The CyberSybils Unroll Scroll One ~ P'an Chin Lien ~ Lady P'an

P'AN CHIN-LIEN

Her descent could be traced back to Lady P'an, once-favoured concubine of the Emperor Ch'eng Ti of Han. She had learned a cruel lesson, however, when reading that courtesan's poetry, for after the unfortunate one's dismissal, the pining for her lover was expressed in verses imitated for centuries to come:

I am no longer able to loosen my hair,
And I feed on my own flesh in secret.
Do you wish to measure my pining for you?
Then look at my belt, how slack it hangs.

The new P'an, the namesake, burned with resentment at those lines written by the oft' times exalted ancestor. How might one so mighty have been brought so low, how might her own blood have admitted such a weakness, she wondered? Having been instructed, herself, in the art of serving an Emperor, she had shocked the other ladies of the Palace and had adopted the Manchu custom of refusing to allow her beautiful feet to be bound. She might walk in high theater-boots, raised up and under the heel, very hollow at the front, for the added height was becoming, but never would a man sigh over P'an's shoes and declare their contents to be lotus blossoms.

Besides harbouring an unspoken hatred of her predecessor's shame, P'an also was determined that never would such a cruel fate befall her house again. She sought out the wiser, senior concubines, some of whom had outlived their masters, and from them learned the older ways, the true rites of worship, that hidden knowledge revealed to those women who quietly, but surely, rebelled within the palace's guarded walls.

P'an gave the sagest of her guides the name Chia-mu, or adopted mother. Chia-mu taught P'an many forbidden things - how to paint a lovely face whiter than the crane's tail and lips pinker than the cherry blossom, accentuated by blackened eyebrows and green or blue powder at the temples. She aided her jumior in the choice of dagger-like nailcovers, coloured the brightest vermillion. And the robes they selected together, the han-choul, the haol and the ma- coul were various handworked colours but all fashioned from the finest touan-tse, the strongest satin to be found in the world.

More beloved than all these gifts, however, was the present Chia-mu made to P'an when the elderly lady reached her one-hundredth year. "Come here," she ordered the younger woman for the first time during their association, "for I have something important to bequeath. An ancient text, known to no one living but myself, a scroll intended for a Lady as magnificent as yourself."

P'an held the very old parchment and read its title characters aloud. "The Book of the Shên-Lung," she observed, noting to her mentor that the sacred dragon's face contained certain feminine qualities. "Is not the Shên-Lung always the bridegroom and the Phoenix the Bride?" P'an queried.

"Ah, no," smiled Chia-mu, "for woman gives the laws so that man might raise himself up from the ashes. You know this to be true, Lady P'an, do you not?"

"I shall not be called after that disgraceful one," P'an fumed. "Never, Lao- mama, never!"

"Of course I agree," the elder smiled, "and is partly why I gave this Treasure to one worthy the true name of P'an. Read on and see my meaning."

For contained within the Book of the Shên-Lung was a most stupendous tale, the story of P'an's true ancestor, the Goddess P'an Chin-Lien.

And it came to pass that the Emperor was informed of a female Sprite, with a red skirt, dishevelled hair, arms laden with jewels, feet covered with yellow, clawed boots, who, traveling as swift as the wind, was corrupting young men with her whip. The archers of the sovereign attempted to shoot this P'an Chin-Lien through with their arrows but Her flesh became as a Sacred Shrine and she became the Goddess of Domination; She needs no Temple, no image or picture, but in front of the houses of the wise concubines, the courtesans burn incense before the door and their men make prostrations in Her honour.

And as the almond-eyed Lady P'an laughed with pure delight, Chia-mu beamed, "Now you may go to our Emperor who should feel the wrath of your stinging scorn, blessed Daughter."

Soon the rightful lady of legend reigned supreme in the Palace of the Emperor Wu-Te of the Liang Dynasty. And soon, too, all the young men of the court were writing verse similar to the poems of adoration their example penned for his glorious mistress, the incarnation of P'an Chin-Lien:

Who decrees it but Lady P'an,
That my desire must be
To endure humiliation, a life lived at her heel?
My robes smell of lavender and leather,
My hand still holds the written orders that she gives.
Round my waist I wear a double sash:
I dream that it ever-binds me with a cruel heart knot.
Did you not know that men suffer gladly for Love,
As does a precious flower that begs to be picked?