Strange Tales from Liaozhai--Volume 4

by Pu Songling

  As he was passing through Zhongzhou, he fought with a Shaolin disciple who was humiliated by his failure to defeat the man from Shanxi, so the disciple angrily told his master about it. They decided to set up a banquet and invite the Shanxi man, for then they’d be able to gang up on him.

  After he arrived, they first served an infusion of tea and fruit. There were some walnuts that were still in their shells, but they proved too hard to crack and eat. The Shanxi man placed them near the edge of the table, then extending his fingers over the nuts, he struck them with his hands, splitting all of them.

  This so astonished everyone in the temple that they treated him with great courtesy and backed away from him.

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  Zhongzhou: Located in modern Henan province.

  302. The Statesman Who Served Three Emperors

  There was a certain grand secretary who’d been a Ming administrator. He’d surrendered to the roving rebels, which earned him a reproachful attitude from public opinion. When he grew old, he retired from official life to return to his home village, where he enjoyed the completion of a hall that he’d had built, and once it was finished, several people came to visit and stayed there overnight.

  At daybreak, they saw a plaque on the hall that read, “The Statesman Who Served Three Emperors.” Beside it was a couplet reading “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, / Filial, fraternal, loyal, trustworthy, courteous, righteous, and honest.”

  They had no idea when it had been hung up there. It was strange, and they didn’t understand what it meant. Someone conjectured, “The first line hides ‘a missing eight,’ and the second hides ‘no disgrace.’”

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  Grand secretary: A position of great power, assisting the emperor with paperwork and tutoring the heir apparent, assigned to a specific hall in the imperial palace (Hucker 466-7).

  Ming administrator: That is, an administrator during the Ming dynasty (1368-1644).

  ‘Missing eight’ . . . ‘no disgrace’: The interpreter of this punning put-down construes the first line to be wang ba, “missing an eight,” which sounds like wangba, or “tortoise” (an all-purpose insulting epithet); the second line’s list of positive qualities, proposes the interpreter, is missing wu chi, “no disgrace,” which also sounds like wuchi, “shameless.”

  Military Commissioner Hong was traveling south, returning from battle in triumph. When he arrived at Jinling, he held a memorial ceremony for the officers and men who had died in action. An old parasite came to see him, and after the old fellow had finished kowtowing, he wanted to present Hong with a piece of writing. Hong, who had long before grown tired of literary matters, refused to accept it, on the excuse that he was dim-sighted.

  The man insisted, “Then I’ll just trouble you to sit and listen to me, allowing me to read this out.”

  Accordingly, he reached into his sleeve, took out the scroll, and in full voice began reading it aloud, revealing that it was an imperial proclamation, written by the Ming Emperor Xizong, memorializing Hong’s dedicated willingness to die for his sovereign.

  When he finished reading, the man broke into loud sobbing and walked away.

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  Military Commissioner Hong: Hong Chengchou (1593-1665) defected to the Manchu cause near the end of the Ming dynasty and helped to institute the Qing version of Ming bureaucratic structures (see Zhu 2:1045-6n4).

  Jinling: Modern Nanjing, in Jiangsu province.

  Old parasite: Drawing on the traditional terms menxiake (a parasitic guest) and shike (a person who sponges off an aristocrat).

  Emperor Xizong: Ruler from 1620-1627, during an early phase in Hong’s career. As in the previous example, Pu portrays Hong here as a betrayer who served the Ming dynasty before defecting to the Manchus.

  303. The Healing Art

  There was a poor man from Yi named Zhang. While traveling, he met a Daoist, a skilled physiognomist, who looked at Zhang and said, “You should train in some craft that’ll make you rich.”

  “Then what should I study?” asked Zhang.

  The Daoist gave it some thought, and replied, “You could be a doctor.”

  “I only know how to read the simplest words,” said Zhang, “so alas, what could I possibly learn?”

  The Daoist laughed and exclaimed, “That’s beside the point! What famous doctor has to read a bunch of words? Just get on with it.”

