is this line acceptable?" The company pounded the table in applause. Jia Zheng wrote it down, looked at it with a smile, and said, "Keep it there for now; continue." Bao-yu said, "If it's acceptable, I'll write the whole thing in one go. If not, I'll just erase it and think of another idea, starting over with different wording." Jia Zheng, hearing this, scolded him, "Enough talk! If it's no good, do it again. Even if you write ten or a hundred pieces, are you afraid of the trouble?" Bao-yu, hearing this, had no choice but to think for a while, then recited:

Jia Zheng said, "Another section. What comes next?" Bao-yu said:

Everyone said, "What a fine word 'walks'! It shows the difference in height. And the whole line's turn isn't stiff." Bao-yu then recited:

Everyone said, "Marvelous, marvelous! The structure, the narrative, the diction—all are perfect. Let's see how it reaches Fourth Sister; there must be another clever turn and striking line." Bao-yu then recited:

Everyone said, "The narrative is tactful." Jia Zheng said, "It's too much; the rest might be cumbersome." Bao-yu then recited:

After finishing, everyone praised him endlessly, and all read it from the beginning again. Jia Zheng smiled and said, "Though you've said a few lines, it's still not very sincere." Then he said, "You may go." The three of them, as if granted amnesty, left together and returned to their respective rooms.

The company had nothing else to say; they merely wished each other goodnight and retired. Only Bao-yu was filled with sorrow. Returning to the garden, he suddenly saw the lotus flowers on the pond and remembered the little maid's talk of Skybright being the lotus spirit. Involuntarily, he felt delighted again, and he gazed at the lotuses, sighing for a while. Then he suddenly thought that after her death, he had not yet made an offering at her grave. Why not make an offering before the lotuses now? That would fulfill the rites and be more original than the vulgar custom of going to the grave. Having thought this, he was about to perform the ceremony. But then he stopped, thinking, "Even so, it must not be too hasty. I must dress properly and prepare all the ritual offerings to show sincerity and respect." He thought for a moment, "If I imitate the worldly funeral rites, that would never do. I should create a new style, set up a different ceremony, one that is elegant and strange, unconnected with the world, so as not to betray the character of us two. Besides, the ancients said, 'The water from a puddle, the humble duckweed and water plants, can be offered to princes and presented to the gods.' The value lies not in the offerings themselves, but entirely in the sincerity of the heart. That is one point. Second, the elegy and funeral ode must also come from my own ideas, with my own vision, and not follow the old formulas of predecessors, filling in a few words to deceive the eyes and ears. It must be written with tears and blood, every word choked with sobs, every line a cry, so that even if the words are insufficient, the grief is abundant. Above all, I must not value literary embellishment and lose the sorrow. Besides, the ancients often used subtle criticism; I am not the first to start this. But nowadays everyone is obsessed with the word 'merit,' and the ancient customs have been completely swept away, for fear of being out of step and harming their prospects. I don't care about such merit, nor do I seek the world's admiration, so why not follow the methods of the ancient Chu poets in pieces like 'The Great Speech,' 'Summoning the Soul,' 'Encountering Sorrow,' 'The Nine Declarations,' 'The Withered Tree,' 'Questions and Answers,' 'Autumn Floods,' and 'The Biography of Mr. Great Man'? I can mix single phrases, occasionally form short couplets, use real allusions, or create metaphors, following my whim and writing freely. When happy, I can play with words; when sad, I can voice my grief through them. I'll stop when the words express my meaning fully—why be bound by worldly conventions confined to a small space?" Now, Bao-yu was originally not a studious person, and with this perverse idea in his heart, how could he produce good poetry? He freely fabricated whatever came to mind, not caring for anyone's admiration, so he indulged in wild fancies and composed a long piece, written in standard script on a piece of ice-mermaid silk, which Skybright had liked, and titled it "The Lotus Maid's Elegy," with a preface and a song. He also prepared four of Skybright's favorite things, and that night under the moonlight, he had the little maid carry them before the lotus flowers. After performing the ceremony, he hung the elegy on a lotus branch, and weeping, he recited:

In the year of Great Peace Unchanging, in the month when cassia and lotus vie in fragrance, on a day of helplessness, I, Turbid Jade of Happy Red Court, reverently offer the stamens of a hundred flowers, ice-mermaid silk, water from Seeping Fragrance Spring, and maple-dew tea. Though these four things are humble, they serve to express my sincerity and faith. Thus I make this offering to the Lotus Maid, who presides over autumn's beauty in the palace of the White Emperor, saying:

I pondered to myself: This daughter, from the time she descended into this foul mortal world, has lived altogether sixteen years. Her earlier birthplace and family name have long since been lost and become untraceable. As for me, I was able to be close to her during her times of washing, sleeping, rising, and playing, sharing a life of intimacy for only five years and eight months or a little more. Thinking back before her death, her quality could not be matched by gold or jade in nobility; her nature could not be matched by ice or snow in purity; her spirit could not be matched by stars or sun in essence; her appearance could not be matched by flowers or moon in beauty. Her sisters all admired her quiet grace, and the elderly women all revered her virtuous character. Who would have thought that evil birds would envy her for flying too high, and the brave eagle would instead be caught in the net; that foul weeds would begrudge her fragrance, and the sweet orchid would be uprooted by the hoe! The flower was naturally fragile—how could it withstand the fierce wind? The willow was naturally sorrowful—how could it bear the violent rain? By chance, she fell victim to the slander of wicked, petty men, and thus contracted an incurable, grave illness. Therefore, her cherry-like lips lost their redness, emitting painful moans; her apricot-like face lost its fragrance, showing a haggard countenance. Rumors, slanders, taunts, and insults came from behind the screen and curtains; thorns and brambles spread right up to the doors and windows. How could it be that she courted destruction by inviting resentment? It was truly that she endured humiliation and ended her life. She harbored deep, endless melancholy and contained infinite wrongs. Her noble character drew envy, leaving a legacy of regret in the women's quarters that could be compared to Jia Yi, who was relegated to Changsha; her upright and firm nature encountered peril, and her tragedy among women was even greater than that of Gun, who was executed at Feather Mountain. She accumulated bitterness within herself—who would pity her untimely death! The immortal clouds have already scattered, and her fragrant traces are hard to find. Lost is the path to the Land of Assembled Caves—where can one seek the soul-returning incense? On the sea, the immortal's raft is gone, and the medicine to revive the dead cannot be obtained. The dark brows like smoke—yesterday I painted them; the jade on the finger ring is cold—now who will warm it? The remaining medicine in the stove and tripod is still there; the lingering stains of tears on the lapels remain. The mirror of the female phoenix is shattered, the male phoenix is separated—I sorrowfully open the makeup case of Sheyue; the comb has turned into a dragon and flown away, and I grieve as I break the teeth of Tan Yun's comb. The gold hairpins are discarded among the grass; from the dust I pick up the jade hair ornaments. The Queque Tower stands empty, vainly hanging the needle for the Qixi Festival prayer; the Yuanyang belt is broken—who will mend it with five-colored threads? Moreover, now it is the season of autumn, when the White Emperor governs the seasons. Alone under the quilt, I can only dream; in the empty room, there is no one. The moonlight darkens the steps beneath the wutong tree; the fragrant soul and graceful shadow vanish together. Within the hibiscus bed-curtains, the fragrance has dissipated; the gentle breath and soft whispers have ceased. The withered grass stretching to the horizon—is it only reeds and rushes? Everywhere, the sounds of sorrow are nothing but the chirping of crickets. On the evening steps, dew dampens the moss; through the curtain, I cannot hear the sound of the winter washing block. By the autumn wall, rain drips on the ivy; across the courtyard, I occasionally hear a mournful flute. Her fragrant name has not yet been extinguished—the parrot before the eaves still calls it; her beautiful form is about to fade—the crabapple outside the railing has withered prematurely. In hide-and-seek behind the screen, her lotus steps are soundless; in the game of grasses before the courtyard, the orchid waits in vain. The embroidery thread is abandoned and broken—who will cut the silver paper and colored thread? The icy silk is snapped, and the imperial incense in the golden iron has not yet been pressed. Yesterday, obeying my father's stern command, I hurriedly traveled far to the fragrant garden; today, again defying my mother's authority, I leaned on my staff and hastily abandoned the lonely coffin. When I heard that the outer coffin was burned by fire, I was ashamed to have broken the vow of sharing a grave; the stone outer coffin brought disaster, and I am ashamed to face the mockery of "ashes together after death." You, in the ancient temple amidst the west wind, linger with the blue will-o'-the-wisps; on the desolate mound beneath the setting sun, your white bones lie scattered. The catalpa and elm trees rustle; the mugwort and grass sigh mournfully. Through the mist-shrouded grave, gibbons cry; around the smoke-veiled ridges, ghosts weep. I thought myself, within the red silk bed-curtains, to be the deep-feeling young master; only now do I believe that within the yellow earth mound, the daughter's fate is thin! Like Prince Runan's tears of blood for Biyu, they fall in spots and drops on the west wind; like Shi Chong's lingering affection for Green Pearl, it silently speaks, relying only on the cold moon. Alas! This was originally a calamity wrought by venomous demons—could it be that the gods were also jealous? Seal the mouth of that wicked slave—should the punishment be lenient? Cut open the heart of that cruel woman—my hatred is not yet appeased! Although your bond with this mortal world was shallow, how could my foolish intentions, Baoyu's, end here? Therefore, I have accumulated this earnest longing and cannot help but ask with sincere and repeated inquiry. Only now do I know that the Supreme Emperor has lowered his banners, and the Flower Palace awaits your summons; in life you ranked with orchids and angelicas, and in death you govern the hibiscus. To listen to the little maid's words seemed like nonsense; but judging by my own, Baoyu's, thoughts, I find them deeply grounded. Why? In the past, Ye Fashan summoned a soul to compose an epitaph, and Li He was summoned by the Heavenly Emperor to write the record of the White Jade Tower—the events differ, but the principle is the same. Therefore, in measuring things to match ability, if that person were not of such talent, how could they be carelessly appointed? Only then do I believe that the Supreme Emperor entrusted you to govern the hibiscus—it can be said to be extremely fitting and harmonious, and likely not to disappoint the talent bestowed upon you. Hence I hope that your undimmed spirit may perhaps descend here. I, in particular, presumptuously write these vulgar words, defiling your keen hearing. I thus compose a song to summon your soul, saying:

You dwell in the primal chaos, silent and at peace, and although you have descended here, I cannot see you. I pluck misty creepers as a screen, and arrange rushes as a solemn guard. I warn the willow eyes not to sleep, and dissolve the bitter taste of the lotus heart. The Plain Maiden meets you at the cassia cliff, and the Fufei welcomes you at the orchid shore. Nongyu plays the jade sheng, and Hanhuang strikes the yu. I summon the consort of the Song Mountain god, and invite the Old Woman of Lishan. The divine tortoise presents the spiritual token of the Luo River, and the hundred beasts perform the Xianchi dance. Deep in the Red Waters, there is the sound of dragons chanting; above the Pearl Forest, phoenixes dance. I use utmost sincerity to move them, without using ritual vessels. Setting out from the Rainbow City, I only return the banners when reaching the Mysterious Garden. Now a subtle sign appears as if communicating, and then suddenly it is obscured by mist and haze. It gathers and scatters like clouds and smoke; it is empty and vague like mist and rain. The dust settles and the stars hang high; the streams and hills are bright and the moon is at the zenith. Why is my heart so melancholy, as if vividly real in a dream? I then sigh and gaze in sorrow, weeping and wandering aimless. Human voices are still, only the sound of wind through bamboo pipes. Birds startle and scatter in flight; fishes make a nibbling sound. Expressing my grief is a prayer; completing the rites, I hope for good fortune. Alas, alas! May you partake of the offering!

Having finished reading, he then burned the silk, poured out the sacrificial tea, and still could not bear to leave. The little maid urged him three or four times before he finally turned to go. Suddenly he heard a voice laughing from behind a rock, saying, "Please stay a moment." The two of them, hearing this, could not help but be startled. The little maid looked back and saw a human shadow emerge from among the hibiscus flowers. She cried out loudly, "This is bad, there's a ghost! Qingwen has truly come to reveal her spirit!" This frightened Baoyu so much that he quickly looked to see—but listen to the explanation in the next chapter.