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MASTER HU ACCEPTS A PLEDGE AND OBTAINS A FAIRY’S PORTRAIT;

MISTRESS ZHANG BURNS A PICTURE AND BEARS A DAUGHTER.

POEM:

If the ruler’s up early, his court is, too—

In the hour before dawn they convene;

But for many of the capital’s richest men

The morning star is a sight unseen.

Let us tell how in the time of Emperor Renzong of the great Song dynasty, the Eastern Capital, the city of Bianzhou in Kaifeng prefecture, glowed like a brilliant tapestry. Thirty-six imperial highways did it boast, as well as twenty-eight city gates, thirty-six lanes of brothels, and seventy-two music halls, and any idle space in the city was given over to flower gardens or football fields. Let us put aside the powerful officials in the capital and speak instead of the many merchants of varying degrees of wealth. There was Master Wang of the dye works, Master Li the pearl merchant, Master Zhang the merchant adventurer, Master Jiao of the colored silks—the list goes on and on. Among them was one man so rich that “his stack of money rose higher than the stars, and his rice was so abundant that it rotted in his granaries.” He had three pawnshops in front of his house, the one on the left taking in silks and satins; the one on the right gold, silver, pearls, and kingfisher feathers; and the one in the center musical instruments, calligraphy, paintings, and antiques. Each pawnshop was staffed by a manager and three assistants. This merchant was named Hu Hao, style Dahong, and he had a wife, Mistress Zhang, but no children. “Of eyes he had a pair, but of children not a one.”

One day he and his wife were taking their ease in their hall when a sudden thought occurred to him and he began to weep. Noticing his tears, his wife rose to her feet. “Master,” she said, “you have all that you need in life—you lack for nothing—and you enjoy many luxuries as well. You may not compare with the richest in the land, but you’re far better off than the poorest. Why are you so upset?”

“This has nothing to do with either necessities or luxuries. I do own some property, it’s true, but we have no children. When the time comes, who can we depend on to see to our last rites? That’s what makes me sad.”

“But we’re not old, and who’s to say we can’t still have a baby? Perhaps we’re destined to have one later in life. I’ve heard that in the Precious Amulet Temple the Veritable Helpful and Saintly Master of the Polestar is wonderfully effective.1 Why don’t we choose an auspicious day to go over there, burn some paper money, and pray for a child? Even if it’s a girl, we’ll at least have someone to tend our graves.” She gave orders to the maidservants: “Set out the wine. The master and I are going to cheer ourselves up.” They drank several cups together before clearing away the wine things and going to bed.

An auspicious date came along several days later. Master Hu told a servant to buy some incense and paper money and arrange for a sedan chair. Then, with their servants in attendance, he and his wife set off for the temple, where they alighted and walked inside. In the main hall they burned incense and then, needless to say, did the same in the other halls and porticoes. At the Zhenwu Hall,2 Master Hu prayed most devoutly, giving the date of his birth and praying to the god for a child to continue the family line. He bowed down “like a tower toppling, a pillar falling,” clicking his teeth3 as he kowtowed. His wife bowed too, bobbing up and downlike a supplicant holding a candle in a candlestick. They prayed and burned paper money again before departing for home, which is where we shall leave them.

For about a year after that, on the first and fifteenth of every month, they returned to the temple to burn incense and pray for a son. One day in the fifth month, when the weather was turning hot, the door curtain in the central pawnshop rose and in walked a Daoist priest. How was he dressed?

He wore an iron-frame Daoist cap of fishtail shape

And a black-bordered, fiery red gown;

In his left hand he held a bramble basket,

In his right a turtle-shell fan;

Puttees he wore around his legs

And hempen shoes with grommets.

Now, a Daoist immortal has four remarkable qualities:

He travels like the wind;

He stands still as a pine;

He lies bent like a bow;

His voice sounds like a bell.

Raising the door curtain, the priest entered the pawnshop. He glanced at one of the assistants, who noticed his venerable appearance and quickly rose and welcomed him in, then bowed and sat down with him and ordered tea. When they had drunk it, he said, “Well, sir, and what instructions do you have for us?”

“This is the pawnshop that deals in musical instruments, calligraphy, and paintings, is it not?”

“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

“In that case I have a small painting that I’d like to pawn. I’ll come back later to redeem it.”

“Kindly show it to me, sir, so that I can estimate its value.” The assistant assumed that the priest would have a servant with him to carry the painting, but the man reached into his basket and brought out a painting that was less than a foot wide and handed it to him. The assistant took it and said nothing, but he wondered to himself, could this priest be making fun of me? At most this painting can’t be worth very much. But of course the assistant had to take the picture pole and hang the painting up, only to find that it was less than five feet long. He looked at it close-up, and he looked at it from a distance; it was a painting of a beautiful woman, but although well executed, it was too small to be of much value.

The assistant turned back to face the priest. “And how much money did you hope to raise on it, sir?”

“It’s no ordinary work, you know. I’d want fifty taels for it.”

“But sir! I’m afraid we can’t give you that much. A small painting like this is worth only from thirty to fifty strings of cash. How could we give you fifty taels?”

The priest kept insisting, however, and the assistant continued to refuse. In the midst of the argument, footsteps sounded outside the door, the curtain rose, and the master came in from his private quarters. “Have you burned the noon incense today?” he asked the assistant.

“Yes, sir, I have.”

The priest looked at the master and said, “Master, I bow my head in greeting.”

“Please take a seat, sir, and have some tea,” said the master, returning the greeting. He assumed that the priest had come to solicit alms.

“The reverend gentleman has a small painting that he would like to pawn for fifty taels,” explained the assistant. “I couldn’t see my way to accepting it, but he keeps on insisting.”

The master took a look at it. “It’s a good painting, my dear sir, but it’s not worth very much. How can we offer you fifty taels on it?”

“But Master! You don’t know everything about this picture. It may be small, but it has a certain marvelous quality.”

“And what might that be?”

“This is hardly the place to talk. Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll explain to you.”

The master took the priest by the hand and led him into the study, where they were alone. “Well, and what is this marvelous quality it possesses?”

“Don’t let anyone see you as you do this, but in the dead of night take that painting and hang it up in some very private place. Burn some fine incense, light two candles, cough once, knock three times on the table, and then in a reverent tone of voice invite the divine maiden to step forth from the picture and take tea with you. There’ll be a sudden gust of wind, and she’ll step down.”

If that’s the case, this must be a divine painting, thought Master Hu. As he left the study with the priest, he told the assistant, “Give the reverend gentleman the full amount that he asked for.”

“Then don’t blame me if he never comes back to redeem it!” said the assistant.

“That’s not your concern. Just enter it in the account book.” He invited the priest to tea, at the same time slipping the painting into his sleeve. He then took his guest into his private quarters and, after a vegetarian meal, saw him out to the shop again. The assistant paid him the fifty taels, and the priest took his leave.

The master could hardly wait until evening. He told a servant to sweep out the study and set up a censer, candlesticks, a teapoy, a kettle of water, and the like. When evening arrived at last, he had dinner with his wife, and then came up with a plausible excuse. “You go off to bed now, my dear,” he said. “I have some accounts I need to check. I’ll be along in a little while, once I’m done.” Then, before he knew it, the drums sounded from the watchtowers and the bells from the temples, and quickly it grew dark.

Over the ten parts of the earth there falls a sudden pitch-black pall;

In the nine margins of the sky stars move amid the clouds;

From all eight directions merchants head for inns to lay down their loads;

The seven stars of the Dipper appear above and beside Heaven’s Gate;4

In the green5 willows’ shade small boats tie up on weed-covered shores;

By the five planets’ light animals are driven into their pens;

In all four quarters brightness illumines the world for a hundred miles;

The three marketplaces6 fill with cool night air;

Two by two husbands and wives retire to their chambers;

And one circle of vivid whiteness shines all over the land.

Master Hu walked to the study, pushed open the door, which was fitted with a window, and went in, telling the servants to wait outside. Then, turning around, he shut the door and lit the lamp. The kettle on the wall stove was boiling vigorously. He lit a stick of incense and the two candles, then used the picture pole to hang the painting on the wall. It was indeed of an enchanting beauty, one so realistic that she looked as if she could be plucked right out of that painting. The master gave a cough and knocked three times on the table. A slight gust of wind sprang up. What was it like, that wind?

It could push the courtyard plants together—

Or part the duckweed in the river;

Kindhearted when it moves the curtains,

Heartless when it extinguishes the candle.

From the temples it brings forth a peal of bells;

From the towers it sends out a roll of drums.

All you hear is its roar among the trees,

For it shows no trace of visible form.7

Once the wind had passed by, the beauty in the picture, in plain sight, jumped down onto the table and from there onto the floor. She stood five feet three inches tall and was as pretty as a flower, with pure-white skin and jet-black hair. But what was so beautiful about her?

One inch more, and she’d be too tall;

One inch less, and she’d be too short;

One touch of rouge, and she’d be too red;

One dab of powder, and she’d be too white.

Without powder or rouge, a natural look

Such that no artist could ever convey.

A face to make fish dive and birds drop,

And put moon and flowers to shame.

She glanced at the master and gave a deep curtsy, and he was quick to bow in return. He poured a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove and handed it to her, then poured a cup for himself, and they sat there drinking together. When they had finished, he returned the cups and saucers to the teapoy. He had still not said a word when there came a sudden gust of wind, and she returned to the picture. The master was thrilled. He quickly put away the painting and called the servants in to tidy up, then returned to his bedroom, where we shall leave him.

Following this incident he spent every evening in his study checking his accounts.

For her part, Mistress Zhang began to wonder. For half a month now, she thought, the master has been spending every evening checking his accounts, and I simply don’t believe he has so many accounts that need to be checked. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she told a maid to bring a lantern and lead the way to the study. As she listened outside the room, she fancied that she could hear a woman’s or a girl’s voice inside. Tiptoeing up to the door, she moistened her little finger with spit and pressed it gently against the paper windowpane to make a peephole. As she peered through it, she saw a woman sitting down chatting with her husband. Twin columns of fury surged from the soles of Mistress Zhang’s feet to the crown of her head, while the irrepressible rage in her heart flared up into the sky. Stretching out a hand, she pushed open the door and charged in.

Startled, the master scrambled to his feet. “My dear, what are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” she raged, beside herself with anger. “You old beggar, you! You old fool! A fine thing you’ve been up to! Utterly shameless! Every evening for over half a month now, you said you were going to check your accounts, and all the time you were in here doing these disgraceful things!” In the midst of her tirade the divine woman returned to the painting in a sudden puff of wind. Fuming with anger, Mistress Zhang called out to the maid, “Come in here and find her for me!” “Don’t you worry!” she added to the master.8

The master said nothing, but to himself he thought, even if you turn the study upside down, you’ll never find her.

Failing to find the woman and seething with anger, his wife suddenly raised her head and, looking around, noticed the painting of a beautiful woman on the wall. She tore it down and set fire to it by holding it against the lamp, then flung it onto the floor. Because of the state she was in, the master did not dare to try and wrest it away from her. By now the painting was ablaze, and the ashes swirled around on the floor and then swirled up beside his wife’s feet. She took a step or two backward, fearful that her clothes would catch fire, and the ashes spurted into her mouth, at which she gave a loud scream and collapsed on the floor. Panic-stricken, the master called on the maids to help her up, sit her on a chair, and pour hot water from the kettle down her throat. They helped her up and sat her on a chair. “A fine thing you’ve been up to, you old fool!” she said. Then she turned to the maids. “Help me to the bedroom. I need to rest.” She slept until about midnight, when she began to feel unwell. From that point on, she became listless and distracted, her breasts swelled up, and her belly rose—she was pregnant! Master Hu was thrilled. There was just one thing that troubled him: now that his wife had burned the picture, how was he going to return it to the priest when he came back to redeem it?

Time sped by like an arrow, and after a year his wife was about to give birth. The master went before the spirit tablets in the ancestral shrine, burned some incense, and was in the act of making a pledge to the gods when he heard a sudden commotion outside the door. A servant came in and reported, “That priest who pawned a painting with us is back again!” Although this news almost gave the master heart failure, he had no choice but to go out and greet his visitor.

“Well, sir, it’s been a year since we last met,” he began. “I hardly dare mention it, but we are blessed with your visit on the very day my wife is due to give birth.”

The priest burst out laughing. “I have some medicine here, in case there are any complications.” He picked up a gourd from his basket and tipped out a red pill that he gave to the master, explaining that if his wife took it together with a drink of pure water, she would immediately give birth. The master accepted the medicine and asked him to stay on for a vegetarian meal. Afterward the priest left, without saying anything about redeeming the picture.

Let us leave the priest and tell instead how the master gave the pill to his wife, and how soon after, to his great delight, she gave birth to a baby girl. The midwife took charge of the baby, which, we need hardly say, passed through the successive stages of Third Day, First Month, Long Life, First Year, and Name Bestowal. Because the ashes had twisted and turned as they rose up and led to the pregnancy, they named the girl Eterna.

Time sped by like an arrow, and soon Eterna was six. The master asked a tutor to come in and teach her to read and write. She proved to have a quick intelligence, and once something had been taught to her, she was able to remember it. She grew and grew, and soon she was nine. On the evening of the fifteenth of the eighth month, Master Hu gave the managers and assistants of his pawnshops time off to celebrate the Midautumn Festival at home. He told his servants to secure all the gates and take great care with the candles and lamps. That evening there was a brilliant full moon:

The cassia flower9 rises from mountains and sea;

Clouds bestrew the highway of heaven.

A vivid radiance shines like silver for a thousand miles;

The Jade Hare’s10 brilliance turns endless hills to water.

Sheer whiteness in a single circle

Divides the cosmos with vivid clarity;

Reunion throughout the four seas11

Makes heaven and earth manifest.

The moon’s shadows quiver in the wilds,

Startling the crow that nests alone.

Its light, streaming in through the secluded window,

Shines on the spinster in her lonely bed.

The icy wheel rolls on, crushing the myriad worlds;12

The Jade Spirit13 devours a thousand miles of autumn.

This night the orb is full;

There’s brightness over all.

Master Hu, his wife, and Eterna, attended by the nurse and their servants, enjoyed the festival in the Eight-Sided Pavilion in the back garden and celebrated the moonlight with wine. But because of what happened on that night, certain consequences followed: Master Hu was left in desperate poverty, and he and his family almost starved to death.

Blessings have always come singly;

Troubles, we are told, come in pairs.

But what troubles were they? Turn to the next chapter to find out.