The Red Chamber (55 page)

She feels the loss of Xifeng more than she would ever have imagined. Many times during a day, when the carriage trimmings arrive badly sewn, or the servants are slow to serve dinner, or the conversation with a guest flags, she turns unthinkingly to ask Xifeng for advice or help, before realizing that she is gone. Xifeng had always worked so tirelessly and efficiently that she had made herself indispensable to everyone around her, without their realizing it. Only now that Baochai must take over her tasks does she realize how much Xifeng did. She is even more surprised at the emotional hole that Xifeng’s death has left: how much Xifeng’s steadiness and liveliness had kept up her own spirits, even though Baochai had never confided in or understood her. Intimidated by Xifeng’s restless manner and sharp tongue, Baochai always kept her distance and distrusted her. Now, she thinks, there was no reason for distrust. When Xifeng suggested that Baochai break her betrothal with Baoyu, Baochai had suspected an ulterior motive. She sees now that Xifeng had probably spoken out of simple concern for her welfare. She remembers how disgusted and contemptuous she had been when she stumbled on Xifeng’s affair. Now, having learned how it is possible for a husband to be absent even when physically present, she imagines the years of loneliness Xifeng had faced.

As she kneels, sobbing, she hears a sound behind her. It is Lady Jia, limping along with a cane. Lady Jia almost never ventures out of her apartments these days, and certainly never goes anywhere without someone to lean on. In fact, Baochai would never have supposed that she was physically capable of coming here. Hastily, she gets to her feet. There is a chair near the coffin for mourners to sit on. Baochai pulls it over for Lady Jia, and Granny sinks into it.

She is moved by the effort it must have taken Granny to come all the way to the shrine to mourn Xifeng. She must have been mistaken in believing Granny unaffected by Xifeng’s death. “Have you come to make an offering?” she asks.

“I’ve come to see you.”

Baochai is surprised. “If you wanted to see me, you could have had me come to your apartments, instead of walking all this way.”

“I wanted to see you alone.”

Baochai waits expectantly, but Lady Jia says nothing, staring moodily at Xifeng’s coffin.

After a long silence, Baochai says, “How will we manage without Xifeng?”

Lady Jia turns to look at her. “There’s no need to put on these virtuous airs with me. I should have thought you would be glad to be rid of her.”

Startled by the cruelty of her words, Baochai says, “What do you mean?”

“You needn’t pretend to be stupider than you are, either. Obviously it will be easier for you to manage the household without having to compete with her for control of everything.”

“I—I don’t want to be in control of everything,” Baochai stammers.

Lady Jia stares at her, as if considering the truth of her statement. “No, I suppose not. But Xifeng did. I remember when she first came, she was so ambitious, so eager to show she was cleverer than other people. So I let her run the household, because she would have made trouble if I hadn’t given her something challenging to do.” Lady Jia sighs, shaking her head. “But, still, she got into trouble: those loans, and that affair with Jia Yucun, and who knows what else?”

Baochai had never dreamed that Lady Jia knew of the affair. She tries to keep her face blank, but Lady Jia sees her astonishment, and laughs.

“Yes,” Lady Jia says, her eyes crinkling in malicious amusement. “I knew. Why else did he come sneaking around all the time? Making a fuss about it would have just created a big scandal. I figured out long ago that sometimes it’s better not to let on how much I know.” Her face darkens. “I knew that Baoyu and Daiyu were having an affair, too, before you told me.”

This time, Baochai gasps and stares at her, unable to control her shock.

“Yes. When Daiyu came, I always knew there would be trouble. I sensed that there was something between the two of them, but I was willing to let it go. As long as no one knew about it, who did it hurt, after all? I thought he would get tired of her, and would stop wanting to marry her.

“But then, when you found out and came to tell me about it, I had to do something, of course. Since you were betrothed to him, out of respect for your and your mother’s feelings, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Besides, you told me that he had given her the jade, which I would never have dreamed …”

Baochai stands perfectly still. Lady Jia had known all along and had done nothing. It had truly been her own tattling that had destroyed Daiyu. She remembers how she had been buoyed by self-righteous indignation, as if it had been her duty to inform Granny of the terrible breach of social mores—whereas the truth was that Granny didn’t expect anyone to adhere to those norms. Now she wonders what would have happened if she had not told. Maybe Daiyu would be happily married to Baoyu, and she, to someone else. Maybe the two of them would still be friends.

