In the dead of night, windy and moonless,

A ghost travels far to honor a pledge.

16

The Chicken-and-Millet Dinner for Fan Juqing, Friend in Life and Death

The above poem, titled “On Friendship,” laments the difficulties in forming friendships. I shall now tell of a scholar named Zhang Shao, courtesy name Yuanbo, who lived in Nancheng of Ruzhou at the time of Emperor Ming [r. 58–75] of the Han dynasty. Son of a farmer, he educated himself through assiduous studies but remained unmarried at the age of thirty-five. His mother being nearly sixty-years old, he and his younger brother, Zhang Qin, worked hard in the fields to eke out a living.

At that time, the emperor was recruiting worthy men to enter his service. Zhang Shao took leave of his mother and brother and, a bag of books on his back, set out on a journey to Luoyang, the Eastern Capital, to take the examinations. The journey was to take several days.

One evening when he had covered most of the distance to Luoyang, he went to an inn for lodging. During the night, he heard repeated cries from an adjoining room. At last he asked the waiter if he knew who was making the noise on the other side of the wall. The waiter answered, “It’s a scholar who’s dying from a disease that’s going around.”

“Since he’s a scholar, I owe him a visit,” said Zhang Shao.

The clerk objected, “The disease is contagious. Even we keep away from him. You’d better not go, sir.”

Shao insisted, “Life or death is a matter of fate. How can a disease be contagious? (By no means conventional thinking.) I must go and see him.”

Over the waiter’s protests, Shao pushed open the door and went in. Lying on his back on an earthen bed was a sallow-faced and emaciated man crying for help. Noticing in the room a bag of books and some articles of clothing, all of which bespoke a candidate on his way to take the examinations, Shao bent down and said into the man’s ear, “You have nothing to fear, sir. I, Zhang Shao, am also a candidate for the examinations. I shall do my best to help you in your grave illness and serve you medicine and porridge. You can rest easy now.”

The man said, “If you can help me get well, I shall certainly repay you well.”

Shao had someone call a doctor, who dispensed some medicine. He himself attended to the patient’s needs, serving him medicine and porridge. (Such devotion is hard to come by.)

Several days later, the patient broke out in a sweat, and his condition improved. Gradually he was able to breathe normally and regained his ability to stand up and walk. Shao found out that he was called Fan Shi, courtesy name Juqing, and that he was forty years old and a native of Shanyang in Chuzhou. He had been born into a family of merchants but lost his parents at an early age and was now married and had a son. He was there on his way to Luoyang to take the examinations, determined to abandon the life of a merchant. However, by the time Fan Juqing had fully recovered, the examinations were already over. Fan said, “The fact that my illness kept you from your pursuit of a career weighs heavily on my conscience.”

Shao rejoined, “A true man values friendship and loyalty above all else. Fame and fortune are too trivial by comparison. Since it is all a matter of fate, how can you talk about having kept me from my pursuit of a career?” (One who is ready to sacrifice his own chances at fame and fortune for the benefit of a friend is indeed a man with a true sense of loyalty and honor.)

Henceforth, the two men developed a friendship as close as flesh and blood, and took an oath of brotherhood. As Fan Shi was the older of the two by five years, Zhang Shao honored him as older brother.

After pledging brotherhood, they stayed together day and night, and thus half a year went by before they knew it. As Fan Shi wished to return home, Zhang Shao settled the bill with the innkeeper, and the two men set out on the journey. A few days later, at the point where they were to part company, Zhang Shao o ered to go with Fan Shi farther down the road, but Fan Shi objected, saying, “If you do, I will need to walk you back. It’s best for us to say good-bye here and set up a time to meet again.”

As they went into a wineshop for a drink, their eyes fell upon yellow chrysanthemums and red leaves, a riot of autumn colors that provided a cheerful setting for the scene of farewell. The sight of dogwood petals floating in the wine cups prompted them to ask the shopkeeper what day it was. They were told that it was the Double-Ninth Festival.¹

Fan Shi said, “Since my parents died when I was young, I have submitted myself to a life as a merchant. However hard I try to apply myself to my studies of the classics, I am hampered by my wife and son. My good brother, you are fortunate that your mother is still with you. Since your mother is also my mother, I will come to your house on this day next year to pay my respects to her in acknowledgement of the family tie.”

“But our home in a humble village has hardly anything to o er to you,” said Zhang Shao. “Yet, since you will have the goodness to come, I shall prepare some chicken and millet for you. Please do not let me down.”

“How could I ever let my good brother down?” said Fan Shi.

After several drinks, they still could not bear to take leave of each other, but Zhang Shao bowed to Fan Shi in a gesture of farewell, and, after Fan had turned away, he tearfully gazed at his back. Fan Shi also looked back, tears in his eyes, and so they sadly took leave of each other, as these lines attest:

Upon his return, Zhang Yuanbo went to his mother, who said to him, “My son, you sent no message home all the time you were away. I’ve been waiting for you as the hungry and thirsty wait for food and drink.”

“Your unfilial son,” said Zhang Shao, “met Fan Juqing of Shanyang on his way to the examination site and pledged brotherhood with him. That is why I was delayed for so long.”

“What kind of man is Juqing?”

After Zhang Shao’s detailed description, she commented, “Fame and fortune are all a matter of fate. I am pleased that you have made friends with a man who has a true sense of loyalty.” (What a good mother! Like mother, like son.)

In a short while, Zhang Shao’s younger brother came home. Zhang Shao repeated his account, and his brother also was delighted to hear it.

Henceforth Zhang Shao applied himself anew to the study of the classics, and thus time sped by. Soon the Double-Ninth Festival was drawing near. Shao had raised a fat chicken and brewed some wine for the occasion. On the day of the festival, he rose bright and early and swept clean the main hall, in the middle of which he placed a chair for his mother and, to one side, a chair for Fan Juqing. Having filled the vases with chrysanthemums and lit the incense sticks on the table, he called his brother to help him kill the chicken and get the meal ready in Juqing’s honor.

“Shanyang is a good thousand li away from here,” said his mother. “Juqing might not be able to come on time. It won’t be too late to kill the chicken after he arrives.”

“Juqing is a man of his word,” rejoined Shao. “He will surely be here today to keep the ‘chicken-and-millet’ appointment. If he sees what I promised to serve for the meal the moment he steps in, he will know that I have indeed been waiting for him. If I kill the chicken after his arrival, my sincerity will be less apparent.”

“Any friend of my son’s must be a worthy man,” said his mother.

Thereupon, preparation of the chicken got under way in anticipation of the guest’s arrival.

It was a fine day without a cloud in the vast expanse of clear sky. Shao adjusted his clothes and cap and stood at the farm gate by himself on the lookout for his friend, but the better part of the morning went by without any sign of a visitor. Afraid that farm work would be delayed, his mother told Zhang Qin to reap the crops in the fields. At each dog-bark in the next village, Zhang Shao would go forth expectantly, and thus he went back and forth six or seven times. Meanwhile, the red sun sank below the western horizon, yielding to a new crescent moon. The old lady emerged from the door and told her younger son to relay these words to Shao: “You must be tired from standing so long. It looks like Juqing is not coming today. Why don’t you come back for dinner?”

Shao said to his brother, “How do you know Juqing is not coming? I swear not to return until he is here. Now you must be tired from the farm work. You should go ahead and take a rest.” And so he turned a deaf ear to repeated pleas from his mother and brother, and waited till night deepened. After everyone had retired for the night, Shao still leaned against the gate as if in a trance. At every rustle of the wind in the trees and grass, he would startle and think to himself, “Might this be him?” But all that could be seen was the dark sky bestrewn with the shining stars of the Milky Way. At almost the third watch of the night, the moonlight faded away. In the engulfing darkness, there appeared indistinctly a human figure approaching along with the wind. A close look convinced Shao that it was Juqing. Shao leapt with joy and said with two bows, “I have been waiting for you since this morning, knowing that you would not fail me, and here you are indeed! The chicken and the millet that I promised you last year have long been ready for serving. It’s been a long and tiring journey. Didn’t you bring a companion with you? Please go into the hall and meet my mother.”

Without a word of reply, Fan Shi headed straight for the hall. Zhang Shao pointed at the seat reserved for him and said, “I put this seat of honor here especially for you.” Smiling radiantly, Zhang Shao continued, with two more deep bows, “You must be tired from such a long journey. Before you go to see my mother, please take some of the homemade wine, the chicken that I raised, and the millet to stay your hunger.” So saying, he made another bow.

Fan Shi stood rigidly without uttering a word, shielding his face with his sleeve. Shao rushed into the kitchen and came back with the chicken, millet, and wine, which he placed in front of Fan, saying with two more bows, “Humble as the o er is, it comes from my heart. Please don’t reproach me.”

In the darkness, Fan was seen fanning the aroma toward his nose, without taking any of the food and wine.²

Shao asked, “Is it because my mother and brother failed to go out of the house to meet you that you refuse to eat? Please allow me to bring my mother out, and we will apologize together to you.”

Fan shook his hand in protest. Shao continued, “Then, shall I call my younger brother forth to greet you?” Fan shook his hand again.

