The Red Thread

I n Luzhou, the household of the military governor Xue Song kept a maidservant named Hongxian. She played the ruan lute beautifully and had read her way through the classics and the histories, so Xue Song set her over his correspondence and called her his Inner Secretary. In the household of Xue Song, military governor of Luzhou, there was a maidservant called Hongxian, skilled at playing the ruan and also versed in the classics and histories. Xue Song appointed her to manage his official letters and titled her the Inner Secretary.

One night the army held a great feast. Through the din Hongxian said, "The war-drum sounds bitter tonight. Whoever is beating it has had some grief." Xue Song, who knew music, said, "As you say," and sent for the drummer. "My wife died last night," the man admitted. "I did not dare ask for leave." Xue Song sent him home. At a great army banquet, Hongxian said to Xue Song, "The sound of the jie-drum is deeply mournful; the one who beats it must have some trouble." Xue Song, who understood music, said, "It is as you say," and summoned the drummer to question him. He said, "My wife died last night, and I did not dare request leave." Xue Song at once sent him home.

These were the years after the great rebellion, and the lands north and south of the Yellow River had not settled. Xue Song held his prefecture as a frontier command, pinning down the east. To knit the region together, the court had married his daughter to a son of Tian Chengsi, the governor of Weibo, and married his own son to a daughter of Hu Zhang, the governor of Huatai — three warlords bound by marriage, meant to lean on one another. This was after the Zhide era, when the lands of the two rivers were not yet at peace. His prefecture was made a garrison, and he was ordered to hold it firmly and press down the east. Amid the wreckage of war, the military government was newly founded. The court married Xue Song's daughter to the son of Tian Chengsi, governor of Weibo, and sent Xue Song's son to marry the daughter of Hu Zhang, governor of Huatai; the three commands were joined as kin, that they might support one another.

“There was no need to take his life or spare it — the sight only moved me to pity.”

But Tian Chengsi had a sickness in his lungs that worsened in the heat, and he had come to believe that if he moved his command east into the cooler country he might buy a few more years of life. So he picked three thousand of his best fighters, ten times the strength of ordinary men, called them his Outer-Residence Men and fed them well; three hundred stood guard in his house every night. He chose a lucky day to swallow Luzhou whole. Xue Song heard of it and could neither sleep nor eat. Deep in the night, the camp gates barred, he paced the courtyard, and only Hongxian walked behind him. Tian Chengsi suffered from a disease of the lungs, which grew worse in the heat. He often said, "If I move my command east and take in its cool air, I may lengthen my life by several years." So he recruited three thousand men, ten times braver than the rest, called them the Outer-Residence Men, and gave them rich provisions. He kept three hundred on night watch in his residence and, choosing an auspicious day, meant to annex Luzhou. Xue Song heard of it and grew anxious day and night, muttering to himself, finding no plan. Late one night, the camp gates already shut, he paced the courtyard with only Hongxian attending him.

"For a month now," she said, "you have not slept or eaten. Your mind is on the neighboring province, isn't it?" — "This is a matter of life and death," said Xue Song. "Not something you could weigh." — "I am a lowly thing," she answered, "but I can lift this weight off you." The strangeness of her words stopped him, and he told her everything: the estate he had inherited, the debt he owed the throne, and how one lost border would erase centuries of his family's service. "That is easily done," Hongxian said. "Don't waste your worry. Let me slip into Wei country tonight, look over the ground, and count what he has. I will leave at the first watch and report back by the second. Only have a fast rider and a courtesy letter ready; leave the rest until I return." Hongxian said, "For a month, my lord, you have had no rest or food. Your thoughts rest on something — is it not the neighboring territory?" Xue Song said, "It bears on safety and ruin; it is not for you to reckon." She said, "Though I am of low rank, I can yet dissolve my lord's worry." Marveling at her words, he said, "I did not know you were an extraordinary person; I have been blind." Then he told her the matter: "I received my forefathers' estate and the state's deep favor; should I lose this land in a day, centuries of merit are finished." Hongxian said, "This is easy, not worth my lord's grief. I will go briefly into Wei territory, observe its dispositions, and spy out its strength. I will set out at the first watch and can report back by the second. Only first appoint a fast messenger and prepare a letter of greeting; leave the rest until I return."

"And if it goes wrong," said Xue Song, "the disaster comes back on us twice as fast. What then?" — "My going will not go wrong," she said. She went to her room and dressed for the road: her hair combed into a Wuman knot, a golden phoenix pin set in it, a short robe of purple embroidery, light shoes of dark silk, a dragon-marked dagger hung at her breast, and on her forehead she wrote the name of the god Taiyi. She bowed twice and was gone — between one breath and the next, gone. Xue Song said, "And if the affair should fail, the disaster will rebound the faster — what then?" Hongxian said, "My going will not fail." She entered her chamber and readied her gear: she combed her hair into a Wuman knot, inserted a golden phoenix hairpin, wore a short robe of purple embroidery and light shoes of dark silk, hung a dragon-patterned dagger at her breast, and wrote the divine name Taiyi on her forehead. She bowed twice and set out, and in an instant was not seen.

