The Red Chamber (41 page)

Baochai walks home quickly from Jingui’s house, eager to tell her mother the news. Jingui has kept her promise. Xia San had set out for Nanjing last week with a message for Pan. As she turns onto Drum Street, lowering her head against the blustery wind, she sees a well-dressed young woman walking back and forth along the alley as if looking for an address. When the woman turns towards her, she sees that it is Snowgoose.

“Snowgoose!” She hurries towards the maid. Her first impulse is to throw her arms around her. She seems like a ghost from a remote and happier life. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And you, Miss Baochai?”

“I’m fine. Where did the Embroidered Jackets take you? Are you serving in another household now?”

“Yes. I was sent to the Princess of Nan’an’s palace after the confiscation. I’m her body servant now.”

It is no wonder that Snowgoose, with her intelligence and beauty, has swiftly attained a position of status in another household. She is as dainty and self-possessed as ever, her hands thrust into a squirrel muff, her cheeks powdered and rouged. It strikes Baochai that her manner, though pleasant, is formal; and she shows no particular pleasure at seeing Baochai.

“And the other senior maids?” she asks. “Where have they been sent?”

“I think Oriole was sent to the Countess of Xiping’s. Chess was sent to Academician Mei’s house, and Pearl was sent to General Guo’s. I haven’t seen any of them since the confiscation.”

“How did you find us?”

“Master Rong told me your address.”

“You’ve heard that Lord Jia and the others are in prison?” Baochai
says, surprised that Snowgoose does not seem curious as to the fate of the rest of the family.

“Yes, the Princess told me.”

“I suppose you’d like to see Lady Jia. Why don’t you come in?”

“Actually, I came to see you.”

Baochai is taken aback. “What for?”

“I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Yes, what is it?” Baochai says, at a loss.

“Miss Lin is sick. I remember you used to have those big, thick ginseng roots, and I was wondering if I could have a few for her.”

“Miss Lin!” Baochai’s heart gives a funny bound. “You know where she is?”

“Yes, she came to live with my family.” As Snowgoose speaks, she looks straight into Baochai’s eyes. A maid’s eyes ought to be lowered submissively when talking to a mistress; there is challenge and accusation in the directness of Snowgoose’s gaze. The Jias had been so negligent of Daiyu’s safety during the confiscation that it had been left to a servant to take her in.

“She’s ill, you said?” Baochai stammers.

“She is so delicate, and she had that bad cough last winter.”

Baochai bridles at the maid’s presuming to explain something about Daiyu to her, before she remembers, with a pang of shame, that by her own treatment of Daiyu she has forfeited any right to claim friendship or concern for her cousin.

“It got cold so quickly this fall,” Snowgoose continues. “And our place is a little drafty.”

Baochai can only imagine what sort of place Snowgoose’s home is. Even the Jias’ present quarters are probably palatial by comparison. She might beg Granny to let Daiyu return to live with them, but she knows how implacable Granny’s anger is.

“If you can spare any of that ginseng …” Snowgoose says.

“I’m so sorry. Everything was taken in the confiscation.”

“Oh.” Snowgoose’s face falls.

Baochai hesitates. “Is she very sick?”

Snowgoose looks at the ground.

“What does the doctor say?”

“He says it’s consumption.” Snowgoose’s voice is so low that Baochai must lean close to catch the last word. Her heart sinks. Consumption is nearly incurable, even by the best doctors. Daiyu’s mother had died of the same disease.

“Are you sure?”

“We had a second doctor come, and he said the same thing.”

It must have been a great burden for Snowgoose’s family to pay for two doctors. She wishes she had a few
taels
to give Snowgoose, but Xifeng keeps all the family’s cash. She sees tears in Snowgoose’s eyes. The maid rubs them quickly away. “I must go. The Princess can spare me for only an hour or two.”

“Don’t you want to pay your respects to Lady Jia?”

“I’m afraid I can’t. Perhaps I can come back another time.” Snowgoose turns to go.

Again it strikes Baochai that Snowgoose speaks politely but without warmth. She thinks of all the years Snowgoose served Lady Jia, yet she has not even asked about her old mistress’s health. What binds her to Daiyu, whom she seems to treat like a sister?

“Snowgoose!” she calls. The maid has already gone a few steps.

“What is it?” Snowgoose turns back.

“Can you give me your address? I’d like to see her.”

