“The frogs’ legs and bean-sprouts were remarkable enough in themselves,” she said, “but the sauce which was served with them, seemingly containing ginger and honey, made one forget the frogs in the excitement of the ginger, made one disregard the bean-sprouts in the surprise of the honey.”
Yet, when the soup was served in the Great Hall, she did not leave any at the bottom of her bowl.
Clear Rain said to the groom: “I think she wants to ride. You would be wise to put a saddle on the horse.”
The groom replied: “I will do so. You will want a horse as well? It is fortunate that in the neighbourhood of Chang-an we are famous throughout the Eight Directions for the breeding of horses; otherwise the officers who came from the Capital to requisition mounts would not have left us these two.” He busied himself with a girth.
Clear Rain had always wanted to ride a horse. She remembered that the Lady Kuo Kuo, the sister of the Lady Yang, had been famous for her horsemanship, and that it was owing to this skill that she and the wife of her unfortunate brother, Yang Kuo, had been killed by the soldiers at another place. But, despite this unhappy idea, she still wanted to ride, and the others, coming out of the Great Hall, were astonished to see the two girls riding out through the side doors, Winter Cherry leading and Clear Rain clinging to her own saddle-bow with mock desperation.
“If only I could grip the beast properly with my knees!” she cried as she went by.
Honeysuckle forbore to make a suitable reply, and they all watched the two move slowly up the slope away from them.
Clear Rain did not speak as they rode, for she was fully occupied. She had never dreamed that a seat could be so precarious that it demanded all her attention, and began to feel admiration for those horsemen whom one saw daily in Chang-an reining in their steeds to a pivoting stand or moving with them as if man and horse were part of the same animal.
Winter Cherry led on, walking her horse gently up the slope. Near the top, she reined in. Clear Rain came up beside her.
“It was here,” Winter Cherry said. Then she shook the reins and moved off back to the farm.
Later, rubbing herself carefully, Clear Rain told Honeysuckle what Winter Cherry had said.
Honeysuckle replied: “She is remembering. What she needs now to cure her is the presence of that boy Ah Lai, who is now far away on the Emperor’s business. And how did you like riding? As you went by on your way out I nearly called after you to keep your knees together.”
“But on a horse one cannot keep the knees together, whichever way one sits,” Clear Rain replied.
Honeysuckle answered: “I know. But I thought possibly our hosts might misunderstand me, and I did not want that. Here—let me rub some oil in. Then I must go and discuss poetry with the old man. All men are really the same, I have found out, for they all have something to show you, something to discuss with you, and something to ask your advice about. With the old man, it is poetry.”
“A finger’s breadth more towards the middle,” Clear Rain answered.
Old Father Peng wrote with fine calligraphy: