9

In the Director’s Garden, Young Ladies Enjoy a Swing-Set Party

At Pure and Peaceful Temple, Husband and Wife Laugh and Cry at Their Reunion

As the poem goes,

It is the god of marriage’s sole duty

To fulfill marital destinies.

Matches are made not only for the living

But also for those raised from the dead.

Divine power shows not in simple cases

But only when twists and turns abound.

As for the workings of the god of fate,

They well deserve one’s abiding faith.

Our story makes the point that one must not seek a marriage that is against one’s fate because every marriage in this world of ours is predestined. If it is not meant for you, it will not happen however much you strain your brain to cook up evil schemes and machinations. But if it is meant for you, whatever obstacles are laid in your path, whatever wedges are driven between you and your intended, the marriage will take place even if the betrothed parties have gone their separate ways, and even the dead will be brought back to life to fulfill the marriage destiny. (MC: These observations help stop fantasies and misconduct.) Tang dynasty tales tell of a girl’s soul departing her body for conjugal union in “Qianniang’s Departed Soul” and of the dead coming back to life to be joined in matrimony in “Cui Hu Asking for a Drink.”1 There are too many such strange tales to enumerate here. I will limit myself to retelling a story in Extensive Gleanings of the Reign of Great Tranquility.2

There was once a stout-hearted young Mr. Liu. A man with a combative streak in him, he found delight in archery, horse riding, swordsmanship, drinking, and ball playing, and he associated only with swordsmen, gamblers, and young hooligans capable of killing without compunction. During a tour of the Chu region, he found the local customs much to his liking, so he joined a group of like-minded men and developed a fraternal friendship with them. One of them said to him, “My neighbor Mr. Wang’s daughter is the prettiest girl alive.” Right away, Mr. Liu asked someone present to be his matchmaker and propose to the Wang family.

The Wangs’ reply was, “Although he is a brave young man, we heard that his behavior deviates somewhat from the norm, and he is not of a practical turn of mind. We are afraid that he may get into trouble someday and compromise our daughter’s future.”

In spite of her parents’ firm rejection, the daughter felt more than a little drawn to the young man, for she had long heard about his bravery and sense of loyalty. (MC: Herein lies their marriage destiny.) But with her parents blocking the way, there was nothing she could do.

After hearing the matchmaker’s report, Liu said in his impetuous way, “Well, so be it! A man of worth is bound to find a good wife! Why should I worry?” And so he did not give the matter a second thought.

Then he moved on to other places. During his wandering years, he was approached by several matchmakers, but each time the candidate was either too highly placed or too lowly for him. By the time he returned to the Chu region, still a bachelor, the Wangs’ daughter had already been spoken for. Liu thought nothing of this news. Now that he was back, his old friends resumed their visits to him. With arms around one another’s shoulders, they went on hunting trips by day and cooked their kill at night, be it deer, pheasant, or rabbit, and their drinking parties would not break up until the wee hours of the morning. (MC: Unrestrained behavior not hard to visualize.)

On their way back from hunting one day, they dismounted their horses to take a little rest in a grove of trees more than ten li from the city wall. It was a bleak and desolate place with sinister-looking trees. Rainfall had damaged the six or seven earth mounds in the grove, exposing coffins to view. Some of the coffins had fallen into such decay that the corpses were clearly visible. Someone commented, “What a place! Luckily, it’s still daylight. Imagine how frightful it could get if one were traveling alone here at night!”

In response, Mr. Liu said, “Gods and ghosts respect real men. What’s there to be scared of even if it’s night? I’ll be back here tonight to walk around, just to show you!”

“You’re indeed a brave man, Brother Liu,” said his friends. “But we’re afraid you might not be able to manage that!”

“But I will be able to do it!”

“What proof are you going to produce?”

Liu picked up a brick from an ancient grave and wrote the names of everyone present on it. “I’m going to take this brick with me,” he announced. “After nightfall, I’ll return and put it back.” Pointing at a coffin, he continued, “I’ll put it on that coffin. You can come back tomorrow to check. If I fail to return with the brick, I lose the wager, and I’ll treat you all to dinner. But if I do bring it back, all of you lose and treat me. Your names are all there, on the brick. No one will get off the hook!”

Everyone was amused. “Good idea! Good idea!” said they in chorus.

After this exchange, they heard faintly audible rumblings of thunder. With one accord, they mounted their horses and returned to Mr. Liu’s lodgings, where they again slaughtered and cooked their kill and indulged in drinking.

Suddenly a thunderstorm came on. As the thunderclaps shook the house, the men said teasingly to Liu, “Remember what you said earlier today, Brother Liu? Even an iron man wouldn’t dare venture out at such a moment!”

“Nonsense!” said Liu. “As soon as the rain lets up a little, I’ll be out of here!”

Sure enough, as the rain began to slacken after the first fit of the storm’s fury was over, Liu picked up the brick from the grave and went out the door. His friends said, laughing, “He’s going to hang around outside for a while before coming back with a story to tell. We’ll have a free dinner to enjoy!”

Under the emboldening influence of the wine, Liu walked in one breath to the grave where they had rested earlier in the day and said to himself with a chuckle, “What a bunch of cowards! I don’t know what they could possibly have been afraid of when they told me not to come here.”

By this time, the storm had died down. He was about to put the brick on the coffin by the dim light of the stars when he saw something lying on the coffin. He touched it and wondered, “How very strange! What could it be?” In the darkness, he ran his fingers over the object and felt that it was something in a cloth wrap. When he got his arms around it and lifted it, he found it to be about seventy to eighty catties in weight. Smiling to himself, he thought, “Whatever it is, let me carry it back just to show them, so they won’t have to wait until tomorrow to believe me.” (MC: He is fearless.)

Smug about his physical prowess and meaning to frighten his friends, he laid the brick on the coffin, lifted the object with one hand, slung it over his shoulders, and headed back with big strides.

It was already midnight when he got back, but the drinking party was still in full swing. Hearing footsteps outside, they knew Mr. Liu was back, but it sounded as if he was carrying a heavy burden. Intrigued, they saw Liu enter, make straight for the lamp, and lower the object from his back. By the lamplight, everyone saw that it was a female corpse in brand-new clothes. Strangely, the corpse was able to stand erect instead of plopping stiffly to the floor. When the men looked up sharply and saw it, they were so frightened that some wet their pants and some could not find the door quickly enough. Liu, however, held the lamp to the dead woman’s face and saw that it was a beautiful face that had been rouged and powdered only recently, but the eyes were tightly closed, and for some mysterious reason, no breath was coming out or going in.

Liu’s friends said in fear, “What a thing to do, Brother Liu, playing such a horrible practical joke on us! How could you carry a corpse home and frighten us like this! Now get it out of the house! Quick!”

With a peal of laughter, Liu said, “Let me introduce you to my wife! I’m going to share my bed with her tonight. How could I have the heart to throw her out the door?” Having said that, he rolled up his sleeves, carried the corpse to his bed, and lay down under the same quilt, mouth to mouth. (MC: Naughty, naughty! And amusing, too.) As a matter of fact, he was just trying to impress his friends with an act of bravado.

“What an insolent good-for-nothing!” said his friends, frightened and amused in equal measure. “You’re indeed a fearless one! But we could have just conceded defeat and treated you to dinner. All these shenanigans are so unnecessary!”

Turning a deaf ear to them, Liu remained in bed. And the men went their separate ways.

It was the fourth watch of the night when Liu woke up. The corpse by his side, having been exposed to the vital qi of a living human being, gradually began to breathe. (MC: Will wonders never cease?) Appalled, Liu felt the corpse’s chest with a hand and found that it was warm. “Good grief !” he exclaimed. “Could a dead body have come back to life?”

As he was wondering to himself, the woman’s four limbs began to move. Liu breathed on her to give her more warmth, and, sure enough, she turned over and said, now wide awake, “Where am I? Why am I here?” Liu asked her name, but, bashfully, she refused to answer.

Soon the sky brightened. Several of the men who had been at the dinner table the night before came and asked, “Where’s that corpse you brought here last night? The strangest thing has happened!”

Covering the woman with the quilt, Liu asked, “What strangest thing?”

“Last night was supposed to be Mr. Wang’s daughter’s wedding night. She was all dressed up and ready to get into the bridal sedan-chair when she suddenly died of a heart attack. Before they had time to put her body into a coffin, they heard a crash of thunder, and with that, the corpse vanished. (IC: It’s a common occurrence for dead bodies to be jolted by thunderclaps.) They still haven’t found it. Could it be the very corpse you carried here last night?”

