Shih Ying is carried away in a dream and receives a revelation. Amidst

the toil and welter of daily life Yu Tsun finds the maiden of his heart.

OUR STORY BEGINS IN SUCHOW, THE STRONG CITY SITUATED IN THE

southeastern edge of the great plain of China. Beyond the Emperor's

Gate, which leads into the quarter of the rich and aristocratic, the

region of comfortable living and "red dust," stretched the "Ten Mile

Street." In a narrow bottleneck of that street, close by an old temple

familiarly known as the "Temple of the Gourd," lived the respected citi‐ 

zen Shih Ying with his good and virtuous wife, nee Feng.

Shih Ying was one of the most respected, if not the most aristocratic,

people in his suburb. Being the fortunate possessor of a nice country

estate, he was able to live a life of leisure. He was not a lover of honors

or riches and was quite happy just tending his flowers, cultivating bam‐ 

boo, or reciting poetry over a glass of good wine. In short, he lived an

idyllic and unworldly life. Only one thing was lacking to his complete

happiness: he was already past fifty and had no little son to rock on

his knee. Fate had granted him only a little daughter, now three years

old, named Lotus.

On one of those seemingly endless summer days he was poring over

his books in the library. Overcome with the heat, his head had sunk

down and his forehead lay against the edge of the table. As he dropped

off to sleep he seemed to be wandering through an unknown dream‐ 

land. While he was walking two priests joined him on his way and went along beside him. One of them was a Taoist, the other a servant

of Buddha. He heard the first saying to the second: "Why did you take

the stone with you?"

The bonze replied: "In order to intervene in a love drama which by

the will of fate is about to be enacted in the earthly world. The hero of

the drama has not yet experienced his earthly reincarnation. I wish to

take the opportunity of sending the stone into the world to enable the

hero to play his role in that drama."

"And where does the drama begin?"

"That is a strange story. In the distant west, on the shores of the

River of the Spirits, where stands the boundary stone of the three ex‐ 

istences, the plant Purple Pearl once grew. At that time our stone was

still living a restless, wandering life. The goddess Nu Kua, whose task

it was to repair the damaged posts of the gate of heaven, had finally re‐ 

jected it as unfit, because of its composition, out of the 36,501 stones

which she had set aside for her purpose. By contact with her divine

hand it had become possessed of a soul, hence it could change its loca‐ 

tion whenever it pleased, and make itself larger or smaller. It felt pain‐ 

fully conscious day ancr night of the humiliation which it had suffered

in being rejected by the goddess as unsuitable.

"In the course of its wanderings it came one day to the palace of the

Fairy of Fearful Awakening. The fairy, who knew its higher destiny,

took it into her household staff and gave it the title of 'Guardian of the

Radiance of the Stone of the Gods' in the Palace of the Red Clouds.

But it simply could not settle down and give up its wandering life.

"It used to steal away frequently from its duties in the palace and go

off to the shores of the River of the Spirits. There, one day, it discov‐ 

ered the 'plant, Purple Pearl. It became very fond of Purple Pearl and

to show its affection used to sprinkle it daily with fragrant dew. Thus it

saved the delicate plant from f . ding away too soon. Thanks to the be‐ 

neficent refreshment with fragrant dew, through which it drank in the

finest powers of the mutual relations between heaven and earth, it was

enabled later to drop its earthly form of plant and take human shape.

The delicate plant turned into a young girl.

"An invincible longing often drove this young girl beyond the calm

'Sphere of Banished Suffering.' When she was hungry she loved to eat

of the 'Tree of Secret Love Fruits.' When she was thirsty she loved best

to sip from the 'Source of Drenching Grief.' Again and again she re‐ 

membered how in the past, when she was a frail plant, someone used

to water her with sweet dew, and her longing to requite that kindly

deed never left her. I cannot repay him by doing the same for him, she

used often to think to herself. But if it should be granted me, in my next existence, to meet him as a fellow being on earth, then I hope I shall

thank him with as many tears as I can shed in a whole long life.

"That, then, is the prehistory of the love drama which by the will of

Providence is now about to be enacted upon earth. Those taking part,

among them the plant Purple Pearl, are already preparing to step

down upon the earthly stage. Therefore let us hasten to take back our

stone to its mistress,‐ the Fairy of Fearful Awakening, so that she can

enter it in the list of those taking part in that drama, and send it to

join the other players."

"Very strange indeed," remarked the Taoist. "To repay a debt of

gratitude with tears is definitely something new. The story seems to me

to be sufficiently worthwhile to induce us too to step down into the

dust of the earth. Perhaps we may succeed thereby in effecting the re‐ 

demption of some erring souls. This would indeed be a meritorious

work."

"That is certainly my opinion too. I therefore propose that we first

of all deliver our foundling, the stone, to the Fairy of Fearful Awaken‐ 

ing, and later descend ourselves also, when all the actors in this drama

of misfortune are already met together down below. Up to the present

only half of them are gathered there."

"Good. Let us be off, then, to the Palace of the Red Clouds."

The sleeper Shih Ying had followed every word of their con^yersa‐ 

tion. He now stepped ahead of the two, who were walking besidye him,

saluted them with a bow, and addressed them as follows: "Reverend

Masters, this simple fellow was an accidental listener to your strange

conversation. He did not understand its full meaning. If you would

favor him with a more detailed explanation of it, he would listen most

devoutly and respectfully. He would very much like to profit in some

small measure from your wisdom, and so not sink into the vortex of

foolishness."

"It is not permitted to us to speak in advance of matters concerning

destiny," was the reply. "When the time comes, think of us. If you do

so you will escape the fiery pit of perdition."

"May I not at least see the object of your conversation?"

"That is permitted to you, by the will of Providence," said the bonze,

passing him the desired object. Shih Ying took it in his hand and

looked at it. It was a lovely jade stone with a fresh, pale radiance. On

the upper surface were engraved the four ideographs tung ling pao‐yu,

"Stone of penetrating spiritual power." The bottom surface too showed

a series of small written characters. Shih Ying was about to decipher

them when the bonze took the stone out of his hand again, saying: "We

have arrived at the Realm of Illusion," and strode on ahead with the Taoist. Shih Ying saw them walking in through a high stone archway,

over which stood the words in big letters: "Phantom Realm of the

Great Void." On the two pillars of the arch he read the couplet:

When seeming is taken for being, being becomes seeming,

Where nothing is taken for something, something becomes nothing.

He was about to hurry after the two men when a frightful clap of

thunder resounded in his ears. It seemed‐ as if the earth were about to

collapse. With a loud cry he woke up. He opened his eyes and blinked

at the glowing orb of the evening sun, which was blazing slantwise

through the banana leaves. Already he had half forgotten his vision.

The nurse appeared on the threshold with little Lotus in her arms.

Shih Ying took the child from her, pressed it tenderly as a jewel to his

bosom, and dandled it and played with it for a while. Then he took it

with him outside the hall door, and stood there looking at the noisy

throng in the street. He was just about to go back into the house when

two men in priestly attire passed by one a servant of Buddha, the

other a disciple of Lao Tzu. The bonze was barefooted. His shorn head

was full of scurf and scratches. The Taoist was lame in one foot; the

hair of his bare head hung about in an uncombed tangle. Along they

came gesticulating wildly and laughing like a pair of madmen. They

stopped in front of Shih Ying's threshold and remained a moment

staring at him and the child. Then the bonze suddenly began to sigh

loudly, and he said to Shih Ying: "Sir, what ill‐fated creature is that

you hold in your arms? It will bring nothing but sorrow to its parents!"

Shih Ying thought the man was mad, so he took no notice of his

talk. But the bonze continued to address him with great emphasis.

"Give it to me! Give it to me!" he urged, pointing to the child in his

arms.

This was too much for Shih Ying. He pressed the baby more firmly

to his breast, and was already turning to go away, when the bonze

broke into a shrill peal of laughter and called out after him:

"A fool dotes;

Tender blossoms

Are cut by the frost.

Take care

at New Year,

Fire and flame."

Shih Ying hung back. He would have very much liked to have the

mysterious rhyme explained to him. But he heard the Taoist priest say

to the bonze: "From now on our paths divide. We shall work apart.

After three aeons 1 shall await you in the well‐known cemetery on the Pei Mang Hill near Lo yang. We shall then go back together to the

Phantom Realm of the Great Void and have the affair of the stone ob‐ 

literated from the register."

"Good," Shih Ying heard the bonze reply, whereupon the two sud‐ 

denly disappeared. Shih Ying was still in a dazed and stupefied state,

thinking over the strange incident, when he saw his good friend and

neighbor Chia Yu Tsun coming towards the house. Yu Tsun was a poor

young student who lodged near by in the Temple of the Gourd. He was

the son of an official in Huchow, who had died early, leaving his family

in poor circumstances. A year ago he had set out to make his way to the

capital, intending to enter for the great public examinations and win

fame and success. He had only got as far as Suchow, however, when his

money ran out. So he had foun.d temporary refuge and lodging in a

monk's cell in the Temple of the Gourd. Here hte continued his studies

industriously, at the same time earning his board and keep by writing

for the unlettered. In this way he had made the acquaintance of Shih

Ying, and was soon on terms of friendship with him. For Shih Ying had

a great regard for the art of letters, and he took a keen delight in

the profound and genuine culture of the brilliant young scholar.

Yu Tsun now approached with a polite bow saying: "I see that you

are leaning against the doorpost and craning your neck. No doubt you

are looking out for any novel happenings in the town?"

"That is not it," replied Shih Ying, "but the child was restless, and

I tried to distract her a bit by taking her to the door with me. My

worthy brother has come just at the right time. Let us go in and shorten

the endless day with pleasant conversation."

He gave the child to the nurse and showed his visitor into the library.

They had barely had time to drink a bowl of tea and exchange four or

five sentences when the host was called away to another visitor in the

outer room. Shih Ying asked his friend to remain but to excuse him for

a few minutes. So Yu Tsun stayed and passed the time of waiting rum‐ 

maging and searching out old books from among the volumes in the

library. While he was thus engaged he suddenly heard, through the

window, the clear tones of a feminine voice. He laid the old books aside,

slipped over to the window, and leaned out. Not far from the window

he saw a young girl bent down between the flower beds. She was pick‐ 

ing flowers and humming a song as she did so. She was not exactly

ten‐tenths_beautiful, nevertheless she was quite uncommonly charming.

At any rate, Yu Tsun remained at the window, staring steadily out at

her. Then, chancing to look up, she also caught sight of him.

He is poorly clothed, it is true, but stately in form and appearance,

she thought to herself as she turned away hastily. What handsome

features he's got, and what expressive eyes! He must surely be the scholar Yu Tsun, the friend of whom my master speaks so much, and

whom he is so anxious to help whenever he has a chance. Yes, it must

be he, because all the other people who frequent our house are of the

well‐to‐do classes. But one has only to see him to understand why our

master always believes that he will not have to go about much longer in

such old and torn clothes. She could not resist looking back once more

at the window. Then she disappeared farther into the garden.

Yu Tsun was immense'y pleased at having obviously made an im‐ 

pression on her despite his shabby appearance. That girl is hoth wise

and observant, he said to himself, and she can perceive the higher

value of a person like myself despite unfavorable circumstances.

Moved by these thoughts, he strode meditatively through the garden

and out into a street by a side door. For the guest was remaining to din‐ 

ner, as a servant had informed him, and so it would be too long for

him to wait. He could not forget the little incident of the pretty girl in

the garden who had turned round twice to look at him.

On the evening of the Mid‐Autumn Festival, after the usual family

meal was over, his patron went round to invite him to drink a friendly

glass of wine alone with him in his library. Yu Tsun was sitting by him‐ 

self in his monastery cell in a melancholy mood. Contemplation of the

harvest moon had inspired him to write a poem of eight lines in which

he had described in cryptic words his recent experience and revealed

the secret wishes which it had awakened. The thought that an unkind

fate would deny him the fulfillment of his desires made him sigh deeply,

look up full of sorrow at the moon, and bring forth the following addi‐ 

tional lines:

In darkness languishes the precious stone.

When will its excellence enchant the world?

The precious clasp hidden away

Longs for wings to fly to the bride.

While he was repeating these lines over to himself in came Shih

Ying.

"It seems to me that my worthy brother makes high demands of life

and considers himself much above the common herd," he remarked

with a smile.

"Oh, I was not referring to myself," replied Yu Tsun, embarrassed.

" T hat's an old poem. It just occurred to me by chance. You flatter me

m thinking it mine."

Shih Ying gave his invitation and took Yu Tsun back with him to his

library. He drank his health gaily and encouraged him to help himself

from the many dishes of dainties which he kept on tirelessly ordering

for him. Thus it happened that Yu Tsun, accustomed as he was to the

spare diet of a monk, fell more and more into that mood of exhilara‐ 

tion in which the mouth expresses the things which move the heart.

The pleasant sound of strings and flutes and merry songs drifted in

from the street and from the neighboring houses. Up in the heavens

hung the shining white orb of the full moon. In a trice Yu Tsun had

improvised a quatrain in praise of the harvest moon.

"Magnificent! Divine!" cried his host, enthusiastically. "Once more

my worthy brother has given a proof of his poetic ability. I have always

said that you would not wade for long in the slough of dejection. Soon

you will be floating upon the clouds. I congratulate you in advance. Do

me the honor to drink!"

And he reached him another beaker of wine filled with his own hand.

