27

Gu Axiu Donates to a Nunnery with Joy

Cui Junchen Is Shown the Lotus Screen through a Clever Scheme

A poem goes thus,

Husband and wife are birds in the same woods;

At the fated hour, they fly their separate ways.

If a lost pearl is returned to Hepu,1

One rub will more than restore its luster.

Our story takes place in the Song dynasty. A low-ranking official named Wang, of Bianliang [present-day Kaifeng, Henan], went with his wife to Lin-an [present-day Hangzhou] to assume his new post. He rented a house from a local resident, but after a few days, he began to find the house small and the location inconvenient. So he went to a main street and found a spacious and clean house very much to his liking. He rented it then and there and, on returning to the old house, said to his wife, “I rented a very nice house. I’ll move everything there tomorrow and then hire a sedan-chair to take you there.” The next day, after they finished packing their trunks, Mr. Wang escorted the luggage to the new place, to unpack and get the house ready. Before he set out, he said to his wife, “I’m off now. You wait here. The sedan-chair will be back to pick you up.”

After leaving these words of instruction, he went to the new place and got everything ready before he hired a sedan-chair and told the carriers to go to his old address to pick up his wife. After waiting for the longest time without seeing his wife approach in the sedan-chair, Mr. Wang grew anxious and returned to the old address to make inquiries. The landlord told him, “Soon after you left, a sedan-chair came to pick up your wife, and she got in. Then another sedan-chair came for her. (MC: Could his wife have been in collusion with the abductors?) I told the two carriers that your wife had already gone with another sedan-chair, so they went away with an empty chair. Hasn’t she arrived?”

Mr. Wang was appalled. When he returned to the new place to see if she was there, he ran into the two sedan-chair carriers. Demanding payment, they said, “We went to pick up your wife, but she had already left when we arrived. Although we didn’t carry her, you do need to pay the rental fee and for the labor.”

“It was your sedan-chair I hired. Why was there another chair that went ahead of you? And now I wonder where they carried her.”

“That we don’t know,” said the carriers.

Mr. Wang paid them several tens of copper cash and sent them away. His mind in turmoil, his temper short, he was at a loss as to what to do.

The next day, he went to the Lin’an prefectural yamen to report the case. The first landlord was summoned to the court, but his deposition was consistent with what he had told Mr. Wang the day before. Neighbors who were questioned all testified that they had seen her mount a sedan-chair. Then the two carriers of the empty chair were brought in. They said, “We carried an empty sedan-chair back and forth. Many people on the streets saw us. That’s all we know.”

There was little the prefectural judge could do but issue an order to bring the carriers of the first sedan-chair to court, but since none knew their names and addresses, searching would be like trying to scoop the moon from the surface of the sea. Mr. Wang’s wife had all too obviously been taken somewhere, but nothing could be done about it. Mr. Wang was consumed with grief. After he lost his wife, he did not marry again.

Five years later, Mr. Wang was appointed director of education of Quzhou, which was a part of Xi’an County [present-day Qu County, Zhejiang]. The county magistrate and Director Wang had frequent mutual visits. Once, when Director Wang was in the magistrate’s private quarters in the yamen for dinner, a cooked soft-shell turtle was served in the midst of their drinking. After eating two chopsticksful of the dish, Director Wang put down his chopsticks and broke down in sobs, his tears falling like strings of pearls.

In alarm, the magistrate asked what had brought him to such a state. Director Wang replied, “This dish reminds me of my deceased wife’s cooking. (MC: The turtle is to bring about his reunion with his wife.) That’s why I feel sad.”

“When did your wife pass away?”

“If she had died, I would have put it down to destiny. But when I was moving from one rented house to another in Lin’an, I told her that I would send a sedan-chair to pick her up, but some evil men preempted me and tricked her into getting into their sedan-chair. She took it to be the one I had sent and got in. I reported the case to the prefectural yamen, but nothing has been heard so far.”

The magistrate’s face darkened. “My concubine was bought with three hundred thousand copper cash from Lin’an, although she’s not a native of Lin’an. A while ago, I told her to prepare a meal for us, and so she cooked this turtle. I’m puzzled.” So saying, he left the table, went into an inner room where his concubine was, and asked her, “You’re not a native of Lin-an, so why were you brought here from Lin’an?”

Her eyes misting up, his concubine replied, “I was married. I was abducted and sold. I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want to bring disgrace to my husband’s name.”

“What is your husband’s name?”

“He is Wang So-and-so, a low-ranking official in Lin’an.”

The magistrate was so astonished that the blood drained from his cheeks. He went out into the reception hall and said to Director Wang, “Please come inside with me. Someone would like to see you.” Director Wang followed him inside.

A woman emerged as the magistrate called for her. The director recognized her to be none other than his lost wife. They fell into each other’s arms and broke into heartrending sobs.

“How did you come here?” asked Director Wang.

“While we were talking that night in that jerry-built rented house, someone must have overheard what you said about sending a sedan-chair for me. Soon after you left, a sedan-chair came to pick me up. I thought it was from you, so I packed and got in. As it turned out, they carried me to an empty house—I don’t know where—in which there were already two or three women. (MC: Better than if she were alone.) We spent the night there under lock and key. The next day, I was sold to an official in a government-owned boat. I knew it was a case of abduction, but I was afraid that if I told the truth, the scandal would put you in a bad light in your new post. So I had to swallow the humiliation until today. (MC: What a muddle-headed woman! That’s why she is in such a mess.) I never thought I would run into you here.”

The magistrate felt so apologetic that he sent word to the yamen’s sedan-chair carriers on duty outside, ordering them to carry Madam Wang to Director Wang’s official residence. Director Wang wanted to return the three hundred thousand cash to the magistrate (IC: Surely not another payment!), but the magistrate said, “I had a colleague’s wife as my concubine and never bothered to check her background carefully. I’m grateful enough that you don’t blame me. How could I dream of taking the money?” (MC: Just look on the three hundred thousand as payment for her services.) The director returned home thankfully. In their joyful reunion, their hearts overflowed with gratitude for the magistrate.

