Strange Tales from Liaozhai--Volume 4

by Pu Songling

  In surprise, Song remarked, “Here’s a rare fellow! His knowledge of literature is superlative, so you couldn’t do better than to seek his advice.” Accordingly, he told Wang to go back to their room and pick up the writing that he’d just shown him. On the way, he ran into the Yuhang scholar, who then came back with him.

  Wang called out “teacher” to the monk, to pay his respects to him. The monk thought he was asking for some medicine, and he began questioning him so he could make a diagnosis. Wang earnestly asked him if he would enlighten him about his writing.

  The monk laughed and said, “With whom am I speaking at such cross purposes? I can’t see, so what could I contribute to a literary discussion?” Wang told him he could listen to him read, and then he wouldn’t need to rely on his eyes.

  The monk replied, “Three compositions, more than twenty-thousand words—who can bear to listen for so long! I don’t know if you’re willing to burn them, but I can use my nose then to examine them.” Wang complied with the monk’s proposal. As he set each composition on fire, the monk sniffed and nodded, then declared, “In the first part, you were following the example of the great philosophers, even if that wasn’t clear to you at the time, and your writing is very similar to theirs. I’ll gladly accept your work all the way down into my spleen.”

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  ‘The southerners will no longer appear’: In chapter 90 of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, after Man chieftain Meng Huo has been captured and released by Zhuge Liang seven times, the former rebel declares, “Your Excellency’s divine prestige ensures that the south will not rebel again” (Luo 1081). Song implies that the Yuhang scholar has been similarly “captured and released” multiple times, but shows no gratitude to Song for having “spared” him greater humiliation.

  Wang asked, “Can I succeed in the civil service examination?”

  “You most certainly can,” he replied.

  The Yuhang scholar didn’t believe that the monk could really read essays this way, so he took some of the writings of ancient academics, and burned them to test the monk. Once again the monk sniffed the burning writing, and cried, “Excellent! This writing is extremely impressive to me, quite inimitable, how well you must understand things to manage this!”

  The scholar felt quite astonished, so he began burning some of his own writing.

  “I understand its skill,” the monk continued, “but I can’t quite see what it’s saying as a whole—and why, suddenly, does this other work seem like it’s coming from some other person?”

  The scholar made up an excuse: “A friend was responsible for the previous writing, but this is now my own writing.”

  The monk sniffed its burnt ashes, made several coughing sounds and exclaimed, “Don’t do that again! The two are incompatible and can’t be compared, though I tried hard to separate the reactions of my chest to it from the reactions of my bowels; if you continue to burn that writing, I’ll throw up.” The scholar felt ashamed and withdrew.

  After several days, the list of successful examination candidates was released, and the Yuhang scholar had passed the civil service examination at the provincial level, while Wang had failed the exam. The scholar met up with Wang, then they walked over together to tell the monk.

  Sighing, the monk said, “My eyes may be blind, but not my nose; those officials who judged the examination essays were the ones with blind noses.”

  As soon as the Yuhang scholar showed up, he remarked, “Still blind, eh, and are you also still eating the sugar dumplings? Now that I’ve finished so successfully, what do you think about it?”

  “I’m here to discuss literature,” replied the monk, “not your fate. If you obtained an essay from every local official, and then burned each of them, I’d know immediately which of them taught you.”

  The scholar took Wang with him to look for some sample essays, and they were able to convene eight or nine of the men. “In the event that you’re wrong,” said the scholar, “how shall we punish you?”

  The monk angrily cried, “Cut out my blind eyes and go!” The scholar then set fire to the essays, burning a number of them, while the monk rejected each of them; when he came to the sixth sheet of writing, the monk suddenly turned to the wall and vomited mightily, then farted like thunder. The crowd of men all grinned broadly.

  The monk rubbed his eyes, then turned to the Yuhang scholar and said, “So that’s truly who taught you! I couldn’t tell at first, but then suddenly I could smell it foully stabbing my nose and jabbing at my stomach, till I couldn’t control my innards, and the stinking truth came out both ends!”

  The outraged scholar cried, “You’ll see the truth tomorrow—you’ll be sorry, you’ll be sorry!” Two or three days went by, and the scholar hadn’t come back; when they went to look in his room, they found that he’d already moved out. Then they verified that the scholar had indeed been the pupil of the official whose essay made the monk sick.

  Song reassured Wang, “Ordinarily, as scholars, I consider it inappropriate for us to blame anyone else for our failures, and hence we should be very strict with ourselves: if we don’t blame others, then we make ourselves ever greater, and if we control ourselves, then we improve ourselves even faster. You’re frustrated right now, and there might have been bad luck contributing to that; but if you stay calm and we talk things over, even though it’s disappointing that your writing hasn’t yet reached its peak, we can sharpen your skills henceforth, till the world can’t remain blind to your merits.” Wang respectfully showed his gratitude to Song.

  When Wang heard that the triennial provincial- level imperial civil service examination would be held the following year, he decided not to return home, but to stay and study with Song as his teacher. “The cost of living is very high in the capital,” said Song, “but don’t worry about expenses. Behind this building there’s a pit with gold in it that you can use.” Then he showed Wang the place.

  Wang thanked him, saying, “In the past, Dou Yi and Fan Zhongyan were poor, and yet they were both incorruptibly honest, so how could I dare defile myself by using it when I can still provide for myself?”

  One day, Wang drank some wine and fell asleep, so his servant approached a cook about stealing some of the fortune. Wang suddenly woke up, and heard some sounds coming from behind the building; he crept outside, noticing a pile of gold on the ground. As soon as the other two saw that their scheme had been exposed, they cowered in submission.

  Then as he was scolding them in reproof, he noticed a golden wine vessel on the pile, with characters engraved on it, and as he examined it closely, he discovered that they spelled out his grandfather’s name. Among Wang’s relatives, his grandfather had been an official in the south, but when he entered the capital to take up residence there, he fell violently ill and died, and in the process, his wealth had been lost.

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  Dou Yi and Fan Zhongyan: Dou was a Song dynasty (960-1279) fisherman who became a minister of public works thanks to his upright virtue and generosity (Zhu 3:1105n62). Fan (989-1052) was born poor but achieved a position of authority through his diligent scholarship; he used that position to deliver outspoken critiques of the Prime Minister, and to advocate reforms, until he was driven out of office for his efforts.

  Wang felt jubilant, and with some scales he determined the gold’s weight to be over eight hundred liang. He told Song the next morning, showed him the golden wine vessel, and wanted to divide the gold with him, but Song firmly declined the offer, so Wang gave up the idea.

  Then he took a hundred taels in hopes of giving the money to the blind monk, but the monk had already left. Several months elapsed, while Wang studied diligently, pushing himself harder and harder. As the examination approached, Song told him, “If you don’t succeed in this examination, then that must be your fate!”

  Presently, when Wang took the examination, he was dismissed for violating some of the rules. He didn’t say anything about it; but Song
began weeping loudly, unable to stop himself. Wang tried to console him. Song replied, “I’ve been abandoned by my fate, so my whole life stops right here, and now I’ve worn out a good friend. It’s my destiny! It’s yours, too!”

  “Everyone has their own inherent talents,” said Wang. “Just as you have no plans to take the examination to advance yourself, my failure means that this isn’t to be part of our fate.”

  Song wiped away his tears and told him, “For a long time I’ve wanted to say something, but I was afraid that you might find it startling. I’m not a living person, but a wandering ghost, drifting aimlessly. I had a reputation for talent when I was young, but I just couldn’t keep my mind on things in the examination hall. Then I went a little crazy and entered the capital, hoping that someone would acknowledge me by reading my writing. In 1644, I met with disaster and was killed, so year after year, I’ve been drifting around since then. It was my good fortune to become close friends with you, which is why I’ve done my utmost to encourage your studies, for throughout my life, I wasn’t able to fulfill my hopes, thus I truly want to help my dear friend succeed. Now that your writing has suffered a setback like this, how can I feel indifferent about it!”

