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Censor Chen Ingeniously Solves the Case of the Gold Hairpins and Brooches

I have heard elders in my story-telling profession tell the tale of a man by the name of Jin Xiao [Gold Filiality], whose native place has slipped my memory. A middle-aged bachelor who lived alone with his mother, he peddled oil for a living. One day, carrying his load of oil on a pole across his shoulders, he was walking down the road when he suddenly felt the need to relieve himself and went into a latrine. There he found a cloth belt containing a packet of approximately thirty taels of silver. Beside himself with joy, he returned home and said to his mother, “Today’s my lucky day! I found a lot of silver!”

The old lady was startled at the sight of the silver. “You didn’t steal it, did you?” she demanded.

Jin Xiao said, “How can you say such a thing! When did I ever become a thief? Luckily the neighbors didn’t hear you. Someone dropped this belt by the edge of the latrine pit. It was my good fortune to have been the first one to see it and pick it up. Such windfalls don’t often come the way of petty peddlers like me. Tomorrow, I’ll make an o ering of burnt paper money to the god of fortune. The silver can be used as the capital for setting up my own oil business. Wouldn’t that be better than selling on credit?”

“My son,” admonished his mother, “as the saying goes, ‘Wealth and poverty are all a matter of fate.’ If you are predestined for a life of comfort, you would not have been born into an oil-peddler’s family. As I see it, even though you didn’t get the silver by deception of any kind, you didn’t earn it by the sweat of your brow, either. What I fear is that undeserved gain will only bring pain. Who knows if this silver belongs to someone local or some traveler from another town? Nor do we know if it’s the man’s own money or borrowed. Its loss must be causing the man considerable distress. It may even have cost a life, for all we know. I’ve heard tell of a man named Pei Du in ancient times who earned merit in the underworld by returning to the owner some jade belts that he found in a temple.¹ You should go back to the place where you found the silver. If somebody goes there to look for it, bring him here to claim what rightfully belongs to him. This will earn you merit in the underworld. Heaven will certainly not fail you.”

Humbled by his mother’s lecture, Jin Xiao, being the prudent law-abiding person that he was, said over and over, “Yes, yes! How right you are! How right you are!” (What a filial son!) He put down the silver-filled belt and ran back to the latrine. There, a clamoring crowd was gathered around a man in a fit of rage crying out to heaven and earth. Jin Xiao went up and asked what all this commotion was about. It turned out that this man, a traveler from another town, could not find the silver that he believed had fallen into the latrine pit when he loosened his belt to relieve himself. He wanted to have the frame of the latrine pit removed, and the several ruffians whom he had gathered together were about to go down for a retrieval attempt under the eyes of the idle spectators.

“How much silver did you have?” Jin Xiao asked the traveler, who answered o hand, “About forty or fifty taels.”

Being the honest man that he was, Jin Xiao blurted out, “Was there a white cotton belt?”

“Yes!” The man grabbed Jin Xiao. “Give it back to me if you have found it. I will gladly pay you a reward.”

Some busybody in the crowd commented, “By rights, even a fifty-fifty split wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

Jin Xiao said, “I did find it. It’s at my house. Just follow me home and get it.” The onlookers, amazed that a finder of lost property would seek out the owner to return the money instead of secretly keeping it for himself, followed them to Jin’s house.

Upon arrival at home, Jin Xiao handed over the belt with both hands to the man, who, after examining the silver packet, realized that it was intact. Out of fear that Jin Xiao would demand a reward and that the onlookers would suggest a fifty-fifty split, he hit upon a wicked idea and accused Jin Xiao instead. “I should have forty to fifty taels of silver,” he blu ed. “How come this is all that’s left! Give me back the other half that you kept for yourself !”

“As soon as I stepped into the house with the silver, my mother drove me out to look for the owner and give it back to him. How could I have taken even a cent of it?”

As the traveler insisted that part of his silver was missing, Jin Xiao felt so injured that, in a mad rage, he charged headlong at the man. The traveler, being the stronger of the two, grabbed him by his hair, lifted him up, and hurled him to the ground as he would a chicken. His brandishing fists were about to land upon Jin Xiao (Such an evil and shameless man deserves a death sentence) when Jin’s seventy-year-old mother rushed out the door, crying out Jin’s innocence. All of the onlookers, wrought up by the injustice done to Jin Xiao, began shouting as if throwing themselves into a battle.

It so happened that the county magistrate was passing by and heard the clamor. He called his sedan-chair carriers to a halt and sent some runners to bring the men over for questioning. Afraid of being implicated, most of the crowd scattered in all directions. The more venturesome ones stood by, wishing to see how the magistrate would handle the case.

Now, having been led by the runners into the presence of the county magistrate, the traveler, Jin, and his mother all dropped to their knees right there in the street to plead their cases. The traveler said, “He found my silver and kept half of it for himself.”

Jin countered, “I followed my mother’s advice and returned the silver to him in good faith, but he turned around and is trying to frame me.”

The magistrate turned to the onlookers: “Are there witnesses?” They all stepped forward and said, “The traveler was looking for his lost silver in the latrine when Jin Xiao voluntarily walked up and said that he had found it and took the man home to claim it. We witnessed everything with our own eyes, only we have no idea how much silver there was.” (The truth can hardly be covered up or falsified.)

“There is no need for further argument between you two,” the magistrate said. “I have a solution.” So saying, he had the runners bring the whole crowd to the county court. There he assumed the bench, and all the others fell to their knees. The magistrate ordered that the belt and the silver be brought up to him. Then he ordered the treasury clerks to weigh the silver and report to him.

“Thirty taels,” they reported.

The magistrate asked the traveler, “How much silver did you have?” (Good question.)

“Fifty taels.”

“Did you see him pick the silver up, or did he tell you about it?”

“He told me about it himself.”

“If he wanted to cheat you out of your silver, he could have kept all of it,” the magistrate said. “Why would he hide half of it and then tell you about the rest out of his own free will? How could you have known, if he had not told you? Therefore, it is evident that he had no intention of cheating you out of your silver. What you lost was fifty taels, but what he found was thirty taels. This silver does not belong to you, but to someone else.” (How decisive the man handling the case!)

“The silver is indeed mine. I’ll be content with claiming no more than the thirty taels.”

“The sums do not match. How can you lay false claim to something that is not yours? My judgment is for Jin Xiao to keep all of the silver to support his mother. As for the fifty taels that you lost, go and look for it on your own.”

With the silver now in his possession, Jin Xiao thanked the magistrate profusely before he left the court, supporting his aged mother. How dare the traveler contest the judgment of the court? With tears in his eyes, he went away, swallowing his shame, much to the amusement of the crowd. Truly,

Dear audience, let me now tell the extraordinary story “The Golden Hairpins and Brooches,” in which a married man loses his wife and a bachelor gains one, just as the traveler who plotted to get extra silver lost his own, but Jin Xiao, who wanted none of it, received the full amount. Though the details di er, the heavenly principle is the same.

