The Red Chamber Read Online Free PDF

elderly woman adjusts the set of a magnificent cape on his shoulders. The cape is of a type she has never seen before, woven of some sort of silky black feather, shot through with gleams of bronzy green iridescence. The boy’s head, with its sleek braid and brilliant black eyes, rises like the crest of some exotic bird from the collar encrusted with golden embroidery. Three girls on the kang are looking critically at him. The oldest one is holding up a basin-sized West Ocean mirror, and the boy is craning his neck to see his reflection.
    “What do you think?” he says.
    “Very elegant,” the old woman approves.
    The oldest girl puts down the mirror and climbs down from the kang to rub the fabric between her fingers. “It will keep him warm and dry, at any rate.”
    But the youngest girl, who looks to be about fourteen, pipes up. “I think boys look perfectly silly in feathers. Better something simple in red camlet or fur-lined felt, I say.”
    “That shows how much you know, young lady,” the old woman retorts sharply. “This is the best quality ‘peacock gold,’ given to the Prince of Nan’an by the Russian ambassador. It’s what fine gentlemen there wear in the winter. This cape is worth a thousand taels if it’s worth a penny. It’s far more valuable than camlet or fur.”
    The boy appears to be much struck by the youngest girl’s opinion. He stares at her face for a moment, before casting the cape onto the kang . “Xichun’s right. It’s too showy. Give it to someone else,” he says carelessly.
    Before the old woman can remonstrate, Xifeng tugs Daiyu up to her. “Look, Granny. She’s here!”
    The room falls silent as everyone turns to stare at Daiyu. She is seized by shyness, but thinking of her mother’s injunctions, she remembers her manners and falls to her knees. “Grandmother,” she says, pressing her forehead to the floor.
    “Raise her up, Xifeng,” the old woman says. Xifeng tugs Daiyu, not gently, to her feet.
    “So this is Min’s daughter. Let me have a look at you.” Lady Jia pullsDaiyu closer. Daiyu expects her grandmother to ask about her mother, or perhaps embrace her. Instead, Lady Jia simply stares at her. Daiyu stares back, trying unsuccessfully to find some resemblance to her own mother. Whatever pretensions Lady Jia ever had to beauty are long gone. Her iron-gray hair is pulled into a tight knob, and her snub nose and broad jaw give her face a pugnacious look.
    “You look like your father,” Lady Jia says. Her tone leaves no doubt that she does not consider this a merit.
    “I can see something of Min in her,” says Uncle Zheng. He has seated himself on one of the chairs near the door and is drinking a cup of tea.
    “Let me see your hand,” Granny says.
    Unable to think of a reason for refusing, Daiyu puts out her right hand.
    Granny clutches it in her hard, dry grip and draws it a few inches from her eyes. “Hmm, very pretty. Fingers as slender as scallions. Even prettier than yours, eh, Baochai?”
    The oldest girl on the kang , the one who had been holding the mirror, looks up and smiles. “Yes, Granny.” Daiyu is afraid that she will be offended by the comparison, but her placid face shows no sign of displeasure. Unlike Daiyu and the other girls, Baochai’s figure is womanly, with full hips and breasts. Her honey-colored gown, though clearly costly, is drabber than the pinks and greens the other girls wear. Her complexion is beautiful: almost poreless, with the flush of a peach on her rounded cheeks. She gives the impression of distinction, but on closer scrutiny her face is not really pretty. Her mouth is rather tight and thin-lipped for her broad face, and her smallish, single-lidded eyes make her face look expressionless.
    “How’s your father’s health?” Lady Jia asks.
    “Good.”
    “How old is he?”
    “Forty-four.”
    “Your mother gave birth to a son some years ago, didn’t she?”
    “Yes, but he died when he was only three.” Daiyu still