The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

JOU PU TUAN by Li-Yü

After leaving the hermit, the young man went his way mumbling and grumbling:

“A fine saint indeed! Here I am, just twenty, barely at the threshold of manhood, and he expects me to take the tonsure, to renounce the world, and to suffer the bitterness of a monkish existence. Has such heartlessness its like in all the world? I only went to pay him my respects because formerly, before becoming a hermit, he was regarded as one of the leading lights of Confucian scholarship. I fancied he would dig up heaven knows what magic spells and bits of occult wisdom to help me on my way. But instead, he has the gall to treat me as a stupid child, and his only gift to me is this absurd and utterly uninspired epigram, which is like thunder without lightning. The whole thing is preposterous. As a future official and dignitary, I shall some day govern a whole district with a population numbering tens of thousands, and he fancies that I won’t be able to govern my own wife. Is it unreasonable of me to desire a little practice in the wind-and-moon game a little experience before marrying? That’s what he was trying to forbid. But otherwise I should be going into marriage with my eyes closed and might even choose the wrong woman. And to top it all, he tells me that someone might requite me for past transgressions by violating the securely guarded honor of my house. As though the woman who gets a paragon of manly qualities like me for a husband had any need to be seduced by another man! My own wife unfaithful! – Why, it’s out of the question.

“I should really tear up this incompetent epigram and stamp on it. But no, I’d better not. I can use it as evidence later on, to stuff down his venomous throat. If I ever meet him again, I’ll show him his epigram and put him to the test, to see whether he admits his mistake.”

After thus deliberating, he folded the epigram and put it into his belt pocket.

Returning home, he bade his servants seek out all the marriage brokers they could find and commission them to search the city and countryside for the most beautiful of marriageable girls. She must be of respectable and distinguished family; and he insisted that she must be not only beautiful, but intelligent and well educated as well. There was no lack of offers. What paterfamilias would not have been glad to have him for a son-in-law, what daughter would not have taken him for a husband? Each day a number of marriage brokers came to him with their suggestions. Where the candidate was not too high in the social scale, the matchmaker would bring her along to be introduced and inspected at first hand. But in the case of a distinguished family which insisted on its forms and observances, she arranged to have the young man, as though by chance, cross the young lady’s path in the courtyard of one of the temples, or while she was taking the air out-side the city walls.

All these meetings and tours of inspection proved to be quite useless. A certain number of worthy young persons were unnecessarily jolted out of their peaceful routines and sent home again with vain pangs in their tender little hearts. For of all the candidates who were brought forward, not a one met with the exacting suitor’s approval.

But one of the marriage brokers said to the young man:

“Now it is clear to me that among all the young candidates there is only one who is worth considering: Miss Noble Scent; her father is a private scholar, known throughout the city by the surname T’ieh-fei tao-jen, Iron Door Follower of the Tao. She alone can meet your stringent requirements. But in her case there is a difficulty: her father is an old crank who adheres rigidly to the ancient customs. He would certainly not permit you to inspect his daughter before marriage. Consequently I fear that even this last hope must be abandoned.”

“Iron Door Follower of the Tao? How did he come by such a strange surname? Why does he not wish his daughter to be seen? And if he keeps her hidden from all eyes, how do you know she is beautiful?”

“As I have told you, the old gentleman is rather crochety; he cares only for his books and avoids all society. He doesn’t see a living soul. He lives in a splendid country house outside the city, with fields and meadows round it, and it makes no difference who knocks on his door, he refuses to open. One day an unknown admirer came to see him, a respected gentleman from another part of the country, who wished to pay his respects. He knocked at the door for some time and when no one answered, he cried out, but in vain. Before going away he wrote an epigram on the door:

For a wise man ivy and vines

Are protection enough, he needs no door.

Yet this noble lord – who would have thought it -

Hides behind an iron door.

When the master of the house found the epigram, he decided that the two ideograms, t’ieh, iron and fei, door, summed up his character perfectly, and he chose them as a surname. From then on he called himself T’ieh-fei tao-jen: Iron Door Follower of the Tao. He is a wealthy widower and his daughter is his only child. As for her beauty, it is no exaggeration to liken her to a lovely flower, a precious jewel. In addition, her father has given her an excellent education and her little head is full of learning. Poems, essays in poetic prose, songs, stanzas – she is familiar with them all and can compose in any form. Her upbringing, as you may easily surmise, has been extremely strict, and she has hardly ever set foot outside her maidenly quarters. She never goes out, not even to the traditional services on temple holidays, and there is simply no question of visits to relatives and friends. She is sixteen years old and has never been seen in public. Even we three go-betweens and six marriage brokers have no wings, we can’t fly into her living quarters. It was only by the purest accident that I myself caught a glimpse of her not long ago.

“Yesterday I chanced to pass the house while the old gentleman was standing outside the door. He stopped me and asked if I were not Mother Liu, whose trade it was to arrange marriages. When I answered in the affirmative, he invited me in and presented his daughter. ‘This is the young lady, my only child,’ he said, and continued: ‘Now I should like you to look around and bring me a suitable son-in-law who is worthy of her and has the qualities he would need to be a son to me and the prop of my old age.’ At once I suggested that the young gentleman would be an appropriate match. He said: ‘I have already heard of him, he is said to possess high intellectual gifts as well as external advantages. But what of his character and his virtue?’ To this I replied: ‘The young gentleman is distinguished by a spiritual and ethical maturity far in advance of his years. His character is without the slightest blemish or weak point. There is only one thing: he absolutely insists on seeing his future bride with his own eyes before the betrothal.’ At once the benevolent look vanished from the old gentleman’s face, and he became very angry: ‘Nonsense. He wants to see her first – that may be permissible in the case of a venal powder-puff, a rutting mare from Yangchow. But since when is it the custom to expose the honorable daughter of a good family to the eyes of a strange man? A fine thing that would be. An impudent demand, which makes it clear to me that the young man is not the right husband for my daughter. Not another word!’ With this he broke off the interview and sent me on my way. So you see, young man, there is nothing more to be done.”

The young man thought the matter over carefully.

“If I were to marry this beautiful young girl and take her into my own house, there would be no one but me – for I am without parents or brothers – to keep an eye on her. I should have to stay home all day guarding her, there would be no chance whatever to go out. But if I went to live in her house, there would be no such difficulty, for this ancient guardian of virtue, my father-in-law, would keep a good watch over her in my absence. I should be able to go out with an easy heart. The only point that bothers me is not to see her first. What confidence can I have in a matchmaker’s prattle? Why, there’s no limit to what her kind will say in praise of a possible match.” Such were his thoughts. To Mama Liu he said:

“If I am to believe you, she would be an excellent wife, yes, just the right wife for me. I should just like to ask you this one thing: to find some way of my getting the merest glimpse of her and hearing the sound of her voice. Then if the general impression is favorable, the match is made.”

“See her first? It’s out of the question. But if you don’t trust me, why not go to a soothsayer and consult the little straws of fate?”

“There you have given me a very good idea. I have a friend who is an expert at conjuring spirits and telling fortunes, and his predictions have always been confirmed. I shall ask his advice. Let us wait to see what fate decides. Then I shall send for you and tell you what has happened.”

So it was agreed and Mama Liu departed.

Next day the young man fasted and bathed and asked his friend the diviner to his house for a consultation. In the house-temple lit by candles and filled with incense, he solemnly explained the business in hand, humbly bowing his head and speaking in a muffled voice as though praying to a higher being:

“The younger brother has heard of the unsurpassed beauty of Miss Noble Scent, daughter of Iron Door Follower of the Tao, and would like to take her for his wife. But only his ears have heard of her charms, his eyes have not seen them. Therefore he begs leave to ask the exalted spirit whether she is indeed so beautiful and whether the exalted spirit recommends a marriage with her. If there should be even the slightest blemish in her, he would prefer to abandon the idea of marrying her. He fervently implores the exalted spirit to give him some gracious hint, for he does not wish to forfeit all happiness by trusting in idle prattle.”

After stating his request, he made the fourfold sign on his forehead in reverence to the unknown spirit. Rising once more to his feet, he took from his friend’s hand a piece of wood from the magic luan tree, symbolizing the spirit, held it chest high, and waited with bated breath to see what would happen next. Then he heard a sound, as of a brush passing softly over paper. A pluck at his sleeve awakened him from his trance. His friend was holding out a sheet of paper. On it was written a quatrain:

Number 1:

No need to doubt this message of the spirits:

She is first in the grove of red flowers.

Yet there is cause for alarm. So much beauty attracts suitors.

Whether the marriage is happy or not – is a question of morality.

The young man reflected: “It is clear then that she is a first class beauty. That is the main thing. As for the second part of the communication, it does not mince words about the danger such beauty involves. Can it be that the melon has already been cut open? – No that is very unlikely. Let us wait and see what the second communication says. There must be another since the first one is headed Number 1.”

Again he held out the magic wood, then again he heard rustling and received the second communication, which ran:

It would be presumptuous to bank on your wife’s fidelity;

Accordingly, if the husband values domestic harmony,

He will lock the gates and not admit a fly.

The tiniest fly-dropping will spoil a jewel.

Written by Hui-tao-jen the

returned follower of the Tao.

The three ideograms Hui-tao-jen were familiar to our young man; as he knew, they spelled the surname behind which the Taoist patriarch Lü Shun-yang (Lü Yen, also known as Lü Tung-pin, b. 750 A.D.) had hidden; he was also acquainted with the patriarch’s life and personality; in his time, the young man recalled to his satisfaction, he had been a great devotee and connoisseur of wine and women. So, it was his spirit that had entered into his friend during the seance and guided the brush. Well, yes, he had thrown a little cold water on his projects by warning him of women’s infidelity and bidding him to be on his guard. But there was no need to worry on that score. He would have his father-in-law, that old-fashioned guardian of morality, in the house to watch over his wife’s virtue. What else was Iron Door good for? Moreover, lines three and four of the second communication were a clear allusion to him. There could be no doubt that the spirit approved of his choice.

