Kai Lung's Golden Hours, Ernest Bramah [romantic novels to read TXT] 📗

of the burden of the hazard they incurred, thereat declared that upon the venture of Lao Ting’s success there must be set two taels in return for one. Whereupon the desire of those who had refrained waxed larger than before, and thus the omens grew.

When the days that remained before the opening of the trial could be counted on the fingers of one hand, there came, at a certain hour, a summons on the outer door of Lao Ting’s house, and in response to his spoken invitation there entered one, Sheng-yin, a competitor.

“Lao Ting,” said this person, when they had exchanged formalities, “in spite of the flattering attentions of the shallow”—he here threw upon the floor a garland which he had conveyed from off Lao Ting’s door—“it is exceedingly unlikely that at the first attempt your name will be among those of the chosen, and the possibility of it heading the list may be dismissed as vapid.”

“Your experience is deep and wide,” replied Lao Ting, the circumstance that Sheng-yin had already tried and failed three and thirty times adding an edge to the words; “yet if it is written it is written.”

“Doubtless,” retorted Sheng-yin no less capably; “but it will never be set to music. Now, until your inconsiderate activities prevailed, this person was confidently greeted as the one who would be first.”

“The names of Wang-san and Yin Ho were not unknown to the expectant,” suggested Lao Ting mildly.

“The mind of Wang-san is only comparable with a wastepaper basket,” exclaimed the visitor harshly; “and Yin Ho is in reality as dull as split ebony. But in your case, unfortunately, there is nothing to go on, and, unlikely though it be, it is just possible that this person’s well-arranged ambitions may thereby be brought to a barren end. For that reason he is here to discuss this matter as between virtuous friends.”

“Let your auspicious mouth be widely opened,” replied Lao Ting guardedly. “My ears will not refrain.”

“Is there not, perchance, some venerable relative in a distant part of the province whose failing eyes crave, at this juncture, to rest upon your wholesome features before he passes Upwards?”

“Assuredly some such inopportune person might be forthcoming,” admitted Lao Ting. “Yet the cost of so formidable a journey would be far beyond this necessitous one’s means.”

“In so charitable a cause affluent friends would not be lacking. Depart on the third day and remain until the ninth and twenty taels of silver will glide imperceptibly into your awaiting sleeve.”

“The prospect of not taking the foremost place in the competition—added to the pangs of those who have hazarded their store upon the unworthy name of Lao—is an ignoble one,” replied the student, after a moment’s thought. “The journey will be a costly task at this season of the rains; it cannot possibly be accomplished for less than fifty taels.”

“It is well said, ‘Do not look at robbers sharing out their spoil: look at them being executed,’” urged Sheng-yin. “Should you be so ill-destined as to compete, and, as would certainly be the case, be awarded a position of contempt, how unendurable would be your anguish when, amidst the execrations of the deluded mob, you remembered that thirty taels of the purest had slipped from your effete grasp.”

“Should the Bridge of the Camel Back be passable, five and forty might suffice,” mused Lao Tung to himself.

“Thirty-seven taels, five hundred cash, are the utmost that your obliging friends would hazard in the quest,” announced Sheng-yin definitely. “On the day following that of the final competition the sum will be honourably—”

“By no means,” interrupted the other, with unswerving firmness. “How thus is the journey to be defrayed? In advance, assuredly.”

“The requirement is unusual. Yet upon satisfactory oaths being offered—”

“This person will pledge the repose of the spirits of his venerated ancestors practically back to prehistoric times,” agreed Lao Ting readily. “From the third to the ninth day he will be absent from the city and will take no part in anything therein. Should he eat his words, may his body be suffocated beneath five cart-loads of books and his weary ghost chained to that of a leprous mule. It is spoken.”

“Truly. But it may as well be written also.” With this expression of narrow-minded suspicion Sheng-yin would have taken up one from a considerable mass of papers lying near at hand, had not Lao Ting suddenly restrained him.

