Ruan Dacheng (1587-1646) is one of the great late-Ming writers, but his importance as a poet has been undervalued, almost certainly as a result of his political notoriety, which still affects views of him today. However, his outstanding contributions to drama are generally recognised and he is considered one of the leading playwrights of the generation after Tang Xianzu.
Ruan was born into a prosperous official family in Anqing on the Yangtze (now in Anhui province). He studied poetry with his great-uncle, the distinguished poet Ruan Zihua. After obtaining his Presented Scholar (jinshi) degree in 1616, he embarked on an official career, which went well until 1624, when one of the political factions of the time, the Eastern Grove (Donglin), found him to be an obstacle to their plans to dominate the triennial appraisal of officials, whereby they hoped to get their own men into power in the government. Although Ruan had previously had some links with the Eastern Grove (his father-in-law was a leading member), he was unwilling to stand aside for their convenience, and appears to have solicited support from the chief eunuch of the emperor’s court, Wei Zhongxian, or at least he was later accused of having done so. This strategy worked in the short term, and Ruan received further promotion, but after the feeble Tianqi Emperor died and Wei Zhongxian lost power, Ruan was eventually dismissed from office.
On his return home to Anqing in about 1630, Ruan – already a prolific poet – took up the writing of drama in the chuanqi (as it was known in the Ming) or kunqu style of Chinese opera, to be performed by his family’s private theatrical troupe. The play from which extracts are translated here is the first of his plays to survive. It was published in 1633 by Ruan himself, under his own ‘Hall of Chanting What is in my Heart’ (Yonghuaitang) imprint, with illustrations by the commercial artist Zhang Xiu, a personal friend of Ruan.
The immensely complicated plot of this 40-scene play, Spring Lantern Riddles, or Ten Cases of Mistaken Identity (Shicuoren chundengmi ji), can be briefly summarised as follows: a young student, Yuwen Yan, and a young lady, Wei Yingniang (disguised as a man, ‘Mr Yin’), meet while solving riddles at the Lantern Festival and exchange poems. In darkness, each mistakenly boards the other’s boat; Yuwen Yan had been accompanying his father Yuwen Xingjian to an official position in Xiang county, while Yingniang was accompanying her father to the capital. Yingniang is adopted by Yan’s parents Mr and Mrs Yuwen, but Yingniang’s father Mr Wei has Yan thrown overboard; he is taken for a bandit and put in prison, where he is befriended by a perceptive jailer, Doulu Xun. The Yuwens are misled by the discovery of Yingniang’s maid’s body into thinking their son is dead. Meanwhile, their older son achieves success but his name has been accidentally changed from Yuwen Xi to Li Wenyi, and his parents also change their surname to Li; Yuwen Xi/Li Wenyi marries Yingniang’s sister. Yan, released from prison, discovers he is believed to be a spirit; he changes his name and accompanies his former jailer to the capital (this is the part translated here), where he comes first in the examinations and is betrothed to the Yuwens’ (now the Lis’) ‘daughter’. Once he meets his prospective father-in-law, actually his real father, all is gradually revealed; in a happy ending, Yan and Yingniang are finally united.
Even at the time, readers recognised that the misunderstandings and reversals of fortune suffered by the hero Yuwen Yan were an expression of Ruan’s feelings about his political misfortunes. As his friend the distinguished Shaoxing writer and official Wang Siren observed in his preface to the play: ‘The trend of the times was misdirected, and he met with opprobrium and aroused fear and opposition, so that right and wrong changed places.’ All four of Ruan’s surviving plays, in fact, are concerned with identity and the authentic self; these concepts were of great interest to late-Ming intellectuals in general, but had a particularly personal resonance for Ruan. But despite Ruan’s serious concern with authenticity and identity, this play in particular is full of humour. The misfortunes which beset the hero as a result of others’ misperceptions of his identity – is he a scholar, a bandit, a ghost, a spirit? – combine to form such a tangle that we think it will never be unravelled, and yet Ruan brings it all to a logical and successful conclusion. Along the way we encounter such humorous scenes as those translated here.
Scene 31: Disturbance in a Temple
Enter the Priest of Huangling Temple.
You have to believe that gods exist; you can’t trust that they don’t. So when someone has asked you a favour, you have to carry it out. When the Doctor of the Five Classics, Mr Li, was here recently, he handed his son’s clothes and a poem over to me, and enjoined me to display them on the Lantern Festival and the fifteenth of the last month of every year, in order to summon his son’s spirit. Now today is the fifteenth of the twelfth month. Acolytes, why don’t you bring out young Master Yuwen’s clothes and the poem and arrange them on the altar till I summon him.
Acolytes arrange clothes and poem. Priest bows.
Master Yuwen Yan, today is your birthday, come and partake of your feast.
Burns paper money.
The paper turns into white butterflies, without tears to dye them red like azaleas.
Exit.
Enter Yuwen Yan in travelling clothes with a pack and an umbrella.
Wind blowing loud,
Snow like a shroud.
The huntsman stays home;
The bird has flown.
I laugh at heaven’s lord,
This world is too absurd.
When snow has fallen on the Celestial Mountains, the wind from the sea is cold.
How many soldiers on campaign wipe their eyes to look around.
Alas, the human heart is more fickle than water.
Storms arise despite flat calm.
Since I left Brother Doulu’s house, it’s already the fifteenth of the twelfth month, and that’s my birthday: I’m twenty this year. My family are scattered, I’m all alone, and now I’ve run into this snowstorm: it’s absolutely perishing. Still, even though I’m cold and lonely, it’s a lot better than suffering in that dark dungeon. I can see Huangling Temple not far off ahead, and evening’s drawing in, so I’d better slip in there and look for the priest of the temple. After a few days’ rest and in better weather, I can hire a boat and head for Xiang township. Look,
This wretched snow freezes rivers and hills.
Sound of wind howling.
What a wind!
I’m blown along over the ground.
My umbrella spinning round.
Look,
A single spark of a lamp’s red glow.
There’s a rough fence
Shared by a shivering dog and an evening crow.
Here I am at Huangling Temple. The gate is half open, but there’s no-one around. It’s certainly not as lively as at the Lantern Festival.
Brushes snow off his clothes, puts down pack and umbrella, kneels before altar.
Oh Lord, I am Yuwen Yan, and I have come here again to gaze on your glory: I am truly reborn. Today is your follower’s birthday, I pray for your protection in the world beyond.
Gets up and looks around.
Today is the fifteenth of the twelfth month; people must be worshipping, but where has the priest got to?
Notices clothes.
What’s this? Well I never, it’s a suit of clothes. They look like mine.
Picks up clothes and examines them.
Goodness, they actually are mine! How bizarre! How did they get here?
A headscarf in Huayang style
Jacket and robe of red
This belt
I have tied myself; I know its value.
This are the clothes I took off that day on the government boat in the hope of slipping away unnoticed, but I was caught and my clothes seized, and I had no idea what happened to them.
On the boat I stripped, hoping to escape;
They swarmed around and snatched them all.
How dreadful to recall!
I know: after they threw me in the water, the people on the boat must have thought that clothes belonging to a dead man were unlucky and left them on the bank. Then the priest must have found them and brought them here for his own use. What a pity that
Water stains and muddy treads
Have blotted out the fine embroidered threads.
I’m absolutely freezing, and after all they’re my own clothes, I might as well put them on.
Puts on clothes, bows to altar.
If these aren’t my own clothes, they’re a precious gift from the gods.
Notices poem.
What’s this document on the altar-table? Let me open it and have a look. Well, here’s another strange thing: this is the poem I wrote myself and gave to that Mr Yin. How ever did it get here?
When we met in youth
Reciting verse amid the lantern-hung trees
How did the poem come to be an offering to the gods?
I suppose since Mr Yin was drunk the poem must have fallen out of his sleeve and been picked up by the priest. I dare say
His shirt sleeve let in the spring breeze;
His shirt sleeve let in the spring breeze.
I’ll just stow it away safely, and if I ever run into Mr Yin again anywhere I’ll ask him for the poem and see how he explains himself! I’ve been here quite a while now; how come nobody’s appeared? I’d better go in and call them.
An acolyte enters; they collide and fall over. The acolyte sees him and shrieks.
Acolyte:
Oh no! Burglars! He’s pinched Master Yuwen’s clothes and put them on! Reverend, hurry!
Yuwen Yan:
Where’s the priest? I’m Mr Yuwen.
Priest enters, sees him and is terrified.
Priest:
It’s not a burglar, it’s Master Yuwen’s ghost. Come on, everyone, come and chase him away.
