Chia Cheng signified his obedience, and rising and walking up to the front of the screen, he noticed the first riddle, which was one composed by the Imperial consort Yüan, in this strain:
The pluck of devils to repress in influence it abounds,
Like bound silk is its frame, and like thunder its breath resounds.
But one report rattles, and men are lo! in fear and dread;
Transformed to ashes 'tis what time to see you turn the head.
"Is this a cracker?" Chia Cheng inquired.
"It is," Pao-yü assented.
Chia Cheng then went on to peruse that of Ying-Ch'un's, which referred to an article of use:
Exhaustless is the principle of heavenly calculations and of human
skill;
Skill may exist, but without proper practice the result to find hard
yet
will be!
Whence cometh all this mixed confusion on a day so still?
Simply it is because the figures Yin and Yang do not agree.
"It's an abacus," Chia Cheng observed.
"Quite so!" replied Ying Ch'un smiling; after which they also conned the one below, by T'an-ch'un, which ran thus and had something to do with an object:
This is the time when 'neath the stairs the pages their heads raise!
The term of "pure brightness" is the meetest time this thing to make!
The vagrant silk it snaps, and slack, without tension it strays!
The East wind don't begrudge because its farewell it did take!
"It would seem," Chia Cheng suggested, "as if that must be a kite!"