Liu burst into another peal of laughter. “I carried back a living human being, not a corpse!” (MC: Hilarious!)

“Nonsense!” cried everyone.

As Liu lifted the quilt, everyone saw that it was indeed no corpse but a woman very much alive.

“Well! Wonders never cease!” exclaimed the men. “But who are the young lady’s parents?”

Seeing so many people present, the young woman spoke up: “I’m from the Wang family of this neighborhood. Last night, I had a dizzy spell and fell to the ground. I wonder why I ended up in this place.”

Liu burst into yet another peal of laughter. “I told them last night that you were my wife. Now I know for sure that you’re the very one to whom I made an offer of marriage years ago. So I didn’t lie!” (MC: His expansive nature comes through in these three peals of laughter.)

Amid general laughter, someone said, “There must be a predestined marriage bond between you. We’ll surely act as go-betweens for you!”

Soon after the story got around, Mr. and Mrs. Wang made their appearance. To their surprise and joy, they found their daughter alive and well. Knowing that young Mr. Liu was the one who had once proposed marriage, Miss Wang said to her parents, “I already died, but I came back to life for the sole purpose of meeting Mr. Liu. Although I was but a corpse last night, I shared his bed for half the night as a living being, so I can hardly marry anyone else. (MC: It’s better to comply with her wish.) Father and Mother, you must do right by me!”

Everyone present took the young lady’s part and said to the parents, “You must not act against divine will!”

And so Mr. and Mrs. Wang took Liu in as a live-in son-in-law. Mr. Liu and Wang-shi remained a devoted couple until the end of their lives. Clearly, this was a match made in heaven. Had it not been for her sudden death that thunderous night, Miss Wang would have married into another family, and had it not been for his act of bravado, Liu would not have had anything to do with a missing corpse. It was the couple’s predestined bond that brought about all those strange and confused events.

The above story is about a case in which the parents turned down the marriage offer at first. My next story is about parents who accepted a marriage offer at first but then withdrew from the betrothal. It also involves a corpse coming back to life. Remaining faithful to each other, the young lovers were finally married, leaving behind a much-told tale titled “Meeting at the Swing-Set.” Verily,

Unshaken faith melts the hardest metal and stone;

Staunch devotion can revive the dead for a reunion.

Our story proper takes place in the Dade reign period [1297–1307] of the Yuan dynasty. There was a Mr. Boluo, director of the Imperial Board of Alimentation. An ethnic Tartar, he was the son of the former prime minister, the Duke of Qi. Born into such a distinguished family, he lived in the lap of luxury in a mansion that was second to none in its grandeur. But he was also quite a scholar and was respectful to the learned and the virtuous. Officials of the imperial court all spoke highly of him. His residence was located to the west of Haizi Bridge, next to the residences of Judge Yandula and Registrar Rongfu, Prince of Dongping [in present-day Shandong]. The three families, living in such proximity to one another, enjoyed a warm friendship.

Director Boluo had a garden at the back of the house. It was named Apricot Garden in celebration of the line “The fence can hardly block the signs of spring from view; there, o’er the top, a spring of apricot blossoms or two.” In terms of its botanical rarities and its magnificent pavilions, no other rich man’s garden came close. Every spring, Director Boluo’s sisters and daughters invited the womenfolk of the other two households for a swing-set party in the garden, where the feasts and the laughter could last the whole day. The other two families would reciprocate, and so the three families took turns playing the host every other day from the end of the second lunar month until after the Clear and Bright Festival.3 They called their gatherings “Swing-Set Parties.”

As one of those parties was going on, a young man astride a horse went past the garden wall. Baizhu by name, he was the son of Timur Buhua, an official in the Bureau of Military Affairs. On hearing sounds of laughter inside, he rose slightly from his saddle and looked over the wall. There, enjoying themselves on the swing-sets were beautiful girls shrieking in delight. Baizhu reined in his horse and hid himself in the shadow of a willow tree to look his fill. For a long time he looked, unaware of the passing of time. The old janitor heard the tinkling of a horse bell and went out to investigate and saw a young man on horseback staring into the garden, motionless. Recognizing him as the son of Mr. Timur, the janitor went to report to Director Boluo. Immediately, the director sent a servant to greet him, but Baizhu had given his horse the whip and was already some distance off because he thought it unbecoming to have been found out by the janitor.

After returning home, he excitedly told his mother that every girl in Director Boluo’s household was a ravishing beauty. Catching on to the implication, she said, “Our family and theirs are well matched in status. We need only engage a matchmaker and make a betrothal offer. They’ll surely agree. You won’t have to admire them from a distance.”

And so a matchmaker was sent to the director’s house to make a proposal. The director said affably, “Could this be from the young man on horseback who watched the swing-set party the other day? It just so happens that I’m about to select a son-in-law. Tell him to come here so that I can take a look at him. If he’s bright and good-looking, I’ll surely give my consent.”

The matchmaker reported as much to Mr. Timur, to the latter’s great delight. By his father’s order, Baizhu went, arrayed in his best, to the director’s home.

Director Boluo was pleased with Baizhu’s fine appearance. Wondering if the young man was equally impressive in learning, he thought it necessary to give him a test. “Since you enjoy watching swing-sets,” he began, “why don’t you compose a ci poem on that topic to the tune of ‘Bodhisattva Barbarian’ for my enlightenment?”

Thereupon, Baizhu asked for a writing brush and an ink slab and wrote the following poem without a single pause:

Red ropes, painted boards, and slender fingers,

Swallows rise on the east wind in pairs.

Showing off their beauty, they strive to swing highest,

Binding their skirts all the more tightly.

Worn out, they succumb to sleep on ivory beds;

Their golden hairpins fall every which way.

When they wake up and push back their pillows,

It is late, with the moon at their gauze windows.

Immensely delighted by the young man’s gushing poetic talent, Director Boluo ordered that a feast be laid out in his honor. When the feast was ready, he made the young man, a junior, sit by his side, whereas he himself took the host’s seat, as proper etiquette demanded.

In the midst of the drinking, the director thought, “That was indeed a nice poem, but could he have written it right after he watched the swing-set party that day? And the topic I set couldn’t have suited him better. Otherwise, how could he have come out with it so quickly? Cao Zhi couldn’t have done better.4 Let me put him to the test once more.”

As he happened to hear an oriole warbling on a tree outside, he said to Baizhu, “This old man begs to be enlightened again. I hope you won’t begrudge me another poem, this time on that oriole, to the tune of ‘Red Filling the River.’ ”

Baizhu obliged him and composed another poem right there on the spot. He smoothed out a sheet of high-grade paper, wielded his brush, and presented the finished product to the director. The poem said,

The sweet sunlight of spring clears the sky of rain;

The peach blossoms half open, the oriole tries out its voice.

By my lonely pillow, the notes burst on my ears;

By my folding screen, I hear the trebles.

In the east wind, the sweet chirps take on greater charm.

Awake from a sad dream, it sinks into gloom;

The last apricot blossoms fade; the doors close.

Amid the lilting and graceful music,

It flits among willow trees and flowers.

It seeks loving friends, but to no avail;

Its eyes on the trees, it wonders when to perch with a mate.

Its heart is far, far away.

The director was pleased with the young man’s diction and his calligraphy, and when he got to the line with its implication of oriole-inspired courtship sentiments, he involuntarily slapped the table and exclaimed, “Nice job! You’d be a worthy son-in-law! My third wife has a daughter named Sugeshili. She’s a good match for you. Let me call her forth to meet you.” With that, he ordered the cloud-shaped announcement iron board struck, to summon his third wife and their daughter into the main hall.

After kowtowing to his future mother-in-law, Baizhu exchanged greetings with Sugeshili (MC: As per Mongolian customs.), who was none other than the most beautiful girl at the swing-set party. Baizhu dared not hold his head high, but he did manage to steal a good look at her, unlike the time when he had watched from the other side of the wall. Joy flooded his heart. After the greetings, mother and daughter returned to their rooms.

Let me now turn to the other womenfolk in the inner chambers of the mansion. On hearing that the third wife and her daughter were invited into the main hall, they guessed, correctly, that the master had chosen a son-in-law. Young ladies peeped through the chinks between the double doors (MC: It is especially the women of the family who are most anxious to see.), and all admired Baizhu’s refined looks. When Sugeshili came back to the interior of the mansion, they congratulated her privately, saying, “This is indeed a case of ‘A happy event for the household, a son-in-law with a bright future!’ ”

Let us leave the Boluo family in their joy and come back to Baizhu.

