In Wensheng (present-day Shandong Province), there was a scholar named Zhou. He and another scholar, Cheng, had studied together since childhood and became sworn friends – what the ancients called a “mortar-and-pestle friendship” (a bond between rich and poor that remains unshaken). Cheng was poor, so he often relied on Zhou for support throughout the year. Since Zhou was older, Cheng addressed Zhou’s wife as “elder sister-in-law.” On festivals, he would come to their home as if he were part of the family.
Zhou’s wife gave birth to a son but died soon after childbirth. Zhou then married a woman from the Wang family. Because Cheng was still young and unmarried, he had never asked to meet the new wife.
One day, Wang’s younger brother came to visit his sister, and the family held a feast in the inner chambers. Cheng happened to arrive at that moment. The servant announced him, but Zhou invited him in from the outer room. Cheng declined and left. Zhou moved the feast to the outer hall and chased after him, bringing him back.
No sooner had they sat down than someone reported that a servant from Zhou’s country estate had been severely beaten by the county magistrate. It turned out that a herdsman from Minister Huang’s household had let cattle trample Zhou’s fields, leading to an altercation. The herdsman fled to his master, who then had Zhou’s servant arrested and sent to the magistrate, where he was beaten.
Zhou learned the full story and flew into a rage: “How dare that swineherd from the Huang family act like this! His ancestors were servants to my grandfather, and now that he’s risen in the world, he thinks he can trample on others!” Fuming with anger, Zhou rose to confront Huang. Cheng held him back, saying: “In this lawless world, right and wrong are never clear. And today’s magistrates are hardly better than bandits who have merely swapped swords for official seals.” Zhou would not listen. Cheng pleaded with him, even weeping, until Zhou finally gave in – but his anger did not subside. He tossed and turned all night.
Zhou then told his family: “The Huang family has wronged me, and they are my enemies. I’ll let it pass for now. But the magistrate is an official of the imperial court, not a private enforcer of the powerful. Even if there is a dispute, both sides must be heard. Why should he act like a dog answering its master’s whistle? I will also lodge a complaint against their servant and see what he does.” His family urged him on, and so he decided to proceed.
Zhou filed a complaint with the magistrate, but the magistrate tore it up and threw it away. Zhou, enraged, spoke insultingly to the magistrate. The magistrate, humiliated and furious, had Zhou arrested and thrown into prison. When Cheng visited Zhou later that morning, he learned that Zhou had gone to the city to sue. He rushed to stop him but found him already in chains. Cheng stamped his feet in despair.
Meanwhile, three pirates had been captured, and the magistrate, bribed by Minister Huang, instructed them to falsely implicate Zhou as their accomplice. Based on this false testimony, Zhou’s scholar status was stripped, and he was subjected to brutal torture. Cheng visited him in prison, and they looked at each other in anguish. Cheng planned to appeal to the emperor. Zhou said: “I am trapped here like a bird in a cage. Though I have a younger brother, he can only provide food for me here.” Cheng took it upon himself: “This is my duty. If I don’t help a friend in distress, what use is friendship?”
He set off. Zhou’s younger brother offered him travel money, but Cheng had already departed.
Arriving at the capital, Cheng had no way to present his petition. He learned that the emperor would soon go hunting, so he hid in the marketplace. When the imperial procession passed, Cheng threw himself before it, weeping and crying out his grievance. His petition was accepted, and an official decree was sent down ordering a retrial. By this time, over ten months had passed, and Zhou had already confessed under torture and been sentenced to death. The imperial authorities were shocked when they received the decree and reopened the case.
Minister Huang, terrified, attempted to have Zhou murdered. He bribed the jailers to cut off Zhou’s food and water. Zhou’s younger brother came with provisions but was turned away. Cheng again appealed to the tribunal, and Zhou was finally brought out for questioning – but he was already near death from starvation. The angry tribunal had the jailer beaten to death. Minister Huang, panicked, paid a large bribe to have the matter hushed up, and the case was vaguely dismissed. The magistrate was sentenced to exile for judicial misconduct.
Zhou was released and returned home, his gratitude to Cheng deeper than ever. But Cheng, disillusioned by the corrupt world, urged Zhou to withdraw from society and live in seclusion. Zhou, infatuated with his young wife, laughed off the suggestion. Cheng said nothing, but his resolve was firm. A few days after taking leave, Cheng did not return. Zhou sent someone to his house, but his family thought he was with Zhou. When neither knew his whereabouts, they began to worry. Zhou realized something extraordinary had happened and searched everywhere – temples, monasteries, valleys – but found no trace. He gave money and clothes to Cheng’s son.
