The Red Chamber (40 page)

Trying not to look at the Xues, she forces herself to continue. “There
was another charge as well. Uncle and Baoyu were also convicted for obstruction of justice.”

“Obstruction of justice?” Lady Jia exclaims, bewildered.

“It seems that Uncle Zheng intervened in a murder case against Xue Pan.”

“A murder case! What are you talking about?” Lady Jia turns to Mrs. Xue, who bursts into tears.

“Yes, it’s true. Pan killed someone last year in a fight, and his family charged Pan with murder. I asked Zheng to speak to the district magistrate about it, and the charges were dropped. Zheng never said anything because he knew it would embarrass us.” She kneels on the ground before Granny, kowtowing. “It never crossed my mind that you would be punished for Zheng’s kindness.”

Baochai’s expression does not change, but her face flushes an unflattering beet-red, and her small eyes look down on the ground. She kneels beside her mother. “We would never have asked Uncle’s help if we had thought it would injure you, after all your kindness to us.”

For several moments there is no sound but Mrs. Xue’s sobs. At last Lady Jia says, “That’s all right.” Despite the seeming generosity of her words, her face is expressionless, her voice dry. “We’re such close kinsmen. You’ve lived with us for more than three years.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Xue stammers. “We are closer than ordinary kinsmen.”

“If we don’t stand by each other in times of trouble, then who will?” Lady Jia says.

“We will try to be worthy of your kindness to us.” There is silence as Mrs. Xue and Baochai climb up from the floor.

Xifeng forces herself to break it. “There was one more charge.” All the way home she had debated whether to tell the others about the usury charge. She could have lied about Lian’s sentence. She could imagine their not finding out the truth for years; but she cannot bear the idea of living with such a secret over her head, one that might be discovered and revealed at her weakest moment.

“What is it?” Lady Jia says. “I know that they found those bolts of Palace Use silks in my room. Were we charged with possession of contraband?”

“No!” Forcing herself to get the words out, she speaks jerkily, “Lian was sentenced to two years for usury.”

“Usury!” Granny looks dumbfounded. “He was making loans? To whom?”

She turns on Xifeng. “How could you let him? Why didn’t you—” She stops, realizing the truth. “
He
didn’t make the loans, did he?” She struggles to her feet, her face distorted by rage. “How dared you? After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay our kindness.”

She had decided on the way home that the best strategy would be to admit her fault, but she feels choked by injustice, and retorts, “We were spending too much. I was worried we’d have money troubles later. I didn’t think it was wrong to make some money on my own.”

“You dare to defend yourself after disgracing the family like this? You should be begging my forgiveness. Look at what your selfishness and greed has brought upon the family.”

“I didn’t bring this on the family! The loans wouldn’t have been discovered if not for the confiscation, which was Uncle Zheng’s fault. And if the Embroidered Jackets hadn’t found it, the money I made would be supporting us right now, and you would be grateful to me!” She doesn’t know what has gotten into her, why she can’t be silent and meek. Somehow she is not as afraid of Granny as she used to be. Torn loose from her home, servants, and money, Lady Jia is nothing but a querulous old woman who retains power because the rest of them are weak enough to obey her. “Why was it so wrong to try to make some money of my own? The men in this family know only how to spend money, not to make it. And look at you! We all saw how much money and jewels the Embroidered Jackets found in your room during the confiscation! How did you get all of that, except by—”

Granny steps forward and strikes her on the face with the force of her whole arm. She does not move, shocked and humiliated by the blow.

“Don’t say another word! You commit a crime for which poor Lian, for which the whole family, has to pay. And instead of begging forgiveness, which you don’t deserve, you dare to try to justify yourself.”

Xifeng puts her hand to her burning cheek. She lowers her eyes, not to hide tears, but to hide her anger. She turns and goes into the back bedroom.

2

To Baochai’s relief, Jingui does not keep her waiting for more than a few minutes before having her ushered into the Inner Quarters. To her amazement, she finds her sister-in-law deep in conversation with a strange young man on the
kang
.

