Chapter 100: Fire Trees and Silver Flowers

The Boudoir Schoolroom, also called "Chunxiang Disrupts the Lesson," tells the story of the maidservant Chunxiang playing tricks on an old pedantic tutor in the classroom.

"Wandering in the Garden" and "The Interrupted Dream" are the most gorgeous and joyful scenes in The Peony Pavilion, yet they too are seeded with signs of decay.

From the stage came the singing.

"So the garden is a riot of purple and crimson, all given over to broken wells and crumbling walls."

"Morning flight, evening roll, cloud-girt emerald pavilions; threads of rain, wisps of wind, painted boats on misty waves—how the screen-shielded lady scorns this radiant time!"

In the dream, before the peony railing, Du Liniang and Liu Mengmei consummate their union of cloud and rain.

At the peak of bliss, a mother's call from offstage shatters the beautiful dream.

"Child, child, how is it you are dozing here?"

The mood turns sharply; the illusion breaks, and all dissolves.

Lin Jiren broke into a cold sweat for no reason at all.

He looked left and right, and not seeing his eldest son, hastily asked those around him: "Where is the young master?"

A servant replied: "The young master left the table."

"Find him!" Lin Jiren felt a heaviness in his chest and a vague foreboding; he snapped at the servant in a low voice.

At that moment, his eldest son's voice came from beside him. "Father is looking for me?"

Lin Jiren turned and saw his eldest son standing in attendance at his side.

Lin Jiren looked him over and said: "Where did you go?"

"Your son stepped out to change clothes."

"Changing clothes" was the polite way of saying relieving oneself; Lin Jiren did not press further and gestured for his son to sit.

By the light of the stage lanterns, Lin Jiren saw a string of fine sweat beads on his eldest son's forehead.

It was already deep autumn—would changing clothes work up that much sweat?

With guests nearby, Lin Jiren could only suppress his doubts.

After the three scenes were sung, it was time for the evening banquet.

The evening banquet was laid out as a simple scattered feast—no great fish or meat, but clean and elegant.

The banquet ended at the hour of xu, and the guests departed one after another while servants handed out return gifts.

Lin Jiren and his son went to the main gate to see the guests off, setting off firecrackers as well—two strings of eighteen-hundred-crack "Carpet of Red" blazing together outside the Lin estate, like a blaze of fire trees and silver flowers, its sound carrying ten li.

At the beginning of the xu hour, the Lin estate guards changed shifts, leaving the rear wall temporarily unguarded.

Lin Qian, who had long been lying in ambush outside the Lin estate's water gate, gave a low command: "Go!"

With that, Lin Qian led more than ten men toward the water gate.

At this moment, the watchman in the watchtower was turning his head toward the firecrackers at the front gate.

The crewmen laid a huge wooden plank across the water channel, then took out black cotton cloth prepared long in advance, soaked it in water, and layered it over the plank to form a sealed tent.

This sequence of moves the crew had practiced no fewer than a hundred times; now their motions flowed like water, and in but a moment the water gate was shrouded within.

Lin Qian and Bailangzai stepped onto the plank and approached the water gate.

The water gate stood about three-quarters the height of a man, three chi wide, built in a round arch shape; within the gate, more than ten iron bars as thick as a finger were arranged crosswise to form an iron grille.

Bailangzai took custom-made ceramic pieces from his saddlebag and fitted them together in pairs, mounting them on the grille.

The upper and lower holes of the ceramics allowed the iron bars to pass through, and the clasps between the two pieces joined them together, fixing them to the bars.

The cylindrical ceramics were arranged in a ring around the arch; Lin Qian carefully adjusted the orientation of each, turning the side holes to face himself.

Then Lin Qian took the thermite gourd from his waist, inserted the custom crooked-spout funnel into the side hole, and poured the thermite in.

When one gourd was emptied, Lin Qian took down another from his waist and continued pouring until each ceramic was half filled.

Throughout, the other crewmen kept watch on the movements along the courtyard wall.

Fortunately, the firecrackers at the front gate were extremely loud, covering the sounds of their movements and firmly drawing the watchmen's gaze.

To flaunt their wealth, the Lin estate had stockpiled a great many firecrackers; before the eighteen-hundred-crack "Carpet of Red" had fully burned out, two more strings were lit and hung up.

There were also sky rockets bursting in the heavens from time to time, dazzling and bewitching the eye.

Lin Qian's original plan had been to strike on a rainy night, using the sound of the downpour to cover their movements; he had not expected to coincide with the Lin estate's birthday celebration, so he adjusted the plan on the spot.

