Explore Chapter 80 of 'Spring Ming Outer History' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Now, Yang Xingyuan sat there, lost in thought about Li Yun. Wu Bibo said to him, "What are you daydreaming about? I must rise early tomorrow to leave the city and can no longer keep you company." Yang Xingyuan replied, "I am not indulging in idle fancies. I am pondering how a person born in this age might achieve true completeness." Wu Bibo laughed, "How extraordinary! Here you are contemplating the Dao again, but I cannot join you." With that, he left on his own.
Left alone, Yang Xingyuan could not help but ponder Li Yun's circumstances from beginning to end. He reflected from dusk into evening, and from evening deep into the night, yet sleep eluded him. Staring out the window, he saw only pitch darkness, not a single star in the sky. The pear tree outside seemed to have vanished into the void, leaving only a faint shadow swaying in the dark air. The pear blossoms were invisible in the night, transformed into a tree of ghostly silhouettes. He murmured, "Pear blossoms, I have finally done right by you." No sooner had the words left his lips than an inexplicable shudder ran through him. Sweat poured from his body like rain, and a wave of nausea washed over him. Groping his way from the bed, he leaned against the table and, with a violent heave, spat out a mouthful of blood. Clutching the table through a fit of coughing, he finally collapsed back onto the bed, feeling dizzy and feverish, his limbs burning and his entire body aching. He found no peace. Until dawn, not only did he fail to sleep, but his torment multiplied. By nine o'clock, the servant had not yet risen. Unwilling to groan or cry out, he got up, drank some cold tea, and fell back onto the bed. By then, his whole body burned with fever, and his head throbbed as if split asunder. In a fleeting glance, the sky seemed filled with pear blossoms, fluttering one after another in the void. His body felt weightless, as if resting upon a soft, exceedingly comfortable bed of pear blossoms. Gazing toward the pear grove, he saw a thatched cottage. Behind it flowed a clear stream, and by the bank stood an ancient willow tree with a fishing boat tied beneath it. Yang Xingyuan thought, "This place seems familiar." Just then, the wooden door of the cottage opened, and a woman emerged. She wore a light blue cotton dress, her hair in a loose braid. Smiling, she nodded at Yang Xingyuan. His joy was beyond all expectation, indescribable. Yet he felt an immense, unbridgeable distance between them, as if she were a fairy from a remote mountain, visible but unattainable. Her appearance was pristine, untouched by worldly dust, marking her as a pure soul from the clear hills and waters, a being beyond the mundane world. Yang Xingyuan could not help but feel ashamed of his own vulgarity. The woman, however, showed no hesitation and came to sit beside him under the willow tree. Yang Xingyuan thought, since there is a fishing boat here, why not invite her aboard to drift downstream? Taking her hand, he said, "Let us board this boat for an excursion." The woman laughed, "Do you desire this boat?" Yang Xingyuan smiled, "I do not necessarily desire it, but meeting you today is the greatest fortune of my life. I wish only to sit with you for a while." The woman said, "Your intention is kind, but I am afraid I have no time." As she spoke, the fishing boat suddenly rustled. Yang Xingyuan turned to look but saw no one. "I must go," said the woman. Yang Xingyuan reached out to stop her, but she vanished instantly. Instead, countless pear blossom petals swirled down from the sky. Yang Xingyuan cried out and woke to find it all a dream. Opening his eyes, he was still in bed, drenched in sweat. The spittoon was nearly half-full with phlegm streaked with blood. His shout in the dream had startled him awake. The servant, hearing the noise, rushed in. "Mr. Yang, why did you cry out? You gave me a fright." Yang Xingyuan said, "Press the bell for me and telephone for a physician." The servant promptly did so. Soon, the doctor arrived and was led into the room. After a prolonged examination, he told Yang Xingyuan, "This illness is scarlet fever. It came on fiercely, but has already reached the third stage. The danger has passed, and you now require only proper convalescence." Yang Xingyuan barely understood and responded vaguely. The servant followed the doctor to fill the prescription. From then on, Yang Xingyuan took medicine daily. When his condition slightly improved, he found the hospital too dreary and moved back to the Guild Hall. The steward there, upon seeing his return, handed him a letter. Opening it, he found it was from Wu Bipo, sent from Outside the City. It read:
My dear brother Xingyuan, Since our spring outing, another spring has waned. I am delighted to hear your illness has greatly improved. Surviving such a calamity surely brings future blessings-my congratulations. Burdened by relentless busyness, I deeply regret not visiting you in person. As spring ends and summer begins, the outskirts are adorned with blooming flowers amid the trees and flocks of chirping birds-a sight not to be missed. I hope you can spare time for a half-day excursion. I shall prepare a warm welcome.
After reading the letter, Yang Xingyuan thought he might as well take this opportunity for some fresh air. The next day, feeling much better, he instructed the steward to hire a carriage and set off for Outside the City. Upon arriving at the dormitory, Wu Bipo came out to greet him and led him to his room. Yang Xingyuan saw neatly arranged tables and chairs, with several pots of peonies lending the room a vibrant air. His spirits lifted. He smiled, "It has been many days, and you have become even more adept at tidying up." Wu Bipo replied, "Last night, anticipating your visit, I cleaned the place. These flowers were specially bought from the florist this morning." Yang Xingyuan laughed, "Then my arrival is quite welcome." Wu Bipo said, "There is a matter I wish to discuss. I have been awaiting your coming." "What is it? Tell me," said Yang Xingyuan. Wu Bipo took a manuscript from his pocket and handed it over. Yang Xingyuan saw written on it: "A Discussion on the Poetry Draft of 'Remaining Words from the East Tower,'" with the inscription below: "Respectfully copied by your junior, Wu Bipo." He first praised, "The handwriting is quite elegant," then began to read. They were four seven-character quatrains titled "After Reading 'Remaining Words from the East Tower.'"
Yang Xingyuan recited, "The butterfly and Zhuangzi-illusory transformations, / Clouds and smoke before the eyes, all turn to dust. / The young lord idly composes a Jiangnan rhapsody, / Wasting the lush splendor to the utmost. // The pearl of Hepu departs and returns, / Liu Lang, haggard, his temples streaked with gray. / Since ancient times, fair brows have bred slander, / A market tiger born among three men..."
As Yang Xingyuan read to this point, Wu Bipo snatched the manuscript away. "My poems are not fit to be seen. I wrote these four because you critiqued that book 'Remaining Words from the East Tower,' so I wanted your revisions." Yang Xingyuan said, "Although it is attributed to the Hermit Crab of East Tower, it is not my work." Wu Bipo replied, "Come now, we are such good friends. Why hide it? The style is identical to your poetic critiques, and that sentimental touch is especially like you. I concluded long ago it was yours." "How can you tell it is sentimental?" Yang Xingyuan asked. "Do not try to fool me," said Wu Bipo. "In that book, there is a Li Yun, and in your newspaper poems, you often mention a Li Yun. Is she not the same?" "Exactly," admitted Yang Xingyuan. "That is why I did not want anyone to know." Wu Bipo said, "I know a little about that Li Yun. She is but a courtesan. Is she worth such devotion?" Yang Xingyuan responded, "You judge her narrowly. Though humble, she is a person with pitiable circumstances. Should we not show compassion?" "Even if you pity her, can she know it?" Wu Bipo asked. "Unless..." "Unless what?" Yang Xingyuan pressed. Wu Bipo laughed, "Unless you marry her. But even then, does that mean you pity her?" "The more you speak, the less sense you make," said Yang Xingyuan. "Let us walk in the back playground. It is too stuffy here." "Very well," agreed Wu Bipo.