This is what had happened: Some ruffians of Lin’an thought that a nonlocal like Mr. Wang would be fair game, and after listening in on their conversation that night, they hatched a plot to abduct and sell her to an official in a government boat. Since the official was on his way to another prefecture to take up his new post, they thought they would never be found out. Little did they know that the official’s new duty station was Quzhou, where the abductee was to reunite with her husband five years later. It was, in fact, because the predestined bond between the husband and the wife was not meant to terminate at this time.

However, let me make one point clear: It is of course a good thing for a long-separated couple to reunite, like a broken mirror that is made whole again, but there is one drawback in the otherwise perfect ending: Madam Wang, albeit through no fault of her own, had allowed herself to be a concubine and had lost her chastity, after all. Nor was anything done to track down the abductors and seek justice. I have a better story, in which the protagonist, Cui Junchen, through a lotus-patterned screen, was reunited with his wife, who retained her chastity, and exacted revenge into the bargain. Gentle reader, please let me take my time and tell it to you. But first, listen to the “Song of the Screen with the Lotus Painting,” which gives you an outline of the story:2

As I write in grief on the lotus painting,

My blood and tears stain the screen.

The withered leaves and stems that pine away

Come across as broken lines on the silk.

As the fallen petals drift to the other world,

I wander about by my forlorn self.

As this poor woman wanders about,

Who will take care of my remains?

As this soul keeps roaming by the springs of the dead,

The lotus’s beauty comes through in the painting.

My grief, also coming through on the screen,

Can hardly bear the autumn rain and frost.

I would rather sail on the rivers and lakes

And serve the abbess in the blessed land.

The abbess is kind by nature;

Her compassion stands out among her peers.

The departed soul was eager to help;

The lonely widow received a guiding hand.

My husband, with his own hand,

Drew the lotus in its charming colors.

The broken roots caused the blossoms to wither;

The damaged seedlings died from lack of water.

The lotus seeds carry a bitter taste;

The lotus roots harbor lasting regrets. (MC: A lot remains unsaid in this poem.)

Han Yi is remembered for his mournful poem,3

And Wen Xiao for his union with Cailuan.4

The lotus is filled with tender feelings;

The lotus is not to be abandoned.

Luckily, the moon waxed full again;

May lovers never be driven apart!

Who will listen to my ode to the lotus?

Wedded couples, never turn against each other!

Look how pitiful the lotus is!

This song was written by Lu Zhongyang, a distinguished scholar of Zhenzhou in the Zhizheng reign period [1341–68] of the Yuan dynasty. You may well ask, why did he write this song? It was all because of what happened to an official by the name of Cui Ying, courtesy name Junchen. A native of Zhenzhou, he came from a rich family. He showed more than average intelligence from an early age and was a calligrapher and painter par excellence. His wife, Wang-shi, a ravishing beauty in the first bloom of her youth, was not only literate but also skilled in calligraphy and painting. This couple fit the ideal of “gifted youth and fair maiden.” They were indeed a perfect match, and they were most tenderly attached to each other.

In the year of Xinmao, the twenty-eighth year of the sixty-year calendar cycle [1351], Junchen obtained an official post, by hereditary entitlement, as marshal of Yongjia County in Wenzhou, Zhejiang. He set out with his wife on the journey to his duty station. A large boat from Suzhou, of the kind that usually has Hangzhou as its final destination, was moored by the Zhenzhou floodgate. The surname of the boat owner was Gu. After the rental formalities were over, the Cuis’ baggage was loaded onto the boat and the couple went on board with their servants and maids. They set off down the Yangzi River, to disembark at Hangzhou and transfer to another boat. On reaching Suzhou, the boat owner said to Mr. Cui, “Sir, this is my hometown. Could you please buy us some sacrificial money and other items to offer to the gods of the rivers and lakes?”

Junchen obliged him and gave him some money with which to buy whatever items he deemed necessary. After the ceremony was completed, the boat owner picked a pot of sacrificial wine and carried it into the Cuis’ cabin. Junchen had a page boy accept it and put it on the table so that he and his wife could warm the wine and enjoy some of it. Having grown up in an official’s family, Junchen knew nothing about the taboos for traveling on water. Quite carried away by the excitement of drinking, he took golden and silver wine utensils out of his trunk, to add to their enjoyment. (MC: A childish thing to do.) The boat owner, peeping in from the stern, saw this and felt the stirrings of greed.

It being the seventh month of the lunar year, the boat owner said to his patrons in the cabin, “Sir, madam, we need to take a rest, but it’s too hot at this bustling place. Shall we go farther down, to a cooler spot?”

Junchen remarked to his wife, “That’s a good idea. It’s so stuffy in this boat.”

Wang-shi replied, “But I wonder if it’s safe at night.” (MC: Wang-shi is the smarter one.)

“This is an inland waterway. We’re not out on the big river. What’s more, the boat owner is a native of these parts. He knows what will be good for us or not. What harm can there be?” And so he agreed that they travel farther down.

Suzhou is located on the border of Lake Tai, a vast lake that could rival any big river. Even government-run major waterways were not exempt from crime, let alone narrow inlets. Being a native of a region on the northern bank of the Yangzi River, Junchen knew only that the Yangzi River was haunted by bandits and thought that it would be quite different on the small inland waterways. Well, how was he supposed to know all the ins and outs of the matter?

Late that afternoon, the boat owner moored the boat by a reedy marsh. When evening was setting in, he stormed into the room, carrying a knife, and killed one of the servants. Appalled by the violence, Junchen and his wife kowtowed to the boat owner and begged for mercy, saying, “Please take everything but spare our lives!”

The boat owner countered, “I want things as well as lives!”

As the husband and wife kept kowtowing, the boat owner pointed his knife at Wang-shi and said, “You need not panic. I won’t kill you. But I’m not going to spare anyone else!”

Knowing he had no chance of survival, Junchen pleaded time and again, “Please take pity on this scholar and keep my corpse whole!”

“All right,” said the boat owner. “I’ll spare you from the knife. You just jump into the water! Now!”