Priests rush in, hit Yuwen with sticks and drive him away.
Quickly, lock the temple gate!
They lock gate.
Priest:
Fancy such a thing happening. Master Yuwen appeared, as large as life. It must be that because of the mystery over his death, his soul can’t rest, so he came and put the clothes on. What about the poem?
Looks for poem.
He’s taken that too.
Priests:
What a to-do
It gave us a grue
A ghost appearing and roaming free
A ghost appearing and roaming free
Donning his clothes as living men do
And snatching away the poem too
Priest:
What shall I do? His parents entrusted the clothes and poem to me; if they ever come this way again and ask to see them, they’ll never believe me if I tell them what happened. They’ll just think I broke my promise and spent their money. Acolytes, can you go outside and have a look around under the plum trees?
Acolytes:
It’s blowing a gale out there, we can’t light a lantern. It’s just coming up to New Year; all the ghosts are on holiday. Our reverend has studied magic and can cast spells, and even he’s afraid to go outside. Let’s get out of here and not wait for him to pick on us.
Close the door and recite the Yellow Court scripture
…
Never mind whether the plum trees are here or there.
Pastiche of Tang poems:
To the clear music of the jade flute the cranes pirouette
As the wind blows through high heaven the gibbons sadly cry
It must be that the soul in spring is transformed into a swallow
Which, longing for home, returns to ascend the homeward-gazing terrace.
Scene 32: Name of Lu
Enter Yuwen Yan
Indeed:
When fortune fades, gold turns to tin;
When times are awry, ghosts torment men.
Why ever did the priest think I was a ghost? I know, he must have heard that I was thrown off the government boat into the river, and he doesn’t know that I didn’t drown, so I can’t blame him. I was just going to make him a bow; who’d have thought that all his acolytes would start beating me up without giving me a chance to speak. I got such a fright that all I could think of was running away. It must be because the bad aura around my supposed death hasn’t fully dispersed. Now it’s dark and the snowstorm is severe: where can I go for shelter? I’ll just have to knock on the temple gate and explain everything thoroughly so he won’t have any doubts about letting me stay.
Knocks.
Open up! Open up!
No response. Knocks again.
Voice within:
Master Yuwen, your death was mysterious and you have a wrong to be avenged, but it’s nothing to do with our temple. Don’t make a disturbance here. We’ll burn some paper money for you tomorrow.
Yuwen:
They really do believe I’m a ghost. It’s a waste of time knocking; the more I knock the less likely they are to open up. I’ll just have to take shelter under the eaves for the night and explain to them tomorrow. Surely they won’t still have any doubts in broad daylight! But the wind’s really strong, it’s absolutely freezing. This is awful!
Shivers. Enter two beggars.
The north wind doth blow
And we shall have snow
We’ve a stoup but no wine for our cup
We’re hungry and cold
But as we’ve been told
In Maiden’s Temple a feast’s coming up
First beggar:
Mate, it’s not called the Maiden’s Temple now; since Scholar Yuwen’s manifestation it’s been called Yuwen’s Temple.
Both beggars:
In Yuwen’s Temple a feast’s coming up
So there we will go
And the folks will soon know
We’re in need of a bite and a sup.
Exeunt beggars.
Yuwen (listening):
Look at those beggars trudging through the mud on the way to some temple or other. It must be a place that offers lodging, but I’m in such a mess, I didn’t like to ask. And now there are a lot more people coming from over there.
Enter Zou Nianba and his father carrying a banner, Xu Dengsi and his wife and child, with other villagers.
When gods command
We’re all at hand
To tell fortunes and draw lots
For peace and joy
We’ve made a date
To give thanks for kind fate
We’ve made a date
To give thanks for kind fate
Through snow, through hail
We’ll never fail
To give thanks and praise.
Brothers, we’re all going to Master Yuwen’s Temple to give thanks for blessings received. It’s time we were off.
Yuwen stops them.
Friends, there’s a snowstorm and it’s night-time, where are you all going?
Villagers:
You obviously don’t know that we’ve got Master Yuwen’s Shrine here. It’s really efficacious. Whether you draw lots or do automatic writing, it’s as though he’s speaking directly to you. Today’s the fifteenth, and we’ve all received blessings from the spirit, so we’re going to burn incense to him in gratitude.
Yuwen:
Since there’s really a shrine that’s so efficacious, would it be all right if I go along with you, friends, and ask for guidance on my future through automatic writing?
Villagers:
No problem at all, but you must be sincere. Now after a few twists and turns, here we are. Is there a Taoist priestess at home?
Lots and planchette are prepared. Two priestesses enter.
Nine dots of autumn mist in the black sky
Among green blossoms thoughts of return are never-ending
We always lament that the crane steed will not tarry
And ever regret that as we approach the clouds there is still more to say
Welcome, true believers. And who is this?
Villagers:
He’s a visitor in the area; he saw us on the way so he’s come to have his fortune told too, to find out about his future.
Yuwen and priestesses greet each other.
Zou Nianba:
Your reverence, when I got home that day, my father had been released from custody; the magistrate’s court didn’t give him any trouble at all, they only gave him a small fine. Now we’ve made an embroidered banner and brought it to hang in the shrine, and here’s a tael of silver for your reverence.
Priestess:
Thank you very much.
Xu Dengsi:
When I went home last time, I followed what the spirit told me and got my wife to fetch some water from the garden pond at midnight and give it to the child to drink, and sure enough he got better. Today I’ve come with my wife and child to dedicate him to the spirit. We’ve brought two bolts of white cloth: your reverence can use it to make slippers.
Priestess:
I’m a nun, I don’t bind my feet, so I don’t need all that cloth. But your offering is accepted. Everyone, when we strike the bell and drum, pay your respects and give thanks.
Villagers bow.
Clasping the lots
Grasping the slips
Obscurity comes clear
Truth is made manifest
Alarm turns to safety
Lawsuits turn out well
Zou and father:
We present our
Colourful banner
They bow.
Xu and wife:
As husband and wife
We give our child a new name
Villagers kneel, then stand up.
Priestess:
Believers, this shows your sincere faith. This is a very fine banner. Acolytes, hang it up.
Xu and wife:
Your reverence, please choose a religious name for our child.
Priestess, placing hands on child’s head:
What a sweet child. Let’s call him Purple Protection. The presiding spirit of our temple is the husband of Our Lady the Purple Maiden, so we’ll name him Purple Protection. [Addresses spirit.] Great Spirit, Lord Yu, protect and bless Purple Protection; let him grow to adulthood without trouble and live to be a hundred.
Xu and wife express thanks. Yuwen Yan (aside):
So the spirit is really this efficacious. I’d better use a few coins from the travelling expenses that Mr Doulu gave me, not to cast lots but to request a response in automatic writing, to find out about my future career.
Looks out money and turns round.
Your reverence, I am alone and in distress, with no fixed abode, but as I’m now fortunate enough to have reached this shrine, I must have some good karma from a previous life. I have a small amount of incense money here; I would be most grateful if you would act as a medium for the Purple Maiden. If her prophecy comes true, I will return and show my gratitude.
Priestess:
Your offering is accepted, but you know the way we do automatic writing here is very peculiar; it’s quite different from other temples. There, the priestesses act as mediums for Purple Maiden, but here I act as a medium for Purple Maiden’s husband. The first answer is written with a brush suspended by a string, but if you have further questions, you know the spirit was originally an intellectual, so he’s a bit lazy, and we have to hold the brush for him to write. I thought I’d better tell you in advance; I hope you don’t mind me speaking so frankly.
Yuwen:
He’s a great spirit, of course there’s no question of criticising him.
Priestess:
All right then, sir, you pray and make your wish silently, and I’ll offer up some spells for you to request the spirit to descend.
Yuwen kneels and prays. Priestess lays out paper below the brush. Music within. Priestess recites prayer, and burns paper with spell.
Priestess:
Normally he comes as soon as you pray to him. How strange that there’s no response this time. Perhaps this woman has brought some uncleanness into the temple.
Xu’s wife:
We came to give thanks today: I had a bath first. Of course I wouldn’t bring any uncleanness.
Priestess repeats the burning of the spell. The string holding the brush is burnt; the brush starts to write by itself. Villagers kneel in amazement. When the brush stops moving, Yuwen picks up the paper and reads:
You are a man of learning.
Yuwen nods.
Teaching among the foremost.
I’ve never taught at all, it’s my father who is the Education Supervisor.
Priestess:
Father and son are one flesh, it comes to the same thing.
Yuwen continues reading:
Enduring many sorrows
And countless hardships.
Yuwen weeps.
Indeed, indeed. That’s quite right.
From now on you will escape from your toils
Your fame and glory will gradually become manifest.
I should be so lucky!
You, young scholar,
Remember my words
Far off in the future
They will come true.
Yuwen bows to express gratitude.
That’s very clear advice, thank you for your guidance. But may I request you, great spirit, to sign your noble name, so that if I do indeed achieve distinction, I will be able to inscribe a suitable document to go with the banner which I will dedicate in gratitude.
Priestess:
Sir, I explained before that if you have a further question, the spirit will write through the medium of myself and my acolytes, otherwise he can’t be bothered.
Yuwen:
As you wish.
Priestess and acolytes hold the brush and write. Enter beggars asking for food. Yuwen watches as priestess writes.Yuwen reads:
A visitor from the Isles of the Blest
A spirit from the Cave Court
Well, obviously he’s a senior spirit.
I happened to fall asleep, drunk, at a banquet of peaches
The Queen Mother of the West was enraged
The Lord of the East had to calm her down
And so I was exiled to spend a time in the world of men
Yuwen:
How remarkable, so he was incarnated to spend time in the human world, but it seems that he ascended from the world to be a spirit again. May I ask your name?
Brush moves again. Yuwen reads:
Consort of the Purple Maiden
Yuwen Yan.
Surprised, Yuwen speaks aside:
What an extraordinary thing! Can he really have exactly the same name as me? It’s a bit suspicious. Let me inquire further.
Turns and speaks:
May I ask where you were born in the human world? What sort of family were you born to? And later, how did you meet your end? Kindly explain in detail.
Priestess:
Nobody’s ever asked more than one extra question, or two at the most.
Yuwen:
I have a good reason for asking, if you don’t mind holding the brush again.
Priestess:
If you annoy the spirit, he’ll lose his temper and start scribbling.
Brush moves wildly.
What did I tell you?
Yuwen takes paper and reads quickly, gives a start.
From Wushan county
A well-born student
On an official mission to Xiang township we moored here
Viewing the lanterns I returned to my boat as the moonlight grew dim
And boarded another family’s boat by mistake
Losing my footing
I fell on to the waterside
And so it was that I was paired with a water spirit
And manifested my power
Tut tut, I must really be possessed! Here I am, Yuwen Yan from Wushan county, as large as life, wasting my time bowing down to a miserable bit of stick.
Tears up paper, kicks planchette.
This witch and her cantrips
These ghosts and their antics
Try to cheat us and fleece us
I’m Yuwen Yan
Here in the flesh
Not some Maiden’s Consort
Wielding paper and pen
Priestess, indignantly:
Everybody, you see this disreputable trouble-maker vandalising our shrine without any reason. When our holy Lord Yuwen’s body was laid out in this temple, I myself agreed with his butler that I would arrange the coffin. And not long ago, the Doctor of the Five Classics, Mr Li, undertook the burial. The spirit has been dead to the world for over a year; he couldn’t just appear in the flesh again. If he won’t believe me, fetch lanterns and we’ll drag him round the side of the shrine to have a look at the grave.
They manhandle Yuwen.
Villagers:
He’s obviously a trouble-maker. We should never have brought him here to insult the shrine.
They drag Yuwen towards the grave.
Priestess:
Acolytes, brush the snow off the gravestone. Look, everybody!
They look. Priestess reads:
‘Here lies Yuwen Yan, scholar of the Tang dynasty, from Wushan county.’ And below is a line of smaller characters: ‘Erected by Doctor of the Five Classics Li Xingjian.’
Villagers:
You scoundrel, what do you say to that?
They hit him. Yuwen calls out:
Heavens, Heavens, what can I say? Can there be such injustice in heaven or on earth? Here I am alive and well, and someone else’s body has been buried here as me. And I don’t know who this Li Xingjian is who put up the gravestone. This rotten priestess is using spirits and wonders to swindle all these people, and now they’re all beating up the real, living Yuwen Yan. Oh God, what strange events!
Villagers:
The fellow must be a madman! The inscription on the gravestone is as clear as clear, and he still tries to deny it.
An impressive tomb
An impressive tomb
A gravestone with words inscribed
Who is this addlepate
Who claims he’s Yuwen Yan
And dares a spirit to impersonate?
Two beggars:
You’re spot on, everyone.
