The Red Chamber (18 page)

“Really?” she says, hoping that her eagerness does not betray itself in her voice.

“Yes. She wants to buy a promotion for her oldest son.”

Xifeng knows the Countess of Xiping slightly. She had been a contemporary of Xifeng’s mother-in-law, and when Lady Xing was alive, the Countess had come to Rongguo several times for holidays or birthday
parties. Xifeng remembers her as a woman in her late thirties or forties, who insisted on wearing the rouged lips and butterfly silks of a young girl. She had given birth to a son the first year or two after her marriage, but then had not been able to conceive again until quite suddenly, nearly twenty years after her first child, she gave birth to a second son. “I see. How much does she want?”

“Two thousand
taels
.”

“For how long?”

“A month or two.”

Xifeng calculates rapidly. In a few days the rents from the Jias’ properties in the Capital will come in. Usually she uses these to pay the allowances on the first of the month, and spends the rest on food for the kitchens and other operating expenses. She can lend the rent money to the Countess, and then pay the allowances and kitchen expenses out of her own money. If she falls short, she will divert some money from one of the other accounts—for instance, the money she has been putting aside for the Two Springs’ dowries—for the time being. It will be difficult, because of all the expenses for the New Year’s celebrations coming up, but she will put off nonessential purchases.

“There is one more thing,” the Abbess continues, when Xifeng says nothing. “It has to be kept very quiet. If her husband ever got to know of it …”

Xifeng wonders why the loan must be kept secret. In her own case, she does not want Lian to know of it, because he would try to claim a share of her profit. But why wouldn’t the Countess’s husband wish to pay for their son’s promotion as well? The Countess must have spent the money meant for the promotion elsewhere, and is trying to conceal this fact from her husband. “Naturally.”

She says nothing more. She wants the Abbess to make the request for a loan directly, in order to make it perfectly clear who is asking the favor, and who is granting it.

“Well, Mrs. Lian,” the Abbess says at last. “Do you think you can help her?”

“That all depends. What about interest?”

“She is willing to pay interest, of course.”

Xifeng gives a sigh of barely suppressed impatience. “Did she suppose that she could get a loan of that size
without
interest? It’s all a matter of how much.”

“Why, how much do you want, Mrs. Lian?”

If she is going to put herself through so much risk and trouble, she had better make it worth her while. “Ten percent a month,” she says recklessly.

“Ten percent a month!” The Abbess opens her eyes wide. “That’s well above the legal rate. You could be charged for usury!”

“I thought this was a private loan, between two people,” Xifeng says coldly. “What does the law have to do with it?”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” the Abbess says hastily. “It’s just a little high.”

Xifeng shrugs. “If the Countess thinks it’s too high, she can borrow the money from someone else.” She speaks confidently, knowing that it will be difficult for the Countess to borrow that kind of money elsewhere. How many other women in the Capital can get their hands on that kind of cash on such short notice? The Countess can try to pawn some jewels, but then would risk her husband’s or servants’ discovering they were gone.

The Abbess hesitates for a few moments. Then she nods. “All right. I’ll go see the Countess and see what she says.” She looks Xifeng over, her eyes no longer twinkling. “I’ve always heard people say you were stingy, but you were so generous to the Priory I never believed it.”

Xifeng smiles, untroubled by the Abbess’s words. “I don’t see what generosity has to do with it. This is business, not charity.”

After Xifeng sees the Abbess out, she returns to her bedroom. She opens her wardrobe and shifts the piles of clothes onto the
kang
. She kneels on the ground and wedges the sharp end of a poker into the seam where the back wall meets the wardrobe floor. She jimmies up the bottom panel of the wardrobe. Beneath is a gaping black hole. She leans forward, reaching her hands into the darkness. Her fingers touch the old rice bag, the type they use to send up the harvest from the south, in which she keeps her money. She feels the hard shapes of the silver inside through the fabric, and checks her calculations: if the Countess borrows the money for just two months, Xifeng will be able to more than double her savings.

She hears Lian coming into the front room. He is yelling something about his woolen leggings: Did she remember to pack them? He calls her only when he needs something, never speaks to her for any other reason. She replaces the false panel, shoving the clothes back into the wardrobe. The last thing she wants is for him to realize that she has any money. She slams the wardrobe door, and hurries out to meet him.

Daiyu looks around her emptied room to make sure she has not left anything. As she pads in her bare feet towards the lamp, shivering in her thin underclothes, she checks her trunk, neatly packed by Snowgoose. On the edge of the
kang
lie the clothes that Xifeng has given her for the journey tomorrow. She is bending over to blow out the lamp when someone hisses her name outside the door curtain.

“Who’s there?” she calls.

“It’s Baoyu.”

So he has come to say good-bye after all. He had not come home for dinner after school, so she had resigned herself to leaving without seeing him. “What is it?”

“I came to say good-bye. Can I come in?”

“Yes.” She snatches up a gown and throws it over her shoulders.

He enters, dressed as if he has just come back from a party, wearing the “peacock gold” cape he was trying on when she first saw him. Granny must have convinced him to wear it after all. It must be snowing outside, for a few unmelted flakes glitter on the glossy black feathers.

He stands there on the threshold of the room staring at her, his breath coming quickly, as if he has hurried to get there. “I didn’t know you were going. I was at the Prince of Beijing’s party, and Tealeaf came to fetch me. He said you were leaving first thing in the morning. Why didn’t I hear anything about this?” To her amazement, he speaks in a tone of accusation. “What were you going to do? Disappear without even saying good-bye?”

Confused by his anger, she feels her color rising. “I only got the letter from my father today.”

