28

Li Xiuqing Marries the Virgin Huang with Honor

It is often said that intelligent women are worthier than men. Since ancient times, there has been no lack of such women. I propose not to speak of the Empress Dowager Lü [d. 180 B.C.E.] of the Han dynasty, the Tang empress Wu Zetian, and others like them whose viciousness led to momentous consequences; nor shall I tell of Zhuang Jiang of Wei, Cao Lingnü, and other women of nonpareil virtue. In the same vein, I shall not speak of Ban Zhao, Ban Jieyu, Su Ruolan, Shen Manyuan, Li Qingzhao, Zhu Shuzhen, and other literary figures of prominence any more than I will speak of Lady Feng of the Former Han dynasty, Lady Ren, Lady Xi, Princess Pingyang, Madam Liu (See The History of the Han Dynasty [Han shu] for more on Feng-shi, with the given name of Liao, and Ren-shi, wife of Cui Ning. See The Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government [Zi zhi tong jian] for more on Xi-shi, wife of Feng Bao, and Princess Pingyang, wife of Chai Shao. For more on Madam Liu, see The History of the Jin Dynasty [Jin shi].) and other courageous heroines and masterminds of ingenious strategies.¹ I shall tell only of bizarre, enigmatic pretenders to masculinity who lack the yang element—or, rather, true women who are in men’s disguise. The stories of their lives, while kindling admiration and a ection, also provide entertainment and inspire tributes of praise. Verily,

According to stories from Tang times, there lived in Suiyang of Henan Prefecture a young woman by the name of Mulan [Magnolia], whose father was called into military service at the frontier. Feeling sorry for her ailing father, she donned men’s clothing and went in her father’s stead. Clad in armor, with a helmet on her head, lance and dagger-axe in hand, and bow and arrows hanging from her waistband, she fulfilled her night patrol duties, ate her meals in the full force of the winds, slept on grass, and endured hardships of every description. When she returned home ten years later upon the expiration of her term of service, she remained a virgin. Not one of the tens of thousands of soldiers at the frontier had any inkling of her true identity as a woman. A poet of later times had these words of praise for her:

I shall now tell of another woman, by the name of Zhu Yingtai, who was a native of Yixing in Changzhou. From an early age, she was given to the pursuit of learning. When she heard that Yuhang was where civil arts flourished the most, she expressed her wish to pursue her lessons there. But her brother and sister-in-law objected: “In the old days, upon reaching the age of seven, boys and girls were no longer allowed to share the same seat and the same dining table. How preposterous for a sixteen-year-old like you to travel around and get mixed up with men!” (Point well taken.)

Yingtai replied, “I have a better idea.” Putting a cap on her head and a belt around her waist, she dressed herself up as a man. Even her brother and sister-in-law failed to recognize her when she walked up to them in her new attire.

It was the beginning of summer when Yingtai was ready to set out on her journey. She plucked a branch of blooming pomegranate flowers and, planting it in a flowerbed, prayed to heaven in these words: “As I, Zhu Yingtai, am about to go on a journey for the pursuit of my studies, I pray that this branch will take root and grow leaves every year as long as my good name and chastity remain unsullied. Should anything dishonorable happen to tarnish the family reputation, may this branch wither and die.” With this prayer, she crossed the threshold and went on her way, calling herself Master Zhu the Ninth.

She came to cultivate a friendship with a man by the name of Liang Shanbo, a native of Suzhou. The two studied at the same school and, out of mutual a ection and respect, swore an oath of brotherhood. For three years thereafter, they ate together during the day and slept in the same bed at night, without Zhu Yingtai’s ever taking o her clothes. There were several times when the puzzled Shanbo asked her a few questions, but each time she got by with evasive answers. Their studies completed by the end of three years,

they took leave of each other and went their separate ways home, but not before Yingtai made Liang Shanbo promise to visit her in two months’ time.

As it was again the beginning of summer upon her return, the pomegranate branch in the flower bed was heavy with flowers and foliage, which convinced her brother and sister-in-law of her unbesmirched purity. An immensely rich man named Ma in the Village of Peace and Happiness heard about the virtues of the ninth daughter of the Zhu family and asked a matchmaker to approach Yingtai’s brother, who readily gave his consent. The preliminaries were completed³ and the wedding ceremony was scheduled for the second month of the following year. The truth of the matter was that Yingtai was in love with Shanbo and was biding her time until his visit to reveal her plans. Little did she know that Shanbo was detained by some business at home. She did not presume to suggest postponement of the wedding, for fear that her brother and sister-in-law would suspect her motives.

It was not until the tenth month that Shanbo set out on his journey, six months late. Upon his arrival at the Zhu manor, he was told by a tenant upon his inquiry about Master Zhu the Ninth that there was no one by that name in the manor unless he meant Zhu the Ninth Daughter. Suspecting that something was amiss, Shanbo nonetheless submitted his visiting card, whereupon a maid appeared and led him into the main hall, where whom did Shanbo see but Zhu Yingtai herself in full womanly attire. Shanbo was astounded. Only then did he realize that Yingtai was a woman who had been disguised all along as a man. He reproached himself for not having been discerning enough to guess the truth. After an exchange of conventional amenities, he raised the subject of marriage. Yingtai declined, saying she had already been betrothed to Mr. Ma by her brother and sister-in-law. Bitter remorse swept over Shanbo for having come too late.

After Shanbo returned home, he pined away till he died in his sick bed as the year drew to a close. His parents buried him at the intersection leading to the Village of Peace and Happiness, as he had requested. The following year, as Yingtai’s wedding procession approached that intersection on its way to the Ma residence, there sprang up a savage blast of wind that darkened the sky, preventing the procession from moving on. As Yingtai raised her eyes, there wafted into her view Liang Shanbo himself, saying, “I died of lovesickness for you and am buried at this very spot. For old time’s sake, please step out of the sedan-chair and take a look.” As Yingtai did so, the ground split open with a loud bang, leaving a ten-feet wide gap, into which she threw herself. Her clothes, which followers in the procession tried to grab, flew o in pieces, like skin sloughed o by a cicada. The next moment, the sky cleared. The crack in the ground was found to be no wider than a thread, and the sedan-chair was seen resting right by Liang Shanbo’s tomb. Now the realization came that the two sworn brothers in life were now husband and wife in death. Eyes then turned to the floating pieces of Yingtai’s clothing, which changed into a pair of colorful butterflies. As legend has it, it was the spirits of the couple that had changed into the butterflies, the red one being Liang Shanbo, the black one Zhu Yingtai. The species multiplied and spread throughout the land and are, to this day, still called Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. A later poet left behind these words of praise:

There was another woman by the name of Huang Chonggu, a native of Lingqiong of Sichuan, who was as beautiful as she was clever and well versed in poetry. Both of her parents had died, leaving her with no relatives to turn to. When Prime Minister Zhou Xiang was inspecting the area, Chonggu disguised herself as a male scholar and presented to the prime minister the poems she had written. Zhou Xiang was so impressed with every poem and every single word in them that he appointed her assistant prefect. She proved to be a wise administrator and solved beyond a shadow of a doubt all the long-pending thorny court cases as soon as they were brought to her attention. She was appointed acting prefect and county magistrate many times. Her name having spread far and wide, she was held in awe by petty court clerks and in reverence by the common people. Zhou Xiang recommended her to the imperial court for an important appointment befitting her remarkable ability. Wishing to have Chonggu as his son-in-law, Zhou Xiang even asked the prefect to act as the matchmaker. To these o ers, Chonggu smiled but held back any answer. While she was having an audience with him, Zhou Xiang made the o ers again, whereupon Chonggu asked for paper and a pen and composed a poem, which she handed to the prime minister. The poem is as follows:

The prime minister was aghast. Further questioning left him with no doubt as to her gender. It being an o ense against decency for a woman to pose as a man, the whole matter could hardly be publicized. Chonggu resigned from her post as she was told to do, lived in seclusion outside the city wall, and married a scholar chosen for her from the same district. Later, the scholar attained the jinshi degree through examinations and gained exalted office, and Chonggu was repeatedly granted noble titles. However, according to the play “The Story of Spring Peach”⁴ currently being staged, Huang Chonggu won the honor of becoming a woman zhuangyuan, but that is sheer exaggeration. A poet of later times had this to say of her:

The stories you have just heard are, without exception, about women of previous dynasties. I shall now tell a story that took place in recent times during the Hongzhi reign period [1488–1505] of the great Ming dynasty. There lived in Shangyuan County of Yingtian Prefecture, Nanjing, a man by the name of Huang, who made a living by selling incense sticks and other miscellaneous items, traveling around in the region north of the Yangzi River. Observing his fairness in doing business, the local people called him Honest Huang. His household consisted of a wife and two daughters, the elder of whom was named Daocong, the younger one Shancong. Daocong having been married to Zhang the Second of the Green Creek Bridge district in the same city, only Shancong, twelve years of age, stayed at home. Their mother was seized with a sudden illness and died. The funeral over, it was necessary for Honest Huang to set out on another business trip north.

He thought to himself, “I fear for my unbetrothed young daughter’s safety if she is left alone in the house with no company. It would not be proper to leave her with her brother-in-law, either. On the other hand, if I give up the business that I have come to know well, where can I find the money to support us?” Turning his mind this way and that, he could not decide whether to leave or stay. Orders for his merchandise had already been made, but he was still at a loss what to do about his daughter. After giving much thought to this problem for days, he hit upon an idea: “That’s it! Since I’ll have no company on my journey, why don’t I dress her up as a boy and take her with me? I’ll think of another way out after she grows up. There is one catch, though. My patrons up north all know that I do not have a son. If I take the child along and then give way under their questions, wouldn’t I be held up to ridicule? I’ll just say that she is a nephew of the Zhang family, out on the journey as an apprentice. That shouldn’t stir up any suspicion.” His mind thus made up, he got his daughter’s consent and made a boy’s robe and socks, which he then put on her. In this outfit, complete with a cap on her head, she became indeed a fine boy to look upon. Truly,

Honest Huang and his daughter, selling merchandise along the way, arrived by boat in Luzhou Prefecture north of the [Yangzi] river and lodged in an inn. Impressed with Shancong’s refined looks, the innkeeper was full of praise for the youngster and asked Huang, “How is this child related to you?”

“He is called Zhang Sheng and is a nephew of mine. Since I have no son, I am taking him along to let him get to know the patrons so that he can take over the business in the future.” No one took the explanation amiss. Every day, Honest Huang went out to attend to his business, dispatching goods and collecting debts, leaving Shancong behind to watch over the single guest room that he had booked. In his absence, Shancong did not cast one undue glance around, nor did she walk one step too many. Her good behavior won her the hearts of all and sundry, and they all said Young Master Zhang was even more honest than his grandfather.⁵

As the proverb has it, “There are unexpected storms in nature, just as there are unforeseen vicissitudes in life.” Less than two years had gone by when Honest Huang fell ill in Luzhou and died after all attempts at treatment failed. With bitter tears, Shancong bought a coffin, put her father’s body in it, and placed the coffin, for the time being, in an old temple outside the city wall.

After much thought, she decided that as a young orphan girl, she could not very well wander from place to place. Now, staying in the guest room next to hers was a traveler, also in the incense trade, from her home prefecture. Convinced by her observations that he was a trustworthy young man, she asked him about his name and background. The young man replied, “I am Li Ying, courtesy name Xiuqing. Since childhood, I have been following my father on his business travels. Now that my father is too advanced in years to bear the hardships of a traveling life, he gave me the capital and made me take over the business.”

Shancong said, “I am Zhang Sheng. I came here with my grandfather. To my great sorrow, he died, leaving me with no one to turn to. If it is agreeable to you, I will gladly pledge brotherhood with you and enter into a business partnership so that we can have each other to fall back on.”

Li Ying agreed: “I could hope for nothing better.”

As Li Ying was eighteen years of age, Zhang Sheng’s senior by four years, Zhang Sheng honored him as elder brother. The two got along amicably. In their discussion a few days later, the brothers came up with the idea that it would be more efficient for the business if one of them went to Nanjing to sell goods while the other stayed in Luzhou to take care of dispatching goods and collecting debts. Shancong said, “I am too young. Moreover, I am too ashamed to return to my native town without being able to a ord to escort my grandfather’s coffin back. It would be better if you do the traveling to Nanjing.” Thereupon Zhang Sheng gathered together the capital and handed the money to Li Ying, who, in turn, entrusted Zhang Sheng with the ledgers and what was left of the inventory. On both sides of the business, they were fair and honest to the last penny.

Henceforth, all their luggage was stored together in one room. Every time Li Ying came to Luzhou, the two shared the same room, just as they shared the same dining table and the same bed at night. Much to Li Ying’s amazement, Zhang Sheng never took o any piece of clothing when he slept, not even his shoes and socks. Zhang Sheng’s explanation for this oddity was “I’ve had an ailment since childhood that makes me sensitive to cold. The moment I unbutton my underwear, I become violently ill. I’ve grown quite used to sleeping in my clothes like this.”

Li Ying shot another question at her: “Why is there a hole in each of your earlobes?”

“When I was a child, the fortune-teller my parents consulted said I was threatened by a predestined disaster. That is why they had my earlobes pierced [to pass me o as a girl].”

Being the trusting person that he was (He was indeed!), Li Ying took her word for the truth. Not a doubt entered his mind. Zhang Sheng, for her part, exercised great caution to hide her identity. She never failed to wait until dark to use the lavatory, unobserved. Therefore, she did not betray herself in all the years she lived in this place, as these lines attest:

Thus, Huang Shancong plied her trade in Luzhou Prefecture under the pseudonym of Zhang Sheng. From the time she came to this place at the tender age of twelve, nine years sped by like an arrow, and, quite unnoticeably, she reached the age of twenty. Through her assiduous work in the last few years, she was now in possession of a goodly amount of cash. In these changed circumstances, her thoughts turned to her father’s coffin, which remained unburied in a town other than his native place, and to her sister, whom she had not seen in all these years. Moreover, her own future was by no means settled. With these considerations in mind, she told Brother Li Xiuqing about her wish to take her grandfather’s coffin back home for a proper burial. Li agreed, “This is an act of filial piety. But a coffin, unlike anything else, is too much for you to take care of by yourself. Let me go with you so that, as older brother, I won’t have to worry in your absence. We’ll come back together after the funeral is over.” Zhang Sheng thanked her brother for his kind o er.

That very night, they chose an auspicious day to start on the journey. When that day arrived, they engaged several monks for a sutra-chanting service to remove the spirit tablet that had been set up for the deceased. The coffin with the body of Honest Huang was then carried onto a hired boat. The boat set sail when the wind was favorable and stopped when the wind blew in the wrong direction, and arrived in Nanjing before many days had passed. They found a vacant house outside Chaoyang Gate and deposited the coffin there to await an auspicious day for the burial.

Let us skip unnecessary descriptions but come to the moment when Li Ying and Zhang Sheng were about to go their separate ways once inside the city gate. “Where is my brother’s home located?” asked Li. “I wish to pay you a visit sometime.”

“My family’s house is right by Green Creek Bridge on the Qinhuai River. I’ll be waiting for you to come have a cup of tea.” Thereupon they took leave of each other.

Being of the Huang family, how was she to know the way to her brother-in-law’s house? Fortunately, the Qinhuai River was not some obscure place but a well-known name that proved to be of great assistance in her quest for direction there. When she found herself by Green Creek Bridge, she asked again for the Zhang residence and stepped right into the house after a knock or two at the door.

It happened that her brother-in-law was not at home that day. As she walked straight in, her sister, Daocong, lashed out, “Every decent household has its inner quarters o limits to outsiders. What shameless rascal is this, charging straight into the inner quarters! Should the man of the house see you, you’ll be in for a hundred raps on your anklebone! Get out of my sight this minute!”

With great composure, Zhang Sheng made a bow and exclaimed with a broad grin, “Elder sister! Don’t you recognize your own brother?”

Her sister snapped back, “Glib-tongued scoundrel! I have no brother!”

Zhang Sheng continued, “Try to remember what happened nine years ago.”

“I don’t have to try!” retorted her sister. “My memory goes as far back as another nine years before that! My father had no son but just two daughters. My younger sister Shancong was taken by my father on a business trip north of the river to sell incense. They never came back, nor have they been heard of ever since. I don’t even know if they are dead or alive. Who are you to lay false claim to being my brother!”

“If you want to know about your sister Shancong, I am none other than she.” With these words, Zhang Sheng burst into loud sobs.

Her sister was still incredulous. “If you are, why are you dressed like this?”

“Before we set out, Father disguised me as a boy and claimed that I was Zhang Sheng, his nephew, following him on the trip to learn the business. All too unexpectedly, Father died of a sudden illness two years later. Though I did encoffin the body, I regret to say that I was too poor to escort it back home. There is an honest and upright man named Li Xiuqing who comes from the same place we do, with whom I vowed an oath of brotherhood and entered into a business partnership for lack of alternatives. Another six or seven years in the same place went by. I couldn’t make plans for a return journey until this year. And now here I am, back to visit you, my sister.”

