The Powerful Eunuch

Xie Yilu and Qu Feng were crammed together in one palanquin, their arms and legs pushing against each other’s. The scent of anxi incense on Qu Feng’s body was so strong that it made Xie Yilu dizzy-headed. 

“Why can’t you rent your own palanquin?” complained Qu Feng, yet his expression was devoid of any complaint. “People will start gossiping if you keep squeezing into mine.” 

“What gossip?” Xie Yilu was listless, his mostly swollen face cutting a sorry figure. “I said I’ll walk alone but you insisted that I take your palanquin.” 

“Fine, fine, it’s all my fault, I asked for it, alright?” Qu Feng nudged him with his shoulder. “I say, why have you been so crestfallen since the end of last month?” 

“I’m fine,” Xie Yilu let out a long sigh. “Hurts, feels bad.” 

 Qu Feng’s brow twitched: “Don’t tell me you… went and saw that penfriend again?” 

Xie Yilu turned his face away in annoyance at being seen through by Qu Feng, who pressed against him as he interrogated, “What, are you not to her liking?” 

The palanquin shook twice and was lowered to the ground. The attendant accompanying them outside reported, “Your Excellencies, we’re here.” 

Xie Yilu rushed to step out of the palanquin, closely followed by Qu Feng. They had arrived in a little alley inside the South Gate called Shawo. The entire alley was lined with official’s palanquins, some coming and some leaving. Qu Feng instructed the palanquin bearers to wait for them in a neighbouring alley and then pulled Xie Yilu inside. 

The alley led to a courtyard and above its gate hung a rectangular plaque inscribed with the three characters for “Hui Chun Yuan1”. A table had been placed behind the gate and a scribe was seated there with an eunuch standing next to him. Xie Yilu was about to step inside the gate when he was stopped: “Money?” 

Xie Yilu frowned. “What money?“ 

The eunuch sneered. “Of course it’s welcoming money — this is a welcoming banquet for the imperially appointed Eunuch Commissioner of Acquisitions2, Qi Wan gonggong3. ” His eyes swept over Xie Yilu’s buzi in disdain. “You’ll give twenty taels.” 

Such a rule did not exist in the Beijing officialdom so Xie Yilu ignored his demand. However, Qu Feng gave him a tug and pulled out fifty taels of silver to place onto the table, reported their names and pushed him inside. 

Aggrieved, Xie Yilu was just about to start spewing criticism when he skirted around the screen wall and raised his head to a garden scene. Green had yet to arrive in full force and the plants were daintily tinged by a hint of yellow. White walls were topped by black tiles and the roofs tapered into upturned flying eaves. If one paid attention, they would hear the gurgling of water as it flowed beneath the arched stone bridge. The two of them were led deeper into the garden, passing by Taihu rocks4, fences blooming with peonies and roseleaf raspberry trellises hung with drunkenly drooping strands of shredded tobacco leaves. Moved by the sight, Xie Yilu sighed: “Well, it is Qi Wan — there’s so much lavish pomp even when he’s come to Nanjing.” 

Qu Feng shook open his folding fan and whispered into his ear, “His host is the Imperial Weaving Bureau.” 

Xie Yilu’s expression changed upon hearing the words “Imperial Weaving Bureau”, becoming a little sour, a little puckered and a little absent-minded. Qu Feng asked him, “Who’s this Qi Wan?”

“A fourth-ranked eunuch from the Directorate of Ceremonial and a favourite of the Great Ancestor. It’s been many years since he last came out to plunder.” 

The two chatted as they walked. The banquet was set up in the north of the garden, with twenty or thirty tables spread around the shore of the lake. The main table was on a little sandbank that extended outwards into the water. Across from it was a pavilion featuring a theatre stage that rose from the water’s surface; the Imperial Weaving Bureau had invited the Hualin Troupe5, who were by now already performing《The Story of the Red Peach · Meeting in the Pavilion6》. 

Xie Yilu and Qu Feng found a lower-ranking table to sit down at. It was a rule set in stone that the lowest ranked officials arrive first and the highest ranked ones last. As such, the tables were gradually filled by those wearing wild geese and peacock buzi7. When all of them had arrived, a man wearing a golden pheasant buzi, his hair and beard shot with white, strolled up to the two of them. He looked cautiously over Xie Yilu and said to Qu Feng in a low voice, “Stand up and go sit in the front.” 

Qu Feng stood up immediately and made his way to the front without even daring to glance at Xie Yilu who, although bewildered, was unsurprised. He had figured out long ago that Qu Feng came from a powerful family — he had just not expected that his father would be a second-ranked official8. 

The crescent moon had already climbed atop the willow trees when Tu Yue and a group of his subordinates escorted Zheng Xian to the banquet. Today, Zheng Xian was like a dew-covered flower; he wore a bright red robe made of zhuanghua brocade, its dragon and cloud designs rolling over his shoulders, and a jade belt wound through rings of gold and silver to encircle his waist. He was already beautiful beforehand, but now, with rouge pressed onto his face, there was no need to look at anyone else beneath the moon or beside the water tonight — his was the only sight one’s eyes needed. 

He walked around the lake shore towards the main table. All the officials along his path, no matter their rank, stood up and bowed, yet he paid no heed to any of them. Rather, he only stopped before Xie Yilu and acknowledged him as “Chunchu”.  

Xie Yilu hastened to bow in return but remained silent. Zheng Xian waited for a while but Xie Yilu made no move to curry favour with him so he left with a chuckle. 

His colleagues around him were all whispering amongst themselves. They were jealous of Xie Yilu’s fame, but they did not dare to openly make an enemy of the Imperial Weaving Bureau; they were too afraid to even say an extra word to him for fear of being implicated in the Bureau’s eyes. 

The troupe sang one scene after another; it was only when the sky had fully darkened that the ‘king’ of the banquet finally arrived. 

Qi Wan was escorted here by Liao Jixiang himself, the two of them walking shoulder to shoulder, head to head, as they chatted affectionately. Qi Wan was dressed in a great robe of purple and gold that featured a sitting serpent design. Next to him, Liao Jixiang’s own outfit seemed to pale in comparison — he made for a somewhat pitiful sight in his little cloud-patterned boots and gold-brocaded moonlight-blue9 yisan that fluttered weakly as he walked. 

They were followed by a large, prestigious entourage, every one of them dressed sumptuously. First came Mei A’Cha and a trusted aide of Qi Wan’s. The two of them seemed to be old acquaintances as they chatted intimately arm in arm. Behind them came Jin Tang, Ruan Dian and others, a hand laid squarely on the sabres at their waists, the serpent design on the knee bands10 of their robes reflecting the rippling waves of water, so blindingly brilliant to look at. 

Officials, civil and martial, all fought to greet them and Xie Yilu could not resist looking either — not at the imperially appointed Eunuch Qi, but at the thin figure of Liao Jixiang. Even now, he still struggled to accept the fact that the person he corresponded with through letters was him. How could that powerful and beautiful hand of calligraphy and those sorrowful verses like “Last night was a cloudless eve, the wind blowing occasionally, and I thought of thee”, have come from a eunuch?

It’s a mistake, there must’ve been a mistake somewhere! He stared keenly at Liao Jixiang, but the other did not spare him even a single glance. Xie Yilu knew perfectly well that Liao Jixiang belonged at the centre of attention, at the cold and lofty heights of power, whereas he himself was no more than a grain of sand in the mundane world of mortals. 

Qi Wan took his seat with Liao Jixiang to his left and Zheng Xian to his right. Anyone with power in the whole of Nanjing city made an appearance tonight. All of the food served were delicacies like sea cucumber and roast donkey11 but only the senior officials12 from each Ministry were given a place at the main table. 

In actuality, Qi Wan was not the detestable “old thing” as Zheng Xian called him. He was in his forties with white skin and good looks. His only faults were that he had grown fat and that he had a nose hooked like an eagle’s beak, the tip of which was burned an irritated red. 