We came with one wish
But you’ve lost us our dish
We’ll take you to court
And you’ll eat what you ought!
Villagers leave, cursing Yuwen. Beggars drag him off. Enter Doulu Xun on horseback with attendants.
The mountain pass was frozen
My horse would not advance
In clearing rain, at cockcrow, early I ply my whip.
I have spent the night here at a lodging in Huangling Post Station. There has been a great fall of snow overnight, but luckily the weather has cleared this morning, so I must be on my way.
Sounds within of fighting and cries of ‘Yuwen Yan!’
Where do these shouts come from
And cries of ‘Yuwen Yan’?
Oh, in the distance I can see two beggars dragging a man along who looks like my old friend Yuwen Yan; what’s going on?
Beggars drag Yuwen Yan on stage.
Beggars:
Sir, yesterday evening he was telling lies, pretending to be a spirit, and he prevented us getting a meal.
Yuwen:
It was you who said I was a spirit; what do you mean I pretended to be one?
Doulu approaches and shouts at the beggars:
This man’s my friend: what do you miserable beggars mean by dragging him about?
Beats beggars and drives them off. Greets Yuwen.
Brother, what’s been going on here?
Yuwen:
Elder brother, don’t let’s talk about it, I might as well be dead!
Yuwen jumps into river. Doulu seizes hold of him.
Yuwen:
I deliver up my life to the Yellow Springs
Then I will have no more troubles
Doulu holds on and questions him. Yuwen, weeping, explains:
After I left you, I ran into a great snowstorm. Yesterday was my birthday, and I was planning to go to the Huangling Temple to look for the priest whom I originally met so that I could stay there for a few days; then once the weather had cleared I could hire a boat and travel to Xiang township to find my parents. But to my surprise, when I reached the temple, they all thought I was a ghost, beat me up and drove me out. I suppose they’d heard that the Cabinet Minister had thrown me off his boat and thought I’d drowned, so they were suspicious; I can’t really blame them. But imagine this: when I got to this shrine here, where there were a number of people giving thanks for their blessings, and having their fortunes told by lots or automatic writing, I used the travelling expenses which you so kindly gave me to pay the priestess to tell my fortune, and the hanging brush wrote a paper saying that I would gain fame and fortune.
Doulu:
That’s remarkable. I ought to go and have my fortune told too, to see how my mission will turn out.
Yuwen:
What happened next was really ridiculous. I asked the spirit for his name, so that if my fortune came true I could write a document to dedicate a banner in gratitude. And whose name do you think he wrote?
Doulu:
Whose?
Yuwen:
He wrote my own name!
Doulu:
He might just have the same name as you, you never know.
Yuwen:
It got even more ridiculous: when I asked in more detail about his place of origin and family, they were exactly the same as mine. So I got upset and kicked over the planchette, and then the priestess and the people called me a trouble-maker who’d vandalised their shrine. I was furious and got in an argument with them. It really was the most extraordinary thing.
Doulu:
If that wasn’t extraordinary, I don’t know what is!
Yuwen:
When the priestess heard me arguing my case, she had torches lit and she and the congregation took me round the side of the shrine. There was a big tomb there with a gravestone on top, and when the snow was swept off so we could read it, it actually said: ‘Here lies Yuwen Yan, scholar of the Tang dynasty, from Wushan county.’ And beside this was a line of smaller characters saying ‘Erected by Doctor of the Five Classics Li Xingjian’. When I saw this I was so angry I couldn’t utter a word to ask them to investigate. I don’t know whose body has been mistaken for mine, and I can’t think what induced this Doctor of the Five Classics Li Xingjian to come and bury it and put up a gravestone. Brother, have you ever heard of such a bizarre thing, past or present? Because of the rumpus after I kicked over that wretched planchette, those beggars, who were hoping to get in on the feast, didn’t manage to get any of the food and drink from the shrine, so they’ve been manhandling me all night, and this morning they were going to drag me off to court as a trouble-maker. If I hadn’t run into you, brother, I’d have been in trouble yet again. I can’t complain about them, though: it’s all because of my terrible bad luck, which has caused me so many problems. Now I’m too ashamed to face my parents; I might as well throw myself in the river and drown rather than go on suffering in this life.