“I see. Since you’ve been in business with a man for so many years, you must already be man and wife. As the proverb has it, ‘Honest people do nothing under the table.’ Why don’t you tie up your hair into a chignon with a circlet? You’ll look better that way. How shameful you look now, neither like a man nor a woman!”

Zhang Sheng defended herself: “I won’t hold the truth back from you, my sister. I’m still a virgin. How could I dream of bringing disgrace to the family by doing dishonorable things!”

Unconvinced, Daocong led her into a secluded room for a test behind closed doors. What, you may well ask, is this test like? This is how such a test is conducted: Put some fine dry ashes into a chamber pot. Have the woman to be tested pull down her lower garments and sit on the pot. Roll a sheet of tissue paper into a stick and poke it into the woman’s nose to induce a sneeze. The woman who has lost her virginity will have air pass through her lower body at the same time that air passes through the nose with the sneeze, thereby blowing the ashes in the pot. If still a virgin, the ashes will remain undisturbed. This is a test used in the imperial court in the selection of consorts for the emperors. Being born and raised in the capital, Daocong surely was not ignorant of the method. The test proved Shancong to be a virgin, just as she claimed. The two sisters fell on each other’s shoulders and wept. With all the haste she could muster, Daocong opened the family chest, from which she took out her own clothes for her sister to change into, after a bath in perfumed water. Shancong said, “ To tell you the truth, my sister, during all these years since I left home, I have never taken o my clothes and bared my body. Only now, in your presence, do I feel at ease.”

That night Zhang Er, after returning home, slept in another room at his wife’s bidding, leaving the sisters under the same quilt on the same bed, where they poured out their hearts and talked away the whole night, without so much as sleeping a wink.

The following morning, after she rose and did her toilette, Huang Shancong presented herself in her new attire to her sister and brother-in-law, to whom she extended greetings anew. Daocong was full of praise to her husband of her sister’s chastity. Her enthusiasm even extended to Li Xiuqing: “If he were not an honest man, how could my sister have maintained so many years of friendship with him?” Before these words were quite out of her lips, a cough was heard from outside the door, followed by the question “Anybody home?”

Huang Shancong recognized Li Xiuqing’s voice. “Please have my brother-in-law go out to meet him,” she implored of her sister. “I can’t very well see him in my present state.”

Daocong objected, “Since you’ve pledged brotherhood with him, and he is such a good man at that, there’s nothing wrong in your meeting him.” But Shancong turned bashful and refused to go to the door. Daocong was obliged to bid her husband to greet the visitor and to judge by the way he spoke if he was aware of the truth about Shancong. Without a moment’s delay, Zhang Er went out to receive the visitor. After the customary salutations, the two took seats—one as the host, the other as the guest of honor.

“I am Li Ying,” the visitor started by identifying himself. “I am here to visit my brother Zhang Sheng. May I ask how you are related to him?”

Zhang Er said, beaming with smiles, “I am a close relative of his. I’m afraid that you made a trip for nothing, because Zhang Sheng may not wish to see you today.”

“How is that possible? We are loving, sworn brothers, even though we don’t share the same surname. How can he refuse to see me when I am here today for the very purpose of fulfilling a mutual agreement?”

Zhang Er hastened to pacify him: “Please allow me some time to explain the reason behind this.” But Li Xiuqing would not listen and was in such a state of vexation that he was on the verge of an outburst of rage. A consternated Zhang Er scurried into the inner quarters and beseeched his wife to urge her sister to go forth to meet Li Xiuqing, but Shancong refused to budge, whereupon Zhang Er and his wife slipped away, but they sent someone to lead Li Xiuqing into the inner part of the house.

No sooner had Xiuqing caught sight of Huang Shancong than he recoiled several steps before even getting a clear view of her. Shancong said loudly, “Brother, do not hesitate. Please come forward for a talk.”

The voice reassured Xiuqing that he was looking at Zhang Sheng himself.

He stepped forward and asked with a bow, “My brother, why are you in these clothes?”

“It’s a long story,” said Shancong. “Please take a seat, and let me tell you everything.” With Li seated facing her, she gave a full account of the circumstances leading to her departure from home with her father at the age of twelve. “My heart overflows with gratitude for your help and support,” she continued. “However, as sworn brothers in the past, we are likely to come under suspicion for misdemeanor as man and woman. Therefore, this will be the last time we see each other.”

Xiuqing was struck speechless for a considerable time, all the while reproaching himself for being so blind as not to have known earlier that it was with a woman that he was sharing every moment of his life—day and night—for all those five or six years.

“Please listen, my sister,” he said. “We both know that we were greatly attached to each other during all these years. Let’s say no more about what has gone by. Now, since both of us are unbetrothed and of the right age, why don’t we put our brotherhood behind us and get married? Wouldn’t it be perfect for us to grow old together in a blissful matrimony without ever having to leave each other?”

Shancong flushed crimson with embarrassment and rose to her feet. “I took the liberty of seeing you today at the risk of incurring suspicion only because I thought you were an honorable man. But what you said is a violation of proper etiquette. Such a thought could not be further from my mind.” While heading for the inner quarters of the house, she continued, “Please go away now to avoid gossip.”

Dispirited by this lecture, Li Xiuqing returned home in a trance. Unable to bear the thought of losing Shancong, he asked a matchmaker to intercede for him with the Zhang family. Zhang Er and his wife were by no means averse to the marriage proposal, but Shancong was not to be shaken in her resolve. She said, “I cannot but try to hold myself above suspicion in a delicate situation like this. If I were to marry him, I’d be held up to ridicule and all my e orts at preserving my chastity during those seven years would be cast to the winds, even though no impropriety was ever committed.” (A woman moralist indeed! Truly respectable! Truly respectable!) No amount of dissuasion from the matchmaker and her sister could change her mind, but Mr. Li, on the other hand, was determined to have Shancong as his wife and pestered the matchmaker every day with requests to pass on his messages. This insistence annoyed Shancong greatly, but she firmly held her ground without even yielding so much as half an inch. In such circumstances, you may ask, could it be that the marriage was not to take place? Please read what unfolds in the next installment. Truly,

There are in this world three kinds of mouths that are more of a terror than all others: a scholar’s mouth in which there is a bitter tongue that lashes out at all and sundry; a monk’s mouth that takes in food everywhere he goes; and a matchmaker’s mouth that spreads gossip to all four corners of the earth. (Well said.) How, you may ask, does a matchmaker spread gossip? Listen to this song:

The extraordinary story about the virtuous Huang Shancong disguising herself as a man was spread through the matchmakers’ lips, house by house. One person would pass it on to ten and the ten to a hundred. In no time at all, there was no one in the capital who had not heard of it. Words of praise and admiration were on everyone’s lips. Even officials of exalted status, when their conversation turned to this story, would comment, “How remarkable!”

There was a eunuch, Grand Commandant Li, who did not believe what he heard. However, when investigations done at his orders bore out the story, he summoned Li Xiuqing, whose answers were all in accord with what had been told. He asked Xiuqing why he had set his mind upon Miss Huang while there was no lack of beautiful women in the whole wide world, to which Xiuqing replied, “I cannot bear the thought of abandoning those seven years of loving relationship. I have no desire for any other woman.”

Out of compassion for the young man, Commandant Li hid him in his tribunal. The following day, he summoned the matchmaker who had served Li Xiuqing and gave her the following instructions: “Go to Miss Huang, whose virtue, as I hear, commands respect, and seek her agreement for marriage to a nephew of mine. You will be rewarded if successful.” (There are no such welldisposed eunuchs, not even one out of ten.)

In those days, a grand commandant was a most influential official in the imperial court. Who would dare not comply with his wishes? The matchmaker returned to report that Miss Huang had given consent. Using his own money, Mr. Li paid for Xiuqing’s betrothal gifts and rented a vacant house, which he had Xiuqing move into quietly before he personally made his appearance and hosted the wedding ceremony, complete with bridal candles and a musical band.

When the bridal veil was lifted after the ceremony was over, the bride and groom could hardly contain their mirth upon recognizing each other. Knowing full well by now that she had fallen victim to Commandant Li’s trap, Shancong could not very well reverse the situation.

Mr. Li adopted Xiuqing as his nephew and bought lavish gifts for Shancong as her dowry. (Who else would be willing to do this?) He also notified the local authorities, in consequence of which all of the various government branches and the prefects sent contributions, partly in deference to Mr. Li, partly out of genuine good wishes for the remarkable couple. Xiuqing was thus made one of the wealthiest men in the city. (What a good deal! This is far better than selling incense.) The loving couple had two sons, one following closely upon the other, who grew up to be eminent scholar-officials. Some prying busybody composed out of all this a ballad titled “The Story of the Incense Seller.” There is a poem that bears witness:

There is another poem that specifically praises the fine qualities of Mr. Li the eunuch: