Lotus Fragrance

I n Yizhou there was a scholar named Sang, called Ziming, orphaned young, who kept lodgings at Honghua Wharf. He was a quiet, self-contained man. Twice a day he went next door for his meals; the rest of the time he simply sat. His neighbor teased him once. "Living alone like this, aren't you afraid of ghosts and foxes?" Sang laughed. "What has a grown man to fear from ghosts and foxes? If a male comes, I have a good sword. If it's a female, I'll open the door and let her in." In Yizhou there was a man named Sang, called Ziming, orphaned in childhood, who lodged at Honghua Wharf. Sang was by nature still and reserved, content in himself. Twice a day he went out to eat at the eastern neighbor's; the rest of the time he merely sat. The neighbor's son joked, "Living alone, aren't you afraid of ghosts and foxes?" He answered laughing, "What does a man fear from ghosts and foxes? If a male comes, I have a sharp sword. If a female, I'll open the door and let her in."

The neighbor took it for a dare. He and some friends propped a ladder against the wall and sent a courtesan over it after dark to knock at the study door. Sang put his eye to the crack and asked who was there. A ghost, she said. His teeth rattled so hard she could hear them, and after a while she gave up and climbed back over. In the morning the neighbor came around, and Sang, still shaken, described the visitation and said he thought he might go home. The neighbor clapped his hands. "Why didn't you open the door and let her in?" Sang saw then that he had been played, and settled back into his rooms as before. The neighbor's son went home and schemed with friends. They set a ladder for a courtesan to cross the wall, and she rapped at the door. Sang peered out and asked who it was; the courtesan called herself a ghost. Sang was terrified, his teeth chattering audibly, and after hesitating she withdrew and went off. Early the next day the neighbor came to Sang's study; Sang recounted what he had seen and said he meant to return home. The neighbor clapped and said, "Why not open the door and take her in?" Sang understood at once it had been a trick, and settled down as before.

Half a year passed. Then one night a woman came and knocked at the study. Sang assumed the friends were at their game again and opened the door to let her in — and found a beauty who could have emptied a city. He asked, startled, where she had come from. "I am Lotus Fragrance," she said, "a courtesan from the house to the west." The wharf had brothels enough, so he believed her. They put out the lamp and went to bed, and were very tender. After that she came once every three or five nights. Half a year on, a woman came by night and knocked at the study. Sang supposed a friend was joking again, opened the door and let her in — and it was a beauty who could topple a kingdom. Startled, he asked whence she came. She said, "I am Lotus Fragrance, a courtesan of the house to the west." There were many brothels on the wharf, so he believed her. They put out the candle and went to bed, and were most intimate. From then she came once every three or five nights.

“There are foxes in this world who do no harm. There has never been a ghost who does none.”

One evening, as Sang sat lost in thought, a woman drifted in. He took her for Lotus Fragrance and turned to speak, but face to face she was a stranger, no more than fifteen or sixteen, one sleeve trailing, her hair still in a girl's loose fall, so light on her feet that she seemed to arrive and leave in the same motion. He started, and wondered if she was a fox. "I am a respectable family's daughter," she said. "My surname is Li. I have admired your refinement, and hoped you might look on me kindly." He was pleased, and took her hand — it was cold as ice. Why so cold, he asked. "My constitution has always been frail and chilled," she said, "and I have come through the night frost. How could it be otherwise?" When she gave herself to him she was plainly a girl who had never been touched. She asked whether anyone else shared his rooms. Only a courtesan next door, he said, and not often. "Then I must be careful to avoid her. I am not one of that courtyard's women. Keep my secret. When she comes, I will go; when she goes, I will come." One evening, sitting alone in thought, a woman came lightly in. Sang supposed it was Lotus Fragrance and went to speak, but face to face she was another — only fifteen or sixteen, a single sleeve hanging, her hair loose in a girl's style, graceful and flowing, so that in walking she seemed both to come and to go. Greatly startled, he suspected a fox. She said, "I am a good family's daughter, surnamed Li. I admire your refinement, and am fortunate you would regard me." Sang was glad and took her hand — cold as ice. He asked why it was so cold. She said, "My frame has been thin and cold since childhood; coming by night through the frost and dew, how could it not be so?" Then her robe loosened, and she was clearly a virgin. She said, "I come for love's sake; my maiden body, once given up. If you do not scorn me, I would serve your pillow and mat always. Is there anyone in the room?" Sang said there was only a neighboring courtesan, and she came seldom. She said, "I must carefully avoid her. I am not the same as the women of that house. Keep it secret: when she comes I go, when she goes I come."

At cockcrow she rose to go, and left him a small embroidered slipper. "This is worn against my body," she said. "Handle it, and you can send your longing to me. But never handle it when someone else is here." He turned it over — a little curved thing, tapered like an awl — and was charmed. The next evening, alone, he took it out to admire, and Li came drifting in at once. After that, whenever he brought out the slipper she appeared, as though the thought of her had called her there. When he marveled and asked how, she only laughed. "You happened to reach for it at the right moment." At cockcrow she made to leave, and gave him one embroidered slipper. "This is worn on my body," she said. "Play with it and you may send your longing. But if anyone is here, do not play with it." He took it and looked — curled and tapering like an awl for untying knots — and was delighted. The next evening, no one about, he brought it out to examine, and Li came floating in, and they were tender. From then, whenever he brought out the slipper, she answered his thought and came. Wondering, he asked her; she laughed and said, "It only happened to be the right time."

One night Lotus Fragrance looked hard at him and was troubled. "Why is your spirit so worn and dim?" He said he felt nothing wrong. She took her leave, promising to return in ten days. After she had gone, Li came every night without fail. She asked why his other woman stayed away so long, and he told her of the ten-day promise. "And how do I compare with Lotus Fragrance for beauty?" Li asked, laughing. Both of them were perfect, he said — though Lotus Fragrance's skin was warm. Li's face changed. "You call us both lovely only because you are saying it to my face. She must be some fairy out of the moon's palace; I could never match her." She was out of sorts after that. On her fingers she counted off the days, and when the ten were up she told him to say nothing — she meant to steal a look at her rival. One night Lotus Fragrance was startled. "Why is your spirit so bleak?" Sang said he was not aware of it. She then took leave, agreeing to return in ten days. After she left, Li came and never missed a night. She asked, "Why has your lover stayed away so long?" and he told her of the appointment. Li laughed, "How do I compare with Lotus Fragrance in beauty?" He said, "Both may be called perfect — only Lotus Fragrance's skin is warm." Li's color changed. "You say we are both beautiful, but you say it to my face. She must be a fairy of the moon-palace; I surely fall short." And she was unhappy. She counted the days on her fingers, and when the ten-day term was full she charged him to say nothing, meaning to spy on Lotus Fragrance in secret.

The next night Lotus Fragrance came, all warmth and talk, but when they lay down she was aghast. "This is bad. Ten days apart, and you are this drained. You have surely had someone else." He asked how she could tell. "I read it in your spirit and your breath. Your pulse runs scattered, like tangled silk — that is the mark of a ghost." The following night Li came, and Sang asked what she had made of Lotus Fragrance. "Beautiful," Li said. "I always said the world held no such beauty — she is a fox, plainly. I followed her when she left, and she keeps a burrow in the southern hills." Sang set it down to jealousy and let it pass. The next night Lotus Fragrance came, laughing and talking freely; but when they lay down she was greatly alarmed. "You are in danger. Ten days unseen, and so wasted — surely you have met another?" Sang asked her reason. She said, "I test it by your spirit and breath. Your pulse runs scattered like tangled silk — this is a ghost's symptom." The next night Li came, and Sang asked how Lotus Fragrance had seemed. "Beautiful," she said. "I always held there was no such beauty in the world — she is truly a fox. When she left I followed her; she dens in a burrow in the southern hills." Sang suspected jealousy and answered vaguely.

