Chapter Eighty-threeGrandmother Jia smiles as she counsels her heart's darlings; quiet Amber passes on a dying wish

Ever since autumn had come to the Rong mansion, Grandmother Jia's health had grown steadily worse. At first, with Faithful's support, she could still take a few steps along the verandah. Later she could only sit for a little while on the kang; a few days more, and she could no longer manage even that. All day she lay languishing against a large bolster, her eyes closed to rest herself. Her face would grow feverishly hot, but her palms were cold, and she took less food and tea than ever. “What would Your Old Ladyship like to eat?” Faithful asked. Grandmother Jia sighed. “In the state I am in, there is very little I can eat. Tell the kitchen to make whatever is convenient. There is no call to put them to trouble for one person.” Faithful's eyes reddened, and she hurriedly turned her face away.

Xi-feng too had been ill during these days, but with Patience to support her she came twice daily, morning and evening. That day, seeing a bowl of green-grained rice gruel brought in from the kitchen, she took it herself and sat on the edge of the bed. She scooped up a spoonful, blew on it until it was just warm, and held it to Grandmother Jia's lips. Grandmother Jia took two mouthfuls from her hand, then waved it away. “One more mouthful, Grandmother,” said Xi-feng with a smile. “Then you can take your medicine.” “There is still no colour in your own face, yet here you are coaxing me to eat,” said Grandmother Jia. “Save what little strength you have for your proper business.” Xi-feng did not put the spoon down. “Looking after Grandmother is my proper business.” Grandmother Jia nodded, smiling, and in the end took another half-spoonful. Then she pushed the bowl away and would have no more. She looked at Xi-feng, and only after a long pause said, “Little monkey, your health matters too. I have Faithful and the others here, whatever happens. Go back and rest.”

Presently Doctor Wang arrived. He felt the pulse at her left wrist, then at her right, and sat a long time beside the bed before rising and going out. Jia Zheng and Jia Lian followed him into the outer room to ask his opinion. Doctor Wang spoke very quietly. “The external disorder has subsided; this is not something medicines can remedy. The heart's vital energy is now failing, and the stomach's is weak. All she should have is quiet rest. Let the old lady have her own way. The rest is ordained.” Jia Zheng sighed. “We can only do what lies in our power.” Jia Lian went back in and forced a smile. “Don't worry, Grandmother. The doctor says it is only a little harm done by the autumn dryness. Once the weather turns cool, you will get better of yourself.” Grandmother Jia looked at him. “You needn't give me false comfort. I have lived all these years; do you think I don't know my own body? I am afraid I shan't last the year.” Jia Lian dared not answer this, but only lowered his head. For a while the only sound in the room was the water boiling on the medicine stove. Faithful parted the charcoal with the fire-tongs; Parrot carried out the spittoon to empty it; Amber tucked in the corner of the bed-curtain. No one dared make a sound.

On the day of the Double Ninth the sky was clear and bright. Grandmother Jia felt a little stronger on waking, and had Faithful comb her hair, then ordered her usual jacket to be fetched: dark-blue crêpe silk over “pearl-fleece” lambskin. She put it on. “You had better stay indoors, Mother,” Lady Wang urged. “It is windy outside.” Grandmother Jia smiled. “The Double Ninth is a day for old people. I have been ill all this time, and the whole family has kept me company with long faces. Let us spend today together. Tomorrow can look after itself. Who knows whether I shall live to see another Double Ninth?” They could only smile and try to be cheerful. Presently a small open bamboo carrying-chair was brought over, with an ermine mattress laid in it. Faithful and Amber, one on either side, helped her into it. Li Wan and Jia Lan followed, with Bao-yu, Dai-yu, Bao-chai, Tan-chun, Xiang-yun and the others. Bao-yu wanted to walk beside the chair and steady it. Grandmother Jia smiled. “Don't hold on to me. Mind you don't trip over your own feet and make me feel sorry for you.”