Eight or nine years later, Cheng suddenly appeared, wearing a yellow headscarf and Taoist robes, with the dignified air of a sage. Zhou, overjoyed, grasped his arm and said: “Where have you been? I searched everywhere for you!” Cheng smiled: “I am like a lone cloud or a wild crane – I have no fixed abode. I have been fortunate to remain healthy.” Zhou ordered wine and asked about the years apart, then suggested Cheng change out of his Taoist clothes. Cheng smiled but said nothing. Zhou said: “How foolish! Why abandon your wife and children like cast‑off shoes?” Cheng replied: “Not at all. If people will abandon me, what right have I to abandon them?”
When asked where he lived, Cheng said he was at the Shangqing Palace on Mount Lao. That night they shared a bed. Zhou dreamed that Cheng, naked, was lying on his chest, suffocating him. Startled, he asked what he was doing, but Cheng did not answer. Zhou woke with a start and called for Cheng – no answer. He sat up and felt around but found nothing. After a long while, he realized he was lying in Cheng’s bed. Shocked, he cried: “I wasn’t drunk last night – how did I end up like this?” He called for his servants, who brought a light. There, reflected, was Cheng’s face! Zhou had always had a thick beard; he stroked his chin and felt only a few sparse hairs. When he looked in the mirror, he was stunned: “Cheng is here – where am I?”
Then he understood: Cheng had used magic to summon him. He wanted to return to his own quarters, but his younger brother, seeing his changed appearance, would not let him in. Zhou could not explain himself. He ordered a horse and set off to find Cheng.
After several days, he reached Mount Lao. His horse galloped ahead, leaving his servant behind. Zhou rested under a tree, watching many Taoist priests pass by. One of them looked at him, and Zhou asked about Cheng. The priest smiled: “I have heard his name. He seems to be at Shangqing.” Then he left. Zhou watched him walk away; at a distance of about a hundred yards, the priest spoke to another man, exchanged a few words, and went on. The man he had spoken to approached – and turned out to be a former classmate. Seeing Zhou, he exclaimed: “We haven’t met for years! People say you’ve gone to the mountains to study the Way – so why are you still wandering the mortal world?” Zhou told him of his strange transformation. The classmate was surprised: “I just met him, and I thought it was you! He can’t have gone far.” Zhou was astounded: “How strange! Why couldn’t I recognize my own face when I saw it?” His servant caught up, and they rode on, but found no trace. The landscape stretched endlessly, and Zhou felt lost. He decided he had no home to return to, so he resolved to press on. The paths grew too steep for horses, so he sent his servant back with the mount and continued on foot.
In the distance, he saw a young boy sitting alone. Zhou approached and asked directions, explaining his quest. The boy said he was Cheng’s disciple and offered to carry his belongings and guide him. They travelled by starlight and slept in the open, walking a great distance. After three days, they arrived – but it was not the Shangqing of mortal geography. Though it was mid-autumn, flowers lined the road as if spring.
The boy announced the guest, and Cheng emerged. Only now did Zhou recognize his own body in Cheng. They clasped hands and entered, where wine and conversation flowed. Strange, colourful birds, as gentle as pets, sang like flutes and perched near the guests. Zhou marvelled at it all, but his worldly attachments still gripped him. Cheng laid out two meditation mats and made Zhou sit with him. By midnight, all worldly thoughts had faded, and Zhou felt himself doze off. When he woke, he found that he and Cheng had swapped bodies again. He stroked his chin – his thick beard was back.
At dawn, Zhou longed to return home. Cheng tried to keep him, but after three days, Cheng said: “Rest a while, and I’ll see you off in the morning.” No sooner had Zhou closed his eyes than he heard Cheng call: “Your things are ready.” He rose and followed. The road was unfamiliar. Before long, his hometown came into view. Cheng waited by the roadside and told Zhou to go on alone. Zhou insisted Cheng come with him, but Cheng refused. Zhou walked dejectedly to his door. He knocked but no one answered. He decided to climb the wall – and found himself floating over it like a leaf. After crossing several walls, he reached the bedroom. A lamp flickered; his wife was not asleep but murmuring to someone. Peeping through the window, he saw her drinking with a servant, behaving intimately.
Rage flared within him. He planned to catch them red‑handed, but feared he was no match. He slipped out and ran to Cheng, begging for help. Cheng agreed at once. They went straight to the bedroom. Zhou pounded the door with a stone; inside, panic erupted. He hammered harder, but the door held. Cheng drew his sword and sliced it open. Zhou rushed in – the servant bolted, but Cheng cut off his shoulder and arm with a single stroke. Zhou seized his wife and interrogated her; she confessed that she had taken the servant as a lover the very day Zhou was arrested. Zhou took Cheng’s sword, beheaded her, and hung her entrails on the courtyard tree. Then he followed Cheng out, seeking the path back.