A night or two later Sang teased Lotus Fragrance. "I don't believe it, of course — but someone has been calling you a fox." She asked at once who. He laughed it off. "How is a fox any different from a person?" she said. He answered that a man bewitched by one sickens, and if it goes far enough, dies. "Not so," she said. "A man your age gets his strength back three days after a night together; what harm is one fox? It is the man drained day after day, without rest, who ends up worse off than any fox could leave him. All the wasted, consumptive dead under heaven — were they every one killed by foxes? Still, someone is slandering me." He denied it; she pressed; in the end he gave up the girl Li's words. Lotus Fragrance grew thoughtful. "So that is why you are so worn. But how has it gone this far, this fast? She may not be a living woman at all. Say nothing. Tomorrow night I will watch her, the way she watched me." A night later Sang teased her: "I don't credit it, but some call you a fox." She pressed at once, "Who said so?" He laughed: "I only tease you." She said, "How does a fox differ from a person?" He said, "One bewitched by them falls ill, and gravely, dies — that is why they are to be feared." She said, "Not so. At your age, three days after lying together the vital essence returns; what harm in a fox? But let a man be assailed day upon day, and he becomes worse than any fox could make him. All the consumptive corpses and wasting-sickness ghosts of the world — were they every one bewitched to death by foxes? Even so, someone must be slandering me." Sang strongly denied it; she pressed the harder; unable to help it, he let it out. She said, "No wonder you are so worn. But how has it come so far so quickly? Could she not be human? Say nothing — tomorrow night I shall watch her, as she watched me."

That night Li had barely spoken a few words when a cough sounded outside the window, and she fled. Lotus Fragrance came in. "You are in real danger. That is a true ghost. Dote on her looks and fail to cut her off, and the road below is not far." Sang, still thinking her jealous, said nothing. "I know you cannot let her go," she said, "but I cannot watch you die. Tomorrow I will bring medicine and draw the cold poison out of you. The rot is still shallow; ten days should mend it. Let me share your bed and see you well." The next night she brought a knife-tip of powder and gave it to him. Within moments his bowels moved two or three times, and he felt his insides scoured clean and his spirit come suddenly back. He was grateful — and still did not believe that Li was a ghost. That night Li had spoken but a few words when a cough came from beyond the window, and she fled. Lotus Fragrance entered: "You are in danger. This is truly a ghost-thing. Dote on her beauty and do not break it off quickly, and the road to the shades is near." Sang thought her jealous and kept silent. She said, "I know you cannot forget her, but I cannot bear to watch you die. Tomorrow I will bring medicine and rid you of the yin-poison. Happily the disease's root is shallow; in ten days the sickness should pass. Let me share your bed to see you recover." The next night she brought out a knife-point of medicine and fed it to him. In a moment he passed his bowels two or three times, felt his organs cleared and empty, and his spirit at once refreshed. In his heart he thanked her, yet in the end would not believe Li was a ghost.

For several nights Lotus Fragrance lay curled against him and would not let him touch her, and his flesh filled out again. When she made to leave she pressed him hard to be done with Li, and he lied and agreed. Then he barred the door, trimmed the lamp, and took out the slipper to hold — and Li appeared, resentful at the nights apart. He soothed her: Lotus Fragrance had sat up doctoring him and deserved no grudge; his heart was Li's own. That thawed her a little. On the pillow he murmured, "I love you so — and yet someone has called you a ghost." Li was tongue-tied a long moment, then spat it out. "It is that lewd fox poisoning your ears. Cut her off, or I will not come again." She dissolved into weeping, and he spent a hundred words to console her before she stopped. For some nights Lotus Fragrance slept close against him and each time stopped him when he sought union, and after several days his flesh filled out. About to leave, she urged him earnestly to break with Li, and he falsely agreed. Then he shut the door and raised the lamp and took up the slipper to brood over it — and Li suddenly came, sullen after the nights of separation. Sang said, "Night after night she has played physician for me; do not resent her. My love rests with you." Li was somewhat mollified. On the pillow he whispered, "I love you dearly, yet someone calls you a ghost." Li was tongue-tied a while, then cursed, "It must be that lewd fox misleading your ears. If you do not cut her off, I will not come." And she sobbed; he consoled her with a hundred words before she ceased.

The next night Lotus Fragrance came, knew Li had returned, and was furious. "You are determined to die." He laughed at her jealousy. "You plant the root of your own death," she said, "and I dig it out for you — and if I did not, what would become of you?" To needle her, he said Li had told him the sickness was fox-work all along. Lotus Fragrance only sighed. "As you say. You are lost and will not wake. If the worst comes, I could not clear myself with a hundred mouths. I take my leave. In a hundred days I will come and find you in your bed." He could not keep her; she went straight out in anger. After that Li was with him day and night. Within two months he was failing badly, thinning to where a bowl of gruel was all he could take, clinging to her even as he weakened. At last, sunk past rising, he turned to her. "I am sorry I did not listen to Lotus Fragrance. It has brought me to this." He closed his eyes. When he came round, Li was gone, and she did not come again. The next night Lotus Fragrance came, knew Li had come again, and was angry: "You truly wish to die." Sang laughed, "Why so jealous?" She grew angrier: "You plant the root of death, and I remove it for you — if I did not, what would come of you?" To tease her he said, "She says the other day's illness was only a fox's haunting." Lotus Fragrance sighed, "If it is as you say, you are deluded and will not wake. Should some mishap come, my hundred mouths could not explain it. I take my leave here. In a hundred days I will look for you upon your sickbed." He could not hold her; she went off in a temper. Thereafter Li was with him day and night. In some two months he felt utterly spent — thinning by the day, taking only a bowl of gruel — yet clung to her, loath to leave. He sank until he could not rise. At last he said to Li, "I regret I did not heed Lotus Fragrance, to come to this." He spoke, and his eyes closed. After a while he revived, looked about, and Li was already gone; from then she was cut off.

Sang lay wasting in the empty study, longing for Lotus Fragrance the way a farmer longs for harvest. One day, mid-thought, the curtain lifted and there she was. She came to the bed and smiled down at him. "Well, country boy — was I lying?" He wept a long while, confessed his fault, and begged her to save him. "The sickness has gone into the marrow," she said. "There is honestly no cure. I came only to say goodbye, so you would know it was never jealousy." He was stricken. "Under my pillow there is a thing. Please — break it for me." She felt for it, drew out the slipper, and carried it to the lamp, turning it over and over. Sang lay thin in the empty study, longing for Lotus Fragrance as one longs for the harvest. One day, deep in thought, someone lifted the curtain — Lotus Fragrance. She came to the bed and smiled: "Country lad, was I speaking falsely?" Sang choked with sobs a long while, owned his fault, and begged only to be saved. She said, "The disease has entered the vitals; truly there is no method to save you. I come only to bid a last farewell, to make plain it was not jealousy." Sang grieved greatly: "Under my pillow is a thing — trouble yourself to smash it." She searched out the slipper, took it to the lamp, and turned it over and over.

Then Li slipped in, saw Lotus Fragrance, and spun to run. Lotus Fragrance set her body against the door, and Li had nowhere to go. Sang reproached her and she could not answer. "At last I can meet you face to face, Sister," said Lotus Fragrance, "and settle the account. You once laid the young master's sickness at my door. And now?" Li bowed her head and confessed the wrong. "So lovely a girl," said Lotus Fragrance, "and you would turn love into a killing?" Li flung herself down weeping and begged to be pitied and saved. Lotus Fragrance raised her up and drew out her story. "I am the daughter of Li the magistrate," the girl said, "dead young, buried beyond the wall — a spring silkworm already dead whose thread is not yet spent. I wanted only to share love with him. To bring him near his death was never my true heart." Then Li came abruptly in, saw Lotus Fragrance, and turned to flee. Lotus Fragrance shielded the door with her body, and Li, hard-pressed, could find no way out. Sang reckoned up her faults, and she could not answer. Lotus Fragrance laughed, "Today I finally meet Elder Sister face to face. You once said the young master's old illness was surely my doing — and now, what is it?" Li bowed her head and confessed her fault. Lotus Fragrance said, "So fair, and you make an enemy out of love?" Li threw herself to the ground and wept, begging for pity and rescue. Lotus Fragrance raised her and questioned her closely on her life. She said, "I am the daughter of Li the magistrate, dead young and buried beyond the wall — a spring silkworm already dead, its remaining thread not yet spent. To be good with the young master was my wish; to bring him to death was truly not my original heart."