There lived a certain Investigation Commissioner Lu in Shicheng [Stone Wall] County of Ganzhou Prefecture of Jiangxi Province. He was called by all and sundry Pure Water Lu because his reputation as an official was untarnished by greed. The Lu family and the family of Inspector Gu of the same county had been friends for generations. As Inspector Gu’s daughter Axiu was betrothed to Commissioner Lu’s son Lu Xuezeng, the two families had long been accustomed to addressing each other as in-laws. After his wife died from an illness, Commissioner Lu took his son with him to his post and kept putting o the wedding. Quite unexpectedly, the commissioner died from sudden illness during his term of office. After bringing the coffin home, Lu Xuezeng the son observed three years of mourning, as was the rule. The family fortune further deteriorated until all that remained was a dilapidated house. Even daily subsistence became uncertain.

Inspector Gu, witnessing the reduced circumstances of his prospective son-in-law, began to regret having made the betrothal. In a discussion with his wife, Lady Meng, he said, “It looks like that penniless Lu will not be able to complete the ‘six preliminaries,’² and the wedding will have to be postponed indefinitely. It would be best for us to look around for another match rather than compromise our daughter’s lifelong happiness.”

“True, the Lu family has fallen on hard times,” admitted his wife, “but what excuse can we use for breaking o this engagement pledged since childhood?”

“We can send someone to say that as the betrothed are not getting any younger, the wedding ceremony should be held as soon as possible. As both families are of distinguished background and share the same values on the importance of decency and propriety, for him to admit the lack of means is unthinkable. He has to conduct the wedding with all proper decorum. That beggar, knowing that it’s beyond his means to do that, will undoubtedly agree to withdraw from the engagement. With a written statement from him declaring the betrothal null and void, won’t we have severed all ties with him?” (A fine plan indeed!)

Lady Meng hesitated. “Our Axiu is a little unpredictable. I’m afraid she might not agree.”

“A woman is supposed to obey her father before she gets married. This matter is not for her to decide. You just try to patiently talk her into it.”

Without letting a moment slip by, Lady Meng went into her daughter’s room and communicated her father’s wish to her. Axiu protested, “A virtuous woman serves only one man until her death. To be only concerned over money in a marriage is nothing less than barbarous. Such snobbishness on Father’s part is absolutely immoral. I will never obey.” (A virtuous woman serves only one man until her death. A worthy young woman she truly is!)

“Your father is going to urge him to hold the wedding ceremony. If he can’t a ord it and would rather call o the engagement, it’ll be pointless for you to insist.”

“What kind of talk is this!” snapped Axiu. “If Lu is too poor to a ord the marriage expenses, I would just as soon remain unmarried to the end of my life. Qian Yulian of ancient times threw herself into the river to preserve her chastity. Her good name will never fade.³ If father pushes me too hard, what’s to stop me from taking my own life?”

Lady Meng bemoaned her daughter’s stubbornness, but, at the same time, her heart was filled with pity. An idea suddenly occurred to her: “Why don’t I secretly send for Young Master Lu without my husband’s knowledge and give the young man whatever is necessary for a wedding ceremony as soon as possible? Only thus would the match be brought o .”

One day, Inspector Gu left for his holdings in the East Farmstead to collect rent and was expected to stay there for quite a number of days. Lady Meng, after confiding in her daughter, sent for the gardener, Old Ou, and told him to ask young Master Lu to come. He was to meet the young master at the back gate and do thus-and-so. “Don’t let a word of this leak out. I’ll have a handsome reward for you.”

As ordered, the old gardener came to the door of the Lu residence, where he saw

Indeed, words are inadequate to describe the poverty of the Lu household.

Let us now retrace our steps. Lu Xuezeng had an aunt who was married to the family of Liang, living about ten li away. The husband had died, leaving behind only a son, Liang Shangbin, who lived comfortably with his mother and his newly wedded wife, a good and worthy woman.

On the day the old gardener called, young Mr. Lu happened to be away on a trip to his aunt’s house to borrow some rice. The old gardener, finding no one at home but a white-haired old woman-servant attending to the kitchen fire, had no other choice but to convey Lady Meng’s message to her, adding that she should get the young man back without delay. “This is a special favor from Lady Meng,” said the old man. “She will be expecting Mr. Lu in the next few days while my master is away. Mr. Lu must not fail her.” With these words, he took himself o .

The old woman realized that this matter was of a nature not to brook any delay, nor could it be entrusted to anyone else. She had once joined the now deceased Mrs. Lu on a trip to her sister’s house and still had a vague memory of the directions. Without a moment of delay, she asked a neighbor to watch the house for her, and she stumbled and fumbled her way, with the help of a few inquiries, to the Liang residence, where Mr. Lu was having a meal at his aunt’s invitation. After the greetings, the old woman repeated the old servant’s message in full.

“Isn’t that nice!” exclaimed Lu’s aunt, and she urged the young man to go at once.

Elated though he was, Mr. Lu would rather not let his mother-in-law see him in his shabby clothes. He turned to his cousin Liang Shangbin for the loan of a gown. (Cause of all the troubles to come.)

Now this Liang Shangbin was a scoundrel not content with a law-abiding life. With an evil scheme taking shape in his mind, he said, “I do have a gown for you, but it’s now too late in the day to go to town. You have no idea how things are in an official’s residence. Although there is this message from your mother-in-law, the servants may not necessarily know about your visit. You need to watch out when you go. Believe me, it would be better if you spent one more night here, and when you go tomorrow, set out in the morning, not in the evening.” (The villain couches his lies in sensible words.)

“As you say, brother,” Mr. Lu agreed.

Liang Shangbin continued, “I need to go to see a family in East Village to attend to a trifling matter. Please excuse my absence.” To his mother, he said, “Put the old woman up for the night, too. She must be tired from so much walking. She can leave tomorrow.”

Mrs. Liang, attributing good intentions to his suggestion, accordingly lodged both guests for the night. As it turned out, this was all part of his treacherous plan. He was afraid that should the old woman go back and the gardener come again to repeat the invitation, they would notice Mr. Lu’s absence, and his chances of passing himself o as Mr. Lu would be foiled. Truly,

Without Mr. Lu’s knowledge, Liang Shangbin changed into a new outfit, sneaked out of the house, and made his way to the Gu residence in town.

In the meantime, the old gardener was waiting for young Master Lu by the open gate, as instructed by Lady Meng. After the sun had sunk below the western hills, there emerged in the darkness a well-dressed but nervous young man who hesitated at the gate. “Might you be young Master Lu?” asked the old gardener.

Liang Shangbin answered with an eager bow, “Yes! I am here at the request of the lady of the house. Please be so kind as to announce my arrival.”

The gardener promptly led the guest into an arbor to wait. He himself went with all speed to the interior of the house to report to Lady Meng, whereupon the housekeeper was sent out to invite the young man to the inner chamber. Barely had he stepped out of the arbor than two maids, each carrying a gauze lantern, came up to meet him. After winding their way past chamber after chamber, they finally came upon an elaborately ornamented, vermilion hall, where, with candles lit and the vermilion curtain raised, Lady Meng was already waiting in her private chamber.

Liang Shangbin, being of humble background, had never seen such wealth and style. Besides, he was a rustic with little education. All this, added to his consciousness of being an impostor, made him feel ill at ease. As he greeted Lady Meng and answered her questions, his uncouth manners and dull speech caused her to wonder, “How strange! He is not at all like the son of an official.” But then, another thought struck her. “It’s often said that a man in poverty is short on intelligence. How can I blame him for his lack of composure, when he is in such straitened circumstances?” At this second thought, greater compassion welled up in her heart. (A mistake.)

After tea, Lady Meng ordered dinner preparations started and then called her daughter to come forward and be presented to the guest. Reluctant at first, Axiu yielded after her mother’s persistent urging.

“If father does carry out his wish of breaking o the engagement,” she thought to herself, “tonight is the time for bidding farewell. I will die content if I get to see my intended husband, even if only once.” (Poor thing.) With these thoughts on her mind, she bashfully stepped out of her boudoir.

“My child, come over here and greet young Master Lu,” bade Lady Meng. “Just a small curtsy will do.”

The impostor bowed twice with folded hands. Before Axiu could withdraw after returning the greeting with two curtsies, Lady Meng stopped her. “Since you will be husband and wife, there’s nothing improper in sitting together.” She bade her daughter sit by her side. The impostor kept ogling her and melted with desire at the sight of her elegant beauty. Feeling never a doubt that it was her future husband in front of her, the young lady, silent and overcome with grief, kept her head down and could barely refrain from breaking down in tears. Truly,

Food and wine were presently brought in. Two tables were laid out at Lady Meng’s order, with the guest taking the table of honor, while the mother and daughter sat at the table by the side. Lady Meng said apologetically, “It is in order to help you financially with the wedding ceremony that I invited you at such short notice. Please excuse me for the lack of propriety.” Scarcely had he managed to utter a couple of polite words in response than the impostor flushed crimson with nervousness.

During the dinner, Lady Meng mentioned briefly her daughter’s wish not to marry another man. She took the man’s evasiveness as totally justifiable modesty. Feeling awkward at the dinner table, the imposter, who actually had a large capacity for liquor, declined o ers of wine, claiming that he was not much of a drinker, nor did Lady Meng insist. After a few more moments, she gave orders that bedding be prepared in the east chamber for the man to stay overnight. (Wrong move on Lady Meng’s part.) The impostor feigned readiness to take his leave, only to be detained by Lady Meng. “Why stand on ceremony with your own family? My daughter and I have more to confide to you.” The imposter showed no outward indication of his delight.

A maid came in to report that the east chamber was now ready for him to retire to. With a bow of gratitude for the dinner, the impostor followed the lantern-bearing maid into the east chamber.

Lady Meng beckoned her daughter into her room, dismissed the maids, and took out of a chest eighty taels of silver from her private savings, as well as two pairs of silver cups and sixteen pieces of jewelry worth about a hundred taels of gold. Handing them over to her daughter, she said, “This is all your mother has. Take them to young Master Lu for the marriage expenses.” (Another wrong move.)

“I am too embarrassed to go,” said Axiu.

“My child,” exhorted Lady Meng. “Just as some rituals are immutable, whereas others are adaptable to suit contingencies, so are there matters that need di erent treatment in order of priority. At this delicate moment, if you don’t personally go to him and move him with wifely love, how will he have the motivation to exert himself? Poverty-stricken young men like him tend to lack wisdom in worldly a airs. If he consults someone outside the family circle, he might be tricked into squandering all the money away. If that happens, all the pains I’ve gone through would be to no purpose. By then, regrets would be too late! Now stu these things into your sleeves and make sure no one sees them.”

When Axiu heard this argument, she was obliged to comply. “But mother, I can’t very well go to him all by myself,” she said.

“I’ll have the housekeeper go with you.” At once, she summoned the housekeeper and told her to escort the young mistress under the cover of night to the east chamber for a talk with young Master Lu. She added in a whisper, “After escorting her there, you just wait outside the door to be out of their way so that they can talk freely.” (Both mother and daughter are at fault.) The woman understood.

The impostor, in the meantime, was sitting alone in the east chamber, determined not to go to sleep yet, for he had a hunch that something was afoot. Just as he expected, some time after the first watch of the night sounded, the housekeeper pushed open his door and announced, “The young lady is here to see you.” The impostor rose with alacrity and o ered his greetings for a second time. Something unimaginable happened: the impostor, who had been tongued-tied in the presence of Lady Meng, turned into a glib talker, pouring out tender words to the young lady, who, at first coy and demure, became more self-assured now that her mother was not with her. (This stands to reason. Nothing out of the ordinary.) Questions and answers went back and forth for a considerable time. As Axiu was speaking in all sincerity, tears streamed down her cheeks before she knew it. The impostor, on the other hand, put on a disgusting display of grief, beating his chest, heaving sigh upon sigh while dabbing at his eyes and blowing his nose. Under the pretense of comforting her, he gathered her in his arms and fondled her to his heart’s content. (What a good play for the stage!)

The housekeeper standing outside the door was moved to tears upon hearing the heart-rending sobs. Little did she realize that of the two, one meant every word she said, whereas the other was but faking it all. How Axiu drew from her sleeves the silver and jewelry and handed them to the impostor with many words of admonishment is needless to narrate here.

The money now in his possession, the impostor blew out the lamp and, with an arm around the young lady, pleaded piteously for intimacy. Out of fear that her plans would be thwarted if the maids heard the commotion of a struggle, Axiu saw no other way but to give her reluctant consent. (She lacks good sense.)

There was someone who wrote a lyric to the tune of “As in a Dream: A Song”:

As the proverb has it, “If you act before much thought, in regret you will surely be caught.” In surreptitiously providing the young man with gifts so that he could a ord the wedding, Lady Meng was full of the best intentions, but, for a matter of such momentous importance, how could she have failed to instruct the old gardener to meet young Master Lu face to face? Even after the impostor presented himself, nothing would have gone wrong had she asked the gardener to escort the young man back immediately after giving him the gifts and the words of advice. The very last thing she should have done was to have her daughter come out to greet the man and, later, go to his room all alone for a private talk. By so doing, Lady Meng was, to all intents and purposes, paving the way for the man to exceed the bounds of propriety. Even Mr. Lu himself should not have been allowed such freedom, let alone an impostor! A fine subject for gossip and criticism she became for the rest of her life! This is, alas, a case of a mother’s excessive indulgence causing her daughter irreparable harm. (It is all Lady Meng’s fault.)

But enough idle comments. Our story relates further that the impostor, having gotten what he wanted from the young mistress, let her go. At the sound of the fifth watch, Lady Meng dispatched a maid to wake him up to wash and dress, and have some tea and refreshments. She exhorted him, “My husband will be back soon. It would be best if my good son-in-law could make preparations without delay. Don’t be remiss in this.” Taking leave of her, the impostor left by the backyard gate.

“What a great stroke of luck!” he thought to himself as he went along. “I had my way with an official’s daughter at no expense to myself and walked o with a bundle of valuables, without ever giving myself away! The only thing that will spoil the otherwise perfect pleasure is that Mr. Lu himself will be coming today. Since Inspector Gu will be back soon, why don’t I detain Lu until tomorrow? He won’t dare to go once the inspector is back, and I’ll get away clean!” (What a schemer!) With his mind thus made up, he walked into a wineshop, where he drank three cups of wine by himself and ate his fill. It was not until afternoon that he finally returned home.

Mr. Lu was, in the meantime, still waiting in great vexation, but unable to leave for lack of presentable clothes. His aunt, also restless, sent a farmhand to look for her son in East Village, but the latter was nowhere to be seen. She then went to her daughter-in-law’s room. “Do you know if he has any clothes for Master Lu?” she asked.

Liang’s wife, Tian-shi, answered, “He keeps them all locked up in his trunk and doesn’t leave out the key.” Tian-shi, originally from East Village, was the daughter of Mr. Tian, a tribute student⁴ at the National University. She was as fair to look upon as she was well-versed in scholarship and decorum. Mr. Tian used to be known in Shicheng County for his chivalrous acts. When a certain official who bore him grudges sought to ruin him, Liang Shangbin’s father told his brother-in-law, Commissioner Lu, about the case. The latter, who had long held Mr. Tian in high esteem, pleaded his case to the best of his ability and got Mr. Tian out of trouble, whereupon Mr. Tian married his daughter into the Liang family as a token of his gratitude. Now Tian-shi was a woman who had more than a trace of her father’s chivalry. Disgruntled with her oaf of a husband who was given to misconduct, she called him “the Bumpkin” out of scorn. As there was no love lost between the couple, the wife never bothered to help the husband in anything, not even in taking care of his clothes.

Now let me return to Mr. Lu and his aunt, who were consumed with anxiety when whom did they see but Liang Shangbin stepping into the house, his face flushed with wine.

His mother exploded. “Your cousin has been here waiting for your clothes while you were out drinking the whole night! And we had no idea where to look for you!” Without a word in reply, Liang Shangbin headed straight to his own room, where he hid the valuables that were stu ed in his sleeves before emerging out of the room to address Mr. Lu: “I was detained by a trifling matter that came up unexpectedly, and I apologize for having held you up for one day. As it is getting late, you’d better go tomorrow.”

His mother snapped, “Just lend some clothes to your cousin, and let him do what he is supposed to do! Never you mind whether he goes today or tomorrow!”

Mr. Lu said, “I’ll have to borrow not only the clothes, but shoes and socks as well.”

“I do have a pair of black satin shoes for you, but they are with the cobbler next door. The soles need fixing. I’ll tell him to rush the job this evening so that you can have them tomorrow morning.” Mr. Lu could do no more than stay another night.

The following morning, Liang Shangbin feigned a headache and slept until the sun was well up in the sky. It wasn’t until breakfast was over that he rose and took out the robe, shoes, and socks with deliberate slowness, for no other purpose than to delay Lu’s departure as much as possible to ruin his chances.

Mr. Lu could not bring himself to put on the fine clothes right away. Instead, he borrowed a piece of cloth, wrapped up his outfit, and gave the parcel to the old woman-servant for her to carry. His aunt, in the meantime, put together a bag of rice and vegetables and had a farmhand escort Mr. Lu back. She reminded her nephew, “Do let me know when the wedding is settled, to spare me from worrying.”

Mr. Lu bowed and turned around to leave. At this moment, Liang Shangbin stepped forward to see him o . “Watch out for yourself,” he advised. “Beware of any evil intentions and false pretenses. As I see it, the best course is to hold up your head and try the front gate. They can’t drive out their would-be son-in-law, can they? Besides, you’re not throwing yourself cheaply upon them but are invited, through the gardener, and that’s ample evidence. If they mean well, they’ll naturally let you in. If they give you a hard time, don’t be afraid to reason with them, and be sure to make the neighbors hear you. If you go to the back gate through the yard where there’s no one around, there will be no one to turn to for help if they trick you.”

“Surely you’re right,” Mr. Lu said. Truly,

Back at home, Mr. Lu put on the gown, socks, and shoes. The one thing he did not borrow was a cap because of the di erence in size. He took down his old one, rinsed it with clean water, had the old woman borrow an iron from a neighbor, lit a fire to heat the iron, and pressed out all the wrinkles on the cap. He then applied some grains of cooked rice to the frayed spots to fill them up nice and hard, and, lastly, painted the cap black with ink. All this work and the repeated fittings to get it to look just right took over two hours. (As is often the case with poverty-stricken scholars. Pitiable.) After getting approval of his appearance from the old woman-servant, he directed his steps to the Gu residence.

Never having seen him before, the gatekeeper said, “The master went to the East Farmstead.”

Mr. Lu had, after all, been well brought up in an official’s family. He replied in great composure, “Kindly announce to the lady of the house that Mr. Lu is here.” Only then did the gatekeeper realize who he was, but, having no inkling as to the purpose of the visit, he did not relent: “As the master is not at home, I dare not make unauthorized announcements.”

Mr. Lu tried again: “I am here at the bidding of the lady of the house. You will know once you make the announcement. You will not be blamed for anything.”

The gatekeeper did go in, saying, “Young Master Lu is at the gate, asking to see you, madam. Should I let him in or turn him away?”

Lady Meng was taken aback. She thought to herself, “He left only yesterday. Why is he back again?” Thereupon she ordered to have him admitted into the main hall. She then sent the housekeeper to go and ask him what he had come for. Scarcely had the woman stepped out and taken a look than she rushed back to Lady Meng. “This young Master Lu is an impostor. (If she took the fake to be the real, it follows that she now takes the real to be the fake.) He is not the one who came the other night. That one was fat with a dark complexion, but this one is thin with fair skin.”

Lady Meng could not believe what she heard. “How can that be?” She went to the back of the main hall and peeked from behind the screen. Sure enough, this was not the one who had come before. At a loss what to do, she sent the housekeeper into the hall to cross-examine the young man about his family background. His answers were correct to the last detail. Suspicions had lurked at the back of her mind when Lady Meng had first laid eyes upon the previous alleged young Master Lu. The young man she was looking at now had the grace and the elegant speech of a true young Master Lu. When asked the purpose of his visit, he explained, “I am here at the invitation transmitted by the old gardener. I happened to be away in the country at the time and did not return until this morning. Then I hastened here to pay the call. Please forgive me for the delay.”

Lady Meng was convinced. “So this is what happened,” she said to herself. “But who was that cursed man who came the night before last?” She quickly rushed to her daughter’s room and explained the situation to her. “It is your father’s lack of moral sense that landed you in this mess,” she added. (True, true.) “Regrets are too late now. Luckily, no one knows about this, and let’s not remind ourselves of what has gone by. Now that my future son-in-law is in our house at my special invitation, I have nothing to o er him. What am I to do?” Truly,

Axiu was at a loss for words for a considerable time. There swept over her a wave of mixed emotions that defies description: it was panic, shame, chagrin, and agony, and yet it was none of these. It was as if, being stuck with needles all over, she could hardly distinguish where she felt a pinch and where a pain. (Good description.) To her credit, she had more fortitude than the average person and soon came up with a plan. “Mother,” she said, “why don’t you go out to the hall and meet him. I know what to do.”

Lady Meng did as her daughter said and entered the main hall to greet Master Lu. The young man grabbed a chair and set it at a spot usually reserved for the most honored seat in the hall. “Mother-in-law,” said he, “please take the seat of honor and allow me, your humble future son-in-law, to pay my respects.”

After a few polite words declining the honor, Lady Meng stood by the side of the chair and, after the young man had made two bows in a kneeling position, asked the housekeeper to raise him to his feet and help him take a seat.

“My straitened circumstances have caused me to be remiss in my observance of proper etiquette,” said Mr. Lu. “But you have not rejected me. In this life and beyond, I will never forget your great kindness.”

