The Cloud Dream of the Nine - Kim ManChoong

Cloudlet replied: “I have been specially loved by you, my dearest mistress, and you have always been partial to me. Never can I repay a thousandth part of what you have done. If I could but hold your dressing mirror for you for ever I should be satisfied.”

“I have always known your faithful heart,” said Jewel, “and now I want to propose something to you. You know that Master Yang made a ninny of me when he played the harp in our inner compound. I am put to confusion by it for ever. Only by you, Cloudlet, can I ever hope to wipe out the disgrace. Now I must tell you; we have a summer pavilion, you know, in a secluded part of South Mountain not far from the capital. Its surroundings and views are beautiful, like a world of the fairies. We could prepare a marriage chamber there, and get my cousin Thirteen to lead Master Yang into the mystery of it. If we do this he will never again attempt a disguise or to deceive anyone with his harp; and I shall have wiped out the memory of those hours that we sat face to face. I am only desirous that you, Cloudlet, will not mind taking your part in it.”

Cloudlet said in reply: “How could I think of crossing your dear wishes, and yet on the other hand how could I ever again dare to look Master Yang in the face?”

The young mistress made answer: “One who has played a joke upon another never feels as bad when put to shame as one who has simply had the joke put upon him.”

Cloudlet laughed and said: “Well then, even though I die I'll go through with it and do just as you say.”

In spite of Master Yang's turn in office with the business it involved, he had abundant leisure and many days free. He would then pay visits to friends or have a time of amusement in some summer pavilion or go for jaunts on his donkey to see the willows in bloom. On a certain day his friend Thirteen said to him: “There is a quiet spot in the hills to the south of the city where the view is unsurpassed; let's go there, brother, you and I, to satisfy our longings for the beautiful.”

Master Yang replied: “Happy thought! That's just what I should like to do.”

Then they made ready refreshments, dispensed with their servants as far as possible, and went three or four miles into the hills where the green grass clothed the mountain sides and the forest trees bent over the rippling water. The lovely views of hill and valley calmed all thoughts of the dusty world.

Master Yang and Thirteen sat on the bank of the stream and sang songs together, for the time was the opening days of summer. Flowers were all about them in abundance, adding to each other's beauty. Suddenly a bud came floating down the stream. The master saw it and repeated the lines:

"Spring is dear, fairy buds upon the water

   Now appear,

Saying 'Garden of the fairies, here!'”

“This river comes from Cha-gak Peak,” remarked Thirteen. “I have heard it said that at the time the flowers bloom and when the moon is bright you can hear the music of the fairies among the clouds, but my affinities in the fairy world are all lacking, so that I have never found myself among them. To-day with my honoured brother I would like just once to set foot in the city where they live, see their wing prints, and peep in at the windows on these angel dwellers.”

The young master, being by nature a lover of the wonderful, heard this with delight, saying: “If there are no fairies of course there are none, but if there are, surely they will be here. Let us put our dress in order and go to see if we can find them.”

Just at this moment a servant from Thirteen's home, all wet with perspiration and panting for breath, came to say: “The master's lady has been suddenly taken ill and I have come to call you.”

Then Thirteen reluctantly arose and said: “I wanted so much to go with you into the region of the genii and enjoy ourselves, but my wife is ill, and so my chance for meeting the fairies is ended. It is only another proof of what I said, that I have no affinity with fairies.” He then mounted his donkey and rode hurriedly away.

Master Yang was thus left alone. He was not yet satisfied with what he had seen. He followed up the stream into the enclosing hills. The babbling waters were clear and bright and the green peaks encircled him solemnly about. No dust was there here of the common world. His mind was exalted and refreshed by the majesty of it as he stood alone on the bank of the stream or walked slowly on.

[CUTLINE: The Poem by the Way: Among the Fairies]

Just then there came floating by on the water a leaf of the cinnamon tree with a couplet of verse written on it. He had his serving-boy fish it out and bring it to him, The writing said:

"The fairy's woolly dog barks from amid the clouds,

For he knows that Master Yang is on the way.”

Greatly astonished, he said: “How could there by any possibility be people living on these mountains, and why should any living person ever write such a thing as this?” So he pushed aside the creeping vines and made his impatient way over rocks and stones.

