Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies Part 7

Although the boys were quite different in manner, they were dressed alike and no one could tell which was Li's son. Li questioned the commander about the boys, but he answered, "Recognize your son yourself." Li examined both for a long while. Then, inspired by his natural feelings, he embraced one of them and said, "This is my son!"

"And so it is!" said the commander.

Father and son held one another and wept. All who witnessed the reunion were deeply moved. They raised their cups in congratulation, and when the banquet ended, everyone had drunk to the full.

The next day the commander met with Superintendent Li. "I have already given you your son," said the commander. "How can I keep son and mother apart? I offer you the mother as well." Li's joy knew no bounds. He returned to the capital and took his son to meet his superior, who said, "He is a fine lad," and took the boy to an audience with the emperor himself.

Li's son was enrolled in the emperor's guard and later rose to be an official of the third rank, like his father.

Generally it is fortune that decides whether a man has a son; his own effort cannot make any difference. But this fortune teller was a genius in his work.

-T'ao Tsung-i A Dead Son A man of Wei named Tung Men-wu did not grieve when his son died. "You loved your son as no other father has in the world," said his wife. "Now he has died, but you do not grieve. Why?"

"There was a time," replied Tung Men-wu, "when I had never had a son. I did not grieve then. Now that he is dead, it is the same as when I had no son. What have I to grieve for?"

-Lieh Tzu The Golden Toothpick Mubala the Turk, who had the Chinese name Hsi-ying, was a huge hulk of a man. One day he was dining with his wife. She had speared a tasty morsel of meat with a golden toothpick and was about to place it in her mouth when a visitor came to the door. Hsi-ying went to receive the guest, and his wife, not having time to finish the bite, set it aside in a dish before getting up to prepare tea. When she returned to her place, the golden toothpick was nowhere to be found.

A young serving maid was nearby attending to her duties, and the wife suspected her of taking the toothpick. The mistress questioned the maid long and brutally until the girl, having admitted nothing, finally died of her injuries.

More than a year later a carpenter was called in to repair the roof. As he swept some dirt from the tiles, something fell to the ground and clinked lightly on the stones. It turned out to be the missing golden toothpick, together with a piece of rotted bone. They reasoned that it must have been s.n.a.t.c.hed and carried to the roof by their cat, unnoticed by the maid, who carried the injustice to her grave.

How often things like this happen! So I have written the story down as a reminder for the future.

-T'ao Tsung-i The King's Favorite In ancient times the beautiful woman Mi Tzu-hsia was the favorite of the lord of Wei. Now, according to the law of Wei, anyone who rode in the king's carriage without permission would be punished by amputation of the foot. When Mi Tzu-hsia's mother fell ill, someone brought the news to her in the middle of the night. So she took the king's carriage and went out, and the king only praised her for it. "Such filial devotion!" he said. "For her mother's sake she risked the punishment of amputation!"

Another day she was dallying with the lord of Wei in the fruit garden. She took a peach, which she found so sweet that instead of finis.h.i.+ng it she handed it to the lord to taste. "How she loves me," said the lord of Wei, "forgetting the pleasure of her own taste to share with me!"

But when Mi Tzu-hsia's beauty began to fade, the king's affection cooled. And when she offended the king, he said, "Didn't she once take my carriage without permission? And didn't she once give me a peach that she had already chewed on?"

-Han Fei Tzu The Divided Daughter In A.D. 692, the third year of the reign of the Empress Wu, the scholar Chang Yi took up residence in Hengchou, Hunan, to serve as an official there. He was a simple, quiet man with few close friends. He had fathered two daughters (no son), of which the elder had died early. The younger, Ch'ien Niang, was a beauty beyond compare.

Now, Chang Yi had a nephew named w.a.n.g Chou, who was clever and handsome. Chang Yi always thought of the boy as having a promising future, and he would say, "When the time comes, Ch'ien Niang should be his wife."

After w.a.n.g Chou and Ch'ien Niang reached maturity, they often pictured one another in their secret dreams. But neither of the families knew anything about it, and some time later when an eligible member of Chang Yi's staff sought Ch'ien Niang's hand, the father said yes.

The news made Ch'ien Niang terribly sad, and w.a.n.g Chou was bitterly disappointed. On the pretext that he was to be transferred, he requested permission to go away to the capital. Nothing could dissuade him, and so he was sent off with many gifts.

Wounded by sorrow, w.a.n.g Chou bid a final farewell and boarded the boat. By sunset he had gone several miles into the surrounding hills. That night he was lying awake when suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps along the sh.o.r.e. In moments the pattering reached the boat, and w.a.n.g Chou discovered that it was Ch'ien Niang, who had been running barefoot.

w.a.n.g Chou nearly went mad with delight and amazement. Gripping her hands, he asked where she had come from. She said tearfully, "Your depth of feeling moved us both in our dreams. Now they want to deprive me of my free will. I know your love will never change, and I would give up my life to repay you, so I ran away."

This was more than w.a.n.g Chou had ever expected. He could not control his excitement. He hid Ch'ien Niang in the boat, and they fled at once, pressing the journey day and night. A few months later they reached Szechwan in the far west.

Five years pa.s.sed. Ch'ien Niang bore two sons. She exchanged no letters with her parents, but she thought of them incessantly. One day she said in tears to w.a.n.g Chou, "Time was when I could not desert you, so I set aside a great duty to run away to you. Now it has been five years. I am cut off from my parents' love and kindness. How am I to hold up my head in this wide world?"

w.a.n.g Chou took pity on her and said, "Let's go home; no sense in grieving like this." And so they returned together to Hengchou. When they arrived, w.a.n.g Chou went alone first to the house of Chang Yi to confess the whole affair. But Chang Yi said, "What kind of crazy talk is this? My daughter has been lying ill in her room for many years."

"But she's in my boat right now," said w.a.n.g Chou.

Amazed, Chang Yi sent someone to see if it were true. Indeed Ch'ien Niang was there, with joy on her face and spirit in her expression. The astonished servant rushed back to tell Chang Yi.

When the sick girl in the chamber heard the news, she rose and joyfully put on her jewelry, powdered her face, and dressed in her finest clothes. Then, smiling but not speaking, she went out to welcome the woman from the boat. As they met their two bodies stepped into each other and became one, fitting together perfectly. Yet there was a double suit of clothes on the single body.

The family kept the entire affair secret in the belief that it was abnormal. Only a few relatives learned the facts. Husband and wife died forty years later, and their two sons both attained the second-highest official degree and rose to be deputy commandants.

I often heard this story when I was young. There are many different versions, and some people say it is not true. But more than eighty years after the events, I chanced to meet a magistrate of Lai Wu. His father was cousin to Chang Yi, and since this magistrate's account is the fullest I know, I have put it down on paper.

-Ch'en Hsuan-yu GHOSTS AND SOULS.

The Scholar's Concubine In Paoting there was a scholar who had bought himself a literary degree and was now ready to buy a position as county magistrate. But no sooner had he packed his baggage to go to the capital for this purpose than he fell ill and could not get up for over a month. One day an unexpected caller was announced, and the sick man felt such a strange s.h.i.+ver of antic.i.p.ation that he forgot his ailment and rushed to greet the guest. His visitor was elaborately dressed and appeared to be a man of standing. He entered making three salutations and, when asked where he had come from, replied, "I am Kung-sun Hsia, a retainer of the eleventh imperial prince. I heard that you were getting your gear ready to go to try for a position as county magistrate. If such is your intention, perhaps you would find a governor's post even more attractive?"

Not daring to be forward, the scholar declined, though he left the subject open by adding, "My sum is small, and I cannot indulge my hopes." The visitor offered to try to obtain the position if the scholar would put up half the sum and agree to pay the remainder from his profits in office. Delighted, the scholar asked the guest to explain his scheme.

"The governor-general and the governor are my closest friends," the visitor said. "For the time being, five thousand strings of cash should ensure their support. At the moment there is a vacancy in Chenting. It would be worth making a serious bid for that post."

The scholar protested that since the office was in his home province, accepting it would violate the dynasty's rule against a man's serving in his native district. But the visitor laughed cynically and said, "Don't be so pedantic. As long as you have the cash at hand, you can get across the barriers." The scholar remained hesitant, however, for the entire scheme sounded farfetched. Then the visitor said, "There's no need for you to have doubts. Let me tell you the whole truth: This is a vacancy in the office of the city G.o.d. Your mortal hours are at an end, and you have already been entered into the registry of the dead. But if you will utilize the means available, you may still attain high station in the world of the shades." With that the visitor rose and bid the man goodbye. "Think it over for now. I shall meet with you again in three days." Then he mounted his horse and left.

Suddenly the scholar opened his eyes from what had appeared to his attendants to be a deep sleep. He said his last farewell to his wife and sons and ordered them to bring out his h.o.a.rd of cash to buy ten thousand paper ingots. This depleted the entire county's supply. The ingots were piled up and mixed with paper figures of horses and attendants. Then, according to custom, they were burned day and night so that they would accrue to their owner's account in the world beyond. The final heap of ashes practically formed a mountain.

As expected, the visitor reappeared on the third day. The scholar produced his payment, and the visitor led him to an administrative office where a high official was seated in a great hall. The scholar prostrated himself. The official merely glanced at his name and, with a warning to be "honest and cautious," approved him. Next this dignitary took a certificate, summoned the scholar to the bench, and handed it to him. The scholar kowtowed, and the thing was done.

Afterwards it occurred to the scholar that as a holder of the lowest literary degree he lacked prestige, and that he needed the pomp and splendor of carriage and apparel to command the respect of his subordinates. So he purchased a carriage and horses and sent an attendant-ghost in a gorgeous carriage to fetch his favorite concubine.

When all was ready Chenting's official insignia and regalia arrived, together with an entourage that stretched half a mile along the road-a most satisfying display. Suddenly the heralds' announcing gong fell silent and their banners toppled. Between panic and confusion the scholar saw the hors.e.m.e.n dismount and to a man prostrate themselves on the road. The men shrank to the height of a foot, the horses to the size of wildcats! The scholar's driver cried out in alarm, "The Divine Lord Kuan has arrived!"

The scholar was terrified. He climbed down from his carriage and pressed himself to the ground with the others. In the distance he saw the great general of ancient times, celebrated for his fierce justice. The Divine Lord was accompanied by four or five hors.e.m.e.n, their reins loosely in hand. With his whiskers surrounding his jaws, Lord Kuan was quite unlike the world's common images of him. But his spiritual presence was overwhelming and ferocious, and his eyes were so wide-set that they seemed almost to touch his ears. From horseback he said, "What official is this?"

"Governor of Chenting," came the reply.

"For this piddling position," said Lord Kuan, "is such a display really needed?"

The scholar s.h.i.+vered, his body hairs standing on end. All at once he watched his own body contract until he became small as a boy of six or seven. Lord Kuan commanded him to arise and walk behind his horse. A temple stood at the roadside. Lord Kuan went in, faced southward in the direction of sovereignty, and ordered brush and paper so that the scholar could write down his name and native place. The new governor wrote what was asked and submitted the paper. Lord Kuan glanced at it and said in great anger, "These letters are miswritten and misshapen. The fellow is no more than a speculator, a shark loose in the official hierarchy. How could he govern the people?"

Lord Kuan then sent for the scholar's record of personal conduct. Someone at the side kneeled and presented a statement to Lord Kuan. The Divine Lord's face grew darker and fiercer than ever. Then Lord Kuan said harshly, "This cannot be allowed. On the other hand, the crime of buying office is yet smaller than the crime of selling it!" Thereupon an arresting officer in golden armor was seen leaving with ropes and collar.

Then two attendants took hold of the scholar, pulled off his official's cap and robes, and applied fifty strokes of the rod. When they expelled him through the gates, the flesh was practically torn from his backside.

The scholar peered in all directions, but there was no sign of his horse and carriage. He could not walk for pain and lay down on the gra.s.s to rest. When he raised his head and looked around, he saw that he was not too far from home. Luckily his body was light as a leaf, and within a day and a night he reached his house. The truth of it all dawned on him as he awoke from the dream and lay moaning on his bed.

The members of the family gathered to question him, but all the scholar told them was that his b.u.t.tocks were sore. It seems he had lost consciousness and was virtually a dead man for seven days. Looking at the a.s.sembled household, the scholar said, "Why is my beloved Ah Lien not here?" For Ah Lien was his favorite concubine.

They told him that Ah Lien had been sitting and chatting the previous night when she suddenly said, "He has become governor of Chenting and has sent a messenger to receive me." Whereupon she went into her room, made herself up, and died.

The scholar pounded his chest in bitter remorse. Hoping that she could be revived, he ordered the corpse held and not buried. But after several days there was no sign of life, and they put her in the tomb. The scholar's illness gradually pa.s.sed, but the bruises on his backside were so severe that they took six months to heal.

Time and again the scholar said to himself, "The sum I had saved to purchase office is gone, and wasted at that, and I have been the victim of punishment by the forces below. Still, I could endure it. But not to know where my beloved Ah Lien has been taken is too much to bear in the cold, quiet night."

-P'u Sung-ling Three Former Lives The scholar Liu, who won his advanced degree the same year as my elder brother, was able to recall events from his previous lives and often described them in great detail. In his first lifetime he was a member of the n.o.bility and as corrupt as any of them. He died at the age of sixty-two and was received by the king of the dead. The king treated him as a village elder, granting him a seat and offering him tea. He noted that the tea in the king's drinking cup was clear and pure, while the tea in his own was thick and sticky. "This must be what I have to drink to be reborn with no memory of my past life," he thought. When the king was momentarily distracted, he threw the contents of his cup around the corner of the table and pretended that he had drunk the tea.

After a while the king looked up Mr. Liu's record of misdeeds in life and angrily ordered a group of ghosts to remove him. The king punished him by reincarnation as a horse, and some fierce ghosts marched him off. He found himself before a house with a threshold too high for him to cross. He balked, but the ghosts lashed him. In great pain he stumbled forward. Then he was in a stable and heard a voice saying, "The black mare has given birth to a colt. A male!" He understood the words but could not speak. Too hungry to do anything else, he went to the mare and suckled.

Four or five years went by, and his body grew strong and tall. He had a terrible fear of the whip and would shy whenever he saw it. The master always protected his body with a saddle pad and held the reins loosely, sparing him discomfort, but the groom and the servants rode him without a pad and dug their heels into his flesh so that the pain pierced him. Out of sheer indignation he refused food for three days and died.

When he came to the nether world, the king of the dead verified that his term of punishment had not expired and took him to task for evading it. The king had his hide peeled off and sent him back into the world as a dog. He was too dejected to move until the horde of ghosts lashed him savagely. In severe pain he scurried into the wilderness, thinking he would prefer death. He jumped a precipice, fell upside down, and could not get up. When he came to consciousness, he was in a dog hole. A b.i.t.c.h was licking him with loving care, and he realized that he had been born again into the mortal world.

As he grew into a young dog, excrement and urine seemed fragrant to him, but he knew that they were filthy and made up his mind not to eat any. He spent a year as a dog in a state of constant fury, wanting only to die. Yet he was afraid to escape this life. Since the master fed him well and showed no wish to slaughter him for food, he purposely bit him in the leg, tearing the flesh; and the master clubbed him to death.

This rash deed angered the king of the dead, and he ordered Mr. Liu whipped with hundreds of strokes. Then he turned him into a snake and confined him to a secluded room so dark that he never saw the sky. Frustrated, Mr. Liu scaled a wall and escaped through a hole. He looked at himself and found that he was on his belly in the lush gra.s.s-strange but true, a snake!

He swore that he would harm no living thing but would satisfy his hunger with fruits and vegetables. For more than a year he lived in this way, pining to kill himself but understanding that it would be unwise, just as it would be unwise for him to injure someone and get himself killed. He could not find a suitable way to die. One day as he was lying in the gra.s.s, he heard a carriage coming and rushed into the road in front of it. The wheels crushed him and cut him in two.

His speedy return amazed the king of the dead. The snake lay prostrate and told his story. The king, because the creature had been innocent when killed, forgave him and judged that he had fulfilled his sentence and could be reborn human. And so he became the scholar Liu who begins our story.

When Mr. Liu was born, he could speak. He could recite literary works, essays, and histories after only one reading, and soon he earned his advanced degree. Yet he was always urging people to put a thick pad under their horse's saddle, for a heel dug into the flank is worse punishment for a horse than the whip.

The Recorder of Things Strange says: Creatures with fur or horns include princes and lords. This is so, just as there are things furred or horned among princes and lords. For the lowly to do good deeds is like planting a tree to produce flowers. For the n.o.ble to do good deeds is like nouris.h.i.+ng a tree that has already blossomed. What is planted should grow larger; what is nourished should last long. Otherwise, one hauls the salt wagon and suffers the fetters as a horse, or feeds on filth only to be cut up and cooked as a dog, or, clad in scales, dies in the claws of crane or stork as a snake.

-P'u Sung-ling The Monk from Everclear Having led a life of lofty purity, a certain monk from Everclear in Shantung province was still hale at the age of eighty. But one day he fell over and did not rise. Although the monks of the temple rushed to his aid, he had already pa.s.sed into the world beyond.

The monk himself, unaware that he was dead, floated away with his soul intact until he reached the faraway borders of Honan province. In Honan at that moment, a young man of the upper cla.s.ses was leading a team of hors.e.m.e.n who were using hawks to hunt for hares. His horse bolted, and the young man fell off and died. By chance his soul encountered that of the old monk, and the two joined as one.

After a while the young man gradually recovered consciousness. His servants surrounded him solicitously as he opened his eyes and asked, "How did I get here?" They helped him home, where an a.s.sembly of beautiful women greeted him with expressions of concern. "I am a monk!" he cried. "What am I doing here?" The members of the household thought he had lost his mind and earnestly tried to make him understand that he had been in an accident. The monk made no further attempt to explain himself; he simply shut his eyes and would not speak again.

They fed him husked rice, which he took; but he refused both wine and meat. At night he slept alone and would not accept the services of wife or concubine. After a few days he thought of going for a short walk. Everyone was delighted. He stepped out, but when he paused for a moment, a stream of attendants approached him with financial accounts to check over. He refused to deal with these matters, claiming that he was still too weak from his illness. All he said was, "In Shantung there is an Everclear county. Do you know of it?" The attendants replied that they did, and he said, "I feel depressed and at a loss for anything to do. It would please me to go there for a visit; let's get ready now." His servants said that he had just recovered and was not well enough for a long trip, but he would not listen.

The next day he set out. When he arrived in Everclear, the place was as he remembered it. Without asking the way he went directly to the monastery, and the disciples greeted their distinguished guest with deference. "Where has your old monk gone to?" he asked. They replied, "Our master has gone the way of all things." The visitor asked where the grave was, and the puzzled disciples led him to a solitary three-foot mound not yet overgrown with wild gra.s.s.

Soon the young man mounted his horse for the return journey. "Your master was a monk of discipline, and the order that he established here should not be disturbed," he told them. The monks nodded continuously as he left.

Back in his household, the young man's mind went dead as ash. He sat in meditation like a withered tree, refusing to attend to any family responsibilities. And after several months he walked out of the house and disappeared.

He returned to the old monastery and said to the disciples, "I am none other than your master." Thinking him demented, the monks looked at one another and laughed. But when he told them the circ.u.mstances of his return to life, and when he spoke of events during the old monk's lifetime, everything tallied. The monks believed him and installed him in his former quarters, serving him as they always had.

The young man's family discovered where he was and often sent horse and carriage to the monastery with an earnest appeal for him to come home. He paid no attention to them. After a year his wife sent his steward to the monastery with many gifts, but he refused all the gold and silk and accepted only a single cloth robe. Friends who came to the district called on him to pay their respects and found him reticent and wise for his years. Though he was only thirty, he could vividly describe the events of eight decades.

The Recorder of Things Strange says: When a man dies, his spirit disperses. If a spirit should travel a thousand leagues and still remain whole, it is because that soul's nature is unalterable. It is not astonis.h.i.+ng that such a strong-minded monk should come back to life; it is more surprising that on entering a state of magnificent luxury, he was still able to sever his ties and turn from the world. How different from those ordinary men who fall in the twinkling of an eye and stain their moral record so deeply that they'd be better off dead!

-P'u Sung-ling The Monk's Sins When a man named Chang died suddenly, an underworld officer took him down to see the king of the dead. The king checked the records and was angry to learn that the officer had made a false arrest. He ordered the ghost to take Chang back to the living.

When Chang was released, he persuaded the ghost to let him see the prisons of h.e.l.l. The ghost led him through the Nine Abysses, the Hill of Knives, and the Sword Trees, pointing out each thing of note. Toward the end of the tour they came to a place where a monk was hanging head down, legs bound and laced with ropes. The monk howled with pain, as if he were about to die. As he drew closer Chang saw that it was his own elder brother. Horrified and anguished, Chang asked the ghost what crimes the monk was suffering for.

"This one was a Buddhist monk," said the ghost. "He was taking money from all sides to pay for women and gambling. That's why we've punished him. We won't let him down till he repents."

Then Chang came back to life and began to wonder if his brother had already died. To find out, he hurried to his brother's home in the Temple of Blessings. He entered the gates and heard howls of pain. In one of the rooms he found his brother, whose legs, covered with welts, were propped against a wall and oozing blood and pus. Chang asked his brother why he kept his legs in that position.

"For relief," replied the monk. "Otherwise the pain goes right through me." Then Chang told him what he had seen in the world of the dead. The monk was terrified and not only abandoned his major vices but even forswore meat and wine. He recited sutras and mantras with great reverence. Within two weeks he was well again and thereafter became a model of self-discipline.

The Recorder of Things Strange says: h.e.l.l, or the dungeons of the dead, is a myth, never verified. At least, men of vicious character justify themselves by saying that there is no punishment for our misdeeds. What they fail to understand is that the disasters which strike us in our own daylight world are the punishment of the Unseen.

-P'u Sung-ling The Truth About Ghosts Ch'en Tsai-heng of my city was sixty years old, a gentle, genial, and humorous man. He was walking at day's end on the outskirts of the city when he saw two men carrying a fire in a lantern. He tried to light his pipe from the fire but could not manage it. One of the men said to him, "Have you pa.s.sed your first 'post mortem' week yet?" Amazed, Ch'en replied simply, "Not yet."

"That explains it," the man said. "Your 'sun-time spirits' are not yet used up, so the 'shade-time' fire won't give you a light."

Realizing that he was speaking with the dead, Ch'en pretended to be one also. "The world claims that men fear ghosts; is that true?" he asked them.

"Not at all," replied one of the ghosts. "The truth is that ghosts fear men."

"What is it about men that could frighten a ghost?" asked Ch'en.

"Saliva."

At once Ch'en took a deep breath and spat at them. The two ghosts retreated three paces. Glaring, they said angrily, "Then you are not a ghost!"

Ch'en laughed. "In fact, not to deceive you, I am a man who is near to a ghost-near enough to spit on you." This he did again, and each ghost contracted to half its former size. He spat a third time and they vanished.

-Huang Chun-tsai Sung Ting-po Catches a Ghost When Sung Ting-po of Nanyang was walking one night, he ran across a dead soul. "Who are you?" he asked.

"A ghost," it replied, and added, "Who are you?"

"A ghost, too," said Sung Ting-po to mislead it.

"Where are you headed?" asked the ghost.

"Yuan market town."

"So am I."

And so they proceeded. After several miles the ghost said, "We have quite a way to go. How about taking turns carrying each other?"

"Fine," answered Sung Ting-po.

To begin with, the ghost carried Sung Ting-po on his shoulders for several miles. "You are so heavy, good friend," the ghost commented, "that I'm wondering if you really are a ghost."

"I'm a new ghost," replied Sung Ting-po, "so my body is still heavy." And Sung Ting-po took his turn carrying the ghost, which was practically weightless. They went on this way exchanging places a number of times.

"I'm a new ghost," Sung Ting-po remarked again, "so I'm not familiar with what ghosts fear and avoid."

"Human saliva," replied the ghost. And the two continued on their way. Soon they came to a stream that they had to cross, and Sung Ting-po asked the ghost to go first. It waded in and made no sound. But when Sung Ting-po followed, his body swished through the water, and the ghost asked, "How come you're making that racket?"

"It's just that the newly dead aren't used to crossing water. Don't hold it against me."

The two were approaching their destination, and it was Sung Ting-po's turn to carry the ghost. He set it upon his shoulders and then suddenly tightened his grip. The ghost cried, "Hey! Hey!" as it struggled to get down. But Sung Ting-po held fast. He marched straight into the Yuan market, and there he set it down. As the ghost touched the ground it turned into a sheep, which Sung put up for sale. Fearing that it might change itself again, he spat on it. He got 1,500 coppers for the sheep and went on his way.

This is a true story: a chronicle of the time says, "Sung Ting-po sold a ghost for 1,500 coppers."

-Kan Pao The Man Who Couldn't Catch a Ghost My father heard this story from his grandfather.

In the city of Ching there was a man named Ch'iang San-mang. He was bold and direct, with no subtlety to him. One day he heard a man tell how Sung Ting-po had caught a ghost, and how the ghost had turned itself into a sheep to escape, and how Sung Ting-po had sold it and spat on it to prevent it from changing again.