The Mural

Meng Longtan, a native of Jiangxi Province, and a Juren by the name of Zhu (Note: a Juren was one who pasted the imperial examination at the provincial level) were visiting the capital together.

One day, they happened upon a monastery. Neither the prayer hall nor the meditation rooms were very spacious and only one elderly monk lived there. Seeing the visitors, the old monk straightened his robe and welcomed them in, then proceded to show them around.

In the hall stood a statue of the Zen master, Baozhi, while the walls on either side were painted with exquisite murals of lifelike figures. The painting on the east wall was that of the Heavenly Maidens Scattering Flowers. Among them was a smiling girl with long, flowing hair, holding a flower in her hand. Her cherry-like lips seemed about to open to say something and the liquid-pools of her eyes appeared to stir.

Zhu stood with his eyes glued on her for a long, long time. He began to fall into a trance and his body suddenly floated up as if carried by clouds, and then, he was inside the mural.

Here were endless halls and pavilions, quite another world from that of man. An elderly monk was seated on a dais preaching the Dharma, surrounded by a crowd of monks clothed in robes that left one shoulder bare. Zhu was among them.

After a while, he felt someone pulling furtively at the back of his garment. He turned around and saw that it was none other than the girl with the long, flowing hair. She threw him a smile, then turned and walked away. Zhu followed closely behind. After walking along a twisting pathway, the girl entered a small chamber. Zhu was hesitant, not daring to go further, much as he wanted to. The girl turned her head and beckoned to him with the flower in her hand, whereupon Zhu quickly stepped in. There was no one else in the quiet little room, so right away Zhu took her in his arms. And as she showed no sign of resistance, the two made love. When it was over, the girl left, carefully closing the door and warning him not to cough or make any noise. That night, she returned and they made love again. This went on for two days.

The girl’s companions sensed something was going on and searched her out. Finding her with Zhu, they teased her, “The little fellow in your tummy is so big already and you’re still wearing long hair, pretending you’re a virgin.” They brought hairpins and earrings and insisted the girl coil her hair up into a knot like a married woman.

Embarrassed and shy, the girl said not a word. One of her companions said, “Sisters, let’s not stay too long or somebody will be annoyed.” Then, giggling, they left the chamber. Zhu looked up at the black knot coiled high up on the girl’s head and the dangling phoenix earrings and was delighted to find her even lovelier than when she wore her hair long. As all the others had gone, the two were soon again in a warm embrace, and her intoxicating fragrance completely took hold of him.

Suddenly there was a heavy stomping of boots and clanking of chains outside, followed by the clamour of voices and loud arguing. Panicked, the girl rose and together they peeped out the door and saw an officer in heavy armour, his face black as lacquer, holding chains in one hand and a rod in the other, surrounded by the girls. The man in armour asked, “Are all of you here?” and the girls answered, ”Yes.” He then said, ”If any of you is hiding someone from the lower world, you’d better report it or you’ll bring trouble on yourselves.” To which the girls responded unanimously, ”None of us is hiding anybody.”

The man then turned around, his eyes searching like those of a hawk, obviously hoping to find the hidden man. Seeing this, the girl’s face turned ashen. She said to Zhu, “Quick, get under the bed!” Then she opened a small door in the wall and swished away.

Zhu lay flat under the bed, not daring to utter a sound. Very soon, he heard the sound of boots entering the room and then receding. A little later, the clamouring faded into the distance. Only then did he feel a bit safer, but as there were always people walking back and forth outside and talking, he could only stay hidden beneath the bed, his heart still in his mouth. After cringing there for a long while, he began to hear ringing in his ears and his eyes ached. It became almost unbearable. Yet all he could do was silently wait for the girl’s return, totally forgetting by now how he ever got here.

Back in the hall, his friend Meng Longtan was puzzled when he found that Zhu had suddenly disappeared. So he asked the old monk. The monk said with a smile, “He’s gone to listen to the Dharma.”

“Where?” asked Meng. “Not far,” said the old man. Then after a while, the old man softly tapped the wall with his finger, calling, “Haven’t you loitered there long enough, Patron Zhu?”

Immediately the image of Zhu appeared in the mural, cocking his ear as if he heard something and wanted to hear more. The old monk went on. “You’ve kept your companion waiting for a long time.”

At that, Zhu floated off the mural and back onto the ground, standing there like a block of wood, his eyes staring blankly ahead, his legs wobbling, his heart dead as burned out ashes. Greatly shocked by what he saw, Meng Longtan pressed him for an explanation while trying to keep his composure. What
happened was that while crouched under the bed, Zhu heard a thunderous knocking, so he came out of the chamber to hear it more clearly. When the two men turned toward the mural to look at the girl with the flower in her hand, they found she no longer had long, flowing hair but wore her hair coiled high on her head.

Amazed, Zhu bowed before the old monk and asked why this was so, to which the old monk replied with a laugh, “Illusion is born in the mind. How can a poor monk like me give you an explanation?”

Finally, with Zhu looking despondent and downcast and Meng in shock and confusion, the two walked slowly down the steps and out of the monastery.

The Chronicler of the Tales had this to say: ”Illusion is born in the mind. These sound like the words of one who has found the Dharma. A man loose in morals will have illusions of lustfulness; when the mind is occupied by lust, it gives rise to a frightful illusion. The Bodhisattva teaches the ignorant that all illusions, however varied, are the workings of one’s own mind. However, despite the earnestness of the old monk’s words, the youth failed to gain enlightenment and go off to the mountains, with hair unbound, to seek the Dharma.”

Allegorical Meaning

The story operates as a metaphysical exploration of how illusion and reality intertwine through human perception and desire.

When scholar Zhu enters a temple mural and experiences a passionate affair with a celestial maiden, only to later discover his physical body remained seated in the temple, Pu Songling reveals:

Human consciousness constructs reality. Zhu’s journey–triggered by his erotic fascination with the painted maiden–demonstrates how desire materializes subjective worlds, blurring boundaries between art/life, mind/matter.

Art as a Portal to the Psyche

The mural symbolizes art’s power to activate subconscious realms. Entering the painting mirrors how humans project desires onto art (e.g., Zhu eroticizing a static image).

Buddhist undertone: The maiden scattering flowers evokes sowing karmic seeds–Zhu’s lust plants the cause for his illusory suffering.

The Seduction and Peril of Escapism

Zhu’s prolonged stay in the mural-world reflects addiction to fantasy. His “marriage” and bureaucratic post within the painting satirize worldly attachments (fame, romance) as equally illusory.

The moment he faces divine punishment (when celestial guards pursue him) mirrors the inevitable collapse of self-deception.

Existential Duality: Creator vs. Prisoner

Zhu simultaneously creates and is trapped by his fantasy. This paradox reflects:

• Buddhist thought: All phenomena are temporary fabrications (all dharmas are illusory).
• Confucian critique: Zhu neglects his scholarly duties for sensual pleasure, warning against abandoning social responsibility for dreams.

Key Philosophical Conclusion

The story’s closing scene–where the maiden’s painted image now wears a maiden’s hairpin instead of her former girlish locks–proves Zhu’s experience “changed” the artwork. This visual twist confirms: Reality is malleable through perception. What we call “real” is co-created by mind and world. Like Zhu, humans dwell in self-fashioned prisons of desire, mistaking mental projections for truth.