His boy said to him: “The day is late, sir, and the road precipitous. There is no place ahead at which to put up for the night; please let us go back to the city.”

The master, however, paid no attention but pushed on for another ten or eight li, till the rising moon was seen over the sky-line of the eastern hills. By its light he followed his way through the shadows of the trees and crossed the stream. The frightened birds uttered cries of alarm, and monkeys and other eerie night creatures voiced their fears. The stars seemed to rock back and forth over the wavy tips of the tree-tops, and the dewdrops gathered on all the needles of the pine. He realised that deep night had fallen and that no trace of human habitation was anywhere to be seen. Neither was there any place of shelter. He thought that perhaps a Buddhist temple might be nigh at hand or a nunnery, but there was none. Just at the moment of his deepest bewilderment he suddenly saw a maiden of sixteen or so dressed in fairy green, washing something by the side of the stream.

Being alarmed by the stranger she arose quickly and called out: “My lady, the Master is coming.”

Yang hearing this was beside himself with astonishment; He went on a few steps farther but the way seemed blocked before him, till unexpectedly he saw a small pavilion standing directly by the side of the stream, deeply secluded, hidden away in the recesses of the hills—just such a place as fairies were wont to choose to live in.

A lady dressed in red then appeared in the moonlight, standing alone below a peach tree. She bowed gracefully, saying: “Why has the Master been so long in coming?”

So-yoo in fear and wonder looked carefully at her and saw that the lady was dressed in a red outer coat with a jade hairpin through her hair, an ornamented belt about her waist, and a phoenix-tail fan in her hand. She was beautiful seemingly beyond all human realisation. In deepest reverence he made obeisance, saying: “Your humble servant is only a common dweller of the earth, and never before in all his life had a moonlight meeting like this. Why do you say that I have been late in coming?”

The maiden then ascended the steps of the pavilion and invited him to follow. Awe-struck, he obeyed her, and when they had seated themselves, each on a separate mat, she called to her maid, saying: “The Master has come a long way; I am sure he is hungry; bring tea and refreshments.”

The servant withdrew and in a little while brought in a jewelled table, dishes and cups. Into a blue crystal cup she poured the red wine of the fairies, the taste of which was sweet and refreshing, while the aroma from it filled the room. One glass, and he was alive with exhilaration. Said he: “Even though this mountain is isolated it is under heaven. Why is it that my fairy ladyship has left the Lake of Gems and her companions of the crystal city and come down to dwell in such a humble place as this?”

The fairy gave a long sigh of regret, saying: “If I were to tell you of the past only sorrow would result from it. I am one of the waiting maids of the Western Queen Mother [23]

and your lordship is an officer of the Red Palace where God dwells. Once when God had prepared a banquet in honour of the Western Mother, and there were many officers of the genii present, your lordship thoughtlessly singled me out, and tossed me some fruit of the fairies in a playful way. For this you were severely punished and driven through transmigration into this world of woe. I, fortunately, was more lightly dealt with and simply sent into exile, so here I am. Since my lord has found his place among men and has been blinded by the dust of mortality, he has forgotten all about his past existence, but my exile is nearly over and I am to return again to the Lake of Gems. Before going I wanted just once to see you and renew the love of the past, so I asked for an extension of my term, knowing that you would come. I have waited long, however. At last, through much trouble, you have come to me and we can unite again the love that was lost.”

But scarcely had they had a chance to express their love or recall the awakened secrets of the past, when the birds of the mountains began to twitter in the branches of the trees, and the silken blinds to lighten. The fairy said to the Master: “I must not detain you longer. To-day is my appointed time of return to heaven. When the officer of the genii, at the command of God, comes with flags and banners to meet me, if he should find you here we should be accounted guilty. Please make haste and escape. If you are true to your first love we shall have opportunities to meet again.” Then she wrote for him a farewell verse on a piece of silk which ran thus

"Since we have met, all heaven is filled with flowers,

Now that we part, each bud is fallen to earth again.

The joys of spring are but a passing dream,

Wide waters block the way far as infinity.”

When the Master had read this he was overcome with regret at the thought of their parting, so he tore off a piece of his silken sleeve and wrote a verse which ran:

"The winds of heaven blow through the green stone flute,

Wide-winged the white clouds lift and sail away.

Another night shall mark our gladful meeting,

E'en though wild rains should block our destined way.”

The maiden received it, and said: “The moon has set behind the Tree of Gems; hasten away! On all my flight to heaven I shall have this verse by which to see your face.” So she placed it in the folds of her robe and then urgently pressed him: “The time is passing, Master, please make haste.”

The Master raised his hands, said his regretful good-bye and was gone. He had scarcely passed beyond the shadowed circle of the grove when he looked back, but there was only the green of the mountains that seemed piled one upon the other till they touched the white clouds in companies. He realised then that he had had a dream of the Lake of Gems and thus he came back home.

But his mind was all confused and his heart had lost its joy. He sat alone thinking to himself: “Even though the fairy did tell me that the time had come for her return from exile, how could she tell the very moment, or that it was to-day? If I had only waited a little or hidden myself in some secluded corner and seen the fairies and their meeting, I would have come back home in triumph. Why did I make this fatal blunder and come away so quickly?” So he expressed his regrets over and over as he failed to sleep the night through. With these vain thoughts upon him he greeted the dawn, arose, took his servant, and went once more to where he had met the fairy. The plum blossoms seemed to mock him and the passing stream to babble in confusion. Nothing greeted him but an empty pavilion. All the fragrance of the place had vanished. The Master leaned over the deserted railing, looked up in sadness, and sighed as he gazed at the grey clouds, saying: “Fairy maiden, you have ridden away on yonder cloud and are in audience before Heaven's high King. Now, however, that the very shadow of the fairy has vanished what's the use of sighing?”

So he came down from the pavilion. Standing by the peach tree where first he met her he said to himself: “These flowers will know my depths of sorrow.”

When the evening shadows began to lengthen he returned home.

Some days later Thirteen came to Master Yang and said “The other day on account of my wife's illness we failed in our outing together. My regret over that disappointment is still with me, and now though the plums and the peaches are past and the long stretch of the willows is in bloom, let us take half a day away, you and I, to see the butterflies dance and hear the orioles sing.”

Master Yang answered: “The green sward with the willows is prettier even than the flowers.”

So the two went together outside the gates of the city across the wide plain to the green wood. They sat upon the grass and made counting points of flowers to reckon up the drinks they had taken. Just above them was an old grave on an elevated ridge. Artemisia weeds grew over it, the fresh sod had fallen away, and there were bunches of spear grass and other green tufts mixed together, while a few weakly-looking flowers strove for life.

Master Yang, awakened from the dejection caused by the wine he had drunk, pointed to the grave, saying: “The good and the good-for-nothing, the honourable and the mean, in a hundred years will all have turned to heaped up mounds of clay. This was the regret of Prince Maing-sang long, long ago. Shall we not drink and be merry while we may?”

Thirteen replied: “Brother, you evidently don't know whose grave this is. This is the grave of Chang-yo, who died unmarried. Her beauty was the praise and admiration of all the world in which she lived, and so she was called Chang Yo-wha, the Beautiful Flower. She died at the age of about twenty and was buried here. Later generations took pity on her and planted these willows to comfort her sorrowful soul and to mark the place. Supposing we, too, pour out a glass by way of oblation to her lovely spirit?”

The young Master, being by nature kind-hearted, readily said in reply: “Good brother, your words are most becoming.” So they went together to the front of the grave and there poured out the glass of wine. Each likewise wrote a verse to comfort her in her loneliness.

The Master's words ran thus:

"The beauty of your form o'erturned the State,

Your radiant soul has mounted high to Heaven;

The forest birds have learned the music of your way,

The flowers have donned the silken robes you wore.

Upon your grave the green of springtime rests,

The smoke hangs o'er the long deserted height,

The old songs from the streams that bore you hence,

When shall we hear them sung?”

The scholar Thirteen's words ran thus:

"I ask where was the beautiful land,

And of whose house were you the joy,

Now all is waste and desolate,

With death and silence everywhere.

The grass takes on the tints of spring,

The fragrance of the past rests with the flowers,

We call the sweet soul but she does not come,