Lotus Fragrance asked whether it was true, as people said, that a ghost gains by her lover's death, the two of them then joined below forever. "It is not," Li said. "When two ghosts meet there is no joy in it. Were there joy, would the young dead be so few?" "Foolish girl," said Lotus Fragrance. "Night after night with a man wears out even the living; how much more a ghost." Li asked why a fox could kill and yet Lotus Fragrance's kind did not. "Those are the ones who steal a man's essence to feed their own," she said. "I am not of that stripe. There are foxes in this world who do no harm. There has never been a ghost who does none — the cold breath in them runs too strong." So both fox and ghost were real; and Sang, who had seen enough of them by now to take it calmly, felt only the thread of breath left in him, and cried out in spite of himself. Lotus Fragrance said, "I hear a ghost profits by a person's death, since after death they may be forever together — is it so?" Li said, "Not so. When two ghosts meet there is no pleasure in it; were there pleasure, would the young men beneath the springs be few?" Lotus Fragrance said, "Foolish one. Night upon night as a man's companion, a living person cannot endure it — how much less a ghost." Li asked, "A fox can kill a person; why does your art alone not?" Lotus Fragrance said, "Those are the essence-stealing kind; I am not of their sort. So the world has foxes that do no harm, but never a ghost that does none, because the yin breath is too strong." Sang, hearing this, knew for the first time that both fox and ghost were real; but used to the sight, he was not greatly frightened. Only, thinking his remnant breath a mere thread, he cried aloud without knowing it.

Lotus Fragrance looked at the ruined man and asked Li what she meant to do for him. Li, red-faced, could only apologize. "I only worry," said Lotus Fragrance, dry, "that once he is strong again the jealous lady will want her sour plums back." Straightening her collar, Li said that if a healer existed who could set this right, she would bury her face in the earth rather than betray him again. Lotus Fragrance opened her pouch and brought out medicine. "I knew this day would come. After I left you I gathered herbs on the three sacred mountains, three whole months, until I had it all. Nothing this cures fails to revive, even at death's door. But a sickness must be drawn out by the road it came in — so I need your help." What was needed, Li asked. "One drop of the sweet dew from your lips. I give the pill; you take it mouth to mouth and pass the breath." Li's face burned; she looked down and away, sidelong at her own slipper. "The only thing my sister prizes is that shoe," said Lotus Fragrance, teasing, until Li, out of any place to hide, gave the pill from her own mouth — once, twice, three times and four, till it went down. His belly rumbled like thunder. Lotus Fragrance set a second pill, joined her own lips to his, and breathed. Sang felt a heat kindle low in him and his spirit blaze up. "Cured," she said. Lotus Fragrance turned and asked, "What will you do for the young master?" Li, blushing, deferred and apologized. Lotus Fragrance laughed, "I fear that when he is strong again, the vinegar-lady will want to eat bayberries." Adjusting her robe, Li said, "If there is a healer with a nation-saving hand, so that I do not wrong him, I would bury my head underground — how could I dare face people in the world again?" Lotus Fragrance opened her bag and produced medicine: "I knew there would be a day like this. After we parted I gathered herbs on the Three Mountains, three full months, until the materials were complete. Even wasting-sickness at the point of death — give this, and none fails to revive. But a sickness must be drawn out by whatever brought it on; I cannot but turn to you for help." "What is needed?" "One point of fragrant saliva from your cherry lips. I put in a pill; trouble yourself to take it mouth to mouth and give the saliva." Li's face flushed to the cheeks; she looked down and aside at her slipper. Lotus Fragrance teased, "Sister, is the slipper all you take pride in?" Li, more ashamed, had no place to hide. Lotus Fragrance said, "This is your everyday skill — why so stingy now?" and put the pill to his mouth, pressing her on. Li, unable to help it, gave the saliva. "Again," said Lotus Fragrance. Again — three or four times, and the pill went down the throat. Soon his belly rumbled like thunder. She set another pill, joined her own lips and spread her breath into him. Sang felt his cinnabar field grow hot and his spirit shine out. "Cured," she said.