After taking a few perfunctory bites of food, he raised his cup, signalling the first toast. “The reason for my13 visit this time to procure tributes for the Lord of Ten Thousand Years.” He had a pair of smiling eyes that made him appear affable at first glance. “Our Lord of Ten Thousand Years wants to drink Zhejiang tea,” he prattled on as if it were idle gossip. “This time, I’m only passing by Nanjing and I’m sorry to have bothered you gentlemen. I’ll drink a toast to all of you — one thousand years!” 

When officials toasted each other, they did not say “cheers” but rather “a thousand years”. The whole table raised their cups, all of them repeating polite and auspicious phrases as they haphazardly swallowed their wine. 

Placing his cup down, Qi Wan continued, “I’ve brought six hundred makui boats14 with me, three hundred of which are headed for Zhejiang and the other three hundred will stay here.” His intent would not be clearer: this was a demand for Nanjing to offer tribute. “Jinling15 ah, it’s a good place here…” there was a sudden change of tone as he turned to ask Liao Jixiang, “isn’t it, Lao-ba16?

“San-ge17 can rest assured,” Liao Jixiang responded frankly, “Whatever biddings you have in Nanjing, I’ll do them for you.” 

Qi Wang laughed, his large hands cradling Liao Jixiang’s slender ones. “This little brother of mine is well-read and well-natured. You people better not bully him!” 

Hearing this, the entire table was left speechless as they looked awkwardly at each other. However, Zheng Xian understood him perfectly — it was meant for his ears. “I’ll see who dares!” He slammed his wine goblet onto the table. “If the Imperial Weaving Bureau has a need for men, I have plenty of soldiers to spare!” 

Qi Wan turned around and looked him in the eye, the first time tonight that he did so. “Lao-jiu18, I won’t praise you for anything else if not for your forthrightness!” He lifted his cup with a flourish and raised it towards the crowd. “Come, two thousand years!” 

Everyone raised their cups with trepidation and fumbled as they drank their second cup of wine. Qi Wan winked at his experienced and trusted subordinate. A list of tributes was immediately delivered into the hands of the Minister of Revenue: forty-four barrels of carp, twenty-six barrels of swans, a hundred and twenty barrels of fragrant peaches chilled with ice, two hundred vats of preserved vegetables, seventy vats of candied cherries, twenty-three thousand cash worth of salted fish, two hundred thousand catties of spring tea…

“This…” the Minister of Revenue was shocked by these numbers, but before he could form any words, Qi Wan pulled something off his belt and threw it onto the table. It was a golden tablet, with characters written by His Majesty’s own hand. 

Silence immediately descended upon the banquet. Qi Wan lifted his chopsticks, slowing eating from the dishes as he waited. When still no one spoke, his eyes curved with a smile and he gestured towards everyone’s cups: “Three thousand years. Drink!” 

No one dared to disobey him; they forced down the wine that painfully burned their throats as they swallowed. The present officials then lined up by order of rank to offer their toasts. Xie Yilu was also part of that line and because he was standing closer to the main table, he saw Zheng Xian take the tribute list from the Minister of Revenue’s hands and break into a smile as he scanned over it: “San-ge, these Jinling pear trees…”

Qi Wan was still in the dark. “What about them?” 

Eyes sparkling with delight, Zheng Xian shifted his gaze to Liao Jixiang. “You’ll have to ask the Imperial Weaving Bureau.”

Liao Jixiang’s frank response came before Qi Wan could ask him. “I cut the trees down.” 

Qi Wan paused for a moment. “How many did you cut?” 

Liao Jixiang responded, “All of them.” 

Qi Wan’s face froze over in an instant. He did not explode in anger — perhaps because they were both subordinates under the Great Ancestor — but the impatience in his expression clearly indicated his displeasure. He spotted Xie Yilu in the long line from the corner of his eye — that bruised and battered face of his was truly too conspicuous — and saw that he was staring over in his direction. Qi Wan studied him and realised that he was looking at Liao Jixiang. 

“What are you looking at, you sonofabitch!” He casually swiped up a wine goblet from the table and flung it at Xie Yilu. The crowd scattered in a flash. There was not much wine in the cup and it only wetted the front of Xie Yilu’s robe, but the countless probing gazes it invited was truly unbearable. Xie Yilu looked up anxiously and met Liao Jixiang’s eyes — a pair of eyes that seemed to be filled with something that he could not express clearly with words. All Xie Yilu saw was that his Buddha-like lips quivered as he bit back whatever he wanted to say. At that moment, Zhen Xian took the initiative: “No need for anger, San-ge. Come, let me recommend someone to you.” 

He was clearly trying to help Xie Yilu out of his predicament, but it was as if Xie Yilu had not heard him. His eyes remained locked on Liao Jixiang; he wanted to know if the other had something to say or if he had been mistaken. However, when Qi Wan walked over towards Zheng Xian, Liao Jixiang calmly and expressionlessly averted his eyes. 

It was only an accidental meeting of the eyes, yet Xie Yilu felt like his heart had been twisted into a knot. He failed to understand why he could not get over it. If Liao Jixiang had just been a prostitute, he might have forgotten about him after their first meeting, but he just had to be a eunuch, and worse, a vile and damnable grand chamberlain at that. This absurd development had all but turned Xie Yilu’s world upside down and left him hooked on tight despite his ardent wishes to let go. 

The person Zheng Xian recommended was Tu Yue. He led a few of his subordinate platoon and squad commanders19, as well as a row of Vermillion Cavalry20, and held a sea bowl21 in his hand as he came over jovially to offer his toast. In addition to the wine, he also offered up a girl of around sixteen or seventeen years. Qi Wan’s eyes lit up — this was a love of his and he had been known to spend gold like water on affairs with prostitutes back in Beijing. Tu Yue had scratched his itch perfectly. 

The girl’s looks were soft and fair, but her most desirable feature was her pair of three cun golden lotuses22. She wore a skirt decorated with eight-treasure patterns23 and the front of her shoes barely peeked out from her skirt hem. As soon as she wobbled her way to Qi Wan’s side, he immediately picked her up like one would a rare bloom: “Oh, oh, oh, come and rest, my Mistress Chang’e24 — you mustn’t hurt those tiny feet walking!” 

He had the girl sit on his leg while he carefully held her up by her waist. As he spoke, his large hand stroked down her body until it snuck into her skirt. The girl leaned against his arm and giggled. He pulled, once, twice, and took off a shoe. The little shoe was not even a single zha25 in length and was fully embroidered with entangled lotus flowers. Zheng Xian frequently played this game as well, so he filled Qi Wan’s wine goblet for him and gently placed it into the shoe.  

This was called a “golden lotus cup” and it was a refined hobby of patrons of prostitutes. He gave the shoe to the girl so that she could offer it to Qi Wan. The girl squirmed and shyly refused, but anyone familiar with the trade knew that it was merely a tantalising tactic. Zheng Xian waved his hands behind him — first came a voice like a warbler’s trill, then Guo Xiaozhuo, with his face painted in powders and pigments, came prancing out, hips swaying. 

“This year’s spring has stirred my heart most. High and low over painted walls, do my spring longings dance and fly. The dropping roseleaf branches have caught my skirt, as if the blooms are leading my heart to that good place…26”

He was singing《Pursuing the Dream27》, and was dressed in a verdant top and skirt with a floral headdress of glimmering crystals upon his brow. When he glanced back, it was like Du Liniang28 had stepped out of a painting scroll to walk amongst them in the flesh. Qi Wan stared at him in a trance, and though he was not fond of men, he could not help but be hypnotised by this youth. 

Everyone seated tonight had drunk Guo Xiaozhuo’s wine before, but few had ever heard his singing. With a figure like a willow branch, a throat as sweet as honey and the corners of his eyes painted in peony-pink, a shake of this sleeve beside any man’s temple brought with it a gust of fragrance — he was truly a creature to die for. 

Guo Xiaozhuo knew that he was beautiful and enjoyed having men covet him. Tilting his head, he saw a dark-skinned boy with a sabre upon his back, staring at him in infatuation. 

The girl, seeing that Qi Wan’s soul seemed to have been enticed away by this fake woman, hurried to seductively bring the golden lotus cup to his lips. Qi Wan swallowed the wine in large gulps, then ordered her to refill it and to serve it to Liao Jixiang. 

In the eyes of others, this was an act of favour, but in Xie Yilu’s eyes, it was filthy and obscene. As he watched that prostitute’s shoe be placed up against Liao Jixiang’s lips, his mind flashed back to his poems: “Plum blossoms are guests from my homeland gentle; pines are the companions constant beside me” and “The wind and clouds above are real as a dream, while the years on earth flow past like a stream”, as well as that indignant and grief-stricken sigh of “Nan ming29”… how could someone like this bear such humiliation at the hands of a prostitute! 

Liao Jixiang’s hand moved, and, contrary to Xie Yilu’s expectation, he accepted the shoe, lifting it with a small smile. “San-ge,” he placed the shoe beside Qi Wan’s mouth as he spoke drily: “A toast to my guest I hold in this cup, may the dew of lotuses water his lips30. Your younger brother offers a toast to you.”

For a moment, the whole table fell into stunned silence at both his modesty and ingenuity, as well as his ability to compose verses on the spot. Xie Yilu felt like someone had punched him in the chest — it was him, no doubt about it. With his spirit and literary bearing, it could not be anyone else but him. 

Xie Yilu had drunk so much wine tonight that he was unsteady on his feet as he staggered into the grass and passed out. When he awoke, the banquet had long since ended and from a distance came the vague sounds of talking. Initially, he paid it no mind as he smoothed out his robes to leave, but suddenly, a call of “San-ge” floated into his ear from that direction. It was Liao Jixiang. 

“Lao-ba, you’re damning me!” came Qi Wan’s voice. 

Tiptoeing over, Xie Yilu peered at them under the moonlight and saw that the pair were in the lake-centre pavilion. Liao Jixiang was seated while Qi Wan paced back and forth in irritation. The wind rose and fell repeatedly so Xie Yilu only heard snippets of their conversation. 

“… pears, but since there aren’t any pears at this time of year, Nanjing will have to pay me in silver…”

They’re talking about the pygmy pear trees. Xie Yilu hid behind the decorative rock mountain as Qi Wan’s voice grew higher and higher. “It’s written as clear as can be on the tribute list — it’s pears that the Lord of Ten Thousand Years wants! How many pears can a single tree produce!” 

This was extortion using the same tactic as Ruan Dian. 

 “Two taels of silver per pear, I’m not asking for too much, am I? A single tree is then worth hundreds of taels!” 

Xie Yilu’s mouth gaped open in shock. Two taels of silver per pear works out to a minimum of a hundred taels per tree. He had seen the pear orchards growing on the mountains behind the city; there are likely tens of thousands of trees there. Qi Wan was set to reap millions of taels with a single swoop, and the various yamen involved were sure to take their cuts on top of that. This was not just taking civilians’ life savings of civilians — this was driving them to certain death31! 

 “… why did I go out of my way to come to Nanjing? Oh, Jixiang, if I leave two tenths of the silver to you when I leave, you would’ve had enough filial money32 for the whole year ahead!” 

Xie Yilu was drenched in sweat, terrified by the revelation of Qi Wan’s greed and despicable methods. 

“… The Lord of Ten Thousand Years is already unhappy. If it weren’t for the Great Ancestor… without silver, you won’t be staying as Weaving Superintendent for much longer!” 

Xie Yilu could not hear any sound coming from Liao Jixiang. He had remained silent, as if he were mute. 

