The Cloud Dream of the Nine by Kim Man-Choong (spiritual books to read txt) 📖

an ignoramus as I from the obscure confines of Cho to push my way in here to a seat among you and to a part in the feast is a very rash and impudent thing.” [p41]

Seeing how humble Yang was, and how apparently unsophisticated, they all felt for him an undisguised condescension, and said in reply: “Brother Yang, your suggestion that we have a trial of skill at the character is very good, but since you are the late comer we will let you off if you so desire. You may write or not just as you please. Have a drink with us and a pleasant time.” So they urged him, passing the glass and calling on the dancing-girls to sing.

Yang looked at the dancers assembled and saw that all twenty of them were persons of striking appearance. Among them was one specially noticeable, who sat in a ladylike and modest way, neither playing nor talking. Her face was very beautiful and her form was most graceful, such as few on earth could rival. She might have been likened to the merciful goddess Kwan-se-eum, who sits aloft in her silken picture. Yang felt his mind moved by her presence, and forgot all about the feasting and the drink. She also looked straight at him, and by her expression seemed to pass him a message of recognition. He also saw that there were many compositions in verse piled up before her, so he said to the gentlemen

“I presume that these compositions are by your excellencies; I would like permission to read them.”

Before they could reply the dancer herself arose, brought them and placed them before him.

He looked them over, one by one. Among them were some fair compositions of an average grade, but nothing striking or of special excellence. He said to himself: “I used to hear that the gifted literati of Nakyang were masters at the pen, but seeing these [p42] I count that a false report.” He gave back the compositions to the fair lady, made a bow to the gentlemen and said: “A humble countryman like myself never had a chance to read the writings of the capital before. Now by good fortune I have had the opportunity and my heart has been made glad.”

The various guests had by this time become quite exhilarated. They laughed in reply: “Brother, you have thought only of the beauty of the composition you do not know what beauty of reward goes with it.”

Yang made answer: “I have already had special proof of your kindness, and in the passing of the glass have been permitted to become an intimate and sworn friend. Why don’t you also tell me what this beauty of reward is of which you speak?”

They laughed again and said: “Why should we not? There is an old saying that the wisdom of Nakyang is very great, and that if in the Government examination our candidate does not come off the winner he surely will have second place. We all here are sharers in the matter of literary reputation, and so cannot act as our own judges. But yonder fair dancer’s family name is Kay Som-wol and her given name is Moonlight. She is not only the first singer and dancer of this East Capital, she is a master hand at the pen, and knows by intuition as the gods do. All the scholars of Nakyang consult her as to the probabilities of the examination. She decides and they pass or fail like the fittings of the tally. Never is there a mistake in her estimate. Thus have we each given over to her our compositions to have her point out their defects, to pronounce on that which specially meets her approval, and to sing it over for us with [p43] the harp. She is our judge, and we await her unerring verdict. Kay See’s name is the same as that of the famous cinnamon tree of the moon, and she will indicate for us the next successful candidate. Won’t you try your hand as well, and is not this a glorious opportunity?”

Master No said: “There is beyond this, too, a still more interesting fact, namely, that the one whose composition she selects and sings will have Kay See for his fair companion. We are all friends here and hopeful candidates. Brother Yang, you are a man as well as we, and appreciate the joys and delights of life. Will you not accept the invitation and be a competitor in this trial of skill?”

Yang replied: “I have not written for so long a time, I really do not know what I can do. Has not Kay See sung you the winner’s verses yet?”

Master Wang replied: “The fair lady has not once struck the harp or opened her cherry lips. Her pearly teeth have not parted, nor has a single note greeted our ears. We have evidently not written up to her demands, so her heart is unmoved and weighed down for shame of us.”

“Your humble servant,” said Yang, “is from the distant land of Cho and though I have written verses I am an outsider, and am afraid to venture on a contest with you honourable gentlemen.”

Wang, however, shouted out: “The Master Yang is prettier than a girl—why is it that he fails in the spirit of a gallant knight? The Sage says: ‘If it is a question of good to be done, step not aside even for your teacher,’ and again, ‘It is the duty of the Superior Man [12] to do his best.’ I doubt not [p44] that Master Yang is no hand at the pen. If he were, why should he be so modest concerning this small venture?”