“What did it say?” He notices the traveling cloak on the
kang
. He picks it up, looks at it, and then flings it away. She has never seen him in this kind of mood before.

“Only that he’s sick, and that I must come home at once.” At her own words, fear for her father floods over her. She huddles her arms around her chest and shivers.

“You’re cold. Get under the covers.”

Shs shakes her head. She cannot get into bed with him in the room.

“Holy name, forget propriety!” he says impatiently. “It’s not going to help matters if you catch cold.”

After hesitating a moment, she eases off her robe and slides her legs
under the covers. She sits on her pillow with her knees up to her chin, and her quilt tucked up to her neck.

Baoyu unfastens his cloak and lays it on a chair. Underneath, he is even more gorgeous, in a narrow-sleeved robe of crimson damask with a sash of elaborately braided and knotted colored silks. He sits down on the
kang
beside her bed. She lets herself stay close to him, not forcing herself to draw away. She feels herself glowing with the happiness of his presence, of being alone with him one last time—only she is put off by his abruptness, so unlike his usual suavity. She catches the scent of wine on his breath.

“I was looking forward to spending my New Year’s vacation with you,” he says, in the same tone as before. “Granny hires an opera troupe, and they set up a stage. There’s a banquet in the pavilion, and we guess lantern riddles in the moonlight …”

She has the impression that this is not really what he means to say to her. “Well, perhaps you can use your vacation to study, so you can be sure to pass the Exams in the spring—”

He interrupts her. “Don’t go spoiling our last minutes together with that kind of drivel.”

She shuts her mouth, offended.

He bursts out, “I’m not going to let you go!”

He speaks so passionately that she wonders whether he has drunk too much.

He can read her expression. “I’m not drunk. I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”

Her heart gives a quick, happy flutter, and yet, deeper down, in her belly, there is a movement of fear. Does he speak thoughtlessly, or does he understand the import of his words? She says, as coolly as she can, “Who knows what will happen? I may come to visit again in a few years. Or perhaps you will travel down to your family’s estates in the south.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “In a year or two, you’ll be married. Who knows where you’ll be, or whether your husband will let you come see us.”

“How do you know I’ll be married?” she objects. “My parents always said they weren’t in any hurry to let me go. I don’t think I’ll be betrothed until I’m at least twenty. You will probably be married before I am.”

“I’ll ask Granny to betroth me to you,” he says.

She feels a rush of anger. He is just being flippant after all. “You shouldn’t joke about something like that.”

“I’m not joking.”

Is he just pretending not to understand the gap between them? Is he just teasing her to see how she will react? “Don’t be ridiculous. You know you’re going to marry someone rich and well-connected—”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“Granny and Uncle Zheng will care for you.”

Suddenly he puts his arms around her and pulls her against him. His hands are warm on her bare arms, and she feels his breath ruffling her hair. “Kiss me.”

She shakes her head, trying to pull away, but he only draws her closer. “Kiss me,” he says. “We may never see each other again.” She is frightened and embarrassed, yet she feels a queer excitement at his touch. He puts his hand on her chin and pushes it up gently to make her look at him, but she resists. He leans down to her, and she feels his lips on her hairline, on her eyelids. Beneath the soap and shampoo, she catches the odor of his body, with its undertones of animal sweat. It draws her to him, making her want to bury her face in his shoulder. She feels the quickness of his breath, his hands slick with sweat, and understands that he is nervous, too. She stops resisting. His lips move across her cheeks, closer and closer to her lips. She is excited by the roughness of his stubble. On his breath there is the slight scent of wine, but stronger than that is the familiar, comforting scent of rice. Stroking her hair, he kisses her mouth now, his lips firm and warm.

“Daiyu!” Baochai’s voice comes from outside the door curtain.

She and Baoyu jerk apart. He scrambles off the
kang
.

“I thought I heard voices, and came to see why you hadn’t gone to bed yet,” Baochai says. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Daiyu drags on her robe, uncomfortably aware of her disheveled hair and flushed face.

Baochai comes in fully dressed. She must have heard Baoyu’s voice from out in the hallway, yet she stands there looking at him as though surprised by his presence.

Daiyu rushes into an explanation. “Baoyu just came to say good-bye—”

Baochai cuts her off. “It’s so late, and you have a long journey ahead of you. Don’t you think you’d better get to bed? I came over to see if anything was wrong, whether you’d forgotten something.”

“No, everything is fine.”

“Then, come on. Let me braid your hair so it won’t be tangled in the morning.” She climbs on the
kang
and kneels behind Daiyu. Before she touches Daiyu’s hair, she looks at Baoyu and waits.

Daiyu looks at him, too, her body still throbbing from the way he had touched her. Barely daring to glance at her, he says, “Good-bye. Have a safe trip.”

“Good-bye,” she says, and then he is gone.

She feels Baochai’s fingers gently separating and plaiting her hair. “This way,” Baochai says, “you won’t even have to comb it in the morning. You won’t have much time to get ready. You’re supposed to be at the dock by dawn. I was afraid that you were too worried to sleep. Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes,” she says, although she feels wide awake.

“I’ll blow out the light.” Baochai rises and goes towards the lamp. Halfway there, she turns back. “Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep with you? That way, if you get scared in the night …”

Daiyu is surprised by the offer. With her natural reserve, it is unlike Baochai to foist her company on someone. Daiyu wants nothing more than to run after Baoyu, but she feels that she can’t refuse. “Yes, thank you. That’s very nice of you.”

Baochai smiles, and then blows out the lamp. In the darkness, Daiyu hears her removing her robe. Daiyu moves over to make room for her. Baochai slips under the covers without touching Daiyu. She reaches over, gives Daiyu’s hand a quick squeeze, then withdraws her hand, and turns on her side.