Lady Meng, overcome with shame, found no words for a reply. Instead, she instructed the housekeeper to shut the door of the main hall and ask the young mistress to come forth and greet young Master Lu.

Axiu went as far as the screen and refused to move another step. From there, behind the screen, she asked the housekeeper to relay these words: “Young Master Lu should not have tarried in the country. He ruined the best plans my mother and I had for him.”

Mr. Lu equivocated: “I tarried because I took ill in the country. But I am here now. How did I ruin anything?”

Axiu replied from behind the screen, “Three days ago, this body of mine was yours, but now, for fear of sullying your good name, I am not worthy to serve you and accomplish my wifely duties. Nor am I able to help you materially other than with two gold hairpins and a pair of gold brooches that I still have. These I now give to you as a small token of my sentiment. I advise you to find yourself another match and put me out of your thoughts.”

Taking these words to be a hint of a renouncement of the marriage, Mr. Lu grimly refused to accept the jewelry that the housekeeper now presented to him.

“Please keep them,” added Axiu. “You will know why soon enough. Now please go away. It will not be to your advantage to remain in this place.” With these words, she turned and sobbed her way back. (Pitiable.)

All the more suspicious, Lu Xuezeng unleashed on Lady Meng an explosion of angry words: “Poor as I am, I came not for a few pieces of jewelry. Why didn’t you say anything when your daughter was giving that speech, dropping hints about breaking o the engagement? Did you summon me here just to treat me like this?”

“My daughter and I have no wish to back out of our commitment. She is upset because she believes that your procrastination shows that you do not take this betrothal seriously enough. Don’t be overly suspicious.”

Lu Xuezeng was not convinced. Instead, he started recounting the mutual a ection between the two families before his father’s death. “How could you turn against me just because my father is gone and I am reduced to poverty, whereas your family is intact and rich! I had no one else but you, Mother-in-law, to stand up for me. How could you also abandon me, over a matter of a three-day delay!” And so the tirade went on. Lady Meng could hardly cut in with a word in defense of herself, nor was she able to get away from his presence.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out in the inner quarters of the house. A maid ran up, gasping for breath: “Madam! It’s horrible! Come save the young mistress!” Lady Meng broke into a cold sweat. How she wished she could have two more legs to get her there faster! Supported by the housekeeper on her left side, she ran into her daughter’s room only to find the girl dead, having hanged herself with a length of silk over her bed. Frantically they tried to save her, but the breath of life had already left her. For all their calling of her name, she did not come to. Everyone in the room broke down in tears.

When Mr. Lu overheard that the young mistress was dead, he took it to be just another trick to drive him out of the house, and he started shouting in the hall all by himself, until Lady Meng, in spite of the pain in her heart, sent for him. What confronted his eyes upon his arrival in the boudoir was the body of the dead girl lying sti on the brocade quilt of the ivory bed.

“My good son-in-law,” said Lady Meng between sobs, “come and meet your betrothed.” (Sad words.) At this point, he burst into loud sobs, his heart aching as if pierced by ten thousand arrows.

“My good son-in-law,” admonished Lady Meng, “this is not a place for you to stay on any longer. I fear that trouble will fall upon you if you do. Please go home at once.” She told the housekeeper to stu the pieces of jewelry into his sleeves and escort him out.

Seeing that there was nothing else to be done, Mr. Lu choked back his tears and went away.

While busying herself over arrangements to have her daughter’s body encoffined, Lady Meng sent for her husband, who was still away at the East Farmstead, saying nothing more than that their daughter had committed suicide as a protest to the breaking o of the betrothal. Stricken with remorse, Mr. Gu wept bitterly. The funeral was held, but we need not go into details about that. A poet of later times wrote these lines in praise of Axiu:

Let us now return to Mr. Lu. Back at home, he cried and sighed over the gold hairpins and brooches, now taken by suspicion, now attempting to probe for an explanation. As no amount of thinking provided an answer, he was reduced to accepting his ill fate with resignation.

The following day, he wrapped up his borrowed outfit in the same way as before and betook himself to his aunt’s house to return the parcel. When he heard that Mr. Lu had come, Liang Shangbin slunk away. As Mr. Lu told his aunt about the girl’s suicide, the old lady heaved sigh upon sigh. She kept Mr. Lu until after he had taken some wine and a meal.

Liang Shangbin asked upon returning, “Did my cousin say when he was here a moment ago whether he had paid the Gu family a visit?”

Liang’s mother replied, “He went yesterday, but for some reason, the young lady blamed him for being three days too late and then hanged herself to death.”

Forgetting himself, Liang Shangbin blurted out, “Good grief ! A most beautiful girl, too!” (Most clever choice of words. Gives the story a nice twist.)

“You have seen her? Where?” asked his mother.

Knowing that he would not be able to lie his way out of this, Liang Shangbin told his mother about his adventure as an impostor.

The old lady was aghast. “You cursed beast!” she lashed out. “What an evil thing you’ve done! You owe your marriage to your uncle, and now you return his kindness with this vicious act, breaking up your cousin’s betrothal and killing Miss Gu! How can you rest at ease with your conscience!” Repeatedly calling him a beast, she gave him such a heated lecture that he could hardly wedge in a word. As he approached his own room, he was greeted by another torrent of tongue-lashing from his wife, Tian-shi, from behind the closed door. “You scoundrel! Heaven will soon judge you! You’ll end up in a violent death! From now on, I won’t have anything to do with you. Don’t you drag me into your evil doings!”

Liang Shangbin happened to be looking for a vent for his pent-up rage, and at this volley of curses from his wife, he broke into the room with a savage kick at the door and, grabbing her hair with one hand, began to rain blows upon her. His mother had to rush over and order him out of the room. Amid wails of grief and beatings on her chest, Tian-shi said she would be better o dead than alive. Unable to calm her down, Liang’s mother called a sedan-chair and sent her back to her parents’ home.

The shock, the indignation, the pain of it all, and the fear that the treachery would come to light kept the old lady awake throughout the night. Rushes of heat and chill ran through her alternately. She died after seven days of illness.

When she learned of her mother-in-law’s death, Tian-shi returned for the funeral and put on mourning clothes. Liang Shangbin snapped at her, his anger still smoldering, “You slut! I thought you were going to spend the rest of your life at your parents’ home. What brought you back, may I ask?” Another altercation followed.

“You did that evil thing, then drove your mother to her grave, and now it’s my turn, isn’t it! If it hadn’t been for Mother-in-law’s sake, I’d never have come back to see this bumpkin face of yours!”

Liang Shangbin shot back, “Do you think I can’t get a wife elsewhere? Would I want a shrew like you to come back? I’m throwing you out this minute with a written statement of divorce, and don’t you ever come back!”

“I’d rather be single till I die than follow a filthy villain like you. A divorce couldn’t suit me better! It’s something worthy of an o ering of incense as soon as I get back.”⁵ (Tian-shi is indeed a woman of bold spirit.)

There being no predestined bond between this couple, these impetuous words about divorce led to action. In a fit of rage, Liang Shangbin wrote a statement of divorce bearing his thumb print and handed it to Tian-shi. She took a tearful farewell of her mother-in-law’s spirit tablet and left the house. Truly,

Let us follow another thread of the story and describe how, in the midst of Lady Meng’s daily weeping in memory of her daughter, a thought came to her mind: it was Old Ou who had sent the message and the same Ou who had brought back the dark, fat man. It followed, therefore, that either Ou himself was an accomplice or he had leaked out the secret. While her husband was away paying a social call, she summoned the old gardener to the main hall and cross-examined him.