Snowgoose is silent. Baochai fears Snowgoose will tell her that Daiyu does not want to see her. At last, Snowgoose says, “Do you have anything to write on?”

Baochai has a crumpled shopping list and a stump of charcoal. Snowgoose takes them from her. Pressing the paper against a wall, she writes the address slowly and painstakingly on the back.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write.”

“I know just a few characters. Miss Lin taught me.”

Snowgoose hands Baochai the paper and disappears.

4

Xifeng stands outside the busy apothecary, fingering the small packet of medicine the druggist had compounded for her. She reads over Dr. Wang’s prescription, making sure that she had seen the druggist measure out each of the ingredients:
banlangen
, coix, licorice, mulberry leaf, forsythia, wild chrysanthemum, orange peel, and ginseng. Dr. Wang had taken a serious view of Qiaojie’s ailment. She suffered from excessive heat in the lungs accompanied by a serious deficiency of
yin
. In addition, it was necessary to supplement her diet in order to strengthen her
qi
. He had also recommended bird’s nests as a tonic for her lungs.

This apothecary, the best in the city, is known for the purity and high quality of its ingredients. She stands outside its door wondering whether she should go to a cheaper place to get the bird’s nests. After a moment, she plunges back into the apothecary and buys three drams. She walks away feeling the one silver
tael
left in her sleeve. When she looks up, she sees Jia Yucun walking towards her on the other side of the street. She has not laid eyes on him in more than half a year. He has gained weight, making him look older, more substantial, and wears robes of heavy blue brocade. She turns quickly down a side alley. How much has she changed, for the worse, with her shabby robe and her face roughened and bare of makeup?

She has gone only about ten paces when she hears the sound of hurried footfalls behind her. She quickens her pace. In that brief moment when she hears his panting breath and running steps behind her, she feels a bittersweet happiness. Whatever else has happened between them, whatever words they will exchange, it is he who is chasing her.

He calls her name, but she hurries on, ignoring him.

“Xifeng!” She feels his hand on her arm, and pulls away. He grasps her arm again, so that she swings around and faces him.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to know—are you all right?” His voice is hoarse and his face looks pale, perhaps from the exertion of running.

“What’s it to you?” She jerks herself away.

“Why are you acting like this?” He runs after her and catches her arm again.

“You think I’m a fool? You think I don’t know that you gave evidence against Uncle Zheng?”

“I had no choice.”

She snorts scornfully.

“It’s true.” He stumbles on, as if eager for a chance to explain himself. “If I hadn’t mentioned Jia Zheng, they would have thought I was protecting him because he was my kinsman. And he was vulnerable already. He was too naïve, and hadn’t cultivated his relationships with his superiors properly. Even if I hadn’t named him, someone else would have …” He holds her hands, as if pleading for her understanding.

She yanks them away. “Don’t try to justify yourself! Didn’t you ever think what it would be like for me, for Ping’er and Qiaojie, being thrown out of our home?”

“I loved you. I wanted to take care of you.” She sees beads of sweat on his brow despite the chilly autumn air. “It was you who broke things off.”

She feels a rush of triumph—he loves her still and is still wounded by their parting—but also a piercing sadness. “What could I do? I’m married.” In her pain, she lashes out at him. “And why should I believe you? If you loved me, you chose a strange way of showing it.”

“What choice did I have? After you wouldn’t see me anymore, what could I do but throw myself into my work?”

“Yes, but you’ve gotten married, too. You haven’t wasted any time in forgetting me.”

She knows him so well that she can see from the tightening of his lips that she has touched a sore spot. “The Eunuch Chamberlain arranged the match for me.”

“I’m sure you wanted to refuse,” she sneers. “I’ve heard she’s perfectly beautiful.”

“I did want to refuse. You know the Marquis of Donghou. Do you think I dare disobey him in any matter, no matter how trivial? If I do anything my wife dislikes, she complains to him immediately. I knew it would happen, but how could I refuse?”

Despite herself, she believes him. Without money and family of his own, how can he stand up to his powerful in-laws? Suddenly she feels very tired. She turns back towards the main road. “There’s no use talking.”

“Where are you going?” He trails after her.

“Home.”

“Where is that?”

Without looking at him, she says, “We’re renting a small apartment off Drum Street, south of Rongguo.”

After a pause, he says, “Can’t we see each other?” He gives an awkward laugh. “After all, Lian’s in jail now.”

She stares at him. Would he really risk it, now that he has so much to lose? As for herself, even if she could find a way to disappear for a few hours without anyone noticing, even if she could tear herself away from Qiaojie, would she want to? Meeting him, which had once seemed so pleasurable, now seems pure pain. What has changed? He had betrayed the Jias, but she does not after all condemn him: Wouldn’t she have done the same in his circumstances? Has she simply lost hope that he could rescue her or help her in any way? She feels a welling of self-pity, but it is as much for him as for herself. He is as trapped as she is.

“Good-bye,” she says, without looking at him. She slips into the surge of people on the main thoroughfare and lets herself be borne away on their stream.

5

Baochai buttons up her padded robe in the back room.

“It’s windy,” her mother says. “You’d better wear a scarf.”

She has told no one, not even her mother, that she plans to visit Daiyu. Instead she has said she is going to see if Jingui has heard from Pan. She goes out into the front room, wrapping a scarf around her shoulders. Xifeng and Ping’er are holding a wailing Qiaojie over a pot of steaming water with a towel draped over her head. After finding the congestion in Qiaojie’s lungs worse at his last examination, Dr. Wang had recommended this process as a means of clearing them. Now Xifeng is slapping Qiaojie’s back, not gently, to loosen the phlegm.

Xifeng looks up. “Will you be going by an apothecary?”

“Yes, there’s one on Huizhong Street.”

“Would you get a dram of bird’s nests? We’re almost out.”

“Of course.”

Xifeng goes to the back room, where she keeps the cash box under a pile of Qiaojie’s clothes. In a moment she returns empty-handed, her expression harried. “Never mind. We don’t have enough money. I’ll have to pawn a bracelet.”

“I can do it if you like.”

“That’s all right. I’ll do it. You won’t be able to get as much money for it as I will,” Xifeng says with a flash of her old playfulness.

As Baochai sets out, she looks down at the address Snowgoose had given her. She guesses she will have to walk across nearly the length of the city, a distance of perhaps four or five
li
, the longest she has ever walked by herself. She is nervous that strange men will harass her, but everyone scurries about with their heads bowed against the gritty wind. The wind is the worst part of her walk, making her eyes water and her head ache.

When she gets to the southern edge of the city, she is surprised to see how different it is from Drum Street. She had thought Drum Street shabby and dingy, but here, the streets are narrower, the houses denser, the corners piled with refuse. She gathers her courage to ask a woman
emptying a chamber pot where Flowers Street is. The woman directs her to a street a little farther on. When she gets there, she sees a blacksmith working in front of his shop, and decides to ask him where the Zhens live. She approaches the forge, spitting red sparks, and calls to him above the roar of the fire. He steps away from the forge, and when he hears that she is looking for the Zhens, he looks at her in some surprise. “I am Zhen Shiyin. What can I do for you?”

With a start, she realizes he must be Snowgoose’s brother. Beneath the soot and sweat he is quite a young man. She is appalled that Daiyu could be living here amid all this smoke and noise. “Excuse me,” she stammers. “I’m Xue Baochai. I am looking for my cousin, Lin Daiyu.”

She sees that his expression has become wary, even a little unfriendly, and wonders what Daiyu and Snowgoose have told him.

“Yes, she’s here. Come this way.” His voice is so quiet that she can hardly hear it over the fire. He turns away from the forge, wiping his hands on a cloth tucked into his leather apron. He goes behind his shop to a door on the side of the building and knocks gently. Then, sticking his head in, he calls, “There is someone here to see you,” and opens the door wide to let Baochai in.

She hesitates a moment before stepping through. The door closes behind her, shutting out much of the noise of the forge, but also much of the light. She blinks, adjusting to the darkness, and sees a small, dingy room. In the meager light of a single high window, she sees a thin figure in a welter of blankets on the
kang
struggling to pull on a jacket, one sleeve on and one sleeve off. The figure looks up, and Baochai sees that it is Daiyu, her black eyes blazing with hope and joy. She has grown so thin that Baochai hardly recognizes her. As Daiyu looks at Baochai, the glow and color drain from her face. She stops trying to dress, and lets herself flop back on the pillows with a hopeless little sigh. Baochai understands. When Daiyu heard that someone was there to see her, she had imagined that it was Baoyu. Doesn’t she know that Baoyu is in prison? She has not seen Daiyu since that day more than two months ago when she had washed Daiyu’s hair. Surely Daiyu’s coldness means that she knows that Baochai had betrayed her.