He made a bow of thanks toward the empty air, intended for the spirit of the patriarch Lü Shun-yang. Then he sent for Mama Liu, the marriage broker.

“The spirit has spoken in favor of my marriage with Miss Noble Scent. A personal inspection is not necessary. Go quickly and settle the details.” Thus dismissed, Mama Liu made all haste to the house of Dr Iron Door, and informed him that her client no longer insisted on previous inspection of his bride-to-be.

“But he did at first,” Dr Iron Door grumbled, “and by so doing showed himself to be deplorably superficial, the kind of man who attaches more importance to externals than to superior character. He is not the son-in-law for me. I must have a man of the utmost moral rigor, who takes a thoroughly serious view of life.”

Intent on her fee, Mama Liu summoned up all her ingenuity to overcome his resistance:

“If he wished at first to see the young lady, his only motive was one of kindness and tact. He was afraid that she might be too frail and delicate for married life. Once I was able to set his mind at rest on that score, he was overjoyed to hear how strictly and carefully she had been raised, and how, thanks to your guidance, she had become a veritable epitome of maidenly virtue. That decided him, and he bade me intercede with you to honor him by taking him into your worthy house.”

Flattered at these remarks, Dr Iron Door nodded his approval. Then it was a sense of delicacy that made him wish to see her first? And it was her sound upbringing that decided him? That sounded sensible and argued very much in the young man’s favor. And he gave his paternal consent.

And so on a lucky calendar day the young man was received in Dr Iron Door’s home, and with Noble Scent on the carpet beside him, made the traditional bows to heaven and earth, ancestors and father-in-law. At nightfall when he was at last alone with her in the bridal chamber and she lifted her veil, he fixed his eyes upon his bride in feverish expectation. For to the last moment a doubt had lurked in a corner of his heart; to the last moment he had thought that Mama Liu’s assurance must be slightly exaggerated, a product as it were of poetic license. But now that he was able to view her close at hand, in the full light of the lamps and candles, his heart leapt with delight. Her beauty exceeded his wildest expectations. Perhaps the best way to give an idea of her charms will be to quote a passage from a recent essay “in memory of the glorious lady of Tsin”:

“Over her person hovers a cloud of dark mystery, a veil of unyielding reticence. Her face and every part of her body are bathed in purest beauty. When she smiles, one would like to take her charming face in both hands. But her charm becomes truly irresistible only when she pouts and knits her brows.

“To be sure, her tender waist and the nine sensitive zones of her body seem almost unequal to the battle of wedlock. Her body seems as soft as if it were devoid of bone structure; even a soft chair offends it.”

How shall we describe the joy of union between bridegroom and bride? Once again we leave the task to a recent essay, this one entitled “Springtime in the Tower of Jasper”:

“From beneath half-closed lids the stars that are her eyes flash an angry message: no! Awakened from deep slumber, the peach blossom declines to open its slender calyx. But eager for the fray, the tongue forces a narrow passage between the lips of the fragrant mouth. A blissful moan-and long pent-up feelings pour forth unrestrained. The dew of desire forms into tiny beads on the silken skin of her breasts. Two pairs of eyes open slowly and gaze plunges deep into gaze. Two hearts flare up into red fire.”

Unquestionably Noble Scent was a peerless beauty, but to her partner’s grief she was an utter failure at the “wind-and-moon game” and the hopes with which he had looked forward to his wedding night remained at least seven-tenths unfulfilled. Small wonder. Thanks to the traditional upbringing she had received from her strict, ultra-conservative parents, she wore an armor of virginal modesty and reserve, against which his tender assaults bounded off without the slightest effect. He was quite dismayed at her lack of response to his advances. If he allowed his language to become even mildly daring or frivolous, she blushed and took flight. He liked to play the “wind-and-moon game” not only at night but also in broad daylight, for it seemed to him that his pleasure was very much increased by the possibility of looking at certain secret parts of the body. On several occasions he attempted, in the morning or afternoon, to insert a bold hand beneath her clothing and to strip off her undermost coverings. The reception was not what he had bargained for. She resisted vigorously and screamed as though threatened with rape. At night, to be sure, she permitted his embraces, but quite apathetically as though merely doing her duty. He had to stick to the stodgy ancestral method, and any attempt at more modern, more refined variations met with fierce opposition. When he attempted the “fetching fire behind the hill” position, she said it was perfectly disgusting and contrary to all the rules of husbandly behavior. When he tried the “making candles by dipping the wick in tallow” position, she protested that such goings-on were utterly nasty and vulgar. It took all his powers of persuasion even to make her prop up her thighs on his shoulders. When their pleasure approached a climax, not the tiniest little cry, not the slightest moan of happiness was to be heard from her. Even when he smothered her in tender little cries of “My heart, my liver,” or “My life, my everything,” she took no more interest than if she had been deaf and dumb. It was enough to drive him to despair. He began to make fun of her and to call her his “little saint.”

“Things can’t go on like this. I must find some way of educating her and ridding her of those awful moral inhibition – the best idea would be some stimulating reading matter.” So saying, he repaired to the booksellers’ quarter. There after a long search he procured a marvelously illustrated volume entitled Ch’un-t’ang, “The Vernal Palace.” It was a celebrated book on the art of love, written by no less a man than the Grand Secretary, Chao Tzu-ang. It included thirty-six pictures, clearly and artfully illustrating the thirty-six different “positions” of vernal dalliance, of which the poets of the T’ang period had sung. He brought the book home with him and handed it to the “little saint.” As they leafed through page after page, he whispered to her:

“You see that I haven’t been asking you to join in any monkey business of my own invention. These are all accepted forms of married love, practiced by our venerable ancestors. The text and pictures prove it.”

Unsuspectingly, Noble Scent took the volume and opened it. When she turned to the second page and read the big bold heading: Han-kung yi-chao, “traditional portraits from the imperial palace of the Han dynasty” (second century B.C. to second century A.D.), she thought to herself:

“There were many noble and virtuous beauties at the court of the ancient Han rulers – the book must contain portraits of them. Very well, let us see what the venerable ladies looked like.” And eagerly she turned another page. But now came a picture that made her start back in consternation: in the midst of an artificial rock garden a man and woman in rosy nakedness, most intimately intertwined. Blushing crimson for shame and indignation, she cried out:

“Foo! How disgusting! Where did you ever get such a thing? Why, it sullies and befouls the atmosphere of my chaste bedchamber.”

Whereupon she called her maid and ordered her to burn the horrid thing on the spot. But he restrained her.

“You can’t do that. The book is an ancient treasure, worth at least a hundred silver pieces. I borrowed it from a friend. If you wish to pay him a hundred silver pieces in damages, very well, burn it. If not, do me the favor of letting me keep it for two days until I have finished reading it; then I’ll return it to my friend.”

“But why do you have to read such a thing, that offends against all human morality and order?”

“I beg your pardon, if it were as offensive and immoral as all that, a famous painter would hardly have lent himself to illustrating it, and a publisher would hardly have been willing to defray the production costs and distribute the book. You are quite mistaken. Since the world was created, there has been nothing more natural and reasonable than the activities described in this book. That is why a master of the word joined forces with a master of color to fashion the material into a true work of art; that is why the publisher spared no costs and as you see brought the book out in a de luxe edition on expensive silk, and that is why the plates are preserved along with other literary treasures in the archives of the Han-lin Academy, in the Forest of Brush and Ink, so that future generations may draw knowledge and profit from it. Without such books love between the sexes would gradually lose all charm and ardor; husband and wife would bore one another to tears. Gone would be the pleasure of begetting children, dull indifference would take root. It is not only for my own edification that I borrowed the book, but wittingly and I think wisely for yours as well, in the hope that it would prepare you for motherhood, that your womb would be blessed and you would soon present me with a little boy or a little girl. Or do you really think that a young couple like us should espouse the ascetic ways of your ling-tsun, your ‘venerable lord,’ and condemn our youthful marriage to barrenness? Are you aware of my good intentions now? Was there anything to be indignant about?”

Noble Scent was not entirely convinced.

“I cannot quite believe that what the book represents is really compatible with morality and reason. If that were so, why did our forebears who created our social order not teach us to carry on openly, in broad daylight, before the eyes of strangers? Why do people do it like thieves in the night, shut away in their bedchambers? Doesn’t that prove that the whole thing must be wrong and forbidden?”

The Before Midnight Scholar replied with a hearty laugh.

“What a comical way of looking at things! But far be it from me to find fault with my niang-tzu, my dear little woman, on that account. It’s all the fault of the preposterous way your honorable father raised you, shutting you up in the house and cutting you off from the outside world, forbidding you to associate with young girls like yourself who could have enlightened you. Why, you’ve grown up like a hermit without the slightest knowledge of the world. Of course married couples conduct their business by day as well as night; everyone does. Just think for a moment; if it had never been done in the daylight with others looking on, how would an artist have found out about all the different positions shown in this book? How could he have depicted all these forms and variations of loving union so vividly that one look at his pictures is enough to put us into a fine state of excitement?”

“Yes, but what about my parents? Why didn’t they do it in the daytime?”

“I beg your pardon. How do you know they didn’t?”

“Why, I would surely have caught them at it. I am sixteen, after all, and all these years I never noticed a thing. Why, I never even heard a sound to suggest that…”

Again the Before Midnight Scholar had to laugh aloud:

“Ah, what a dear little silly you are! Such parental occupations are not intended for the eyes and ears of a child! But one of the maids is sure to have heard or seen a little something from time to time. Of course your parents would never have done anything within your sight or hearing; very wisely they did it behind closed doors, for fear that if a little girl like you were to notice anything, her mental health might be upset by all sorts of premature thoughts and daydreams.”

After a moment of silent reflection, Noble Scent said as though to herself:

“That’s true. I remember that they occasionally withdrew to their bedchamber in the daytime and bolted the door after them – can that be what they were doing? It’s possible. But in broad daylight! To see each other stark naked! How can it be? They must have felt so ashamed.”

“I beg your pardon. For lovers to see each other naked in broad daylight, why, that’s the whole charm of it; it gives ten times more pleasure than doing it in the dark. And that is true of all lovers – with two exceptions.”

“What are the two exceptions?”

“Either he is ugly and she is beautiful, or she is ugly and he is handsome: in those two cases dealings by daylight are not advisable.”

“Why?”

“Dealings between the sexes give full enjoyment only when both parties feel drawn to one another body and soul, as though by a primordial force, and long for physical union with every fiber of their being. Let us suppose that she is beautiful, that with her full, soft forms and her delicate, luminous, smooth skin she resembles a well-polished jewel. Drawing her close to him, her lover will strip off layer after layer of her garments, and the more he sees of her, the more his desire will increase; his member will stiffen of its own free will and stand up big and hard and strong. But then suppose that she looks toward her partner and discovers ugly features, misshapen limbs, coarse, hairy skin, in short a veritable goblin. He may have been almost acceptable as long as he had clothes on, but now he lies there before her in all his ugliness. And the greater the contrast between his fiendish aspect and the soft radiant beauty of her own body, the more horrified and repelled will she be. Even if she was fully prepared for physical union, must her desire not turn instantly to nothing?. And he in turn, must not his javelin, which only a moment before was standing up so proud and big and strong, shrink to the most dwarfish size at the sight of her obvious revulsion and distaste? In short, there can be no joyous battle of love between a pair so unequally matched. If they should attempt it just the same, the end is sure to be a lamentable fiasco. Better let them do battle at night when they cannot see each other plainly. That is the one exception.

“The other is the reverse: he is handsome, she is ugly. The situation is exactly the same, no reason to waste words on it.

“And now we come to our own case: here it is equal to equal, radiant skin to radiant skin, well-formed youth to well-formed youth. And now I ask you: Have we any need to take refuge in night and darkness, to crawl under the covers and hide from one another? Should we not do better to show ourselves to one another in broad daylight and delight in the sight of our bodies in all their natural beauty? If you don’t believe me, let us make a try. Let us just try it once in the daytime.”

By now Noble Scent was half convinced. Despite the modest “no” of her lips, she was almost willing. A slight flush came to her cheeks, revealing her mounting excitement and anticipation of things to come. This did not escape him, and in secret he thought: “She is gradually becoming interested. No doubt about it, she would like to play. But her senses have barely begun to awaken. Her hunger and thirst for love are very new to her. If I start in too brusquely, she is very likely to suffer the fate of the glutton who gobbles up everything in sight without taking time to bite or chew. She would get little enjoyment from such indigestible fare. I’d better bide my time and let her dangle a while.”

He moved up a comfortable armchair and sat down. Drawing her to him by the sleeve, he made her sit on his lap. Then he took the picture book and leafed through it page by page and picture by picture.

Unlike other books of a similar kind, the book was so arranged that the front of each leaf bore a picture and the back the text that went with it. The text was in two sections. The first briefly explained the position represented; the second gave a critical estimate of the picture from the standpoint of its artistic value.

Before starting, the Before Midnight Scholar advised his pupil to examine each picture carefully for its spirit and meaning, for then it would provide an excellent model and example for future use. Then he read to her, sentence for sentence.

“Picture No. 1. The butterfly flutters about, searching for flowery scents.”

Accompanying text: “She sits waiting with parted legs on a rock by the shore of a garden pond. He, first carefully feeling out the terrain, takes pains to insert his nephrite proboscis into the depths of her calyx. Because the battle has only begun and the region of bliss is still far off, both still show a relatively normal expression, their eyes are wide open.”

“Picture No. 2 shows the queen bee making honey.”

Accompanying text: “She lies on her back, cushioned in pillows, her parted legs raised as though hanging in midair, her hands pressed against ‘the fruit,’ guiding his nephrite proboscis to the entrance of her calyx, helping it to find the right path and not to stray. At this moment her face shows an expression of hunger and thirst, while his features reveal the most intense excitement, with which the viewer becomes infected. All this is brought out by the artist with remarkable subtlety.”

“Picture No. 3. The little bird that had gone astray finds its way back to its nest in the thicket.”

Accompanying text: “She lies slightly to one side, dug into the thicket of cushions, one leg stretched high, and clutches his thigh with both hands as though his obedient vassal had finally found its way to the right place, to her most sensitive spot, and she feared it might go off and get lost again. This accounts for the shadow of anxiety on her otherwise happy face. Both parties are in full swing, quite preoccupied by the spasmodic thrill of the ‘flying brush’ and the ‘dancing ink.’ ”

“Picture No. 4. The hungry steed gallops to the feed crib.”

Accompanying text: “She, flat on her back, presses his body to her breast with both hands. Her feet propped up on his shoulders, he has sunk his yak whisk into her calyx to the shaft. Both of them are approaching ecstasy. The way in which the artist pictures their physical and mental state at this moment, their eyes veiled beneath half-closed lids, their tongues enlaced, reveals the master of the brush.”

“Picture No. 5. The dragons are weary of battle.”

