The Powerful Eunuch

When Xie Yilu and Tu Yao arrived at Shenban1, they ran into several officials from the Ministry of War. The two of them went upstairs via the west corridor, while those officials took the east corridor. The two groups exchanged glances at each other, yet no one uttered a word. Xie Yilu used to be part of that group. Together, they had chatted and joked, enjoying each other’s company over drinks, but now, they were trodding separate paths like strangers.

Tu Yao patted Xie Yilu’s shoulder and pushed him into the room. “Tanhua2 Xie, since you’ve already made the decision, stop grieving for your losses and weighing your gains.”

Xie Yilu felt irritated by him, as there were always traces of threats in Tu Yao’s words. “If you can’t stand me, why bother calling me out?”

“In the future, we’ll be colleagues under Dugong3,” Tu Yao said as he pulled a chair for Xie Yilu. “We should work on our relationship.”

Xie Yilu sat down blatantly. “I already told Zheng Xian on that day, that he shouldn’t count on me for anything.”

Tu Yao summoned a young entertainer4 to serve the dishes and drinks. “I know, I know,” he said as he wiped his hands with a wet handkerchief from the tray. “Dugong had made it clear to me.”

Xie Yilu noticed that Tu Yao was fastidious about cleanliness. As a man trained in kung fu, his attire had always been impeccable. Today, he wore a sapphire blue Yesa5 embroidered with patterns of flying cranes. No sign of wear or tear on the silk threads could be observed around the cuff – it was hard to imagine someone as refined and honourable as him being at the beck and call of a eunuch.

“Do you have a favourite here in Shenban?” Tu Yao turned around and asked. The question had Xie Yilu taken aback, who then realised that Tu Yao was referring to summoning a toy boy as a drinking companion. “Nevermind about it. I’m not interested in this.”

Still, Tu Yao picked two boys and had the young entertainer summon them. “It’s my first time hosting, so I want it to appear good.” After saying so, he took a seat beside Xie Yilu, flipping the cups on the table and pouring wine for Xie Yilu. His gesture betrayed no hints of ingratiation, rather, he acted as if they were old friends.

Out of curiosity, Xie Yilu asked, “Why do you…”

He couldn’t finish his question. Tu Yao looked up at him and smiled, “Why do I follow Dugong?” Leaning back in his chair, Tu Yao sighed profoundly, “For people like us, what else can we do if we can’t climb up the ladder without trading in our souls to a master?”

He spoke the truth. The way scholars oppressed the military men6 was commonplace in both Beijing and Nanjing. Xie Yilu lifted the cup of wine that Tu Yao poured for him to his lips, “Do you know how Qu Feng is doing?”

“He’s fine.” Tu Yao brushed it off as if it were nothing. “Some mere injuries in the skin and flesh won’t have him killed.” Although he was the one who started it all, he showed no remorse, which again brought his fierce and ruthless side out to Xie Yilu. “You didn’t pay him a visit?”

“With my current state,” Xie Yilu shook his head, “it’s inappropriate for me to visit his family.”

Tu Yao let out a “tsk” sound with his lips. Presently, the toy boys arrived — a pair of delicate beauties, young and tender as unbloomed buds. They coquettishly introduced themselves; one was called Zhang San7, and the other was Little Sweetheart8. Tu Yao asked Xie Yilu which one he wanted. Noticing that Zhang San’s figure somewhat resembled Liao Jixiang’s, Xie Yilu became rather embarrassed out of nowhere, lowered his head and pointed at him.

“You’re never interested in entertainers?” Tu Yao caught Xie Yilu’s shyness and laughed out loud teasingly. “Come, come, Zhang San! Go and sit on the lap of your esteemed Tanhua, Lord Xie!”

And so Zhang San approached, his figure swaying gracefully as he walked, and stood by Xie Yilu’s side like a slender, delicate willow – he was waiting for Xie Yilu to stretch out his leg. In the past, Xie Yilu would never even think of engaging in such an intimate play. Yet, for some unknown reason at that moment, he willingly extended his leg, letting the boy sit on it gently.

Just like having no bones in his body, Zhang San leaned softly against him, so Xie Yilu instinctively wrapped his arm around that waist. The slender waist of the young boy made him feel like he was genuinely holding Liao Jixiang in his embrace. Thinking about that, Xie Yilu immediately flushed, appearing as if he was truly aroused.

Tu Yao watched Xie Yilu like he had just witnessed something exceedingly rare, and teased him repeatedly for being pretentiously old-fashioned. Yet when Xie Yilu turned around to look, he noticed that Tu Yao and the boy in his arms also displayed a composed demeanour. Comparing to the old buggers of the Yong Society9, Tu Yao appeared much more like a proper gentleman.

“Tanhua Xie, why don’t you pick a tune?” Tu Yao said as he savoured his wine, holding Little Sweetheart’s hand and toying with it, like how people played with a kitten’s paws. Xie Yilu pondered for a while, and chose Wang Shifu10‘s “Song in the rhythm of December and Yao Folks – Feelings of Parting11“. With a voice especially gentle and soft, Little Sweetheart sang as he tapped his chopsticks to the edge of the table for the beat, “Ever since our parting, I saw the misty mountains afar rise and fall. In distraught, I couldn’t bear the distant waters glisten and shine. I watched the flurry of willow catkins flying, and indulged in the peach blossoms’ charm, face blushing. From my chamber, the perfumed winds wafted through; closing the doors, the evening rain landed still…”

The song reflected Xie Yilu’s heart, so he listened, even became immersed in it. Suddenly, Tu Yao asked, “Did you intercept Zang Fang?”

Xie Yilu had nothing to hide, so he answered affirmatively. Tu Yao frowned and said, “How could the Ministry of War send you there? It doesn’t make sense.”

Xie Yilu tried to brush it off. “It doesn’t matter who they sent.”

Tu Yao leaned closer to Xie Yilu’s ear. “That Zang Fang, he had something with the ‘Weaving and Sewing Bureau.'”

He wasn’t referring to the Weaving and Sewing Bureau, rather, he was referring to Liao Jixiang. Xie Yilu grasped his meaning and immediately asked, “What happened?”

It was at this point when Tu Yao became evasive. “Dugong mentioned it once or twice. You know, since they both came from Gansu12.”

Hearing that, Xie Yilu’s heart started to hover. He sensed a soreness around his throat, as if something was stuck in there, which he could neither spit out nor swallow.

“But that Liao Jixiang,” Tu Yao raised his cup and placed it in front of Xie Yilu, “he is magnanimous.”

Xie Yilu clinked his cup against Tu Yao’s. “Then why don’t you side with him?”

“Liao Jixiang?” Tu Yao was rather amused. He glanced at Xie Yilu and replied sardonically, “Won’t even be able to afford my pants if I sided with him.”

Xie Yilu grew displeased hearing that, “They’re both fourth-rank eunuchs. How could one be inferior to the other?”

“Eh?” Tu Yao moved backwards, putting on a look of close examination. “He cut your throat, yet you’re speaking for him?” It was nothing but a jest, but Xie Yilu fell silent immediately. Tu Yao leaned closer again, lowering his voice. “Liao Jixiang was from the Palace Academy13.”

The words “Palace Academy” clearly startled Xie Yilu. His eyes widened, his entire face frozen stiffly. Tu Yao was not surprised at his reaction at all. “With a eunuch’s body, and the temperament of a scholar, what can he achieve?”

Xie Yilu was still incredulous at the news. “He’s from the Palace Academy?”

“Right,” Tu Yao finished his wine cup after cup. With alcohol affecting his mind, his finger pointed quite impolitely at Xie Yilu’s chest. “He studied all the Confucian classics14, just like you.”

“Coming from the Palace Academy…” Xie Yilu spoke in haste, “he should have then entered the Bureau of Documents15 and then…” He didn’t utter those words, Si Li Jian16, where the power over the entire kingdom was held.

“Yet His Majesty had him kicked out of the palace, and kicked him all the way to Gansu,” Tu Yao jeered mockingly. “If it weren’t for the Elder Master’s favour, how could a cripple like him sit in the main seat of the Nanjing’s Weaving and Sewing Bureau?”

Xie Yilu’s hand clenched tightly on his knee. He loathed Tu Yao’s words, yet he felt even more concerned and hurt for Liao Jixiang. No wonder he possessed such extraordinary literary talent and calligraphy. They had wronged him by leaving him wasted in Nanjing!

“Last time, you dared to insult him openly at the Zhebo Buddhist Temple17,” Tu Yao suddenly put on a horrified expression. “That person had read books and written assignments for His Majesty! Leaving a cut on your throat is merely a light punishment!”

“Dreading the arrival of dusk, yet suddenly ’tis dusk again; fearing the sorrow in my heart, yet my sorrows withered my soul. The new stains of tears covered the old stains, layer by layer; one anguished soul missing the other, again and again!” Little Sweetheart sang, his voice poignant and full of melancholy. After reaching the high notes, his voice transitioned, drifting and then floating down to the new verse, “And this spring, my delicate flesh thinned even more, so was my waistband, loose by three inches more…”

Xie Yilu fixed his eyes on this young entertainer. How could he understand any of the sorrow within the melody? How could he grasp the anguish and bitterness of the heartbroken? He tried and tried, but still, his eyes turned red uncontrollably. At that moment, Zhang San reached out from Xie Yilu’s arms, cupping Xie Yilu’s face and turning it towards him. “My lord,” Zhang San asked seductively, “you’re only looking at him, and not me?”

Xie Yilu stared at him, his eyes unfaltering. What a lovely beauty fresh and young as a new blossom, yet he’ll inevitably wither with time passing fast as a river.18 When Liao Jixiang was of his age, he should have just arrived in Gansu. With nothing but yellow sand stretching as far as the eyes could see, with nothing but the freezing north winds growling in his ears. Even if he shouted hysterically with all his might, no one would ever hear… Xie Yilu suddenly took the young boy in his embrace, pressing him seamlessly against his chest. Like a true patron to the pleasure house, he rubbed that delicate, slim waist back and forth in his hand.

Zhang San giggled. He pressed his warm lips against Xie Yilu’s ear. “My lord, will you spend the night, my lord?”

Xie Yilu stealthily dried his eyes with his sleeve. He let go of the boy, turning his head away rather embarrassed, “No, I’m leaving.”

Zhang San immediately threw himself at Xie Yilu again. “This one19 can tell, my lord, you haven’t tasted…” He leaned closer and whispered a few words at Xie Yilu’s ear, making him blush instantly. He then hugged Xie Yilu’s neck and asked, “My lord, do you only have one at home?”

Indeed, Xie Yilu did not have a concubine. Zhang San trailed his hand down Xie Yilu’s robe and said, “If you’ve never tasted the fruits grown outside a garden, how could you say you’re a man…”

Xie Yilu eagerly evaded his hand. “You… wouldn’t you hurt?”

This question came out of nowhere, and stunned this veteran of pleasure. Still astonished, Zhang San heard Xie Yilu explaining artlessly, “I’m just afraid that if I did… you hurt… injured.”

A tender shyness surfaced on Zhang San’s face. “If it’s done properly, it won’t hurt,” he said sweetly, his finger caressing Xie Yilu’s lips, “If you stay, I won’t take your money.”

Xie Yilu did think about it, wanting to explore the secrets of this deed. Yet the moment Liao Jixiang came to his mind, he firmly shook his head. Zhang San cast a reproachful glance at him. However, little did this young entertainer know, that although Xie Yilu was embracing him, his heart had long belonged to someone too lofty to be achieved.

Translator’s words:

There you have it, Chapter 23!

I hope the footnotes about Chinese history are informative and fun:) And finally, finally we’re getting a glimpse of Liao Jixiang’s past. More will be revealed in the next chapter. Please get ready for some deeply emotional moments.

During my translation of Da Dang, I actually find that translating poems is particularly fun, so I’ll just add a bit extra info about the poem above:

“Ever since our parting, I saw the misty mountains afar rise and fall. In distraught, I couldn’t bear the distant waters glisten and shine. I watched the flurry of willow catkins flying, and indulged in the peach blossoms’ charm, face blushing. From my chamber, the perfumed winds wafted through; closing the doors, the evening rain landed still…”

This verse describes the scenes and objects the girl saw after she parted with her lover. Her eyes shifted from looking at the larger, further objects (the mountain and the river), to objects in her daily life (her chamber, the door and the rain), and at the same time, we were able to examine her feelings from the outside to the inside, and emphasise with her.

“Dreading the arrival of dusk, yet suddenly ’tis dusk again; fearing the sorrow in my heart, yet my sorrows withered my soul. The new stains of tears covered the old stains, layer by layer; one anguished soul missing the other, again and again!”

Like the original poem, I intentionally repeated a word or two in every sentence. The repeatedly mentioned words symbolise the intense yearning and loneliness the girl felt, bringing the emotions in the poem to a peak.

“And this spring, my delicate flesh thinned even more, so was my waistband, loose by three inches more…”

And at last, we see what happened to the girl as she spent her days waiting for her love. She was losing weight, and her waistband now appeared loose around her waist. Perhaps it’s because she couldn’t sleep well, or perhaps she didn’t feel like eating. Regardless, we know that she suffered immensely from parting with her love. Hopefully, her love could return to her side.

Footnotes

Shenban, 申班, the name of this restaurant/brothel. 

Tanhua, 探花, refers to the second place in the national Imperial Examinations. 

The original text here is Dugong, 督公, an unofficial title for powerful eunuchs such as Zheng Xian or Liao Jixiang. 

The original text here is Xizi, 戏子. In ancient China, singing traditional Chinese opera or dancing is considered as one of the lowest and least respected occupations. Being an opera singer in ancient China was often associated with offering sexual services too. Restaurant/brothel with fine wine, delicacies and skilled entertainers in singing and dancing was common in ancient China. These places were often equipped with private rooms for the guests to enjoy themselves. 

Yesa, 曳撒, is a type of Hanfu (traditional Chinese clothing) in Ming dynasty. Often worn by men as uniforms at work. It is a word derived from Mongolian, so the pronunciation in some texts is Yisan. See a picture of Yesa here. 

Just some historical background here. The oppression of scholars and civil servants over the military men originated in the Song Dynasty. This is known as Zhong Wen Qing Wu, 重文轻武, literally “placing more emphasis on the scholars and civil servants over the military men”. The Tang Dynasty precedes the Song Dynasty. The Tang Dynasty used to place heavy emphasis on the country’s military prowess, which eventually led to multiple rebellions and brought the end of an empire. Then, after years of war and chaos, the Song Dynasty was founded. In fact, the first emperor of the Song Dynasty, Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyin, 赵匡胤, established the Song Dynasty by leading a rebellion himself. As a previous rebellion leader, Zhao Kuangyin couldn’t be clearer about the potential threats of powerful generals with a large army. Hence, he hosted a banquet with all of his best generals, and told them of his worries. By conveying his concerns subtly to his subordinates, the generals were forced to surrender their leadership in the army, and Zhao Kuangyin rewarded his generals with bountiful money. This is also known as Bei Jiu Shi Bing Quan, 杯酒释兵权, which literally means “to resolve the power to lead an army over a cup of wine”. After this incident, the Song Dynasty mainly appointed scholars and civil servants as the leaders of an army, which greatly enforced the power of an authoritarian central government. Following the Song Dynasty’s example, the Ming Dynasty used a similar approach in running the kingdom, which was shown by Tu Yao’s words.  

