Scholar Qiao of Jinning was hailed as a genius at an early age, but was still frustrated and unrecognized in his twenties. He was a man of chivalrous qualities.
He was close to a scholar named Gu, and when Gu died he gave frequent aid to his wife and children. When the district magistrate, who had prized his talent, died in office, leaving the members of his household stranded far from home, the scholar liquidated his holdings to escort the coffin of the deceased to his hometown, which entailed a round trip of nearly a thousand miles. This gave the scholarly community an even higher opinion of him, but it also furthered the decline of his family’s fortunes.
Master of Letters Shi had a daughter with the soubriquet Liancheng who was skilled at embroidery and well-read in books. Her father pampered her with affection. He brought forth a tapestry done by her needle entitled “Weary With Embroidery”and invited young men to write poems about it, intended as a means to select a son-in-law. Scholar Qiao presented a poem which read：
The languid coils of her chignon
Are tumbled waves of darkest shade；
By morning’s orchid window light
Lily pads of green thread are made.
But a linking lovebird pattern
Disturbs the calm that time allows,
Her needle pausing furtively
She pouts and knits her mothwing brows.
With nimble stitch of colored thread,
She turns to life for ber designs；
The scene is filled with birds and blooms
And all are formed to nature’s lines.
No special skill was used to make
The brocade legends tell us of
T’was the palindromic poem thereon
That won the monarch’s love.
The girl was delighted with the poems and praised them to her father, but he objected to the scholar’s poverty. The girl spoke highly of the scholar to everyone she met and even sent an old woman with money to help him buy lamp oil for reading, ostensibly upon instructions from her father. The scholar sighed, “Liancheng is the one person who truly knows me!” His heart inclined toward her, and his thoughts were tied to her as those of a starving man are to food.
But soon the girl was betrothed to Wang Huacheng, the son of a salt merchant. The scholar finally lost hope, but his dreaming soul still attached to her.
Before long the girl was stricken so badly with consumption that she could not rise. An ascetic from the Western Regions claimed that he could heal her, if only he had a tenth of a tael of flesh from a man’s chest to grind up and mix with other medicinal powders. Master Shi sent a man to the Wang house to notify his son-in-law, who laughed and said, “Foolish old man! He wants me to slice away the flesh that covers my heart.”
After the messenger returned, Shi announced: “I will give my daughter’s hand in marriage to the man who can part with this bit of flesh.” Hearing of this, the scholar went to Shi’s house. He drew out a keen blade, sliced his chest and handed the flesh to the monk. Blood soaked his robe and trousers, but finally stopped when the monk applied a compress. The monk compounded three pills. After three days, when she had taken all the pills, the girl’s disease was healed in an instant.
Shi let Wang know that he intended to keep his promise. Wang was infuriated and threatened to take his case to the authorities, so Shi invited the scholar to a feast and, spreading one thousand taels of gold out on the table, said, “Please accept this as payment for the great debt of gratitude I owe you.” Then he explained his reason for going back on his word.
The scholar replied indignantly: “I did not grudge the flesh from my chest, because I wanted to show appreciation for one who truly knows me. Do you think I want to sell my flesh?” He walked out with a disdainful flourish of his sleeves.
Hearing of this, the girl felt unbearably sorry for him, so she entrusted the old woman to go comfort him and let him know her feelings.
“With his genius he will not be frustrated for long,” the girl added. “Why should he worry that there is no beautiful woman for him in this wide world? My ill-omened dreams foretell that I will die within three years. He need not fight for someone who already has one foot in the grave.”
The scholar told the old woman: “A man of honor gives his life for the one who knows him, not because of sexual attraction. My real fear is that Liancheng may not recognize my worth. If only she does, our union could fail to work out and I still would not care.”
The old woman conveyed the girl’s soul-baring vows of faithfulness.
“If she truly feels that way,” said the scholar, “She should smile at me next time we meet. Then I could die without regrets!”
The old woman left. Several days later the scholar happened to go out and meet the girl as she returned from her uncle’s house. He looked at her intently. Her limpid eyes turned in his direction, and her mouth parted winningly. The scholar exclaimed joyfully: “Liancheng is the one who truly knows me!”
Just when the Wang family came to discuss an auspicious day for the wedding, the girl had a relapse. Within a few months she was dead. The scholar went to mourn her and collapsed in anguish. As Shi was having him carried home, the scholar was well aware of his own death but did not feel upset. He walked out of the village, but still hoped to see Liancheng again. In the distance he saw an antilike line of people. walking on a north-south road, so he mingled in among them. Soon he came to an office building, where he encountered Scholar Gu, who asked in surprise: “What brought you here?” He grabbed Scholar Qiao’s arm and started to escort him back.
With a heavy sigh Qiao said, “What has been weighing on my mind is far from resolved.”
“Quite a lot of responsibility has been delegated to me since I began handling documents here,” said Gu, “I will not hesitate to do anything within my power for you.”
When Qiao asked about Liancheng, Scholar Gu led him around from place to place until they saw Liancheng and a white-robed young woman sitting in the corner of a veranda, their eyes forlorn and wet with tears. Seeing Scholar Qiao arrive, Liancheng leapt up with apparent pleasure and inquired into the manner of his coming.
“Now that you have died, how can I go on living?” answered rite scholar.
The tears rolled down as she said, “I behaved like such an ingrate and still you did not spurn me. Why should you sacrifice your life for me? It is impossible to give myself to you in this life: I want nothing more than to promise my next life to you.”
The scholar told Gu: “You can go on about your business. I am glad for death and have no wish to live. But I would like to bother you to look up the locality of Liancheng’s next incarnation, so I can go there with her.” Gu left after promising to do so. The white-robed woman asked who the scholar was, so Liancheng told her the whole story. The sadness of it seemed to overwhelm her as she listened.
“She and I share the same family name, Liancheng told the scholar.” Her youth-name is Binniang. She is the daughter of the prefect Shi of Changsha. We became close as we walked together on the road here.”
The scholar took a good look and found her to have a charming manner. He was about to ask more about her when Gu returned and congratulated the scholar, saying: “I already have everything worked out for you. I’m going to have the young lady follow your soul back to the world of the living. How would you like that?”
The two were overjoyed. They were about to take their leave when Binniang broke into loud sobs and said, “When you go, sister, where am I to turn to? If you are generous enough to come to my rescue, I will wait on you hand and foot.” Liancheng was distressed and at a loss, so she turned to ask for the scholar’s advice. The scholar begged Gu to give them further help, but Gu considered this too difficult and protested strongly that it could not be done. At last, worn down by the scholar’s pleading, he said, “I’ll give it my best, for what that’s worth.” He went out for the time it takes to eat a meal and returned, waving his hands and saying: “I told you so! I simply cannot do anything for you.”
Hearing this made Binniang break into plaintive, drawn-out sobs. She held fast to Liancheng’s arm, fearful of being left behind that very moment. They could do nothing but look at one another in silent despair. To see her wretched, forlorn countenance was enough to make a person’s heart ache. “Take Binniang away with you,” Scholar Gu said hotly. “Should any blame be incurred, I will accept it, even if it costs me my life!” Binniang happily followed Scholar Qiao out. The scholar worried about her going on such a long journey home without any companion. Binniang said, “I’ll go with you. I don’t want to go back to Hunan.”
“You are carrying your foolishness too far, said the scholar.” If you don’t go back, how can you be reincarnated? I’ll be going to Hunan someday, and will be pleased if you don’t run away from me then.” At that moment two old women walked by, carrying traveling papers for Changsha. The scholar commended Binniang to their care. They parted tearfully and left. Liancheng was hampered by lameness on the trip and had to take a rest after walking a little more than a third of a mile. They made more than ten stops before they saw the gate to their residential quarter.
Liancheng said, “I’m afraid complications may crop up after we come back to life. Please ask for my remains and bring them here. If I come to life in your house, nothing will happen that we might regret later.” This made sense to the scholar. Both of them headed toward his house. The girl shrank back timidly with fear and seemed unable to go forward, so the scholar stood waiting for her. “I’ve come a long way, and my arms and legs are shaking,” said the girl. “They won’t do what I tell them to. I’m afraid our intentions may not be realized. We should talk it over further. Otherwise, after we have regained our lives, how can we carry out our wishes?” She tugged him into a side chamber. There were a few moments of quiet and then Liancheng said laughingly: “Do you hate me?” The bewildered scholar asked the reason for this question. Blushingly, she replied: “I’m afraid our plans won’t work out and I’ll end up betraying you again. First let me repay your love with my ghostly body.” The scholar was overjoyed. They abandoned themselves to tender ecstasy. Since they were afraid to come to life right away, they dallied in the chamber for three days.
Then Liancheng said, “As the saying goes, ‘Even an ugly bride must eventually meet her in-laws.’ Staying here on pins and needles is not a long-term plan.” With this she urged the scholar to go in. The moment he reached the bier he revived suddenly. The stunned members of his family poured warm water down his throat. The scholar then sent for Shi. He asked to have Liancheng’s remains, claiming that he could bring them to life. Shi was glad to do as he asked. As soon as the girl’s body was carried into the room, she was seen to waken.
“I’ve already given myself to Master Qiao,” the girl told her father. “There is no reason for me to go home again. If anything happens to thwart me in this, my only alternative will be to die again!” Shi returned home and sent a maid to wait upon her.
When Wang heard of this, he drew up a statement presenting his position and bribed the magistrate, who then determined that Wang was the rightful husband. The scholar was close to expiring from indignation, but there was no help for it. When she arrived at the Wang house, Liancheng’s resentment was such that she would not eat or drink, but only begged that they allow her to die quickly. When she was left alone in her room, she tried to hang herself from a rafter with her sash. In a few days she had wasted away to the point of imminent death. Wang was frightened and sent her back to her father, who then had her carried back to the scholar’s house. Wang knew of this, but there was nothing he could do, so he let the matter rest.
After her recovery Liancheng often thought of Binniang and, owing to the difficulty of making such a long trip, she hesitated to send a messenger to inquire after her. One day a servant ran in to say: “There is a horse and carriage at the gate.” Husband and wife went out to look and found that Binniang was already there in their courtyard. It was a tearful, happy reunion. The scholar invited the prefect, who had escorted his daughter there personally, to come in.
“My daughter owes her renewed life to you, sir,” said the prefect. “She swears that she will marry no one else, so I have decided to go along with her wishes.” The scholar touched his head to the floor in gratitude as etiquette demanded. Shi, the Master of Letters, came too, and the two gentlemen confirmed their clan ties.
By the way, Scholar Qiao’s name was Nian and his soubriquet, Danian.
The Chronicler of the Tales comments: “Some may call it foolish for a man to commit himself to a woman when no more recognition than a smile has passed between them. But could the five hundred followers of Tian Heng have all been fools? From them we learn how highly men value those who recognize their worth, and what makes able, outstanding men rally around a leader without thinking of themselves. And yet, it would surely be tragic if a young man in all the splendor of his gifts could find nothing more in this vast world on which to pin his hopes for recognition than the smiles of a young beauty!”
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