Without waiting for Junchen to jump on his own, the boat owner picked him up around the waist and tossed him overboard with a plop. All the servants and maids were killed. Wang-shi was the only one spared.

“Do you know why you’ve been spared?” the boat owner asked Wang-shi. “It’s because my second son isn’t married yet. He’s working on a boat going to Hangzhou. As soon as he’s back, in a month or two, you’ll marry him. Now that you’re a member of my family, you just put your mind at ease. You’ll be treated well. There’s nothing to fear.” (MC: What if he turns out to be a lecher with designs on his daughter-in-law?) So saying, he began to take stock of the Cuis’ possessions and put them away.

Wang-shi had steeled herself for a fight to the death if he should attempt to rape her, but she felt somewhat relieved on hearing that announcement and said to herself, “I’ll wait and see what can be done later.”

Sure enough, from that day onward, the boat owner called her “Daughter-in-Law,” and Wang-shi feigned acceptance of the address. She was all obedience to him, doing miscellaneous household chores the way a daughter-in-law running a household serves her father-in-law. There was no chore she did not do, and she did everything well. Believing he had got himself a good daughter-in-law (MC: What does that impertinent boat owner know about women?), the boat owner treated her well and with sincerity. As a certain familiarity gradually grew up between them, he dropped his vigilance toward her.

More than a month went by in like manner, and the Mid-Autumn Festival, the fifteenth day of the eighth month, rolled around. The boat owner called his family members and the boatmen together and had Wang-shi set out a wine feast in the cabin so that everyone could enjoy the moon. When all the men were quite drunk and slumped every which way and the boat owner had also gone to sleep, Wang-shi was alone at the stern of the boat and heard the ear-splitting snores. By the light of the moon that illuminated the boat with the brightness of day, she peered intently into the cabin and saw everyone in deep slumber. She thought, “What better time than this to go? What am I waiting for?” Luckily, the boat was moored with its stern touching the shore. By maneuvering the boat slightly, she managed to leap onto the shore. By moonlight, she walked two or three li without stopping until she came to a watery expanse of reeds and wild rice plants that stretched as far as the eye could see. She peered intently and saw a small path through the growth of reeds. The reeds being tall, the mud slippery, her legs thin, and her feet small, she stumbled at every step and truly had a poor time of it. Afraid that she would be pursued, she dared not stop but picked her way forward as best she could.

As it grew lighter in the east, she began to take heart. Seeing the contours of a house looming in the midst of distant woods, she thought, “Good! There must be people there!” With all the haste she could muster, she went up to the house and saw that it looked like a temple. She was about to knock at the closed gate when she thought, “I wonder if those inside are monks or nuns. If a monk comes to open the gate and he happens to be a bad man and assaults me, won’t I have escaped from one misfortune only to land in another one? I shouldn’t make a rash move. It’s broad daylight now. Even if the boatmen catch up with me, I can call for help here. I have nothing to fear. I’ll just sit by the gate and wait until it opens.”

Soon she heard the bolt on the gate click. The gate opened, and out came a girl with a water bucket. Wang-shi said to herself in delight, “So this is a nunnery!” She went straight in.

The abbess came out to greet the visitor and said to her, “Where are you from, madam? What brought you to this nunnery so early in the morning?”

Unwilling to tell the truth to a stranger about whom she knew nothing, Wang-shi lapsed into falsehood, saying, “I’m a native of Zhenzhou, concubine of Marshall Cui of Yongjia County. His chief wife is a fearsome shrew and often beats me and yells at me. The other day, the master was on his way home from his duty station when his boat stopped nearby. It was the Mid-Autumn Festival yesterday, and they were viewing the moon when I was told to take out golden wine cups. My hands slipped, and the cups fell into the river. The chief wife got angry and vowed to do me to death. Since my life was at stake, I escaped while they were asleep.” (MC: She makes no mention of the crime out of fear that the nuns might know the criminals. Meticulous.)

“So you mean you can’t return to the boat. Your native town is so far away, and if you want another match, none is to be had on short notice. Now, what are you going to do all by yourself ?” As Wang-shi kept weeping, the abbess, impressed by her graceful manner, took pity on her in her misery and wanted to keep her at the nunnery. She said, “I have a word of advice. Tell me what you think of it.”

“I’m in such a mess, Your Reverence. Whatever advice you have, I’ll follow it.”

“This little nunnery is at an out-of-the-way place with few visitors. We count the wild-rice plants as our neighbors and the gulls and the egrets as our friends. It’s a really secluded place. Luckily, I have a couple of companions here. We’re all more than fifty years old. (IC: Important.) The several attendants we have are all honest and prudent. This old woman feels very much at home here, living the life of a nun. Now, you’re hounded by bad luck in spite of all your youth and beauty. Why don’t you renounce all desires, take the tonsure, and become a nun right here? Living in a nun’s cell with its crude bed and lamp, making do with simple food, and taking life as it comes will be better than serving a man as a concubine, suffering misery in this life and sowing the seeds of ill will in the next one.”

Having heard her out, Wang-shi bowed in gratitude and said, “Your Reverence’s acceptance of me as a disciple is the best outcome for me. What more would I want? Please let me take the tonsure. There’s no need to hesitate.” (MC: Her eagerness to take the tonsure stems from her wish to stay out of harm’s way.) Indeed, the abbess prepared the incense, sounded the chime, bowed to the Buddha’s image, and gave Wang the tonsure.

How sad that the county marshal’s wife

Ends up a novice serving the Buddha.

After she took the tonsure, the abbess gave her the Buddhist name Huiyuan. She bowed to the Three Precious Ones [Buddha, Dharma (the Law), and Sangha (the Ecclesia or Order)] and acknowledged the abbess as her tutor. After she was introduced to the other nuns, she settled down in the nunnery.