After taking leave of Director Boluo with many expressions of gratitude, Baizhu returned home and told his parents about what had happened. Shortly afterward, they picked an auspicious day and presented betrothal gifts to the director’s family. There was such a prodigious abundance of gifts and such a display of poetic talent that word about the grand event spread all around the capital.

Unfortunately, the road to happiness never runs smooth, and an unforeseen storm descended on them. Officials of the Bureau of Remonstrance, appalled by Mr. Timur’s fabulous wealth, wrote to the emperor, accusing Timur of corruption.5 The emperor sent an imperial inspector to investigate. As was usual in such circumstances, Mr. Timur was placed in detention. He was a man who had known nothing but soft living. How could he possibly put up with the hardships of prison life? Not many days passed before he fell ill. In the Yuan dynasty, imprisoned court officials suffering from ill health could be released upon request. Mr. Timur was thus fortunate enough to be set free so that he could undergo medical treatment at home. As it happened, his illness took a turn for the worse. None of the various prescribed medicines did any good. In less than ten days, it was all over with him. The entire family burst into wails of grief. As it turned out, he had died of a contagious disease that he had caught in prison, and it went around the entire family. One died after another every few days until, within a month, everyone in the family had perished except Baizhu. Then the inspectorate took action to recover the late Mr. Timur’s embezzled possessions. What was left of the entire family property was not enough to pay off the debt to the government. Indeed, in the twinkling of an eye, like ice melting and tiles breaking into pieces, the family fortune disappeared, and all of Baizhu’s closest kith and kin were dead and gone.

Director Boluo’s heart went out to Baizhu. He wanted Baizhu to move into his home, marry his daughter, and pursue an education so that the young man could start a career of his own. The director consulted his third wife, but, being of the weaker sex, she did not have the moral loftiness to rise above the snobbish ways of the world. She took it very hard. As a matter of fact, of his multiple wives, the third one was the director’s favorite. Since she made all the decisions in the household, it was her daughter who had come to mind when he found Baizhu to be a suitable son-in-law, and she had taken it as a victory over the other wives. But now, her future son-in-law had come down in the world, whereas daughters of the other wives were betrothed to wealthy and distinguished families. (MC: What she took to be his special favor has now reduced her to last place.) Full of resentment, she decided to break off the engagement.

She told her daughter, Sugeshili, about her intention, but the girl would not hear of it. Tearfully, she remonstrated with her mother, saying, “Once an alliance is made, marital or otherwise, it isn’t supposed to be changed in any way. (MC: What a girl! With her kind of determination, the marriage alliance is as good as settled.) I do envy my sisters for marrying into prosperous families, but a pledge is a pledge. One can’t play false with the spirits and the gods. How can you go back on your word just because he has fallen into poverty? No decent human being would do such a thing. I’d sooner die than comply.”

Director Boluo acknowledged that his daughter’s arguments made sense, but he gave in to his wife with her coquettishly petulant ways and did an about-face. Brushing aside his daughter’s objections, he betrothed her to Grand Councilor Kuokuochu’s son Sengjianu. This news deeply upset Baizhu, but he knew he was in no position to fight.

On a chosen day, the grand councilor presented betrothal gifts that were even more lavish than Mr. Timur’s. The director’s third wife felt vindicated, and her good humor returned. On a chosen auspicious day, the grand councilor sent a sedan-chair to the Boluo residence to bring the bride to her new home. But Sugeshili refused to mount the sedan-chair. It was only after the many wives and their daughters came to plead with her that she broke down in a flood of tears and reluctantly stepped into the sedan-chair.

After she arrived at the grand councilor’s mansion, the master of ceremonies intoned a poem and invited her to dismount the sedan-chair. The bridesmaid drew aside the curtain for the bride to emerge. After an extended wait without any sign of movement, the bridesmaid stuck her head into the sedan-chair for a look. “Oh no!” she screamed. Sugeshili was dead. She had untied her foot wraps and strangled herself.

Without a moment’s delay, the bridesmaid reported to the grand councilor. Even the grand councilor was at a loss as to what to do. He sent a servant to inform Director Boluo. On hearing the news, the director’s third wife burst out wailing and called her daughter all manner of terms of endearment. A servant was immediately dispatched to bring the sedan-chair back home. The foot wraps were quickly taken down, and ginger soup was forced down her throat, but she remained unconscious, her teeth tightly clenched. Her mother fainted several times. In resignation, the family bought an expensive coffin, stuffed it with the girl’s dowry, her jewelry, and the gifts from both betrothals, and deposited it at Pure and Peaceful Temple for the time being. (MC: What good does all this largesse do? Their love for the girl clouds their wits.)

Let me now turn to Baizhu, who was at home when he heard that his betrothed had died for his sake. On learning that her coffin was at Pure and Peaceful Temple, he wanted to go there and mourn her death. He went that night. Saddened by the sight of the coffin, he thumped his chest and burst into sobs that were sad enough to move the statues of Buddha to tears and the monks to emit deep, drawn-out sighs. After he cried his fill, Baizhu rapped at the coffin with both hands and said, “Miss! Your soul shouldn’t have gone far. Baizhu is here!”

After saying that, he heard a soft voice from inside the coffin, “Open the coffin! Quick! I’ve come back to life!”

Every word was unmistakably clear to Baizhu’s ears. Preparing to open the coffin, he looked it over and found the painted nails too firmly lodged for him to do anything to them. So he went to the abbot and said, “The young lady in the coffin is my wife. She died an unjust death, but she said from inside the coffin that she has come back to life. I was trying to open the coffin, but I can’t do it by myself. I need your help.”

The abbot said, “Who would dare to open the coffin of the director’s daughter without authorization? Anyone who does it will be committing a crime.”

But Baizhu held his ground. “I’ll be solely responsible for the crime. You won’t be implicated. What’s more, no one will know at this time of night. If the young mistress is indeed alive and is let out of the coffin, I’ll share the valuables in it with the honorable members of this temple. (MC: With this promise, the coffin is as good as open.) If she turns out to be lifeless, I at least get to see her before we close the lid on her again. Who’s to know?”

On hearing that the burial articles were to be shared with them, the monks felt the stirrings of greed because they had heard about the lavishness of the items. In addition, Baizhu had been a benefactor of the temple in his better days, and therefore it would be unseemly to contradict him.

So an ax was applied to the coffin to pry open the lid. With a creak, it popped open, and Sugeshili sat up. Both Baizhu and Sugeshili were overwhelmed with joy on seeing each other. Baizhu said, “Your new lease on life is predestined, of course, but it’s also thanks to the venerable monks’ help.” Thereupon, the young lady took off a pair of gold bracelets from her wrists and half the jewelry on her head and offered them to the monks in gratitude. What remained was still worth tens of thousands of taels of silver.

Baizhu took counsel with the young lady and said, “We should by rights report this to Director Boluo, but I wouldn’t be surprised if things turn out unfavorably for us. Since we have such a lot of valuables with us, the best option is for the two of us to go far away in secret. We’ll ask the monks to buy some paint, repaint the coffin, and keep their mouths shut. Not a soul will know a thing about all this. Wouldn’t this be the best way out?”

Having been so heavily bribed, the monks did his bidding and painted the coffin until it shone and showed no marks of having been tampered with, and they never breathed a word of this to anyone.

Baizhu and Sugeshili then went to the secondary capital, Kaiping [in present-day Inner Mongolia], and took up residence there. Although they were well heeled, Baizhu still found a job tutoring several Mongol students and had a regular monthly income. With more than enough to live on, the loving husband and wife spent their days in peace. Before they knew it, one year had elapsed with no one any the wiser about their situation. Their identities as offspring of highly placed officials remained well hidden.

Let us now turn to Director Boluo. After he lost his daughter, he sank into low spirits. He did not bother to inquire about what had become of Baizhu. He attributed Baizhu’s prolonged absence to an unsettled life constantly on the go. He even thought that the young man might not have long to live. One day, an imperial decree came, promoting him to prefect of Kaiping. So he took his family and went to take up his post. There was so much official business to attend to that Prefect Boluo found it necessary to hire a secretary to draft documents for him. But Kaiping, the secondary capital up in the north, was not known for its supply of scholars. After many days of futile seeking, he was given this advice: “We found one scholar who recently moved here from the capital with his wife. He is also a Tartar. He has set up a school and has shown himself to be a highly accomplished scholar. He’s the only one who could serve as your secretary, sir.”