Zhang San, 张三, a very common name in Chinese society, which is also used to refer to nobody.  

Little Sweetheart, or Xiao Wenrou. Xiao, 小, means little, and Wenrou, 温柔, refers to a gentle and loving manner, so I translated it to “sweetheart”.  

Yong Society, or Yong She, 咏社, is a society established by officials. Note: officials refer to the ‘real men’ working in the ministry. These officials often hate eunuchs and despise them. This society is standing on the opposite end of the eunuch’s party. 

Wang Shifu, 王实甫, a play writer of the Yuan Dynasty. After he resigned his position in the court, he spent a large amount of time in brothels. This poem was written to describe the young girls’ feelings after parting with their lovers. 

For poem songs of the Song Dynasty and Yuan Dynasty, the first part of the title usually dictates which rhythms the song is using, and the second part of the title reveals the contents or feelings of the poem. The ancient poets picked a specific rhythm, so that his poem could be sung in any piece of music with the identical rhythm. In this case, Song in the rhythm of December and Yao Folks, or Shieryue Guo Yaominge – Feelings of Parting, 十二月过尧民歌·别情, uses two sets of rhythms, Shieryue and Yaominge, for the first and second verse of the song. The rhythm of Shieryue, or December, requires six lines each containing seven characters, hence it goes “自别后遥山隐隐，更那堪远水粼粼，见杨柳飞绵滚滚，对桃花醉脸醺醺。透内阁香风阵阵，掩重门暮雨纷纷”. The rhythm of Yaominge, or Yao Folks, requires two sentences with eight characters, two lines with seven characters, and then a short phrase of two characters followed by two sentences with five characters each, and it goes “怕黄昏忽地又黄昏，不销魂怎地不销魂？新啼痕压旧啼痕，断肠人忆断肠人。今春，香肌瘦几分？搂带宽三寸”. The translation of the whole poem will be included inside the story. 

Gansu, 甘肃, a province in north-central China, known for its deserts, as well as its cold and dry climate. Gansu was an area of military significance in ancient China as it was the northern border of the country. 

Palace Academy, or Nei Shu Tang, 内书堂, which literally means “a school inside the palace”. It was established in the mid Ming Dynasty, for the eunuchs to attend school and learn to read and write. Many famous scholars were appointed as the teachers in the Palace Academy. It is recorded that in the late Ming Dynasty (when our story took place), the eunuchs studying in the Palace Academy could also study poems and politics if they were motivated.  

These books are collectively known as Sishu Wujing, 四书五经, Four Books and Five Classics. These are the classics of Confucianism and would be tested in the Imperial Examination, Keju, 科举. It takes tremendous effort and time to achieve the best grades in the exams. 

The original term here is Wenshu Fang, 文书方, which is where the scholars and officials handle official documents, including the drafting, editing, and archiving of imperial decrees, edicts, and other administrative writings. The members working here should be well-versed in literature, calligraphy, and the Confucian classics, and by working in this office, they have direct access to the top-secret intelligence.  

Si Li Jian, 司礼监, one of the twelve departments manned by eunuchs. The Si Li Jian is in charge of all matters regarding the royal activities, court etiquette, the law, and it manages the royal errands and hearings in the imperial city. It can be used to balance the power of ministers, and it is considered to be the leading department among the twelve.  

The original text here is Zhebo Chan Si, 折钵禅寺. First appeared in Chapter 8. 

This is a poem originated from the lines of The Peony Pavilion, or Mudan Ting, 牡丹亭, a romantic tragicomedy play written by dramatist Tang Xianzu in 1598.

Ruhua Meijuan Sui Shui Liu Nian, 如花美眷随水流年. 

“This One” is used only by eunuchs to address themselves. When “this one” isn’t capitalised, it is used by people other than eunuchs who try to stay humble in a conversation.