With her intellectual endowment as the daughter of a distinguished family, Wang-shi learned quickly. Within a month, she had gone through all the sutras and understood everything. The abbess began to hold her in great esteem. Recognizing her good sense, the abbess gave her a free hand in dealing with all matters of the nunnery, large and small, and never did anything without first consulting her. Because of all this, plus her forgiving nature and her softness and gentleness, everyone in the nunnery was favorably disposed toward her. Every morning, whether in bitter cold or in sweltering heat, she bowed to the image of the bodhisattva Guanyin a hundred times and silently stated what weighed on her mind. After her prayers were over, she spent her time confined to her cell. Aware of her own beauty, she did not want to cause trouble, so she refrained from showing herself in public without good reason. Outsiders hardly ever got to see her. (MC: What a remarkable woman!) More than one year elapsed in this way.

One day, two men came to the nunnery for a visit. Since they were donors who lived nearby and were known to the abbess, they stayed for a vegetarian meal. They had been taking a leisurely stroll and were passing the nunnery when they dropped by, so they did not bring anything with them to offer as a token of their gratitude. The next day, they came again and gave the nunnery a scroll of a painting of lotus blossoms by way of thanking the abbess for the meal. (MC: The villains are so stingy that they fob her off with a looted lotus painting. But this is an act of Providence.) The abbess accepted it and mounted it on a white screen.

On seeing the painting, Wang-shi examined it closely before asking the abbess, “Where does this painting come from?”

“It’s a gift from the donors who were just here.”

“What are the donors’ names? And where do they live?”

“They are Gu Axiu and his brother. They live right here in our county.” (MC: Now we realize her ingeniousness in withholding the truth from the abbess, in case the villains were in contact with the nunnery.)

“What do they do for a living?”

“They’re both boatmen working the rivers and lakes. They suddenly became rich recently. Some say their wealth comes from robbing their customers, but I have no idea if that’s true.”

“Do they come here often?”

“Only now and then. Not often.”

Having obtained all the answers to her questions and memorized the name Gu Axiu, Wang-shi picked up a writing bush and wrote the following ci poem on the screen:

In calligraphy, there is Zhang Chang of old;5

In painting, there is Huang Quan of more recent times.6

Of all drawn flowers, the lotus is most charming.

Who would have thought that its lovely colors

Would bring it such unjust ill fortune!

Its ethereal beauty gone, it lives a wretched life.

With no home of its own, it finds no sympathy.

In meditation by the white screen,

With our bond of this lifetime gone,

I long for a renewed bond in the life to come.

(To the tune of “Fairy by the River”)

The other nuns could read the sutras but were in fact not very accomplished in polite letters. On reading the poem, they took it as an attempt by Wang-shi to while away an idle moment by showing off her poetic talent. They had no clue as to the real reason behind her composition. As it turned out, this painting had been done by County Marshal Cui himself. It was one of the items looted from the boat.

Looking at the painting whose painter was dead and gone, Wang-shi was consumed with silent grief. Although she had learned something about the murderers’ identities, there was nothing she could do as a woman, and a nun at that. She kept the knowledge to herself and bided her time. As a matter of fact, because the wrongs she had suffered were to be redressed and her marriage bond had not been severed, something was going to happen.

In the city of Suzhou, there lived a man called Guo Qingchun. With his deep pockets, he was keen on cultivating the friendship of officials and literary gentlemen and had a soft spot for objets d’art. One day, he went on a tour of the nunnery and was impressed by the lotus painting as well as the poem that had been added to it in elegant calligraphy. Taking a great liking to the screen, he asked the abbess if he could buy it. When the abbess consulted Wang-shi, Wang-shi thought, “It’s my late husband’s work. I shouldn’t part with it, but my poem conveys a sense of the injustice done to us. If someone with a discerning mind feels intrigued by the innuendo and probes into the matter, the truth may be uncovered. (MC: Wang-shi herself possesses a discerning mind.) What good does the painting do if it stays in the nunnery? Let me advise Her Reverence to sell it to him!”

And so Qingchun bought the screen and took himself off in high glee.

At the time, there was a retired imperial inspector, named Gao Nalin, living in Suzhou. He was an avid collector of calligraphy and paintings. It was to please him that Guo Qingchun had bought the screen. When Qingchun offered it to Inspector Gao, the latter found it exquisite and accepted the gift. But in the rush of the moment, he did not stop to read the poem or the colophon but gave it to his page boy and told him to display it in the inner study. When he saw Qingchun off at the gate, he noticed a man carrying four scrolls of calligraphy in the cursive style with sales tags attached to them. Being a lover of calligraphy, he was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. So he called the seller to him for a good look at the scrolls. The man presented the scrolls to him with both hands. Mr. Gao took them, and what he saw is best described by this quatrain:

The style follows that of Huaisu,7

Fresh, forceful, and free of vulgarity.

If included in calligraphy master sheets,

It is worthy of the great “Jinshi lu.” 8

Mr. Gao commented, “Good calligraphy! Who wrote it?”

“I did, in imitation of the master’s style.”

Mr. Gao raised his head and, surprised by the man’s distinguished bearing, asked, “What’s your name? And where are you from?”

The man replied, tears springing to his eyes, “I’m Cui Ying, courtesy name Junchen, a native of Zhenzhou, where my clan has been residing for generations. I was appointed county marshal of Yongjia County as a hereditary entitlement, and I was on my way, with my wife, to my duty station when my own indiscretion led to the boat owner’s violence. He dumped me into the river, and I have no idea what happened to my wife and the family possessions. Luckily, having grown up by the river, I learned to swim at an early age. I stayed underwater for a long time until I thought he must be a good distance away. Then I rose to the surface and got to the shore. I went to a house and asked for help. I was drenched and penniless, but my host was all kindness. He gave me a change of clothing, served me wine and food, and let me stay the night. The next day, he gave me some travel money and said, ‘Since you’re a victim of robbery, you should report it to the authorities. But I’m afraid of being involved in the case, so I’m not going to keep you here.’ (MC: Yes, it is right to report a case of robbery to the authorities, but if, as a temporary host, he is afraid of being implicated, isn’t he in fact giving encouragement to the bandits?) So I asked the way into the city and filed a report at the Pingjiang Circuit [in present-day Suzhou] yamen. However, since I have no money, the officers didn’t make much of an effort. (IC: Clearly, there are robbers at work.) It’s been a year now, and nothing has been heard from them. In desperation, I eke out a living by selling my calligraphy, not to make any claims to being a good calligrapher, but just as a last resort. It was by pure chance that my poor writing came to your attention, sir.”

