The Red Pavilion

XIII

Ma Joong went to the shopping centre and rented one of the small sedan chairs waiting there, with four bearers. He paid them in advance and added a generous tip. They trotted cheerfully behind him as he walked to the back door of the dormitory. Silver Fairy stood waiting with Miss Ling in the yard.

The girl helped Miss Ling inside, then stared disconsolately after the sedan chair till it had disappeared round the corner. Seeing her sad look, Ma Joong said with an awkward grin:

'Cheer up, dear! You needn't worry about anything, you can leave all your problems safely to my boss. That's what I always do!'

'You would!' she snapped. She went inside, slamming the door shut in his face.

Ma Joong scratched his head. Perhaps she had a point there. He strolled to the main street, in a pensive mood.

When he saw over the heads of the crowd the impressive gatehouse of the brothel guild's office, he halted in his steps. For a while he watched the stream of busy people going in and out there, then sauntered on again. He was deep in thought, trying to reach a weighty decision. Suddenly he went back on his tracks, walked to the office and elbowed his way inside.

Scores of sweating men were crowding in front of the long counter, waving slips of red paper at the row of clerks, and shouting at the top of their voices. Those men were the touts and runners of the restaurants and tea houses, the red slips bore the names of the courtesans or prostitutes wanted by the guests in their respective establishments. As soon as one of them had succeeded in handing his slip to a clerk, the latter would thumb one of the ledgers in front of him. If the woman was free, he would enter the time and the name of the house in his ledger, then stamp the slip and hand it to one of the errand boys loitering by the door. The boy would deliver the slip to the dormitory where the woman lived, and in due time she would proceed to where she was wanted.

Ma Joong pushed the watchman guarding the wicket at the end of the counter unceremoniously aside. He went straight on to the back of the office, where the head clerk sat throned behind his large desk. He was an enormously fat man, with a round, smooth face. He looked haughtily at Ma Joong with lazy, heavy-lidded eyes.

Ma Joong pulled his official pass from his boot and threw it on the desk. After the fat man had studied the document care­fully, he looked up with a smile and asked politely: 'What can I do for you, Mr Ma?'

'Help me with a simple business transaction, that's what you can do. I want to redeem a courtesan of the second rank, called Silver Fairy.'

The fat man pursed his lips. He gave Ma Joong an apprais­ing look, then took a bulky ledger from his drawer. He leafed it through till he found the entry he wanted, and slowly read it. He cleared his throat importantly and said:

'We bought her cheap, one and a half gold bars. But she is a popular girl, and a good singer too. We gave her expensive dresses, the bills are all here. They add up to . . .' He groped for his abacus.

'Cut the cackle! You spent a good deal of money on her, and she brought in fifty times more than that, so I'll pay you the original price, and cash too.'

He took the package with the two gold bars he had inherited from his uncle Peng from his bosom, removed the wrappers and laid them on the desk.

The fat man stared at the two shining bars, slowly rubbing his double chin. He sadly reflected that he couldn't afford to antagonize an officer of the tribunal, the big boss Feng wouldn't like that. It was a great pity though, this rascal seemed eager enough. If he had been an outsider, he would doubtless have been willing to pay double the amount, and a generous tip. This was one of those unlucky days, his heart­burn was worse too. He belched, then, with a deep sigh, de­tached a sheaf of sealed receipts from the register and handed them to Ma Joong. Then he laboriously counted out the change, twenty silver pieces. He lingered fondly over the last one.

'Wrap them up nicely—all of them!' the tall man ordered.

The clerk gave him a pained look. Slowly he wrapped up the silver in a piece of red paper.

Ma Joong put the package and the papers in his sleeve, and went out.

He thought he had made the right decision. There came a time when a man had to settle down, and what woman could one settle down with better than with a wench from one's own village? He could easily raise a family on the salary Judge Dee paid him, that was better than spending it all on wine and stray girls, as had been his wont. The only snag was that his colleagues Chiao Tai and Tao Gan would tease him no end. 'Well, let them! When those rascals had seen his girl, they would shut up quickly enough!'

While he was rounding the corner of the street of the Hostel of Eternal Bliss, he saw the inviting red shop-sign of a wine house. He decided to offer himself a drink.

But when he had pulled the door-curtain aside, he saw that the noisy taproom was packed already with happy drinkers. There was only one empty place left, at the table in front of the window, where a melancholy-looking young man was sitting, staring moodily at an empty wine jug.

Ma Joong pushed his way among the tables and asked:

'Do you mind if I sit down here, Mr Kia?'

The youngster's face lit up.

'With pleasure!' Then his face fell again as he added: 'Sorry I can't offer you anything, my last coppers went with this last jug. Old Feng hasn't coughed up his promised loan yet.'

He spoke with a thick tongue. Ma Joong thought that the last jug must have been the last one of an impressive row. He said jovially:

'Share a jug with me!' He called a waiter and ordered a large jug. He paid for it, and filled their beakers.

'Here's to our luck!' He emptied his beaker in one long draught, and hastily refilled it. The poet followed his example, then said morosely:

'Thank you! I most certainly need luck!'

'You? Holy Heaven, man, you, the future son-in-law of Feng? Marrying the only daughter of the gambling boss—if that isn't the niftiest trick I have ever heard of for getting back your money from the tables!'

'That's just it! That's precisely why I need luck, baskets full of it, so as to get out of my troubles. And it's that swine Wen who landed me in this awful mess!'

'I still don't get what your troubles could be. But Wen is a son of a dog. I am with you there!'

Kia gave him a long look from his watery eyes. Then he said:

'Since the Academician is dead and gone, and the plan off, there's no harm in telling you, I suppose. Well, to cut a long story short, when I lost my money at that crooked table, that stuck-up Academician was sitting opposite me. Sanctimonious bastard said I played a reckless game! Afterwards he accosted me and asked whether I would like to get my money back, by earning it. I said, of course, yes, even if I would have to earn it. Then he took me to Wen's shop. They were concocting to­gether some plot or other, against Feng Dai. Wen would get Feng into trouble, then Lee would use his influence in the capital to have Feng replaced by Wen as warden of this island. Lee wouldn't get any poorer by that, of course. That's high officials for you! Lee and Wen said they wanted me to worm myself into Feng's confidence, and act as their spy in Feng's mansion. I would have to conceal a small box in Feng's house, and that was all.'

'The dirty crooks! And you said yes, you fool?' 'No need to call me names, my man ! Would you like to be marooned here on this island without a copper in your sleeve? Besides, I didn't know Feng, supposed he was as big a crook as the others, of course. And don't interrupt me, it's hard enough to keep to the thread of my sad narrative. By the way, didn't I hear you mention the word sharing in connection with this jug?' Ma Joong poured him out another beaker. The young poet drank greedily, and went on: 'All right, Lee said that I must go to see Feng and ask him for a loan, to be repaid after I had passed my examinations. It seems that Feng has a weak spot for young, talented poets in distress.

'So far so good. But when I went to see Feng I found him a decent, pleasant fellow. Agreed to let me have a loan, too. And he seemed to like me, for the next day he asked me for dinner, and again the next day. I met his daughter, a charming girl, and also Tao Pan-te, an excellent fellow. Fine judge of poetry too. Had read mine and said it had a touch of the antique elegance.'

Kia refilled his beaker, took a long draught and went on: 'After that second dinner I went to Wen, told him I re­fused to spy on Feng because I had found him a gentleman, and that, as a gentleman, I didn't spy on gentlemen. I added that, for precisely that reason, I wouldn't mind spying on him, on Lee, and all their friends. I may have added one or two things more, too. Well, Wen shouted that I wouldn't have got one copper from them anyway, because Lee had re­considered and the whole plan was off. That suited me. I bor­rowed a silver piece from my landlord on the strength of Feng's promised loan, and betook myself to the centres of gaiety and frivolous pleasure. There I met a little girl, the loveliest and nicest I ever came across. The girl I had been waiting for all my young life.'

'Does she also make poetry?' Ma Joong asked suspiciously.

'Thank Heaven, no! Nice, simple, understanding girl! The restful kind, if you know what I mean. Stable. Heaven preserve me from literary girls!' He hiccoughed, then added: 'Literary girls are high-strung, and I am sufficiently high-strung myself. No sir, all the poetry that'll be done in my household shall be done by me. Exclusively!'

'Why are you sulking then?' Ma Joong shouted, 'August Heaven, some fellows have all the luck! You'll marry the Feng wench, and take the other girl, the restful one I mean, as concubine.'

Kia sat up in his chair. With an effort he focussed his eyes on his companion and said loftily:

'Feng Dai is a gentleman, and Miss Feng is not a wench but a well-educated, serious girl, although she is a bit high-strung. Feng likes me, she likes me, and I like them. Do you think I am such a cad as to accept Feng's only daughter and his money, then, as my modest contribution to the festivities, buy myself a courtesan and put her in the house?'

'I know lots of fellows who'd jump at the chance!' Ma Joong said wistfully. 'Including me myself!'

'I am glad I am not you!' Kia remarked nastily.

'Vice-versa!'

'Vice-versa?' the poet repeated slowly, creasing his fore­head in a deep frown. Pointing with a crooked forefinger alternately at Ma Joong and himself he muttered: 'You . . . I . . . you ... I.' Then he suddenly shouted: 'You are in­sulting me, sir!'

'Not at all!' Ma Joong said airily. 'You miscounted just now.'

'I apologize,' Kia said stiffly. 'I am greatly preoccupied with my sorrows.'

'Well, what are you going to do?'

'I don't know! If only I had the money, I'd buy that girl and vanish! I would then be doing Tao a favour too, he is fond of Miss Feng, you know, only he doesn't want to show it.' Bending over to Ma Joong he whispered hoarsely: 'Mr Tao has scruples, you see.'

Ma Joong heaved a deep sigh.

'Now you listen for once to an experienced man of the world, youngster!' he said disgustedly. 'You and Tao and all of you over-scrupulous brush-wielders only make simple things complicated for yourselves and for others. I'll tell you what to do. You marry the Feng girl, give her all you have got for one month, till she's as low-strung as a girl can get and implores you for a little respite. Then you say all right, she'll get her respite but you can't sweat it out either, so you buy yourself the restful wench and your wife'll be grateful and the other wench'll be grateful and they'll both be as restful or restive as you want them to be. Then you go out and buy yourself a third wife so that you can always propose a four-handed game of dominoes when they start making trouble, that's what my boss Judge Dee does with his three wives and he is a learned scholar and a great gentleman. And, since I mention my boss, I'd better be going now!'

He put the wine jug to his mouth and emptied it. 'Thanks for your company!' he said and walked off, leaving the indignant poet groping for a suitable reply.