If you have read “Spouting Water,” the eerie tale from Pu Songling’s Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, you might have wondered: Is the protagonist, Mr. Song Yushu, a real historical figure? Did his mother truly die at the hands of a water‑spouting ghost? Or is the entire story pure invention – a simple piece of supernatural fiction with no basis in reality?
The answer is a fascinating mix of historical fact, literary embellishment, and biting political satire.
The Real Song Yushu: A Scholar, Not a Ghost Victim
Song Yushu did indeed exist – but his real name was Song Wan (宋琬, 1614–1673), courtesy name Yushu. He was a native of Laiyang, Shandong Province, and a jinshi (the highest imperial examination degree) in 1647, during the early Qing dynasty. He was a renowned poet, counted among the “Eight Great Poets of the Early Qing.” Many details in Pu Songling’s story align with historical records: Song Wan served as an official in the capital and, like other Han Chinese officials of his time, lived in rented accommodation in the desolate outskirts of Beijing – a consequence of the Qing’s strict segregation policies and anti‑corruption laws, as discussed earlier.
However, the ghostly incident itself is almost certainly a fabrication – a piece of literary gossip pinned on Song Wan by Pu Songling.
A Contemporary’s Doubt: “His Mother Died in Infancy”
Wang Shizhen (1634–1711), a close friend and fellow poet of Song Wan, wrote a commentary on “Spouting Water” in which he remarked: “Since Yushu lost his mother while still in swaddling clothes, this story is likely based on hearsay and mistaken identity.”
Wang Shizhen, himself a Shandong native and a high‑ranking official, knew Song Wan personally. They exchanged poems frequently and moved in the same literary circles. If anyone could verify the truth, it was Wang. His statement strongly suggests that Song Wan’s mother had died long before the alleged haunting – so the tale could not have happened as described. It was simply a ghost story that someone attached to Song Wan’s name, perhaps because he was a famous figure of the time.
The Water‑Spouting Ghost: A Creature from Ancient Lore
So where did the idea of a ghoul that spouts deadly water come from? Pu Songling drew on a rich tradition of Chinese mythology, specifically the legendary creature called yù (蜮).
The yù – also known as the “shadow‑shooting insect” – was described in ancient texts such as the Book of Odes (Shijing), In Search of the Supernatural (Soushenji), Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhaijing), and Record of Broad Matters (Bowuzhi). According to the Baopuzi (a Daoist alchemical text), the yù is a water insect resembling a cicada, with wings but no eyes. It has exceptionally sharp hearing. When it detects a human voice, it shoots a jet of water from its mouth, like a crossbow. Anyone struck by the water – or even by the shadow of the spray – would develop sores and die. In winter, the creature buries itself in the soil, leaving no snow above its hiding place, and can be dug up just a foot deep.
In Pu’s story, the old crone who spouts water is clearly modelled after the yù – or, more precisely, she is a chang ghost (a victim turned into a subordinate spirit) that has been infected by the yù‘s poison. She lies buried in the courtyard, emerges when she hears human activity, and sprays her deadly fluid at the terrified women. The detail that her corpse is later found filled with clear water ties directly to the yù mythology.
“Spitting Blood at People” – A Metaphor for Slander
But why did Pu Songling choose to attach this gruesome tale to Song Wan in particular? The answer lies in a real‑life political scandal involving a relative of Song Wan – a man named Song Yibing (宋彝秉).
Song Yibing was Song Wan’s nephew, but he was the black sheep of the family – a degenerate gambler, womanizer, and local bully. In 1661, during a temple fair in Laiyang, Song Yibing insulted the wife of Yu Jiu, the younger brother of a rebel leader named Yu Qi (于七). Yu Jiu beat him soundly. Humiliated, Song Yibing travelled to the capital and falsely accused Yu Qi of plotting rebellion against the Qing court. The court, already nervous about anti‑Manchu resistance, sent troops to suppress Yu Qi’s family and followers. The crackdown escalated into a brutal massacre: tens of thousands of civilians were killed in the mountains of Yashan, the land was laid waste, and the region was devastated. Song Yibing, rewarded for his “loyalty,” was promoted and given all of Yu Qi’s property.
But Song Yibing did not stop there. Earlier, Song Wan had refused to use his influence to save Song Yibing from legal trouble, so the vindictive nephew turned on his own uncle. He accused Song Wan of colluding with the rebel Yu Qi. Song Wan and his entire family were arrested and imprisoned for three years (1661–1663). Only after an imperial investigator thoroughly examined the case and found no evidence of treason was Song Wan finally released and exonerated.
It is worth noting that Song Wan’s father, Song Yingheng (宋应亨), was a Ming‑dynasty hero who resisted the Qing forces. This gave rise to suspicions against Song Wan under the new Qing regime. In 1650, Song Wan was arrested and imprisoned because of his father’s anti‑Qing activities. He was exonerated three months later, released from prison, and reinstated to his official post.
Pu Songling’s Revenge Through Fiction
Pu Songling was deeply aware of this injustice. He despised Song Yibing and repeatedly referred to the “Yu Qi Rebellion” in his stories (such as “Gongsun Jiuniang” and “Wild Dogs“), using them to comment on the brutal suppression and its aftermath. In his view, Song Yibing’s false accusation was the very essence of “bloody‑mouthed slander” – the Chinese idiom hán shā shè yǐng (含沙射影), which literally means “holding sand in the mouth and shooting at shadows,” a phrase derived from the legend of the yù creature. It describes malicious, unfounded attacks on innocent people.
Thus, when Pu Songling wrote “Spouting Water,” he consciously framed the murderous ghost as a monstrous version of a slanderer – a creature that spits poison indiscriminately, destroying the lives of the blameless. By setting the story in Song Wan’s household, he was not recording a real haunting but crafting a scathing allegory: just as the water‑spouting crone killed without cause, so did Song Yibing’s lies destroy his uncle’s family.
Fiction as a Mirror of History
So, was Song Wan’s mother truly killed by a ghost? Almost certainly not. Was Song Wan a real person? Yes – a celebrated poet who suffered grievously from the treachery of his own kin. And did Pu Songling invent the story whole cloth? No – he wove together ancient folklore, a real historical figure, and a scandalous episode of betrayal to create a tale that is at once a thrilling ghost story and a sharp political commentary.
For Pu Songling, the supernatural was never just about scaring readers. It was a vehicle for exposing injustice, critiquing power, and giving voice to the voiceless. In “Spouting Water,” the real horror is not the grotesque crone – it is the cruelty of those who, like the yù, shoot venom from the shadows and destroy the innocent.
Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio is more than a collection of fantastic stories; it is a chronicle of its time, where ghosts and monsters often wear the masks of corrupt officials, malicious informants, and the moral decay of society. And that, perhaps, is the most terrifying truth of all.
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