Having learned that he was an official reduced to his current circumstances because of a robbery, Mr. Gao felt his heart go out to the young man. Impressed by the latter’s good calligraphy and his refined and graceful manner, he decided to take the young man under his wing. He said, “Things having come to this, there’s little you can do about it. Would you agree to be a live-in tutor to my grandchildren before moving on?”

Joyfully, Cui Junchen said, “I have nowhere else to go in my distress. What a boundless blessing it is for me that you, sir, chose to help me out!”

Jubilantly, Mr. Gao led him into the study and laid out wine in his honor.

In the midst of the drinking, Junchen suddenly raised his head, and his eyes happened to rest on the lotus screen. (MC: Good plot element.) The sight reduced him to tears. In alarm, Mr. Gao asked, “Why does the lotus painting make you sad?”

“I won’t hold anything back from you, sir. This painting is one of my lost possessions, and it was done by me. I wonder how it got here.” He stood up for a closer look and saw the added poem on it. After reading it, he said with a sigh, “How very strange! The poem must have been written by my wife Wang-shi.”

“How do you know?”

“I recognize her handwriting. And the meaning of the poem also tells me all too clearly that she’s the author. Since it was obviously written after misfortune befell us, I think she must still be alive, and with the criminals. (IC: So he makes the connection.) If you, sir, can trace it back to its source, you’ll be getting to the bottom of the case.”

With a smile, Mr. Gao said, “I know where it comes from. I’ll surely hunt down the criminals for you, but keep this a secret for now!”

After they finished drinking, Mr. Gao had his two grandsons greet their new tutor and made sleeping arrangements for Junchen in the study. Henceforth, Junchen became a member of the Gao household, and there we shall leave him for now.

The next day, Mr. Gao quietly summoned the servant on duty and told him to bring Guo Qingchun to him. When Guo arrived, Mr. Gao asked him, “About the lotus screen that you kindly offered me as a gift, where did it come from?”

“I bought it from the nunnery outside the city.”

Mr. Gao took note of the location, bade Qingchun good-bye, and sent the servant on duty to the nunnery. As the servant asked probing questions as to the provenance of the screen and the author of the poem, Wang-shi had a hunch that something was afoot. Upon her advice, the abbess asked the servant, “Who wants answers to these questions? And why?”

The servant replied, “The painting is now with Inspector Gao. It was he who sent me to find out more about it.”

Wang-shi thought that since the questions came from an official, she might have a chance. (MC: She always keeps her eyes open.) So she asked the abbess to reply, truthfully, “This painting was donated by Gu Axiu who lives in this very county, and the poem is by our novice Huiyuan.”

On receiving the servant’s report, Mr. Gao thought, “I only need to have Huiyuan brought here to get to the bottom of all this.” He went to the inner quarters of the house and worked out a plan with his wife.

Two days later, Mr. Gao dispatched another servant as well as a sedan-chair and two carriers to the nunnery. The servant said to the abbess, “I’m Inspector Gao’s butler. Mrs. Gao likes to read Buddhist sutras, but she wants a companion in that exercise. Having heard about the accomplishments of Novice Huiyuan in your honorable establishment, she’d like to respectfully acknowledge the novice as her teacher and ask her to live in the Gao residence. Please don’t decline the offer.”

The abbess hesitated. “She makes all the decisions in this nunnery. We can’t do without her.”

Wang-shi heard the Gaos’ invitation. With revenge on her mind, she had a good notion to visit some official and find an opportunity, and she was already intrigued after learning the other day that the person who had asked probing questions about the lotus screen was from the Gao residence. (MC: She has a mind that embraces the minutest details. It’s a good thing that she meets a man of the same disposition.) So she said to the abbess, “How can we decline a kind invitation from such a distinguished family? If we decline and get ourselves in trouble, what are we going to do?”

Knowing Wang-shi to be an insightful woman, the abbess refrained from contradicting her and limited herself to saying, “All right, you may go. But when will you be coming back? What if something happens here?”

“After I’m introduced to Lady Gao, I’ll stay for a few days and look for an opportunity to come back as soon as I can. Nothing can happen in the nunnery. Even if some difficulty arises, the Gao residence in the city is not that far from here. Correspondence by letter will do.”

“In that case, you may go now.”

Thereupon, the servant summoned the sedan-chair carriers into the nunnery. Wang-shi mounted the sedan-chair and was carried all the way to the Gao residence.

Mr. Gao did not receive her (IC: Very good.) but instructed that she be taken to his wife. At his behest, Lady Gao kept Wang-shi in their bedroom, whereas he slept in another room. (IC: He stands to gain.)

Lady Gao touched on the sutras and the operations of karma in her chat with Wang-shi, and to each of her questions, Wang-shi had ten answers. Lady Gao thought the world of her. (IC: As often happens with wives.) Off-handedly, Lady Gao said, “Judging from your accent, I don’t think you’re a native of these parts. Did you join the Buddhist order at an early age? Or did you have a husband and become a nun later in life?”

These questions brought copious tears to Wang-shi’s eyes. “Your Ladyship,” said she, “I’m indeed not a native of these parts. I’m from Zhenzhou. My husband is Cui Ying, marshal of Yongjia County. I’ve never dared to tell anyone the truth, but I believe there’s no harm in telling you what really happened.” (MC: There is a time for falsehoods and a time for truths. Wang-shi can be a military strategist.) She thereupon launched into an account of how she had joined her husband on a journey to assume his post, how the boat owner had taken their possessions and murdered her husband when their journey had taken them to a spot nearby, how she had been spared her life, how she had escaped, and how, fortunately for her, the abbess had kept her and tonsured her.

As she blubbered out her story from start to finish, Lady Gao felt so sorry for her that she said savagely, “How hateful those scoundrels—bringing such suffering upon you! Divine justice never misses the mark, but why haven’t they gotten their comeuppance yet?”

Wang-shi continued, “In my seclusion in the nunnery, I heard no news from outside for about a year. Then suddenly, some days ago, a lotus painting was presented to the nunnery as a donation. I recognized it as my husband’s. It was one of the items looted from the boat. So I asked the abbess for the name of the donor, and learned that the donors were Gu Axiu and his brother, who live right here in this county. As far as I remember, the boat my husband rented was owned by a man with the surname Gu. Now that one of the looted items has surfaced, who can the criminal be if not Gu Axiu? Right away, I composed a ci poem to hint at the fact that my husband and I lost each other that day and wrote it on the painting. Thereafter, someone bought the screen. The other day, a messenger from your honorable establishment went to the nunnery to inquire about the origin of the poem on the painting. It was written by me, in order to make the injustice known.” With a bow to Lady Gao, she continued, “The criminals live nearby. Please ask Inspector Gao to look into the case for me. If the criminals are brought to justice, the wrongs inflicted on us will be redressed, my late husband will be vindicated, and you and Inspector Gao will have done a kindness as vast as heaven and earth.”

“With these clues, the investigations shouldn’t be too difficult. Don’t worry! I’ll talk to my husband.”

Lady Gao did indeed repeat Wang-shi’s words in detail to her husband, adding, “She’s too well educated and gentle to be from a lowly family.”

“What she said tallies with County Marshal Cui’s words,” said Mr. Gao. “Since Marshal Cui recognized her handwriting on the lotus screen, I have no doubt that she’s his wife. You must take good care of her, but don’t give anything away yet.”

When Mr. Gao went out to see Cui Junchen, the latter urged him over and over, to find out more about the screen. Mr. Gao hemmed and hawed, saying he had too little information to go on, and made no mention of the nun Huiyuan. (IC: Wonderful detail.) He then secretly dispatched servants to find out where the Gu brothers lived and the places they frequented. What they found out convinced him that the brothers were indeed bandits. (MC: Mr. Gao is also a detail-oriented person.) However, since he was living in retirement, he thought it would be presumptuous of him to rush into action. Privately, he said to his wife, “Marshal Cui’s case has been seven or eight parts solved. Soon I’ll bring about his reunion with his wife. But Huiyuan is still a tonsured nun. After they’re reunited, she can’t very well show herself in public as an official’s wife if her head remains shaved. You need to gently talk her into letting her hair grow and putting on lay clothes.”

“Right you are!” said his wife. “But she doesn’t know that her husband is alive. How could she agree to let her hair grow and change into lay clothes?”

“You just go ahead and talk to her. If she listens to you, well and good. If not, I’ll give you other ideas.”

Thus advised, Lady Gao went to Wang-shi and said to her, “I’ve repeated all your words to my husband. He said that he’d take care of the case and bring the criminals to justice. He’ll surely find redress for you.”

Wang-shi raised one hand in a Buddhist salute and voiced her thanks.

Lady Gao continued, “There’s one thing, though. My husband said that being from a distinguished family and the wife of an official, you mustn’t end up in a nunnery. He wants me to talk you into growing your hair and changing into lay clothes. If you agree, he’ll do all he can to hunt down the criminals for you.”

“Why would a widow like me bother to grow long hair and change my looks? (MC: It’s for your own good.) I pleaded for your husband’s help because I wanted to seek revenge, but after the criminals are wiped out, I’ll be content to live out my life here in this nunnery. What other ending would I want?”

“But your nun’s outfit is out of place in my home. A better option would be for you to let your hair grow and acknowledge me and my husband as your adoptive parents. A widowed daughter can very well live with her parents for as long as it takes.” (MC: The old lady is also full of ideas.)

“You and your husband favor me with such kindness! Human beings are not unfeeling wood or stone. How can I feel no gratitude? But a widow is in no mood to arrange her hair and put on powder and rouge. What’s more, I’m deeply indebted to the abbess for saving my life. It would be unkind to abandon her. (MC: Her heart is in the right place.) With all due respect, I can’t oblige you.”

Since Wang-shi was so unyielding, Lady Gao gave up and reported as much to her husband. In admiration, Mr. Gao said, “A woman of such moral rectitude is hard to come by!” (IC: Indeed.)

At his behest, Lady Gao approached Wang-shi again and said, “My husband isn’t being unreasonable in insisting that you let your hair grow. Let me explain: The other day, when he was talking with an official of the Pingjiang Circuit about this case, he learned that someone claiming to be the marshal of Yongjia County filed a report at the yamen last year. So your husband may still be alive. If you don’t let your hair grow, once the criminals are caught and Mr. Cui surfaces, you won’t be able to reunite with him due to your religious status. Regret will be too late then. (MC: She has to let her hair grow.) Why don’t you let your hair grow for a time? When the case is solved, even if Mr. Cui is still nowhere to be found, you can take the tonsure again and return to the nunnery. There will be no harm done!”

On learning that someone had filed a report claiming to be Cui, Wang-shi began to have second thoughts: “My husband learned to swim in early childhood, and that night I saw him being dumped into the water. Perhaps Heaven spared his life.” She complied and let her hair grow, although she still refused to dress differently and looked more like a Daoist nun.

Half a year later, the imperial court sent a jinshi, a Mr. Xue Puhua, to Pingjiang Circuit as an imperial inspector.9 A highly competent and resourceful official, he happened to be a former subordinate of Mr. Gao’s. Upon arrival at his duty station, he lost no time in paying Mr. Gao a visit, and Mr. Gao confided the secret to him, sparing no details, and told him Gu Axiu’s name, address, and the places he frequented. Inspector Xue took note of the information and went away to do what needed to be done, but that is no part of our story.

Now, let us turn to the Gu brothers and retrace our steps to the fifteenth night of the eighth month of that year. When they woke up at daybreak after sleeping straight through the night, they realized that Wang-shi was missing. Knowing that she must have gotten away, they dared not pursue her, afraid that they would only give themselves away. They did ask around a couple of times, but to no avail. Since this was not something they could go public with, they had no alternative but to bite their tongues and do nothing. The following year, they committed about ten more robberies. Although the loot came to less than what they had taken from the Cuis, their luck held, and their crimes remained undetected.

Savoring their success, they were cheering and drinking at home when a team of officers and runners led by the police chief of Pingjiang Circuit surrounded the house. They produced the wanted list given to them by the imperial inspector, and Gu Axiu’s name was seen to be at the top of the list. As the officers went down the list, every one of the bandits was apprehended. Then the police searched the house for the looted items on the list provided by Marshal Cui and confiscated the trunks and cases, as well as the boat that was moored in the inlet outside. All the items were transported under guard to the imperial inspector’s yamen.

After Inspector Xue began his court session, the accused tried to deny everything at first, but when the looted items were presented in the courtroom, the letter of appointment for the marshal of Yongjia County was found lying in a trunk, and the other items were also checked against the list one by one. Only when Inspector Xue read out loud the report Marshal Cui had previously filed did the accused men lower their heads, speechless.

“Where’s the county marshal’s wife, Wang-shi?” asked Inspector Xue.

Gu Axiu and the others looked at one another without a word. When the inspector barked the order that they be put under torture, Gu Axiu confessed: “I meant to marry her to my younger son, which is why I didn’t kill her. She readily gave her consent, so I dropped my guard. (MC: Wonderful.) To my surprise, she escaped while we were all asleep on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival that year and went no one knows where. This is the truth.”

The imperial inspector recorded his deposition and had his fingerprint pressed on it. Every man on the boat that fateful night, whether ringleader or accomplice, was sentenced to death, to be executed as soon as possible. All the looted items on the list were to be returned to their rightful owner.

The imperial inspector sent a messenger to report to Mr. Gao and had the looted items carried to Mr. Gao’s residence so that they could be turned over to County Marshal Cui. Only when Cui Junchen went out to accept the items did he learn that his appointment letter was still there, as well as his family possessions. But his wife was still nowhere to be found, and even the bandits had no idea as to her whereabouts. He thought it was a hopeless case. Overcome with emotion at the new developments and memories of the past, he broke into sobs of grief, as attested by the following quatrain:

How laughable that brainy Cui Junchen

For a moment let his sorrows cloud his wits!

If the painting helped track down the bandits,

It could help find the one who wrote on it.

Well, this is what happened: Mr. Gao had purposely told Cui Junchen only that the painting was a donation by Gu Axiu to the nunnery without revealing the fact that the one who had written the poem on it was right there in the nunnery serving the Buddha. Therefore, although Cui knew it was the painting that had brought the crimes to light, he did not make the connection between the painting and establishing his wife’s whereabouts. (MC: By slyly concealing the other use for the painting, Mr. Gao means to deepen Cui’s gratitude.) It never entered his head that the painting could help him track her down.

After he had his cry, Cui thought, “Since I still have my appointment letter, I should be able to take up my post. If I drag my feet, there might be a replacement, and I’ll lose my chance. Since there’s no trace of my wife, my staying here will serve no purpose.” Whereupon he asked Mr. Gao to come out.

After he thanked Mr. Gao and informed the latter of his wish to go and assume his post, Mr. Gao said, “To leave on a journey to take up an official post is always a happy event. But you can’t go as a young bachelor. My wife and I would like to find a wife for you. You can set out on your journey in her company, and you’ll still make good time.” (MC: Deliberately misrepresenting the situation. Wonderful.)

His eyes growing moist, Junchen said, “My wife shared my hard lot for many years. After that calamity, she must have gotten stranded somewhere, and I have no idea whether she’s dead or alive. However, judging from her poem on the lotus screen, I should think she’s still somewhere around these parts. If I stay here and start a search, there’s too little likelihood of success, and it may take months or years, and my post will surely be unavailable by then. My idea is to go to my duty station alone. I’ll then have missing-person posters put up everywhere. My humble wife, being quite literate, will be able to see them and come out on her own, unless the tribulations and shocks she went through have already claimed her life. On the off chance that she’s still alive, by the grace of heaven and earth, I’ll get to be reunited with her. I’ll never forget your kindness to me, sir, but I won’t accept your offer of matchmaking.”

The sadness in his tone convinced Mr. Gao of his utter devotion to his wife. (MC: Mr. Gao went to such lengths only because he was afraid that Mr. Cui might reject his wife out of suspicion that she had been defiled by the bandits.) Mr. Gao said sympathetically, “Heaven will surely bless you, a man of such loyalty, and bring about a reunion with your wife. I wouldn’t dream of imposing anything on you. Please give me some time so that I can lay out a farewell banquet before you set off on the journey.”

The next day, a banquet was laid out. Among the guests invited to send off County Marshal Cui were Mr. Gao’s students, former colleagues, incumbent officials, and other eminent personalities from across the county. (IC: This is done to spread Mr. Gao’s fame.) After several rounds of toasts, Mr. Gao raised his cup again and announced, “Today, this old man will be completing Mr. Cui’s bond of this lifetime.” No one understood what he meant, not even Cui Junchen himself.

Before everyone’s eyes, Mr. Gao ordered a servant to go to the inner quarters of the house and tell his wife that it was time for Huiyuan’s appearance. On hearing this, Junchen froze with astonishment, somewhat upset that Mr. Gao had laid out the banquet and said those words so that he could force a woman on him. Not even in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that his wife was now going by the name Huiyuan.

Lady Gao, well informed about her husband’s plan, told Wang-shi that County Marshal Cui had stayed in the Gao residence for some time now, the bandits had been arrested and convicted of their crimes, and Mr. Cui’s appointment letter had been found and that she was to go to the hall where the send-off banquet was taking place to be reunited with her husband.

As if waking from a dream, Wang-shi was overwhelmed with gratitude. She voiced her thanks to Lady Gao before entering the banquet hall. By this time, her hair had grown to about shoulder length, and she had changed into regular clothes. At the sight of his wife, Marshal Cui became as confused as if he was in a wine-induced trance or a dream.

Jubilantly, Mr. Gao said, “Didn’t this old man offer to make a match for you? (MC: He does know how to play a prank.) Do you approve of this one?”

Marshal Cui and Wang-shi fell on each other’s shoulders and cried with abandon, each saying, “I thought you had died. I never thought I’d see you again, and in this place, too!”

Knowing nothing of what had led to this, the guests asked Mr. Gao for enlightenment, whereupon Mr. Gao had a page boy bring the lotus screen out from his study. Addressing the assembly of guests, he announced, “If you want to know more, please look at this screen.”

The guests vied with one another for a better view of the screen. Some examined the painting, some read the poem out loud, but none was able to make anything of them.

Mr. Gao said, “Let me tell you: This painting represents the marriage bond between Marshal Cui and his wife. The painting was done by Marshal Cui and the poem by Mrs. Cui. They were passing here on their way to Marshal Cui’s duty station when they were robbed by their boatmen. Mrs. Cui fled to the nunnery to join the Buddhist order. When a donor offered this painting to the nunnery, she recognized it as one of the items looted by the boatmen. So she wrote a poem on the painting. Later, this painting came into this old man’s hands, and on joining this household, Marshal Cui recognized his wife’s handwriting. I had some secret investigations done and found out that Mrs. Cui was living in the nunnery. So I asked my wife to invite her to stay in our house. After more secret investigations, the bandits were tracked down. I asked Imperial Inspector Xue to handle the case. He got to the bottom of it, and the criminals all pleaded guilty. Marshal Cui and his wife have both been staying in this house for half a year now, both believing that they had lost the other. Little did they know that they had indeed been together for quite some time. I’ve held myself back from revealing the truth to them because, with Mrs. Cui’s hair short and Marshal Cui’s appointment letter missing, I thought it imprudent to let the secret out. Plus I had no idea how things would turn out and what they would think. Now that the criminals have all been brought to justice and I’ve tested both husband and wife and found them to be utterly devoted to each other (IC: To show how wise and discreet he is.), the purpose of this feast is to bring about their reunion, which was why I said I would be completing Marshal Cui’s ‘bond of this lifetime,’ a phrase taken from Mrs. Cui’s poem. The name Huiyuan that I announced is Mrs. Cui’s Buddhist name. I intentionally confused Mr. Cui and every one of you, in order to produce a laugh at the banquet table.” (MC: He is indeed wise and discreet, but also playful.)

Having heard him out, Cui Junchen and Wang-shi tearfully kowtowed to him. There was not a dry eye throughout the hall. Everyone praised Mr. Gao for his unprecedented act of kindness. As Wang-shi went to the inner quarters to thank Lady Gao, Mr. Gao sat down at the table again to enjoy the feast with the guests. They did not part company until they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. That night, another suite of rooms was straightened up for Marshal Cui and his wife, and two women servants were put at their disposal. (IC: To add to the joy of the occasion.)

The next day, Mr. Gao gave Cui Junchen a liberal amount of travel money, as well as a bond servant and a maid, since he had no servants of his own. (MC: A great benefactor indeed.) That very day, Marshal Cui and his wife set out on their journey. Out of gratitude for the great kindness done to them, they could hardly tear themselves away from the Gaos and did not depart without a violent fit of sobbing. Then they proceeded to the nunnery. Since Wang-shi had been away for quite some time now, the abbess and all the others in the nunnery were astounded when they saw her in lay clothes. Only after Wang-shi told them everything and thanked the abbess for having kindly taken care of her did the abbess come to realize that Gu Axiu was a criminal (MC: Picking up an earlier thread.) and that Wang-shi’s story about being bullied by the chief wife was a little fiction invented on the spur of the moment. Everyone in the nunnery was friends with her and hated to see her go, but since there was nothing they could do about it, they tearfully bade her farewell. Husband and wife then set out for Yongjia County.

After Marshall Cui’s term of office in Yongjia expired, they returned to Zhenzhou and, when passing Suzhou, sent a messenger to give their greetings to Mr. Gao and ask for a visit. As it turned out, both Mr. and Mrs. Gao were dead and buried. Cui Junchen and Wang-shi gave way to their grief, as if they had lost their own parents. They asked the way to the graveyard, paid their respects, and went to the nunnery to ask the nuns to perform a three-day-and-three-night “land and water” mass for the departed souls, to repay them for their great kindness. (MC: That’s the way it should be.) Wang-shi still remembered the texts of the sutras and joined the nuns in their prayers. (MC: Good detail.)

After the mass was over, Mr. and Mrs. Cui went back to the nunnery with the nuns, and Junchen gave the abbess a hefty donation out of his savings from his salary. Recalling how she had prayed day and night to the bodhisattva Guanyin for protection and for reunion with her husband, Wang-shi offered the abbess ten taels of silver with which to buy incense and candles. In order not to forget about the nunnery, Wang-shi decided to keep to a vegetarian diet and worship the bodhisattva Guanyin for the rest of her life. At this point, they took leave of the nuns and returned to their home in Zhenzhou. Later, they set out for the capital to await another official appointment, but that happened later and is not part of our story.

In this story, Mr. Gao’s kindness, Marshal Cui’s devotion, and Wang-shi’s integrity are all quite exceptional. Every one of them was full of goodwill, which is why they all won blessings from heaven. When good people meet, all wrongs done to them will be put to rights, and long-lost wedded couples will be brought together again. This can serve as an admonition for the general populace.

As the poem says,

Wang-shi had a long-term plan in her seclusion;

Rough was the road to her reunion with her husband.

The boatman hoped in vain to gain a kinswoman;

For one month only, he called her “daughter-in-law.” (MC: How laughable—that boat owner!)

Another poem goes:

The lotus, with the charms of a pretty woman,

Was blown to the roadside, but why?

The painting and the poem merged together

To lend the scent of the ink to the reunion.

There is another poem in praise of Imperial Inspector Gao:

Mr. Gao’s kindness reached the high heavens;

He completed the couple’s bond of this lifetime.

From the start, he never gave a detail away;

In the end, he brought about the reunion.

The painted lotus had two flowers on one stalk;

Duckweeds gathered around to add to the charm.

With his stature as a tall white poplar,

Shed no sad tears for him to the Nine Springs down below.10