The two left for the back playground. Wu Bipo said, "Since you pity Li Yun and she is fond of you, why not extricate her?" Yang Xingyuan replied, "Have I not thought of that? But she has a mother and a madam. Freeing her would cost hundreds of dollars. Where would I get that money?" "A few hundred dollars is manageable," said Wu Bipo. "But if you truly wish to marry her, there might be another issue. Is this Li Yun a virgin courtesan or one who has received guests? Do you know?" "How absurd!" retorted Yang Xingyuan. "Since we love each other, what does it matter? I intend to marry her regardless." "Marry her? Will your family agree? Moreover, your means are limited. Can you support two?" Stumped, Yang Xingyuan sighed, "When one is infatuated, there is nothing to be done." "What kind of person is she anyway? After all this, I still do not know," said Wu Bipo. "Her demeanor does not seem like a courtesan's," said Yang Xingyuan, describing her appearance and character. Wu Bipo laughed, "From your description, she sounds excellent. But alas, she is still from the pleasure quarters." "According to you, can a courtesan never make a good wife?" "Not necessarily," Wu Bipo replied, then smiled. "I have a jest. A friend who enjoyed courtesans often praised them. His wife made a scene: 'Courtesans are human, so am I. Why praise them and not me?' My friend laughed, 'Courtesans are naturally good. If I sent you to the alleyways for a couple of days, people would surely praise you too.' Upon hearing this, his wife scratched bloody lines on his face." Yang Xingyuan also laughed. "That wife is quite fierce." "That is nothing," said Wu Bipo. "I heard in Shanghai, a scholar's wife monitored her husband more closely than a detective. If he spoke to a courtesan, she would know. Eventually, he had to stay home." "Could she lock him up?" "She cut off his funds, so he could not go out." "Could he not earn money himself?" "She took all his seals and passbooks. His checks lacked seals, so the bank would not cash them. He was trapped. Later, the courtesan, noticing his absence, went to see him and persuaded the wife to release him." "So her tactics were no weaker," said Yang Xingyuan. "Exactly," Wu Bipo agreed. "He often said her affection was as deep as the sea. He planned to raise ten thousand dollars for her to buy her freedom." "Ten thousand dollars is no easy matter!" "He did not actually intend to buy her freedom. He wanted to use that sum to subdue his wife, a jealous shrew. Without the money, the courtesan could not enter; with it, his wife would say nothing." "What is the reasoning?" "His wife was from Xiaozhan in Tianjin. She lost her father early and was raised by a rough but doting army uncle, making her fierce-a notorious vixen. After her uncle died, she went to Beijing. She often said nothing matters but money. With money, one fears nothing. So when she saw her husband offering ten thousand dollars for the courtesan's manumission, she fell silent." Yang Xingyuan shook his head, laughing. "That story is too cruel. I could never do such a thing." After a while, Wu Bipo said, "After all this, what do you plan to do about Li Yun?" "I have no plan." "That is your fault. If you have no plan, why get so involved?" "It is hard to explain," said Yang Xingyuan. "When feelings run deep, all practical concerns are thrown to the winds." "But can you cast them aside? Can she?" "Why could she not?" "She depends on this for livelihood. If you ask her to ignore reality, she will not survive." "So, I should find a way for her?" "Naturally. If you do not, you are harming her." "That makes sense. But I cannot think of a way." "It is not that you cannot; you lack money. With money, you would find a solution." "What should I do?" "I suggest you marry her. Financial issues can be resolved." "How?" "Among our fellow townsmen, several are wealthy. Borrowing a few hundred dollars would not be a problem." "And how would I repay it?" "You are being bookish. After marrying, one more person adds little burden. Li Yun may have savings. Once she follows you, she can find work." "What work can a courtesan do?" "Where there is a will, there is a way. Once you marry her, she is your person. You share what you have." "That sounds reasonable. But there are many issues. First, my mother might not approve. Second, I am a poor scholar; supporting a family goes against my conscience. Third, she is proud; she might not endure a hard life." Wu Bipo countered, "For the first, this is an age of marital freedom. Your family should not be an issue. For the second, marriage is shared, not solely the man's responsibility. You are not incapable. For the third, precisely because she is proud, you should marry her. In her line, pride will not last. If you do not, she might end badly, and you will regret it." Yang Xingyuan laughed, "You sound like her advocate." "I am thinking of you," said Wu Bipo. "What is your advice?" "I urge you to let go and stop seeing her. If you continue, marry her. Otherwise, the deeper your feelings, the more she suffers and you hurt." "That is true. But easier said than done." "What is so hard? If you do not marry her, cut ties." "I cannot bear to." "Then marry her." "But I have no money." "Find a way." "What way?" "Borrow money." Yang Xingyuan laughed, "You make it sound easy. Lend me a few hundred dollars, and I will marry her." "Where would I get that money? Even if I had it, I could not lend it for this." "Then what is the use of talking?" "Though I cannot lend, I can help you find a way." "What way?" "Among our townsmen, there is that fat Hu San, quite wealthy. Let us approach him." "I am not very familiar with him. How can I ask?" "I know him. I will go with you." "Are you on good terms?" "We are not close, but I have a way. He recently took a concubine and enjoys poetry. If I compose poems for him, he will be pleased. Then when you ask to borrow, he will not refuse." Yang Xingyuan laughed, "You treat me like a fool. How could I have the nerve?" "You are bookish. In this age, one must be flexible. Just go. I guarantee success." "Even if flexible, I could not be so shameless." "Caring only about face and not substance-what kind of calculation is that?" After long argument, seeing Yang Xingyuan adamant, Wu Bipo had to let it go.
Another day passed. Yang Xingyuan received a letter from Li Yun saying she was ill-the doctor called it a severe cold-and asking him to visit. He immediately took a carriage to Pine and Bamboo House. Li Yun lay in bed, face flushed with fever, coughing intermittently. Yang Xingyuan touched her forehead-burning hot. "How are you?" Li Yun opened her eyes, glanced at him. "You have come? I feel awful." She coughed, spat phlegm. Yang Xingyuan saw streaks of blood and was alarmed. "Have you taken medicine?" "I saw a doctor yesterday, took a dose, but am no better. That is why I called." "Do not worry. Rest, and you will recover." "I am terrified." "Of what?" "I fear this illness will be the end of me." "Do not think that. It is just severe. In a day or two, you will be fine." "Last night I dreamed I died. My mother and madam wept bitterly." "Dreams reflect our thoughts. Do not believe them." "I know. But now I have no strength, my heart races." "That palpitation is due to fever. Rest quietly." Hearing this, Li Yun closed her eyes. Yang Xingyuan sat on the bed's edge, watching her fever-flushed face and intermittent coughs, his heart aching. How could such a flower-like person be tormented? I must find a way. Just then, Amao entered. "Master Yang, what do you think of our Seventh Young Miss's illness?" "She is very ill. We need a good doctor." "We call one daily, but she worsens." "Which doctor? We should change." "The neighboring Dr. Jiang is renowned. Shall we ask him?" "Very well." Amao fetched Dr. Jiang. Soon he arrived; Yang Xingyuan accompanied him as he took the pulse. "This illness involves heat entering the pericardium. Very severe." "Is there danger?" "That depends on her response to medicine." He left to write a prescription. Yang Xingyuan looked at it: warm pathogens invading the lungs, blood-streaked phlegm; treatment should cool the blood, remove stasis, and clear lung qi. He could not make sense of it and handed it to Amao.
The next day, Yang Xingyuan found Li Yun drowsy, worse than before, face crimson, body scalding. He called, but she did not hear. Her condition had deteriorated. He asked Amao, "Has she taken the medicine?" "Yes." "Then why is she still like this?" "I do not think doctors can cure her." "Why?" "Last night she dreamed of death again. She saw a man in black trying to take her. She struggled desperately and barely escaped." "She is delirious. Do not believe it." "I know. But her illness is strange." "How so?" "She fell ill after returning from outside-suddenly a headache, then fever. That day she went to Guanyin Temple to burn incense. On the way back, a monk smiled at her. She fell ill at home." "That is superstitious. Do not say such things." "I said the same. But she firmly believes that monk is a sorcerer from the temple who captured her soul. She begs you to burn incense and make a vow for her." "Since she wishes it, I will go." "Thank you, Master Yang." "No need. I only hope she recovers." Seeing Li Yun still unconscious, he left dispirited.
