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men.”
    Ignoring her grandmother, Daiyu says, “I like Li Qingzhao’s song lyrics. I used to like Li Shangyin when I was younger, but now I find him rather vulgar—”
    “Li Shangyin?” Baoyu interrupts her. “But most people consider his poems very difficult. They’re filled with references to lots of obscure ancient texts. Are you sure you understand them?”
    “What do you know about ancient texts, Baoyu?” Jia Zheng interrupts dryly.
    “I read what interests me,” Baoyu replies. Now it was time for his cheeks to redden.
    “Let’s see how far that gets you on the Civil Service Exams.” Uncle Zheng sets down his cup of tea. “I was under the impression that before I left we agreed you wouldn’t miss any school while I was gone. Yet I find you quite at your leisure.”
    “I said he could stay home to meet his cousin,” Granny Jia puts in. “Besides, he wasn’t feeling well these last few days.”
    “Well, Baoyu, are you fully recovered now?” Uncle Zheng’s tone is sardonic. “Would it be reasonable to expect you to go back to school tomorrow?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And if I speak to the schoolmaster in a few months and find that you haven’t made any progress, I’ll beat you. Actually, I feel I owe him an apology for sending him such a hopeless case.”
    “How can you talk like that?” Lady Jia says. “Baoyu is exceptionally talented.”
    “Is he? I have yet to see evidence of any extraordinary talents, except for laziness and obstinacy.”
    “I don’t understand you, Zheng,” Lady Jia says. “So eager to put down your own son. It’s almost as if you were jealous.”
    “Jealous! What could I possibly be jealous of?” Uncle Zheng’s incredulity strikes Daiyu’s ears as overdone. She remembers her mother’s words: Uncle Zheng had been jealous of her as well.
    “I’m sure I don’t know, but I seem to recall the schoolmaster beating you for not learning your lessons when you were Baoyu’s age.”
    Her uncle’s face flushes with anger.
    Once again, Xifeng is swift to intervene. “Surely our cousin is tired after her long journey.” She pats Daiyu’s hand fondly. “Why don’t I take her to wash up so we can all have dinner?”

    The dinner is as extravagant as Daiyu could have imagined. A procession of maids brings an endless supply of dishes, while others stand at attention holding fly whisks and napkins. Often she cannot tell what she is eating. Even ordinary ingredients are prepared in elaborate, unfamiliar ways, like the eggplant, which seems to have been cut into thread-fine strips, before being fried and smothered in a sauce with minced chicken. She is unused to such rich food, and would have liked to fill up on rice, but even the rice is of an exotic sort, lacking the comforting blandness she craves, the grains such a dark purple that they are almost black. She tastes and nibbles, hoping no one will notice how little she eats.
    Two new young men are present at dinner. The older one introduces himself as her Cousin Lian before taking his seat. He is good-looking, somewhat more thickset than Baoyu, and carries himself with an easygoing air. The other one, a skinny boy about her own age, sidles in as if hehalf expects to be thrown out. He does not say a word but stares fixedly at her from his seat on the other side of the long table. She hears the others call him “Huan.” She herself is seated between Tanchun and Xichun, across from Baoyu and Baochai. Uncle Zheng and Lady Jia sit at the head of the table.
    Uncle Zheng is telling his mother about the flooding on the Jia estates he had visited during his trip south. “The damage was worse than I expected. They say the water reached all the way to Hankou.”
    He proceeds to describe the necessary repairs, but Lady Jia hardly looks up from her dinner. Daiyu is surprised by the greedy way she attacks a drumstick of roast duck.
    Xifeng, as the xifu , or daughter-in-law, does not eat with the others, supervising the serving of