Accompanying text: “Her head rests sideways on the pillow; she has let her arms droop; her limbs feel numb as though stuffed with cotton. Resting his head sideways against her cheek he presses his body to hers. He too feels as numb as cotton. The ecstasy is gone. The ‘aromatic soul’ has fled, the beautiful dream has passed the peak and evaporated into nothingness. The barest thread of life is discernible. Without it one might think the two of them were dead, two lovers in one coffin and one grave. The picture brings home to us the sublimity of bliss savored to the very end.”

Up to this point Noble Scent had obediently studied the pictures and patiently listened to the commentary. But as he turned another page and began to show her Picture No. 6, she pushed the book away in visible agitation and stood up.

“Enough!” she cried. “What’s the good of all these pictures? They are just upsetting. You look at them by yourself. I’m going to bed.”

“Just a little patience, we’ll run through the rest quickly. The best is still to come. Then we’ll both go to bed.”

“As if there weren’t time enough tomorrow for looking at books. For my part, I’ve had quite enough.”

He embraced her and closed her mouth with a kiss. And as he kissed her, he noticed something new. They had been married for a whole month. In all that time, she had held the gates of her teeth closed tight when he kissed her. His tongue had never succeeded in forcing or wriggling its way through the solid fence. Until today he had never made contact with her tongue; he hadn’t so much as an idea what it was like. But now when he pressed his lips to hers – what a wonderful surprise – the tip of his tongue encountered the tip of her tongue. For the first time she had opened up the gate.

“My heart, my liver!” he sighed with delight. “At last! And now – why bother moving to the bed? This chair will do the trick, it will take the place of the rock by the pond, and we shall imitate the lovers in Picture No. 1. What do you say?”

Noble Scent with affected indignation:

“Impossible. It’s not a fit occupation for human beings…”

“There you are perfectly right. It is an occupation and pastime more fit for the gods. Come, let us play at being gods.” So saying, he stretched out his hand and began to fiddle with the knot of her sash. And despite her grimace of disapproval, she cooperated, letting him draw her close and permitting him to strip off her undermost covering. As he did so, he made a discovery that fanned his excitement into a bright flame. Aha, he thought, just looking at those pictures has sprinkled her little meadow with the dew of desire. He undid himself and set her down in the chair in such a way that her legs hung over his shoulders. Cautiously he guided his bellwether through the gates of her pleasure house, and then began to remove the rest of her clothes.

Why only now?, you will ask. Why did he begin at the bottom? Let me explain: This Before Midnight Scholar was an experienced old hand. He said to himself that if he tried to remove her upper garments first, she would feel ashamed and intimidated, her resistance would make things unnecessarily difficult. That is why he daringly aimed his first offensive at her most sensitive spot, figuring that once she surrendered there she would easily surrender on all other fronts. Herein his strategy was that of the commander who defeats an enemy army by taking its general prisoner. And the truth is that she now quite willingly let him undress her from head to foot – no, not quite – with the exception of a single article of apparel which he himself tactfully spared: her little silk stockings.

After their three-inch long (or short) “golden lilies” have been bound up, our women customarily draw stockings over the bandages. Only then do their toes and ankles feel at ease. Otherwise their feet, like flowers without leaves, are unlovely to behold.

Now he too cast off his last coverings and flung himself into the fray with uplifted spear. Already his bellwether was in her pleasure house. Groping its way to left and right, slipping and sliding, it sought a passage to the secret chamber where the “flower heart,” the privy seal, lies hidden. She helped him in his search by propping up her hands on the arms of the chair and, in tune with his movements, lithely twisting and bending her middle parts toward him. Thus they carried on for a time, exactly in accordance with Figure 2 of their textbook

Suddenly, way down deep, she had a strange feeling of a kind that was utterly new to her; it did not hurt, no, it was more like a sensation of itching or tickling, almost unendurable and yet very very pleasant.

“Stop,” she cried, bewildered by the strangeness of the thing. “That’s enough for today. You are hurting me.” And she tried to wrest herself free.

Thoroughly experienced in these matters, he realized that he had touched her most intimate spot, her flower-heart. Considerately acceding to her wishes, he moved away from the ticklish spot and contented himself with moving his bellwether slowly back and forth several dozen times through her pleasure house with its narrow passages and spacious halls. The intruder made himself thoroughly at home on her property, and she was overcome by an irresistible desire to punish him for his insolence. Choking would be a fair punishment she thought.

Removing her hands from the arms of the chair, she let his back slip down and dug her hands into his buttocks. This enabled her to press closer to him, an operation in which he helped by clasping her slender waist in his hands and holding her as tightly as he could. Thanks to the intimate conjunction thus achieved – they were now exactly in the position illustrated in Figure 3 – she held his stiff thick bellwether firmly enough to start slowly strangling it. While sparing no effort and answering pressure with pressure, he saw that her eyes were clouding over and the stately edifice of her hair was becoming undone.

“Hsin-kan, my heart, my liver,” he panted. “You seem to be on the verge – but it is very uncomfortable in this chair; shall we not continue on the bed?”

This suggestion did not appeal to her. She had the rascally intruder just where she wanted him; just a little longer, and she would choke the life out of him. At this late stage, she was quite unwilling to be cheated of her pleasure. If they were to move to the bed now, he would slip away from her. No, this was no time for interruptions! She shook her head resolutely. Then closing her eyes as though she were already half asleep, she said – this was her pretext – that she was much too tired to move.

He decided on a compromise: leaving her position unchanged, he placed his hands beneath her seat in such a way that she could not slip down, bade her throw her arms round his neck. Pressing his mouth to hers, he lifted her up carefully and thus enlaced carried her into the bedroom where they went on with the game.

Suddenly she let out a scream: “Dearest, ah! ah!…”

She pressed closer and closer to him and the sounds that issued from her mouth were like the moans and groans of one dying. It was clear to him that she was on the threshold. And he too at the same time! With his last strength he pressed his nephrite proboscis into the sanctum of her flower-temple. Then for a time they lay enlaced as though in a deathlike sleep. She was first to stir; she heaved a deep sigh and said:

“Did you notice? I was dead just now.”

“Of course I noticed. But we don’t call it ‘death.’ We call it ‘giving off an extract.’ ”

“What do you mean by ‘giving off an extract’?”

“Both in man and woman a subtle essence of all the bodily humors is at all times secreted. At the peak of amorous pleasure one of the body’s vessels overflows and gives off some of this extract. Just before the flow, the whole body, skin and flesh and bones, falls into a deep, unconscious sleep. Our physical state before, during, and after the flow is called tiu ‘a giving off of extract.’ It is depicted in Figure 5.”

“Then I was not dead?”

“Of course not. You gave off an extract.”

“If that is so, I hope I may do it day after day and night after night.”

He burst into a resounding laugh.

“Well, was I not right to recommend the picture book as an adviser? Is it not priceless?”

“Yes, indeed. A priceless treasure. We must consult it over and over again. A pity that the friend you borrowed it from will want it back again.”

“Don’t you worry about that. It was I myself who bought it. The whole story about the friend was just made up.”

“Oh, that is good news.”

From then on the two of them were one heart and one soul. Noble Scent became an assiduous reader of The Vernal Palace and from that day on she could not praise it too highly. Like a diligent pupil, she made every effort to put her learning into practice, and never grew weary of experimenting with the new forms and variations of the wind-and-moon game. The prim “little saint” grew to be a past mistress at the arts of love. Determined to keep her vernal fires supplied with fuel, the Before Midnight Scholar ran untiringly from bookshop to bookshop, buying more books of the same kind, such as the Hsiu-t’a yehshih, “The Fantastic Tale of the Silk-Embroidered Pillows,” or the Ju-yi-ch’ün chuan, “The Tale of the Perfect Gallant,” or the Ch’ip’o-tzu chuan, “The Tale of the Love-Maddened Women,” and so on. In all he bought some twenty such books and piled them up on his desk.

Together they devoured each of the new acquisitions and then put it away in the bookcase to make place for new reading matter. Both of them were so insatiable in their thirst for discovery that three hundred and sixty pictures of vernal positions could not have stilled their appetite. They were like the lovers we encounter in novels: an orchestra of lutes and guitars, a whole concert of bells and drums would not have sufficed to express the harmony and happiness of their hearts.

So far all was for the best between them. And yet something was amiss; something that injected a discordant note into the harmony of their young marriage.

The relations between father-in-law and son-in-law left much to be desired. As the reader already knows, Dr Iron Door was a crotchety, old-fashioned gentleman, an eccentric if ever there was one. He looked back fondly on the good old times, cherished the honesty and simplicity of our forebears, and abhorred the empty affectations of the profane crowd. Licentious talk was strictly taboo in his presence. What he liked best was earnest discussion on themes drawn from the teachings of Confucius.

The very first evening after the Before Midnight Scholar came to live under his roof, Dr Iron Door looked askance at his fashionable clothing and his smooth, ingratiating ways which the old man judged to be quite superficial. From the very first moment, he took a dislike to this smooth, excessively handsome young man.

“Plenty of fine leaves,” he grumbled in secret, “but no fruit, no solid kernel; from his kind my daughter will get little support in her old age and affliction. However,” he continued with a sigh of resignation, “the forms of this marriage have been observed; he has punctiliously provided his betrothal and wedding presents, and we have draped our house in the traditional red; the mistake has been made and cannot be unmade. Let us wait until the wedding is over; then I will take him under my strict paternal discipline and teach him to be an honest and in every respect scrupulous man.” Such was his plan.

And he put it into execution. From morning to night he brooked no misconduct. The least mistake, whether of commission or omission, brought the young man a sound paternal scolding. Even the slightest incorrectness in walking, standing, sitting, or reclining called forth severe criticism and long-drawn-out commentaries.

But as the only son and heir of parents who had died while he was still a boy, our Before Midnight Scholar had long been accustomed to a good deal of independence. He could hardly have put up for long with all this tedious discipline and pedantic backbiting.

Several times he was on the point of giving his father-in-law a piece of his mind, of telling him in no uncertain terms that he had had enough of his schoolmasterly ways. But then he thought of Noble Scent. A serious dispute with the old gentleman might upset her and introduce an unwelcome dissonance into the hitherto so admirable harmony of their conjugal lyres. Accordingly he controlled himself and swallowed his indignation. But when there seemed to be no end to his swallowing, the effort became too much for him and one day, after long deliberation, his mind was made up.

“From the very first,” he said to himself, “it was his daughter I was interested in. But because he was so attached to her and the thought of her leaving home was so distasteful to him, I did him a favor and moved in with him. His only thanks was to subject me to the crushing weight of his T’ai-shan authority, to tyrannize me in every way he could. By what right? What entitles a worm-eaten old pedant and doctrinaire like him to lord it over me? Do I have to stand for it? He should be grateful to me for putting up with his nonsense and not telling him what I think of his antiquated ways. But instead of that, he goes on scolding and bickering and trying to make me over in his image. Let him practice his pedagogic arts on someone else, not on a dashing young genius like me. And besides, who says that his daughter is the only pebble on the beach? I was planning all along to go out into the world sooner or later, to ‘steal perfumes’ and ‘fish for pearls’ and do some writing on the side. Who says that I have to be chained to a single woman all my life?

“I’m good and sick of being nagged at all day, of being taken to task every time I say a word. Well, it’s a good thing I haven’t stirred up any scandals outside the house; why, the old tyrant would be quite capable of condemning me to death. What is to be done in such a situation? Would an open quarrel help? Nonsense, it wouldn’t change him a bit. Should I be patient and keep swallowing my grievances? No, enough is enough. There is only one possibility: to go away and leave Noble Scent to his care. I shall simply tell him that I must withdraw somewhere to continue my studies undisturbed and prepare for the next examination. That sounds innocent enough, the idea will surely appeal to him. If in the course of my travels chance should favor me and cause another beauty, a love predestined me from another existence, to cross my path, so much the better, Of course I shall not be able to marry her, but to pass a few pleasant hours with a ‘cloud sprite on the magic mountain’ will be very nice too.”

His decision was made.

His original idea was to speak first with Noble Scent and then to take leave of her father. But then he told himself that she would no doubt be dismayed at the thought of foregoing her accustomed bedtime pleasures, that she would stir up a tearful scene and possibly talk him out of his plan. To forestall this eventuality, he modified his tactics and unbeknownst to her spoke first to his father-in-law:

“Your submissive son-in-law is beginning to feel rather lonely and cut off from the world in this remote mountain town. He feels the need of the inspiration that comes of association with eminent professors and with students of his own age. He is wasting his time and making no real progress in his studies. In view of all this he begs leave of his revered father-in-law to set out on a journey; he wishes to visit the big cities in the plains, to look around him and extend his horizons. His aim is to seek out a worthy citadel of cultural life, where he will meet inspired teachers and form valuable friendships among fellow students. There he will pitch his tent. Then when it comes time for the great autumn examinations, he aspires to betake himself to the provincial capital and show his mettle on the intellectual battlefield. He will do his best to carry off first or at least second place, so proving that he was worthy to be received into so honored a family.

“What is your treasured opinion? Are you inclined to grant your permission?”

The stern father-in-law was obviously surprised and pleased.

“At last a sensible word. In the six months since my esteemed son-in-law came to dwell beneath my roof, these are the first words worthy to strike my eardrums. I can only commend your wish to depart with a view to continuing your studies. Excellent, excellent! What possible objection could I have to your plan?”

The Before Midnight Scholar continued:

“You have given me your paternal consent, but there is still a difficulty: I am very much afraid that your ling-ai, your ‘commanding darling,’ will accuse me of heartlessness if I leave her now, so soon after our marriage. In my modest opinion, it might be best to put it to her as though the decision had originated with you, my estimable father-in-law, and not with me, your insignificant son-in-law. Then she is unlikely to create difficulties, and I shall be able to go my way with a clear conscience.”

“Very true! I am entirely of your opinion,” said Dr Iron Door. Soon afterward, within hearing of his daughter, he suggested to his son-in-law that it was high time for him to bestir himself into the world and prepare to win a meritorious place in the second state examination. At first the Before Midnight Scholar showed little enthusiasm for the idea; now the old man adopted a tone of severity and repeated his suggestion in the form of a command, to which his son-in-law could only incline.

Poor Noble Scent was at the very height of her newly discovered conjugal transports. When she heard of the impending departure and separation, she felt like a baby torn suddenly from its mother’s breast. At first she was quite inconsolable. But at length, since it was her father’s will, she inclined like a good, obedient daughter. As compensation, to be sure, she demanded, during the last days and nights, as much advance payment as was humanly possible, on the love debts that would accrue during his absence. He for his part was well aware of the lonely nights ahead of him on his long journey, and did his very best to fortify himself against the impending period of continence. Thus the couple’s last nights built up to a veritable orgy; the young people clung together like glue and lacquer, drinking their fill of the delights which are ordinarily kept secret and of which lovers are reluctant to speak in the presence of outsiders. Then at last the time had come. After taking leave of his father-in-law and wife, the Before Midnight Scholar set out, accompanied by his two personal servants.

My esteemed readers will learn in the next chapter of the extraordinary adventures he was to meet with on his way.