The party passed the Drenched Blossoms Pavilion. In former years, at this season, the fragrance of the osmanthus had filled courtyard after courtyard, and the verandahs had been lined with chrysanthemums. Now there were few to tend the garden's flowers and trees. Dead leaves lay in heaps beside the channels, and there was no sweeping them all away. Several rose trellises held nothing but bare vines, which rustled whenever the wind blew. Outside Sweet-rice Village the ears of rice lay flattened; below the Lotus Pavilion the withered lotus stalks leaned awry, and a few broken patches of duckweed floated on the water. Grandmother Jia looked about her all the way, and only on reaching the Lotus Pavilion did she order them to stop. Two tables had already been laid with light refreshments: chrysanthemum wine, cakes and pastries, and a few dishes of fruit. Grandmother Jia glanced at the tables and smiled. “In other years, at this time, there would have been crabs laid out here already, wouldn't there?” Faithful hastened to smile back. “Your Old Ladyship said yourself that, tasty as they are, they are not good for one.” Grandmother Jia laughed too. “So you are stopping my mouth with my own words.” She simply had the girls sit closer to her, and went on smiling. “There are still a few fish by the bank. Why don't you catch some, to amuse yourselves?” The old women brought over several short rods. Bao-yu was the first to seize one. No sooner had the float stirred than he jerked it up, but the hook had caught in a crevice between the stones. The rod struck a blue flagstone and snapped in two with a crack; even the hook vanished no one knew where.

Everyone laughed. “That fish is a lucky one,” Xiang-yun said, laughing. “Instead of being caught on Master Bao's hook, it has broken Master Bao's rod first.” Grandmother Jia laughed several times herself. “Ever since he was little, he has broken everything he touched. Now even the fish know to keep out of his way.” She was still laughing as she spoke, but the laughter gradually died away. She gazed at the water for a while, passed a hand over her temple, then raised her eyes to look at several of the garden's towers and pavilions. Suddenly she said, “From the day I entered this family until now, it has been more than fifty years.” They all fell silent. “When I first came, the old Duke was still alive. That generation had their follies too, but they wore a garment for years and only had new things made for festivals and the New Year. At least they knew what thrift meant. And now a perfectly good family, in my hands, has gone from bad to worse.” Here she paused, and her voice sank. “Lately I keep dreaming of them. They just stand there looking at me, without saying a word. I am ashamed to face them.” Then she gave a little laugh herself. “What is the use of saying all this? Our ancestors and the blessed Bodhisattvas will have their own arrangements. Come, Faithful, pour me some wine.”

They all smiled with her. A few who could not contain themselves turned away to wipe their tears unseen. Bao-yu, holding the half of his fishing-rod, kept feeling the broken end. Dai-yu said nothing, but drew back into place the corner of Grandmother Jia's mattress that had slipped down. When the gathering broke up, they helped Grandmother Jia into her chair. She turned to look once more at the Lotus Pavilion and said only, “Let us all go back. The wind is getting chilly.”

A few days after the Double Ninth, Grandmother Jia's strength declined still further. One evening she told Faithful and the others to go out and rest, keeping only Amber beside her. Amber sat by the footstool, gently patting her legs. Suddenly Grandmother Jia asked, “How many years have you been with me?” “Seven years, Your Old Ladyship,” Amber replied. “Seven years. That is no short time. You are a quiet child. There is something I want said, and I entrust it to you alone.” Amber knelt at once. “Your Old Ladyship has only to command me.” Grandmother Jia looked up at the canopy, and only after a long while said, “When Min was little, she cried even more readily than our little Lin. On her wedding day, before getting into the bridal chair, she came back and hugged me once more. Later she fell ill and died, and I never even saw her one last time.” She broke off, then said very softly, “My daughter is gone. Her daughter is my heart's own flesh. The one who is my very life must always be with my heart's own flesh.” Amber listened with her face to the ground. Grandmother Jia went on, “When I have closed my eyes, tell the Master those words. Just those words: add nothing and leave nothing out.” “Yes,” said Amber. Grandmother Jia closed her eyes and spoke no more. Amber sat down again by the footstool. Seeing Grandmother Jia's hand lying outside the quilt, she gently put it back beneath the covers.