“It shall be written with clarified ink on paper of a special excellence,” declared the student. “Take the brush, Seng-yin, and write. It almost repays this person for the loss of a degree to behold the formation of signs so unapproachable as yours.”

“Lao Ting,” replied the visitor, pausing in his task, “you are occasionally inspired, but the weakness of your character results in a lack of caution. In this matter, therefore, be warned: ‘The crocodile opens his jaws; the rat-trap closes his; keep yours shut.’”

When Lao Ting returned after a scrupulously observed six days of absence he could not fail to become aware that the city was in an uproar, and the evidence of this increased as he approached the cheap and lightly esteemed quarter in which those of literary ambitions found it convenient to reside. Remembering Sheng-yin’s parting, he forbore to draw attention to himself by questioning any, but when he reached the door of his own dwelling he discovered the one of whom he was thinking, standing, as it were, between the posts.

“Lao Ting,” exclaimed Sheng-yin, without waiting to make any polite reference to the former person’s food or condition, “in spite of this calamity you are doubtless prepared to carry out the spirit of your oath?”

“Doubtless,” replied Lao Ting affably. “Yet what is the nature of the calamity referred to, and how does it affect the burden of my vow?”

“Has not the tiding reached your ear? The examinations, alas! have been withheld for seven full days. Your journey has been in vain!”

“By no means!” declared the youth. “Debarred by your enticement from a literary career this person turned his mind to other aims, and has now gained a deep insight into the habits and behaviour of water-buffaloes.”

“They who control the competitions from the Capital,” continued Sheng-yin, without even hearing the other’s words, “when all had been arranged, learned from the Chief Astrologer (may subterranean fires singe his venerable moustaches!) that a forgotten obscuration of the sun would take place on the opening day of the test. In the face of so formidable a portent they acted thus and thus.”

“How then fares it that due warning of the change was not set forth?”

“The matter is as long as The Wall and as deep as seven wells,” grumbled Sheng-yin, “and the Hoang Ho in flood is limpid by its side. Proclamations were sent forth, yet none appeared, and they entrusted with their wide disposal have a dragon-story of a shining lordly youth who ever followed in their steps.... Thus in a manner of expressing it, the spirit—”

“Sheng-yin,” said Lao Ting, with courteous firmness, yet so moving the door so that while he passed in the former person remained outside, “you have sought, at the expenditure of thirty-seven taels five hundred cash, to deflect Destiny from her appointed line. The result has been lamentable to all—or nearly all—concerned. The lawless effort must not be repeated, for when heaven itself goes out of its way to set a correcting omen in the sky, who dare disobey?”

When the list and order of the competition was proclaimed, the name of Wang-san stood at the very head and that of Yin Ho was next. Lao Ting was the very last of those who were successful; Sheng-yin was the next, and was thus the first of those who were unsuccessful. It was as much as the youth had secretly dared to hope, and much better than he had generally feared. In Sheng-yin’s case, however, it was infinitely worse than he had ever contemplated. Regarding Lao Ting as the cause of his disgrace he planned a sordid revenge. Waiting until night had fallen he sought the student’s door-step and there took a potent drug, laying upon his ghost a strict injunction to devote itself to haunting and thwarting the ambitions of the one who dwelt within. But even in this he was inept, for the poison was less speedy than he thought, and Lao Ting returned in time to convey him to another door.

On the strength of his degree Lao Ting found no difficulty in earning a meagre competence by instructing others who wished to follow in his footsteps. He was also now free to compete for the next degree, where success would bring him higher honour and a slightly less meagre competence. In the meanwhile he married Hoa-mi, being able to display thirty-seven taels and nearly five hundred cash towards that end. Ultimately he rose to a position of remunerative ease, but it is understood that he attained this more by a habit of acting as the necessities of the moment required than by his literary achievements.

Over the door of his country residence in the days of his profusion he caused the image of a luminous insect to be depicted, and he engraved its semblance on his seal. He would also have added the presentment of a water-buffalo, but Hoa-mi deemed this inexpedient.