Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)

by Roberts, Moss

  As Hsi Fang-p’ing’s spirit set out on the journey, he had no idea where he was headed. But he asked his way of travelers on the road, and they directed him to the city where his father was already in prison. Hsi went to the prison gates and saw his father lying under the eaves, a wreck of his former self. When the father lifted his eyes and saw his son, he wept pathetically. “All the jailors take bribes,” he said. “They have been beating me day and night. My legs are like pulp.”

  Hsi cursed the jailors. “If my father has committed a crime, he should be tried according to the law of the realm,” he said angrily. “How can you underworld demons take the law into your own hands?” Then he went out and prepared a written complaint. He appeared at the morning sessions held by the city god, voiced his grievance, and submitted the paper. Old Yang took fright and began passing out gifts before presenting himself to answer the charges. The city god showed Hsi Fang-p’ing no consideration and held that his complaint was groundless. Furious but without recourse, Hsi traveled some ten leagues in the kingdom of the dead until he reached the governor’s seat, where he complained formally about the favoritism shown by the city god and his underlings. The governor delayed judgment for half a month, then had Hsi beaten and ordered the city god to repeat the trial.

  Hsi arrived at the city again and was placed in the stocks, where he fumed because he could not make his wrongs known. Fearing that Hsi would try to appeal further, the city god sent guards to escort him forcibly home to the world of the living. The guards excused themselves at the gates to the upper world, and Hsi did not go through. He sneaked back to the underworld to appeal to the king of the dead against the cruelty and greed of the governor and the city god.

  The king at once took the two officials into custody to answer the charges. So the pair secretly sent their trusted henchmen to negotiate with Hsi, offering him one thousand pieces of silver if he would drop the case. Hsi rebuffed them. Several days later the keeper of the inn where Hsi was staying said to him, “You are too proud, my friend. The officials are seeking accommodation with you, but you are resisting them. I understand that each of them has offered gifts to the king, and I fear your cause is doomed.” Hsi took this to be idle rumor.

  But soon the court attendants came to summon him before the king of the dead, and the king was in a fury. He would not allow Hsi to make a deposition; instead he ordered twenty strokes for him.

  “What’s my offense?” cried Hsi, but the king seemed to hear nothing.

  “I’m only getting what I deserve!” shouted Hsi. “After all, who told me to be poor? No one; so it must be my fault.”

  The King grew even angrier and ordered him placed on a bed of fire. Two ghosts seized Hsi and took him away to the east yard, where there was an iron bed frame with a fire burning under it. The surface of the bed glowed red hot. The ghosts stripped him bare and heaved him onto it, kneading him and rolling him back and forth. The pain was intense. His bones and flesh were charred black, and he wished for death. After two hours of this, the ghost said, “Enough!” Then they lifted him up and told him to come down and put on his clothes. Luckily he could walk, though he was lame.

  Back at the hall of justice, the king of the dead said to him, “Will you still seek a new trial?”

  “A great wrong has yet to be rectified,” replied Hsi. “So long as heart and mind survive in me, it would be an insult to Your Majesty for me to withdraw. I demand the trial.”

  “What evidence will you present?” the king asked.

  “Evidence of all that I have suffered.”

  In a passion the king ordered his men to saw through Hsi Fang-p’ing’s body. The two ghosts took him to a wooden pole eight feet high with two boards standing at the foot of the pole. The tops and bottoms of the boards were dark with bloodstains. The ghosts were about to tie him to the planks when a shout came from the hall for “someone named Hsi.” The two ghosts marched him back. The king of the dead asked him, “Still brazen enough to call for a trial?”

  “I demand a trial,” was Hsi Fang-p’ing’s answer.

  The king ordered them to hurry him away and cut him open. The ghosts squeezed Hsi between the two boards and tied them to the pole. Then they began to saw. Hsi felt the top of his head slowly coming apart. Pain enveloped him, but he bore it without crying out. “Tough son of a gun,” he heard a ghost comment. The saw grated as it reached Hsi’s chest. “He’s a devoted son, and pure in heart,” he heard a ghost say. “Tilt the saw a bit so we don’t damage the heart.” Hsi felt the blade curving as it moved downwards. The pain doubled. His torso was divided. The boards were removed, and his two halves fell to the ground.

  The ghosts ascended the hall of justice to report on their mission. They were commanded to reunite the body and present it. The ghosts pushed the halves together, rejoined Hsi, and dragged him along the street. He could feel the strain on the seam where he had been sawed, for it ached and threatened to split open again. He stumbled and fell before he could move a step. One of the ghosts took a silk ribbon from his waist and gave it to Hsi, saying, “In recognition of your filial piety.” Hsi tied it on, and instantly his body felt vigorous and free of pain. He ascended the hall and prostrated himself.

  There the king of the dead repeated his question. Afraid to incur further suffering, Hsi answered simply, “I shall not press the charges.” The king immediately ordered him sent back to the world of the living. Escorts led him out the north gates, showed him the way home, and left. Hsi concluded that the officers of the dead were even more lawless than those in the world of the living. He could think of no way that he might reach the ear of the Highest, but he was determined to try.

  It was widely held in the world that the god Erh Lang of Kuank’ou township in Szechuan was a relative of the Highest—of God in Heaven. Hsi Fang-p’ing decided that if he could appeal to Erh Lang, who was regarded as both astute and upright, a miracle was still possible. Glad to be free of the two escorts, Hsi turned and went south. But two men caught up with him and said, “The king guessed that you would not go home, and he was right.” They bundled him back to the king of the dead.

  Hsi expected the king to be angrier than ever and the consequences to be even worse. But the king’s expression was not severe at all. “Your intentions are sincerely filial,” he told Hsi. “I have already redressed the wrong your father suffered. By now he has been reborn into a family of wealth and status. You will not have to appeal any further. We’re sending you home with one thousand pieces of silver and a guarantee that you will live to the age of one hundred years. Are you satisfied?”

  The king recorded this in the registry of life and death and set his huge seal upon it. Hsi was invited to inspect the entry personally. He expressed his appreciation and withdrew. The two ghosts accompanied him, but when they reached the road they began to drive him along and curse him. “What a cunning villain you are! Making us dash all over the place until we’re nearly dead! Any more trouble from you, and we’ll throw you in the mill and grind you to bits.”

  Hsi opened his eyes wide and yelled at them, “What’s this madness, you devils? You think I can endure being sawed in half but not the sting of your lashes? Let’s go back to see the king. If he has ordered me home, you need not trouble yourselves to escort me.” Hsi started running back the way they had come. This alarmed the ghosts, who spoke gently to him and persuaded him to resume his journey. As they went, Hsi purposely slowed his pace and rested often by the roadside, but the ghosts did not complain.

  In about half a day they reached a hamlet. The ghosts sat down to rest in front of a house with a door that was slightly ajar. Hsi seated himself on the threshold, and the ghosts caught him un-awares and pushed him inside the door. When he had gotten control of himself, he discovered that he had been born again an infant. He cried in indignation, refused his mother’s breast, and perished in three days.

  Separated from his reincarnated body, Hsi Fang-p’ing’s nebu-lous soul wavered. Yet he did not forget about Erh Lang
, the god from Kuank’ou. Hsi’s soul had moved a dozen miles along the road when it was surprised by an approaching cavalcade: banners and spears blocked the way. Ducking across the highway to avoid it, he ran into the bearers of the imperial regalia and was seized by the front horsemen. They bound him and brought him before a chariot, which held a magnificent young man. “Who are you?” he asked Hsi.

  Since the young man seemed to be a great minister, Hsi related his woes in detail. He ordered Hsi freed and told him to follow the chariot. Presently they arrived at a place where a dozen officials greeted them by the side of the road. The minister questioned each of them, then pointed to Hsi and told one official, “Here is a man from the world below who wishes to lodge a complaint. The matter should be resolved quickly.”

  Only then did Hsi learn from the entourage that the god in the chariot was the Ninth Imperial Prince of Heaven and that he had assigned Erh Lang to the case. Hsi examined Erh Lang closely. He was tall and slender and had a great beard, quite different from what the world of men pictured. After the Imperial Prince had gone, Hsi followed Erh Lang to a courthouse, where he found his father Lien, and Old Yang, together with the underlings from the kingdom of the dead.

  Soon some prisoners came out of the cage-carts: the city god, the governor, and the king of the dead himself! They were interrogated then and there in each other’s presence, and all Hsi Fang- p’ing’s charges were confirmed. The three officials trembled in fear, cowering like rats. Erh Lang drew his pen and immediately passed sentence, and the text was shown to all the parties:

  We find as follows: He who serves as king of the dead, undertaking an office of princely rank and enjoying the grace of the Highest, must have the probity and purity to lead all the officials in service, and must have no appetite for corruption. But you have used the splendor and power of your office in a vainglorious display of status. With goatish stubbornness and wolfish avarice you have sullied your integrity before the Highest.

  As the axe strikes the wedge and the wedge cuts the wood, your conduct starts a chain reaction that eventually sucks the blood out of women and children. As the whale devours the fish and the fish devours the shrimp, so the life of the lowly is miserable. Let the waters of the West River be drawn to purge your innards. Let your seat of insolent luxury be consigned to flames at once. Then we shall place you in the boiling cauldron which you yourself have used to force many a victim to confess!

  As for the city god and the governor, in behalf of the Highest they serve the common people as parent-officials, pastors of the human flock. Though they are offices of lower rank, a true office-seeker will not disdain them. Even if they are pressured by higher officials, they should resist. But you two brandish your hawklike claws, giving no thought to the poverty of the people. You have worked with the cunning of a monkey, indifferent to the plight of the dead. Taking bribes to pervert the law, you hid a bestial heart behind a human face! You shall have the marrow scooped from your bones and the hair plucked from your hides. You shall suffer death even in the realm of the dead and be reborn beasts, not men.

  As for the underlings, since they are already demons and not of a human kind, if they will concentrate on amending their conduct in public office, they may be reborn in human form. They must not stir up waves in the sea of suffering and commit such sins as overcast the very heavens. Their lawless arrogance has brought injustices that have caused heaven to send summertime frost in sympathy. Their raging ferocity has severed man’s world from the gods’ and terrorized the kingdom of the dead until every man knows that he must revere only the jailor. And they have aided ignorant officials in their cruelty, making them feared as butchers. To the execution grounds with them! Chop up their limbs and boil them. Then pick from the cauldron whatever remains of muscle or bone.

  And now for this fellow Yang, who though wealthy was inhumane, contentious, and full of deceit. He covered the ground with bribes, shrouding the throne of the king of the dead in darkness, creating a stench of copper cash that reached unto the heavens, robbing the realm of the dead of all justice. The corruption had spread so far that ghosts were in his employ, and his influence was felt among the gods. Yang’s household shall be confiscated and given to Hsi Fang-p’ing to repay his filial conduct. Let all the prisoners now be taken to the T’ai Mountain for execution of punishment.

  The god Erh Lang turned to Hsi Lien and said, “We are mindful of your son’s devotion and your own gentle nature and therefore grant you a thirty-year extension among the living.” Erh Lang assigned two officers to escort father and son home to their hamlet. Hsi Fang-p’ing copied the text of the decision and read it with his father on the way.

  When they reached home, Hsi Fang-p’ing came to himself first. He had his father’s coffin opened and the body examined. It was stiff and icy, but after a few days it gradually warmed and at last revived. Hsi searched for the copy of Erh Lang’s writ, but it had vanished into the Unseen.

  The Hsi household prospered. Within three years they had extended their fertile acres throughout the countryside, while the fortunes of Yang’s descendants declined until their buildings and farms came into the possession of Hsi. Once a villager bought one of the Yang fields. That night he was scolded in his dreams by a god for taking what belonged to Hsi. The villager ignored the warning, but after he had planted the field and reaped less than a peck of grain, he resold the land to Hsi. Hsi Lien himself lived beyond ninety years of age.