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  Eight hundred liang: With a liang approximately equal to an ounce, Wang’s looking at about sixteen pounds of gold.

  1644 . . . killed: Song’s death is undoubtedly linked to the Manchu overthrow of the Ming government and establishment of the Qing dynasty in 1644.

  Wang was also moved to tears, and asked plaintively, “Why are talented persons forced to take inferior positions?”

  “Last year,” Song told him, “the emperor of heaven entrusted Confucius to help the Hell King check for the ghosts of disaster victims, and those of superior ability were given official positions, while those of inferior talent were sent back to the world to be reincarnated. I’ve already been recruited, but I haven’t reported to take my position because I wanted to see you succeed in the examination. Now I have to say farewell to you!”

  “What kind of position have you been given?” asked Wang.

  Song explained, “The Zitong office was lacking a Certifier of Literary Trends, and now there’s a deaf servant temporarily in charge of the paperwork, which is why the examination decision went against you, so perhaps there’s a chance I can contact Confucius to help rectify the situation.”

  The next day, Song gleefully arrived, declaring, “Our hopes have come to pass! After Confucius announced that he would order the examination topic to be made ‘discussion of the relationship between human nature and heavenly law in Confucian thought,’ he was pleased when he reexamined my writing, and said I could continue working as Certifier of Literary Trends. When the Hell King examined his records, he said he wanted to throw me out for my improper writing.

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  Zitong Office: Zhang Yazi, from Mt. Qiqu, Zitong county, Sichuan province, who died in war (c. 374 C.E.) during the Jin dynasty, was honored with a shrine on Mt. Qiqu; in 1316, the Yuan dynasty emperor Ren gave him the title, “Imperial Soveriegn Wenchang,” acknowledging that he’d long been honored by people as a deity, and is now considered a patron spirit of academic endeavors.

  “After Confucius made an argument defending me, me, I received the position. When I’d finished thanking him, he called me forward to his desk, and encouraged me, ‘Because I cherish your talent, I tried to help you to secure the position; you’d best purify your heart and make sacrifices in gratitude for the position, so as not to be tripped up by past faults.’ Thus it’s evident that in the underworld, even more importance is attached to moral integrity than to literature. You may not be a proficient scholar, but your virtue is almost perfect.”

  Wang wondered, “If that’s really so, then why was that deceitful Yuhang fellow successful?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Song. “Inevitably, the underworld doesn’t fail to reward or punish anyone. The blind monk whom we approached before is also a ghost, from an illustrious family in the previous dynasty. Because he wantonly discarded written documents of all kinds, he was punished with blindness. He wanted to cure people’s illnesses in repayment for his previous guilt, so that’s why he wanders the streets.”

  Wang ordered some wine to be set out. “That’s not necessary,” said Song. “All year round, I’ve been trespassing on your hospitality, and now that I have only a short time left, if you’ll just give me some sugar dumplings again, that’ll be enough.”

  Wang was so saddened that he wouldn’t eat anything, so he made Song sit down and eat alone. In moments, he’d already finished three dishes, patted his stomach with both hands, and then declared, “This meal was enough to last me for three days, and I’m doing this in commemoration of your virtue. If you turn from where we’ve been eating, and check all along the back of this building, you’ll find some mushrooms already growing there. Hide them, then later make them into some medicine, and you can use them to increase your son’s intelligence.”

  Wang asked when they would meet again, and Song answered, “Since I have official responsibilities, it would arouse suspicion if we met.”

  “Would it help to pour libations of wine in the Zitong temple, to express my good wishes for you?” Wang asked.

  “That would be pointless,” replied Song. “The ninth heaven is far, far away, but if you lead an upright life and act forthrightly, some local underworld official will surely report it to me, and I’ll know about it.” When he finished speaking, he took his leave of Wang and vanished.

