Shen Linsheng related the following story:
A certain old man, a friend of his, was taking an afternoon nap during the summer. In a drowsy haze, he saw a woman lift the curtain and enter. Her head was wrapped in white cloth, and she wore coarse hemp mourning garments and a hempen skirt. She walked toward the inner chamber. The old man at first thought she was a neighbour’s wife visiting his own wife. But then he reflected: Why would anyone enter another’s house dressed in funeral attire? While he was still bewildered, the woman came out again.
Looking more closely, he saw she was about thirty years old, with a sallow, swollen face and drawn, frowning brows – her very appearance was frightening. She lingered in the room, not leaving, and gradually approached the bed. He pretended to be asleep to see what she would do.
Soon she hitched up her clothes and climbed onto the bed, pressing herself down on his abdomen. He felt a weight as heavy as a hundred jun (an ancient unit of weight, roughly 30 jin or 15 kg per jun, so about 1500 kg – an exaggerated description of crushing pressure). Though his mind was perfectly clear, when he tried to lift his hands, they seemed bound; when he tried to move his legs, they were as limp as if paralysed. He desperately wanted to shout for help, but his voice would not come.
The woman put her mouth to his face and began sniffing him – his cheekbones, nose, brows, and forehead, all over. Her lips were as cold as ice, and her breath sent a chill straight through his bones. In his desperation, the old man hit upon a plan: When she comes to my cheeks and jaw, I will bite her. Sure enough, she soon reached his jaw. He seized the opportunity and bit down hard on her cheekbone, sinking his teeth into her flesh.
The woman, in pain, pulled back, struggling and crying out. He bit down even harder. He felt blood trickling down his own cheeks, wetting the pillow beside him. While they were locked in this grim struggle, he suddenly heard his wife’s voice from the courtyard. He shouted urgently, “There is a ghost!” But the moment he loosened his grip, the woman vanished in a flash.
His wife rushed in and saw nothing. She laughed and said he had merely had a nightmare. He told her what had happened and said there would be bloodstains as proof. They examined the pillow together: there was a wet patch, like rainwater leaking through a roof, soaking the pillow and mat. When his wife bent down and smelled it, the odour was nauseatingly fishy and foul. The old man then vomited violently. For several days afterward, the stench still lingered in his mouth.
Note
Like many tales in Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, “Biting the Ghost” blends horror with everyday domestic life. The old man’s quick thinking (pretending to sleep, then biting) turns him from a passive victim into an active fighter – a rare moment of agency against supernatural terror. The story also plays on the tension between belief and scepticism, and the uneasy boundary between dream and reality.
Mourning garments (缞服麻裙):
In traditional Chinese funerary customs, the degree of mourning dress was strictly prescribed according to one’s relationship to the deceased. Coarse, unbleached hemp fabric was worn for the heaviest mourning (e.g., for a parent or spouse). The white head‑cloth and hempen skirt indicate that the woman was in deep mourning – making it all the more shocking that she would enter someone else’s home in such attire, a breach of social propriety and an omen of bad luck.
Weight of a hundred jun (百钧):
The jun (钧) was an ancient Chinese unit of weight, equivalent to 30 jin (catties) or roughly 15 kilograms. One hundred jun would be about 1,500 kg – a grotesque exaggeration, used here to convey the crushing, suffocating sensation of being pinned down by a ghostly presence, a common feature of “night‑mare” or sleep‑paralysis accounts.
Sleep paralysis and ghost‑pressing (鬼压身):
The old man’s symptoms – fully conscious but unable to move or speak, feeling a heavy weight on his chest – are exactly those of sleep paralysis, a phenomenon known in Chinese folklore as gui ya shen (ghost pressing on the body). Traditionally, it was attributed to malevolent spirits or demons sitting on the sleeper.
Biting as a defence:
In many Chinese ghost stories, physical contact with a ghost is possible, and biting or wounding the spectre often leaves a tangible mark – blood, a torn piece of clothing, or an odour. Here, the bloodstain and the revolting smell serve as “evidence” that the encounter was real, not a dream.
The wife’s reaction:
The old man’s wife initially dismisses his story as a nightmare – a sceptical, rational response that contrasts with the supernatural event. But the physical evidence (the foul‑smelling blood) forces her to believe, adding a touch of dark humour to the tale.
The lingering stench:
The final detail – that the odour remained in his mouth for days – emphasises the visceral, grotesque nature of the encounter. It also implies that the ghost was not a pure spirit but a corrupted, decaying entity, possibly a jiangshi (stiff corpse) or a vengeful female ghost.
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