Now Granny Jia is talking about Daiyu. “She was selfish, like Min, always thinking about herself and never about her family. Parents have always chosen their children’s matches, but no, she wanted to choose her husband by herself. She always had to be an exception …” As Lady Jia talks about Daiyu, Baochai thinks that the same could be said of Baoyu. It is the same refusal to accept the success and security that everyone else strives for that has made him run away.

Granny Jia looks Baochai in the eye. “I knew what kind of person you were when you told me what she and Baoyu were up to. You didn’t shirk your duty. You weren’t hampered by sentimental ideas. That was why I chose you to marry Baoyu years ago. You’re like me, and I wanted you, not Xifeng or Daiyu, to run the family after I’m gone.”

Baochai wants to resist Lady Jia’s words, but a part of her has to admit that they are true. She compares Xifeng and Granny. She had been used to thinking of Xifeng as hard and cold-hearted, because of her treatment of the servants, but, looking back, she sees that Xifeng had risked herself for the sake of the three people that she loved, Jia Yucun, Qiaojie, and Ping’er. In contrast, Lady Jia claimed to dote on, at various times, Xifeng, Baoyu, and Baochai. In reality, Lady Jia had favored each person only as long as he or she was useful to the family. She pampered Baoyu because he was likely to pass the Exams. Her kindness to Xifeng lasted as long as Xifeng did an exemplary job of running the household; Granny was the first to suggest getting Lian a second wife when Xifeng didn’t bear a son. Granny chose Baochai as a match for Baoyu because of the Xues’ wealth and power, and because she thought Baochai would be able to succeed her as matriarch. For all her little gifts and compliments, Lady Jia is cold, swayed only by pragmatism and never by personal feeling. While her interests always focused on the advancement of the family, she understood that what was best for the family also ensured her own comfort and security.

As for Baochai, does she really resemble Lady Jia? She had considered
Daiyu her closest friend, but then, unlike Xifeng, she had betrayed her friendship in order to make sure her own marriage would prosper. She had married Baoyu knowing that he loved another woman. Perhaps Granny is right. Perhaps she is Lady Jia’s true heir after all. Her eyes fall on her belly, already growing round beneath the waist of her gown, and she thinks of Baoyu. Perhaps, she thinks bitterly, she is simply the victim of unrequited love, marrying Baoyu because she loved him even though he did not return her feelings. That makes her more foolish than either Daiyu or Xifeng.

7

Baochai sits on the
kang
in the room that she had shared with Baoyu, exhausted by the day’s trip to the family burial grounds for Xifeng’s interment. A tiny, half-finished vest lies in her lap, but she feels too tired and dispirited to work on it.

She hears the sound of quick steps outside the door curtain and Jia Zheng comes in. Knowing that he would never burst in on her like this unless there was news, she jumps up, crying, “You’ve heard something about Baoyu?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

She sees how somber his face is, and feels a spasm of panic. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No, no!” Jia Zheng shakes his head reassuringly. “Why would you think that? In fact, it’s good news.”

“What is it?”

“The Examination results were posted today—”

“Did he pass?”

“Yes—”

“Thank Heaven!” She clasps her hands together. For a moment, her pain over his disappearance recedes in a feeling of triumph and relief.

“In fact,” Uncle Zheng continues, “he passed at the top of the lists.” He smiles. “Third out of three hundred and sixty candidates, no less. Huan didn’t pass, but I hardly expected him to.”

“That’s wonderful!” Baochai can hardly believe it. At last Baoyu has shown how exceptional and talented he really is. At last he has made some return for all the care and love that the family has given him. “Third! It’s marvelous!”

It strikes her that Uncle Zheng still looks grave, despite the wonderful news. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy?”

“You’re forgetting that we still haven’t found him yet.”