Now although Yang had modestly desired to decline this unexpected invitation, when he beheld the fair dancer Kay See he was all awake to the occasion. There was no power now to restrain him, so he caught up a sheet of paper that lay on the matting, selected a pen and wrote three stanzas. His writing was like a boat on the sea scudding before the wind, or like a thirsty horse making straight for a stream of water. The various guests caught the spirit of the composition so strong and swift, and seeing how the characters crowded forth from his pen like flying magic, were all startled and turned pale.

Yang then threw down the pen, and said to the guests: “I ought to ask the opinion of you gentlemen first, but to-day as Kay See is judge and as the time allowed is passing, with your kind permission I’ll hand it directly to her.”

The verses read:

“The man from Cho moves west and enters Chin, He sees the wine pavilion and boldly steps within, Now who shall pluck the flower from the tree within the moon, And claim the winner’s honour and the fairy’s magic tune?

The catkins of the willow they float o’er Chun-jin’s stream, The gem-wrought shades of many ply close out the sun between; [p45] Our ears awake to hear a song of special gift and grace, Our eyes behold in silken scenes a gifted fairy’s face.

The flowers of spring are filled with awe and drop their heads for shame, They sense her song, they feel her step, the fragrance of her name; The passing shadows stay their course, unwilled to steal away, The lighted halls of gladsomeness proclaim my winning day.”

For a moment Moonlight let her awakened vision rest on the composition, and then her clear voice broke forth into singing sweet and compelling. The cranes stepped forth into the city commons to cheer her, and the phoenixes made their responses. Flutes lost their charm, and the harp its store of sweet melody. The hearers were intoxicated by the music, and all faces turned pale. Out of contempt they had compelled Yang to write, but now when his composition had become the song that Moonlight sang, their joy gave place to envy, and they looked at each other speechless with dismay. To think of giving Moonlight over to this unknown stranger roused rebellious feelings. Their desire was to break the agreement, but such an act of dishonour was hard to suggest, so they sat gagged and dazed looking at each other.

Yang saw their ominous faces, and at once got up and made his farewell: “All unexpectedly I have [p46] met with so kindly a welcome from you gentlemen, and have boldly taken part in this happy contest. I have eaten and drunk of your hospitality, for which I thank you most heartily. Having still a long way to go I cannot spend more time with you as I would like, but must now take my departure. Let us meet again at the winner’s festival on the close of the Government [13] examination,” so he quickly took his leave, none of the guests detaining him.

When he had passed outside of the pavilion and was about to mount his donkey, Moonlight came suddenly out and said to him: “On the south side of the road you will see a house enclosed by a white wall with cherry blossoms lining the way; that’s my home. Go there, please, and wait for me. I shall come at once.” He nodded and started off in the direction indicated.

Moonlight re-entered the pavilion and said to the guests: “You gentlemen have highly honoured me, and have permitted me to sing a song by which my destined one is made known. What is your wish in the matter?”

They could not hide their feelings of disgust, and said in reply: “Yang is an outsider and not one of ourselves; you are not called upon to concern yourself with him.” They talked and discussed, and said this and that, but came to no conclusion.

Moonlight, with determination written on her pretty face, replied: “I have no confidence in people who break faith. You have plenty of music here, please continue to enjoy yourselves. Kindly excuse me, I am feeling unwell, and so cannot stay until the end.” She arose and went slowly out. Because [p47] of the agreement that had been made, and also by reason of her quiet dignity, they dared not say a word.

In the meantime Yang had gone to his inn, packed up his baggage and started in the darkness for Moonlight’s home. She had already arrived, had put in order the entry hall, lighted the lamps and was waiting. He tied his donkey to a cherry tree and rapped at the double-panelled gate. At the sound she slipped on her light shoes and came out quickly. “You left before I did,” said she, “but I am here ahead of you—how does this happen?”

Yang replied: “The host awaits the guest, not the guest the host. I had no heart to be late, but ‘my horse is slow,’ as the old saying runs.”

They met with great delight as those destined for each other. She passed him the glass of welcome and bade him sing. His voice was sweet and such as to awaken and captivate the soul.

She said: “I am yours from to-day, and shall tell you my whole heart in the hope that you will condescend to take pity on me. I am originally from So-joo. My father was a secretary of that county, but unfortunately he fell ill and died away from home. Because we were poor, and his station far distant, he was buried without the required forms. Having lost his protecting arm, my stepmother sold me as a dancing-girl for one hundred yang. I accepted the disgrace, stifled my resentful soul, and did my best to be faithful, praying to God, who has had pity on me, so that to-day I have met my lord and can look again upon the light of sun and moon. Before the approaches of my home is