  The Recorder of Things Strange says: Everyone speaks of paradise, forgetting that the living and the dead are worlds apart, and that every sense or thought is lost in death. Not knowing whence he comes, how can man know whither he goes, much less the events of repeated deaths and rebirths? Thus how great the accomplishment of young Hsi Fang-p’ing, whose loyalty and filial love stayed firm through an eternity!

  —P’u Sung-ling

  Sharp Sword

  Toward the end of the Ming Dynasty the Shantung region was filled with bandits, and every township had to post soldiers for protection. Whenever a bandit was caught, he was swiftly executed. In one township called Chanch’iu there was a soldier who carried an extremely sharp sword. When he struck, it seemed as if he were drawing the blade through empty air, touching neither flesh nor bone.

  It happened that ten bandits were captured and brought to the Chanch’iu authorities. One of the prisoners recognized the soldier with the sharp sword and sidled up to him. “They say your sword is so sharp it can cut off a man’s head in a single stroke,” he ventured. “I wonder if you would execute me.”

  “Very well,” replied the soldier. “But take care to stay close to me. Don’t get separated.” The bandit followed the soldier to the execution grounds. The soldier drew his sword, flourished it, and in a flash cut the prisoner’s head off. It rolled several feet and was still turning when it exclaimed admiringly, “Some sharp sword!”

  —P’u Sung-ling

  The Skull

  When Chuang Tzu was going to Ch’u he saw a hollow skull, a shape gleaming white. He stirred it with his whip and spoke, “Have you come to this, good sir, lusting for life and losing all order and reason? Was it through the overthrow of your state? Or through the executioner’s axe? Was it bcause of misconduct that brought shame to your entire family? Or perhaps from hunger and cold, or simply the length of your years?”

  With these words Chuang Tzu took up the skull, made himself a pillow with it, and went to sleep. During the night the skull appeared to him in a dream and said, “You spoke to me like a pedantic debater. And what you described were the heavy cares of human life, which the dead do not have. Would you like to know the meaning of death, my friend?”

  Chuang Tzu said yes, and the skull continued, “The dead have no king above them and no subjects below them; neither have they the toil of the seasons. Only heaven and earth limit their span of time. Even the southward-facing sovereigns have no pleasures surpassing these.” Doubtfully, Chuang Tzu said, “Suppose I were to have the fates restore your phys
ical form—the bones, the flesh, the skin—and return you to your family, your neighbors, and your friends. Would you be willing?”

  The skull seemed to frown as it said, “Do you think I would throw away the pleasures of sovereignty to go back to the wearisome world of men?”

  —Chuang Tzu

  JUDGES AND DIPLOMATS

  The Sheep Butcher and His King

  King Chao of the state of Ch’u lost his country. Yüeh the sheep butcher followed the king in flight. When King Chao returned to power, he intended to reward those who had remained with him. When Yüeh’s turn came, that follower said to the king’s messenger, “The king lost his country. I lost my butcher shop. The king regained his country. I regained my butcher shop. Since my position and my income have been restored, is any further reward necessary?”

  This was reported to the king, who said, “Make him take it.”

  This was reported to the sheep butcher, who said, “The king did not lose power through any fault of mine. And I never expected to suffer punishment for it. The king did not regain power through any merit of mine. So I never expected a reward for it.”

  This was reported to the king, who said, “Have him appear before me.”

  This was reported to the sheep butcher, who said, “The law of Ch’u says that no one may be presented to the king save for a great reward for great achievements. In this case I lacked the knowledge to keep the state from harm, and I lacked the courage to die resisting the traitors. When the enemy army entered the capital, I fled from the fighting out of fear, not because I was purposely following His Majesty. Now His Majesty wants to set the law aside and receive me. This is not the way for a subject to become publicly known.”