by Pu Songling
“Our camaraderie has made us very happy,” Gao replied, “so why the sudden haste to part? Besides, your pockets are empty, so I couldn’t possibly burden you with the responsibility of being my host.”
Chen fervently repeated his invitation, insisting, “We’ll have a few cups of wine, so it won’t cost much.”
“Where do you wish to meet?” asked Gao.
“In the garden,” replied the beggar. They happened to be experiencing a severe winter at the time. Gao considered just how bitterly cold the pavilion in the garden would be. Chen assured him, “There’s no reason not to hold it there.”
Thus Gao followed him into the garden. He felt the air suddenly begin to warm, like it was already March. Then when they came to the pavilion, it felt even warmer. Rare birds had flocked there, singing and chirping gaily, just like it was springtime.
In the pavilion, there were small tables decorated with agate and jade inlay. There was a crystal screen that was utterly clear, but reflected light like a bronze mirror: inside it, they could see flowers and trees shaking in the breeze, some blossoming while others weren’t; then some birds that were as white as snow flew in and sang from their perches.
Gao tried to reach out his hand to pet them, but it passed through their images, like there was nothing there. He was startled for quite some time.
When they took their seats, Gao noticed a myna bird perched on a shelf, which then cried out, “The tea’s here!” Presently he saw a phoenix, the sun shining in its face, holding in its beak a tray made from red jade on which there sat two ceramic cups filled with wonderfully fragrant tea, stretching its neck forward so the cups sat there before the men like towering mountain peaks. When they finished drinking the tea, they placed the cups back on the tray in the phoenix’s beak, and with a flapping of its wings, it flew away.
Then the myna bird cried, “The wine’s here!” A green luan and a yellow crane, fluttering lightly, flew out from inside the sun, carrying a jug and wine cups in their beaks, then set everything down on the tables.
In moments, all of the birds began approaching with delicacies for them to eat, ceaselessly flying back and forth; a variety of precious dishes were set out, filling the tables in the blink of an eye with aromatic treats and limpid wine, all of uncommon quality. Chen watched as Gao drank without restraint, then remarked, “Your capacity for liquor requires a larger goblet.”
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Luan: Also known as the simurgh, this bird has “a pentachromatic feather pattern, the shape of a fowl,” and a wide vocal range (Sterckx 179).
The myna bird then called out, “The large goblet is here!” Suddenly Gao saw something flashing at the edge of the sun, then a giant butterfly bearing a cup made from a large spiral seashell, large enough to hold about a dou of wine so he could sample everything from the tables.
Gao looked closely, observing that the butterfly was larger than a wild goose, its wings graceful, elegant, and magnificently beautiful, inspiring him repeatedly to gasp in awe. Chen called out, “Butterly, persuade him to drink more!”
The butterly spread its wings wide as though for flight, then was transformed into a beautiful woman moving with a dancing motion, in lovely embroidered clothing, who stood before him, offering more wine. “You shouldn’t persuade him to drink before performing for him,” Chen urged.
The woman then began to dance lithely. Her movements brought him close to rapture as her feet left the ground by more than a chi, while she continuously bent her head to look in his direction, always keeping her feet together, then turned her body upside-down with a flip and landed on her feet without stirring up the least bit of dust.
The butterfly woman sang,
“Flying swiftly, they come in succession while the crowd converses cheerfully,
Alighting on flowers and branches embarrassed to be less beautiful than they.
Winding, they’re oblivious in their flight to the fall of golden hairpins
As observers turn to watch the butterflies flutter over the fence to the east.”
Her song lingered in the air, continuing on as it echoed in the pavilion’s rafters.
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Chi: A length equal to 1/3 meter.
Dou: A measure equal to one decaliter—a large goblet indeed.
Gao was completely enchanted by her and wanted to pull her over to drink with him. Chen told her to have a seat, then gave her some wine. After drinking so much wine earlier, Gao felt aroused, rose to his feet and took the woman amorously into his arms.
As he stared at her closely, she changed into a yaksha, with eyes bulging from their sockets and teeth protruding from her snout, her flesh black and wrinkled, almost indescribably ugly in her grotesquerie. Gao in terror let loose of her and hid behind a table, trembling in fright.
Chen took his chopsticks and smacked the woman on the snout with them, chanting, “Begone now!” The instant he struck her, she transformed once again into a butterfly and fluttered away.
Gao was no longer frightened, so he wanted to leave the pavilion. He noticed the moon glowing like something freshly washed and felt inspired, so told Chen, “You provided wine and delicacies that came from the sky, so your home must also be in the heavens. Why not take me there, as your friend, for a visit?”
“I could do that,” replied Chen.
He proceeded to take Gao’s hand and leapt up into the air. Gao then felt their bodies moving through the dark sky till they came to the heavens’ entrance. He saw a high gate there, with an opening in it that was round like the top of a well, and everything was illuminated by a bright light like it was daytime. The steps and paths leading in were all paved with a blue-green stone that was perfectly smooth, as though it had never been scuffed.
There was a mighty tree that was several zhang in height; red flowers bloomed on it, each as large as a lotus blossom, filling the entirety of the tree. Beneath it, a peerlessly beautiful woman was scrubbing some red clothing on a block. Gao stood numbly staring at her, forgetting even to move.
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Yaksha: A demon of the earth, air, or “lower heavens,” according to Chinese Buddhism, characterized as “malignant, and violent,” a devourer of human flesh (Soothill and Hodous 253). Zhang: A length equal to 3.33 meters.
When the woman saw this, she angrily shouted, “Where’d this crazy fellow come from, and how’d he get here!” Then she took the stick that she used to pound the clothes she was washing and hit him in the back with it. Chen quickly pulled Gao to an unoccupied place and severely scolded him.
Despite all the wine he’d drunk, Gao suddenly found himself sobering up after having been pounded, and consequently felt anxious and ashamed. Thus he followed after Chen and found them both standing with a white cloud underfoot. “We have to go our separate ways now,” Chen informed him. “There’s something I have to urge you to be cautious about and keep in mind not to forget: your life is about to end, so tomorrow you must hurry into the western mountains, where you can hide to escape danger.” Gao wanted to keep him there, but Chen turned and left.
Gao felt the cloud gradually begin to descend until he landed in the garden and the landscape was back to normal. He went inside and told his wife about what had happened, as they marvelled together over the strange occurrences. When she looked closely at the clothes he was wearing, she could see where he’d been hit on the back with the washing stick, for there was a strange red mark there, as red as brocade, accompanied by a rare fragrance.
He woke up early the next morning, mindful of Chen’s words, wrapped up some food and went off into the mountains. A dense fog blocked out the sky, so he couldn’t find the footpaths in the darkness. Walking quietly but quickly, he suddenly misstepped and fell into a mist-filled hole that was so wide, he couldn’t feel the sides of it; fortunately, he wasn’t hurt.
It took him a good long while to get his bearings, and as he looked up, he saw thin, floating clouds like those that emerged from steamer baskets. Then he sighed to hi
mself, “The immortal told me to run away, but in the end I couldn’t escape my fate, for when will I ever be able to get out of this hole!”
He sat down to pass the time, eventually noticing that he could see a faint light, so he stood up and slowly approached it till he came to an open space. Three old men were occupied there with a game of chess, and upon seeing Gao arrive, they ignored him, continuing on with their game. Gao squatted down to watch.
When they finished the game, they put the pieces away into a box, then asked Gao how he’d come to be there. He explained, “I fell after I lost my way.”
One of the old men informed him, “This isn’t a place for mortals, so you shouldn’t stay here for long. I’ll help you find your way back.” Then he led Gao back to the bottom of the hole he’d fallen into, where he felt the thin clouds close around him and lift him upwards, until he was able to step out on level ground again.
He saw that the leaves on the mountain’s trees had turned dark yellow and were falling from the trees as the wind whistled through them, like it was the end of autumn. “It was winter when I came here, so how could it have turned to autumn?” he wondered in surprise.
He hurried home, where his wife was startled to see him and wept as they stood there together. As Gao asked her why she was crying, his wife replied, “When you left three years ago and never returned, everyone thought you must be dead.”
“How strange,” said Gao, “because to me, it was just a matter of moments.” He took out the food that he’d packed and had been carrying around his waist, but it had already turned to dust. They were both astonished.
His wife told him, “After you went away, I dreamt that two men in black clothing and glowing sashes, like they’d come to collect our taxes, rushed into the house, looked all around, and demanded, ‘Where’s he gone?’
“I yelled at them, ‘He’s gone out. If you’re here on official business, what are you doing in my bedroom!’ The two then left, both saying as they walked out, ‘How strange, how strange.’” Then Gao realized that the men he’d encountered had been immortals; in her dream, however, his wife had encountered ghosts.
Any time thereafter that Gao was entertaining guests, he donned the robe that the washing stick had struck, and it would fill the room with a rare fragrance, neither musk nor orchid, and if he sweated while wearing it, the fragrance became even more pervasive.
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His wife had encountered ghosts: The two ghostly men had obviously been dispatched from the underworld to collect Gao, whose time to die had come.
494. The Female Impersonator
Ma Wanbao, from Dongchang, was an unrestrained and unruly fellow. His wife, whose name was Tian, was equally wild and dissolute in speech and behavior. Yet as a couple, they were entirely devoted to each other.
A girl who showed up at the home of their neighbor, an old woman, told her that she was looking for temporary refuge from her vicious in-laws. She was superbly skilled as a seamstress, so the old woman put her to work, quite pleased to allow her to stay there.
After several days, the girl told the old woman that she had the ability to perform massages at night that would help to relieve women’s health complaints. Though the old woman often came to Ma’s house to praise the girl’s talents in this area, Tian didn’t show any interest in the matter.
Ma took the opportunity one day to spy on the girl through a crack in their wall, noting that she was eighteen or nineteen and very poised, finding himself secretly infatuated with her. He concocted a plan with his wife for her to fake an ailment and then they invited the girl to come over. The old woman visited her first, coming near Tian’s bed to inquire how she was feeling, then explained to her, “The girl’s received your message and she’s all ready to see you. But she’s afraid of men, so please don’t let your gentleman husband in while she’s here.”
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Dongchang: A prefecture in Pu’s day, now known as Liaocheng county in Shandong province.
“Our house isn’t very spacious,” Tian replied, “he comes and goes all the time, so what can I do about it?” She seemed to be lost in thought as she pondered the matter, then declared, “An uncle in the village west of here has invited Ma to come for drinks, so I’ll just urge him not to bother coming back home tonight—it’ll be really easy.” The old woman promised she’d take care of sending the girl over, then left.
Tian and Ma decided that they’d exchange places just like the banner of Zhao was switched for the banner of Han, a prospect that made them both happy.
As the day turned to dusk, the old woman led the girl to Tian, who asked her, “Is your husband going to be returning home tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Tian answered.
The girl seemed quite pleased, assuring Tian, “In that case, everything should be fine.” After exchanging a few more words, the old woman said goodbye and took her leave.
Tian proceeded to light a candle and spread out a large quilt, allowing the girl to get into bed first, then took off her own clothes and snuffed out the candle. Suddenly she gasped, “I almost forgot, the kitchen door hasn’t been closed to keep the dog from stealing food.” Accordingly, she got out of bed and opened the bedroom door for Ma, who stealthily entered and climbed into bed next to the girl.
Her voice trembling, she said, “I’m going to take care of your problem.” Then she softly spoke some intimate provocations. Ma, however, said nothing.
The girl began stroking Ma’s stomach, gradually moving down below his navel. Then she stopped rubbing with her hand and quickly put it between Ma’s legs, his organ springing erect as her wrist touched it. The girl was shocked and alarmed by what she found there, as though she’d grabbed a snake or a scorpion, so she jumped out of bed, wanting to run away.
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The banner of Zhao . . . for the banner of Han: A strategy employed to fool the enemy into believing they were meeting friendly forces; see Zhu (3:1668n3).
Ma held her to stop her from running, then put his own hand between her legs—and discovered a large male organ hanging there, too. He was so startled that he cried out for a light. Tian assumed that the scheme had gone wrong, so she burst in with a lantern, hoping to intervene and settle the dispute. When she saw that the naked girl had been flung to the ground and was begging for her life, however, she quickly backed out, embarrassed and scared.
Ma then began interrogating the “girl.” He learned that the fellow was Wang Erxi, from Gucheng, and his elder brother, Wang Daxi, had been a disciple of Sang Chong, so Erxi had learned the art of cross-dressing from him. “How many people have you shamed this way?” demanded Ma.
“I haven’t been doing this for very long,” replied Wang, “so only sixteen.”
Realizing that Erxi could receive a death sentence for his crimes, Ma mused about whether to tell the authorities, but felt pity for the young man due to his beauty, so instead he bound Wang’s hands behind his back and cut off his privates, causing him to fall unconscious as his blood spilled out.
In just a few moments, Wang Erxi regained consciousness, so Ma laid him on a bed, covered him with a quilt, then admonished him, “I’ll get some medicine from a doctor for you, but once your wound has healed over, you’ll serve me as long as you’re able—otherwise I’ll expose the truth and there’ll be no pardon for you.” Wang agreed to Ma’s stipulation.
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Gucheng: Part of modern Shandong province’s Pingyin county. Wang Daxi . . . Sang Chong: According to an account by author Lu Can (1494-1551), Sang was a female impersonator and “leader of a gang of vagabond men who dressed as women with bound feet, made their living plying trades such as sewing, and abused their disguise to gain unlawful sexual access to women of good families” (Zeitlin 111), and Wang Daxi is listed in the account as one of Sang’s gang members. Sang was eventually captured and executed by “slow slicing.”
The next day, the old woman came over. “She’s actually my aunt’s granddaughter, Wang Erjie,�
�� Ma lied, “and because heaven left her unable to bear children, her family drove her away, though we only realized we were related last night as she explained her situation to us. Suddenly she began to feel a bit under the weather, so I’m about to head to the marketplace for some medicines, then we’re going to ask her family to let her stay here as my wife’s companion.”
When the old woman entered the room and saw that Wang’s face was as pale as ashes, she approached the bed to ask what was wrong. “My private parts have swollen up terribly and I’m afraid I may have some horrible, deep-rooted abscess,” Wang replied. The old woman believed this explanation and returned home.
Ma helped Wang take some healing broth, administered some powdered medicine, and in time the wounded area scarred over. At night, Ma always led Wang to his bedroom to sleep with him, then in the morning Erxi got up early to work for Tian, drawing and carrying water, mending clothes, cleaning up and cooking—just like a maidservant.
Wang Erxi hadn’t been living there long when Sang Chong was publicly executed, along with his seven coconspirators, and only Erxi escaping unpunished. Proclamations had been posted everywhere, calling for the group’s arrest. Some of the villagers privately suspected Wang Erxi of being one of these female impersonators, so the old women of the village gathered to explore what was hidden under Wang’s skirt, and after doing so, their suspicions were all dismissed.
From then on, Wang felt obliged to Ma, working faithfully for him till the end of his life. After he died, he was buried west of their home, in the Ma family tomb, some traces of which still exist today.
The collector of these strange tales remarks, “One may well say that Ma Wanbao was pleased with being able to make use of Wang. Children are happy to pick up and play with a crab, but they’re afraid of its pinching claws, so they chop them off and stash them away. Alas, by adopting this kind of model, one could probably rule the entire world.”