24

Yang Siwen Meets an Old Acquaintance in Yanshan

The above lyric poem to the tune of “The Jade Maiden Messenger” was written by Hu Haoran.¹ Lantern Festivals were celebrated with the most jubilation during the Xuanhe reign period [1119–25] under Emperor Huizong of the Song dynasty. Every year on the fourteenth of the first month, the eve of the Lantern Festival, the emperor would drive in his carriage between two hundred pairs of gold-trimmed red-gauze lanterns to Felicity Pool at Five Peaks Temple.²

By night, palm-shaped fans with long, glazed jade handles would be added on to the carriage, which was preceded by fleet-footed runners equipped with pearl-lined red-gauze lanterns. When evening set in, the emperor would return to his palace past the hill of lanterns. Members of the Office of Imperial Transportation would gather in front of the carriage and sing “Charm Follows the Poles.” The carriage would turn around in a circle and then go backward all around the hill of lanterns. It was a feat, known as “Turn of the Dove” or “Stepping around Five Flowers,” that invariably earned the driver a reward. The emperor himself would then ascend Extolling Virtue Tower while spectators flocked to the open-air stage shows.

On the fifteenth day of the month, the emperor would visit the Temple of Exalted Purity and remain until dusk before returning to his palace. On the day after the festival, the royal carriage would proceed again to the tower after breakfast. With the curtains drawn up, the emperor would have pedestrians summoned to his presence.Those who arrived early could thus see the Son of Heaven with their own eyes. Wearing a small cap and a red robe, the emperor would be flanked on both sides by attendants; in front of the curtains stood attendants holding golden fans. In a short while, the curtains would be let down and music struck up for all to enjoy. The resplendent light of the lanterns and candles, blended with the moonlight, shone far and wide. At the third watch of the night, a small red-gauze lamp would be lowered halfway down the tower on a rope, a signal that the imperial carriage was to return to the palace. Following is a lyric poem written by the emperor to the tune of “Jiazhong Palace: Xiaochong Hills”:

I shall now tell of a man who had always enjoyed the festivities in the Eastern Capital but, with the unexpected changing of times, came to be stranded in Yanshan Prefecture³ and observed the Lantern Festival celebrations there. And how was the festival celebrated in Yanshan?

Every year, the Lantern Festival in Yanshan was celebrated in imitation of the festivities in the Eastern Capital. It was not until the third year of the Jianyan period [1129] under Emperor Gaozong of the Southern Song dynasty that the festivities reached a grand scale. That year, a hill of lanterns was put up in Yanshan, an event enjoyed by officials and commoners alike.

Now, the young man of our story used to be employed in Prince Su’s⁵ mansion as a herald and a correspondence clerk for the imperial consort. He was named Yang Siwen but also known as Fifth Master Yang, for he was the fifth son in the family. In the Jingkang reign period,⁶ he came to be stranded in Yanshan, where, luckily, he met his uncle Zhang Er, an innkeeper, who took him in as a lodger. With no other means of subsistence, Yang Siwen eked out a living by doing some copying work every day in the marketplace. As the Lantern Festival rolled around, he saw that the streets were teeming with people out to view the lanterns. His uncle came to take him along to join the festivities. In a dejected mood, Siwen declined the o er. “As familiar as I am with the Lantern Festival in the Eastern Capital, how can I be expected to settle for anything less? (How sad!) You go ahead, Uncle. I’ll catch up with you later.” Consequently, Zhang Er set o alone.

By the time dusk set in, the noise on the streets had risen to such a level that, finding it hard to sit quietly, Yang Siwen could not do otherwise than go out to see the lanterns. Behold:

The streets were filled with people coming and going. As he approached Blue Heaven Monastery, there came into view the golden statues of the fifty-three bodhisattvas and a hundred-foot-high bronze flagpole with an inscription in gold: “Blue Heaven Monastery of Compassion and Loyalty, constructed by imperial order.” Entering the monastery, Siwen saw that both hallways were brightly lit. His leisurely steps took him to the Hall of Arhats, where he saw five hundred arhat statues in pure gold. An acolyte stood in front of the shrine asking for alms, saying, “Benefactors, please make a donation for some oil for our lamps. We shall pray for your fortune and longevity.”

Detecting an Eastern Capital accent ([Illegible] The reference to the Eastern Capital calls attention to the man’s nostalgia for his hometown), Yang Siwen said, “May I ask the honorable monk where he is from?”

“I used to be an acolyte in River Sand Hall of Great State Councilor Monastery in the Eastern Capital. I’m now an acolyte here. Please sit down for a chat.”

Seated on a stool, Siwen was watching the pedestrians passing by when a group of women keeping closely to themselves entered the Hall of Arhats. One of the women threw a glance at Siwen. As their four eyes met, Siwen noticed that the woman was dressed in the fashion of an Eastern Capital resident. She was

The sight of someone from his native town stirred up such nostalgic emotions in Yang Siwen that he sank into dejection. As fatigue stole up on him, he drifted o to sleep. By the time he was awakened by the acolyte, the woman was nowhere to be seen. Yang Siwen sighed, “I was hoping to wait until they came out, so I could see if there might be relatives of mine among them, and now I’ve missed the chance.”

Turning to the acolyte, he asked, “Where are the women who just came into the monastery?”

The acolyte replied, “They made a donation and left, saying that they would return tomorrow to hold a memorial service for some kinsmen. Don’t feel bad, sir. You can come back to wait for them tomorrow.”

Thus advised, Yang Siwen also donated some alms and took leave of the monk. After leaving the Hall of Arhats, he went around the monastery and had been looking around for some time when he suddenly noticed a lyric poem to the tune of “Ripples Sifting Sand” inscribed on the wall of the prayer hall:

The poem further saddened Yang Siwen. He returned to the inn, where he spent a sleepless night. He rose upon the long-awaited first light of dawn, and the day passed without further ado.

When evening fell, he told his uncle that he was going to Blue Heaven Monastery to look for the woman he had seen the night before. Soon he found himself in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the streets. He was still walking along when he heard a peal of thunder. Afraid that it was going to rain, Siwen was about to turn back when he raised his eyes and saw

Upon a closer look, he saw a large carriage approaching from the west. Several dozens of Jurchen officers followed behind as the carriage rumbled along. Behold:

Behind the carriage followed several waiting women, one of whom was dressed in purple with a fish-shaped silver badge⁷ at her waist, a white handkerchief in her hand, and a silk scarf around her neck. Yang Siwen took a closer look by the light of the moon and saw that she bore a striking resemblance to Lady Zheng Yiniang, wife of his sworn brother Han Sihou, protocol officer in the Diplomacy Section of the Bureau of Military A airs.⁸ She was also the adopted daughter of Imperial Consort Qiao. As her husband, Officer Han, was Siwen’s fellow townsman, the two men had pledged brotherhood. Siwen used to address her as sister-in-law. Since separating, they had not heard from each other for quite some time. When their four eyes met, neither the woman in purple nor Siwen dared speak up. Instead, Siwen followed the carriage all the way to the Qin Tower in the city. The carriage drove in and the noble lady went upstairs, whereas the Jurchen officers took their seats downstairs. The Qin Tower was an impressively large tavern, about the same size as the Baifan Tower in the Eastern Capital. There were sixty rooms upstairs and between seventy and eighty tables with stools downstairs. That night, much wine was sold amid buoyant revelry.

After the noble lady entered the tavern, Yang Siwen also went in and summoned a waiter. At the sight of Siwen, the waiter made a deep bow, but Siwen raised him up and said, “Please dispense with such ceremony.” A closer look revealed him to be Chen San’er, formerly a waiter at the Baifan Tower in the Eastern Capital. Much delighted, Siwen asked him to sit, but San’er insisted that he would not presume to. Siwen said, “Both of us being from the old capital, for us to meet in a distant place is enough cause for sitting down together.” The waiter sat down with an apology. Siwen handed San’er five taels of silver and told him to bring out some fine wine and dishes of meat and vegetables.

In the course of their conversation over the meal, San’er said, “When I first came here in the second year of the Jingkang reign period, I was given to a military officer as a slave. Later, when the Qin Tower opened, I thought of my days at the Baifan Tower as a waiter, and so I redeemed myself by paying the officer eighty in cash each day and came to work here. I’m so happy to see you, sir.” As they conversed, a band somewhere struck up music. Siwen asked, “Where does all this music come from?”

“The music is played by the maids of the Lady of Han, who just went upstairs.”

Upon Siwen’s further inquiries about the lady, San’er said, “She is a most kind lady who often brings her maids and waiting women here for a cup of wine. I have often gone upstairs to serve them and she always gives nice tips.”

“I ran into her entourage just now by the roadside and saw, among the maids behind the carriage, a woman who looked like my sister-in-law, Lady Zheng. I could be mistaken, though.”

“I was also going to tell you that every time I went upstairs to serve them, I saw her, too, but I never dared to greet her for fear of making a mistake.”

“I have a favor to ask of you. Would you go up now to serve them? Look for Lady Zheng and tell her that I am waiting for her downstairs to ask her about my brother.”

Thus instructed, San’er went upstairs, while Siwen remained where he was, waiting. In a moment, San’er came down with a finger pressed against his lower lip, a gesture that Siwen knew was used by Eastern Capital residents to signal completion of a job.

“How did it go?” Siwen asked.

“I said to Lady Zheng, ‘Fifth Master Yang is waiting for you to go down so that he can ask you about your husband.’ The lady said tearfully, ‘So my brother-in-law is here, too. Please tell him that I’ll be down in a moment to speak to him.’”

Siwen thanked San’er, paid his bill, and stood waiting outside the door. Before long, he saw the attendants go in, and, a moment later, the Jurchen officers came out, escorting the carriage. After the carriage went past, Siwen saw, among the maids, his sister-in-law in a purple dress with a silver fish badge and a silk scarf around her neck. He stepped forward and asked, after some initial amenities, “Why are you not with my brother?”

Lady Zheng answered, wiping away her tears, “In the winter of the Jingkang year [1126], your brother and I went down the Huai River on a hired boat. We were at Xuyi when the boatman was hit by an arrow and the helmsman was cut down by a sword blow. I was then separated from my husband, who was captured by the barbarians. The barbarian chief, Marshal Saba, tried to take advantage of me, but I refused to submit and was brought here as a captive to Yanshan. Exasperated at my stubbornness and disgusted with my emaciated body, the marshal sold me to a family named Zu, which I later learned was in fact a brothel. Being the wife and daughter of court officials, I could not bear the humiliation of living like Su Xiaoqing.⁹ I chose to die like Mengjiangnü.¹⁰ So, when unobserved, I tried to hang myself with my girdle from a house beam, but I was found and saved from death. The Lady of Han, wife of Marshal Saba, heard about this and took pity on me. She ordered that I be taken care of and kept me as her maid. The scars on my neck have not yet healed. That’s why I wear a silk scarf around it. I didn’t know what had become of my husband after we parted during the confusion. Only recently did I hear that he escaped in disguise. He is now in Jinling.¹¹ He has taken up his old post and has been there for four years without having had the heart to remarry. I have burned incense, going as far as to burn some on the top of my head. I have also consulted fortune-tellers and prayed to the gods, hoping to escape to Jinling, but I have not yet found a way. Since I am nothing more than a slave waiting on the Lady of Han at the banquet table, I dare not talk with you for too long. Please ask every southerner you meet to send a message for me.” (This story told at the reunion could well have happened in a dream.)

Before Yang Siwen could ask more questions, a Jurchen officer with a mace in his hand came over and yelled, “How dare you seduce one of our slaves in the middle of the night?” He raised the mace and was about to strike right at Siwen’s face when Siwen ran away with all speed. The officer, being slow of foot, failed to catch up with him. Now out of the officer’s reach, Siwen hastily returned in a cold sweat to his uncle’s inn.

Surprised at Siwen’s agitated state, Zhang Er asked, “Why do you look so flustered?” At Siwen’s account of what had happened, Zhang Er heaved many a sigh. He set out some wine to drink with Siwen to cheer him up, but the latter was in no mood for wine, so disturbed was he by his thoughts of his brother Protocol Officer Han and sister-in-law Lady Zheng.

Thus it was that he spent the Lantern Festival in low spirits. When the third month came, Zhang Er said to him, “I’ll be going away for a couple of days. Will you take care of the inn while I’m away?”

“Why are you going away?” asked Siwen.

“Now that the two states are at peace, I’m going to Weiyang to make some purchases. I’ll be back soon.”

With his uncle gone, Yang Siwen felt bored, left all alone by himself, and the long days of spring made him drowsy. He went out and took a leisurely walk to the Qin Tower. After he looked around for a while, a waiter approached him and called out with a salute, “Fifth Master Yang!” It was not Chen San’er, but his face looked familiar. Who could he be?

The waiter introduced himself: “I am Little Wang. I used to work at the Yuxian Tavern in the Eastern Capital. Chen San’er was summoned by his master, the military officer, a few days ago, and he is not allowed to come out.”

Now that Chen San’er was gone, Yang Siwen sank into deeper gloom. He ordered some appetizers, without really caring what they were, and asked Little Wang, “The Lady of Han who came here for a drink on the night of the Lantern Festival—do you happen to know where she lives?”

“I asked her attendants and was told that she lives behind Lord of Heaven Monastery.” Before the words were quite out of Wang’s mouth, Siwen raised his head and saw a poem written on the wall, its ink still wet. A closer look revealed a line of explanation that said, “This poem was written by Han Sihou of Changli when passing Lake Huangtian on a boat trip from Jinling, to mourn his deceased wife, Zheng-shi.” The poem, to the tune of “Walking on Palace Steps,” is as follows:

Yang Siwen was aghast after reading the poem. “This is my brother Han Sihou’s handwriting. So he believes his wife is dead, but I saw her with my own eyes in the Qin Tower on the fifteenth of the first month. She spoke with me and said she was a maid for the Lady of Han. But he says she is dead. How strange!” In disbelief, he asked Little Wang, “Where is the man who wrote this poem? The ink is still wet.”

“I have no idea. Now that the two states are at peace, envoys from the south have come here and lodged at the government inn. A group of four or five of them were here for a drink just a short while ago, and one of them must have written the poem.”

Storyteller, this could not be true! How can envoys on a mission to another state go out freely to buy drinks? Well, according to The Records of Yijian,¹² at that time there was as yet no prohibition on official envoys’ free association with local people.

To continue with our story, on that day, which was the fifteenth of the third month, Yang Siwen asked where the government inn was located. Little Wang said, “It’s in the southern part of town.” Thereupon, Siwen paid his bill, went downstairs, and hurriedly proceeded to the inn to look for Han Sihou. Upon arrival, he saw Su and Xu, two protocol officers, at the door, looking around idly. Being old acquaintances of Yang’s, they recognized him and came over to exchange greetings.

“What brought you here, Mr. Yang?” they asked.

“I am here to look for my brother, Protocol Officer Han.”

“He’s inside in a discussion session. Let’s go in and bring him out.” So saying, they went inside and brought Han to the door.

At the sight of Protocol Officer Han, Siwen hastened to make a bow, overwhelmed by mixed feelings of joy and sadness at the reunion in Yanshan with a beloved friend far away from home.

“Is my sister-in-law well?” asked Siwen.

Tears coursed down Sihou’s cheeks as he replied, “In the winter of the year of Jingkang, I hired a boat and was going down the Huai River with her when, at Xuyi, the boatman was hit by an arrow and the helmsman was cut down by a sword blow. Your sister-in-law was taken away, while I was captured and taken to an enemy camp in the wilds. At the third watch of the night, I pleaded my way out, without knowing if my wife was dead or alive. Later, while lying low in the grass, a servant of mine, Zhou Yi, saw her reject advances from the barbarian Marshal Saba and cut her own throat to end the humiliation. I made my way back to where the emperor was and regained my old post.”

“Did you see what happened to her with your own eyes?”

“No. It was Zhou Yi who told me about it.”

Siwen continued, “I believe she is alive. During the last Lantern Festival, I saw her with the Lady of Han on an outing to the Qin Tower. I asked Chen San’er the waiter to send a message upstairs for her to come down and see me. The first part of her account tallied with yours. She also said that you have regained your old post but have not had the heart to remarry in the last four years.”

Sihou found these words hard to believe. Siwen went on, “It’s easy to find out if she’s dead or alive. Why don’t you go with me to the residence of the Lady of Han, behind Lord of Heaven Monastery, to ask what really happened?”

Sihou agreed, “That’s a good idea.” He went back into the inn to notify his colleagues and then set o with Siwen, bringing a valet with him.

In a short while, they reached the area behind the monastery. It was a deserted place without a soul in sight. All that met their eyes was an abandoned house, its locked front gate covered with cobwebs, its windows laden with dust, its doorsteps overgrown with weeds, and the ground green with moss. Yang Siwen said, “We might have to use the back gate.”

They walked along the wall and, dozens of steps later, came upon a house in which an old man was plaiting silk cords. They stepped forward and greeted him with a bow, saying, “Could you tell us where the entrance to the residence of the Lady of Han is?”

The old man, short in temper and rude in manners, paid them no attention. Upon further questioning, he said only that he did not know. Soon, there came along an old woman carrying a hamper and mumbling complaints against the old man. The two visitors greeted her and she returned the greeting in an Eastern Capital accent. The two men asked where the house of the Lady of Han was. The old woman was about to answer when the old man grumbled something, trying to quiet her. Ignoring him, the old woman said to the two visitors, “I am from the Eastern Capital, but this old man is from the uncivilized province of Shandong. It is my bad luck to be married to this brute who has not a grain of sense. I serve him meals and tea everyday, but he’s still full of complaints. What a disgusting man! What do you have against my answering the gentlemen’s questions?”

The old man started mumbling again. Paying him no attention, the old woman told the two visitors, “It is the locked empty house ahead.”

Much startled, the two men asked, “But where is the lady?”

“She died the year before last. The family moved away. She was buried in the garden. If you don’t believe this, would you care to go with me for a look?”

The old man objected, “Don’t go! If the authorities hear about this, I’ll be getting into trouble as well.”

The old woman turned a deaf ear to his protests and took the visitors along. On the way, they asked, “There’s a Zheng Yiniang in the lady’s household. Is she still around?”

The old woman said, “Might you be Protocol Officer Han Sihou? Is the other gentleman Fifth Master Yang?”

In astonishment, the two men exclaimed, “How do you know?”

“I’ve heard Lady Zheng talk about you.”

Sihou asked further, “How did you know her? Where is my wife now?”

The old woman replied, “Two years ago, there was a Marshal Saba who established a household here. His wife, the Lady of Han from the Cui family, was a most compassionate woman of a kind hard to come by. She often asked me into the house, and I heard her talk about a woman called Zheng Yiniang who was captured by the Marshal at Xuyi. The marshal took quite a fancy to her, but she swore never to be humiliated, and cut her own throat. Respectful of her chastity, the Lady of Han had her cremated and her ashes stored in a box. Later, after the Lady of Han died, the ash box was buried with her in this yard. Lady Zheng is dead, but she certainly looked no di erent than a live human being in flesh and blood. When I went into the yard, I often saw her come out. I was scared at first, but she said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Granny, I won’t hurt you. I just want to tell you my misfortunes.’ She said she was Zheng Yiniang from the Eastern Capital. She was adopted at an early age by Imperial Consort Qiao and, later in her life, married court officer Han Sihou. She also told me that he had a sworn brother, Yang Siwen, otherwise known as Fifth Master Yang. I also learned about what happened at Xuyi. She said, ‘My husband, for whom I died to preserve my chastity, is now an official in Jinling.’ On rainy days, I would go into the garden to chat with her. If you want more details, you will be able to see for yourselves.”

When the company of three arrived at the big locked house, the old woman climbed over the wall, followed by the two men. What came into their view was a deserted garden that had been left to run wild. They walked through the grass and the withered flowers as they searched without avail for the woman. In one of the three large rooms facing south stood a screen with a landscape by Guo Xi.¹³ Sihou was looking at the painting when his eyes strayed to a few lines of writing on the wall. A closer inspection revealed a gentle and delicate penmanship that was just like that of Lady Zheng Yiniang. Overjoyed, he said, “Fifth brother, your sister-in-law is indeed here!”

“How do you know?” asked Siwen.

Sihou showed him the poem. It was a lyric poem to the tune of “Happy Events Approaching”:

At the end of the poem was a line that said, “Written the day after the third full moon of the year.” The two men were taken aback: “So she wrote it today! Isn’t this amazing!” As they moved farther along to another side, a tower came into sight. Holding on to the railings, the two men helped the old woman mount the stairs. Up there was another large screen inscribed in the same handwriting with a song titled “In Memory of My Love”:

Having read the poem, Han Sihou said, his hand stroking the wall, “How tragic that my wife was taken captive!”

His eyes were still on the poem when he heard Yang Siwen cry out, “My sister-in-law is here!” Turning around, Sihou saw a woman with a silk scarf around her neck approaching. Upon a closer look, Siwen recognized her as the very same woman he had met at the Qin Tower. (As in a dream.) The old woman also cried, “The lady is here!” In amazement, the three of them rushed downstairs, only to see her turn into the left corridor at the back, heading toward a pavilion. The two men were seized with fear, but the old woman said, “Since we are already here, why don’t we go into the pavilion for a look?” She led them there and found the door closed. A board on the door bore this inscription: “Memorial Hall of the Lady of Han.” The old woman pushed open the latticed door and they stepped in. In the middle, set up to receive o erings, was a spirit tablet with the words “My deceased wife, the Lady of Han.” To one side were a portrait of Yiniang and another spirit tablet with the inscription “Maid Zheng Yiniang.” The altar in front was covered with a thick layer of dust. At the sight of the portrait, which, in clothing and appearance, di ered not in the least from Siwen’s description, Han Sihou broke down in passionate weeping.

The old woman said, “The box with Lady Zheng’s ashes is under the table. She often spoke of it and showed it to me. It’s a black lacquer box with two copper rings. Every time she mentioned the box, she would cry and say to me, ‘I died with no regrets, for I died out of loyalty to my husband.’”

At these words, Sihou asked the old woman, with a promise of a handsome reward, to help him pry up the floor bricks and take out the box for a burial in Jinling. She agreed. The three of them moved aside the altar, pried up the bricks, and reached for the box. However hard they tried, the box would not budge. The harder they tried, the firmer it stuck to the ground.

“Stop! Stop!” cried Siwen. “She is showing her power, my brother. If the box is to be taken away, there must be a proper ceremony. Let’s leave this place for now to prepare for a sacrificial ceremony complete with an elegy in her honor. Only then can the box be taken away.”

Han Sihou agreed, “There is much sense in what you say.” The three of them climbed over the wall again and went to the old woman’s house, where they told the servant Zhang Jin to buy some wine, meat, incense, and candles and composed an elegy right there in the old woman’s house. When daylight came, they carried the o erings with the help of the old woman and the servant, climbed over the wall, and laid everything out in the memorial hall.

