Explore Chapter 3 of 'The Story of the Golden Powder Family' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
By this time, Xizhen was already some distance away. Second Miss Wu likewise made haste to depart. Yanxi followed her all the way down the corridor, calling, "I really do have something to tell you." As he spoke, he glanced ahead and saw Xizhen had already rounded the corner of the winding gallery. "Did you see my note?" he asked. Second Miss Wu tittered, "What note? I didn't see any." "Don't play the fool," Yanxi retorted. "If you hadn't seen it, why would you have come?" "I merely introduced Miss Qiu so she could borrow books from you," she replied. "How did she know I had movie magazines?" "How should I know?" she said with a laugh. Then, with a mischievous glint, she raised her pale arms, clenched her hands into little fists, and propped them against her left cheek, letting out a silvery, tinkling laugh. Seeing her thus, Yanxi smiled and said, "Come sit in my room for a while. I have things to say to you." Second Miss Wu gave Yanxi a gentle push with her hand. "I'll tell Miss Bai that you're fond of making friends with young ladies." Yanxi seized her hands. "Even if I make friends, she can't very well interfere." Snatching her hands back to her chest, Second Miss Wu turned and fled. Instead of following the gallery, she stepped over the low railing and slipped behind a cluster of flower trellises. A large electric lamp was fixed upon one of the trellises. In its light, Yanxi saw her press three fingers of her right hand to her lips in a sign of secrecy, then flip her hand in a playful, dismissive wave toward him before she whirled around and ran through the gate into the inner courtyard.
Yanxi stood with one hand resting on a wooden pillar of the corridor, the other thrust into his trouser pocket, staring vacantly toward the inner courtyard. Suddenly, a voice called from behind him, "Old Seven, what are you doing standing here all by yourself?" Yanxi turned to see his eldest brother, Jin Fengju. "Sitting in my room was making me dizzy," he explained. "I came out for a breath of fresh air." "Lies roll off your tongue," Fengju said. "If it's air you want, your own doorway opens onto a large courtyard, far more spacious than this spot. Why come here? A moment ago, I saw the shadow of a woman flash by, followed by the click of leather shoes. Wasn't someone just here talking with you?" "Since you saw it plainly, why bother asking?" Yanxi countered. "Let me speak frankly," Fengju said. "I advise you not to associate with the two Wu sisters. Their nickname, I must say, is not particularly savory." "What nickname?" Yanxi asked. "I've never heard of one." "I needn't tell you. If I did, you'd surely accuse me of spreading rumors." "She's nothing special to me," Yanxi protested. "Why would I defend her so? Go on, what's her nickname?" "Do you really not know at all?" "Of course not. If I knew, why would I ask you?" Fengju gave a faint smile. "Her nickname is truly rather crude. They call her..." "Call her what?" "Aiyah! It's unpleasant to say aloud. They call her the 'soiled sisters.'" Upon hearing this, a pang of loss, sharp and sudden, struck Yanxi in the chest. "That sounds unreliable," he said. "I can't believe it." "I knew you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Fengju sighed. "No wonder-so the saying goes, 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'-especially a besotted one. But in truth, if you were to investigate Miss Wu's family circumstances carefully, you'd see there's a basis for such talk. Just think: her father holds only a minor post. The monthly automobile expenses for the two sisters alone must consume a large portion of his income. Could he possibly afford to let them gad about social circles day and night, spending so extravagantly? One can infer from this that the money they flaunt certainly doesn't come from their family purse. And if the money isn't from home... well, the rest goes without saying. I see your feelings for her aren't yet too deep, so I'm telling you honestly. Otherwise, I wouldn't breathe a word." Though Yanxi inwardly resisted this judgment, the reasons his brother laid out were substantial. "Everyone has their secrets," he argued. "How can outsiders truly know? Besides, if what you say is true, why didn't you stop today's gathering? It was your wife who played hostess." "I didn't know about it beforehand," Fengju said. "And even if I had, I wouldn't have stopped her. She has invited your sister-in-law several times now. My advice is to return the courtesy promptly and then reduce your interactions. That's why I often say: it's harmless enough for a few acquaintances to listen to opera or play a hand of cards. But once you're caught in the whirlpool of high society, the spending is the least of it. Your days and nights turn topsy-turvy, and your health simply can't withstand it. From what I've heard, those social butterflies-unless they employ methods like the Wu sisters-all end up in debt. Just the other day, the eldest daughter of the He family secretly brought some jewelry to your sister-in-law, asking her to sell it. The pieces were worth nearly three thousand, yet she said she'd part with them for two. Think on it: what a respectable family the Hes are. For their eldest daughter to be pawning her jewelry privately, how desperate her debts must be! If women are in such straits, imagine the men!" "Is this true?" Yanxi asked. "If you don't believe me, go ask your sister-in-law," Fengju replied. "It's not that I disbelieve you," Yanxi said. "It's just that I saw her hosting a grand banquet at the Xilai Hotel only yesterday. That single meal must have cost four or five hundred dollars. If she's so hard-pressed, why squander money like that?" "Precisely because of such behavior that the debts snowball," Fengju concluded. Yanxi fell to pondering the karmic retribution that led people to such ends. Seeing Yanxi lower his head in silence, Fengju turned and went on his way toward the rear of the house. When Yanxi looked up, his brother was gone. He, too, retired to his own quarters.
Back in his room, his thoughts turned to the girl from Falling Flowers Lane. His elder brother's words, he mused, held some truth. If one merely sought female companionship, the modern women of high society were naturally preferable. But to take a lifelong partner, someone to manage the household, a simpler, more modest sort was undoubtedly better. If I were to marry that girl, he thought, her affection would surely be pure and unwavering, her temperament gentle-utterly unlike those society ladies who not only resent any interference in their own affairs but insist on meddling in yours. And as for beauty, that natural grace surpasses the painted glamour conjured from the powder and rouge of the social set. Yes, he decided. This is the way to proceed.
His mind thus made up, he rang the bell and summoned Jin Rong. "I've a chance for you to pocket a tidy little sum," he announced. "Do you think you can manage it?" Jin Rong grinned. "Who would turn down a chance to make money?" "I know you'd take it," Yanxi said. "I'm asking if you can actually pull it off." "I dare not promise blindly," Jin Rong replied cautiously. "I must beg your instruction first." "I want the house at Number Twelve, Circle Lane. Find a middleman and buy it for me." "Seventh Young Master, you must be joking!" Jin Rong exclaimed. "What would you want with that house?" "Do I look like I'm joking? Just buy it for me. How much do you suppose it costs?" "How could I know?" Jin Rong said. "I don't even know which way it faces, or how large it is." Yanxi realized his question had been rash and smiled. "I seem to recall mentioning it to you. Never mind. Go take a look first thing tomorrow morning and report back to me." "From whom did you hear the house was for sale?" Jin Rong asked with a knowing chuckle. "I haven't heard from anyone." "Did you see an advertisement in the papers, then?" "No." "If not that, and not the other, how do you know the house is for sale at all?" "I don't know," Yanxi admitted. "I simply want to buy it." "My dear young master!" Jin Rong cried. "How can you think everything in this world is so easily obtained? This isn't some trinket in a shop that you can just pick up and purchase. If the owner has no intention of selling, how am I to ask his price?" "The place looked empty to me," Yanxi insisted. "If it's not for sale, it must be for rent. Go and inquire. You can't go wrong." Jin Rong bowed his head in thought. Why would the young master suddenly want to acquire assets? It made no sense... Ah! Of course. That place was very close to Falling Flowers Lane. No doubt he wanted to be neighbors with that girl. A sly smile spread across his face. "I believe I've guessed what's in your heart," he said. "You wish to buy a house there for your upcoming 'happy event.' But you know, there's still a whole lane between that spot and Falling Flowers Lane." Yanxi smiled. "Never you mind. Just do as I say." Jin Rong leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Naturally, this is a private purchase, to be kept secret. But... have you prepared the necessary cash?" "I'll handle my own affairs," Yanxi said dismissively. "Spare me your worries. I've told you to buy the house, so go and buy it. The rest is none of your concern." Not daring to provoke further rebuke, Jin Rong agreed and withdrew.
The next day, acting on Yanxi's orders, Jin Rong made his way to Number Twelve, Circle Lane to inspect the property. Arriving at the gate, he found the two large doors shut fast, with no 'For Rent' notice posted. Peering through the crack between them, he saw only a desolate, empty expanse within, utterly devoid of life. Listening quietly for a time, he heard not a sound; it seemed a veritable ruin. He hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. Reasoning that the door was bolted from the inside, someone must be within. He decided to call out and gave the door several knocks. Presently, he heard a fit of coughing from inside, intermittent and growing nearer, accompanied by the slow, shuffling tread of footsteps. At the door, the bolt rattled, and one panel swung slowly inward. Jin Rong saw a head emerge-a face like withered wax, smeared with tears and snivel, from within a shaggy beard issued a hoarse, aged voice: "Who are you looking for?" Jin Rong offered an apologetic smile. "I've come to see about the house." "This house isn't for rent," the old man declared, and began to withdraw his head. Afraid he would shut the door, Jin Rong quickly inserted his foot and stepped inside. "But the place is empty, isn't it? Why not rent it out?" "If the master doesn't wish to rent it, he doesn't," the old man retorted. "Why do you keep asking?" Seeing the man was a stubborn old fellow, Jin Rong knew better than to press him directly. He pulled two cigarettes from his pocket and offered one. "Have a smoke." The old man accepted it. "Need a light?" he asked, fishing in his own pocket. He produced a few matches, struck one, and lit Jin Rong's cigarette. "Much obliged," Jin Rong said, drawing on the smoke. The old man then lit his own. "What is your honorable surname?" Jin Rong inquired. "They call me Old Li. I'm just the caretaker." "I thought as much," Jin Rong said. "This sort of duty requires an elderly, trustworthy soul. Is there anyone else here?" "No one else. Just me." "You have remarkable patience. You've been watching over the place for quite some time?" "That I have! Going on over two months now." As they spoke, Jin Rong walked further inside. He found himself in a large main courtyard, divided by a whitewashed wall. A locust tree stood on either side of the division. The house itself had a spacious corridor, but the paint was peeling and decay was everywhere. Passing through this courtyard, he came upon covered walkways on either side, a rockery in the center facing the main quarters, two small trees, and a grape arbor. Turning left and right from here led to two side wings. Behind these wings grew a dozen or so trees of varying heights, all a lush, somber green that cast the entire yard into deep, damp shadow. The grass on the ground had grown three or four feet tall, reaching a man's waist. Amidst the grass, piles of refuse and broken tiles lay scattered everywhere. The place was, in truth, a forsaken ruin. From the dense thickets of weed rose a faint, dank odor of decay that caught in the throat. From front to back, the property showed not a single sign of vitality. Jin Rong was deeply puzzled. Aside from the trees, nothing here could possibly appeal to his young master's tastes. Why was he so determined to buy it? After a general survey, Jin Rong surmised the owner must be a man of means, planning to rebuild on the land. Why else hold onto such a dilapidated pile? He turned back to the old man. "Why won't the master rent it out?" "He means to rebuild it for his own use," came the reply. "When will work begin?" "Who's to say?" The old man's tone hinted at annoyance. Jin Rong felt in his pocket and produced two small banknotes. "I've troubled you," he said, handing them over. "Take this for a pot of tea at a local dive bar." "Such nonsense!" the old man protested, even as he rubbed his bony hands together, his eyes fixed on the notes with undisguised pleasure. Jin Rong seized the moment to press the money into his palm. The old man pocketed it, his face breaking into a smile. "I was sent here by Squire Wang, the rent collector. I've never even met the owner myself. If you want to know more, you'll have to find Squire Wang. He's been coming around often these past few days. When he's here, he usually kills time at the dive bar at the lane entrance. You'll find him there for certain." "But how will I recognize him?" "Easy enough to spot," the old man said. "A face pitted with drinker's blotches, a great red nose, around thirty years of age, and he speaks with a Shandong accent. At that dive bar, you won't find another fellow like him." Just then, a series of light, jingling bells sounded-the sort carried by an itinerant coppersmith. The noise seemed to come from just beyond the compound wall, probably from a small alleyway. "What lies beyond this wall?" Jin Rong asked. "That's Falling Flowers Lane," the old man replied. Comprehension dawned on Jin Rong. Our young master, he thought, has considered this with remarkable thoroughness. He must have surveyed this entire property, from the front gate to the back wall. Now that he's fixed upon this foolish scheme, he likely won't rest until the house is his. The old man spoke again: "You're asking all these questions because you want to rent the place?" Jin Rong gave a vague assent. "I am. But if the owner plans to rebuild, I suppose renting is out of the question." "It needn't be," the old man said, lowering his voice. "Just... apply a little grease to Squire Wang's palm. We're both men working for others. You understand how these things are done." Jin Rong nodded knowingly with a smile and made to leave through the main gate. "If you come again," the old man called after him, "just knock. I'm here from dawn till dusk." Jin Rong knew the power of those few banknotes well. He departed with a contented smile.
His mind made up to see the matter through, he decided to go directly to the dive bar for a drink, hoping to glean when Squire Wang might appear.
As fortune would have it, within half an hour, a man with a face flushed and pitted from drink walked in. Jin Rong saw he matched the old caretaker's description perfectly. As soon as the man entered, Jin Rong rose courteously to invite him over. Seeing Jin Rong's manner, the man guessed he was a fellow 'man of business' and gave a nod of acknowledgment. "Is your honorable surname Wang?" Jin Rong asked. "That's right. I'm Wang Desheng. Do we know each other?" "I feel as if we've met somewhere before," Jin Rong said amiably, "though I can't quite recall." He motioned for Wang Desheng to join him and promptly ordered a pot of strong white liquor for him. Wang Desheng, delighted at being treated to a drink, took it as a sign of Jin Rong's sincere desire to cultivate his friendship. After a perfunctory show of modesty, he settled in comfortably. "There's a small matter I'd like to inquire about," Jin Rong began. "The house at Number Twelve, Circle Lane-does it belong to your esteemed employer?" "It does." "It's standing empty at the moment. Why not rent it out?" "The owner intends to tear it down and rebuild." "I had heard as much. But how long will it remain vacant? Whether rented after it's rebuilt or rented as it is, it still brings in money. If someone wished to rent it now, it seems to me it would be better to let it out." "There's sense in that," Wang Desheng conceded. "But the owner has his own calculations. How are we to know his mind?" "My employer," Jin Rong explained, "has some urgent business requiring a base in Circle Lane, and there's simply no other suitable property available at the moment. Since your house happens to be vacant, he is very keen to lease it. As for the rent, that can be easily negotiated." Wang Desheng considered this. Clearly, this man's master had some pressing need for the property. "My employer owns plenty of houses," he said. "A little rental income is of no great concern to him." "Between us brothers in the trade," Jin Rong said, leaning in confidentially, "let's not mince words. I suspect you, Squire Wang, can decide most of this on your employer's behalf. If you can arrange things, it's sure to go through. Failing that... well, the house is in a rather sorry state. If your employer were willing to sell outright, the price could be settled fairly. It's of little consequence." Wang Desheng was taken aback that he had now escalated from renting to buying. Could it be there was some treasure hidden in this ruin? Why this desperate desire? He sidestepped the matter of the house and began, slowly and deliberately, to probe Jin Rong about who his employer was, whether this was for a wedding, and so on, questioning him exhaustively from start to finish. Realizing that without full disclosure Wang Desheng would treat this as nothing but a lucrative speculation and an agreement would never be reached, Jin Rong decided to come clean. He explained that it was his young master who wished to live there, his goal being to take a girl from the neighborhood as a mistress. Having downed several cups, Wang Desheng was growing tipsy. With a knowing chuckle, he asked, "Might I inquire which family the young lady belongs to?" "I couldn't say precisely," Jin Rong replied. "But she lives quite close by." Wang Desheng thought for a moment, then his face lit up with a grin. "Oh! I see. It must be the young lady from the Leng Residence in Falling Flowers Lane. She's the prettiest thing in these two lanes. And the house she lives in belongs to my employer as well. No wonder your young master has set his heart on this place. Since it's the Jin family wishing to buy, and money is no object... if you're willing to pay a handsome price, I don't see why I shouldn't advise my employer to sell." "And what figure do you have in mind?" Jin Rong asked. "It would have to be over ten thousand, I should think." Jin Rong laughed. "That house is practically useless; all that's left is the land. How can it be worth so much?" "Under ordinary circumstances," Wang Desheng said, "it might fetch four or five thousand at most. But here we have one party eager to buy and another unwilling to sell. A premium is only natural. Besides, this is just me talking off the cuff. I've no idea what my employer truly thinks." Seeing he had made some headway, Jin Rong pressed his advantage. They agreed to meet again at the same spot the next morning, each having consulted his respective master. After settling the wine tab, Jin Rong returned home and recounted the entire affair to Yanxi from beginning to end.
Yanxi was overjoyed. He immediately ordered Jin Rong to have the automobile brought around and, taking Jin Rong with him, drove straight to Circle Lane to inspect the property himself. Yanxi looked the place over once and had to admit the building was dreadfully old. But when he reached the back garden and gazed over at the neighboring wall, a sudden smile touched his lips, as if he had remembered something delightful. He then led Jin Rong on a detour to the rear of the property along Falling Flowers Lane and observed for a while. Sure enough, the row of trees he had seen the other evening belonged to this very back garden. This house stood flush against the wall of the Leng Residence. On the side of the Leng Residence gate, he recalled, there had been a boundary marker. Looking now, he found it precisely at the corner where the walls met. The inscription on that stone and the one at the base of this wall were identical: both bore the characters for the boundary marker of the Sanhuai Hall, the Leng family's ancestral hall. Yanxi turned to Jin Rong with a triumphant smile. "That fellow Wang claimed the Leng Residence is also his. This proves it. Tell him I'll take both." "For that dilapidated wreck he's asking ten thousand," Jin Rong cautioned. "The other side, though small, is in decent repair. Won't that run another three or four thousand at least?" "Don't you go pinching pennies on my account," Yanxi retorted. "Just see that the business is concluded properly." Having seen the place, Yanxi was in high spirits. Turning the matter over in his mind, he calculated: let's offer ten thousand for the lot. It's probably worth six or seven at most, so the loss is negligible-like dropping a hefty sum at the gaming tables. He seemed to remember his passbook held six or seven thousand. Borrowing another three or four wouldn't be any trouble. The matter was as good as settled. After his inspection and his calculations, he returned home in the best of moods, ignoring all else and heading straight for his bedroom to take stock of his finances. But when he retrieved the passbook from the small security trunk beneath his bed, his heart sank: it showed a little over two thousand. He was baffled. How had he managed to spend so much? He reviewed the entries from beginning to end, and the sums seemed to match up well enough. Just then, a faint scraping sound came from the glass window. He glanced up sharply to see a flash of floral fabric outside. "Who's there?" he called. A laughing voice answered from beyond the pane, "It's me." "Xiaolian!" Yanxi smiled. "Come in. I've something to tell you." "I won't come in," she replied. "What is it?" "It's really important. Do come in." "How convenient!" she teased. "The moment I show up, you have something important. What if I hadn't come? Who would you have gotten to do it then?" "If you don't believe me, so be it," Yanxi sighed with mock resignation. "I'll manage myself." "Is it truly important?" she relented. "Fine, I'm coming in. It's not as if you can eat me alive." Laughing, she stepped inside. Yanxi saw she was wearing a new long gown of Indian cloth, white with a pattern of blue bamboo leaves. "Good heavens, you gave me a start!" he exclaimed. "For a moment I thought the Goddess of Mercy herself had descended from the Southern Sea." Xiaolian beamed. "This is my new dress. Do you like it?" "I do! Very much indeed! Didn't I just say you looked like the Bodhisattva Guanyin?" "You're making fun of me," she pouted. "That's no compliment." "Don't move," Yanxi said, rising with a playful grin. "Let me have a proper look." He stood up and tilted his head, pretending to scrutinize her from head to toe with exaggerated care. "I knew you had nothing serious," Xiaolian declared. With that, she turned on her heel to flee. Yanxi caught hold of her sleeve. "I do, really! Don't run off." He picked up the passbook he had tossed onto the sofa and handed it to her. "Do me a great favor and check these accounts for me, will you? Make sure there's no mistake." "Why don't you do it yourself?" "I'm terribly careless," he pleaded. "All those odd cents and dimes give me a headache; I can't be bothered. But if you leave them out, the total never adds up. I know your mind is the most meticulous. Please, check it for me." Xiaolian gave a coy wink with her left eye and pursed her lips. "Enough of your sweet talk." "How odd!" Yanxi exclaimed, taking her hand. "Where did you pick up such a phrase? And why would I butter you up?" Xiaolian pulled her hand free. "Stop fooling around. What would people think if they saw? Do you want me to check it or not? If you do, sit over there and don't move a muscle. If not, I'm leaving." She turned her body toward the door, poised for flight. Yanxi rushed forward to block her way, arms spread wide. "Don't go! Please don't go! I'll sit quietly right here and let you work in peace. Will that do?" "It will," she agreed. She sat down at the table and began calculating the entries in the passbook one by one with pen and paper. As she worked, she kept stealing glances at Yanxi to see if he stirred. Yanxi merely smiled back. The moment he shifted his weight, Xiaolian threw down the pen and darted away. Once safely outside the window, she called back, "I knew you'd try something!" "I asked you to check the accounts!" Yanxi protested from within the room. "Why run off before you're finished?" "I am finished!" she replied. "There are no errors." "Well, what's the total?" "It's written plainly in the passbook. Why ask me?" With that, she was gone. "That girl," Yanxi muttered to himself. "She loves to tease, but the moment you respond, off she runs. The very picture of coquettish affectation. One of these days I really must teach her a lesson!" He looked up with a start to find Zhang Shun standing before him, and felt a flush rise unbidden to his cheeks. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Didn't you call for me, Seventh Young Master?" Zhang Shun asked. "Who called for you?" "You're still pressing the bell," Zhang Shun pointed out with a polite smile. Yanxi looked down. Indeed, his hand was resting on the electric bell-push. He laughed awkwardly. "I was calling for Jin Rong." "But you sent him out, Seventh Young Master," Zhang Shun reminded him. "Oh. Never mind, then," Yanxi dismissed him. Baffled, Zhang Shun withdrew. Yanxi picked up the passbook and studied the figure once more. This amount, he thought, falls far too short of what's needed. How am I to buy the house now? Only two options remain: the first is to arrange an overdraft at the bank; the second is to borrow the sum in bits and pieces. The first might well meet with refusal. Better to pursue the second. His mind thus resolved, he set about implementing his second plan.