In the kennel at the rear courtyard, the dogs seemed to sense something and began to bark.

A crewman fetched meat buns and tossed them over the wall toward the kennel; after about a dozen buns, the barking gradually subsided.

Before the water gate, Lin Qian's hands were steady as he finished loading the thermite, then took an even smaller gourd from his waist.

Inside was black powder—the ignition charge for the thermite reaction.

The handling of the ignition charge was extremely delicate: too little and it would not ignite; too much and the black powder would explode instantly, blowing the ceramic jars apart.

Even though Lin Qian had experimented dozens of times and determined the optimal ratio, he could not help feeling tense inside now.

In the night sky, a huge sky rocket burst with a bang, trailing a dazzling tail of light; for a moment, meteors seemed to rain across the heavens.

After that instant of extreme brilliance, the sky returned to silence.

Outside the estate gate, the firecrackers had stopped.

The guards coming on shift reluctantly snapped back to attention and walked toward the courtyard wall.

"Helmsman."

A crewman reminded him in a low voice.

Lin Qian did not react, his hands continuing to load the charge without pause.

"Helmsman, we should go." The crewman urged anxiously.

Lin Qian did not answer; by now the powder was fully loaded, and he drew fuse cord from his bosom, inserting each piece into the holes on the sides of the ceramic jars.

Bailangzai beside him took out thin cord and bound the fuse-fitted jars tightly.

"Crack, crack, crack..."

At this moment, another burst of firecracker noise came from the main gate—the two strings of firecrackers from before must have burned out, and new ones had just been lit.

The guards looked toward the main gate with interest. Though they couldn't see the scene of red scraps flying everywhere, they could still make out the flashing glints from afar.

Finally, the last fuse was inserted. Lin Qian wiped the sweat from his forehead and reached out a hand to Bailangzai.

The two were already perfectly in sync. Bailangzai knew Lin Qian wanted the slow match, but he didn't hand it over—he said in a low voice, "Let me."

Lin Qian glanced at him. Bailangzai's expression was resolute, and the slow match bound to his right hand glowed a dull red.

"This is dangerous. Let me do it." Bailangzai said again.

Lin Qian nodded. "Fine. You know what to do?"

Bailangzai nodded slowly. During the days at Huangyan, Lin Qian had tested the fire resistance of the clay jar several times, and Bailangzai had watched each time—he already understood how the jar worked.

Lin Qian said no more. He stepped off the wooden plank and retreated to a dark spot at the side.

Bailangzai blew on the slow match a few times, and it grew ever brighter red.

Bailangzai brought the slow match to each fuse in turn.

The hiss of the fuses was drowned out by the firecrackers.

After lighting all the fuses, Bailangzai immediately moved the plank from under his feet, withdrew from the tent, and lowered the black cloth covering the tent's opening.

The moment he came out, a blazing white flame burst from the side opening of the clay jar, shooting straight out like a spray gun, accompanied by a series of crackling sounds.

The water-soaked black cloth muffled most of the sound and light, but some still leaked out.

Fortunately, the firecrackers at the main gate crackled on without pause, the air was already thick with smoke, and the noise was covered by the firecrackers as well.

Lin Qian lay prone on the ground, unconsciously clenching a fistful of mud in his palm.

The most dangerous part of this plan was the clay jar cracking from the heat. Though several experiments had been done before the operation to ensure the jar's strength, it was still a worry.

Beside him lay five or six bamboo ladders—if the thermite agent failed, they would force their way over the wall.

Of course, forcing the wall would surely alert the guards in the watchtowers on both sides. Lin Qian's men had drilled many times—even in a frontal assault, he had confidence they could take the Lin estate.

A moment later, through the soaked black cotton cloth, the white light inside the tent could be seen dimming, and an orange-red flame emerged from the jar's mouth—a sign that the black powder had burned out and the red lead had begun its reduction reaction.

The beauty of this method showed itself at this moment: the reduction reaction of red lead made almost no sound, and the carbon monoxide it produced was colorless and odorless—not easily detected.

The wind was light tonight. The guards on the back wall, once fumigated by the carbon monoxide, would at the very least grow dizzy, if not collapse on the spot—and certainly wouldn't notice anything amiss.

Time crawled by, second by second.

A few minutes later, the orange-red flame weakened again, and the tongue of fire at the side opening shrank back in.

After another moment, the flame had gone completely dark.

(End of chapter)

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