She laughs. “Of course, he will come back and show himself now, when he finds out that he’s actually passed at the top of the lists!”

Jia Zheng looks at her a little strangely. “Do you really think he is
suddenly going to pop out and reveal himself, like a child playing hide-and-seek? The reason that all our inquiries have yielded nothing is that he does not want to be found.”

“But surely now that he’s proven to everyone how talented he is, now that he’s achieved everything he worked so hard for, he will come back! He has only to reappear, and then he’ll probably get a high position, and everyone’s respect, and …”

Uncle Zheng’s mouth twists into a bitter smile. “You act as if Baoyu were like other people.”

She is surprised, and irritated, by Uncle Zheng’s pessimism. “Well, I think all people, even Baoyu, want to succeed rather than fail, and want praise rather than blame, no matter what airs they put on.”

“Then why didn’t he study before? He must have known he was clever enough to pass without much difficulty.”

She shrugs. “He was too lazy, I suppose.”

“Then what made him stop being lazy? What made him want to study so hard in the end?”

For some reason, Uncle Zheng’s persistent questioning brings tears to her eyes. She blinks them away, pondering the question, trying to fathom Baoyu’s motivations. “I’m not really sure,” she says at last. “I thought he was growing out of those strange, childish ways of his. I thought that being in prison changed him. When he saw how desperate the family was after the confiscation, I suppose he realized he couldn’t shirk his duty anymore.”

“That was part of it, I think. But in reality he was deceiving us, and he was the same old Baoyu. Don’t you see? He wouldn’t study hard when he had everything to gain by it, not even when I beat him for it.” Uncle Zheng shakes his head, as if still trying to make sense of it himself. “No, I think he studied hard at the end only because he knew he was leaving, and wanted to make it up to us somehow. That was Baoyu: he would never act out of pragmatism, only out of sentimentality, feelings—”

“You mean you think he had decided to leave long ago?” she says, shocked.

“Yes.”

She cannot speak for pain. Her mind rushes back to her time with Baoyu. Could it be that their sexual life, which she took as a sign of intimacy, was simply his attempt to do his duty by impregnating her before he left? Did he marry her always knowing that he would leave? She feels a surge of anger such as she has never felt before. Didn’t he realize how
terrible it would be for her? Did he think she had no feelings? At the same time, she feels so humiliated that she resolves not to tell anyone, not even her mother, what Uncle Zheng had said. She manages to speak with composure until Uncle Zheng leaves. When her mother comes in, she has regained enough control of herself to act as if she is delighted by Baoyu’s Examination results.

PART SEVEN

Third Month, 1736

The ornamented zither, for no reason, has fifty strings.

Each string, each fret, recalls a glorious year.

Master Zhuang in his morning dream, entranced by a butterfly,

Emperor Wang gave his heart, full of spring, to a cuckoo.

Vast ocean, bright moon, the pearls shed tears.

At Lantian, sun warmed, the jade breathes mist.

This feeling, if I could wait, would become a fleeting memory.

Only, at the time, I was already overcome.

Li Shangyin, “The Ornamented Zither”

1

Baochai settles herself at the head of the breakfast table in Lady Jia’s old chair as the rest of the family takes their seats. Standing behind her, Lian’s wife Autumn ladles out the rice porridge, while Huan’s wife, Hushi, passes around the steaming bowls. The group gathered around the breakfast table is just as numerous and bustling as it was in the old days when she was growing up at Rongguo. However, looking around the table as she picks up her chopsticks, she is struck by how different the faces are. Her father-in-law, Uncle Zheng, sitting to her left, looks roughly the same as before, only his hair has grown more grizzled, and his paunch more pronounced. But the lower end of the table, where Daiyu and the Two Springs used to sit, is now occupied by Lian and Huan and their children, attended by a gaggle of nannies and wet nurses. Jia Zheng had arranged Huan’s match to Hushi eight years ago, after Huan passed the Exams. Now they have two childen, a boy and a girl. A year after Xifeng’s death, Lian had found her former maid Autumn in the service of the Countess of Xiping. He had bought her back as a concubine, and elevated her to principal wife after she had given birth to a daughter and two sons.