Yu Tsun emptied the beaker. Then he took a deep breath and said:

"Pray do not think that it is the wine which has inspired your humble

younger brother with daring words. I am confident that I shall be able

to pass the examination and have my name written in the list of the

chosen. But of what avail is all my ability if my travelling trunk is

empty? The road to Peking is a long one. If some good souls do not help me, I fear I shall not make it with the little I earn as a scrivener."

"Why has my worthy brother not spoken of this sooner?" his host

interrupted quickly. "I have been thinking of this matter for some time

past, but I did not trust myself to broach it. Now, however, I can make

up for lost time. True, I am not a highly educated man; nevertheless I

know what is seemly between friends. Next spring, after an interval

of three years, a State examination is to be held again. My worthy

brother must on no account miss this opportunity and he must therefore

set out for the capital as soon as possible in order there to prove his

abilities. I shall bear the cost of the journey and of everything else

that is necessary. My worthy brother shall at least not have squandered

his friendship in vain upon an unworthy person."

He whispered an order to one of his servants. The man disappeared

and came back straight away to lay before his master's protege a

moneybag containing fifty shining ounce pieces, and two beautiful

quilted winter coats. Meantime the master of the house had been look‐ 

ing through the calendar.

"The nineteenth is a favorable day for setting out on a journey," he

continued. "My worthy brother should take timely steps to secure a

hired boat for that day. And perhaps, when the year is over, I shall

once more have the honor of basking in the radiance of your presence,

after the wings of your talents have carried you up to giddy heights.

That would indeed be a day of high festival for me."

Yu Tsun was so exhilarated by the wine that he only mumbled a few

banal words of thanks before settling down once more to easy and

loquacious chatting and drinking. Not until far into the night, about

the time of the third drum roll, did the friends take leave of each other.

The next morning Shih Ying remembered that he had also intended

to give his protege letters of introduction to two civil servants whom

he knew in the capital. He therefore sent a servant over to the Temple

of the Gourd to ask Yu Tsun to come over once more to receive these

letters of recommendation. But on returning, the servant reported that

Yu Tsun had set out very early that morning. He had left with one of

the temple bonzes a farewell greeting for his patron and a further mes‐ 

sage to the effect that people of education like himself were in the habit

of considering only the matter in hand and were not influenced by

superstitious directions in the calendar. And that was that, whether

Shih Ying liked it or not.

Light and shadow change swiftly. The first full moon of the New

Year, the time of the Lantern Festival, had come around again unper‐ 

ceived. In the evening Shih Ying had sent a servant to take his little

daughter outside the hall door so that she might enjoy the sight of the

gay lanterns and the merry fireworks the "spirit fires." The servant

had gone right into the throng of the Ten Mile Street. He found so

many fascinating sights and sounds there that he was completely spell‐ 

bound and could not tear himself away. But needing a moment's

privacy, he thoughtlessly left the child in his charge sitting on a stone

parapet in front of a strange house while he disappeared round the

nearest corner. When he came back the little girl was gone. He searched

the streets and lanes for her all night, but in vain. The next morning,

being too much aft aid of punishment to return to his master's house,

he fled from the town and ran back to his native village.

Shih Ying, in desperation, sent his whole household out to search

for the lost child, but without success. Then, mourning fell upon the

house which had formerly been such a happy one. Both parents were

already past fifty, and could scarcely hope to have more children. Their

sighs and lamentations did not cease, either by day or by night, and

soon physicians and soothsayers became daily guests in the house. But

the loss of their child was not to be their only misfortune.

On the fifteenth day of the third month, namely, on All Souls' Day,

a fire broke out in the Temple of the Gourd. The Brother, who was

cooking the sacrificial foods, had carelessly allowed the flames of the

fire to shoot out over the pan and set alight the parchment panes and

wooden frame of the kitchen window. All the buildings round about

had bamboo fences, and wooden walls, so the flames spread rapidly

from the Temple of the Gourd to the neighboring house, and thence

farther and farther from house to house. Soon all the streets around

the temple were one single mass of flames, against which the inhabit‐ 

ants and the town fire brigade strove in vain. The fire raged for a whole

night before burning itself out. Shih Ying's house too had gone down

in ruins and ashes. The inmates had barely been able to escape with

their lives. So what could poor Shih Ying do but bow his knees and

utter short sighs and long ones?

At first he and his wife went to live on their country estate. But they

found life hardly tolerable there, for owing to drought and famine the

whole countryside was overrun with robber bands, which fell upon

the villages like swarms of bees. Soldiers came to drive away the rob‐ 

bers, but they in their turn became a scourge which made country life

highly unpleasant. On account of all this the sorely tried Shih Ying de‐ 

cided to sell his land. He then went with his wife and two maids to live

with his father‐in‐law, old Feng, in the safe town of Ta yu chow. Old

Feng, who was likewise a former landowner, was fairly comfortably off.

