CHAPTER 87
Autumnal sounds combine with sad remembrances
to inspire a composition on the Qin
And a flood of passion allows evil spirits
to disturb the serenity of Zen
The serving-woman was shown into the Naiad’s House. After paying her respects, she delivered a letter for Dai-yu and was taken off to drink tea with the maids. Dai-yu opened her letter. It was from Bao-chai, and began:
‘Dear Cousin,
Some malign star must surely have ruled the day of my birth! Misfortune pursues the family at every
turn! Cousin Q in and I both fatherless; Mother advanced in years; to which add the sounds of bestial ululation that now ema?nate from our inner apartments at every hour of the day and night; and, to complete this recital of family woes, Brother Pan’s recent and most cruel blow! Alas! We are indeed beset with howling winds and torrential rains! As I lie awake at night, tossing on my bed, unable to master this grief, my only consolation is the thought of a kindred spirit such as yours. Ah, dear Cousin! You, I know, have the heart to share my present trials, as once you shared the joys of that golden autumn, when harmony and convivial?ity prevailed. Then, united beneath the aegis of the Crab-flower Club, we tasted crustacean delicacies and contem?plated chrysanthemums. Once, I recall, you questioned the flowers thus:
“Who world disdainer, shares your hiding-place?
Of all the flowers, why do yours bloom so late?”
The lines never fail to rive my heart. For are not you and I late blooms, that tremble at the approaching chill?
‘I have endeavoured to compose a lament in four stanzas, to express these feelings of mine. I beg you, read it not as a piece of literary art, but as a simple vessel for my tears.
Your Affectionate Cousin,
Bao-chai.’
The poem was attached.
Alas! the seasons turn, and turning bring once more
The chill of autumn to our joy-forsaken door.
We have a flower,
flos matris is its name,
Heartsease…
Poor Mother! What art
can heal thy grief,
or ease thy heart?
My soul aches for thee.
The scudding clouds
by biting autumn winds are blown;
The courtyard-walk
with withered leaves is thickly strewn.
Whither shall I go?
To whom shall I turn?
My love is gone,
And only an anguish
too deep for words
remains.
My heart is desolate.
The mighty sturgeon
has his pool;
The stork upon the dam
makes his habitation.
Fish in scaly armour,
Birds in serried plumes,
find protection.
In my distress
I question
that inscrutable expanse:
O bowels of earth!
O boundless sky!
Will ye not hearken to my cry?
Above, the twinkling Milky Way;
The air cold,
Slanting moonlight,
The water-clock
sunk past midnight.
My restless heart
grieves still;
I read once more this sad lament,
Before entrusting it to you,
My kindred soul and friend!
Dai-yu was deeply moved. ‘She knew I’d be able to understand!’ she thought to herself. ‘That’s why she wrote to me rather than anyone else.’ She was lost in thought, when a voice called from outside:
‘Is Cousin Lin at home?’
Refolding the letter, she replied in a somewhat distant tone:
‘Who’s that?’
Her visitors were already on their way into the room — Tan-chun, Shi Xiang-yun and the two Li sisters. The girls exchanged greetings, and Snowgoose served them with tea. During the conversation that followed, Dai-yu found her thoughts turning back to the gathering, two years ear?lier, at which they had written the chrysanthemum poems:
‘Don’t you think it’s strange?’ she remarked to the others. ‘Since Cousin Chai moved out of the Garden, she’s only been to see us a couple of times all together. And now it seems as though nothing will induce her to come. I’m beginning to wonder if she’ll ever visit us again.
Tan-chun smiled.
‘Of course she will! It’s just that at the moment things are a bit difficult: Cousin Pan’s wife is rather a tricky sort of person, Aunt Xue is getting on in years, and with this
latest trouble of Pan’s on top of everything else, Chai really is needed to look after things at home. It’s not like the old days, when she was free to do as she pleased.’
As she spoke, they heard a sudden gust of wind outside, and a patter of falling leaves against the paper-covered window. A faint scent drifted into the room. They all tried to guess what flower it could be coming from.
‘It’s very like cassia-blossom,’ suggested Dai-yu.
Tan-chun laughed.
‘Still a southerner at heart! It’s the ninth month, long past cassia-time.’
Dai-yu smiled.
