The Jade Enchantress. E. Hoffmann Price
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of you so quickly? The fact is, Master Wu always sends new students to us and we’re happy to welcome them.”
Female servants had never been formal with Ju-hai. Although he liked it that way and accepted Orchid’s self-assurance as an indication of competence in knowing her way around the enormous city, he took special notice and he wondered. Her eyes and her bearing made him feel that she had always been accustomed to supervising, managing, and directing—which would be good, if it didn’t go too far.
He followed Orchid to an inner court from which she stepped into a small reception and utility room; there were also two bedrooms and servant’s quarters, as well as a bath cubicle and a kitchen annex.
“I can save some of my time for other tenants, or you can have my full time—shopping, cleaning up, and fixing all your meals; you’ll have nothing to interfere with your studies. If you like the place, you may leave a deposit, and, when your things arrive, I’ll tell the porters to arrange your belongings the way you tell me. There’s Master Hui now. Wait, I’ll tell him.”
Chapter XI
When the Ming De Gate opened at dawn, Ju-hai told Shou-chi, “I went with you when we combed the western market, but the Old Man should know that I didn’t tell you what to do or how to do it. When you say this to him, say that I told you to speak for me.”
Shou-chi bowed, then straightened up, grinning. “Elder Brother, I’ll also say that I didn’t tell you how to pass the examinations.”
It was Ju-hai’s turn to bow.
The drivers were looking to Shou-chi for the go-ahead. He said, “Mustn’t be robbed the first time I’m in charge.”
“In this dung-eating city,” Ju-hai retorted, “I stand a better chance of being held up than you do.” Lowering his voice, he added, “It’s all yours!”
Shou-chi raised his arm. “Lead off!” he shouted; he reined in, pausing long enough to say, “Good luck, Elder Brother.”
Ju-hai raised his arm in farewell. He wheeled his pony and rode to the rear until, with a start, he realized that he was near the Jin Guan Gate, beyond which was the Mongol colony. Retracing his course, he rode to his new home.
Doctor Wu allowed new students several days in which to become accustomed to their new environment before he assigned studies. During this interval, Ju-hai had divided his time between the Kwan villagers and touring the shops to get additional town clothes and to buy books, brushes, ink slabs, and all the other accessories of scholarship, which his teacher had suggested in a longer talk the day following their meeting.
As he flipped the reins to the doorkeeper, Ju-hai realized how right the old scholar had been in allowing time for acclimatization. He still groped, off balance in the way of a man prowling about the house, one shoe off, one shoe on.
When he stepped in, Orchid said, “I knew you’d be back soon. Everywhere else is still strange.”
Now that his fellow villagers were on their way home, this was the least strange corner of Ch’ang-an. From the reception room, his glance shifted to the study room. Orchid had arranged all the things he’d been buying and dumping on the table.
“Old Master,” she said, following him, “you forgot to get a brush-holder, so I got one when I bought kitchen supplies and a few utensils.” She beckoned, and he stepped into the kitchen, where he noted other purchases: jugs of shao-hsing, and some shao-hsing hsueh chiew, something he’d never heard of. There was kao-liang, san shu, and ng ha pai. The last named was considered a tonic because of the many herbs which the potent stuff contained; that made it popular with orthodox Buddhists, since it wasn’t an intoxicant, but was a medicine.
“You probably won’t care for all of these,” Orchid continued. “But you’ll be making friends—students always do—they’d go crazy, otherwise, in a strange city. And they do have a range of tastes. There is even araq—I can’t say that word right, it’s Arabic. Anyway, there are a few camel jockeys among the students; they come from Khotan.”
“You think of everything!”
“I’ve lived here all my life. I know you must be hungry, since you left before sunrise. What would you like?”
“After road cookery and the stuff at Maqsoud’s, I’d go for anything. Use your imagination. Come to think of it, I didn’t get to the inn at the west market until my brother’s wagon train was all ready to roll, so I didn’t have breakfast.”
He stepped into the study room and reached for Li Po’s latest collection of poems. He stretched out the accordion-pleated pages compressed by hard covers and glanced down column after column of elegant calligraphy, but nothing suited his mood until, finally, there was one which fitted the mood set by the day:
Here I must leave and float away
On river flood or soaring cloud.
Our days are gone, our nights are done…
Farewells—the keynote of the Civil Service. Fellow students, graduated, serving in the same prefecture several years of their youth, meeting again many years later and a thousand miles from the start…another encounter, perhaps after retirement. Ju-hai had had his first sample.
The great city was not the loathsome place he had anticipated. After several days of rest and recuperation, he showed up in midforenoon at his teacher’s home to begin the study of classics and to practice calligraphy. The following day, he appeared soon after breakfast, but promptness tapered off. Each time he was late, he apologized with charm and entire sincerity. Master Wu, after mild reproof, urged him to devote more time to sleep. In the long run, late study was not productive.
Ju-hai attributed his comfortable lethargy to letdown, after years of farm hours plus overtime, to change of climate, and to change of diet. There could be no doubt that Orchid’s kitchencraft was outstanding. She worked on impulse. Whatever she offered, it was exactly what he would have asked for, if ever he had bothered to wonder whether his next meal would be a tray of snacks—dim sum in or out of season—or a nine course meal.
And here she was, bringing a bowl of spicy meat balls floating in congee—this in lieu of soup; duck feet, smoked, steamed, and each garnished with a ribbon of red roast pork; a plate of dumplings stuffed with minced meat and vegetables; and a small earthenware casserole, a farm-style, one-dish meal of duck, mushrooms, diced pork, and dried oysters miraculously brought back to fresh size and texture. For good measure, clusters of tree fungus floated in the gravy.
Always, Orchid stood by, ready to refill his wine cup; this ceremonial touch gave him a feeling of magnificence. Master Wu, the teacher, was indeed understanding. It did take a while to become accustomed to his new life.
Courtyard walls blocked out the cries of street hawkers. He could not recall when he’d ever been more content with life and the world, except for missing Hsi-feng.
Ju-hai sighed. Yawn followed sigh. It became ever more fascinating to watch Orchid’s stately pacings from the table side to the kitchen annex for more wine, and finally, for tea of a flavor different from any that he’d ever tasted before. He’d been speculating, not so much as to what Orchid’s contributions to his welfare were to include, as to when she’d be getting around to that.
“Nice, really nice…kind of exciting, in her quiet way.”
A deeper sigh, another yawn…the Orchid query would keep until he set his books aside, tonight, but right now…
Ju-hai decided he’d lounge in the garden, loll around, and compose verses to capture the autumn spirit; but at the door opening into the court with its miniature lake, miniature bridge, and pavilion not large enough for three persons, he paused. He’d eaten too much…o mi to fu!…what a cook…what wine!
Before he was halfway to the bedroom he was sleepwalking from golden pleasance into a cozy blur of shimmering shadow and darkness, a confusion of times, places, and people…a borderland wherein dream and waking merged, each borrowing from the other, until finally he could