Original Text
The scholar Kong Xueli was a descendant of the sage Confucius. He was gentle and reserved by nature, skilled in composing poetry. He had a kindred spirit who served as a magistrate in Tiantai County, who sent a letter inviting him to visit. By the time Kong arrived, the magistrate had unfortunately passed away from illness. Thus, Kong found himself stranded in that place, unable to return home, and took lodging at Putuo Temple, where he was employed by the monks to copy scriptures.
About a hundred paces west of Putuo Temple stood the mansion of the Mr. Shan family. Mr. Shan had originally been a scion of a wealthy house, but after a great lawsuit his fortunes declined, and as his household dwindled, he moved to the countryside, leaving the mansion vacant. One day, heavy snow fell in swirling flakes, and the roads were utterly silent, with not a single traveler in sight. Kong Sheng happened to pass by the Shan mansion's gate and saw a young man emerge, whose features were exceedingly handsome. Upon seeing Kong Sheng, the young man stepped forward to greet him, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, invited Kong Sheng inside as a guest. Kong Sheng, taking a liking to the young man, readily followed him through the gate. Inside, though the rooms were not particularly spacious, they were adorned everywhere with silk curtains and brocade hangings, and the walls were covered with ancient calligraphy and paintings. On the desk lay a volume of books, its cover inscribed with the title "Langhuan Trivial Records." Kong Sheng leafed through it and found its contents were all things he had never read before. Seeing the young man residing in the Shan mansion, Kong Sheng assumed he was the master and did not inquire further into his lineage or background. The young man, after asking in detail about Kong Sheng's circumstances, expressed great sympathy and urged him to open a school and take on students. Kong Sheng sighed and said, "I am but a wanderer in a strange land—who would be willing to recommend me?" The young man replied, "If you do not disdain my ignorance, I would gladly take you as my teacher." Kong Sheng was delighted, but dared not assume the role of a master, preferring instead to treat each other as friends. He then asked, "Why has your family's mansion been locked up for so long?" The young man answered, "This is the Shan family's estate. Earlier, because the young master Shan moved to the countryside, it has long stood vacant. My surname is Huangfu, and my family has lived in Shaanxi for generations. But our home was destroyed by a wildfire, so we have temporarily borrowed this place to dwell." Only then did Kong Sheng realize that the young man was not the master of the Shan house. That evening, the two chatted and laughed most joyfully, and the young man invited Kong Sheng to stay the night.
At the first light of dawn the next day, a servant entered the room and kindled a charcoal fire. The young man had already risen and gone to the inner chamber, while Scholar Kong remained seated on the bed wrapped in his quilt. Presently, another servant came in and announced, "The Grand Old Master is here." Kong hastily arose and saw an old man with snow-white hair and temples enter the room, who addressed him with sincere gratitude, saying, "I am deeply obliged to you, sir, for not disdaining my unworthy son and for consenting to instruct him in letters. This child has but just begun to study poetry and prose; I pray you, do not treat him as an equal merely because of your friendship." Having spoken thus, he presented Kong with a set of silk garments, a sable cap, and a pair each of socks and shoes. After the old man had seen Kong wash his face and comb his hair, he ordered wine and dishes to be brought forth. Kong observed that the tables, couches, skirts, and robes here were all of such exquisite craftsmanship that he could not even name them, each piece dazzling the eye. After several rounds of wine, the old man rose to take his leave and departed leaning on his staff. When the meal was finished, the young man brought out the relevant course assignments for Kong to examine; Kong saw that they were all ancient prose and classical poetry, with none of the eight-legged essays required for the imperial examinations, and asked why this was so. The young man smiled and said, "I do not seek to attain fame through the civil service examinations." That evening, the young man again ordered wine to be served and said, "Let us enjoy ourselves to the fullest tonight, for tomorrow it will not be permitted." He then called a servant and said, "Go and see if the Grand Old Master has retired. If he is asleep, quietly summon Xiangnu to come here." The servant went out and first brought back a pipa wrapped in a brocade bag. After a while, a maidservant entered the room, resplendently attired and of surpassing beauty. The young man bade her play the tune "The Lament of the Xiang River Goddesses." The maidservant plucked the strings with an ivory plectrum, producing notes that now soared with passion and now trembled with melancholy, their rhythm unlike anything Kong had ever heard before. The young man then called for large goblets and they drank freely, continuing their revelry until the third watch of the night before they dispersed.
