The Complete Book of One Hundred Women - 6

The hailstones crashed down the tomb; they swollen Wang Da's head; they stunned the shaman; they forced everyone to scramble into the cramped little house, so much so that no one remembered Yao Niang kneeling before the tombstone anymore.
Huge hailstones pelted Yao Niang's body, shoulders, and the inkstone she held, one after another. Completely numb with fear of death, Yao Niang felt no pain, remaining kneeling blankly before the tombstone, seemingly waiting for something—perhaps waiting for death. A perfectly round hailstone struck
Yao Niang squarely on the forehead with a thud. The intense pain jolted her awake: "I've gone mad! Still kneeling here waiting to die? This is a golden opportunity! If I don't run now, when will I?"
There was no time for Yao Niang to think things through. She stood up and, braving the hailstorm, ran wildly without knowing which direction to take. Strangely enough, even Yao Niang herself couldn't understand why, as she ran, the hailstones only whizzed past her ears without hitting her. The faster Yao Niang ran, the louder the sound of the hailstones became, the crisp sound of the hailstones encouraging the girl: Run, run, you're free! Run! Escape this man-eating wolf's den! She
ran for an unknown distance, and for an unknown amount of time. Yao Niang ran tirelessly, and before she knew it, the hailstorm stopped, a cool breeze brushed her ears, and a faint milky white appeared in the east—dawn had broken!
Yao Niang slowed down, looking around blankly. Wow, she was startled. This place was so familiar, as if she had seen it somewhere before, as if she had been here sometime before. Oh, I remember now, it was a dream! Look, that tree, it's the same one I often see in my dreams; that grass, it's the same one I see in my dreams; and the little bird singing love songs, the little fish in love, and the frog in the roadside puddle, blinking its bulging round eyes, staring at me with unfathomable eyes! Everything is exactly the same as what I saw in my dream. "What?" Yao Niang wondered to herself: "Am I dreaming again?"
The sky gradually brightened. Surrounded by this dreamlike wonderland, the girl was both excited and nervous, momentarily losing her sense of direction: "Which way should I go?"
Neigh—neigh—neigh—, the braying of a donkey came from not far away. Yao Niang stopped, looking left and right, unconsciously moving closer to the sound. The knee-high grass rustled, a cool morning breeze brushed against her weary face, and carried the mouthwatering aroma of cooking: "Who's cooking? I'm so hungry!"
The unbearable hunger compelled Yao Niang to move towards the rising smoke. She walked through the woods, parted the tall grass, and found a simple thatched hut in a clearing. A flickering fire burned in front of it, and an elderly woman with white hair squatted beside the stove, shakily scooping a bowl of rice porridge from the pot. She then stood up, her steps faltering, and walked towards the familiar old locust tree: "Son, the rice is ready. Eat it while it's hot!"
"Mother, you eat first!"
"You eat. Listen to your mother. You eat first. You still need to study hard and make sure you get enough nutrition. I'm old and useless now. What's the point of eating idle food?"
It was him! Yao Niang looked in the direction of the voice and saw the bookish boy she had seen in her dream sitting under the old locust tree, holding an ancient scroll. He was offering rice porridge to his old mother. "It's you!"
Yao Niang forgot her hunger, her exhaustion, her shyness, and the danger that was still there. She forgot everything, still as if in a dream, and cried out uncontrollably. She rushed out of the bushes, her tired eyes staring straight at the scholar. "You, it's you, you were here all along!"
The scholar was quite surprised to see a young woman suddenly appear in the desolate wilderness, staring at him intently. Seeing that the girl was dressed as a maid, her hair disheveled, travel-worn, and her lips chapped, an embarrassed but kind smile appeared on the scholar's slightly sickly face. He turned the bowl of porridge that his old mother had offered to the girl and asked with concern, "Miss, you must be thirsty and hungry. Here, drink this bowl of thin porridge to quench your thirst and warm yourself up!"
"Thank you," the girl said, exhausted and hungry after running all night. She nodded gratefully. The scholar before her was about her age, slender, with fair skin, dressed simply but neatly, his expression kind and quick-witted, his tone humble yet retaining the dignity of a cultured man. As she looked at him, the girl exclaimed inwardly: What an ideal handsome man! He is the one I've been dreaming of day and night, that, that person...
"Thank you," the girl said, lost in thought. The bowl of porridge was placed before her. She reached out to take it, only to realize that she was still clutching the inkstone that had been buried with her. Yao Niang was quite annoyed and decided to throw it into the bushes. Suddenly turning her head, she made another unexpected discovery: in the cramped shed, on a small square table, lay a broken inkstone. Intuitively, she sensed the young man was a scholar seeking officialdom, and it seemed his life was rather impoverished. For a bowl of porridge, the mother and daughter politely declined. "I'm an outsider," Yao Niang thought, "I can't just drink their hot porridge for free." In exchange, she handed the inkstone to the scholar: "Sir, I'll exchange this inkstone for your porridge!"
"Why bother?" the scholar replied. "Meeting here means we were destined to meet in a past life. A bowl of thin porridge is nothing to worry about! Miss, you're overthinking it." His eyes were fixed on the inkstone, unable to look away. As Yao Niang took the hot porridge, the scholar happily accepted the inkstone, carefully stroking it: "A genuine Huizhou inkstone, absolutely genuine!"
"Young lady, where have you come from?" A beautiful young woman appeared out of nowhere. The white-haired old woman was startled at first, but hearing the conversation between the young woman and her son, she came closer, her dim old eyes gazing at the young woman with delight: "What a lovely girl! How beautiful she is!"
The young woman didn't answer the old woman's question. She picked up her bowl of porridge and hurriedly ate it. With food in her stomach, she felt much more at ease. Putting down the porcelain bowl, the young woman sat by the fire. Under the old woman's kind gaze, she briefly but truthfully recounted her impoverished background. The mother and son felt deep sympathy. The young woman also learned that the mother and son were on their way to the capital to take the imperial examinations. Unable to afford an inn, they had led their only donkey, carrying their bedding and other belongings, on a bumpy journey, enduring wind and rain, sleeping outdoors. Their exhaustion and hardship could fill a book.
As the old woman recounted her journey to the capital, she gazed at and stroked the young woman's face. From the old woman's eager gaze, Yao Niang guessed that the old woman intended for her to become her daughter-in-law; this was also Yao Niang's dream and desire. Today, she had finally met the honest and upright scholar. So, she took the old woman's arm and called out affectionately, "Mother," and then Yao Niang knelt down before the old woman's knees with a thud: "Yao Niang has a tragic fate. Although born into a prestigious family, my birth chart is unlucky. In my childhood, my family was taken away, and I was reduced to a lowly commoner, treated like livestock. I was even almost made a sacrificial offering. Now, I have been fortunate enough to escape and have met you and your son. Old Mother, I wish to recognize you as my godmother and accompany you to the capital! After daybreak, the Prince's Mansion will surely send people to chase after us. Mother, take me away! I must leave this place as soon as possible!"
"My poor daughter, what are you doing? Get up, get up, get up quickly! Pack your things, we're all going to the capital together, hehe!"
On his way to the capital for the imperial examinations, Ban'er not only gained a beautiful daughter-in-law but also returned laden with jewels and jade. The old lady was overjoyed, her mouth agape. She hurriedly ordered her son to dismantle the tent, pack their bags, and gave the little donkey to Yao Niang. So, the old lady hobbled along, chattering incessantly; the scholar, carrying his treasure bag, remained silent; Yao Niang rode on the donkey's back, overjoyed; and the little donkey neighed and clattered, the three of them setting off towards the bright red sunrise! After
the rain, the sun rose, and the scholar cooked in the woods.
Yao Niang offered her inkstone for breakfast, and the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law embarked on their journey.
"The Lady of the Book of Documents says," "
Slaves and maids are ranked at the very bottom of the nine classes of people. Their lowly and despicable state is evident from this. The sources of slaves and maids are varied, but this is an academic matter, not our area of study. Once reduced to slavery, not only do they lose their personal freedom, but their life and death are entirely in the hands of their masters. In the Middle Ages, a master killing a slave was as easy as slaughtering a pig, without violating any criminal law; while if a slave dared to assault any nobleman, the government would behead them upon the nobleman's request. Alas, how unequal!" In daily life, the slaves were subjected to all sorts of servitude, abuse, and humiliation—a common occurrence, needless to say.
Thus, in order to survive and eke out a few days, all slaves would use every trick in the book to please their masters, losing all dignity and self-respect. Their base behavior was no different from that of a lapdog wagging its tail for mercy. Thus, the world has idioms and allusions such as "servile and obsequious" and "servile and fawning."
Yao Niang also unfortunately became a slave, but she refused to bow to misfortune or submit to tyranny. Her stubborn and steadfast will is truly admirable. After tireless struggle, the girl, who had been repeatedly sold, not only remained chaste but also unexpectedly escaped the den of wolves and tigers, regained her freedom, and found a suitable husband, starting a new life. It was truly the will of heaven! The Heroic

Woman

from "A Hundred Women's Chronicle
" (Chapter 1) In early spring in Shu, the waters flowed gently, and Wenjun, newly widowed, returned to her hometown. Her father hosted guests at the table, while her daughter chose her lover behind the screen. Wang, drunk, recited a distorted poem, while Sima Xiangru played the zither to express his heartfelt feelings. From then on, they shared the poem "White-Haired Lament," vowing to be lifelong lovers. The first chapter tells of Zhuo Wangsun's boudoir banquet for officials. Wang Jishan intended to take Zhuo Wenjun, a young woman from Shu, as a concubine. She was intelligent and learned, beautiful and talented, forthright and fiery. Of course, in her personal life, she was unrestrained and romantic, reportedly very fond of drinking, especially heavy drinking, and had no record of ever getting drunk. However, as the saying goes, beautiful women often have tragic fates. In the early days of their marriage, although the groom wasn't entirely satisfied, they were deeply in love, stroking each other's hair, whispering sweet nothings, drinking intimately, like fish in water. Unexpectedly, less than ten days later, the groom suddenly fell ill and died. The old woman already harbored some prejudice against this fiery, drinking woman, and secretly consulted a blind fortune teller. The blind man immediately declared: this woman not only possessed masculine personality traits, but her birth chart also indicated she was destined to bring misfortune to her husband! And so, the blind man's prophecy came true. After burying her son who had died suddenly, the old woman stomped her feet in anger as she looked at the young widow in the bridal chamber: "That little slut! From the day she married into the family, she clung to my son relentlessly! What, you don't believe me? Humph, I saw it all with my own eyes through the crack in the door! What a little vixen! What a shameless thing! Look at her, her shameless appearance! Oh, how can I, an old woman, even say it? A woman with no sense of shame whatsoever! Her desires in that area are so intense! She clings to my son and won't let go! Her moans and groans are enough to send chills down your spine! Her little bottom wiggles so happily, her little feet kicking and thumping the bamboo mat like drums! Oh my god, it's so disgusting! How can anyone bear to look at her like that? Three kicks, two kicks, and finally, the little vixen drained my son of his life force, exhausting my precious son to death!" Ah, and there she is, no more kicking, no more wiggling of her little bottom, and no more moaning—she's wilted like a frost-bitten eggplant! Hmph, thinking of this, the old woman's withered lips suddenly tightened, and with a snap, she bit down on her last half-tooth. The old woman wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, about to unleash her fury on her daughter-in-law, but then she thought again: she was penniless and couldn't afford to offend her in-law, Zhuo Wangsun, a renowned and wealthy man. Helpless, the old woman sighed and silently swallowed the broken tooth, then used sweet words to persuade Zhuo Wenjun to return to her parents' home. When Wenjun returned to her parents' home, her wealthy father, Zhuo Wangsun, personally came out to greet her. Looking at his newly widowed daughter, Zhuo Wangsun felt a mix of emotions. Before Wenjun returned to her hometown, rumors about her being unlucky in marriage had already drifted into the Zhuo family mansion on the chilly spring breeze, swirling with withered branches and fallen leaves, rustling throughout the courtyard, much like a group of gossipy, haggard women. Surrounded by a crowd, the newly widowed woman entered the familiar and warm mansion where she had been raised. She gracefully approached her room, which she had left only half a month ago. Touching the doorframe, Wenjun was overwhelmed with emotion; her nose tingled, and tears welled up in her eyes. Seeing this, her father stepped forward and whispered, "You're so nostalgic, daughter. If you want to forget the past as soon as possible, change your surroundings and move to another room!" " No, I won't stay anywhere else! I'll stay here! This is my little world!" In front of her father, Wenjun was always a willful and immature girl. She wiped away her tears, pushed open the door to her room, and suddenly, a pungent odor hit her. The young widow covered her nose, looking displeased, and asked her father, "Dad, why is my room so messy? What happened?" “My dear daughter, um,” Zhuo Wangsun, a wealthy and powerful man who always commanded respect, smiled and spoke humbly in front of his fiery daughter. Under Wenjun’s piercing gaze, the wealthy man stammered, “This, this…” It turned out that after Wenjun’s marriage, Zhuo Wangsun, though incredibly rich, was notoriously stingy. He felt it was a waste to leave his daughter’s room unused. To make it useful again, the shrewd tycoon converted it into a reception room. The original reception room was too small and rather shabby, unbecoming of his status; it was more suitable as a storage room. His daughter’s room was not only spacious and bright but also elegantly decorated, antique and full of cultural charm. Using it to receive guests would not only make him look good but also showcase his own culture—a win-win situation! As a result, Miss Wenjun’s boudoir, her little world, her own private haven, suffered. Look at this! The once-scented boudoir, once filled with the fragrance of books, is now stained with smoke and fire. The calligraphy and paintings on the walls are covered in grease, and the precious books are dusty and grimy. The spacious room reeks of greasy oil. The young widow frowns, while her father, with a forced smile, explains, "Daughter, well, well, since you got married, these rooms have been empty. I thought, since they're empty anyway, why not use them to entertain guests? You know, your father doesn't have much money, but he's famous, and I have a lot of guests, almost every day. So, I've made these rooms so dirty and messy. I think you should stay somewhere else. I'll have the servants clean up a room for you right away!" Seeing her little haven being used by her father to entertain guests and trampled beyond recognition, the heartbroken girl, in a fit of stubbornness, refused to stay anywhere else. Helpless, Zhuo Wangsun had no choice but to order the servants to clean up the room so his daughter could rest as soon as possible. Zhuo Wangsun directed his servants to tidy up his daughter's room, doing everything possible to restore it to its original state amidst her grumbling. The steward quietly arrived and whispered something in the master's ear, immediately plunging the wealthy man into worry: "I almost forgot, there's a banquet at noon today! The invitations were sent out yesterday, clearly stating: 'Lunch in the reception hall!'" Left with no other option, Zhuo Wangsun consulted his daughter. Wenjun, being very understanding, agreed to hold the banquet in her room to avoid putting her father in a difficult position. However, Wenjun still refused to leave her own little world, leading to another discussion between father and daughter. Finally, they reached an agreement: a row of screens would be placed on the east side of the living room, near the entrance to her bedroom, to block the view of her room and allow Wenjun to avoid it. Without hesitation, the father immediately arranged for the servants to move the screen. Wenjun entered her bedroom, brushed the faint dust off the sheets, and sat alone on the cold bed, gazing out the window. The heavens seemed to have gone mad; for days, the sky had been perpetually overcast, a dark gray that evoked endless sorrow. This made the newly widowed woman even more melancholic. The scenery outside was so desolate and decaying, the cold wind howling and whistling against the walls, stirring up her emotions. Alas, from now on, this gloomy sky will be the beginning of my tedious and boring life! This eerie wind is the gossip of the idle people from the streets and villages, talking about me—it's incredibly annoying, yet there's no way to escape them! Alas, this isn't life; it's torture! "Master, please, have some!"

Wenjun was silently cursing the seemingly endless, tedious life that was about to begin when she heard her father toasting guests outside the bedroom. The young woman turned around, and a screen suddenly appeared at the doorway. Through the thin silk gauze, the figures moving in the living room were vaguely visible. Unable to bear the loneliness, Wenjun walked lightly out of the inner room: What kind of guests is Father inviting? Are there any handsome unmarried men? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the young widow trembled, feeling a strange excitement. Oh my god, how shameful! The young widow's face flushed, and she cursed herself inwardly: Her husband's body is not cold yet, and she can't stand the loneliness and thinks of men. How pathetic!
An enticing aroma of wine wafted in, followed by the polite voices of strange men. The young widow finally couldn't resist and left the bedroom, went to the screen, grabbed the gauze, and eagerly scanned the dining room.
Cultivating connections with the upper class and currying favor with local officials was Zhuo Wangsun's greatest passion, despite his humble origins. This usually frugal and meticulously calculating old man, who would split a single copper coin in two, would become surprisingly generous when entertaining high-ranking officials and dignitaries. He used this to flaunt his wealth, gain recognition, demonstrate his self-worth, and thus satisfy his vanity in a pitiful way. Besides, he had another purpose: "Having eaten my food and drunk my wine, I, Zhuo Wangsun, would be grateful for your patronage in all aspects. Thank you!"
Look, to win the favor of the officials, Zhuo Wangsun not only prepared a table full of delicious food, but also ordered his servants to bring out the wine that had been stored in the cellar for more than ten years. Zhuo Wangsun, who made his fortune by brewing wine, held the wine jar in both hands and proudly shook it in front of the guests: "Master, this jar of wine is from an old cellar that has been stored for many years!"
"Good wine, good wine," said a minor official sitting opposite his father. Perhaps due to frequent eating and drinking, the short official had become fat and round. Sitting in the chair, he looked like a big meatball. His wide, square face was covered in grease. Looking at the wine jar in Zhuo Wangsun's hands, the minor official grinned with greasy lips. The cunning, wealthy man, who always liked to use tricks, would only bring out his aged wine after his guests were seven-tenths drunk. Sure enough, Zhuo Wangsun diligently poured a cup of aged wine, and the fat official gulped it down. Already tipsy, the fellow couldn't even taste the wine properly, but still rambled on, "Good wine, good wine, truly good wine! Zhuo family wine is indeed as renowned as it sounds, good wine, good wine, hahaha..."
Ugh, how annoying! Watching the fat official's disgraceful behavior, Wenjun turned and went back into the inner room, muttering in disappointment: "Look at him, a big wine barrel, so vulgar, so lacking in class! Why does Dad associate with only such unbearably vulgar, low-class people!" After observing from behind the screen and entering the dormitory, Wenjun came to this conclusion: It's absolutely infuriating! A few cups of strong liquor and they're already so cocky. A mere minor official, and they act all high and mighty, puffing out their chests and bellies – a perfect example of a petty, smug tyrant.
The dining room erupted in noise again, followed by the clattering of poetry recitations. Wenjun listened intently: "Wow, I can't stand it anymore! What is all this?!" That tax official, in his drunken stupor, had forgotten his own limitations. Burping and swaying his half-empty belly of ink, he sat at the table, grinning widely, spouting classical phrases with an air of utter ignorance.
"Wrong, wrong!" Hearing the poem going off-rhyme, the outspoken and fiery young woman could no longer contain herself. She burst out from behind the screen, strode to the dining table, and, in front of everyone, began to berate the minor official without any politeness: "Stop reciting! It's out of rhyme! Your poem is out of rhyme! How embarrassing!"
"Hehe," a murmur rippled through the room. The minor official was extremely embarrassed, and beads of sweat streamed down his oily forehead. "Oh, really? I'm sorry, I've had too much to drink..." The minor official stared blankly at the beautiful young woman, listening to the murmurs of the crowd, unable to save face for a long time. Seeing this, the father immediately sternly addressed Wenjun: "Daughter, don't be rude! He is the county's tax collector—Master Wang Jishan. Quickly pay your respects to the guest! Sigh," then Zhuo Wangsun turned to the embarrassed minor official: "My daughter has been willful since childhood, all because I haven't disciplined her properly. She has offended me in many ways, please forgive me, sir!"
"No, it's alright!" Wang Jishan waved his hand, his red, alcohol-burned eyes staring intently at Zhuo Wenjun: Wow, I never expected that this old miser would have such a beautiful daughter! A rosy face, alluring lips… what a beautiful face! Oh, what a captivating figure! Oh, what a voluptuous body!…
“Hmph,” seeing the drunken official staring at her with strange eyes, the young widow gave a cold snort, turned and slipped behind the screen. Seeing that the beauty ignored her, the official turned to Zhuo Wangsun: “You are truly blessed! Your daughter is not only well-versed in literature and science, but also exceptionally beautiful. She is a true beauty with both talent and looks! May I ask, is your daughter betrothed to someone?” “
Alas, what am I blessed about!” Upon hearing this, Zhuo Wangsun, with a bitter expression, told the official about his daughter’s short-lived marriage. Upon hearing this, the official’s face lit up with joy: Oh, so she’s a young widow! Hehe, the official was secretly delighted, thinking his opportunity had arrived. He shifted his red, drunken eyes to Zhuo Wangsun, and behind the backs of the other diners, subtly hinted to the wealthy man that he wanted to take Wenjun as a concubine.
"Oh, this, this, let me think about it!" Zhuo Wangsun hesitated. "I don't mind having my daughter as his concubine. Anyway, she's no longer a virgin, and it will be quite difficult to find her a decent family!" However, the old rich man was still somewhat reluctant, thinking that Wang Jishan's official position was too low.
Zhuo Wangsun's thoughts did not escape Wang Jishan's eyes. After years of navigating society, if he didn't have this much insight, he would truly be a complete drunkard. Before the old miser could speak again, Wang Jishan regretfully revealed to Zhuo Wangsun that he had received a transfer order and would be promoted to county magistrate in the autumn. "Look," he said, pulling out a document from his pocket. These days, wherever Wang Jishan went to a banquet, after getting drunk, he would pull out this document and flaunt it. Upon seeing the documents Wang Jishan had laid out on the dining table, Zhuo Wangsun was overjoyed and agreed without hesitation to marry his newly widowed daughter to Wang as a concubine. Zhuo Wangsun, of course, had his own calculations: by establishing a marriage alliance with the government, he would receive more preferential treatment in business dealings.
After seeing the guests off, when Zhuo Wangsun told Wenjun about his plan, the young widow jumped up in anger, her fierce temper returning. No matter how her father tried to persuade her, she refused to become a concubine. Zhuo Wangsun sighed helplessly: "What's wrong? You won't listen to your father anymore? Alas, it's all my fault for spoiling you. What makes Wang Jishan unworthy of you? He'll be promoted to county magistrate this autumn, enjoying a royal stipend, and from what I understand, his family has a large estate. And you? You're already a widow, but Wang Jishan doesn't care about any of that, much less..." "They value your resilience and are wholeheartedly willing to take you in. You're already incredibly lucky to have found such a family, yet you're still not satisfied. You're still picky! A widow who's been married before, still wanting to find a virgin?!"
In the second chapter, Sima plays the zither to win the heart of the young widow, who prepares a ladder to receive her lover.
"I'd rather die than become a concubine!" Wenjun slammed the door shut. Her father's words deeply wounded her heart: how lowly a woman's life is, once married, worthless, destined to rot at home or become a concubine! No, I will never be a concubine! The young widow collapsed onto the bed, indignant at her fate: not only will I not become a concubine, but I will also not rot at home. I will seize every opportunity to find my ideal lover and start a new life!
The young widow, having spent a sleepless night, finally resolved that no matter what her father said, Wenjun would rather die than become a concubine. Wang Jishan, however, had his eye on her. After that banquet, Wang Jishan became a frequent visitor to Zhuo Wangsun's house. To persuade his daughter as soon as possible, Zhuo Wangsun disregarded the proper boundaries between men and women. Whenever the official Wang visited, when the wine was flowing freely, he would call Wenjun out of her inner room, ostensibly to drink with the official, but deliberately to arrange a meeting: "Wenjun, come, have a drink with Master Wang!"
Wang Jishan's plump figure and lewd manner were utterly repulsive. But she couldn't disobey her father's orders. Despite her reluctance, Wenjun displayed considerable composure. Under her father's eager gaze, Wenjun took the wine cup, held it in her hand, and with a troubled expression, said to the official, "This humble girl is not good at drinking. May I compose a poem with the guest to entertain him?"
"Oh, no, no," having already experienced Wenjun's prowess yesterday, the minor official dared not flaunt his half-baked knowledge in front of the widow again. He shook his head frantically, pointing to the wine cup and saying, "Drink! If you think highly of me, Miss, please drink this cup!"
With that, the minor official stared smugly at Wenjun, assuming the young widow couldn't handle the wine. Wenjun, however, pursed her lips and gave him a defiant glance: "Magistrate Wang." Upon hearing this, the minor official hurriedly waved his hands, "No, no, I haven't been officially appointed yet!"
"Since you say so, how can I refuse?" With that, Wenjun raised the wine cup, opened her mouth, and gulped it down. As she drank, she glanced at Wang Jishan out of the corner of her eye, seemingly mocking the official: Look at your meager capacity! You drank one cup all night and still have more than half left. Look at me, drinking a glass of strong liquor is as easy as drinking water! "Hmph, if you want to take me as your concubine, you'll have to get this little lady drunk first.
" "What a great capacity for alcohol!" Seeing Wenjun holding a wine cup and slowly, rhythmically, chugging down her drink, Wang Jishan grinned in astonishment, then gave her a thumbs up and exclaimed in genuine admiration.
"If you're going to drink, drink it all up!"
That's what Wenjun thought, and that's what she did. She downed a cup of strong liquor by herself, pushed the empty cup aside, grabbed a large bowl, filled it with liquor, and challenged Wang Jishan. Wang Jishan hesitated, but under Wenjun's urging, and to uphold his manly dignity, he reluctantly accepted the challenge. They each took a bowl of liquor and gulped it down, exchanging glances with Wenjun as they drank: "Little widow, you have to keep your word! If I finish this bowl of liquor, you must promise me you'll become my concubine and come back to my mansion with me. Hehe, little beauty, I guarantee you a happy life, with good food, good drink, and good clothes!" *
Slurp* The official, holding his bowl of liquor, was thinking about his good fortune when, just as he had drunk half a bowl, the alcohol suddenly took effect. In an instant, the fat man lost his senses, his body went limp, his legs slipped, and he collapsed under the table with a *slurp*. Wenjun threw down her wine bowl and burst into laughter: "Heh heh, with such meager skills, you dare come to my house to drink? What a disgrace! Heh heh!"
The guest, drunk to death under the table, caused Zhuo Wangsun to panic. He hurriedly summoned servants and a traditional Chinese medicine doctor. After some frantic efforts, the minor official was saved. The old landlord, whose heart had been in his throat, finally breathed a sigh of relief and ordered his servants to take Wang Jishan home to recuperate.
Alas, this was truly:
A forbidden boudoir for a feast, smoke billowing, lamplight flickering.
A drunkard dared to make a fool of himself in public, a newly widowed man teasing a minor official in the living room.
Seeing a beauty, lust arose, and he took her as a concubine, finding her delightful.
Poetry and songs are beyond my reach, and even excessive drinking has ruined me.
The next day, Wang Xishan, barely sober, arrived uninvited and challenged Wenjun to a drinking contest. Seeing the minor official's swollen face and lifeless eyes, the timid Zhuo Wangsun, fearing a fatality, exclaimed, "Hey, you don't know, my daughter is a natural drinker! Perhaps it's related to my profession. In my early years, I made my fortune brewing wine, and the courtyard was perpetually filled with the smell of alcohol. In such an environment, even those who don't drink will pick up the odor. My daughter has loved drinking since she was little, but I've never seen her drunk! If you still want to drink, sir, I'll keep you company!"
"Heh heh, let's drink! Don't even think about taking me as a concubine until you've gotten my daughter drunk!"
Hiding in the inner room, Wenjun found this fat fellow both annoying and endearing. Hearing him clamoring in the living room about a drinking contest, the young widow stepped forward triumphantly and arrogantly. The wealthy Zhuo was unwilling to comply and snatched the wine bowl from Wenjun's hand: "If you want to drink, drink slowly, sip by sip. Don't chug it like you're risking your life. What kind of relationship do you have with her, sir?" The old rich man then turned to the young official and sincerely advised, "I'm not trying to belittle you, but you really can't outdrink her!"
"But," the young official mumbled foolishly, stroking the wine bowl, "Miss Wenjun has already said that she won't become my concubine unless I get her drunk!"
"Take it slow, take it slow!" Zhuo Wangsun comforted the young official, "Knowing you can't outdrink her, why do you still insist on it and make yourself suffer? Don't worry, I'll help you talk to her! Sir, don't get angry, please drink slowly..."
Even if he drank slowly, sip by sip, the young official was still no match for Miss Wenjun. He got drunk every time he drank, and every time he got drunk he was unconscious, and the servants had to carry him to a carriage and send him back to the mansion. Once, a minor official, having drunk only a small amount—perhaps feigning intoxication—was escorted back to his residence by his servant. He scrambled to his feet, ordered a servant to bring him pen and ink, and quickly wrote a long letter to Miss Wenjun. He also tucked two gold ingots inside, imploring the servants of the Zhuo family to deliver the letter to Miss Wenjun without the master's knowledge. As a reward, the official would give the servant a silver ingot. The servant returned to the residence and delivered the gold ingots and letter to Miss Wenjun. Upon unfolding the letter, Miss Wenjun immediately frowned. This Wang was truly beyond redemption; his poems were off-rhyme, he drank until he was practically crawling under the table, and his handwriting was utterly atrocious. Before she had even read half of it, Miss Wenjun gave up, hastily rolled it up, and ordered the servant to return the letter and gold ingots to the minor official as is, instructing him never to let her father know. As a reward, Miss Wenjun also gave the servant a silver ingot. This happened several times. No matter what the minor official wrote or gave, Wenjun simply wouldn't even glance at it and ordered her servant to return it to him. The minor official gained nothing, while the servant made a considerable amount of money.
Helpless, in order to take Wenjun as his concubine, the minor official had no choice but to muster his courage and spirits, continuing to challenge Wenjun to drinking contests. Although he had no hope of winning, he never tired of it. Thus, this comical local official unwittingly enriched the newly widowed woman's melancholy life. The dark clouds that had shrouded the land of Shu for many days gradually dissipated, and Miss Wenjun's mood, like the clear blue sky, suddenly brightened. Seeing his daughter's worried brow unfurrow and her face light up with joy, Zhuo Wangsun mistakenly believed that his newly widowed daughter had finally come to her senses and was willing to become a concubine for a minor official. Therefore, the stingy old man no longer mentioned rebuilding the reception hall: "My daughter is getting married again anyway, what's the point of rebuilding the reception hall? It's just a waste of money!" "Hehe, my daughter," Zhuo Wangsun said, preparing to splurge heavily to ensure her early marriage, "I've already considered your dowry. When you get married, your father will give you one hundred servants, plus one million strings of cash!"
"Hmph, I don't want it!" Hearing her father mention money, Miss Wenjun became annoyed and turned to leave. Zhuo Wangsun also became angry: "What, you still think it's not enough? Your father has spent a lot of money on you! Last time you got married, your dowry was also very generous, but after the groom died, it all went to your mother-in-law! Sigh, my daughter, please understand your father! Earning money isn't easy for me!"
"Father, I'm never getting married again, and I don't want your money!"
"Official Wang has arrived!" came the servant's call from outside. Upon hearing this, Zhuo Wangsun glared at Miss Wenjun, "Whether you marry him or not, it's settled today. If this drags on any longer, I can't stand it. He'll eat and drink like this every day, and he'll bankrupt me!"
"Father," Wenjun said, her voice filled with grievance, "You're being unreasonable! I never said I wanted to marry him, nor did I invite him to our house. You've taken it upon yourself to force us together. When he comes in later, please tell him for me that he shouldn't come to our house again. I don't agree to be his concubine!"
"Daughter, no, no!" Seeing that his daughter was truly angry, Master Zhuo immediately softened his tone. "Dad was wrong, Dad was wrong. Daughter, don't be angry, come inside and rest. Dad is going to entertain the guests!"
Wang, the official, arrived at the Zhuo residence on time, as if going to work. Zhuo Wangsun still treated him warmly. However, having just argued with his father, he was in a bad mood. The young widow feigned illness and refused to appear, secretly peeking at the guests at the table from behind a screen. The most prominent position at the table was naturally occupied by the portly and bloated Wang Jishan. Wenjun's gaze shifted from the fat official to the young widow, who suddenly made an unexpected discovery: sitting next to Wang Jishan was a richly dressed young man. This caught the young woman's attention. When her gaze swept over the man's face, his handsome features and dashing demeanor made Wenjun's heart skip a beat: Who was he? Where did he serve? He was so handsome! Ah, thank God, the handsome man my daughter has been longing for has finally appeared!
The beautiful young woman was watching intently, her heart fluttering with desire, when Wang Jishan suddenly swayed, becoming like a wall of flesh, obscuring most of the handsome man's face, much to Wenjun's annoyance! Not only that, Wang Jishan then raised his arm, as thick as a pig's elbow, completely blocking the handsome man's face: "Oh, oh, let me introduce him," he said, lowering his arm and grabbing the richly dressed man with his fleshy hand: "He is my best friend, Mr. Sima. This man is exceptionally talented, eloquent, and an absolute genius, the person I admire most! Come, my friend, my idol, show us your skills!"
Amidst Wang Jishan's introduction, the handsome man, praised to his utmost, stood up, carrying... Playing the guqin with an air of nonchalance, Wang Jishan, his eyes half-closed with drunkenness, pointed at the handsome man and exclaimed, "Look at this great scholar! Just his two legs standing there are like a walking bookshelf! My belly is full of dung, while his is filled with the Four Books and Five Classics! Hehe!"
The handsome man, praised by Wang as a walking bookshelf, circled half the living room before finally sitting down in front of the screen. His fingertips lightly plucked the strings, his eyes deliberately glancing at the screen, seemingly already aware that behind it stood a beautiful young woman, fiery and sharp-tongued yet alluring.
Through the silk gauze, Wenjun could clearly see the handsome man's face, which made the young widow both excited and nervous. Her legs trembled, yet she dared not move, her hand caressing her thumping breasts, her delicate white skin glistening with a cold sweat: Had he discovered me?
"Hmm, hmm," the handsome man, though separated by a screen, seemed almost within reach. He cleared his throat and began to play the zither and recite: "
Phoenix, oh phoenix, return to your homeland, roam the four seas seeking your mate. But
the time has not come, and I have nowhere to go; how could I have known I would ascend to this hall tonight?
A beautiful lady dwells in her boudoir, so near yet so far, tormenting my heart. How can we become a pair of mandarin ducks
, soaring side by side, side by side?"
Wow, what a beautiful poem! The young widow exclaimed inwardly, perhaps too excited, she nearly fainted, crashing into the screen with a thud. She struggled to control herself, her supple body leaning against the screen, her eyes, burning with desire, fixed on the ceiling: Who was he? Was he a psychologist, or an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor? How could he so easily grasp her essence, discerning her deepest thoughts and desires?
Wenjun leaned against the screen, listening to the handsome man recite poetry. The beautiful young woman seemed intoxicated, her eyes glazed over, her lips parted in a small grin. Or perhaps a physician had struck some acupoint, leaving her weak, her limbs stiff, her hands trembling as she touched her silk gauze. All of this was observed by the cunning Wang: "Ah, quite something! The young woman is aroused!"
Of course, what happened behind the screen did not escape the eyes of the handsome man reciting poetry. He chuckled inwardly and continued reciting, each word stirring Wenjun's passion, each line arousing the young woman's desire. The young widow leaned against the screen, trembling, rubbing against it. Fortunately, the restaurant was filled with noise, everyone praising the handsome man's literary talent. Apart from Wang and the handsome man, the wealthy man and the other guests did not notice the beautiful young woman's aroused desire behind the screen.
Gazing at the slightly trembling screen, the minor official winked at the handsome man, then, using official business as an excuse, rose and left with Sima. As they exited the boudoir, Sima, carrying his zither, still glanced at the screen, a mysterious smile—one that Wenjun so desperately longed for—playing on his rosy cheeks.
With a thud, the servant slammed the door shut behind them, the dull thud like a wooden mallet striking the beauty's heart. Though not painful, it left her with a sense of melancholy and disappointment. Only then did Wenjun truly realize that she had fallen in love with Mr. Sima, and could never leave this handsome man again.
After an unknown amount of time, the servant who had seen the guest off returned, standing respectfully outside the door. He whispered, "Miss, the guest asked me to bring you a letter..."
"Is it from that Wang Jishan?" Miss Wenjun said casually, "I won't read it. Give it back to him as is, and I'll reward you with silver when I get back!"
"Miss," the servant tiptoed in, "it's not from Master Wang, it's a letter from Mr. Sima..."
"Oh, let me see, let me see," before the servant could finish speaking, Miss Wenjun snatched the letter, excitedly unfolding it. With a clatter, a gold hairpin fell to the ground. The servant quickly picked it up and placed it on the bedside table. Wenjun held the letter, glanced at it, and her sweaty face flushed red.
What was written in the letter that made the young widow so excited? Just a few lines of poetry: "
Phoenix, phoenix, let the phoenix perch, to entrust my offspring to be my eternal consort.
Our friendship is complete, our hearts in harmony, who knows of our midnight tryst?"
With wings spread wide, they soar high, yet my thoughts remain unmoved, leaving me only sorrow!
From the last two lines of the poem, Miss Wenjun seemed to have grasped something. She instructed her servant, "Waiter, hurry, hurry!"
"Miss, what is it? Just tell me!"
"The master is coming tonight. You, you must prepare the ladder!"
"Yes, Miss, I understand, I'll prepare the ladder!"
"Waiter," Miss Wenjun grabbed the servant, instructing, "Remember, remember, you absolutely mustn't let Father know, understand? I'll reward you handsomely!" "Yes, Miss, you absolutely mustn't let Master know, I understand!" "Go!" Wenjun, widowed at home, glimpsed the handsome Sima in her boudoir. At first sight, she fell for the beautiful man, whose refined manners captivated her. The melodious sound of his zither stirred her heart; behold
, the scholar was so dashing . A letter was written, a token of their understanding; at midnight, she felt the roof tiles. In the third chapter, her knowledge of poetry was useless, so she used it to woo a woman, but it was all rather flirtatious . After all this talk, who is this Sima? What was his talent that captivated the young widow's heart upon his first appearance? This man was a renowned figure from Shu, surnamed Sima, named Xiangru, courtesy name Changqing. Xiangru was learned in his youth and deeply appreciated by the King of Liang, who strongly recommended him to the emperor. However, the emperor was preoccupied with military affairs and ambitiously sought to conquer the southwestern barbarians, leaving him no time for literary pursuits. Sima Xiangru spent some time in the palace, feeling neglected, and reluctantly returned to Shu to continue serving as a retainer of the King of Liang. He also brought back a new work for the king, "Ode to the Jade Ruyi," which greatly pleased the king. The king praised it lavishly and generously rewarded Xiangru, bestowing upon him a precious zither. This zither was said to be a priceless heirloom, embodying the essence of heaven and earth, the five elements, and the sacred spirit of both the civil and military kings, hence its beautiful name, "The Essence of the Tongzi." Despite his bumpy official career, Sima Xiangru, while materially poor, was quite content in his spiritual life while serving the Prince of Liang. Those who dabble in literature are often quite aloof; knowing full well that money is essential, they hypocritically proclaim that they regard money as "dung." When a gentleman is unsuccessful, as long as someone appreciates him and provides basic necessities, allowing him to compose poetry and paint freely without worry, he has no other desires! He silently and patiently awaits his opportunity. However, this good fortune is short-lived. The following spring, the Prince of Liang suddenly died, and Sima Xiangru's parasitic, leisurely life came to an abrupt end. A scholar in decline is less fortunate than a beggar on the street—a situation described by the common saying, "A fallen phoenix is worse than a chicken!" While serving as a retainer in the Liang Prince's household, Sima Xiangru received many gifts from the prince. However, Xiangru was a dissolute young man, poor at managing money, the kind who spent it all as soon as he had it, living for the moment. With the prince's death, Sima's source of income was immediately cut off, leaving him penniless and struggling to even afford food. But as the saying goes, "Heaven never seals off all paths!" The prince's death meant that Xiangru was only temporarily destitute. Even when he was a retainer in the Liang Prince's household, Sima Xiangru was not only highly regarded by the prince but also had many admirers.

URL 1:http://localhost:909/htmlBlog/14920.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=14920&aspx=1

Previous Page : The Complete Book of One Hundred Women - Part 5

Next Page : The Complete Book of One Hundred Women - 7

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

The Complete Book of One Hundred Women - 6

comment Open a new window to view comments