Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, page 22
‘They may not be human like us,’ protested Lian, ‘but they have true feelings. And they’re so quick-witted and so beautiful. If I were truly married to wives such as them, then I’d be able to hold my head up and I’d no longer be a laughing stock.’
His father said nothing but smiled quizzically at his son.
Lian withdrew to his own quarters. In the days that followed he was unbearably frustrated at not having any opportunity to continue testing out his newly discovered virtuosity. Eventually, unable to contain himself any longer, he formed a secret liaison with one of the maids. One thing led to another, and soon they were indulging in full-blown intercourse in broad daylight. Lian was actually hoping in this way to bring his newfound skills to the attention of his parents. One day, a junior maid spied on the two of them while they were at it, and hurried off to inform her mistress. Mrs Fu could not believe her ears and insisted on going to have a peep herself. She was utterly amazed by what she saw, and summoned the maid involved to verify personally her son's newly acquired credentials. She was absolutely delighted by the turn of events, and let it be known to all and sundry that her son was now a properly qualified man and that families of suitable station might present proposals of marriage in the normal way. But Lian confided to his mother that he would marry none but the Hua girls, Tertia and Clever.
‘There are so many beautiful women in this world,’ complained his mother. ‘Why pick a ghost and a fox?’
‘If it were not for Auntie Hua, I still wouldn’t know what it means to be a man,’ replied Lian. ‘If I break my word now, I’ll only be bringing bad luck on myself.’
In the end his father agreed to go along with the idea, and they sent a servant and a matchmaker to discuss the marriage with Auntie Hua. The two of them took a carriage and made their way a couple of miles east of the town, searching for the ruins of the Li family garden. In a bamboo grove, they saw a thread of smoke rising into the sky from a broken-down cottage. The old crone of a matchmaker stepped down from her carriage and went straight to the door, where she found Auntie Hua and her daughter sweeping and cleaning, as if they were expecting a visitor. The matchmaker introduced herself and explained her mission, and when she saw Tertia close to, gave a little cry of delighted surprise.
‘So this is your daughter, the young master's wife-to-be! What a lovely young lady, to be sure! No wonder the young master dreams about her day and night!’
She asked about Clever, and Auntie Hua heaved a sigh. ‘You must mean my foster-daughter. I’m sad to say that three days ago she suddenly fell ill and died.’
She served the old lady and her companion food and wine.
On her return, the matchmaker conveyed to Lian's parents her favourable impressions of Tertia, which pleased them greatly. Lian was heartbroken to learn the news of Clever's death.
On the day of the wedding, he questioned Auntie Hua himself, and she told him that Clever had been reborn somewhere far away in the North. Lian shed many tears of grief. He took Tertia home with him as his wife, but could never forget his love for Clever. If ever anyone came to Canton from Qiongzhou, he always asked if there was any news of her. One such traveller told him that the sound of a ghost weeping had been heard at the tomb near Qin-nü Village. Lian found this strange. When he spoke to Tertia about it, she heaved a great sigh. At length she began to speak, tears coursing down her cheeks. ‘I have done Clever a great wrong!’
Lian asked her what she meant by this.
‘When mother and I came here,’ she replied, ‘we didn’t tell Clever we were coming. The weeping ghost near the tomb must be her. I would have told you the truth, but was afraid of revealing my mother's wrongdoing.’
When Lian learned that the ghost of Clever was still haunting the old tomb, he cast aside his sorrow, called for a carriage and, travelling through the night, hastened to the place. He knocked at the wooden entrance to the tomb.
‘Clever!’ he cried. ‘Clever! It's me!’
Suddenly from within appeared a young woman with a baby in her arms. She looked up with a sad little cry and gazed at Lian with an expression of injured grief. He wept to see her thus, and, fondling the baby she held, he asked her whose child it was.
‘This is the seed you left in my womb. He was born three months ago.’
Lian sighed. ‘I should never have listened to Auntie Hua's words. You and the child must have suffered cruelly, abandoned here in your grave-home. I have done you wrong.’
He took them both back with him, and went in to show his mother the baby boy. She was delighted to see what a handsome, sturdy, human-looking sort of child it was – not at all the half-ghost she would have expected.
Despite everything that had happened, the two girls got along very well together and were both devoted to Lian's parents.
Some time afterwards, Lian's father fell ill. When the doctor was about to be summoned, Clever said, ‘My father-in-law will not survive this illness. His soul has already left his body.’
They prepared his last things, and sure enough in a little while he died.
When Lian's son grew up, he greatly resembled his father. He was highly intelligent and passed his examinations at the age of fourteen.
Secretary Gao Zixia heard this story when he was visiting Canton. He could not remember the names of the places concerned, nor the outcome of the story.
58
VOCAL VIRTUOSITY
A woman, aged twenty-four or twenty-five, once arrived in the village with her medicine bag and set herself up as a physician. Patients wishing to consult her were informed that she could not make out a prescription herself but would have to wait till evening in order to communicate with the spirits. In the evening, she cleared out her little room and shut herself up inside it, while her patients waited outside, clustered around the door and window, trying their hardest to eavesdrop on what was going on inside, whispering among themselves and doing their best not to cough. It was eerily still and quiet both inside and outside the room.
Halfway through the first watch of the night, they heard the swishing of a door-curtain and the woman's voice inside, saying, ‘Is that you, Ninth Aunt?’
‘It is,’ came another woman's voice.
‘Has Winter Plum come with you?’
‘I have,’ answered yet another woman's voice, which sounded like that of a young maidservant.
The three women chattered on at great length, then the curtain hooks could be heard to move again.
‘Sixth Aunt is here!’ said one of the women.
‘Has Spring Plum come and brought the young master?’ cried a babble of voices all at once.
‘He's been such a naughty boy!’ This was yet another woman's voice. ‘He's been screaming his head off and refusing to go to sleep! He had to come with his mother. I’d swear he weighs a hundred catties. I’m worn out!’
This was followed by a further exchange of greetings, Ninth
Caption
Her patients waited outside trying to eavesdrop.
Aunt asking for news, Sixth Aunt chattering politely, the two maids grumbling, the child's happy laughter, the cat miaowing, all jumbled together. Then the voice of the young woman-physician herself could be heard, laughing as she said, ‘What a sweet little boy, to bring the kitten all the way here!’
The voices faded away. Then the blind swished again, and there was a renewed hubbub.
‘Why are you so late, Fourth Aunt?’
This time a young, dainty, lady's voice (evidently that of a third maid) replied, ‘It was such a long way – hundreds of miles – Auntie and I hurried as best we could, but she's such a slow walker.’
There followed further desultory conversation, the sound of people moving chairs around and calling for more to sit on, voices of many kinds mingling in the general commotion that filled the room. After the length of time that it might have taken to eat a meal, quiet returned and the woman-physician could be heard asking for advice about a patient's illness. Ninth Aunt said she needed ginseng, Sixth Aunt recommended yellow vetch, Fourth Aunt atractylis root. After lengthy discussion, Ninth Aunt called for a brush and inkstone, and presently came the rustling sound of paper being folded and the tinkling sound of the brass brush-cap being pulled off and thrown on the table. This was followed by the grating sound of the inkstick being rubbed on the stone, and the click as the writing brush was placed back on the table. Then finally came the crunching sound as the herbs listed in the prescription were measured out and wrapped.
Presently the woman pushed aside the door-curtain and came out, calling for the patient to come forward and receive his written prescription and the herbs. As she turned back into the room they heard the three aunts making their farewells, the three maids, the little boy babbling, the cat miaowing – all at one and the same time. Ninth Aunt's voice was clear and piercing; Sixth Aunt's slow and coarse; Fourth Aunt's soft and enchanting. Each of the maidservants spoke with a different timbre too, and each voice could be clearly distinguished from the others. The amazed crowd outside were convinced that these were truly spirits. But it must be recorded that notwithstanding this elaborate rigmarole, the medicine prescribed had little beneficial effect.
This is what is known as ‘vocal virtuosity’. It was no more than a ruse used by the young woman to sell her services as a physician. But it was an extraordinary performance all the same!
Years ago, Wáng Xinyi told me that once, when he was in the capital and walking through the market, he heard the sound of a stringed instrument and a voice singing. The performance had attracted a large crowd. He went closer and observed a young man singing a song in long, drawn-out phrases. There was no musical instrument to be seen. He was simply rubbing his cheek with his finger as he sang, producing a sound just like that of a stringed instrument. This was another variation of vocal virtuosity.
59
FOX AS PROPHET
A certain Mr Li possessed a secondary residence in Wei County. One day, an old man appeared and offered to rent it, proposing an annual rental of fifty taels, to which Li agreed. The man left and nothing more was heard of him for some time, whereupon Li gave instructions to his servants to let the place to someone else. The very next day, the old man arrived and said to Li, ‘I thought we already had an agreement that I would lease your house. Why have you let it to somebody else?’
Li explained the doubts occasioned by the old man's long absence.
‘I was proposing a lengthy stay,’ explained the old man, ‘so I was obliged to consult the almanac for a propitious day on which to commence it, and this delayed me for ten days.’ He then handed over a full year's rent. ‘Even if the house stays empty for a whole year, do not ask me any questions about it.’
As he was leaving, Li asked him when he would be returning and the old man named the day. Several days after that date, when there was still no sign of him, Li went to inspect his villa and found the double doors bolted from the inside. Astonished to see smoke rising from a chimney and to hear voices coming from within, he sent in his visiting card, whereupon the old man came hurrying out and welcomed him very civilly, smiling and chattering in a most affable manner. When Li returned home, he sent one of his servants with presents for the old man, who gave the servant a most generous tip.
A few days later, Li gave a banquet for the old man and entertained him with great warmth and genuine pleasure. He asked him where he hailed from originally, and when the man gave the western province of Shaanxi as his native place, Li expressed some surprise at its remoteness from his present lodgings.
‘This region of yours,’ replied the old man, ‘is a peaceful and harmonious one. My own province is not a good place to settle at present. Great disturbances will break out there.’
They were living in a time of great general calm and tranquillity, but Li did not inquire any further into the old man's meaning.
The very next day, the old man sent his card, inviting his landlord to a return banquet. Li was greatly astonished by the excellent food and lavish entertainment and wondered aloud if his lodger was perhaps some important official living incognito. The old man replied that, since they were now friends, he could tell him the truth: he was a fox-spirit in human form. Li was flabbergasted by this revelation.
He mentioned it to an acquaintance of his, and the local gentry soon came to know about his extraordinary lodger, which resulted in a constant flow of visitors at the old man's door, all of whom he received with the utmost civility. Soon even the local Prefect became a regular visitor. The one person who was not granted admission, however, was the local County Magistrate. The old man always fobbed him off with some excuse or other. The Magistrate even tried asking Li to plead on his behalf, but to no avail. When Li eventually asked the old man what his reasons were, the old man drew closer to him and whispered, ‘You do not know this, but that Magistrate of yours was a mule in a previous life. He may seem a very distinguished gentleman, but really he is a person of shameless greed. I may not be human myself, but I consider it beneath my dignity to associate with the likes of him.’
Li made up some story to placate the Magistrate – that the old man was too much in awe of him to receive him – and the Magistrate believed him and ceased his entreaties.
Caption
The old man drew closer to him and whispered.
This all happened in the eleventh year of the reign of the Kangxi Emperor. The disastrous uprising of Wang Fuchen broke out shortly after this date in Shaanxi. The prophetic powers of foxes are to be believed.
60
THIS TRANSFORMATION
A certain monk (no one ever knew where he was originally from) lived in Ji’nan, and went every day to Hibiscus Street and Bright Lake, the entertainment quarter in the north-west part of the city. There, barefoot and wearing a tattered, patched cassock, he would frequent the various restaurants and teahouses, chanting sutras and begging for alms wherever he went. He refused offerings of any kind, however – wine, food, money or grain – and when asked what it was he had need of, would give no reply. He was never seen to eat or drink anything.
‘Reverend Master,’ he was once politely advised, ‘since you eat no meat and drink no wine, would it not be better to beg for alms in some lonely lane in a mountain village, rather than come here every day and endure the stench and clamour of the city?’
The monk continued his chanting unperturbed, his hands clasped, his long eyelashes motionless, as though he had heard nothing. A little later, the same advice was proffered again. This time the monk glared at his interlocutor.
‘This,’ he boomed, ‘is the transformation I am seeking.’
He continued chanting and eventually went on his way. The man followed him, intent on knowing what ‘this transformation’ could be, and why the monk was so set upon it. To his questioning the monk made no reply, but continued walking. When the man persisted, he bellowed again, ‘You can know nothing! This is my transformation; this is what I am seeking.’
Several days later, the monk was seen outside the southern walls of the city, lying curled up beside the road, stiff as a corpse. He remained there motionless for three days. The local people, afraid that he would starve to death and that they would be held responsible, urged him to move on, promising him whatever food or money he needed. The monk said nothing and refused even to open his eyes, whereupon they began to shake him and berate him. The monk became angrier and angrier, until finally, producing a little knife from within his cassock, he slit open his stomach. He then reached in with one hand, pulled out his own innards and proceeded to lay them out on the roadside. Then he expired.
The locals were aghast. They informed the Prefect, and gave the corpse a hasty burial. Some time later, a dog dug up the shallow grave and exposed the prayer mat in which the monk had been wrapped when they buried him. It sounded hollow underfoot, and when they examined it more closely they found it still as tightly sealed as it had been at the burial. Inside, it was now as empty as a cocoon.
Caption
The monk slit open his stomach.
61
FOX CONTROL
A certain Academician was possessed by a fox-spirit, fell ill and began to waste away. All imaginable charms and prayers were resorted to, but to no avail. He begged for leave to return home, in the hope that he might thereby somehow escape the evil influence that was afflicting him. But the fox followed him on his journey. He now lived in mortal fear and knew not what to do.
One day he halted at Zhuo County, and there in the street he encountered a travelling quack who claimed to be able to subdue foxes. The Academician engaged his services, and the quack gave him a remedy, which was in point of fact a potent aphrodisiac. He urged him to swallow the medicine and then to have intercourse with the fox-spirit. He would be an invincible lover.
He followed the doctor's instructions. The fox-spirit sought to withdraw from his embrace, pleading with him to stop, but he ignored her entreaties and continued making love to her more fiercely than ever. She writhed and wriggled and struggled to escape, but he would not let her go. And then finally she fell silent. When he looked, he saw the body of a dead fox lying in his bed.
*
There was once a young gentleman of my home district who fancied himself greatly as a lover. He thought himself the equal of the legendary Lao Ai, whose enormous penis had given such satisfaction to the Empress Dowager of Qin. This gentleman claimed that he himself had never once been satisfied by any woman.
Caption
The quack gave him a remedy.
One night he was alone at an inn. It was an isolated building, and there were no neighbours. Suddenly a girl came hurrying into his room, through the closed door. He knew she must be a fox-spirit, and at once set about seducing her, stripping her naked and without further ado plunging his member straight in her up to the hilt. She felt a searing pain and screamed out loud, fleeing from the room and shooting into the night like a hawk loosed from the hand of a falconer.