‘You’re right. But then I didn’t say it was, only very like…’
‘Anyway, Tan,’ Xiang-yun butted in, ‘you can’t talk. Don’t you know the lines:
The lotus fragrance drifts for miles,
The cassia blooms till autumn’s end?
In the South, the late-flowering cassia is at its best now. It’s just that you’ve never seen it. If you ever have a chance to go to the South, you’ll be able to see it for yourself.’
‘And what should I be doing in the South?’ retorted Tan-chun with a crushing smile. ‘Anyway, I knew all that ages ago, thanks very much…
The Li sisters grinned at each other.
‘You never know, Tan,’ said Dai-yu. ‘We are “fairy earthlings, fleet of foot”, that’s what the old proverb says. Here today, who knows where tomorrow. Take me, for example. I was born a southerner, but here I am living in the North.’
Xiang-yun clapped her hands.
‘Well said! Dai’s got you there, Tan! And she’s not the only one to have had such an experience. Look at the rest of us. Some of us are northerners, born and bred. Some were born in the South but grew up in the North. And some grew up in the South and then moved here later. And yet here we all are together. It’s our fate, you see. People and places have an affinity. Their karma brings them together.’
They all nodded at Xiang-yun’s little discourse, except for Tan-chun who just smiled. After chatting for a while longer, they got up to go. Dai-yu walked with them as far as the door, and would have gone out, but they dis?suaded her:
‘You’ve only just started to feel better. If you come out now, you might catch a chill.’
So she stood in the doorway, said a few parting words, and watched the four of them walk out of the courtyard gate.
When they had gone, she went indoors again and sat down. The birds were returning to their nests; the sun was setting. With Xiang-yun’s words about the South still ringing in her ears, Dai-yu drifted into a daydream. If her parents were still alive.. . If she still lived in the South, that gentle land of spring flowers and autumn moonlight, of limpid waters and luminous hills… How she would love to be there again, to visit the Twenty Four Bridges in Yangchow and all the famous historical sites of Nanking! In the South she would have plenty of servants of her own to wait on her. She could do and speak as she pleased, sail in painted pleasure-boats and ride in perfumed carriages, watch the fields of red apricot-blossom go by, spot the inn-signs through the trees… She would be a young lady in her own right, not an outsider, dependent on others for everything. However much the Jias did for her, she always felt the need to be on her best behaviour. What wrong had she done in a previous incarnation to deserve this lonely existence? Those words written in captivity by the last emperor of Southern Tang –
Here, all day long, I bathe my face in tears –
how well they expressed her own feelings! Her soul seemed transported to some distant region.
When Nightingale came in, a single glance sufficed to tell her the cause of Dai-yu’s ‘absence’. She had been in the room when Xiang-yun was talking, and knew how easily Dai-yu was upset by the slightest reference to the South.
‘I thought you might feel tired again, Miss,’ she said, ‘after all your visitors and such a lot of talking, so I’ve just sent Snowgoose to the kitchen for a bowl of ham and cab?bage broth, cooked with dried shrimps, dried seaweed and bamboo-shoots. Doesn’t that sound good?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And some congee?’
Dai-yu nodded.
‘I’d rather you and Snowgoose made the congee yourselves. Don’t have it done in the kitchen.’
‘No Miss. You can never be sure how clean things are in the kitchen. We’ll cook the congee ourselves. I asked Snowgoose to tell Cook Liu in the kitchen to take special care with the soup. Cook Liu said we were not to worry, she’d see to it personally and prepare it in her own room. Her daughter Fivey is going to keep an eye on it while it simmers.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ replied Dai-yu. ‘I wasn’t complaining that the kitchen was dirty. It’s just that I’ve been imposing on people for so long, and this illness of mine has caused quite enough extra trouble as it is. With all these special orders for soup and congee, I’m afraid I shall make myself unpopular.’
Her eyes were a tell-tale red.
‘Oh Miss! You’re imagining things!’ protested Night?ingale. ‘You’re Her Old Ladyship’s own granddaughter, the apple of her eye. A chance to serve you is something people compete for, not grumble about.’
Dai-yu nodded thoughtfully.
‘By the way,’ she asked, ‘is that Fivey you mentioned the one who used to be friendly with Parfumée when she was at Master Bao’s place?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Didn’t I hear that she might be going into service at Master Bao’s herself?’
‘Yes, she was. Then she fell ill, and by the time she was better again and ready to start, there was all that trouble over Skybright, and it had to be put off.’
‘I’ve always liked the look of her,’ said Dai-yu.
Meanwhile a serving-woman had arrived with the soup, and Snowgoose went out to fetch it.
‘Cook Liu says to tell Miss Lin this one’s been specially cooked in her room by her Fivey,’ said the old woman, ‘so she won’t need to fuss about its riot being clean.’
Snowgoose said she would relay this message and car?ried the soup into the room. Dai-yu, however, had already heard their conversation, and told Snowgoose to go back at once and ask the woman to thank Mrs Liu on her return. Snowgoose did this, and the old woman went on her way.
Snowgoose now laid out Dai-yu’s bowl and chopsticks on the table.
‘Would you like some of that dried turnip slaw we brought with us from the South, Miss, if I mix a little sesame-oil and vinegar dressing with it?’
‘If you like. But don’t go to too much trouble.’
Snowgoose filled her bowl with congee. Dai-yu ate half and drank a couple of spoonfuls of the soup. She put down her spoon, and the two maids cleared away the things and cleaned the little table, which they then re?moved and replaced with the one that usually stood there. Dai-yu rinsed her mouth and washed her hands.
‘Nightingale, have you put some incense on the brazier?’
‘I was just going to, Miss.’
‘You and Snowgoose have some of the soup and con-gee. They’re good and wholesome. I’ll see to the incense.’
The maids went into the outer room to eat. Dai-yu put some more incense on the brazier and sat down again. She was about to pick up a book to read when her attention
was caught by the melancholy soughing of the wind through the trees outside. A long sigh swept from one end of the Garden to the other. The metal wind-chimes started jangling under the eaves.
Snowgoose was the first to finish her soup, and came in to see if there was anything Dai-yu needed
‘It’s turning colder,’ said Dai-yu. ‘Have those fur clothes had a proper airing yet – the ones I asked you to take out the other day?’
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Bring them here, will you? I’d like something warm to put over my shoulders.’
Snowgoose went out and returned with a bundle of fur-lined clothes, wrapped in a piece of felt. She undid the wrapper and held the clothes out for Dai-yu to choose from. Da.i-yu noticed among the clothes another smaller bundle wrapped in silk. She reached out a hand to pick it up, and untied the wrapper. Inside she found a pair of silk handkerchiefs. She recognized them at once as the ones Bao-yu had secretly sent her during his convalescence! There were the verses she had written on them! Even the tear-stains could still be seen! And next to them in the little bundle were the perfumed sachet she had embroidered for him (and half-demolished in a fit of pique), the torn fan-case, and the snipped remains of the silken cord she had made for his Magic Jade. Nightingale, in sorting out the clothes for airing, must have come across these mementos in one of the chests, and slipped them into this bundle for safety. Dai-yu seemed to have forgotten Snowgoose and the clothes entirely. She stood with the handkerchiefs in her hands and stared at them as though entranced. As she read the verses tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Nightingale came in, to find Snowgoose standing there dumbly, with the felt-wrapped bundle of clothes still held out in front of her, while spread on the little table at Dai?yu’s side were the sachet, fan-case and cord . Dai-yu was holding two faded handkerchiefs with some writing on them, and was gazing at them in tears. As the poet says:
Tokens of past estrangement
Catch the lover’s eye;
Fresh tears fall
On tears of days gone by.
Nightingale knew only too well the tender memories attached to each one of those objects. She thought that sympathy would have little chance of success as a remedy, and decided instead to administer a cheerful rebuke.
‘Come along now, Miss, what’s the sense in looking at things like that? They belong to the past. You and Master Bao were children then. Goodness knows how many silly tiffs you had! All smiles one minute, crying your hearts out the next. Thank goodness you’re both older and have learned to take life a bit more seriously. You wouldn’t dream of spoiling pretty things like these now would you?’
She had meant well. But her words only reminded Dai?yu of the old days with Bao-yu, and released a fresh flood of tears. Nightingale tried again to cheer her up:
‘Come on now, Miss. Snowgoose is waiting. Please choose something to wear.’