The following day, Yang Xingyuan went to Guanyin Temple. He prayed before Guanyin Bodhisattva for Li Yun, donated five dollars for incense, and left. Just outside the main hall, a monk approached smiling. "Master Yang, long time no see." It was Monk Fapo. Yang Xingyuan greeted him warmly. "What brings you to our humble temple?" "I came to burn incense for a friend." "For whom?" "A relative," Yang Xingyuan vaguely replied. "Male or female?" "Female." Fapo laughed, "Master Yang, you are not honest. You burn incense for a sweetheart." "Venerable Master, do not jest." "I do not jest. I have words for you. Shall we sit in the abbot's quarters?" "Certainly." Fapo led him there.
The abbot's quarters comprised three rooms, furnished more elegantly than ordinary cells. They sat opposite; a young monk served tea. "Master Yang, you are close to Li Yun of Pine and Bamboo House, are you not?" "How do you know?" Fapo smiled, "How could I not? You are a romantic figure; she a famed flower of the quarters-a natural match. I have long heard." "Venerable Master, as a monk, why inquire?" "A monk leaves the household, but where does he go? Is he not still in society? Though transcending the three realms, I remain within the five elements. How could I be unaware?" "And if you know?" "I know you are now in an inextricable situation." "How so?" "Li Yun is gravely ill; you wish to save her but lack means." Yang Xingyuan remained silent. "Master Yang, I speak candidly. Li Yun is exceedingly intelligent but trapped in a living hell. Since you are close, why not rescue her?" "How?" "Only one way: marry her." "I lack the means." "If you truly intend it, I can assist." "How?" "How much money?" "Five or six hundred dollars." "That is not large. I can arrange it." "Is that true?" "A monk does not speak falsehoods." "We are neither kin nor acquaintances. Why help me so?" Fapo smiled, "There is a reason. I help you; you help me." "How can I help you?" "Not now. You will know. Do you want Li Yun?" "If I do, can you help?" "If you agree, money is no issue." "This is too strange. I am a poor scholar; you a monk. Suddenly such a favor-I dare not accept." "Since you doubt, I had better not speak." "Please speak. If I can help, I will." "Then frankly: Li Yun's madam has ties with me. She owes me money, unpaid. I thought to take Li Yun to settle the debt. But she is stubborn, will not easily follow anyone. She is fond of you; if you marry her, she will agree. So I ask your help." Yang Xingyuan understood: Fapo intended to use Li Yun to settle the debt. "How much does she owe?" "Three hundred dollars." "That is not much. I will repay it." "Are you serious?" "Absolutely." "Good. You are straightforward; I too. Give me three hundred dollars, and Li Yun is yours." "But I clarify: we have not discussed marriage. I repay her debt, not a bride price." "Naturally. I know your noble character. For her to gain you is her fortune. How speak of price?" "Then come to the Guild Hall tomorrow for the money. I do not have it today." "Very well. I will come tomorrow morning." After casual words, Yang Xingyuan left.
That evening, Yang Xingyuan went again to Pine and Bamboo House. Li Yun remained unconscious, face burning red. He called; she only briefly opened her eyes. Her hand was scorching. She might not last until tomorrow. He told Amao, "She is critical. We must find a solution quickly." "What can we do? Our madam has abandoned her." "Why?" "She fears she will not recover, refuses to waste money." "How can that be? I will speak to her." "She is not home." "Where?" "I do not know." Suspecting excuses, Yang Xingyuan took out ten dollars. "Take this, quickly call a doctor." Amao left. Soon Dr. Jiang arrived. After taking the pulse, he said, "She worsens. We should seek another expert." "Whom?" "Best the German doctor Dr. Di Boer from Dongjiaomin Lane. But foreign doctors charge high fees." "As long as she recovers, money is no object." "Then let me introduce." "Good. Please call." Dr. Jiang telephoned, returned. "Dr. Di Boer has no time today. Scheduled for tomorrow at ten." "Cannot he come today?" "He has several surgeries; truly cannot." Yang Xingyuan thought: given her dire state, if no doctor today, tomorrow might be too late. But no choice.
That night, Yang Xingyuan slept poorly. At dawn, he rose. Monk Fapo was coming for the money. Where to get it? Having promised, he must deliver. He decided to use money set aside for his mother. At nine, Fapo arrived. Yang Xingyuan handed him three hundred dollars. Fapo took it, smiling. "Master Yang is a man of his word. I will handle it promptly. You will be reunited with Li Yun today." "I do not understand." "You repaid her debt; she is free. A free person naturally follows you." "Do not misunderstand. I intend only to grant her freedom." "Very well. I proceed." He left.
After Fapo left, Yang Xingyuan took a carriage to Pine and Bamboo House. Entering, he saw Amao standing mournfully. "How is your Seventh Young Miss?" "She... has passed away." It struck like lightning. "How? When I left yesterday, she was alive." "Last night her condition suddenly changed. Before midnight, she... breathed her last." "Where is she?" "Laid out in her room." Yang Xingyuan rushed in. The bed curtains were removed. Li Yun lay stiff, face covered with white cloth. He lifted it. Her face was pallid, eyes shut, lips slightly parted as if about to speak. Tears fell like broken pearls. "Li Yun, Li Yun! I came too late." He leaned over the bed, weeping bitterly.
Just then, Monk Fapo entered. "Master Yang, do not grieve. The dead cannot return. Handle the funeral." Yang Xingyuan wiped tears. "Where is your madam?" Amao said, "She... is hiding." "Hiding? Good, I will find her." Fapo went out, soon returned with a woman in her forties, sallow-faced, wearing a blue cotton shirt. She said, "Master Yang, our Seventh Young Miss has died-her own unfortunate fate. We ask your help with the funeral." "What do you need?" "She worked here, earned us money. We should not shortchange her. A good coffin, proper burial." "Naturally. How much?" "At least a hundred dollars." "Fine, I give you a hundred." "And for clothes?" "Another fifty. Enough?" "Enough." Yang Xingyuan gave her fifty dollars. "Thank you. I will arrange." She left.
Fapo said, "Master Yang, you are benevolent. But such women are heartless. The money may not be used for Li Yun." "We can only leave it. I have done what I can." "The three hundred dollars you gave me yesterday-I have not used it. Now Li Yun is gone, I should return it." He placed the money on the table. "Venerable Master, why? Since I gave it, how can I take back?" "Not so. This repaid Li Yun's debt. She is gone; debt void. It should be returned." "If so, I cannot accept. The debt she owed in life must be repaid. Consider this my repayment." "Since you insist, I have no choice. Let this be your donation to our temple for incense funds." "That is even more inappropriate. We are neither kin nor acquaintances." "Do not refuse. This money is Li Yun's. Now gone, it should be used for her merit. Our temple performs rites for her. Consider it your contribution for sutra recitations." Hearing this, Yang Xingyuan could not refuse further. "Then please chant more sutras for her." "Naturally." He left.
Where are past wanderings now? Amid evening clouds and spring trees, I come from the southern capital to mourn a poetic soul.
Adrift in rivers and lakes, I reminisce old journeys, The jade flute's notes severed in the autumn clouds of Chu.
The tower empty, where have the swallows gone? The west wind rolls up the curtain, thin as the tower itself.
Dust seals the ruined wall, shadows of mementos remain, The small window cold with moonlight buries poetic sorrow.
The next day, Yang Xingyuan went to Pine and Bamboo House. Li Yun's coffin was there. He approached the bier, bowed, wept. After a while, he asked Amao, "When is the funeral?" "Tomorrow." "Where?" "Yongding Gate Outer Cemetery." "Good. I will see her off tomorrow." He sat a while longer, then left.
On the third day, Yang Xingyuan rose early, hired a carriage, went out Yongding Gate. At the charity burial ground, Li Yun's coffin was interred. A fresh grave mound stood in the southeast corner. A short stele read "Tomb of Miss Li Yun." He lingered, thinking they were now separated by life and death, never to meet. Grief overwhelmed him; he wept aloud. After a while, he scooped earth as incense, bowed before the grave, then walked away, glancing back repeatedly.
The silkworm spins until death, its thread exhausted; The candle melts to ashes, its tears finally dry.