  Returning home poor and unemployed, Zhang turned to gathering ingredients for folk medicine, then took them to the market district, where he found a spot to set up a little vender’s stall, and displayed a case divided into sections like the cells of a hive to hold the medicine, bartering his folk remedies for grain, which people thought not at all unusual.

  There was a prefectural chief in Qingzhou who fell ill with a severe cough, so official solicitations were issued, calling for doctors to come, and since Yi was rather secluded in the mountains, there were few doctors working there; the district magistrate feared the consequences if they couldn’t find anyone to treat the chief, so he sent a lower-ranking official to see who might be recommended. As a result, Zhang was nominated. The magistrate ordered him to answer the summons immediately.

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  Yi: The city of Linyi in modern Shandong province.

  Qingzhou: In modern Shandong’s Yidu county.

  Zhang had developed a cough and congestion, and couldn’t even cure himself, so he was really scared when he heard the magistrate’s order, and firmly declined. The magistrate, who wouldn’t hear of this, sent servants to deliver Zhang to the prefectural chief. Their route took them deep into the mountains, and as Zhang became thirsty, he started coughing with increasing frequency.

  When they entered a village, he asked for some water, but the price of the mountain water there was like that of fine liquor, and it was of such a quality that it was in demand everywhere, so there wasn’t any to give him. Zhang saw a woman rinsing some edible wild herbs, and the liquid dripping off the herbs into a vessel was as viscous as saliva.

  Zhang was unbearably parched, so he asked her if he might have the rinse water to drink. Instantly, his thirst was relieved, and his coughing also stopped suddenly. To himself, he thought: This might make a very effective prescription.

  When they arrived in Qingzhou, the whole town was filled with doctors who’d already prescribed their cures, but the prefectural chief still hadn’t recovered at all from his illness. Zhang entered and sought a private audience with the chief, then made a point of taking out his medicine so everyone could see it, showing it all around; they dispatched people to go gather all the requisite herbs, then Zhang explained how to collect the rinsings from the herbs, and had this administered to the prefectural chief. With just one dose, his condition was already improved.

  Very pleased, the chief rewarded Zhang quite generously, including a banner inscribed with golden letters. Henceforward, Zhang’s reputation was widely circulated, and it was often like a bustling marketplace at his gate, yet he made his prescriptions smoothly, and without exception they were all effective.

  There happened to be a person who was ill with a fever, so when Zhang was told what the problem was, he provided a prescription for it. But because he was drunk at the time, he made a mistake in the prescription he gave to treat the fever. When he sobered up and realized what he’d done, he didn’t dare tell anyone.

  Three days later, a grand celebration was held at his gate to express gratitude, and when he asked about it, he was told that the fever patient began vomiting copiously, but then recovered after that purging. There were many cases of similar success.

  Zhang consequently became wealthy even though he never held public office, and his reputation continued to grow and grow, with his treatment fees increasing correspondingly, to the point that unless a carriage was sent to pick him up, he wouldn’t agree to go visit a patient.

  In Yidu, there was an ol
d man named Han who was a renowned doctor. Even when he wasn’t yet a notable person, he sold his medicinal remedies everywhere. One day at dusk he found he didn’t have a place to lodge overnight, so he stayed with a family whose son had a fever and was on the brink of death, and they begged the doctor to do something to cure him.

  Han thought that it was improper for him not to do something to cure the son before leaving, but he was in a quandary about what medicine would be effective. Back and forth the illness went, and as Han rubbed his hand over his own skin, he found the sweat on it forming a kind of muddy substance, that could be rolled between the fingers like a pellet.

  Suddenly he thought that this might be just the thing for a placebo, since it wouldn’t be harmful and endanger the boy. He planned that after administering it, the boy wouldn’t yet be recovered, but he’d be relaxed enough by then to sleep and eat his fill. Then Han might take his leave safely.

  At midnight, Han’s host began pounding on the door of his guest’s room, in a great agitation. Fearing that the son was dead, and afraid of being disgraced, Han jumped up in fright, climbed over the man’s wall, and fled in haste. The father chased him for several li, until Han had nowhere else to run, and finally stopped. Then he learned that the son had sweated out the last of the disease, and hence had recovered.

  The man drew Han back home with him, where he entertained him with a grandly abundant banquet; and before he departed, he was given generous presents.

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  Li: A distance equal to 1/3 mile.

  304. The Louse Stocks Up

  There was a certain villager who happened to be sitting under a tree when he picked up a louse, wrapped it up in a small piece of paper, then stuffed it into a hole in the tree and left.

  Two or three years later, he was passing by there again and suddenly remembered the louse, so he looked in the hole, and the paper containing the louse was still there. He opened out the paper and examined it, discovering the louse had shrunken as small as a grain of wheat.

  The villager placed it in his palm, and instantly his palm felt strangely itchy, while the louse’s stomach appeared to be filling gradually. The villager put the louse down and went home.

  The itchy place enlarged to the size of a fruit pit, swelling painfully for several days, and then he died.

  305. Dreaming of Wolves

  An old man named Bai lived in Zhili. His eldest son, Jia, had begun a career as an official in the southern regions of the country, and for two years there had been no news concerning him. Coincidentally, a distant relative named Ding decided to pay him a visit, and the old man welcomed him.

  Ding often worked as a wuchang. While they were chatting, old Bai asked him about matters in the underworld, and Ding described what seemed like imaginary experiences there; the old man put no credence in his words, simply smirking slightly at him.

  A few days later, Bai was lying down, when he saw Ding appear and invite the old man to come with him. He followed Ding until they approached a wall in front of some towers. Some moments passed, and Ding pointed to the gate, remarking, “This is your nephew’s home.”

  At the time, the son of Bai’s elder sister was a magistrate in Shanxi, so the old man, surprised, asked, “How can this be his home?”

  “If you won’t take my word for it,” Ding replied, “go inside, and then you’ll find out.”

  Old Bai entered the gate and consequently spotted his nephew, dressed in his embroidered official’s robes, sitting at the head of a hall, with many ranks of men around him, bearing halberds and banners, so no one could get through to him.

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  Zhili: Located in modern Hebei province.

  Wuchang: A Chinese grim reaper, who collects the ghosts of the dead and conducts them to the underworld.

  Ding pulled the old man back outside and told him, “Your son’s government office isn’t far from here—would you like to see it?” Bai said he would.

  Instantly, they arrived at a mansion, where Ding said, “Go on in.” Bai peered inside the gate, where he saw a wolf blocking the way, and was terribly frightened, so he didn’t dare go any closer. “Just go on in,” Ding said again.

  When he entered the gate, Bai saw that at the front and the back of the hall, sitting and lying down, there were wolves everywhere. Then he spotted a stack of human bones, piled up like a hill on the building’s steps, and became even more scared. Ding subsequently guided the old man past them.

  Bai’s son, Jia, came out to greet them, and was elated to see his father with Ding. Soon they sat down, and Jia called for them to be served with an array of meats and vegetables. Suddenly a giant wolf entered, carrying a dead man in its mouth. Old Bai was trembling as he cautiously stood up and asked, “What’s it doing with that?”

  “It’s just taking it to the kitchen, to be prepared,” Jia explained. The old man urged him to stop it. He felt his heart racing with apprehension and took his leave, wanting to get out of there, but the pack of wolves blocked his way.

  Faced with this dilemma, old Bai had no idea what to do, when suddenly he saw all the wolves confusedly howl in fear, some fleeing under beds, and others hiding beneath tables. It startled him, since he didn’t understand why they were doing it.

  Presently, two armored warriors with angry eyes rushed in and took out black ropes, with which they tied up Bai Jia. Jia flung himself to the ground and changed into a tiger, the gnashing of its teeth echoing in the surrounding mountain peaks. One of the warriors drew his sharpened sword, wanting to cut off Jia’s head.