Suddenly, he woke – he was lying on his bed. Startled, he cried: “What a strange, terrifying dream!” Cheng smiled: “You take the dream for real, and the real for a dream.” Zhou was dumbfounded. Cheng showed him his sword, still stained with fresh blood. Zhou was horrified and suspected Cheng was using illusions to deceive him. Sensing his doubt, Cheng hurriedly packed and saw him home. As they neared the village gate, Cheng said: “Wasn’t this the place where I waited for you with my sword that night? I hate to see filth and corruption – I’ll wait here for you. If you don’t return by sunset, I’ll leave.”
Zhou entered his home – it was desolate, as if no one lived. He went to his younger brother’s house. His brother, seeing him, burst into tears: “After you left, bandits came at night and killed your wife, cutting out her entrails – it was horrible. The authorities haven’t caught them.” Zhou, as if waking from a dream, told his brother the truth and warned him not to pursue it. His brother was stunned for a long time. Zhou asked about his son, and an old nurse brought the child. Zhou said: “This little one is the continuation of our line. Take good care of him, brother. I am leaving this world.” He rose and walked away. His brother wept and tried to hold him back, but Zhou only smiled and went on. In the open fields, he met Cheng, and they walked together. Looking back, Zhou said: “To endure hardship is the greatest joy.” His brother tried to speak, but Cheng waved his wide sleeve – and vanished. The brother stood for a long while, then wept and returned home.
Zhou’s younger brother was honest but not skilled at managing the household. Over the years, the family grew poorer. Zhou’s son grew up, and since they could not afford a tutor, the brother taught him himself. One morning, in the study, he found a sealed letter on the desk, addressed to him in his elder brother’s handwriting. Inside, there was nothing but a fingernail about two inches long. Puzzled, he placed it on the inkstone. When he went out to ask who had left it, no one knew. Returning, he saw that the inkstone had turned to glittering gold. Astonished, he tested it with copper and iron – they too turned to gold. Thus the family became immensely wealthy. He gave a thousand taels of gold to Cheng’s son, and from then on, it was said that both families possessed the art of transmuting base metals into gold.
Note
From Liaozhai, it depicts the loyal friendship between two scholars. Cheng risks everything to rescue wrongfully‑imprisoned Zhou. Later Cheng becomes an immortal, swapping bodies with Zhou and revealing worldly illusions before they transcend mortal life.
Wensheng (文登):
A county in Shandong Province, China, near the author Pu Songling’s native Zichuan. Many of his stories are set in the Shandong region.
“Mortar-and-pestle friendship” (杵臼交):
A classical phrase for a deep and unwavering friendship between rich and poor, where social status does not matter – just as mortar and pestle are used together.
In his early years, Guan Zhong lived in straitened circumstances. He lost money in business ventures and was dismissed from official posts, landing in dire straits time and again. Though Bao Shuya enjoyed greater wealth and higher social standing, he fully recognized Guan Zhong’s talent. Instead of looking down on him for his destitution, Bao Shuya gave him his full support and recommendation, laying the foundation for the hegemony of the State of Qi. Despite their vast gap in wealth and fortune, the two men understood and cherished one another deeply.
Injustice and corruption:
The story vividly depicts the corruption of the Qing legal system: false accusations, bribery, judicial torture, and perversion of justice. This reflects a common theme in Liaozhai – criticism of official abuse.
Mount Lao (劳山):
A famous Taoist sacred mountain in Shandong, often associated with immortals and magical practices, notably The Taoist Priest of Laoshan.
Shangqing Palace (上清宫):
A Taoist temple on Mount Lao, associated with the Shangqing (Supreme Clarity) school of Taoism, which emphasizes meditation and inner alchemy.
Identity swapping and illusion:
The story explores the Buddhist/Taoist theme of the illusory nature of identity and physical form. Cheng’s magic causes Zhou to experience being in another body, a common motif in Taoist tales.
Cheng’s Taoist appearance (黄巾氅服):
A yellow headscarf and Taoist robe – typical attire for a Taoist recluse, symbolising his complete withdrawal from worldly life.
The fingernail turning to gold:
This finale reflects the Taoist “art of point-transmutation” (点金术) – a legendary ability to turn base metals into gold, symbolising spiritual achievement and the transcendence of material concerns.
Thematic notes:
- The story contrasts the corrupted, unjust “mortal world” with the pure, transcendent “immortal realm” represented by Cheng’s path.
- Zhou’s initial hesitation to leave his wife reflects his worldly attachments, which ultimately prove hollow (she betrays him).
- Cheng’s sacrifice and friendship – risking everything to save Zhou – are the emotional core, showing that true loyalty transcends worldly power.
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