By the third watch of the night, the incense and the candle had almost burned out, and the cups and plates were found to be in disarray. As the constellations crossed the Milky Way, Sihou poured out three libations and, standing by the altar table, read the elegy aloud, shedding copious tears. When the elegy was burned together with paper money, there sprang up a gust of strong wind. The candlelight flickered in a way that sent chills down their spines. As the wind blew past, a fit of weeping became audible. (Very much like a dream.) After the wind died down, the flicker steadied itself into a flame, bringing into view a woman with a face as fresh as a flower and with skin as smooth as jade. A silk scarf around her neck, she straightened her sleeves, moved forward in mincing steps, and greeted Yang Siwen. In astonishment, the two men returned the greeting. Han Sihou stepped forward tearfully and reached for her hand.

After much weeping, Lady Zheng said to Sihou, “By now, you should have learned what happened at Xuyi. At the Qin Tower on the night of the Lantern Festival when I met my brother-in-law, I did not have the chance to say all I wanted to say. If I had clung to life, I would have brought disgrace to my husband. Luckily, I treasured your good name like jade and treated my own life as dust. That is how we came to be parted by death, to my eternal sorrow.” With these words, she broke down in another fit of weeping.

The old woman tried to comfort her, saying, “Don’t cry now. Let’s talk about moving your remains away from here.”

Holding back her tears, Lady Zheng sat down. While the other three partook of food and wine, she did nothing more than sni at the aroma.

“When I saw you at the Qin Tower on the night of the Lantern Festival,” said Siwen, “you were waiting on the Lady of Han. Were the many attendants behind the carriage ghosts or humans?”

“In times of peace,” she replied, “humans and ghosts live in separate worlds, but in these current times, humans and ghosts mix. None of those in the entourage was a living being.”

Sihou said, “Since my good wife died for my sake, if only to show my gratitude, I shall never remarry. What do you say if we move your remains back to Jinling?”

The lady objected: “Please listen to me, while both Granny and Brother-in-law are here. Since you have been so kind as to take pity on my lonely soul, how would I be loath to return home with you? But you should visit me often so that our love can be kept alive across the two worlds. Should you remarry, you will certainly forget me. If it turns out that way, I would rather stay here.”

No amount of persuasion from the three of them could shake her from her resolve. Turning to Siwen, she said, “My brother-in-law, how can you not know my brother! When I was alive, his weakness for women was such that it was hard to keep him in check. Now that I am dead, it is a matter of course that he will, if he is to have his way, abandon the old in favor of the new.” (Her repeated refusals are meant to strengthen her husband’s resolve. But why should a ghost be jealous?)

Siwen tried again to plead with her: “Please listen to me, my sister-in-law. My brother is now a di erent man. Out of gratitude for your honorable death, he will never take another woman for a wife. Now that he is here to take you back, how can you have the heart to refuse him? Please take my advice.”

“I thank my brother-in-law for taking such pains to o er me words of counsel. If my husband is indeed to remain true and will take an oath now, I will gladly follow him.”

At these words, Sihou poured wine on the ground and said, as an oath, “In the event that I break my promise, may I be killed by bandits when traveling on land or, if I travel on water, may my boat capsize in huge waves.”

The lady protested in haste, “Stop, stop. You don’t have to swear like that. Since you are determined not to remarry, my brother-in-law will be a witness.” This said, a gust of fragrant wind sprang up. She disappeared as the wind blew past. Astounded, the three of them relit the candles, lifted up the brick under the altar, and took out the box without the least e ort. Having gathered the things together, they climbed over the wall and went to the home of the old woman. The following evening, they thanked the old woman with three taels of silver, and Sihou presented Siwen with ten taels of gold over the latter’s repeated protests. After bidding farewell to Siwen, Sihou returned to the inn, accompanied by his servant Zhang Jin, who carried the box. It was about a month later that he received his commission to return to the south. Siwen set out wine for a farewell dinner, reminding him over and over again, “Brother, don’t forget my sister-in-law’s words.”

Carrying the box of the lady’s remains, Sihou and his party left the city of Yanshan by Fengyi Gate to return south. About a month later, they reached Xuyi and found lodging in an inn. There, a man came up to Sihou with a bow of greeting. Sihou recognized him to be Zhou Yi, his former servant, who now worked at the inn. He led Sihou into a room containing a portrait of a woman on the wall and a spirit tablet, on which was written, “Lady Zheng, my master’s deceased wife.” To queries from a surprised Sihou, Zhou Yi answered, “Having witnessed how the lady died for you to preserve her chastity, how could I not set up a shrine in her honor?” Thereupon Sihou gave Zhou Yi a full account of everything that had happened in the house of the Lady of Han in Yanshan and showed him the box of remains. Zhou Yi kowtowed in bitter sobs. That night, Sihou and Zhou shared the same bed, head to foot and foot to head.

At the first light of dawn the following day, Zhou Yi said to Sihou, “In the old days, there were more than twenty people in your household, but now I have only my own shadow to look at. I would much rather follow you to Jinling and serve you again.” Sihou agreed and brought Zhou Yi back to Jinling. Sihou returned to the tribunal and presented his superiors with the letter of reply. Zhou Yi then followed Sihou to the hills, where they selected a burial site and buried the remains with the proper rites. Beside himself with grief, Sihou went to the grave every three days with sacrificial o erings and returned only when dusk had set in. Zhou Yi was given the task of watching over the grave.

One day, Protocol Officers Su and Xu said to Sihou, “Liu Jintan, abbess of Saturn Convent here in Jinling, though a woman, is most virtuous and noble. Why don’t we go to her convent for a memorial service in honor of your deceased wife?” Sihou agreed. On a selected day, he went to the convent with Su and Xu to visit Liu Jintan. You may well ask, how was she dressed?

The moment Han Sihou laid eyes on the abbess, his soul took flight, and he stood there stupefied, eyes unblinking and mouth agape. After the exchange of greetings, Jintan gave instructions for holding a service and invited the visitors to go inside for a look at a magic mushroom. The three of them walked past Double Purity Hall and Emerald Flower Pavilion and turned from Eight Trigram Altar into Crimson Silk Hall, where the magic mushroom was kept. While the others were gathered around the magic mushroom, Sihou slipped into the abbess’s cell and looked around. His eyes swept from the bright windows and clean tables to the objects of art placed throughout the room. On the desk was an array of stationery items. From under a paperweight, he drew out a piece of paper on which was inscribed a lyric poem to the tune of “Sand of the Silk-Washing Stream” (Very much like Chen Miaochang.¹⁴ This must be the way with all nuns and monks):

Han Sihou’s desires had already been stirred up at the first sight of Jintan’s beauty. These words plunged him deeper into yearning. He wrote a lyric poem to the tune of “The Moon over the West River”:

Clapping his hands, he chanted the poem at the top of his voice. Jintan’s expression hardened. In rage, she lashed out, “What is the meaning of this? How dare you take advantage of my helplessness to sully the name of my convent! Get me my sedan-chair! I’m going to the authorities. They will know what to do with you.”

However hard Su and Xu tried to stop her, she turned a deaf ear. Han Sihou took out from his bosom the poem she had written and showed it to them, saying, “Don’t be so upset, my good abbess. Who is the author of these lines?”

Jintan was so consternated that she wished she could hide herself. Her scowl softened to a radiant smile. She laid out a banquet in honor of the guests. Amid the drinking and the carousing, everything about the memorial service was forgotten. Both being amorously disposed toward each other, they did not part company until well intoxicated with wine.

Now this Liu Jintan was a native of the Eastern Capital. Her husband, Feng the Sixth, had been the recipient of edicts in the Bureau of Military A airs. During the Jingkang reign period, the couple had fled to Jinling on a hired boat. When on the Huai River, Feng the Sixth was shot by an arrow and fell into the water to his death. His wife, Liu-shi, vowed to enter the Taoist order in Saturn Convent in honor of her late husband’s memory. Her fame having thus spread to the court and through the public, she was appointed to be its abbess. After this visit, Han Sihou began to frequent the convent.

One day, Su and Xu pooled their money, prepared some gifts, and treated Liu Jintan and Han Sihou to dinner at the convent. After several rounds of wine, Su and Xu held up their cups and made this suggestion to Sihou and Jintan: “Your love for each other is due to a predestined marriage bond. With all the rumors floating around, you can’t very well go on like this. Why don’t you, Jintan, return to secular life and marry our brother with proper ceremonies, complete with wedding gifts and a matchmaker? Wouldn’t that be nice!”

Sihou and Jintan accepted their counsel. Jintan paid a fee for permission to return to secular life. Sihou selected a day, and the wedding ceremony duly took place. She ceased to mourn her deceased husband, nor did he continue to visit his wife’s grave. Hand in hand, they leaned against the window and exchanged tender words of love.

Some days after the wedding, Zhou Yi, whose job it was to watch the grave, went to the Han residence to find out why Mr. Han had stopped visiting the grave. He asked the gatekeeper, “Why has the master not been seen at the grave for some days?”

The gatekeeper replied, “Mr. Han is newly married to Liu Jintan of Saturn Convent and has no time to go to the grave anymore.”

Being a tactless northerner, Zhou Yi smoldered with indignation at these words. As coincidence would have it, he ran straight into Sihou, who was on his way out. After the greeting, Zhou Yi exploded, “Master, what a heartless man you are! Lady Zheng died for your sake. How could you have taken another wife?” While lashing out at him, Zhou Yi also wept for Lady Zheng.

Afraid that the commotion would not reflect well on his newly wedded status, Han Sihou sharply ordered the gatekeeper to drive Zhou Yi out. A dispirited Zhou Yi returned to his hut by the grave. That day being the Clear and Bright Festival,¹⁵ Zhou Yi tearfully complained to the grave about what had happened. At the third watch of the night, Lady Zheng called out to Zhou Yi, “Where does your master live now?”

Zhou Yi told her all he knew about how Sihou had broken faith and remarried. “He now lives on Sanshiliuzhang Street. Why don’t you go and settle things with him?”

The lady answered, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Zhou Yi woke up with a start from the dream. A cold sweat broke out all over his body.

In the meantime, the newly wedded happy couple were enjoying the moonlight at a table laid out with wine. In the midst of the drinking, Liu-shi suddenly grabbed Sihou and, with her willowlike eyebrows knit in an angry frown and her starry eyes wide open, she cried, “You owe me too much! Pay me back with your life!” The voice was that of Lady Zheng.

Seized with fear and at a loss what to do, Sihou pleaded, “My good wife, please forgive me.” But the grip remained firm. While he was struggling, Su and Xu, out on a walk in the moonlight to visit Sihou, appeared on the scene. At the sight of Liu-shi keeping a tight grip on Sihou, the two men came forward and released him. Sihou scurried away and, after taking counsel with Su and Xu, decided to have Priest Zhu of Iron Chain Temple of Bamboo Bridge perform an exorcism. Zhang Jin the servant was sent immediately to bring the priest over.

When he saw Liu-shi, Priest Zhu said, “The injustice done to her was so great that this case is beyond me. The only thing left for me to do is to o er her some soothing words.”

Slapping her own face and mouth, Liu-shi gave the priest a tearful account of what had happened in Yanshan, adding, “Please be compassionate in your judgment, Your Honor.”

The priest tried to placate her by saying repeatedly, “There will surely be a memorial service for you to redeem your soul. If you refuse to stop this behavior, you will be violating the laws of heaven.”

At these words, Liu-shi thanked the priest with a sob and said, “I will go now.”

It was some moments before Liu-shi regained consciousness. The priest drew a magic charm for her to eat¹⁶ and posted some ghost-expelling signs on the door before he left. That night passed without further ado.

The following day, Sihou brought some incense and paper to Bamboo Bridge to thank the priest. Barely had he sat down when a servant of his came to report that his wife was possessed again. To Sihou’s pleas to go to his house for another exorcism, the priest replied, “If this thing is to be put to an end once and for all, you will need to dig up the grave and dump the box of remains into the Yangzi River. Only then will you never be bothered again.” Sihou had no better choice than to do as the priest said. He hired laborers, went with them to the grave, dug it open, took out the box, and threw it into the Yangzi River. From then on, Liu-shi was herself again. How preposterous that such ingrates were not met with retribution from heaven!

So Sihou betrayed Zheng Yiniang and Liu Jintan betrayed Feng the Sixth, the recipient of edicts. In the eleventh year of the Shaoxing reign period [1141], the emperor moved to Qiantang,¹⁷ followed by officials and civilians. Sihou also left Jinling and took his family farther south. When they reached Zhenjiang, Sihou wished to revisit the scenic Jin Mountain. He hired a boat and went on board with his wife, Liu-shi. When they were in midstream, the boatman burst into a song to the tune of “Happy Events Approaching”:

Sihou was appalled, for it was the very poem that was written on the screen by Zheng Yiniang, maid of the Lady of Han in Yanshan. “Where did you learn this poem?”

The boatman answered, “Recently, an envoy went up north to Yanshan and heard this song all over the city. The lyrics were originally on a screen in the house of the Lady of Han and were recorded by an old woman who plaits cords for a living. (Picking up an earlier thread.) The story is that there was a Zheng Yiniang, wife of an official south of the Yangzi, who died to preserve her chastity. Later, her husband took her remains back to the south, and the poem came to be spread throughout the empire and beyond.”

These words were like ten thousand knives stabbing at Sihou’s heart. Tears coursed down his face. In a trice, a storm sprang up. Waves surged furiously, sending up sheets of spray and mist. Strange-looking fish appeared and vanished, and river monsters threw the waves higher. There emerged from the waves a man wearing a square cap, who grabbed Liu-shi by her hair and threw her into the river. “Madam fell into the water!” The maid shouted at the top of her voice and called Sihou for help, but Liu-shi was already far beyond any hope of rescue. The next moment, a woman appeared. A silk-scarf around her neck, her eyes blazing with anger, she seized Sihou and dragged him into the depths of the waters, and there he drowned. There was nothing the boatman could do, much as he wished to help. In low spirits, he went back home. Alas! Such has been the fate of all heartless ingrates of times old and new, and therefore I pass this story on. As the poem says,