Bao Er’s wife laughed as she smacked Xing’er lightly and said that there had been a little truth in what he first said, but he had ruined it by piling on nonsense. From the sound of him, she joked, he hardly seemed like a servant from Jia Lian’s side at all—more like one of Baoyu’s people.
Just as You Erjie was about to press him further, You Sanjie cut in with a smile and asked what Baoyu actually did besides going to school. Xing’er answered readily. Baoyu, he said, had grown up without ever really attending a proper school. In the Jia family, generation after generation had spent years buried in study, yet Baoyu had never cared for books. The old matriarch doted on him, and though his father once tried to discipline him, even that had long since become impossible. All day he acted in strange, dreamy ways, saying things others could not follow and doing things no one could make sense of. Outsiders saw only his fine looks and assumed he must be brilliant, but Xing’er claimed it was all appearance: polished on the outside, muddled within. He knew a few characters, but neither studied literature nor practiced martial skills. He disliked meeting people and preferred spending time among maids. He had no proper authority either—if he was in the mood, he would romp around with the servants as though all were equals; if he was not, he simply left them alone, and they returned the favor. No one feared him, because he never truly managed anyone.
You Sanjie laughed and said servants were impossible to satisfy: if a master was lenient, they took advantage; if he was strict, they complained. You Erjie remarked that they had thought Baoyu quite admirable, and it was a pity if such a handsome person turned out that way. But Sanjie did not agree. She said Xing’er was exaggerating. They had not seen Baoyu only once or twice. His manner of speaking, behaving, eating, and drinking did have a certain softness to it, but that came from being raised almost entirely in the women’s quarters. As for calling him foolish—where was the evidence?
She reminded her sister of the mourning period when they had all stayed together. One day, when the monks came in to circle the coffin, everyone was standing there, and Baoyu deliberately stayed in front, blocking them. People said he had no manners and no sense of propriety. Yet afterward he quietly explained that he had done it because the monks were dirty and he feared their smell would offend the young women. Then there was the tea: when an old servant took away his cup to pour tea for her sister, he quickly objected and said he had already drunk from it, so it should be washed before being given to them. In these small incidents, Sanjie said, she had seen clearly that he was considerate in his own way. Among girls, whatever he did seemed acceptable; he simply did not fit the usual outward forms expected by others, so they misunderstood him.
You Erjie teased that from the sound of it, Sanjie and Baoyu had already become kindred spirits, and perhaps she ought to be married to him. Because Xing’er was present, Sanjie only lowered her head and cracked melon seeds without answering. Xing’er laughed and said that in looks and temperament they would indeed make a fine pair. But Baoyu was already as good as promised elsewhere, though nothing formal had yet been announced. In time, he said, the match would surely be with Miss Lin. She was often ill, and both were still young, so nothing had been settled yet, but in another two or three years, once the old matriarch spoke, no one would oppose it.
While they were still talking, Long’er arrived with news: a confidential matter had come up, and Jia Lian was being sent to Ping’an Prefecture on official business. He could not come that day. The errand would begin within a few days and take about half a month altogether. Long’er urged the women to settle the matter of You Sanjie quickly so that when Jia Lian came the next day, he could make a decision. Then he took Xing’er and left.
That night You Erjie closed the doors early and questioned her younger sister at length. The next afternoon Jia Lian finally came. Erjie urged him not to rush over if he had serious business to attend to, but Jia Lian brushed it off, saying only that a distant assignment had unexpectedly fallen to him and would keep him away for half a month. Erjie then reassured him: Sanjie was not the sort to change her mind from morning to night. Since she had said she repented of her old ways, she truly meant it. More than that, she had already chosen the man she would marry. Jia Lian asked who it was. Erjie smiled and said the man was not there at present and might not return for a long time, but Sanjie’s resolve would not waver. She had sworn that if he did not come for a year, she would wait a year; if ten years, then ten. If he died and never returned, she would shave her head, become a nun, live on vegetarian fare, and spend the rest of her life in Buddhist devotion.
Jia Lian, astonished, asked who could have moved Sanjie so deeply. Erjie then told the story. Five years earlier, when they had gone with their mother to celebrate a birthday in the maternal family, a troupe of performers had been invited, and among them was a young actor in male roles named Liu Xianglian. Sanjie had fixed her heart on him then and had resolved to marry no one else. Later they heard that he had caused some trouble and fled; since then, they had not known whether he had returned.
At this, Jia Lian understood at once. So that was the man. He praised Sanjie’s discernment. Liu Xianglian, he said, was strikingly handsome, but cold in face and colder in heart, almost heartless toward ordinary people. He was especially close to Baoyu. After beating Xue Pan the previous year, he had been too embarrassed to show himself around them and had disappeared. There had been rumors of his return, but no certainty. Jia Lian said it would be easy enough to ask among Baoyu’s pages. Still, if Xianglian remained a wanderer and did not come back for years, would that not leave Sanjie waiting in vain? Erjie only answered that her sister was exactly the sort to do what she said.
Before they had finished speaking, You Sanjie herself came in and addressed Jia Lian directly. He need not worry, she said. She was not a woman whose words and heart ran in opposite directions. If Liu Xianglian appeared, she would marry him. From that day on she would eat vegetarian food, recite Buddhist scriptures, serve her mother, and wait. If he came, she would marry him; if he did not come in a hundred years, she would devote herself to religious cultivation. As she spoke, she snapped a jade hairpin in two and declared that if a single word of hers were false, let her end be like that pin. Then she returned to her room—and from that day she truly did begin living with extreme restraint, moving and speaking only within the bounds of decorum.
Jia Lian had no choice but to discuss household matters a little longer with Erjie and then return home to consult Wang Xifeng about his departure. At the same time he had people ask Mingyan whether Liu Xianglian had come back. Mingyan said he did not know and guessed not; if Xianglian had returned, someone would likely have heard. Neighbors gave the same answer. Jia Lian therefore relayed this uncertainty to Erjie.
As the departure date drew near, Jia Lian spent two nights at Erjie’s place before slipping away quietly on his journey. There he saw that Sanjie truly had transformed herself, while Erjie managed the household with diligence and caution. He was relieved.
Three days out on the road to Ping’an Prefecture, traveling from dawn to dusk and stopping only to eat and sleep, Jia Lian encountered a caravan coming toward him. Among the riders he recognized, to his surprise, Xue Pan and Liu Xianglian. He immediately rode forward to greet them, and all three dismounted at an inn to exchange news.
Jia Lian joked that after the fight between them, everyone had tried to bring about a reconciliation, but Liu Xianglian had vanished without a trace. How had the two of them now come to be together? Xue Pan answered that the whole affair was remarkable. He had been traveling with his goods on a merchant journey and had been safe all the way until, just inside the boundaries of Ping’an Prefecture, a gang of robbers attacked and seized the cargo. By sheer chance Liu Xianglian arrived from the opposite direction, scattered the thieves, recovered the goods, and even saved their lives. Xue Pan had tried to thank him, but Xianglian refused any reward. Instead the two had sworn brotherhood and were now traveling toward the capital together. At a fork in the road they would part: Xianglian would go south for two hundred li to visit an aunt, while Xue Pan would return first to settle matters in the city and then help Liu Xianglian find a house and a good marriage.
The mention of a marriage gave Jia Lian his opening. He said he knew of an excellent match for his new sworn brother. He explained his own connection to the You family—how he had taken You Erjie and was now arranging to marry off her younger sister—though he carefully omitted that Sanjie herself had long since chosen Xianglian. He also warned Xue Pan not to mention any of this at home; once a son was born, the family would know soon enough.
Xue Pan was delighted and blurted out that this should have been done much earlier, and that certain troubles had all been the fault of his cousin. Xianglian quickly stopped him before he said too much. Xue Pan then declared the match settled. Liu Xianglian answered that he had always wished to marry a woman of exceptional beauty. Since this proposal came through men he respected, he would not be overly demanding and would submit to their judgment. Jia Lian laughed and said that once Xianglian saw the girl, he would know there was no equal to her in beauty.
That pleased Xianglian greatly. He said he would first visit his aunt and then be back in the capital around the middle of the following month, at which time the matter could be finalized. Jia Lian, however, did not trust the habits of a man who drifted wherever he pleased. What if he delayed and left the girl waiting? A pledge was needed.
Xianglian replied that a man of honor did not break his word, but he was poor and traveling and had nothing suitable to offer. Xue Pan immediately said he could provide a gift on his behalf. Jia Lian refused that idea. The item had to be something that belonged personally to Liu Xianglian, whether valuable or not, simply as proof of sincerity. Xianglian then said that the sword at his waist was for self-defense and could not be given away, but in his bag he carried a pair of mandarin-duck swords, an heirloom from his family that he dared not use lightly. Jia Lian was welcome to take them as the token. However wandering his nature might be, Xianglian said, he would never part with those swords lightly.
After a few more cups of wine, the men mounted and went their separate ways.
Jia Lian reached Ping’an Prefecture, completed his official business, and received instructions to make another return trip around the tenth month. The next day he hurried back and stopped first at You Erjie’s residence. During his absence, Erjie had kept the household in strict order, closing the doors and involving herself in no outside affairs. Sanjie too had remained resolute, serving her mother and sister and living quietly. Though lonely at night and unaccustomed to solitude, she had turned her heart away from all others and thought only of Liu Xianglian’s return and the completion of her marriage.
When Jia Lian arrived and saw all this, he was deeply pleased and grateful for Erjie’s virtue. After the usual greetings, he told them of his chance meeting with Liu Xianglian and produced the mandarin-duck swords. Sanjie examined them. The mountings were worked with dragons and protective beasts, set with gleaming jewels. When she drew them, she found that the pair fit together in one scabbard. One blade was engraved with the character for "yuan," the other with "yang." They shone cold and bright, like two streaks of autumn water. Sanjie was overjoyed. She immediately hung the swords by her embroidered bed and looked at them every day, smiling to herself as if her whole future had now found its support.
After staying two days, Jia Lian returned home, reported on his mission, and saw the whole household again. By then Wang Xifeng had mostly recovered and resumed managing affairs. Jia Lian also informed Jia Zhen about the marriage matter. But Jia Zhen had lately become distracted by new companions and gave it little thought, leaving everything to Jia Lian. He merely handed over thirty taels of silver, since Jia Lian could not bear all the expense alone. Jia Lian passed the money to Erjie to prepare the trousseau.
At last, in the eighth month, Liu Xianglian returned to the capital. He first paid his respects to Aunt Xue and happened to meet Xue Ke, from whom he learned that Xue Pan had fallen ill almost as soon as he got back, unable to endure the weather and the change of water. Xianglian visited him in his sickroom. Aunt Xue, putting old grievances aside in light of his recent rescue, thanked him warmly. The marriage arrangement was discussed as well, and she said everything was in readiness except for choosing an auspicious date. Xianglian was moved by their gratitude.
The next day he went to see Baoyu, and the two met like old friends restored to one another. Xianglian asked about Jia Lian’s secret taking of a second wife. Baoyu said he had only heard servants like Mingyan talking and had not seen anything himself. He had also heard that Jia Lian’s people had been asking after Xianglian, though he did not know why. Xianglian then recounted the entire matter from the road onward.
Baoyu congratulated him and said it was a rare thing that such a beautiful woman truly matched him. Xianglian, however, had become uneasy. If she was so exceptional, why had the family thought of him specifically? He had never been especially close to them, and the urgency with which Jia Lian had pressed the matter on the road now seemed suspicious. Could it be that the woman’s family was pursuing the man, instead of the other way around? He regretted having left the swords as a betrothal token and had come to Baoyu in hopes of learning the truth.
Baoyu told him he was overthinking. Had he not always insisted that he wanted a woman of surpassing beauty? Now one had appeared; why doubt? Xianglian asked how Baoyu could know she was beautiful if he himself had admitted he knew little of Jia Lian’s second marriage. Baoyu explained that the girl was one of the two younger sisters brought by the stepmother of Jia Zhen’s wife. He had spent a month in their company and knew perfectly well that they were both extraordinary beauties—so beautiful, he joked, that it suited them to bear the surname You.
At that, Xianglian struck his foot in sudden alarm. This would never do, he said. In the Eastern Mansion, apart from the two stone lions at the gate, even the cats and dogs were probably not clean. He would not become another man’s castoff cuckold. Baoyu flushed at these words. Realizing he had spoken offensively, Xianglian quickly apologized and asked more carefully what Sanjie’s character was like. Baoyu answered with a laugh that if Xianglian already understood things so deeply, why ask him? Perhaps he himself was not so clean either.
Xianglian laughed awkwardly and apologized again, saying he had spoken rashly. Baoyu let the matter pass. But once outside, Xianglian had made up his mind. Xue Pan was ill and too impulsive to advise him properly. Better to retrieve the betrothal token at once.
So he went straight to Jia Lian.
Jia Lian was in the new residence when told that Xianglian had come. Overjoyed, he hurried out, greeted him warmly, and led him inside, where Xianglian was also introduced to the old mother of the You sisters. But Jia Lian soon sensed something wrong. Xianglian bowed formally, calling the old woman "madam" and referring to himself with unusual reserve.
Over tea, he stated his purpose. In the rush of travel, he said, he had made the promise without knowing that his aunt had already arranged a younger sister-in-law for him back in the fourth month. He had no proper words with which to answer her now. If he obeyed Jia Lian, he would be betraying his aunt; if he obeyed his aunt, he would disappoint Jia Lian. As for money or silk, he would not dare ask them back—but the sword was a family relic from his grandfather, so he hoped it might be returned.
Jia Lian was instantly displeased. A pledge, he said, was meant to settle a matter precisely so there could be no backtracking. How could marriage be handled so casually, advanced one day and withdrawn the next? Still, perhaps the matter could be discussed. Xianglian answered that he was willing to bear blame or punishment, but in this case he could not comply. When Jia Lian tried to continue, Xianglian stood and asked him to step outside to talk, since this room was not convenient.
But You Sanjie had heard everything clearly from within.
She had waited and waited for his return, only to hear him repent of the match the moment he arrived. In an instant she understood what had happened: he must have heard rumors inside the Jia family and now despised her as shameless and corrupt, unworthy to be his wife. If she let him go outside and formally break the engagement with Jia Lian, Jia Lian would be left with no way to answer for it, and she herself would be utterly humiliated.
The moment she heard Jia Lian preparing to step out with him, she snatched down the swords. Concealing one blade behind her elbow, she strode out and said there was no need for further discussion. He might have back his pledge.
Tears pouring down, she handed the sheathed sword to Liu Xianglian with her left hand. Then, with the right, she reversed the hidden blade and swept it across her own throat.
Peach-blossom red was scattered over the ground; a jade mountain had fallen, never to be set upright again.
Her fragrant spirit and tender nature vanished into the dim unseen. Everyone was thrown into chaos. The old mother howled and cursed Liu Xianglian. Jia Lian seized him at once and ordered the servants to bind him and send him to the authorities. But You Erjie, swallowing her own grief, stopped him. There had been no coercion, she said; Sanjie had chosen death herself. What use would it be to drag the man before the law? It would only create more scandal and trouble. Better to let him go.
Jia Lian, at a loss, finally released him and told him to leave quickly.
Liu Xianglian, however, did not move. Weeping, he said he had never imagined she was such a noble and steadfast woman. He supported the corpse and cried bitterly. He stayed until a coffin was bought and she was laid inside, then bent over the casket and wept again before at last taking his leave.
He wandered out with no idea where to go, half-dazed, replaying the scene in his mind. So she had been not only beautiful, but fierce in honor and true in feeling. Regret came too late.
As he walked, one of Xue Pan’s young servants seemed to find him and lead him to a newly furnished room. Everything there was neat and complete. Then he heard the faint tinkling of ornaments, and You Sanjie entered. In one hand she held the mandarin-duck swords; in the other, a scroll. Through tears she said that she had waited for him in foolish devotion for five years and had not expected him to prove so cold of heart and face. She had answered that infatuation with death. Now, by command from the Lady of Disenchantment, she was on her way to the Land of Illusion to register and oversee the ghosts of passion. Unable to bear departing without one last meeting, she had come to see him. From this point on, they could never meet again.
She turned to go. Xianglian rushed to stop her and ask more, but she said only this: she had come from the realm of love and would depart to the realm beneath it. In a former life she had been misled by passion; now, ashamed of passion and awakened from it, she and he had nothing more to do with one another.
Then, with a gust of fragrance, she vanished without a trace.
Liu Xianglian started awake. Dream or not dream, he opened his eyes and found no servant from the Xue household, no bridal chamber—only a ruined temple. Beside him sat a Daoist with legs crossed, calmly catching lice.
Xianglian rose, bowed, and asked where this place was, and what immortal master he had the honor of addressing. The Daoist smiled and said he did not even know where this place was himself, nor who he was; he was merely resting there for the moment.
At those words, a chill entered Xianglian’s bones like ice. Drawing the remaining sword—the male blade—he cut off in a single stroke the ten thousand strands of worldly vexation, like severing his own hair. Then he followed the Daoist away, no one knew where.