I’m like the Liaohai crane
Returning alone
The city survives
But the people are gone
Doulu:
I can’t make head or tail of this. I would have liked to take you to the magistrate and explain everything, in order to clear up your case and put right all the terrible wrongs that people have done you. But it’s nearly the end of the year, and I’ve got to get to the capital. Brother, if you’re too ashamed to go to Xiang township, the coming year is one of the big examination years; why don’t you come with me to the capital and make a name for yourself, and then you can still go and see your parents?
Next year will be
A year of great competition
We should spur on to submit three prize-winning essays
Yuwen:
Even if you’re kind enough to take me with you, I haven’t got any place there where I could submit my documents, and there’s no-one to act as my sponsor. I’m such a poor unfortunate soul, they’re bound to inquire into my origins: not only will I not gain fame and fortune, I’ll most likely be accused of impersonation. What’s more, ‘Yu Jun’ is known as the name of a criminal, and now ‘Yuwen Yan’ is supposed to be a ghost: they’re both unlucky names. The only good end I can come to is death.
Doulu, considering:
I know! We’re already sworn brothers, so you just change your surname to Lu after my name Doulu. I’ve got documents here to be delivered to the capital with recommendations for promotion for people from Zhijiang county, so if you’re included in this patronage, there won’t be any question of an investigation. There’s nothing to stop you coming with me: don’t miss this opportunity!
Yuwen, thoughtfully:
That’s a good suggestion. If I go with you to the capital, even if I’m not successful in the exam, at least it’s a trip in your company. It’s all thanks to you that I’ve gained a new life; I’ll call myself Lu Gengsheng, Born-Again Lu.
The surname Lu comes from a man of authority
I’ll take on the personal name Born-Again
Doulu prays:
Heavenly Lord, Heavenly Lord, bless and preserve Born-Again Lu. Let his troubles be over and happiness come to him, and let him now gain first place in the examinations.
Let us go to Chang’an
Leave the old for the new
And take the first place
Yuwen:
I feel deep gratitude for
The benefactor from my former life
Who has saved me again from trouble and strife
Doulu:
Attendants, take the luggage off that packhorse and carry it yourselves, and saddle up the packhorse for Mr Lu to ride.
Attendants unload luggage, Yuwen mounts.
Yuwen:
I’ve suddenly remembered that lantern riddle, and now I’ve unintentionally found the answer. How strange! It said
A mule paired with a horse
But without its other half
Sure enough, my sworn brother has changed my surname to Lu [written the same as the character for ‘mule’ but without the ‘horse’ radical]. On this journey, surely
The criminal will become Mr Nobody
Offered up to the Imperial Park
Pastiche of Tang poems:
Before I could express gratitude for his kindness, we were divided like life from death
On a chance encounter I enquired about my future course
In cold weather and evening rain in uninhabited hills
I still have someone who is ready to sing for me a song of travel
Scene 36a: Watch this Space
Narrator:
Dear audience, in this scene, the thirty-seventh, we ought to show the Third Metropolitan Graduate Li Wenyi, on his way back to court after defeating Yeluohe, passing by Huangling Temple, where he happens to meet Doulu Xun who’s there on official business. At this time Li Wenyi intends to go to pay his respects at his brother Yuwen Yan’s tomb, but Doulu Xun explains the whole story of how in fact Yuwen Yan didn’t die, but changed his name to Born-Again Lu, and has become the top Metropolitan Graduate. He gives a letter from Yuwen Yan to Li Wenyi to open in person. When Li Wenyi sees it he is overjoyed and thanks Doulu Xun; he includes Doulu Xun’s name in his report on his victory and promotes him to Usher in the Court of State Ceremonial, and they travel to the capital together. This is another remarkable sequence of events. However, the gentleman responsible for writing the script hasn’t actually written it yet.
A voice within:
Why hasn’t he completed it yet?
Narrator, striking gong:
This play is really far too complicated; he’s afraid if he wrote the script for this scene he would get into trouble.
Voice within:
Trouble with who?
Narrator:
Trouble with Chaos. So he’s leaving this bit for now, and he’ll fill it in later on.
Voice within:
How much later on?
Narrator:
All in good time; just wait till the time when his parents have reached the venerable age of 100, and then he’ll complete the old songs and write some new ones. Now would the Doctor of the Five Classics please come on stage, in order for the top Metropolitan Graduate to be introduced as son-in-law and recognise his parents. Before I’ve even finished, here comes Li Xingjian!
[Exit]
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