  Wang looked behind the building and found some purple mushrooms growing there, so he picked them and hid them. Beside the building there was a new tomb, shaped like a sugar dumpling. Wang returned home, becoming even more hardworking and self-motivated.

  One night, he dreamed that Song arrived in a covered carriage to tell him, “Because of a petty resentment in a former life, you killed a maidservant by mistake, which cut you off from good fortune and reputation; but now your honest behavior has already negated that action. Moreover, your bad luck isn’t going to be sufficient to interfere with your receiving an official appointment.” That year, he was successful in the local examinations; the following year, he went even further by triumphing in the provincial level civil service examination. Thus he no longer had to take any examinations.

  He had two sons, one of whom was hopelessly dumb until he ate the mushrooms and became extremely intelligent. Afterwards, taking the opportunity to visit Jinling, Wang ran into the Yuhang scholar while traveling, and being reunited after such a long separation, the scholar ingratiated himself obsequiously to Wang, though his hair was now speckled with gray.

  The collector of these strange tales remarks, “The Yuhang scholar brazenly bragged about himself, and though his writing might not be worthless, his prideful attitude made people find him unbearable. Heaven had long been disgusted with him, and thus even ghosts took part in mocking him. Only the official responsible for the smelly writing, that was so repulsive to the blind monk, judged the Yuhang scholar to be a successful examinee.”

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  Ninth heaven: The highest celestial realm.

  Jinling: Now the city of Nanjing, in Jiangsu province.

  322. The Ugly Fox

  Scholar Mu was from Changsha. His family was poor and couldn’t even afford winter clothing. One night he was sitting around, bored, when a woman entered, dressed in dazzlingly beautiful clothing, but possessing a dark, ugly face. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, smiling.

  The startled Mu asked her who she was, and she explained, “I’m a fox immortal. I felt sorry for you sitting here bored and lonely, so I decided to visit you so we could make your cold bed warm together.” Mu was scared since she was a fox, and he was repulsed by her ugliness, so he began yelling for help.

  She took a tael of silver and placed it on his table, saying, “If you’ll agree to our making love, you can take t
his as a present.” Mu was pleased at this and complied with her request. There was no blanket for the mattress on the bed, so the woman used her lovely robe.

  As the dawn arrived, she got up and urged Mu, “With the tael I gave you, you can hurry off to the market to buy all the soft silk coverlets for the bed, warm clothing, and food you need. If you’re always kind to me, you’ll never have to worry about being poor.” Then she departed.

  Mu told his wife what had happened, and she was also quite pleased, so she headed off to the market to purchase the silk, to begin stitching it together. When the fox woman arrived that night, she saw the new bed covers lying there, and happily exclaimed, “Your wife worked so hard at this!” The fox woman then gave her some money, too, as a reward. Following this, she came every night. Whenever she left, she always made sure to leave something for the couple.

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  Changsha: Capital of Hunan province.

  In a year’s time, Mu was living in a clean, well-constructed house, and he and his wife were dressed in splendid clothing, thanks to the gifts of their patroness. The woman gradually began leaving them less money, which resulted in the return of Mu’s feelings of disgust for her, so he hired a Daoist magician to come and put up paper talismans on their doors to ward off the fox.

  The woman ripped them to shreds with her teeth and cast them aside, then entered and pointed at Mu, crying, “So you’ve turned your back on your pledge to love me, despite all I’ve done for you! These things can’t do anything to me! If you can’t stand to see me, I’ll just leave on my own. But if our ties are to be severed, I demand that you repay me for everything I gave you!” Then she left in a rage.

  Mu was frightened, so he went to tell the Daoist what had happened. The Daoist began to set up an altar, but before he was even finished, he suddenly fell to the ground, with blood running down his cheek; when Mu looked more closely, he found that one of the Daoist’s ears had been cut off. Everyone there was horrified, and ran off in a panic; the Daoist, too, covered his wound and fled.