The truth was that Old Ou had not breathed a word to anyone. It was Lu Xuezeng who had, by borrowing clothes—something he should not have done—made the treacherous deed possible. Lady Meng knew that there were two di erent men, one of whom, the impostor, had come that very night after the message was sent, and the other one, the true young Master Lu, three days later. But the gardener believed the two were one and the same man. However hard he pleaded his case, it was to no avail. Lady Meng flew into such a towering rage that she ordered her men to hold him to the ground and give him thirty strokes with bamboo poles till his skin split and his blood spurted out.

One day, chance brought Inspector Gu into the garden, and, as he tried to summon the old gardener to have the place cleaned, he was told that the old man was so severely wounded from the beating done at Lady Meng’s order that any movement was beyond him. The inspector had the old man brought to him. Under questioning as to the reason for the beating, Old Ou gave a detailed account of how he had been sent by Lady Meng for Mr. Lu and how the young couple met that night in the chambers.

Mr. Gu exploded with rage. “So, that’s what happened!” Promptly, he called a sedan-chair and went straight to the county yamen, where he stated the case to the county magistrate and demanded that Lu Xuezeng pay with his life. The magistrate asked for a written complaint and, having obtained that, sent runners to bring Lu Xuezeng to court for an interrogation.

Being the honest man that he was, Lu told of every detail, adding, “The gold hairpins and brooches that you see are gifts from her, but the alleged private meeting with her through the rear gate did not happen.” When the county magistrate called Old Ou the gardener out to counter his testimony, the old man firmly hung on to his belief that the man was none other than the accused. The truth was that the old gardener was of failing eyesight and had not seen the impostor clearly in the darkness of the night. Moreover, he was now under instructions from his master to hold Mr. Lu responsible. The magistrate, too, was under Mr. Gu’s influence. Accordingly, he submitted Lu to torture. When the pain became unendurable, Mr. Lu o ered a confession: “Mrs. Gu kindly summoned me and gave me the gold jewelry for the marriage expenses. When I noticed Axiu’s beauty, lust got the better of me and I forced myself upon her, which was a thing I shouldn’t have done. On the third day, I paid another visit, which was again wrong, and caused Axiu to kill herself out of shame.” The deposition was duly recorded. The verdict was that as Lu Xuezeng and Axiu were not yet husband and wife, for lack of a formal ceremony (in spite of a verbal commitment), Lu was to be sentenced to death by hanging for the crime of rape, which had led to suicide. Having issued the order to throw Lu into the prison cell designated for convicts awaiting execution, the magistrate then wrote a detailed report for submission to his superior.

Lady Meng was horrified when she got wind of this. She also learned that the only occupant of his house, the old woman-servant, was now ill from the shock and was unavailable for sending Lu food. “Mr. Lu had nothing to do with Axiu’s death,” she thought to herself. “It was I who brought him into this mess.” She then entrusted her housekeeper with some silver for delivery, through the right person, to bribe the prison wardens. At the same time, she repeatedly pleaded with her husband to spare Lu’s life, but her pleas only served to aggravate Mr. Gu further. The story soon spread throughout the streets and alleys of the whole county. Truly,

The stigma thus connected with his name strengthened Mr. Gu’s determination to be satisfied with nothing less than Lu Xuezeng’s death.

Let me now tell of an imperial censor named Chen Lian, a native of Huguang, whose father’s name had appeared on the same honor roll for recipients of jinshi degrees as Inspector Gu. Therefore, he was, to Mr. Gu, a nonconsanguineous nephew. The young man had a sharp intelligence and a perceptive eye and, in order to redress injustices, took the most delight in analyzing cases of trumped-up charges. Now, this Mr. Chen happened to be in Jiangxi as he made his rounds throughout the country under imperial orders. Before Censor Chen even stepped onto Jiangxi territory, Mr. Gu had already sent word regarding this case. Censor Chen agreed verbally to give the case his attention, but did not think much of the matter. On the third day of his stay in Jiangxi, he sent notice to Ganzhou to announce his upcoming visit. The news scared the sta in the prefectural administration out of their wits.

On the day that the review of criminal cases started, convicted prisoners from all the counties in the prefecture were brought to court. When Lu Xuezeng’s case came up, Censor Chen read the confession, examined the jewelry, and called in Lu Xuezeng. “Were these pieces of jewelry given to you on your first visit?” he asked.

“I went only once. There was no second visit.”

“Then why did you say in the confession that you went again in three days? How do you explain that?”

Lu exclaimed in an outburst, “I am innocent! I am innocent!” and went on to say, “My father, now deceased, had arranged for my betrothal to Mr. Gu’s daughter. My father being a clean, incorrupt official, our family was reduced to poverty after his death, and I could not a ord the marriage preliminaries. Inspector Gu wanted to break o the betrothal, but my mother-in-law refused and secretly had the old gardener send for me with promises of o ers of gold and silk. But as I was detained in the country, I did not go until three days later. I met only my mother-in-law. I never even laid eyes on Miss Gu, and the confession of rape was made under torture.”

“If you didn’t see Miss Gu, who gave you the gold hairpins and brooches?”

“The young mistress was standing behind the screen, blaming me for having ruined everything by not coming on time, and saying that the marriage was o , let alone the promises of gold and silk. The gold hairpins and brooches were meant to be keepsakes. Taking her words as a hint to break o the engagement, I got into an argument with her mother, without knowing that she would hang herself in her room. To this day, I still have no inkling as to the cause.”

“So you did not go to the back garden that night.”

“Truthfully, I did not.”

The imperial censor fell into a thoughtful silence. He said to himself, “If Lu was sent for, it must have been for more than an o er of hairpins and brooches. The bitterness in Axiu’s tone suggested that there must have been someone who went before Lu did, laid false claim to the valuables, and went as far as taking advantage of her. The shame of it would explain her suicide.” At this point in his thoughts, he had Old Ou brought in and asked, “Did you see Lu Xuezeng when you went to the Lu residence?”

“I did not.”

“If you did not, how did you know the one who came at night was Mr. Lu and not anyone else?”

“He said that he was young Master Lu calling at an invitation. I showed him in at Lady Meng’s order. How can he deny that?”

“When did he leave after the visit?” asked Mr. Chen.

“I heard that Madam asked him to stay for some wine and o ered him many gifts. He left at about the fifth watch.”

Lu Xuezeng started protesting again, but the imperial censor stopped him.

“Did you usher Lu Xuezeng in the second time he came?” (Good question.)

“The second time around, he came in by the front gate. I had nothing to do with it.”

“But why did he forsake the front gate the first time and go to the backyard to look for you?”

“That’s because Madam told me to have him take the back gate.”

The censor turned to Lu Xuezeng. “Since your mother-in-law wanted you to use the back gate, why did you go to the front?”

“As I was not sure about the true intentions of the invitation, I was afraid of being tricked in that deserted patch of land at the back of the house. That’s why I made straight for the front gate.”

Upon reflection, the censor concluded that behind the discrepancies in their accounts lay the key to the mystery. Pointing at Lu Xuezeng, he asked Old Ou, “Are you sure he is the one who came by the back gate? Don’t say yes too readily.”

“I didn’t really see very clearly in the darkness of the night, but the features did look like his.”

“To whom did you give the message when Lu Xuezeng was not at home?”

“To an old woman, the only person in the house. There was no one else around.”

“Are you sure you told no one else?” the censor snapped.

“Absolutely,” replied the old man.

The censor paused for a good while. “If I cannot get to the bottom of this,” he thought to himself, “how am I going to convict the man? What should I say to Mr. Gu?”

He turned to Lu Xuezeng again. “You said you were in the country, but how far is it from the town? And when did the message reach you?”

“The village is only ten li north of the town, and I got the message on the very same day.”

“Lu Xuezeng!” thundered the censor with a fierce slap on the table. “You lied when you said you went to the Gu residence three days later! You should have been only too happy at the invitation. It doesn’t stand to reason for you to have waited for three days when you were only such a short distance away!”

“Please don’t be angry with me, sir,” pleaded Lu Xuezeng, “and let me explain. Being as poor as I am, I went to my aunt’s house in the country to borrow rice. I was indeed eager to leave for town as soon as I received the message. However, as I was in rags, my cousin agreed to lend me his clothes, but as it happened, he had some business to attend to elsewhere and did not return until the following night. In the meantime, I was there waiting for the clothes. That accounts for the delay.”

“Did your cousin know why you wished to borrow his clothes?” asked the censor.

“Yes, he did.”

“What does your cousin do? What’s his name?”

“He is Liang Shangbin. He has a farm.”

At this point, the censor dismissed the hearing, saying that the session would be resumed the next day. Truly,

The following day, the gate of the censor’s tribunal opened just wide enough to hang out a placard on which was written, “His Honor the censor is indisposed. All officials are hereby instructed to wait until further notice for official business. Dated: this ——— day of this month.” How the officials of the prefecture expressed concern for his health twice a day is no concern of ours here.

Let us pick up another thread of the story and come to Liang Shangbin, who felt much relieved when he got word of Mr. Lu’s death sentence. One day, he heard a commotion outside the door. Peeping out through a crack, he saw that it was a traveling fabric merchant trying to make a sale. Wearing a new mourning-cap and an old white cotton robe, the merchant claimed, in a Jiangxi accent, to be a native of Nanchang who was anxious to dispose of his hundreds of bolts of fabric at a bargain so that he could return home before the night was out, because he had just received news that his father had died. But he turned down all o ers for only one bolt or two or three bolts. “I won’t be free to go if I sell at retail. If only a rich man will come along and buy all this stu wholesale, I’ll give him a good price.”

After listening for some time, Liang Shangbin emerged from behind the door and asked, “How many bolts do you have? How much did you pay for them?”

“I have more than four hundred bolts, for which I paid two hundred taels of silver.”

“How can you find a buyer on such short notice? You’ll have to be willing to su er a little loss before someone will come to take advantage of the good deal,” said Liang.

“I don’t mind if I lose around ten taels (Tempting him with monetary gains), as long as the deal is done fast, so that I can be free to be on my way.”

After examining the samples, Liang Shangbin also stepped into the merchant’s boat carrying the fabric to rummage through the bolts in stock, all the while exclaiming, “Good stu ! Good stu !”

“If you are not buying,” complained the merchant, “at least have the goodness not to mess up my stock and disrupt my business.” (Leading him on with challenging words.)

“How do you know I’m not buying?” said Liang Shangbin.

“If you are,” challenged the merchant, “show me the silver.”

“Should you be willing to take a twenty-percent loss,” bargained Liang, “I’ll pay you eighty taels of silver for half of what you have.” (That’s the eighty taels he had just laid his hands on.)

“What nonsense is this!” exclaimed the merchant. “What broker can afford a twenty-percent loss! And I’ll get rid of only half the stock, too. What am I going to do with the other half? Much good that does me! Didn’t I say you don’t look like a buyer?” He continued with a sardonic smile, “Of so many households this side of the north gate, none is rich enough to a ord a mere four hundred bolts of fabric! Oh well, I’ll just have to go over to the east gate to find a buyer.” (Leading him on nicely with another challenge.)

Liang Shangbin bristled at these words. Moreover, he could not let go of an opportunity to make a profit out of such attractive prices. He said, “What a bully you are! I’m taking all of it. Now what do you say to that?”

“If you mean what you say,” replied the merchant, “I’ll knock o twenty taels.” (Working on him with greater temptation.)

Liang Shangbin insisted on making it forty taels, but the merchant held his ground. The onlookers said to the merchant, “Since you’re anxious to get rid of the stu and this Mr. Liang enjoys gaining petty advantages, why don’t the two of you strike a compromise and close o the deal at one hundred seventy taels?”

The merchant was still unwilling, but gave way at the urging of the crowd. “Oh, very well,” he conceded, “It’s only out of respect for all of you present that I’m giving up the ten taels. But hand over the silver quickly so I can be on my way.”

“I don’t have that much silver,” said Liang Shangbin, “but I do have some pieces of jewelry. Will you take them instead?”

“Jewelry is just as good as silver,” said the merchant, “as long as the appraisal is fair.”

Liang invited him into his parlor. Some silver and two pairs of silver cups were worth one hundred taels altogether. Then he took out the jewelry, which was estimated by the crowd of onlookers to be worth seventy taels in total. The silver, jewelry, and the bolts of fabric changed hands, much to the delight of Liang Shangbin, who congratulated himself upon this good deal. Truly,

If the truth be told, this fabric merchant was none other than Imperial Censor Chen in disguise. Having closed his tribunal pleading illness, he had traveled incognito with his gatekeeper to Shicheng County, where a boat was already in waiting, loaded as it was with bolts of fabric that Battalion Commander Nie had obtained at his secret order. Commander Nie then followed him as his valet, leaving the gatekeeper to keep watch on the boat. No one saw through the plot (The truth is hardly to be covered up), such was the ingenuity of the censor.

Now, scarcely had Censor Chen stepped o the boat than he wrote Liang Shangbin’s name on an arrest warrant that he had brought with him for the purpose and told Commander Nie to bring the man to him quietly. Then he sent an invitation for Mr. Gu to come for a meeting. (This is the day of reckoning.) By the time the censor returned to his tribunal, claiming that he had recovered from the illness, Liang Shangbin had already been brought there and Inspector Gu had also arrived. The censor hastened to have wine set out in Mr. Gu’s honor in the chamber behind the main hall and asked Mr. Gu to stay for a light meal.

In the course of their conversation, Inspector Gu again brought up the case of Lu Xuezeng. The censor said with a smile, “Uncle, it is exactly in order to get to the bottom of this case that I invited you here.” With these words, he told his gatekeeper to open a box, from which he took out two silver cups and an abundance of jewelry for the inspector to take a look at.

Recognizing them as his family possessions, the inspector asked in astonishment, “Where did you get these?”

The censor said, “They are the clues to your daughter’s death. Please wait while I call the court to session to conduct the interrogation and solve the mystery for you.”

He went into the front hall and started the court session by calling forth Lu Xuezeng, who was then led to one side of the hall. As Liang Shangbin was brought out, the censor thundered, “Liang Shangbin! A fine thing you did at Inspector Gu’s residence!” This came as a bolt out of the blue for Liang. He was just about to say something in brazen defense of himself when the censor had the gatekeeper bring out the silver cups and the jewelry as evidence of his crime. “Where did you get these things?” asked the censor. Liang was aghast with horror when he raised his eyes and saw that the censor was none other than the fabric merchant. All the words that he managed to utter were “I deserve to die.”

“I will spare you the ankle-squeezer,” said the censor. “Just write me a truthful confession.”

Knowing that he would not be able to deny anything, Liang had no alternative but to confess. How, you may ask, was the confession written? There are two lyric poems to the tune of “Suo Nan Zhi” that bear witness:

Having put away the confession, the censor called forth Old Ou the gardener. “Look carefully,” said the censor. “Was it this man who claimed to be young Master Lu that night in the back garden?”

His eyes wide open, Old Ou scrutinized the man and said, “Yes, Your Honor, it was him,” whereupon the censor ordered that Liang Shangbin be given eighty strokes of the rod. The cangue was taken o Lu Xuezeng and put on Liang Shangbin. (How efficient!) The crime of rape being punishable by death, Liang was sent to the county prison to await execution. The four hundred bolts of fabric were recovered and returned to the warehouses they had come from. The silver and jewelry were given back to the Gu family through Old Ou. Lu Xuezeng got back the gold hairpins and brooches and was discharged, a free man, but he did not set out for home without first making kowtows of gratitude to the censor for having saved his life. Truly,

Meanwhile, in the rear chamber, Inspector Gu heard the trial out and was astounded. He waited until the censor dismissed the court to greet him with a profusion of words of gratitude. “If it were not for your divine wisdom, the wrong done to my daughter would not have been redressed. But how did Your Honor get hold of all the silver and jewelry?” The censor told him the whole story in a whisper.

“How ingenious!” exclaimed Mr. Gu. “May I add that Liang Shangbin’s wife must be a party to the conspiracy and might still be keeping a few pieces of the jewelry that belong to my family? Please apprehend her, also.”

“That can be easily done,” promised the censor, who proceeded to issue the necessary documents empowering Shicheng County officials to apprehend Liang’s wife for a rigorous interrogation and to confiscate whatever loot remained in her possession. Inspector Gu then took leave of the censor and returned home.

Upon receipt of the decree from the censor, the magistrate of Shicheng County summoned Liang Shangbin from prison. “What is your wife’s surname?” he asked. “Was she part of this?”

Out of spite for his wife, Liang answered, “My wife Tian-shi, driven by her greed for the valuables, was part of the conspiracy,” whereupon the magistrate immediately sent lictors to bring Tian-shi to court.

Let us now go back to Tian-shi, who, now living with her brother and his wife after her parents’ death, made a living by sewing. On the particular day of which we speak, her brother Tian Zhongwen happened to be present at the magistrate’s court. No sooner had he heard that his sister was wanted by the court than he rushed back home to tell her about it. “Don’t panic, my brother,” she said. “I know what to do.” In no time at all, she mounted a sedan-chair and, carrying the divorce statement with her, made straight for the Gu residence and asked to see Lady Meng. For a moment, Lady Meng’s vision turned blurry, and whom did she see walking in but her daughter Axiu! It wasn’t until the visitor drew near that she realized with a start that she was looking at a beautiful woman she had never seen before. “Who are you?” she asked.

Prostrating herself on the ground, Tian-shi said, “I was Liang Shangbin’s wife, already divorced before his arrest, because I was afraid of implication in the evil doings of that vile husband of mine. As your husband does not know this, I am here to beseech you to intercede and save my life.” With these words, she presented Lady Meng with the divorce statement.

Lady Meng was reading the statement when, all of a sudden, Tian-shi pulled at her sleeves and wailed, “Mother, my father has done such harm to me!” (How extraordinary!)

Recognizing Axiu’s voice, Lady Meng also wept. “My child! What do you want to tell me?”

Her eyes tightly closed, Tian-shi said between bitter sobs, “A momentary slip on my part made me lose my virginity to that wicked man. Too ashamed to face my husband-to-be, I took my own life to preserve my virtuous name. To my dismay, Father failed to make a thorough investigation. His rashness almost cost young Master Lu his life. Luckily, the case is now solved, but through the fault of you, Mother, and me, he has lost a wife. If you care for me, please advise Father to take care of this matter so as not to sever the marriage bond between the two families. If so, in the netherworld I will have no regrets.” And with that, she fell to the ground. (Extraordinary. Pitiable.) Lady Meng also fainted from too much crying.

The housekeeper, the maids, and the waiting women all gathered around and awoke the two. Still in a daze, Tian-shi sat on the floor, unable to answer any questions about what had happened. The sight of Tian-shi reminded Lady Meng of her daughter, and Lady Meng began another fit of crying, but the maids around her managed to calm her down. Overcome with grief, she asked Tian-shi, “Are your parents still alive?”

“No,” Tian-shi answered.

“Now that I am childless, you are no less dear to me than my own daughter. Would you be willing to be my adopted daughter?”

Tian-shi said with a bow, “It would be an honor to serve you, madam.” Immensely pleased, Lady Meng kept her in the house.

Inspector Gu, now back at home, learned that Tian-shi was not involved in the foul deed, her divorce having preceded Liang’s arrest, whereupon he sent a letter, with the divorce statement attached, to the county magistrate, pleading that the magistrate withdraw the warrant for Tian-shi’s arrest and forward the letter to the censor.

Impressed by Tian-shi’s virtue and intelligence, he gave consent to his wife’s wish to adopt her as a daughter. Lady Meng described to him how their daughter Axiu had attached her soul to the body of Tian-shi, insisting that the marriage bond with the Lu family not be severed. “Since Tian-shi is young and beautiful,” she went on to suggest, “why not have Mr. Lu marry into our family to fulfill the marriage bond?” (A wonderful twist to the story.)

Su ering as he was from pangs of conscience for having a›icted anguish on Lu Xuezeng for something he was innocent of, Inspector Gu was all too ready to support his wife’s proposal. Afraid that Mr. Lu would be suspicious of the move, he paid Lu a visit to apologize for his behavior before bringing up the subject of marriage. Mr. Lu repeatedly declined the proposal but finally gave in after much persuasion. An auspicious day was selected for the wedding, with the gold hairpins and brooches as the betrothal presents.

As it happened, when speaking to Mr. Lu, Inspector Gu had referred to Tian-shi only as an adopted distant niece, and, to Tian-shi, Lady Meng had mentioned that the bridegroom was a scholar, without giving away his name. (It would be embarrassing to give out the name.) It was not until after the wedding ceremony that they came to know each other’s identity. From then on, the couple lived in domestic peace and were as dutiful to their elders as could be. Since Inspector Gu was without male issue, Mr. Lu became heir to the family fortune and devoted his e orts to studying for the imperial examinations. In due course, he was sent to the National University by Inspector Gu, who believed that Lu was now ready for all three sections of the examinations. Later, he did indeed pass the examinations at all levels. His two sons were given the surnames of Lu and Gu respectively to carry on the names of both families, whereas Liang Shangbin’s family line terminated. (Neat ending.) There is a poem that says,