The next day, the two rose early to study. The young master was exceedingly clever, able to memorize texts at a single glance and recite them instantly; within two or three months, the poems and essays he composed were already striking and exquisite. They agreed to drink together every five days, and each time they summoned Xiangnu. One evening, Kong Sheng, emboldened by wine, grew heated and fixed his gaze upon Xiangnu without restraint. The young master, perceiving his intent, said, "This maidservant was raised by my father. You, elder brother, live alone without a wife, and I have been planning for you day and night for some time now. Soon I shall find you a suitable companion." Kong Sheng replied, "If you are kind enough to seek a partner for me, she must be like Xiangnu." The young master laughed and said, "You are indeed what people call one who has seen little and marvels much! If you consider this good enough, your wishes are far too easily satisfied."
After another half year, Scholar Kong thought of taking a stroll in the suburbs. When he reached the main gate, he found both doors bolted from the outside. He asked the young master about it, who replied, "My father fears that my socializing and travels might disturb my concentration, so he uses this method to decline visitors." Hearing this, Scholar Kong felt at ease. It was then the height of summer, hot and humid, so Scholar Kong and the young master moved their study to a garden pavilion. One day, a peach-sized abscess suddenly swelled on Scholar Kong's chest; overnight it grew to the size of a bowl, causing him great pain and incessant groaning. The young master visited him from dawn to dusk, anxiously unable to eat or sleep. After a few more days, the abscess worsened, and Scholar Kong could no longer eat or drink. The old master also came to see him, but could only sigh with the young master. The young master said, "Last night I thought that Sister Jiaona might be able to cure Mr. Kong's illness. I sent someone to call her back from our maternal grandfather's house—why is she taking so long?" Soon, a servant entered and announced, "Miss Jiaona has arrived, and Auntie and Miss Asong have come with her." The young master and his father immediately rose and went to the inner chambers. After a moment, the young master led his sister in to see Scholar Kong. Jiaona was about thirteen or fourteen, with a charming, intelligent gaze and a waist as graceful as a willow. At the sight of such a stunning beauty, Scholar Kong forgot his pain and groans, his spirits lifting. The young master said to Jiaona, "This is my dearest friend, closer than a brother; please treat him well." Jiaona then composed her shy expression, swept her long sleeves, and approached the bedside to examine him. As she took his pulse, a fragrant aroma wafted over, surpassing orchids. After feeling his pulse, she smiled and said, "This illness was to be expected—the heart's pulse has stirred. Though serious, it can still be cured. But the pus has congealed, and cutting the skin and flesh is unavoidable." She then removed a gold bracelet from her arm, placed it over the affected area, and pressed it down slowly. The swollen, festering wound gradually rose more than an inch above the bracelet, with the remaining swelling drawn into the bracelet's circle, no longer as large as a bowl. Then Jiaona lifted her robe, unfastened a small knife with a blade thinner than paper. With one hand holding the bracelet and the other wielding the knife, she gently cut along the root of the abscess. Purple blood continuously oozed from the wound, staining the bed mat. At this moment, Scholar Kong, captivated by Jiaona's alluring form, felt no pain but rather feared she would finish too quickly, denying him more closeness. Soon, the rotten flesh was all cut away, like a knot on a diseased tree. Jiaona then called for water to wash the wound. Afterward, she spat out a red pill the size of a pellet from her mouth, placed it on the flesh, and pressed it to rotate. At the first turn, Scholar Kong felt a surge of heat in his chest; at the second, the wound itched slightly; at the third, a cool sensation permeated his entire body, reaching deep into his bones. Jiaona retrieved the red pill, returned it to her mouth, and said, "It's healed!" Then she quickly left the room. Scholar Kong immediately sprang up and hurried after her to express his gratitude, as if his long illness had vanished in an instant. Yet whenever he recalled Jiaona's beautiful face, he could not contain himself.
From this point onward, Scholar Kong abandoned his books and sat idly all day, with nothing left to sustain his spirit. The young master had already discerned his thoughts and said, "I have been searching for a suitable companion for you for some time, and at last I have found an excellent match." Scholar Kong asked, "Who is she?" The young master replied, "She is also a relative of mine." Scholar Kong pondered for a long while, then said, "There is no need." Facing the wall, he recited two lines of verse: "Having sailed the vast sea, no other waters can compare; having seen the clouds of Mount Wu, no other clouds can match." The young master understood his meaning and said, "My father admires your profound learning and often wishes to form a marriage alliance with you. But I have only a younger sister, and she is still too young. My aunt has a daughter named A-Song, who is eighteen years old and not at all ill-favored. If you do not believe me, Sister A-Song comes to the garden pavilion every day; you can secretly watch from the front chamber and see for yourself." Scholar Kong did as the young master suggested, and indeed saw Jiaona accompanying a beautiful young woman. Her brows were dark and arched like moth antennae, her feet in embroidered phoenix slippers were delicate and small, and her countenance rivaled Jiaona's. Overjoyed, Scholar Kong asked the young master to act as matchmaker. The next day, the young master emerged from the inner chambers and congratulated him, saying, "It is done." They then prepared a separate courtyard for Scholar Kong's wedding. That night, drums and music resounded, and the dust on the rafters was shaken down in swirling clouds. Scholar Kong, having long yearned for a celestial maiden to share his bed, even doubted whether the Moon Palace of Guanghan was truly in the heavens. After the marriage, Scholar Kong's heart was filled with utmost contentment.
One day, the young master suddenly came to Kong Sheng and said, "The benefit I have gained from studying with you is remembered in my heart every day. But recently, the lawsuit involving Master Dan's family has been settled, and he is about to return, pressing urgently for the return of the residence. We plan to leave here and go back to the west, and thinking that from now on we are bound to find it hard to meet again, my heart is thrown into turmoil by the sorrow of parting." Kong Sheng expressed his willingness to go with them, but the young master advised him instead to return to his own hometown, which Kong Sheng found difficult. The young master said, "Do not worry; we can send you back at once." Before long, the old master arrived with Lady Song, and they presented Kong Sheng with a hundred taels of gold. The young master took Kong Sheng and his wife by the hands and instructed them to close their eyes and not look. Kong Sheng only felt himself floating lightly into the air, with the wind whistling past his ears. After a long while, he heard the young master say, "We have arrived." Kong Sheng opened his eyes and indeed saw his hometown, and only then did he realize that the young master was no ordinary mortal. Overjoyed, Kong Sheng knocked on his family's door; his mother was overjoyed beyond measure to see him, and also delighted with his beautiful wife. Amidst their joy and relief, when they turned around, the young master had vanished. Lady Song served her mother-in-law with great filial piety, and her beauty and virtue were renowned far and wide among the neighbors.
Later, Scholar Kong passed the imperial examinations and was appointed as the Judicial Commissioner of Yan'an Prefecture. He took his entire family to assume the post, except for his mother, who did not accompany them due to the great distance. Song Niang gave birth to a son, named Xiao Huan. Not long after, Scholar Kong offended a high-ranking inspecting official and was dismissed from office, left to await further orders in that place, unable to return home for the time being. One day, while hunting in the outskirts, he happened upon a handsome young man riding a small black horse, who gazed at him intently. Looking closely, Scholar Kong recognized him as Prince Huangfu. They reined in their horses, stopped together, and felt a mingled sense of sorrow and joy. The prince invited Scholar Kong to his home. They arrived at a village where the trees were dense and lush, their thick shade blotting out the sun. At the prince's residence, the gate was studded with large golden nails, resembling the mansion of a noble and wealthy family. Scholar Kong inquired about the prince's sister and learned that she was already married; he also heard that his mother-in-law had passed away, filling him with deep grief and poignant emotion. After staying one night, Scholar Kong departed, then brought his wife and child back with him. Jiao Na also came, holding Scholar Kong's child, lifting him up and setting him down, teasingly saying, "Sister has mixed up our lineage!" Scholar Kong again thanked Jiao Na for her past life-saving treatment. She smiled and replied, "Brother-in-law has become prosperous. The scar has healed, but has the pain been forgotten?" Jiao Na's husband, Wu Lang, also came to pay his respects. Scholar Kong's family stayed for two nights before leaving.
One day, the young master, with a sorrowful countenance, said to Scholar Kong, "Heaven is about to send down a great calamity; can you save us?" Though Scholar Kong did not know what it was, he readily agreed. The young master swiftly went out, summoned the entire household into the hall, and together they bowed in gratitude to Scholar Kong. Greatly startled, Scholar Kong urgently pressed for an explanation. Then the young master said, "I am not human, but a fox spirit. Now we face the calamity of a thunderbolt strike. If you are willing to stand firm against this disaster and rescue us, my entire family may yet hope to survive. Otherwise, I beg you to take the child and leave quickly, lest you be implicated." Scholar Kong swore to share life and death with them. So the young master asked him to take a sword and stand at the main gate, instructing him, "Even if the thunderbolts strike, do not move!" Scholar Kong prepared as instructed. Soon, dark clouds gathered in the sky, turning day into night, as if a great slab of black stone pressed down. When he looked back at the former dwelling, he could no longer see any grand halls or deep courtyards; only a great tomb stood towering, with a bottomless pit beneath. As he stood in astonishment, a sudden thunderclap rent the air, shaking the earth and mountains; then a fierce wind and torrential rain uprooted ancient trees. Though Scholar Kong felt his eyes dazzled and his ears deafened, he stood firm without moving. Amidst the rolling black smoke, a hideous demon suddenly appeared, with a sharp beak and long claws, dragging a person out of the pit and ascending with the smoke. Scholar Kong glanced at the person's garments and felt in his heart that it was Jiaona. So he leaped up and struck the demon in the air with all his might, causing the captured person to fall. Then another earth-shattering thunderclap burst forth, and Scholar Kong fell to the ground, dead.
After a while, the clouds parted and the sun emerged, and Jiaona herself revived. Seeing Kongsheng lying dead beside her, she wept bitterly and cried, "Konglang died to save me—what use is it for me to live on!" At that moment, Songniang also came out, and together they lifted Kongsheng and carried him home. Jiaona bade Songniang support Kongsheng's head, and had the young master use a golden hairpin to pry open his teeth; she herself pinched his cheeks with her fingers to part his lips, then with her tongue she spat the red pellet into his mouth, and blew breath into him mouth-to-mouth. The red pellet followed the breath down his throat, making a gurgling sound for a while. After another moment, Kongsheng suddenly opened his eyes and revived. Seeing his loved ones gathered around him, he felt as if he had just awakened from a deep dream, and thus the whole family was reunited, turning fear into joy.
Kong Sheng felt that the burial ground was no fit place for prolonged dwelling, so he consulted with the others about returning together to his native home. The entire household unanimously agreed, save for Jiaona alone, who remained downcast and silent. Kong Sheng then invited her to accompany them along with her husband Wu Lang, but she fretted that her parents-in-law would be loath to part with their younger son, and thus the whole day passed without any decision being reached. Just then, a young servant from the Wu household came rushing in, his face streaming with sweat and his breath coming in gasps. Startled, they pressed him for news, and it turned out that the Wu family had also suffered calamity on that same day, with every member, young and old, having perished. Upon hearing this, Jiaona beat her breast and stamped her feet in anguish, her tears falling like rain. After much comforting from all sides, the plan to return together to Kong Sheng's homeland was finally settled. Kong Sheng spent several days in the city attending to affairs, and then the whole family packed their belongings and set out by night. Upon returning to his native place, Kong Sheng had the young master's family lodged in his idle garden, the gate of which was always kept locked, opened only when Kong Sheng and his wife Song Niang came to visit. Kong Sheng often spent time with the brother and sister, playing chess, drinking wine, chatting, and feasting together, as if they were one family. Little Huan grew up with a handsome countenance and the cunning nature of a fox. When he went out to wander the streets, everyone knew him to be the child born of a fox.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: As for Scholar Kong, I do not envy him for obtaining a beautiful wife, but rather for having an intimate female companion. Gazing upon her countenance could make one forget hunger and thirst, and hearing her voice could bring joy and laughter to one's face. To gain such a good friend, sharing wine and idle talk from time to time, that spiritual communion of 'colors bestowed and souls exchanged' far surpasses the physical pleasures of 'overturned garments and tangled robes.'
Commentary
Marriage is an invention of humankind. Marriage and love are not entirely one and the same; where there is marriage, love may not be found, and where there is love, marriage may not follow. Nor must the intimate affections between man and woman necessarily take the form of carnal union.
The story depicts the harmonious and affectionate relationship between the scholar Kong and a family of foxes. Three women appear in his life: the first is Xiangnu, whom Kong gazes at while flushed with wine and heat, only to be mocked by Prince Huangfu as one who has seen little and marvels much, with no deep affection involved; the second is Songniang, who later becomes Kong's wife, serving merely as his marital partner, their bond likely more ethical in nature; the third is Jiaona, the focal female character of the tale and its most radiant figure. She saves Kong twice, both being splendid episodes. The first time, out of a duty to heal her brother's friend, she treats a chest abscess on Kong, described with delicate ease and light humor—whether her witty remark about cutting flesh and peeling skin, or her gentle composure as she washes the wound, spits out a red pill, places it on the flesh, and presses it to rotate, makes Kong so enamored of her nearness that he not only feels no pain but fears the swift completion of the surgery, lest he lose her proximity. The second time, Kong dies to save Jiaona, and she, out of gratitude, cups his chin, transfers the red pill with her tongue, and breathes into his mouth with a kiss, brimming with passion and true feeling. Kong indeed loves Jiaona, but whether Jiaona's feelings for Kong stem from friendship or love is hard to discern; yet her innocent sincerity is something ordinary women in feudal society could never achieve. The Qing dynasty critic Dan Minglun remarked: "Jiaona knows how to express affection while observing propriety, innocent and natural, dignified in manner—lovable and admirable." This comment indeed touches the very essence of her character.