Fang Dong, a scholar from Chang’an (present‑day Xi’an), was fairly well known for his literary talent, but he was frivolous and careless in his manners. Whenever he saw young women out on the roads, he would follow them and make light advances. One day, the day before the Qingming Festival (Tomb‑Sweeping Day), he happened to stroll beyond the city walls. He spotted a small carriage with crimson curtains and embroidered canopies, attended by several maidservants riding at a leisurely pace. Among them was a maid riding a small pony, whose beauty was striking.
Fang edged closer to peer inside. The carriage curtains were drawn wide open, revealing a young lady of about sixteen, dressed in brilliant red, more lovely than any he had ever seen. He was utterly dazzled and captivated, unable to tear himself away. He followed the carriage for several li, sometimes walking ahead, sometimes behind, lingering obsessively.
Suddenly, he heard the young lady call the maid to her side and say: “Lower the curtains for me. What reckless young man is this, who keeps peeping at us?” The maid lowered the curtains, then glared at Fang and scolded him: “This is the new bride of the Seventh Young Master of Hibiscus City, returning to her parents’ home. She is no country woman to be gaped at by a mere scholar!” With that, she scooped up some dust from the wheel track and flung it into Fang’s eyes.
Fang’s eyes were so irritated that he could not open them. He rubbed them and tried to look again, but the carriage had vanished. Astonished and uneasy, he returned home. He found that his eyes remained uncomfortable, and when he asked someone to lift his eyelids and examine them, a tiny film had grown over each pupil. Overnight it worsened; tears streamed down incessantly. The film grew thicker, and within days it was as thick as a coin. His right eye developed a spiral‑shaped growth. No medicine worked, and he was mortified, on the verge of despair. He began to repent of his past behaviour.
Hearing that the Guangming Jing (Light‑Emitting Sutra, a Buddhist scripture) could relieve misfortune, he obtained a copy and begged someone to teach him to recite it. At first he was restless, but gradually he found peace. With nothing to do morning and night, he simply sat in meditation, counting prayer beads. After a year of this practice, all worldly attachments faded away.
Then one day he heard a tiny voice in his left eye, like a fly buzzing: “It’s pitch‑black in here – unbearable!” Another voice answered from his right eye: “Let us go out for a little stroll together, to relieve this suffocation.” Soon he felt a wriggling, itching sensation in both nostrils, as though something were emerging. The small things left his nose and went away. After a long while they returned, re‑entering through his nostrils. Then one voice said: “We haven’t visited the garden for some time – the pearl orchids have all withered and died!”
Fang had always loved fragrant orchids and had planted many in his garden, watering them daily. But since losing his sight, he had neglected them. On hearing this, he urgently asked his wife: “Why have the orchids withered?” His wife asked how he knew, and he told her everything. She hurried to check, and indeed the plants were dried up – she was utterly astonished.
She quietly hid in the room to observe. She saw tiny figures, no bigger than a bean, emerge from Fang’s nostrils and scurry out the door. They went farther and farther until they disappeared. Soon they returned, holding hands, and flew onto his face, like bees or ants returning to their nest. This went on for two or three days.
Then the left voice said again: “The tunnel through the nose is too winding; it is very inconvenient to go back and forth. Better to open our own door.” The right voice replied: “The wall of my chamber is thick – it is not easy.” The left said: “Let me try to break through, and then we can share it.” Fang then felt a tearing, scratching sensation inside his left eye. After a while, he opened his eye and could see the objects on the table clearly! Joyfully he told his wife. She examined him and found that the membrane had split open, making a small hole, and the dark pupil glistened – just like a split peppercorn. After another night, the film completely disappeared. Looking closely, he found that he now had a double pupil (a rare trait, often associated with sages or emperors in Chinese lore) in that eye. His right eye, however, remained spiralled as before. So he understood that the two little spirits had taken up residence together in the left eye.
Though Fang was now blind in one eye, his vision in the other was even sharper and clearer than that of a normal person with two eyes. From then on, he behaved with great self‑restraint, and his townsfolk praised him for his virtue.
The Historian’s Commentary (Yishi Shi yue):
“In my hometown there was a scholar who, while walking with two friends, saw a young woman riding a donkey ahead of them. Jokingly, he recited a verse: ‘O lovely lady!’ Then he said to his friends: ‘Chase her!’ They all laughed and galloped after her. But when they caught up, they realised she was his own daughter‑in‑law! He was mortified and fell silent. His friends, pretending not to know, made lewd remarks about her. The poor scholar, red‑faced, stammered: ‘She is my eldest son’s wife.’ They all chuckled and let it drop.
“Light‑minded men often bring shame upon themselves – how ridiculous! As for Fang’s blinding, that was the grim retribution of the spirits. Who is the ‘Lord of Hibiscus City’? Is he some manifestation of the Bodhisattva? Yet the little spirits eventually opened a new door for him. This shows that although ghosts and gods may be harsh, they never refuse a chance for repentance!”
Note
This tale is both a cautionary story about the dangers of lust and a fable about moral transformation. The grotesque yet whimsical image of tiny spirits chatting inside the eyes gives it a unique place in Chinese supernatural literature.
Chang’an (长安):
The ancient capital of China, now Xi’an in Shaanxi Province. It was the imperial capital for many dynasties and a cultural centre. Here it simply denotes the setting of the story.
Qingming Festival (清明):
Tomb‑Sweeping Day, a traditional Chinese holiday in early April when families visit ancestors’ graves. It is also a time for spring outings, which explains why many people – including the lady in the carriage – were on the roads.
Hibiscus City (芙蓉城):
A legendary celestial realm in Chinese folklore, often associated with the immortal realm of flowers or beautiful maidens. The “Seventh Young Master” suggests a ranking within a divine hierarchy. The maid’s mention of it indicates that the lady is a supernatural being.
Returning to her parents’ home (归宁):
In traditional Chinese custom, a newly married woman would make a formal visit back to her natal family after the wedding, often accompanied by attendants and gifts. This was a respectable occasion, making Fang’s peeping all the more improper.
Guangming Jing (光明经):
Literally “Sutra of Light,” a Buddhist text believed to have the power to dispel darkness, both physical and spiritual. It was commonly recited for healing and protection.
Prayer beads (捻珠):
Also known as mala in Sanskrit, these are strings of beads used in Buddhist meditation to count recitations of mantras or scriptures.
Double pupil (重瞳):
A rare physical condition where the iris appears to have two pupils. In ancient China, it was considered a sign of extraordinary destiny – both the legendary sage‑king Shun and the heroic Xiang Yu were said to have double pupils. Here it symbolises Fang’s spiritual rebirth.
“The Historian’s Commentary” (异史氏曰):
A distinctive feature of Pu Songling’s tales, where he adds a concluding moral or reflection in the voice of “the Strange Historian” (a self‑given title). These passages often draw parallels to historical or contemporary events and offer ethical judgments.
Retribution and repentance:
The story reflects traditional Chinese Buddhist‑Confucian values: lecherous behaviour invites divine punishment, but sincere penitence and spiritual practice can lead to redemption – even if partial (he loses one eye but gains sharper vision in the other). The final line underscores the theme that the door to reform is never completely closed.
Leave a Reply