Since he was newly mended and still needed care, Lotus Fragrance barred the door from outside and let it be thought Sang had gone home, so no one else would come, and she nursed him day and night. Li came every evening too, waiting on him tenderly and serving Lotus Fragrance like an elder sister; and Lotus Fragrance came to love her dearly. In three months Sang was as strong as ever. Then Li began to keep away — a night skipped, then more, and when she did come she looked in once and left, unhappy in his presence. Lotus Fragrance kept pressing her to stay and sleep, and she always refused. Once Sang went after her and swept her up in his arms to carry her back; she weighed no more than a bundle of straw. She could not get free, so she lay still in her clothes, drawing her feet up until her whole body was under two feet long, and no shaking would wake her. He fell asleep, and when he reached for her she was gone. After ten-odd days she came no more. Left with only the slipper, Sang would take it out and grieve. As he was newly recovered and still needed tending, and taking meals abroad would not do, Lotus Fragrance barred the outer door and feigned that Sang had gone home, to cut off all coming and going, and guarded him day and night. Li too came each evening, serving diligently and treating Lotus Fragrance as an elder sister; and Lotus Fragrance loved her deeply. After three months Sang was healthy as before. Then Li stayed away for several nights; when she did come, one look and she left; and in his company she was downcast. Lotus Fragrance often kept her to sleep together, and she absolutely would not. Sang chased out, caught her up and carried her home; her body was light as a straw grave-figure. Unable to flee, she lay down clothed, her feet curling her body to under two feet, and shaking her would not rouse her. Sang fell asleep, woke and reached for her, and she had vanished. After some ten days she came no more. Sang, longing keenly, would often take out the slipper to handle it.

Now a rich family named Zhang had a daughter, Yan'er, fifteen, who died of a fever that never broke. In the night she revived, rose, and made to run; her father barred the door and she could not get out. "I am the soul of the magistrate's daughter," she said, "moved by young Sang's devotion — my slipper is still with him. I am truly a ghost; what use is it to lock me in?" There was reason in her words, but when they asked how she had come there she faltered and could not say. Someone reported that Sang had gone home sick; she swore it was false. The neighbor heard of it and climbed the wall to look, and saw Sang talking with a beautiful woman who was gone the instant he burst in — so Sang unbarred his door at last. To test her, the Zhangs sent an old servant for the slipper, and Sang handed it over. Yan'er received it in delight and tried it on: it was an inch too small for her foot. Aghast, she caught up a mirror, and understanding broke over her — she had borrowed a body to live again. She lay down, refused food, swelled all over; seven days without eating she did not die, and the swelling sank; then her whole body itched and the skin peeled away, and when her own shoe slipped off her foot in the morning it was suddenly far too big. She tried Li's slipper, and it fit to the width. Delighted, she looked in the mirror: brow and eye and cheek had come back to their old shape, exactly as in her former life. Before this, a rich family named Zhang had a daughter styled Yan'er, fifteen, who died without breaking a sweat. Through the night she revived, rose and looked about to flee; Zhang barred the door and she could not get out. She said, "I am the soul of the magistrate's daughter, moved by young Sang's regard — my slipper is still there with him. I am truly a ghost; what use to shut me in?" Her words had a cause, but asked how she had come there, she looked round vaguely and could not explain herself. Someone said Sang had gone home sick; she insisted this was a lie, and the household grew very doubtful. The neighbor heard, climbed the wall to spy, and saw Sang in talk with a beautiful woman, who in the confusion was already gone; so Sang opened his door. The Zhang mother, hearing Sang truly had not gone home, wondered the more, and sent an old serving-woman to ask for the slipper, which Sang produced. Yan'er got it, delighted, and tried it on: the shoe was more than an inch smaller than her foot. Greatly shocked, she took a mirror to herself and suddenly grasped that she had borrowed a body to live, and told the whole cause; her mother then believed her. She covered herself and lay stiff, would not eat, and her whole body swelled; seven days without food she did not die, and the swelling slowly went down; then, unbearably itching all over, her skin peeled off entire. At dawn her sleeping-shoe fell away, and groping to put it on she found her foot now huge; so she tried the former slipper, and it matched exactly. Looking again in the mirror, brow, eye, and cheek were her old self, just as in her former life.