The next day Grandmother Jia sent for Wen-guan. Wen-guan had changed into plain everyday clothes and, on coming in, first kowtowed beside the bed. Grandmother Jia called her nearer, took her hand and looked closely at her for a while. She began, “The way you look—” but said no more. Instead she told Faithful to fetch a small box from on top of the cupboard. It was old purple sandalwood, without ornament, and even the hasp was worn pale. Grandmother Jia handed it to Wen-guan. “Take it and keep it safe yourself. After I am gone, make your own way. Go out and find some means of earning a living.” She patted the girl's hand twice. “You are a clever child. Your looks remind me of my Min.” Then she added, “Take good care of yourself in the years to come. Don't be like her, dying so very young.” At this her voice caught again. Wen-guan held the box and knelt on the floor, only bowing her head to the ground. When Grandmother Jia's breathing had settled, she withdrew with the box in her arms. Faithful merely locked the cupboard door and put the key away on her person.

Another day passed. Feeling her strength grow short, Grandmother Jia ordered Jia Zheng, Lady Wang, Lady Xing, Li Wan, Xi-feng and the others to come to her bedside. Bao-yu and the girls waited outside the curtain too. First she called Jade over to Xiang-yun. “You are to go with our little Yun and be a companion to Kingfisher. Our Yun has an open, easy nature and may not think of the little things. See to them for her on my behalf.” Xiang-yun knelt at once. “Grandmother, you cannot spare anyone from your side. I don't want her.” Grandmother Jia smiled. “Am I short of people here? Just take her with you.” Then she called Pearl and Glass over to Bao-qin. “If Qin goes south by boat again, you two are to go with her. Life on a boat is not like life at home. Take care over everything.” Bao-qin answered through her tears. Grandmother Jia now looked at Jia Zheng and Lady Wang and gave her instructions plainly. “Bao-yu's marriage must be arranged soon. There is no need to wait for me. If anything should happen to me, you must not let the mourning observances hold you back and delay this important business of his.” They all listened with their hands respectfully lowered. Jia Zheng bowed and assented.

Grandmother Jia rested for a while with her eyes closed, then said to Jia Zheng, “There is no need to wait three years. Do it within the hundred days.” None of them dared answer. Lady Wang looked at Jia Zheng, then lowered her head.

Tan-chun was standing at the foot of the bed. Grandmother Jia suddenly reached out a hand. “Third girl, come here.” Tan-chun hurried forward and knelt beside her. Grandmother Jia held her hand, though there was little strength left in her grip, and said very softly, “You are one who can hold firm.” Tan-chun lowered her eyes and answered, “Yes.” The hand that held Grandmother Jia's trembled a little. Grandmother Jia kept her grasp a while longer, then let go. Li Wan pushed Jia Lan forward. He kowtowed with proper decorum. Grandmother Jia drew him down to sit on the footstool and stroked his head. “Be a good, dutiful son to your mother. All these years she has stayed by you.” His tears fell on the front of his robe, and he only murmured an assent.

She then told Faithful to fetch an old bunch of keys and open a camphorwood chest in the inner room. It held the private savings she had put by since she first came to the family as a bride: silver ingots, old jewellery, and a few deeds to farmland. She had paper and brush brought and allotted them to one branch of the family after another. Jia Zheng received several packets of silver, which she told him to keep for everyday expenses. Lady Xing and Lady Wang each had a share; Li Wan and Jia Lan had a small box to themselves. When she came to Xi-feng, Grandmother Jia said, “Keep this share safe for yourself. Lian is not to touch a single coin of it.” Xi-feng knelt beside the bed and smiled through her tears. “Keep it for your own use, Grandmother. I am not short of this little bit yet.” “Keep it when I tell you to,” said Grandmother Jia. “You have spent these years looking after the family's affairs. There may not be much left in your own hands.” Xi-feng's eyes reddened, and she received it with both hands. Seeing that more than half the contents of the chest had gone, Jia Zheng hastily said, “Mother, keep some back. There will be many days yet when you need money.” Grandmother Jia looked at him. “In your dealings outside, don't think only of appearances.” Jia Zheng dared say no more. “What need have I of money now?” she went on. “I saved all this for you to use. It ought to be divided up, so that I need not keep it by me and worry about it.” She ordered the chest closed and said no more. As Faithful was putting away the keys, she saw a little purse still tucked beneath the pillow and asked, “Who is this to be left to?” “Keep it yourself,” said Grandmother Jia. Tears streaming down her face, Faithful put it back under the pillow.

That night, after the second watch, Grandmother Jia's breathing grew shorter. They were all gathered in her room. Xi-feng stood at the foot of the bed, supported by Patience; Bao-yu and Dai-yu knelt on either side. Grandmother Jia opened her eyes and looked at each of them, then turned her gaze towards the window. Faithful quickly raised the blind a fraction. Outside the moonlight was clear and white, falling on a pot of fading chrysanthemums beneath the verandah. “Don't all crowd round,” said Grandmother Jia. “You leave me no breath.” They hastily drew back a little. Bao-yu shuffled forward on his knees, took her hand and called, “Grandmother.” Grandmother Jia looked at him, but then shifted her eyes to Dai-yu, kneeling on the other side. Her lips moved faintly, as if she wanted to say something. Only after a long time did she clasp Bao-yu's hand and say, “You two have grown up together since you were little.” She rested, then added, “Be kind to one another from now on.” She tried to speak again, but could no longer get the words out.

As she laboured for breath, a flush suddenly spread across her face, and her colour seemed to improve. Hearing the stir from the outer room, Jia Zheng came in and looked at her. He knew it was the last rally before death, and hastily ordered ginseng broth to be brought. The broth was held to Grandmother Jia's lips, but her jaws were already clenched and they could not pour it in. She closed her eyes for a while, then opened them again and slowly looked all round the room. Her eyes were still clear and bright. As she looked, a faint smile gradually appeared at the corners of her mouth, but her chest no longer rose and fell. She had gone with a smile.

Faithful stood staring beside the bed, then suddenly flung herself down against its edge. “Mother,” Lady Wang cried, “how could you leave us like this!” They all dropped to their knees. Xi-feng swayed, and Patience hastily caught her in her arms. Dai-yu only pressed her forehead against the edge of the bed, without a sound. The old women waiting outside heard the commotion within and set off in different directions to carry the news of the death.

Towards dawn Jia Zheng changed into mourning and sat alone in his outer study, a book held in his hand. For a long time he had not turned a page. Amber came in, knelt and kowtowed. “Her Old Ladyship left a private message which she told me to give the Master.” Jia Zheng raised his head and looked at her. Amber said, “My daughter is gone. Her daughter is my heart's own flesh. The one who is my very life must always be with my heart's own flesh.” Having spoken, she lowered her head. The book dropped from Jia Zheng's hand beneath the desk. He did not pick it up, but sat where he was, and only after a long silence said, “I understand.” Amber kowtowed again, rose and went out. Back in Grandmother Jia's room, she wiped clean and put away, one by one, the spectacles, prayer beads, keys, comb and fine-toothed comb that Grandmother Jia had used every day. Then she wrapped two garments of her own into a small bundle, took it in her arms and went away. When Faithful returned from keeping vigil, she found the little bed tidied perfectly, its mattress folded to one side. She stood there a moment, then went back to the bier.

Once Grandmother Jia was gone, those few rooms stood empty. For the time being no one moved the furnishings. Only Parrot went in every day to dust and look after them. The tea things and ornaments were all arranged as they had been before.

Grandmother Jia's funeral, of course, had to be laid out according to established precedent. A plain mourning canopy was erected before Rong-xi Hall, white hangings filled the rooms and courtyards, and mourning lanterns replaced those at the gate. Oil was added twice daily to the perpetual lamp before the bier; in the lamps of the separate apartments, however, one fewer rush wick was lit each evening. Paper offerings, the canopy for the chanting of scriptures, the drummers and the funeral meals all had their established requirements: omit a single thing, and someone would talk. Yet whenever anyone put out a hand for money, the accounts office said there was none. Several old mourning lanterns beneath the entrance porch had been recovered with white paper; two of their ribs were already loose. There were not enough white hangings, so old lengths of plain cloth from the storeroom were pieced together, the stitches uneven in length. The list of paper offerings lacked nothing: sedan-chairs, horses, mansions and storehouses. The steward went through it from beginning to end, crossing out whatever could be spared, but the remaining total still considerably exceeded the silver in hand. The canopy framework had been obtained on credit; the bearers' firm demanded a deposit in advance.

Xi-feng rested for two days, but on the third she struggled up. “Rest another two days, madam,” Patience urged. “Master Lian and Mrs Lin are seeing to things outside.” “When I was managing matters at the Ning mansion, I used to be there every day to call the roll at half past six in the morning,” said Xi-feng. “Now that it is our own Grandmother's funeral, am I to lie in bed?” She had herself helped into the outer room to attend to business. Since she could not sit for long, a mattress was laid on the kang and the account books were brought to her in stacks. Several times a day she had to work through the figures. Her first question to Patience was, “Has someone been sent to tell Grannie Liu's family?” “Not yet,” said Patience. “Send someone. When Grandmother was alive, she loved listening to her talk.” The woman from the kitchen wiped both hands on the front of her clothes and reported, “With this year's locusts, good rice has a price but there is none to be had. Never mind fine rice: only yesterday I was given a tongue-lashing at the butcher's stall over two catties of meat. If there are many mourners, where are we to find all the vegetables, chickens and ducks?” “First make an accurate estimate of the numbers,” said Xi-feng. “A table for the guests themselves and a table for their attendants: don't count a table with only three people sitting at it as a full one. Add two vegetable dishes and take away two meat dishes. Grandmother hated waste when she was alive.” The woman assented and left. Then a clerk from the outer accounts office came in carrying a pile of notes. “We cannot get the rents from the estates,” he reported. “I went from household to household, and every one of them said the harvest was bad. One old fellow could only say, ‘It isn't that we won't pay. There is nothing in the fields.’ I have seen no ready silver, but I have collected a sleeveful of requests for more time.” He presented the notes: most were on coarse paper, only a few on red stationery. After hearing him, Xi-feng had the notes sorted by estate headman, then took up her vermilion brush and marked them one by one. Only a small brazier burned beside the kang. Her left hand held down the register of funeral meals. Some of the notes had their sealed edges rubbed white; others had mud on their corners. Spread out one by one, they almost covered half the kang. Of this we need say no more.

She then had Patience help her to Lady Xing's rooms to try to raise some silver. Lady Xing sat on the kang holding a hand-warmer and smiled. “Naturally, we must all do our best for the Old Lady. But the Elder Master has to provide sacrificial offerings too, and there really isn't much we can spare in this household. You have managed the family for all these years. Surely you made provision for a funeral?” “The money I set aside has long since been advanced for other expenses,” said Xi-feng. “This is not just a question of my standing now, but of the whole family's.” “If it is the whole family's affair, then let the Master and Lady Wang decide,” said Lady Xing. “How much could a mere woman like me have?” Xi-feng sat a little longer, then had to let Patience help her back. At the door she turned. “If you have five hundred taels, Mother, lend me three hundred for now. We can settle matters after the first seventh-day observance.” Lady Xing smiled. “I shall have someone look.” The next day only fifty taels arrived, and on the wrapping were written the words “Funeral Offering”. Xi-feng looked at it and said nothing for a long time. Patience could not contain herself. “Last year, when Her Ladyship wanted those two hundred taels, you had to pawn your gold neck-ring to make up the sum.” Xi-feng merely told Sunshine to enter it in the accounts.

In the end Jia Zheng spoke, ordering Jia Lian to draw up a list of the mansion's valuables: what could be pawned must be pawned, and what could be sold must be sold. Jia Lian and Lin Zhi-xiao spent two days making an inventory. Their list was full of the treasures that had lent the household distinction in years past: tourmalines, cat's-eyes and pear-shaped Ru-ware vases. But when the storerooms were opened, several of the antiques had left only empty boxes behind. The servants were questioned, and every one professed ignorance. A man from Heng-shu's pawnshop stood with his hands respectfully lowered and reported, “The appraiser says that lately there has been a constant stream of your servants bringing in hairpins, bracelets, vessels and utensils to pawn. The shop has a great deal of unsaleable stock on its hands, and really cannot find any large sum to take more.” Having no other course, Jia Zheng entrusted several scrolls of painting and calligraphy by Tang Yin and Dong Qichang from the family collection to an acquaintance, who sold them to wealthy households in the city. Such carriages, horses, tables and stands as were worth anything were also taken by Lin Zhi-xiao to the Vegetable Market crossroads and put up for sale. A price would be marked in the morning and reduced by a tenth at noon; by late afternoon the things were being let go for half-price. There were many lookers and few buyers. When Lin Zhi-xiao returned, he reported, “The buyers drove the price down to the very bottom. They would not add the smallest fraction.” Jia Zheng asked how much the sale had brought. He named a figure, and Jia Zheng took up his brush and entered it on the list.

Far fewer official families came to offer condolences than had done in former days. Roadside offerings were set up before the Rong mansion, but a great stretch of ground at the end of the street stood empty. The holes were still there where other households had once planted fir poles for their funeral canopies. Two young servants stood at the gate receiving cards. “Only these few families?” said one. “When Master Rong's wife was buried over at the Ning mansion, there were four funeral canopies put up by princes' households alone.” “What do you know?” said the other. “There are plenty in trouble at court these days. Several families have people under arrest to answer charges already. Even those who aren't in trouble have shut their gates and are watching which way the wind blows. Hasn't the Zhen family already had its property confiscated?” As soon as Xiang-yun entered the mourning hall, she flung herself before the coffin and cried until she fainted. Kingfisher and Jade hastily helped her aside, but on coming round she struggled up to go back. Dai-yu, dressed entirely in plain white, kept vigil every day. When she grew tired, she sat for a little while leaning against a pillar. “Go back and rest a little, miss,” Nightingale urged. “There are people here to keep watch.” Dai-yu only shook her head. Kneeling on the rush cushion, she gazed at the perpetual lamp before the bier and said only, “Grandmother.”

While the household was still in mourning, a young gate servant hurried in to report, “Master Xia at the palace has sent a eunuch to say that Her Highness has fallen ill.” Lady Wang hastened with Jia Zheng to receive him in the front hall. “May we go into the palace to pay our respects to Her Highness?” she asked. “No,” said the eunuch. They asked how serious the illness was, but he said only, “We dare not talk about affairs within the palace.” Yet when he had said this he did not leave. He drank his tea and sighed. “There have been enormous expenses everywhere in the palace lately. Everyone in service, from top to bottom, is hard put to it.” There was little ready silver in the mansion, so they had a packet made up from what could be gathered, added two small gold ingots, and sent it over beneath the tea tray. The eunuch slipped it into his sleeve and weighed it in his hand. Only then did he say softly, “Her Highness has another message to be passed on to the family.” Jia Zheng hastily asked what it was. “Be guarded in speech and cautious in conduct,” said the eunuch. He then rose and took his leave. Jia Zheng saw him down the steps. Turning back, he saw the white hangings throughout the courtyard rising and falling in the wind. Lady Wang stood beneath the mourning curtain, still holding the list they had just used to collect the silver.

Although Xi-feng was ill, the funeral accounts still passed through her hands each day. One day Jia Lian came back from outside and found her reclining on the kang, checking the number of tables for the funeral meals. He sat down. “Patience and Sunshine can see to these things. Why must you trouble yourself?” Xi-feng smiled. “If I don't keep watch, a hundred tables tomorrow will be entered as a hundred and fifty.” Jia Lian gave a cold laugh. “You have always understood everything so well. But there is one thing I don't understand. That year Er-jie took Doctor Hu's medicine and lost her child. Afterwards, what else went on in her room?” The hand with which Xi-feng was turning the accounts stopped. “The doctor prescribed the medicine. Why ask me?” Jia Lian went on, “Shan-jie, who served in Er-jie's room that year, has been avoiding me whenever she sees me these past two years. Wasn't she always so eager to come about me before?” Xi-feng turned the page. “How should I know? It is all servants' gossip.”

Jia Lian stared at her for a while, then rose. “If, as you say, you don't know, how do you know it is servants' gossip?” With that he lifted the curtain and went out.

No one else was left in the room. Xi-feng sat where she was. Her vermilion brush had been put down, and she did not reach for it. One hand pressed on the account book; she had pinched a crease into the corner of the page.

After sitting a long time, she closed the account book. Scarcely had she closed it than she opened it again, turned back to the same page and smoothed the corner flat. Then she sat motionless once more. Hearing no sound from within, Patience came in from the outer room. She found Xi-feng with both hands resting on the accounts, her eyes on the lamp. Patience was about to speak, but Xi-feng spoke first. “Have Sunshine check tomorrow's list of tables once more.” Patience assented. Xi-feng stood up by herself and, supporting herself on the edge of the kang, started into the inner room. After two steps she stopped. “Don't blow that lamp out. Leave it burning.”

Meanwhile Bao-yu, seeing that the servants in the outer study and the garden had both been reduced in number, called in several of his own attendants. Li Gui, Chu-yao, Sao-hong and the others stood in a row, none of them speaking. Bao-yu laid several packets of silver on the table, then brought out his old inkstone, two fans and a few fan pendants and put them together. “Things in the family are not as they were,” he said, “and I don't need so many people about me. Those who have homes to go to should go back. Those who have nowhere to go can take this little silver and these things and look for work in their own time.” “How can you have no one to wait on you, Master Bao?” Li Gui hastily asked. “Tealeaf is still here,” said Bao-yu. “Besides, all I do now is sit in the study. What do I need so many people for?” Chu-yao and those others who had homes to return to lowered their heads and took what was offered. Sao-hong sniffed. “Will we still be allowed to come and see you afterwards, Master Bao?” “Come and see me whenever it is convenient,” said Bao-yu. Li Gui was the last to receive a packet of silver. “I have been with you since you were little, Master Bao. Since this is what you say now, I can only go. Take good care of yourself in everything.” Bao-yu nodded. “Give my regards to your mother when you get back.” They kowtowed and withdrew one by one. Tealeaf stood at the door. When he saw that they had all gone, he grinned. “Let me have a share too.” Bao-yu laughed and scolded him. “Why should the one who stays get a share? I shall still have places for you to go on errands.” Tealeaf answered him while gathering up the packets of silver left on the table.

As for Jia She, Grandmother Jia had been dead only a short time before he began pressing Lady Xing two or three times a day, asking only whether there was any definite answer about Faithful. One day he summoned Lady Xing. “That girl Faithful—now that the Old Lady is no longer here, get it settled as soon as you can.” Lady Xing tried a smile. “But we are in the middle of the funeral.” Jia She laughed coldly. “And how long is the funeral to go on?” Lady Xing dared say no more and withdrew. Two young servants were still waiting outside for instructions. One hurried up to her. “What shall we tell the Master, Your Ladyship?” Lady Xing frowned and said only, “Tell him the girl is still being stubborn.” That evening Jia She sent someone to press the matter again, saying merely that he must have a definite answer within three days.

A draught came through the door of the mourning hall, and the shade of the perpetual lamp tilted. Faithful reached out and set it straight, then knelt again to burn paper offerings. What came of Jia She's attempts to force Faithful to submit, we do not yet know; listen to the next chapter for the explanation.