Xue Song shut the door and sat with his back to the candle. He was a light drinker, but that night he emptied ten cups and more and stayed sober. Then a dawn horn sounded on the wind and a single leaf fell wet with dew — he started up, and Hongxian was back. He went to comfort her and asked, "Is it done?" — "I have not failed you." — "No blood?" — "It did not come to that. I took only the gold box from beside his pillow, for proof." Xue Song turned back, shut the door, and sat upright with his back to the candle. Usually he drank no more than a few cups, but that evening he raised more than ten and was not drunk. Suddenly he heard a dawn horn singing in the wind and a leaf fall with the dew; startled, he rose to ask, and Hongxian had returned. Rejoicing, he consoled her and asked, "Did the matter go well?" Hongxian answered, "I was fortunate not to disgrace your command." He asked again, "Was there any killing?" She said, "It did not come to that. I only took the gold box from beside his bed as a token."

"Three quarters short of midnight I was inside the walls of Wei. I passed gate after gate and came to his sleeping quarters. The Outer-Residence men lay in the corridors, snoring like thunder; the guards paced the yard, calling the watch. I opened the left leaf of the door and reached his bed-curtain. Tian Chengsi lay sprawled and dead asleep, his head on a rhinoceros-horn pillow. In front of the pillow a Seven-Star sword lay bare, and in front of the sword an open gold box, and in the box his birth-year and the names of the seven stars of the Dipper, weighted down with fine incense." "Three quarters before midnight I reached the city of Wei. I passed through several gates and came to his sleeping quarters. I heard the Outer-Residence boys resting in the corridors, their snoring like thunder, and saw the central soldiers pacing below the courtyard, passing the call. I opened the left door-leaf and reached his sleeping-curtain. Tian, my master's kinsman, lay within the curtain, sprawled and deep in sleep, his head pillowed on patterned rhinoceros horn; before the pillow a Seven-Star sword lay exposed, and before the sword a gold box opened face-up, holding his birth date and the names of the Northern Dipper's gods, pressed down with fragrant incense and fine things."

"There he lay flaunting his power in his war-tent, easy in his heart as a living man, never feeling his life hang in my hand. There was no need to take his life or spare it — the sight only moved me to pity. The candle had burned to smoke, the incense to ash; his attendants sprawled all around, weapons ranked beside them, one head against a screen and snoring, one hand still holding a fly-whisk. I loosened their pins and lifted their sleeves, and they lay like the sick, like the drugged, and none of them woke. I took the box and left by the west gate. Two hundred li out I saw the Bronze Terrace stand up against the sky and the Zhang River running east; the morning bell woke the fields, and a slanting moon hung in the trees. In three watches of one night I had gone and come seven hundred li, into an enemy state, through five or six walled cities. If it lightens my lord's mind, how should I speak of the labor?" "There he displayed his might in the jade tent, his heart at ease as in waking life; sleeping deep in the orchid hall, he did not feel his life hang beneath my hand. There was no need to seize or to release him — it only deepened my pity. The candle-smoke was faint, the incense burned to ash; his attendants lay spread about, weapons ranged in rows. One had his head against a screen, snoring; one held a fly-whisk, asleep and stretched out. I drew out their hairpins and lifted their garments, and they were as if sick, as if senseless, none able to wake; then I took the gold box and returned. Leaving by the west gate of Wei, I had gone some two hundred li when I saw the Bronze Terrace raised on high and the Zhang waters flowing east; the morning bell stirred the wilds, the slanting moon lay in the woods. In three watches of the night I went and returned seven hundred li; I entered a perilous state and passed five or six cities. Hoping to lessen my lord's worry, how should I dare speak of hardship?"

Xue Song sent his rider into Wei with a letter. "Last night a stranger came to me out of Wei, saying he had taken a gold box from beside the Marshal's bed. I dare not keep it. I return it here, sealed." The messenger rode through the dark and reached Tian Chengsi at midnight — just as the whole army was turning the house over for the missing box. He knocked with his horse-whip and asked to be received at that forbidden hour. Tian came out; the messenger put the box in his hands; and holding it, he fell down in a faint. Xue Song then sent a messenger into Wei with a letter to Tian Chengsi: "Last evening a guest came from within Wei, saying he had obtained a gold box from beside the Marshal's bed. I dare not keep it; I respectfully seal and return it." The special messenger sped through the night and arrived at midnight. Just then they were searching for the gold box, and the whole army was anxious and suspicious. The messenger struck the gate with his horse-whip and asked, out of hours, to be received. Tian Chengsi hurried out; the messenger delivered the gold box; and as he took it into his hands, he was so shocked he fell down in a faint.

He kept the messenger, feasted him in private, and loaded him with gifts. Next day he sent Xue Song thirty thousand bolts of silk, two hundred fine horses, and a train of treasures, with a letter. "My head is yours to keep or take. I know my fault now and will mend it, and give you no more grief. Command me and I obey. As for the Outer-Residence Men — they were only a guard against thieves, nothing more. I have stripped off their armor and sent them back to their fields." For two months after, riders passed easily between the provinces, north and south of the river, and there was peace. He kept the messenger in his residence, entertained him with a private banquet, and gave him many gifts. The next day he sent thirty thousand bolts of silk, two hundred famous horses, and rare things, presenting them to Xue Song, and said: "My head hangs by your grace. I now know my fault and will renew myself, and bring no further grief. I will serve at your command, and would not presume to raise the marriage-tie. The men I set up as the Outer-Residence guard were meant only against thieves, with no other design; now I have stripped off their armor and sent them back to the fields." Thus for two months, north and south of the river, messengers came and went freely.

Then one day Hongxian asked to leave. "You were born in my house," said Xue Song. "Where would you go? And I still need you — how can you talk of going?" One day Hongxian took her leave. Xue Song said, "You were born in my house; where would you now go? And I still rely on your strength — how can departure be spoken of?"

"In the life before this one," she said, "I was a man. I traveled to study, and I read the herb-books of Shennong and healed people of their sicknesses. There was a woman in my village, pregnant, and sick besides with a parasite in her belly. I gave her a wine of yuanhua to drive it out — and I was wrong. The woman died, and the two children in her womb died with her. With one act I killed three people. The courts below condemned me to be born again as a woman, low and common, a servant — but the mercy in it was to set me in your house, where I have lived nineteen years. I have worn silk until I am tired of it and eaten every sweet thing until my mouth is dull; I have been favored past all measure. And now the realm is at peace. To linger would be to defy Heaven; the debt has to be paid. Last night I went to Wei to repay you. Now two provinces keep their walls and ten thousand people keep their lives; rebels have learned fear and honest men can plan for peace. For one woman that is no small work — enough, perhaps, to buy back my old crime and win back my true shape." Hongxian said, "In my former life I was a man, wandering the rivers and lakes as a student. I read the medicine-book of Shennong and saved people from calamity and illness. In my village a woman was with child and also afflicted by a gu-parasite; I mistakenly brought it down with a wine of yuanhua, and the woman and the two children in her womb all died. So with one act I killed three lives. The underworld condemned me, and I was cast down to be a woman, set among the lowly servants, of common temper — yet fortunate to be born into your house, and now for nineteen years. My body has wearied of silks and my mouth exhausted every delicacy; the favor shown me has been great, and my glory great also. Moreover the state is at peace and its blessings without end. To remain would be to defy Heaven; by right I must set all this to rest. Last night I went to Wei, and by it repaid your kindness. Now the two lands keep their walls and moats, and ten thousand people keep their lives; rebellious ministers are made to fear and loyal men to plan for peace. For me, one woman, the merit is not small — enough to redeem my former crime and restore my original form."

"And then I will step out of the dust of the world, rest my heart beyond all things, refine my breath to a single clear stillness, and live on past living and dying." — "Then stay," said Xue Song, "and take a thousand in gold to keep you in the mountains." — "This concerns the life to come," she said. "How can it be arranged in advance?" "Then I shall withdraw my traces into the dust, rest my heart beyond things, clarify my single breath, and endure forever through life and death." Xue Song said, "If not, take a thousand in gold for a dwelling in the mountains." Hongxian said, "It concerns a life to come; how can it be planned beforehand?"

Xue Song saw he could not keep her. He made her a great farewell, gathering all his household and guests for a night banquet in the hall, and sang over the wine to send her off, asking his guest Leng Zhaoyang to set down the words: The water-caltrop song aches from the magnolia boat; seeing you off, my soul thins in the high tower. You go like the goddess of the Luo, riding away on mist — the blue sky has no edge, and the water runs and runs. When the song ended, Xue Song could not master his grief. Hongxian bowed, and wept, and feigning drunkenness she rose from the table — and where she went, no one ever knew. Xue Song knew she could not be kept, and made a great farewell, gathering all his guests and officers for a night banquet in the central hall. He offered Hongxian wine with a song, and asked his guest Leng Zhaoyang to compose the words, which ran: "The water-caltrop song grieves by the magnolia boat; / seeing off the traveler, the soul melts in the hundred-foot tower. / She goes like the goddess of the Luo, borne off on mist; / the azure sky is boundless, and the waters flow on and on." When the song was done, Xue Song could not bear his sorrow. Hongxian bowed and wept, feigned drunkenness and left her seat, and then was gone — no one knew where.

紅線 The original Chinese · honored as an artifact

唐潞州節度使薛嵩家青衣「紅線」者，善彈阮咸，又通經史。

Opening lines, classical Chinese · 傳奇 · Tang chuanqi, via 太平廣記 Taiping Guangji