Dai-yu let the handkerchiefs drop. Nightingale swiftly retrieved them, wrapped them up again with the sachet and the other things, and put them away.
Finally Dai-yu draped one of the fur-lined jackets over her shoulders and walked listlessly to the outer-room. She sat down, and looking round saw Bao-chai’s poem and letter still lying on the table. She picked them up and reread them a couple of times.
‘The feeling’s the same,’ she said to herself with a sigh, ‘even if our circumstances are different. I should write something in reply. I’ll write four stanzas and set them to an air for the Qin. Then tomorrow I can make a copy and send it to Chai.’
She told Snowgoose to bring in her brush and inkstone, which were on the table outside, and moistening the ink, began to write. When she had completed four stanzas, she took a Qin Handbook from her shelf and looked through it. She decided to make a suite out of the two old melo?dies, Lonely Orchid Pavan and faintly Virtue. Having done the pointing, she wrote out a copy of the words there and then to send to Bao-chai, and asked Snowgoose to fetch the three-quarter size Qin she had brought from home, which was stored in a trunk. She tuned the strings and did a few preliminary finger-exercises. Her natural aptitude compensated for her lack of practice, and it was not long before all that she had learnt as a child came back to her. After playing for a while, seeing that it was already late in the night, she told Snowgoose to put away the Qin, and went to bed. And so we must leave her.
*
One day Bao-yu, after completing his toilet, set off as usual with Tealeaf to go to school. On their way they en?countered Inky, another of his page-boys, who came bounding up to them with a broad grin on his face and announced:
‘Good news, Master Bao! The Preceptor’s not at school today, and you’ve all been given the day off!’
‘Are you being serious?’ asked Bao-yu.
‘If you don’t believe me, take a look: isn’t that Master Huan and Young Master Lan on their way back now?’
Bao-yu looked and sure enough there were his half-brother and young nephew coming towards him with their contingent of pages, chatting away and giggling, though he could not catch what it was they were saying. When they saw him, they halted and stood with their arms respectfully at their sides.
‘Why have you come back from school so soon?’ Bao?-yu asked them.
‘The Preceptor is busy today,’ replied Huan, ‘and says we can all have the day off. We’re to attend as usual tomorrow.’
Hearing this, Bao-yu turned about and, having reported the news to Grandmother Jia and his father, returned to Green Delights.
Why are you back?’ asked Aroma.
He told her what had happened, and after sitting with her for a minute or two made a move to go out again.
‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’ she asked. ‘If you’ve been given the day off school, that doesn’t mean you have to go charging about. You ought to make it a day of rest.’
Bao-yu stopped in his tracks and hung his head.
‘I know you’re right. But when will I next have a chance to get out and have some fun? Be a sport…
He said this in such an appealing tone of voice that Aroma relented.
‘All right,’ she said with a smile.
Meanwhile lunch had been brought in, and he had to stay and eat it. He bolted it down, rinsed his mouth and was off. Fast as a puff of smoke he sped to the Naiad’s House. He found Nightingale in the courtyard hanging handkerchiefs out to dry.
‘Has Miss Lin had her lunch yet?’ he asked.
‘She had half a bowl of congee earlier on,’ replied Nightingale, ‘but wasn’t feeling very hungry. She’s sleep?ing at the moment. You’d better go somewhere else just now, Master Bao, and come back a bit later.’
He left reluctantly, not knowing quite where to go. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had not seen Xi-chun for several days, and he began strolling in the direction of Smartweed Loggia. When he reached the courtyard and stood by one of the windows, it all seemed very quiet and deserted. She too, he concluded, was having her nap and not to be disturbed. He was about to leave when he heard a faint sound coming from inside, too faint to identify. He stood still and listened again, in the hope of hearing it more clearly. There it was! A distinct little tap! He was still trying to think what it could be, when a voice said:
‘Why have you made that move, and not countered there?’
It was a game of Go! But Bao-yu did not have time to recognize the voice of the speaker. He heard Xi-chun reply:
‘Why should I bother? If you take me there, I shall simply counter here, and if you take me again I shall take you again. I shall still be one move ahead, and in the end I shall be able to connect.’
‘And what if I take you here?’
‘Aiyo!’ exclaimed Xi-chun. ‘You had an inside counter?attack up your sleeve. I’m defenceless.’
That other girl’s voice was so familiar! But he still couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t one of his cousins, he was sure of that. And yet Xi-chun was unlikely to be enter?taining an outsider. Lifting the door-curtain very gently aside, he peeped in. The Go-partner was none other than the nun from Green Bower Hermitage, the Dweller Beyond The Threshold, Adamantina. He dared not in?trude any further. The girls were totally absorbed in their game, and had neither of them noticed that they were being spied upon. Bao-yu continued to stand there and watch. Adamantina leant low over the board and said to Xi-chun:
‘Do you want to lose that whole corner?’
‘Of course not! It’s perfectly safe. All those pieces of yours are “dead”., aren’t they?’
‘Are you sure? Go ahead and try.’
‘All right. There’s my move. Now let’s see what you can do.’
A smile crossed Adamantina’s face. She placed her next piece to link up with one she already had on the edge of the board, and then pounced on one of Xi-chun’s pieces and annihilated her entire corner. She laughed:
‘That’s called “Pulling Your Boots Off Upside Down”!’
Before Xi-chun had time to reply, their unobserved observer, unable to contain himself any longer, burst out laughing. The two girls were startled out of their wits.
‘What do you mean by sneaking in here without saying a word?’ exclaimed Xi-chun. ‘What an ill-mannered way to behave, honestly! How long have you been there?’
‘I came in just as you started to play for that corner. I had to watch it out.’
He bowed to Adamantina.
‘Greetings, Reverend Sister!’ he said with a smile. ‘Wherefore this rare excursion from the mystic portals of Zen? What karma brings thee to Maya’s dusty realm?’
She blushed from ear to ear, said nothing, lowered her head and stared at the Go-board. Bao-yu could see that he had embarrassed her, and tried to make up for it.
‘Seriously,’ he said, with a charming smile, ‘how can common mortals compare with those who, like you, have renounced the world? In the first place, you have achieved inner peace. And with that peace comes a deep spiritual?ity. And with that spirituality a clear insight
As he was speaking, Adamantina lifted her eyes a frac?tion and glanced at him. She looked down again at once, and a deep flush spread slowly across her face. Bao-yu realized that she was deliberately trying to ignore him, and sat down awkwardly beside the table. Xi-chun wanted to continue the game, but after a silence Adamantina said:
‘Let’s play another day.’
Having said this, she stood up, straightened out her dress and sat down again. Then, turning to Bao-yu, she asked, in a zany tone of voice:
‘Where have you come from?’
It came as a great relief to Bao-yu that she should speak to him at all, and he was grateful of the chance to remedy his earlier blunder. But then it suddenly struck him that her question might not be as straightforward as it sounded. Was this one of her Zen subtleties? He sat there tongue-tied and red in the face. Adamantina smiled and turned to talk to Xi-chun. Xi-chun smiled too.
‘Cousin Bao,’ she said, ‘what’s so hard about that? Haven’t you heard the saying “I come from whence I come”? To judge by the colour of your face anyone would think you were among strangers. Don’t be shy!’
Adamantina seemed to take this banter personally. She experienced a strange stirring of emotion, and her face grew hot. She knew she must be blushing again, and be?came extremely flustered. Rising to her feet, she said:
‘I’ve been here a long time. I think I should be making my way back to the Hermitage.’
Xi-chun knew the peculiarity of Adamantina’s tempera?ment and did not press her to stay. She was showing her out, when Adamantina gave a little laugh and said:
‘It’s so long since I’ve been to see you, and the way home is so full of twists and turns. I’m afraid of losing my way.
‘Pray allow me to be your guide!’ volunteered Bao-yu promptly.
‘I would be greatly honoured,’ she replied. ‘Please go ahead, Master Bao.’
The two of them said goodbye to Xi-chun and walked out of Smartweed Loggia. Their winding path led them near the Naiad’s House, and as they approached they heard strains of music in the air.
‘That’s a Qin,’ said Adamantina. ‘Where could it be coming from, I wonder?’
‘It must be Cousin Lin playing in her room,’ replied Bao-yu.
‘Really? Is that another of her accomplishments? I’ve never heard her mention it.