Delighted, Prefect Boluo called a messenger to him, gave him a name card, and told him to make haste and invite the scholar to the yamen.

At the sight of the prefect’s name card, Baizhu knew that it was none other than Director Boluo. He promptly told the young lady about it and, properly dressed for the occasion, went by himself to see the prefect.

Prefect Boluo was startled at the sight of the young man. “Isn’t this Baizhu?” he thought. “I haven’t seen him for so long that I thought he might not have survived a life on the road. Why is he so splendidly dressed and looking so radiant with good health?” Involuntarily, he thought of his daughter. (IC: Naturally.) Feeling somewhat distressed, he said to Baizhu, “I’ve done you wrong and unexpectedly caused my beloved daughter’s death. Now why did you come to this place? And are you married?”

Baizhu replied, “I’m honored that you show me such regard, sir. As your humble son-in-law, I wouldn’t dream of hiding anything from you. Your daughter isn’t dead. She’s in this city, with me.”

The prefect was appalled. “Nonsense!” he said. “My daughter died of strangulation, and her coffin is now at Pure and Peaceful Temple. How can she be alive?”

“The unfulfilled marriage bond between your daughter and me gave her a new lease on life. She’s now at our residence, and she can come here immediately to see you. Far be it from me to lie to you!”

The prefect rushed into the inner section of the house and told his third wife about it. No one believed him. (MC: It is indeed quite unbelievable.)

Baizhu sent a messenger to the young lady, and she soon arrived at the yamen in a sedan-chair. The entire family, all astonishment, jostled to get a closer look and found that it was indeed Sugeshili. Not caring whether this was a ghost or a living human being, the prefect and his third wife fell on the young lady’s shoulders and broke down in a flood of tears.

After crying themselves out, the parents looked a little harder at their daughter, who was still dressed in her burial clothes. She cast a shadow, her clothes had seams, and her voice was quite audible—all indications that she was a living human being. Her mother said, “My child! Even if you were a ghost, I’d never have the heart to let you go!”

The prefect, with the sensible mind of a scholar, was still incredulous. He said skeptically to himself, “This could be the aggrieved soul of someone who died an unjust death, here in human form to beguile the young.” (MC: Such are the speculations of a scholar.)

Without saying anything, he secretly dispatched a messenger to the capital, Dadu, to make inquiries at Pure and Peaceful Temple. The monks denied any knowledge at first, but after the messenger told them that the young lady and her parents had been reunited, they relented and came out with the truth. The messenger refused to believe what he heard. The monks then pried open the coffin, so that he could see for himself that there was nothing in it. The messenger returned home and reported the facts to the prefect.

Prefect Boluo said, “So, they do have a predestined marriage bond, and it was my daughter’s iron will that made such a remarkable thing possible. If I’d known things would come to this, I would have held my ground and taken him in as a live-in son-in-law. That way, we would have been spared all this trouble!”

Stung by this comment and feeling bitterly remorseful, Mrs. Boluo began to treat her son-in-law with extra cordiality. Baizhu moved into the Boluo residence and lived there for the rest of his life.

Later, Sugeshili bore Baizhu three sons: Jiaohua, the oldest one, became a vice grand councilor; Manggudai, the second son, and Heisi, the youngest, both became members of the palace guard. Heisi survived Jiaohua and Manggudai and rose to be military affairs commissioner.

When the Ming army descended on the Yan region, Emperor Shundi of the Yuan dynasty called a meeting at the palace in Pure and Serene Hall for a discussion with the imperial consorts and the crown prince on how to elude the advancing troops. Tearfully, Heisi and Prime Minister Shiliemen offered this advice: “Ours is an empire that Emperor Shizu [Kublai Khan (1215–1294)] left to us. We must defend it to the death.” But Emperor Shundi turned a deaf ear to them. In the middle of the night, the emperor had the Jiande Gate [the Desheng Gate of Beijing, as of the Ming dynasty] opened for him and took flight. Heisi followed the emperor north into the desert, and nothing has been known of him ever since.

A bridal sedan-chair carried a dead body;

Monks in a temple painted an empty coffin.

Had it not been for a predestined bond,

There would have been no rebirth or reunion.