  The other warrior exclaimed, “Not now, not now—this business has to wait until the fourth lunar month next year, so it’d be best for the time being just to knock its teeth out.” Then he took out an enormous hammer and smashed the tiger’s fangs, so the shattered bits fell out all over the ground. The tiger roared ferociously, the sound shaking the mountains like they were under attack.

  Old Bai was so terrified that he suddenly woke up, realizing that he’d been dreaming. He felt strange about it, so he sent someone to invite Ding to visit, but Ding declined, saying he couldn’t come just then.

  The elder Bai kept thinking about his dream, and decided to send his second son to pay Jia a visit, taking with him a letter of dire warning from Bai. After arriving, the son saw his elder brother’s front teeth were missing; shocked, he asked about it, and Jia explained that he’d fallen off his horse while drunk and broken them out. The younger brother asked him when the accident had taken place, and it turned out to be precisely on the day when his father had experienced his dream. The second son felt even more startled.

  He then took out the letter from their father. As Jia read it, he turned pale, and after a time, remarked, “This daydream just happened to coincide with what happened, so it’s not really all that strange.” At that time, he was bribing an official who accordingly gave him a preferential recommendation, which is why he didn’t take his father’s weird dream seriously.

  In the few days that the younger brother was staying with Jia, he witnessed corrupt figures of all sorts filling the halls, accepting his brother’s bribes and illicit lobbying ceaselessly throughout the night, causing his tears began to fall as he warned him to stop. “Brother, you live your days in a thatched cottage,” replied Jia, “and hence you have no idea about the secrets to success in becoming an official. Demotion and promotion depend upon connections, on your superiors, not on the common people. If your superiors are happy with you, you’re a good official; if you love the common people, how can you make your superiors happy?”

  The younger brother realized it would do no good to advise him to stop, so he returned home and told their father. Old Bai wept piteously upon hearing about it. There was nothing he could do except to donate his home for the benefit of the poor, and to supplicate the gods daily, praying that his wayward son’s actions wouldn’t burden his wife and children.

  The following year, the announcement cam
e that Jia had been recommended for an official’s position, and people came to his father’s home to congratulate him; old Bai merely sighed, took to his bed as though he was ill, and wouldn’t come out. Soon afterwards, he heard that while on the way home, his son had been set upon by bandits, so that both master and servants were killed.

  The old man then got up and told someone, “The spirits were angry, and hence they’ve taken his life, but since they’ve also preserved my family, I can’t say they were ungenerous to me.” Then he burned some incense to express his gratitude.

  To try to console him, everyone told Bai that maybe it was just a false rumor, yet the old man firmly believed it without a doubt, and that very day started construction of a tomb. But in fact, Jia wasn’t dead.

  Previously, in April, Bai Jia had resigned his position and was just leaving the area when he encountered the bandits, thus he poured out all his possessions, offering them to the thieves. They all cried, “We’ve been waiting for you to arrive, so we could express the anger of the people over the wrongs you’ve done—no one wants this stuff!” Then they proceeded to chop off his head.

  Next they asked Jia’s servants, “There’s a man named Si Dacheng among you, so which one of you is he?” Si had been Jia’s trusted subordinate, and had helped Jia perpetuate his tyrannical abuse of the people. The servants all pointed out Si. Then the bandits killed him, too.

  They also found four other corrupt individuals with whom Jia had collected huge sums, and whom he’d been on the verge of introducing into the capital. Once the bandits finished killing them, and searching through Jia’s things, they divided his money into bags, then grabbed their horses and rode away.

  Jia’s spirit hid along the side the road, and when a district magistrate passing by saw the corpse, he asked, “Who’s that man who’s been killed there?”

  “That’s Bai, the county magistrate,” the spirit replied testily.

  The district magistrate remarked, “Then this is old Bai’s son, and it isn’t right that the old man should see this savage spectacle, so we should put his head back on.”