All the same he was not exactly overjoyed at seeing his son‐in‐law

coming to seek refuge with him in such a wretched state of want.

Happily, Shih Ying did not come empty‐handed; he brought some cash vith him the proceeds of his landed property. This he handed over

to his father‐in‐law, asking him to buy a little house and a piece of

land for him on the outskirts of the town. Old Feng did this most

willingly, though it must be admitted that half the money disappeared

into his own pocket. With the other half he bought a very rickety old

cottage and a piece of worthless land. Now Shih Ying was somewhat

spoiled by his previous life of pleasant leisure; he much preferred

lingering over books to occupying himself with practical things such

as tillage and harvest work. It was small wonder, then, that such tasks,

carried out so much against his grain, were not blessed with success,

and at the end of two years he was completely destitute. His father‐ 

in‐law was thoroughly dissatisfied with him and blamed him for being

lazy and soft. True, he did not say these things to his face, but he com‐ 

plained of him behind his back to others. Shih Ying, who got to hear

of this indirectly, felt grieved and depressed. The disappointments

and vicissitudes of the past few years had worn him down visibly. He

had become an old man who had nothing more left to hope for.

One day he was taking a leisurely stroll along the street leaning

wearily on his stick, like an old man. Suddenly a wandering Taoist monk of very odd appearance, dressed in a ragged smock and wearing

bast sandals, came limping along beside him. He could hear the monk

murmuring:

"Sweet world‐forsaking! Precious solitude!

Honor and fame: how little worth are these!

The great ones of the world, when all is done,

Are but a mound of earth, with grass thereon.

"Sweet world‐forsaking! Precious solitude!

Riches and gold who would be fain of these?

Our clutching hands seize them, and cannot hold:

One day we must leave all yes, wealth and gold.

"Sweet world‐forsaking! Precious solitude!

Do lovely women, then, ensnare your hearts?

These swear to love one man till death doth part:

He dieth soon another claims that love.

"Sweet world‐forsaking! Precious solitude!

Are children, and their children, your desire?

Loving parental hearts wear out in vain:

The only thanks which children give is pain."

"Your words touch my soul to its very depths, honored Master,"

said Shih Ying with a sigh to his travelling companion. "Will you allow

me to supplement your verses with a few sentences expressing the ex‐ 

perience gained in the Bourse of my own wretched life?"

"Proceed!" cried the disciple of Lao Tzu with friendly encouragement. Thereupon in well‐chosen and skillfully disposed words Shih

Ying improvised a melancholy homily on the splendor of his past life,

the misery of his present situation, and the transitory nature of all

earthly things.

"Splendid! You have put it all in deeply impressive words," said

the monk admiringly, when Shih Ying's outpouring had ended.

"I should like to go along with you," said Shih Ying simply. He took

the heavy knapsack from the monk's shoulders, and buckled it onto his

own. Then, without even going back to his house, he joined the strange

holy man in his casual wandering.

His disappearance formed the subject of conversation for some time

in his quarter of the town. His wife almost died of shock and grief, it

was said. When all inquiries for his whereabouts proved in vain and

the missing man failed to return, she went back to the house of her

parents with her two maids, and from that time on, working day and

night with her needle, she strove to keep up the household for herself

and her aged father.

One day the elder of her maids was standing at the street door buy‐ 

ing yarn from a hawker. Suddenly she heard the yamen outriders as

they came nearer and nearer down the street shouting: "Make way!

Make way!" The new district Mandarin was taking up his office today,

the people told her. Leaning back in the doorway, she watched the

procession pass. It was a stately cortege. In front were postillions on

horseback, then came police and yamen officials in two lines carrying

banners and the insignia of office. In between the lines was the great

official sedan chair with the Mandarin in his scarlet State robe seated in

it. Behind walked more flunkies. The maid gave a start. It seemed to her

that she had seen the handsome face of the man in the scarlet robe

sometime somewhere before.

When the procession had passed by she went into the house again

and had soon forgotten the trifling incident.

Late in the evening of that same day, just as everyone was going to

bed, there was a sudden loud and peremptory knocking at the door of

the Fengs' house. A troop of yamen servants were outside demanding

to be let in.

"The old Governor has sent us," they said in a chorus. "We have a

load to deliver."

Old Feng was as frightened as if a tiger stood in his path. What

new trouble was this, in the name of heaven? If you want to know you

must read what the next chapter has to report.