“Oh, this is my adopted brother, Xia San,” Jingui says, in response to Baochai’s shocked look. He is a flashily dressed young man, Jingui’s age or a little older.

“I didn’t know that you had an adopted brother,” Baochai says, trying to keep a tone of reproof out of her voice. It is wrong for Jingui to be entertaining men during Pan’s absence.

“My mother adopted him this spring. He’s come up to the Capital on business.” Jingui turns to Xia San with a tinkling little laugh. “Why don’t you go amuse yourself somewhere? My sister-in-law isn’t used to much company.”

After Xia San leaves, Jingui waves to Baochai to take his place on the cushion next to her. Surprised at this gesture of friendliness, Baochai climbs onto the
kang
. Seating herself beside Jingui, she is more than ever aware of the disparity between their appearances. Jingui is exquisitely dressed in a sable-lined red vest and yellow brocade gown. Baochai wears the same gown that she had been wearing the day of the confiscation, a lavender-sprigged brocade whose pale color shows the smudges of dirt around the wrists. Over it, she wears a bulky padded jacket, which she had made herself when the weather began to grow cold. Even her hairpins have been given to Xifeng to pawn. The only jewelry she wears is her gold pendant. Xifeng had refused to take it, insisting that it was as much a part of Baochai as the jade was part of Baoyu. Now she is pleasantly aware of its weight beneath her gown.

“My mother would have come,” she says, “but she wasn’t feeling well. She sends you her regards. Have you heard from Pan lately?”

“No, I haven’t. Tell me, how are the Jias doing?” Jingui’s face is alive with malicious curiosity.

Prompted by Jingui’s questions, Baochai repeats the charges and sentences
against Uncle Zheng. Despite Jingui’s exclamations of surprise, Baochai has the strange impression that she has heard them already.

“What about Baoyu?” Jingui asks.

Managing to keep her composure, Baochai tells Jingui that Baoyu will be in prison for five years.

“Good Heavens! You can’t wait that long. Why don’t you break the betrothal?”

Baochai looks down, feeling her face flush. “I’m not sure we can. After all, the dowry has already been paid, and we certainly can’t expect to get it back at this point.”

“Yes, that’s true. Besides, it’s not as if you could make much of a new match at this point. Everyone knows that you’ve been living with the Jias for years. For you to break things off with Baoyu now would only make you look bad.”

What Jingui says is true, but Baochai cannot bring herself to tell the real reason that she cannot break the betrothal: Uncle Zheng and Baoyu had been convicted of obstruction of justice for helping Pan. How can she and her mother abandon the Jias after the risks Uncle Zheng had taken, the sentences he and Baoyu must serve? She herself had urged her mother to ask the Jias’ help. How could she have known how the favor would bind the families together? And buried deep in her heart is another reason for not breaking the betrothal. On the day of the confiscation, when the men were being dragged off by the Embroidered Jackets, she had at first turned away, thinking that the sight would be too painful. Then she saw Baoyu with his arm protectively around Uncle Zheng, his face full of concern for his father. He looked so noble, so handsome, that her heart started to beat wildly, and she had actually cried his name and run a few steps after him. In that moment, Daiyu, and his affair with her, faded from her mind.

“And what about the Jia women?” Jingui asks. “Where are they living now?”

“At first, they lived with Cousin Rong, but there wasn’t room, and Lady Jia didn’t get along with Cousin Rong’s mother. So they moved into a little apartment on Drum Street, south of Rongguo. Actually,” Baochai forces herself to continue, “that was one of the reasons that I came today, to ask you whether my mother and I might come here to stay with you.” She does not relish the idea of living with Jingui, but the conditions in Drum Street, with eight people, including a fussy, coughing baby, sleeping in one room, are nearly intolerable.

“Here?” Jingui says. Now that she has wormed all the information she wants out of Baochai, she is markedly less cordial. “I’m afraid that really wouldn’t be convenient.”

“We wouldn’t be any trouble. We don’t need much room.”

“It’s out of the question.”

“Surely Pan would want you to let us live here.”

Jingui gives a little shrug, clearly expressing her indifference to Pan’s opinion.

Baochai had expected Jingui to refuse, and hoped that she would be more likely to accede to the next request, having already refused one. “If it isn’t possible for us to live here, then, would it be possible for you to give us a loan?” she says. Determined to make the jewelry last as long as possible, Xifeng is extremely stingy about buying even such necessities as food and clothing.

“Pan took almost all our cash down south to buy merchandise. I’m afraid we haven’t any to spare.”

“Even something like thirty or forty
taels
would be extremely useful.”

Jingui shakes her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Baochai has never known anyone like her sister-in-law, who seems to feel no compunction about refusing all requests, feeling no need to even offer an excuse. She makes her final request. “Well, at least can you send a messenger to Pan down south?”

“Whatever for?”

“He doesn’t know anything about what has happened to the Jias. Perhaps he should come back and see if he can help pull some strings on their behalf.”

Jingui frowns. “I don’t want him getting involved in any of this.”

“But Uncle Zheng was charged with obstruction of justice only because he helped Pan in the first place. It’s not right for him to sit by doing nothing—”

“I don’t know anything about that, and I don’t want to,” Jingui snaps.

“Even if you don’t, what is there to stop Uncle Zheng from drawing Pan into this mess? He can say that Pan put pressure on him to intervene, and perhaps they’ll reopen Pan’s case, too.”

Baochai knows Uncle Zheng well enough to believe that he will in fact do everything he can to protect Pan, but she can see that Jingui is frightened.

After thinking a moment, frowning, she says, “Very well, I’ll send a messenger to Pan.”

“When?”

“Xia San is going back to Nanjing next week. I’ll have him carry a message.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

With that, Baochai must be satisfied.

3

Xifeng wakes up in the cold autumn dawn, disturbed by Qiaojie’s coughing. In the light from the smudged paper panes, she turns to look at the baby beside her on the
kang
. Qiaojie coughs a little more, her face reddening from the exertion, and then settles back into sleep, her tiny hands clenching into fists above her blankets. On Qiaojie’s other side, Ping’er is still sleeping soundly. Xifeng hears Tanchun’s high, whistling snore from farther down the
kang
, but it is Granny’s deeper rumble that keeps her awake. She rolls onto her back, careful not to nudge Qiaojie, only inches away, and lies looking at the water stains on the ceiling. All eight of them sleep squeezed onto the
kang
in the back room, in order to save coal by not heating the front room at night. She thinks of the days before the confiscation when she had reckoned coal by the wagonload.

Qiaojie coughs again, harder this time. She turns and sees Ping’er patting Qiaojie’s back so she will go back to sleep.

“Do you think her cough is getting any better?” Ping’er whispers.

Xifeng raises herself on her elbow and leans her head so that Qiaojie’s breath ruffles the hair beside her ears. She hears it, the faint liquid rattle deep in her chest. “I don’t think so.”

“The loquat syrup isn’t doing any good.”

“Should we try bird’s nests?”

“I think we need to get another doctor. I don’t trust the last one.”

“I didn’t think much of him either.” Dr. Lu was a local practitioner recommended by Cousin Rong’s mother. “Who should we get?”

“Can’t we get the one who used to come before the confiscation?”

“Dr. Wang from the Imperial College? He’s probably one of the most expensive doctors in the city.”

“But he’s good. Remember how he cured Baoyu of that terrible case of bronchitis?”

“We could try another one that isn’t so expensive.”

“But what if he isn’t any good? Then we’ll just have wasted our time and money. Besides, it’s getting cold. It’ll be better if Qiaojie is over her cough before winter comes.”

Xifeng hesitates. She knows they must be careful with money, but how can she deny Qiaojie the best doctor?

Qiaojie stirs in her sleep and starts to whimper. The room is now bright, and around them, the others are stirring and reluctantly preparing to get out of bed. Granny Jia calls for someone to help her. Instead of obeying her summons, Xifeng lets Baochai take her place. She helps Ping’er sit up, and puts the baby to her breast. “I’ll go to Dr. Wang today and ask him to come,” she says.