Bao-yu repeated what Dai-yu had told him. ‘Shall we go and watch?’ he suggested. ‘You mean listen, I suppose?’ said Adamantina. ‘One listens to the Qin. One never watches.’
‘There you are!’ said Bao-yu with a grin. ‘I said I was a common sort of mortal.’
They had now reached a rockery close to the Naiad’s House. They sat down and listened in silence, touched by the poignancy of the melody. Then a murmuring voice began to chant:
‘Autumn deepens, and with it
the wind’s bitter moan.
My love is far away; I mourn alone.
Gazing in vain
For a glimpse of home,
I stand at my balcony.
Tears bedew my gown.
After a brief pause, the chant began again:
‘Hills and lakes melt
into distant night.
Through my casement shines
the clear light
Of the moon
And the sleepless Milky Way.
My thin robe trembles
As wind and dew alight.’
There was another brief pause. Adamantina said to Bao?yu:
‘The first stanza rhymed on “moan”, the second on “night”. I wonder how the next will rhyme?’
The chant began again from within:
‘Fate denies you freedom,
holds you bound;
Inflicting on me too
a heavy wound.
In closest harmony
Our hearts resound;
In contemplation of the Ancients
Is solace to be found.’
‘That must be the end of the third stanza,’ said Ada?mantina. ‘How tragic it is!’
‘I don’t know anything about music,’ said Bao-yu. ‘But just from the way she sang, I found it terribly sad.’
There was another pause, and they heard Dai-yu tuning her Qin.
‘That tonic B-flat of hers is too sharp for the scale,’ commented Adamantina.
The chanting began again:
‘Alas! this particle of dust,
the human soul,
Is only playing out
a predetermined role.
Why grieve to watch
The Wheel of Karma turn?
A moonlike purity remains
My constant goal.’
As she listened, Adamantina turned pale with horror.
‘Just listen to the way she suddenly uses a sharpened fourth there! Her intonation is enough to shatter bronze and stone! It’s much too sharp!’
‘What do you mean, too sharp?’ asked Bao-yu.
‘It will never take the strain.’
As they were talking, they heard a sudden twang and the tonic string snapped. Adamantina stood up at once and began to walk away.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Bao-vu.
‘You will find out in time. Please don’t say anything about this.’
She walked off, leaving Bao-yu in a state of great confu?sion. Eventually he too made his way dejectedly home. And there our narrative leaves him.
*
Adamantina arrived back at Green Bower Hermitage to find the old lay-sisters waiting for her return. They closed the gate after her and she sat with them for a while, inton?ing her Zen breviary. They had dinner, and after dinner the incense braziers were replenished. They all bowed be?fore the shrine of the Bodhisattva and the women went off duty, leaving Adamantina alone. Her couch and back-rest were set out for her. Sitting cross-legged, she first reg?ulated her breathing and closed her eyes. Then, cleansed of all wayward thoughts, her mind began to soar towards the realm of higher truth. She sat in meditation until well after midnight, when she was disturbed by a sudden clat?tering sound on the roof. Afraid there might be burglars about, she rose from her couch and went into the front hall. Looking out, all she could see were long clouds that stretched across the sky, and the moon shining through a watery haze. It was a mild night, and she stayed there for a while, leaning over the balustrade.
Suddenly two cats started wailing to each other on the roof above her head. The words Bao-yu had spoken to her that afternoon came flashing into her mind. She felt an in?voluntary racing of the heart, her ears burned. Making a determined effort to compose herself, she went back into her meditation room and sat down again on her couch. Her efforts were in vain. Something was overpowering her. She felt ten thousand horses stampeding through her head. The couch itself seemed to start swaying, and her body seemed to leave the Hermitage. She was surrounded by handsome young noblemen, all asking for her hand in marriage. There were matchmakers hustling her towards a bridal carriage against her will. Then the scene changed again. Now she was being kidnapped. A gang of ruffians with swords and clubs was threatening her, mauling her. She started screaming for help.
By now the old nuns and lay-sisters were wide awake, and had come hurrying into the hall with candles to dis?cover the cause of the disturbance. They found her lying on the ground, with her arms outstretched, frothing at the mouth. She was woken from this apparent coma, only to fix her eyes into a rigid stare and cry out, her cheeks burn?ing a fierce crimson:
‘Buddha is my Protector! Don’t touch me, you ruffians!’
The women were too scared to do anything but call out:
‘Wake up! Wake up! We’re here now!’
‘I want to go home!’ replied Adamantina. ‘Who’ll be my friend and take me home?’
‘But this is your home!’
While the others stayed talking to her, one of the nuns was sent to pray at the shrine of the Goddess of Mercy. She shook the bamboo-box of tallies kept by the altar, and on consulting the relevant passage in the divination-book read that the Yin spirit of the south-west corner had been offended.
‘Of course!’ exclaimed one of the others, when she re?ported back. ‘The south-west corner of the Garden was originally uninhabited, so it would be sure to contain a high concentration of Yin essence.’
Some busied themselves making soup, others brought water. One of the nuns, who had come with Adaniantina from the South and was for that reason closer and more devoted to her than the others, sat next to her on the couch and put her arms protectively round her. Adaman?tina turned her head:
‘Who’s that?’
‘It’s only me.’
Adamantina looked at her curiously for a minute.
‘Oh it really is!’ she cried, and flung her arms round the nun, sobbing hysterically. ‘Oh Mother, save me, or I’m going to die!’
The nun called out to her in an attempt to bring her to her senses, and began to massage her gently. The old women brought in tea, and they sat up together till dawn when finally Adamantina dozed off. The nun sent for the doctor, and several doctors came and took her pulses. There were as many differing diagnoses as there were doc?tors. Excessive worry damaging the spleen; phlogistic in?trusion into the haematic system; offence caused to an evil spirit; a combination of internal and external chill. None of these seemed conclusive. Finally a doctor came whose first question after reading her pulses was:
‘Did the young lady practise meditation?’
The women informed him that it was a regular thing
with her.
‘And did this illness develop quite suddenly last night?’
‘Yes, it did.’
‘Indubitably a case of heat in the cardiac orb affording entrance to a vagrant evil spirit.’
‘Will she be all right?’
Luckily the meditation does not seem to have been too far advanced and the spirit was therefore not able to pene?trate too deeply. She will most probably recover.’
He wrote out a prescription for the Dephlogistication of the Cardiac Orb, after one dose of which Adamantina began to show signs of improvement.
News of her attack soon spread, and it became a sublect of gossip for the lads in town. ‘All that chastity and religion was bound to be too much for a girl of her age. Especially such an attractive, lively thing… Sooner or later she’ll get soft on some lucky fellow and run away.’
A few days later Adamantina was slightly better. But her concentration seemed to have gone and she often found herself drifting off into a dreamlike state.
The news did not reach Xi-chun for a few days. She was sitting in her room when Landscape came hurrying in.
‘Miss, have you heard what’s happened to Sister Adamantina?’
‘No – what is it?’
‘I heard Miss Xing and Mrs Zhu talking about it yester?day. Remember that day she was here playing Go? Apparently that very night she had a fit. She was talking about bandits trying to carry her away and all sorts of other strange things. She still hasn’t quite recovered. Don’t you think it’s peculiar?’
Xi-chun thought silently to herself:
‘So for all her fastidious purity, Addie’s worldly karma is still not complete. If only I had been born into a differ?ent family! If only I were free to become a nun! I would never be tempted by evil spirits. I know I would be able to subdue every unholy thought and achieve total detach?ment from the world and all its entanglements.’
With this thought she experienced a sudden sense of illumination, which she tried to express in the following g?tha:
Since at first there was no space,
Things can have no proper place.
From Void all comes;
To Void must all return.
She told a maid to light some incense, and meditated for a while. Then she took down her Go Handbook and began looking through it, studying the tactics 6f such famous Go Masters of old as Kong Rong and Wang Ji-xin. There was ‘Crab Wrapped in Lotus Leaves’, and ‘Golden Oriole Strikes Hare’; but she found neither of these very impres?sive, and ‘Corner Kill in Thirty Six Moves’ she found too hard to understand and harder still to remember. It was Dragon-chain of Ten Galloping Horses’ that really caught her fancy. She was still working it out, when she heard someone come into the courtyard and call out:
‘Landscape!’
But to know who this visitor was, you must turn to the next chapter.
