Original Text
Sun Taibai once recounted this strange tale: His great-grandfather was studying at the Willow Temple in South Mountain. One autumn, during the wheat harvest, he returned home for a visit and did not go back to the temple until over ten days later. Upon returning, he opened the door of his study and found the desk covered in dust and the windows thick with cobwebs. He called for a servant to clean the room, and they worked until evening, when it finally felt fresh and tidy enough to sit down. So he unpacked his bedding, spread it out, closed the door, and lay down to rest. By then, moonlight had already filled the window. He tossed and turned in bed for a long time without falling asleep, and all around was utterly silent, without a single sound. Suddenly, he heard a roaring wind, and the temple gate crashed open with a great noise. He thought to himself that surely one of the monks had forgotten to lock the gate. As he pondered this, he heard the wind gradually approach the door of his room. In no time, the door opened by itself. He was greatly puzzled, and before he could make sense of it, the wind had entered the room, and he heard the clanking sound of boots stepping closer to the bedroom door. Fear began to grip his heart. Then the bedroom door swung open, and he quickly looked up to see a huge ghost bending down to squeeze into the room, swiftly standing before his bed. The ghost straightened up, its height reaching the roof beam, its face like the skin of a ripe pumpkin, its eyes darting and rolling as it scanned the entire room. Its gaping mouth was as large as a basin, with a few sparse teeth three inches long, and as its tongue moved, a rasping sound came from its throat, echoing through the walls with a buzzing resonance. He was terrified to the extreme, and realizing he was only a foot away from the ghost, with no hope of escape, he thought he might as well take the chance to strike it desperately. So he secretly drew the dagger hidden under his pillow, suddenly pulled it out, and slashed fiercely, hitting the ghost right in the belly with a sound like striking a stone basin. Enraged, the ghost reached out its massive claws to grab him; he shrank back slightly, and the ghost seized the blanket, yanking it away in fury before departing. He was thrown to the floor along with the blanket, and lying prone, he cried out loudly. The household servants rushed in with torches, only to find the door still tightly closed as before, so they opened the window and jumped in. Seeing their master's condition, they were greatly alarmed. After helping him back into bed, Sun Taibai's great-grandfather slowly recounted everything that had happened. They all went to look and found the blanket wedged in the crack of the bedroom door. Opening the door and examining it by lamplight, they saw a claw print as large as a winnowing basket, with the fingers piercing through the fabric. At dawn, Sun Taibai's great-grandfather dared not stay any longer; he packed his bookcase and returned home. Later, when he inquired of the temple monks, they all said that no such strange occurrence had ever happened again.
Commentary
The mountain demon referred to here is not the mandrill of modern zoological classification, but a legendary unknown mountain spirit. The Zhengzitong cites the Baopuzi's chapter on climbing mountains: "The mountain spirit takes the form of a small child, with only one foot facing backward, and delights in harming people at night; it is called a xiao." In the current edition of the Baopuzi, the character for xiao is written differently, while in the Jingchu Suishiji and Dongfang Shuo's Shenyi Jing, it is written as sao. Among the folk of Shandong, it is regarded as a malevolent ghost, and local gazetteers often record the custom of setting off firecrackers at the Spring Festival to drive away the mountain demon. For instance, the Shanghe County Gazetteer states: "On the first day of the first lunar month... at the fifth watch, firecrackers are lit to drive away the mountain demon." The story is titled "The Mountain Demon," yet within the tale it is referred to as "the great ghost," showing that Pu Songling merely followed a certain tradition, and one need not take it too literally.
Sun Taibai's great-grandfather's terrifying encounter with a mountain demon was brief but narrated with remarkable structure. It begins with sound, through hearing: first indistinct, as 'the wind rumbled loudly,' then 'the wind drew nearer,' followed by 'the sound entered the room,' and finally 'the boots clattered heavily,' becoming concrete. Spatially, it progresses from afar to near, from the mountain gate, to the dwelling, to the door, then inside the room, to the bedchamber door, and finally to the front of the couch. Next, it describes the form, through sight: 'bent and squeezed in,' depicting its towering stature; 'old melon-rind complexion,' portraying its ugliness and gloom; 'eyes flickering with light' and 'a huge mouth like a basin,' painting its terror and dread; 'a roaring sound that echoed through the four walls,' signaling imminent danger. Finally, it recounts the struggle between Sun Taibai's great-grandfather and the mountain demon, a perilous and narrow escape, fortunate that the demon mistook the quilt for its attacker, and after seizing and tearing the quilt, departed in fury—the quilt became the sacrificial victim for Sun Taibai's great-grandfather.
The tale concludes with the family and Sun Taibai's grandfather seeing upon the quilt "claw marks like winnowing baskets, with the points of five fingers piercing through," leaving them all trembling with lingering fear. This ending not only supplements the depiction of the fierce struggle but also, after the story has ended, maintains a tension of terror that lingers endlessly.