“… and Zheng Xian — don’t compete with him over everything. What did the Great Ancestor say? He’s the Grand Defender of Nanjing. He might be stationed far from the capital, but he’s been stationed here as a trusted courtier by the Lord of Ten Thousand Years himself!” 

Xie Yilu did not stay to hear the rest of their conversation; he all but ran away from the scene. The hearts of eunuchs are too evil — if it weren’t for Liao Jixiang pre-emptively cutting the trees, the entirety of Nanjing would… wait, he slowly calmed down. Why did Liao Jixiang cut the trees? Was it really because the pygmy pear trees were so fragrant that they disturbed his sleep? The way that Ruan Dian behaved at the prostitute’s place, Mei A’Cha’s midnight visit to the Ministry of War, the Ministry’s rare silence after the Zhejiang Army entered the city, as well as the things Zhang Cai said at the pear orchards… Xie Yilu felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him, wiping his mind blank. 

After that night, he returned to Lingfu Temple nightly, but left in disappointment each time. There was no letter — how could there possibly be a letter? He laughed at his own greed; he had been the one to stride away, shaking his sleeves. Xiaolao Spring beyond Liuman Hill, that hillside gently caressed by the wind, and he who stood beneath it, scented by the fragrance of sandalwood — his leg is injured, how did he walk such a long distance back home? 

Even just thinking about it brought tears to Xie Yilu’s eyes. 

Translator’s Notes

IMPORTANT: I recently found this translation being uploaded onto third-party sites without my permission. This is extremely frustrating because I dedicate so much time and effort to my translations and the knowledge that someone can then reupload my posts is very disheartening. I don’t want to place anything behind a password lock (since the everything I translate can be read for free in Chinese), but if this continues, I might have no option but to do that.

Moving on, the power of a “imperially appointed” official is referred to numerous times in this chapter. These officials, most often eunuchs, acted solely on the orders of the emperor and carried his personal authority with them. As such, their actions and goals were often different, if not contrary to those of the civil government. The result is that civil officials distrust them, but they also are fearful of them since they have direct access to the emperor.

Another concept mentioned in this chapter is that of “welcoming money” and “filial money”. While these look like blatant extortion and bribery today, they were a well-established part of socialising and officialdom in Imperial China. It was almost impossible for an official back then to not participate in ‘economic co-curricular activities’ as they would offend others and doom their career.

Lastly, this chapter mentions two dramatic works: “The Story of the Red Peach” and “The Peony Pavilion”. While I have elected to translate the term 戏曲 as “opera”, it is important to note that they are not the same as European operas as they also incorporate elements of plays, dance and martial arts.

Footnotes

1.  回春园, literally “Returning Spring Garden”. The phrase “returning spring” is a metaphor for revitalisation. [Back]

2. 采办太监, tasked with acquiring goods to present to the emperor as imperial tribute. Although they don’t have much power on paper, their status as “imperially appointed” (钦差) officials means that they are acting on behalf of the emperor, so they are treated with extra respect and flattery by local officials. [Back]

3. 公公, respectful address to eunuchs by non-eunuchs. [Back]

4. 太湖石, literally “Tai Lake rock”. They’re decorative rocks from the edges of Lake Tai, prized for their unique weathered shapes. Visual reference. [Back]

5. 华林部, a famous theatre troupe in Nanjing that held a high-profile competition with rival Xinghua Troupe (兴化部) and won. See this page for more history. [Back]

6.《红梨记》or Story of the Red Peach is a Ming dynasty Kunqu opera by late Ming dramatist Xu Fuzuo (徐复祚). It tells of the love story between a Northern Song scholar and a prostitute. Meeting in the Pavilion (亭会) is likely one of its 30 acts but I haven’t been able its number. [Back]

7. Wild geese (云雁) appear on the buzi of fourth-ranked civil officials while peacocks (孔雀) appears on the buzi of third-ranked civil officials. Visual reference. [Back]

8. This is because golden pheasants (锦鸡) appear on the buzi of second-ranked civil officials. Visual reference. [Back]

9. 月白色, although a direct translation would be “moon-white colour”, it is actually a pale shade of blue. Visual reference. [Back]

10. 膝襕, a band of decorative designs that runs across a robe (or a skirt for women) at knee level. Visual reference. [Back]

11. 驴炙, a cruel dish that involved scorching a live donkey with burning oil to cook its meat in sections. [Back]

12. 堂上官, literally “officials of the hall”. Refers to 1st to 3rd ranked officials, excluding those with lower 3rd rank (从三品). [Back]

13. Qi Wan also uses the special first-person pronoun 咱家 that Zheng Xian uses. [Back] 

14. 马快船, literally “horse fast boat”. Another name for 马船 (horse boat), a type of vessel that was used by the Ming fleet to carry provisions and tradable goods. Its name comes from the fact that it was originally meant to carry horses. If we take a Ming zhang (丈) to be roughly 3.11 metres, a makuai boat would be around 115 metres (~377 feet) long and 46.65 metres (~153 feet) wide. [Back]

15. 金陵, an older name for Nanjing. The name “Nanjing” which only came to refer to the city after the Ming capital was moved to Beijing (since Nanjing means “southern capital”). [Back]

16. 老八, literally “old eight”. “Old” is added to a name to show familiarity. “Eight” refers to Liao Jixiang being the 8th brother. [Back]

17. 三哥, literally “third elder brother”. Refers to Qi Wan. [Back]

18. 老九, literally “old nine”. Refers to Zheng Xian. [Back]

19. 总旗, platoon commander, 小旗, squad commander. [Back]

20. 缇骑, refers to cavalrymen dressed in reddish-orange clothing who are a subsidiary of the Brocade Uniform Guard. It can also refer more generally to mounted retainers of nobles and officials who are also dressed in reddish-orange. [Back]

21. 海碗, a type of wide-mouthed and narrowed bottomed white porcelain bowl with a blue rim. Visual reference. [Back]

22. 三寸金莲, refers to the ideal extremely small foot achieved by foot binding. Three cun is roughly 10 cm or 4 inches. [Back]

23. 八宝, a type of traditional decorative patterns. The exact patterns that make up the “eight treasures” can vary but a Ming example can be found here: Visual reference. [Back]

24. 嫦娥, the moon goddess who floated there after eating an elixir of immortality. [Back]

25. 搾, a unit of measurement based on the diagonal distance from the tip of one’s thumb to the tip of one’s middle finger when one makes a “L” shape with their hand. [Back]

26. 最撩人春色是今年，少什么低就高来粉画垣，原来春心无处不飞悬，是睡荼蘼抓住裙钗线，恰便是花似人心往好处牵: from Scene Twleve of the Ming Kunqu opera 《牡丹亭》or The Peony Pavilion by Tang Xianzu (汤显祖). The first two sentences of my translation are adapted from that of Cyril Birch, which can be found on page 57 of Táang, Hsien-tsu. Peony Pavilion: Mudan Ting (Chinese Literature in Translation). Indiana University Press, 1980. Video of this section being performed. [Back]

27. 《寻梦》, Scene 12 of The Peony Pavilion, as translated by Cyril Birch. [Back]

28. 杜丽娘, the female protagonist of The Peony Pavilion who sings the previous lines. [Back]

29. 难鸣,  literally “difficult [to] voice”. [Back]

30. 手执此杯行客酒，欲客齿颊生莲花: as quoted from the late Ming literati Xu Wan‘s (徐纨) work《本事诗》, during the reign of Longqing (1567-1573), the dramatist He Liangjun (何良俊) took out a golden lotus shoe from his sleeve and toasted famed literati Wang Shizhen (王世贞), who responded with this poem written on a fan the following day. Source. [Back]

31. 死无葬身之地, literally “die without a place for burial”. An idiom for leaving someone with absolutely nothing left and in the most tragic of circumstances. [Back]

32. 孝敬钱, refers to money paid to superiors as a ‘sign of filial respect’, but in reality were just wide scale, accepted bribery. [Back]