Lotus Fragrance heard of the marvel and urged Sang to send a matchmaker, but the gulf between his poverty and the Zhangs' wealth held him back. It happened the old lady kept her birthday, and Sang went along in the son-in-law's train to offer his wishes. Knowing his name, she had Yan'er watch from behind the curtain to pick him out. He came in last; the girl darted out and seized his sleeve, meaning to go home with him then and there, and shrank back only when her mother scolded her. Sang looked and it was Li to the life; he wept without meaning to, and bowed to the ground and would not rise, and the old lady, taking no offense, helped him up. He had the girl's uncle act as go-between, and a lucky day was fixed. He went home and told Lotus Fragrance and asked her what to do. She was downcast a long while and then said she would go. He was aghast and wept; but she said only, "You will hold a wedding in another's house — what face have I to follow you there?" So they agreed he would bring Yan'er home first, and told Zhang the truth: that he had a wife. Zhang was angry until Yan'er argued it through, and the wedding went as Sang wished. On the day, from gate to hall the floor was laid with carpets and a thousand lantern-candles burned, arrayed bright as brocade. Lotus Fragrance led the bride into the bridal chamber; when the veil lifted, the two women's joy was as of old. Over the wedding cups Lotus Fragrance asked how the return to life had come about. "I lay wretched," Yan'er said, "sick of being a thing that was not alive. After we parted I would not go back to my grave; I drifted on the wind, envying every living soul, resting by day in the grass, floating I knew not where by night — and I wandered into the Zhang house, saw a girl on the bed, and pressed close to her, never knowing I could live." Lotus Fragrance heard of the wonder and urged Sang to open a match; but the distance between poor and rich made him afraid to press forward. It fell that the old lady kept her birthday, so Sang went in her son-in-law's party to offer congratulations. Seeing Sang's name, she had Yan'er peer through the curtain to know the guest. Sang came last; the girl rushed out, caught his sleeve, and would go home with him, drawing back ashamed only when her mother rebuked her. Sang looked, and it was she to the life; unaware, he shed tears, and bowed low and would not rise; the old lady raised him, taking it for no insult. He had the girl's maternal uncle serve as go-between, and the old lady set an auspicious day to take Sang in. He went home, told Lotus Fragrance, and consulted her. She was despondent a long while, then would depart. Sang was greatly alarmed and wept. She said, "You go to hold the wedding torches at another's house; were I to follow, what face would I have?" So he planned to bring her home first and fetch Yan'er after, and she agreed. Sang told Zhang the truth; hearing he had a household, Zhang angrily reproached him, but Yan'er argued it strongly, and it went as asked. On the day Sang went to fetch the bride. The Zhangs' preparations were meager enough; but on the return, from gate to hall the ground was laid with felt carpets, and a thousand lantern-candles blazed, arrayed like brocade. Lotus Fragrance helped the new bride into the green tent; the veil lifted, and their gladness was as in old days. She sat with them at the nuptial cups and asked closely of the marvel of the return. Yan'er said, "That day I was wretched and listless, only because my body was a strange thing and I felt my form defiled. After parting, in resentment I would not return to the grave; I drifted on the wind, envying the living whenever I saw them. By day I leaned on grass and trees, by night let my feet float and sink; by chance I came to the Zhang house, saw a girl lying on the bed, drew close and clung to her — not knowing I could truly come alive."

Two months on, Lotus Fragrance bore a son. Right after the birth a sudden illness took her, and she sank by the day. She caught Yan'er's arm. "I lay this waif on you — my child is your child." Yan'er wept and tried to comfort her. Lotus Fragrance waved off every shaman and doctor. The sickness deepened until her breath hung by a thread, and Sang and Yan'er both wept. All at once she opened her eyes. "Don't. You are glad to live; I am glad to go. If there is any fate in it, in ten years we will meet again." She spoke, and died. When they lifted the quilt to dress her, the body had become a fox. Sang could not bring himself to look on it as strange, and buried her richly. They named the boy Fox-boy, and Yan'er raised him as her own; and every Clear-Bright festival she carried the child to weep at the grave. Two months later Lotus Fragrance bore a son. After the birth a violent illness took her, and daily she sank. She grasped Yan'er's arm: "I dare burden you with this waif; my child is your child." Yan'er wept and consoled her. She would have shamans and doctors called, and each was refused. The illness lingered, her breath like a hanging thread, and Sang and Yan'er both wept. Suddenly she opened her eyes: "Do not. You delight to live; I delight to die. If there is fate, in ten years we may meet again." She spoke, and died. Opening the quilt to shroud her, the corpse had turned into a fox. Sang could not bear to treat it as alien, and buried her generously. The boy was named Fox-boy, and Yan'er reared him as her own; every Clear-Bright she would hold the child and weep at the grave.

In time Sang passed the provincial examination and the household grew comfortable, but Yan'er, for all her hoping, bore no child, and Fox-boy, quick as he was, stayed frail and often sick; so she kept urging Sang to take a concubine. One day a maid announced an old woman at the gate with a girl for sale. Yan'er had them in, took one look, and cried out — the girl was Lotus Fragrance come again. Sang looked, and it was true, and he too was startled. She was fourteen; her father, said the old woman, had sold drinks in Xucheng and had been dead three years, and she asked only that the girl find a home and she herself a place to eat, so her old bones would not end in a ditch. Sang paid well and kept her. Yan'er drew the girl into a private room, cupped her chin, and laughed. "Do you know me?" She did not. Her surname was Wei, she said. Yan'er reckoned on her fingers: Lotus Fragrance had died just fourteen years before, and every line of the girl's face and bearing was hers. She patted the girl's head. "Sister Lotus, Sister Lotus — you swore we would meet in ten years, and you have not cheated me." The girl started as if waking from a dream. "Ah," she said, and stared. "This," said Sang, laughing, "is the swallow that seems to have met us before, come home." The girl's eyes filled. "So it is. They told me I could speak the day I was born, and thought it unlucky, and gave me dog's blood to drink, and so I forgot what came before. Only now do I wake. And you — are you the Li who was ashamed to be a ghost?" They talked of the life before, grief and gladness together. Later Sang passed the provincial examination and the family grew well-off; but Yan'er suffered to bear no child, and Fox-boy, though clever, was slight and often ill, so she was always wanting Sang to take a concubine. One day a maid said, "At the gate an old woman brings a girl to sell." Yan'er called them in, and at sight cried out, "Sister Lotus has come again." Sang looked — truly like her — and was startled too. Asked her age: "Fourteen." The bride-price: "This one piece of flesh is all I have; only let her find a place, and I a place to eat, so my old bones do not end in a gully, and it is enough." Sang paid a good price and kept her. Yan'er took the girl's hand into a private room, cupped her chin and laughed: "Do you know me?" "I do not." Asked her surname: "Wei. My father sold drinks in Xucheng and has been dead three years." Yan'er counted on her fingers — Lotus Fragrance had died just fourteen years before — and looked her over: not a feature or a manner that was not her very likeness. She patted the girl's head and called, "Sister Lotus, Sister Lotus — the ten-year promise, surely you would not cheat me." The girl woke as from a dream: "Ah!" and gazed at Yan'er. Sang laughed, "This is 'the swallow that seems once known, come home again.'" The girl wept: "It is so. I heard my mother say I could speak at birth; thinking it ill-omened, they gave me dog's blood to drink, and I lost my former cause. Only today do I wake as from sleep. Are you the Li sister who was ashamed to be a ghost?" Together they spoke of the former life, grief and joy meeting at once.

One Cold-Food day Yan'er said, "This is the day each year the master and I go to weep for our sister." So they went together up to the grave, where the grass had run wild and the tree stood thick as an embrace, and the girl too sighed over it. "Sister Lotus and I have loved through two lifetimes," Yan'er said to Sang, "and cannot bear to be parted. Let our old bones share one grave." Sang did as she asked, opened Li's tomb, carried the bones home, and buried them together; and word of the strange thing brought friends and kin in festive dress to the graveside, some hundreds of them, who came without being asked. Of all of it the Historian of the Strange said only this: the dead go seeking to live, and the living go seeking to die — is the hardest thing to come by under heaven not the human body itself? And yet those who have one throw it away, until they live, shamefaced, worse than a fox, and die, snuffed out, worse than a ghost. One Cold-Food day Yan'er said, "This is the day each year the master and I weep for our sister." So they went in person up to the grave, where the wild grass grew rank and the tree had thickened to a span, and the girl also sighed. Yan'er said to Sang, "Sister Lotus and I, in love through two lifetimes, cannot bear to be parted; let our white bones share one hollow." Sang followed her word, opened Li's tomb, took up the bones, and carried them home to bury together; and friends and kin, hearing the marvel, came in festive dress to the grave, several hundred gathering without appointment. The Historian of the Strange remarks: Alas — the dead seek to live, the living seek to die. Is not the hardest thing to gain under heaven the human body itself? Yet those who possess this body often cast it aside, until they live shamefaced, worse than a fox, and die snuffed out, worse than a ghost.

蓮香 The original Chinese · honored as an artifact

桑生名曉,字子明,沂州人,少孤,館于紅花埠。桑為人靜穆自喜,日再出就食東鄰,餘時堅坐而已。

Opening lines, classical Chinese · Strange Tales 聊齋誌異 · Pu Songling