“In that case, said Shao, “would you like to have some chicken and millet before I o er you some wine?”

Fan frowned as if telling Zhang Shao to step back. Shao said, “However inappropriate chicken and millet are for an honored guest, these are what I promised you before. Please do not take o ense.”

“Please take a step back, my brother,” said Fan. “I will tell you everything. I am not a mortal of this world, but a ghost from the netherworld.”

Shao was aghast. “How can you say such a thing?”

“After we parted, I was preoccupied with business concerns in order to support my wife and son. I was so deeply entangled in worldly a airs that a whole year went by without my noticing it. It is not that I didn’t have our ‘chicken-and-millet’ appointment at heart, but that worries about puny business profits pushed the date of the appointment out of my mind. I did not know that today was the Double-Ninth Festival until this morning, when my neighbors sent over some dogwood wine. I was heartbroken when I realized I had forgotten about the appointment with you. The thousand-li distance from Shanyang to your place is not to be covered within one day. But should I have failed to keep the appointment, what would my good brother have thought of me? If a promise for such a trivial thing were to be easily broken, what would happen if a matter of greater importance were at stake? (What can be of greater importance than death? For whatever they do, men of heroic mettle have in mind not what lies immediately under their eyes but what will last for generations to come.) I was at my wit’s end when I recalled a saying by the ancients: ‘A man cannot travel a thousand li, but a ghost can in one day.’ So I told my wife, ‘After I die, do not bury me until my brother Zhang Yuanbo comes.’ That said, I cut my own throat, and my spirit rode on a gust of wind from the netherworld to be here for the ‘chicken-and-millet’ appointment. Please be compassionate, forgive my negligence, and appreciate my sincerity in committing this act of violence. If you can leave your home and take a thousand-li journey to Shanyang for a look at my body, I shall close my eyes in death without regret.” With tears gushing from his eyes, he abruptly left his seat and went down the steps. Shao followed, but a false step landed him on a patch of moss, and he fell to the ground. After a pu of chilly wind blew past, Juqing disappeared from view. There is a poem in evidence:

As if in a trance, Zhang Shao burst into loud wails of grief. In alarm, his mother and brother rose and rushed out for a look, only to see a display of chicken, millet, wine, and fruit in the hall, and Zhang Yuanbo lying unconscious on the ground. They revived him with a splash of water and helped him into the hall. For a considerable time he could not speak a word but kept weeping bitterly.

His mother asked, “Why are you so upset about your brother Juqing not showing up? Is so much crying worth it?”

“Juqing died before his time in order to keep the appointment with me.”

“How do you know this?”

“Just a moment ago, I saw Juqing come with my own eyes. I invited him in and o ered him the chicken and millet. Because he didn’t take any of the food, I pleaded with him time and again until he said that his business concerns had made him forget the appointment until this morning when he woke up. Afraid of breaking his promise, he cut his own throat, and his spirit traveled a thousand li to see me. Mother, please let me go to Shanyang to bury my elder brother’s body. I will pack and set out as early as tomorrow morning.”

His mother said between sobs, “The ancients said, ‘A prisoner dreams about pardon; a thirsty man dreams about water.’ My son, what appeared to you was a dream, because you have been thinking about him all the time.”

“That was no dream. I did indeed see him. The wine and the food are still here. I fell when I tried to follow him. How could this have been a dream? Juqing is a man of integrity. How could he have told a lie?”

His younger brother said, “I don’t believe what I hear. We should ask someone who goes to Shanyang to find out if all this is true.”

Shao said in reply, “Human lives are subordinate to the laws of heaven and earth. To match the five elements of heaven and earth—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—there are, in people, the five virtues of benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and fidelity, and among them, the virtue of overriding importance is that of fidelity. Benevolence matches wood because of its life-generating quality. Righteousness matches metal because it shares the quality of firmness. Courtesy matches water because of its humble modesty. Wisdom matches fire because of its brilliance. Fidelity matches earth because of its weightiness. Confucius said, ‘If carriages, large or small, lack the means to hold in place the crossbars that yoke oxen or horses to them, what is there to make them go?’³ Also, ‘Since time immemorial, people have had to die, but they cannot survive if there is no trust.’⁴ Juqing died for the sake of fidelity. How can I fail to go because of a lack of fidelity? My younger brother’s farm work should produce enough to support Mother. After I’m gone, you should be doubly respectful, and serve Mother day and night with never a misstep.” (This trip will mean his death. Surely Juqing’s death cannot be unaccompanied by Zhang Shao’s death.)

He turned to his mother and said these words of farewell: “This unfilial son Zhang Shao has to go to mourn his sworn older brother, Fan Juqing, who died for the sake of fidelity. I have repeatedly reminded Zhang Qin to take care of you, Mother. Please try to eat well and free your mind from worries. Take good care of yourself. Having done nothing in the service of the empire or the family, I am living a wasted life, which provides all the more reason for me to go and fulfill at least my obligation of fidelity.”

His mother said, “A trip to Shanyang a thousand li away should not take you more than a month. Why did you say such ominous things?”

Shao said, “Life is as fragile as foam. Death may befall us any moment of the day.” He broke down in tears and made another bow.

“Shall I go with you?” said his younger brother.

Shao declined his o er: “Mother will have no one to take care of her. You should do your best to serve Mother well so that I will have no worries.” Tearfully he bade farewell to his younger brother and, a bag of books on his back, set out on his journey the following morning. There is a poem in evidence:

Along the way, he gave no heed to what he ate when hungry or what he wore when cold. While sleeping at inns at night, he wept even in his sleep. Every day he rose early to press on with the journey. How he wished to grow two wings! Several days later, he arrived in Shanyang. After inquiries about Juqing’s address, he headed straight for the house, only to find the door under lock and key. The neighbors, when asked, told him, “Juqing has been dead for fourteen days. His wife has left with the coffin for the burial ceremony outside the city wall, and the mourners have not yet come back.”

Shao asked where the burial site was and hastened toward the outskirts of the city. There, in front of a wooded hill, was a newly erected earthen wall, by which stood several tens of people staring at each other in amazement. Perspiring all over, Shao drew near and saw a woman in mourning clothes and a boy about seventeen or eighteen years old bent over a coffin, crying. Shao shouted, “Might this be Fan Juqing’s coffin?”

“Might you be Zhang Yuanbo?” asked the woman.

“Yes, but I have never been here before. How do you know my name?”

The woman said tearfully, “My husband’s last words were all about you. My husband Fan Juqing often talked about your kindness after he came back from Luoyang. At the Double-Ninth Festival, he said to me in a sudden fit of panic, ‘I’ve lost my friend Zhang Yuanbo’s trust. What meaning can life have for me now? I have often heard that a thousand-li journey is beyond any living man’s ability. I would rather die than fail to keep the ‘chicken-and-millet’ appointment. Do not bury me after I die until Yuanbo comes to see my corpse.’ Today being already the fourteenth day after his death, people urged me, saying, ‘Go ahead with the burial, for there is no telling when Yuanbo will come. It will not be out of turn to notify him after the burial.’ That’s why I escorted the coffin all the way here. The men have been trying to lower the coffin into the pit, but it would not budge. And so here we were standing in astonishment in front of the grave, unable to get anything done. And then you appeared, running from afar in great haste. I guessed it must be you.”

Yuanbo threw himself onto the ground in a violent fit of weeping. The woman also broke down in tears in heart-rending agony. There was not a dry eye among all those present.

Shao took some money out of his bag for the purchase of some o erings, incense, candles, and paper money, which were then arranged in a display in front of the coffin. He took out an elegy and, having poured out a libation on the ground, he bowed twice and read the following, between bitter sobs:

Opening the coffin lid for a look, Yuanbo burst into wails of grief that shook the earth. He turned to Juqing’s widow and said, “My elder brother died for my sake. How can I live without him? In my bag there is enough money for a coffin. My sister-in-law, if you could show compassion and bury me by his side, that would be the greatest blessing of my life.”

“How can my brother-in-law say such a thing?” said she.

“My mind is made up,” said Shao. “Please do not be frightened.” So saying, he drew out his sword and cut his own throat. Everyone was appalled. They made sacrifices to him and buried him, complete with grave clothes and a coffin, in Juqing’s grave.

When word reached the ears of the local prefect, he wrote a memorial to the emperor to report the matter. Impressed with the expression of such loyalty between two friends, Emperor Ming granted the two men posthumous titles to provide inspiration for posterity, although they had never gained office in life. Fan Juqing was granted the title of duke of Shanyang and Zhang Yuanbo that of duke of Runan. In front of the grave bearing the inscription “Tomb of Loyalty” was erected a shrine named the Shrine of Loyalty. The two men’s families were given great honor and provided by the government with food and clothing for the raising of Juqing’s son, Fan Chunshou. He later passed the imperial examinations, became a jinshi, and rose to be head of the Court for Dependencies.⁶ Of the multitude of poems inscribed on these ancient monuments that remain in Shanyang to this day, the best is the lyric poem “Ta Sha Xing” by an anonymous poet: