Original Text
There was a certain Mr. Yu, who in his youth was chivalrous and righteous, fond of practicing martial arts, and possessed such great strength that he could lift a heavy kettle and whirl it about like a whirlwind. During the Chongzhen era of the Ming dynasty, he went to the capital to take the imperial examination, but his servant fell ill with an epidemic and lay bedridden, causing him great worry. It happened that in the marketplace there was a fortune-teller skilled in divination who could calculate a person's life and death. Mr. Yu intended to consult him about his servant's illness. When he arrived at the fortune-teller's place, before he could speak, the fortune-teller said, "You must be here to ask about your servant's illness?" Mr. Yu nodded in surprise. The fortune-teller added, "The patient is not in danger, but you are!" Mr. Yu then asked him to divine his own fate. After casting the hexagram, the fortune-teller exclaimed in shock, "You will surely die within three days." Mr. Yu was stunned for a long while. The fortune-teller calmly said, "I have a small art; if you reward me with ten taels of silver, I can ward off evil and eliminate the calamity." Mr. Yu thought to himself that life and death are determined by fate, and how could any art dispel them? So he ignored the fortune-teller, rose, and prepared to leave. The fortune-teller said, "Grudging such a small sum, do not regret it! Do not regret it!" Mr. Yu's close friends were all worried for him and urged him to spend all his money to beg the fortune-teller to deliver him from disaster, but Mr. Yu did not heed their advice.
On the third day, Yu Gong sat upright in the inn, calmly observing the situation, but the entire day passed without any sign of illness. When night fell, he closed the doors and windows, lit the lamp, and sat in the room with his sword at hand. By the time the first watch was nearly over, there was still no hint of death. As he was about to go to bed, he suddenly heard a rustling sound from the crack in the window. Hastily going to look, he saw a tiny figure carrying a halberd slip in, which upon landing grew to the height of a full-grown man. Yu Gong immediately drew his sword and leaped up, thrusting fiercely, but the figure wavered elusively, and he missed. The figure suddenly shrank again, seeking the window crack to escape. Yu Gong rushed forward and struck with force, and the small figure fell at the blow. Lighting the lamp, he saw it was a paper man, cut in two at the waist. Not daring to lie down, he sat waiting once more. After a while, a monster crashed through the window, its face hideous, like a demon. As soon as it landed, Yu Gong struck forward swiftly, cleaving it in two, both halves writhing on the ground. Fearing it might rise again, he struck repeatedly, each blow landing with a crisp sound. Examining it closely, he found it was a clay figurine, shattered into fragments. Yu Gong then moved his seat beneath the window, watching the crack intently. After a long time, he heard a sound like an ox breathing heavily outside, and a monster was pushing forcefully against the window frame, causing the walls and roof to shake as if about to collapse. Fearing he might be crushed, Yu Gong resolved to rush out and fight, so he flung open the door bolt and dashed out. There he saw a great ghost, as tall as the eaves, its face black as coal in the dim moonlight, with yellow light gleaming from its eyes, its upper body bare, feet unshod, holding a bow with arrows at its waist. As Yu Gong stood in shock, the ghost drew its bow and shot an arrow; Yu Gong parried with his sword, and the arrow fell to the ground. Just as he prepared to strike, the ghost shot another arrow. Yu Gong leaped aside to dodge, and the arrow pierced the wall, quivering with a sound. Enraged, the ghost drew its saber and swung it like a whirlwind, slashing fiercely at Yu Gong. Yu Gong met the attack with the agility of an ape; the ghost’s blade struck a stone in the courtyard, cleaving it in two. Then Yu Gong darted between the ghost’s legs and sliced at its ankle, producing a clang of metal. The ghost roared like thunder, turned, and raised its saber to strike again. Yu Gong ducked and slipped under the ghost’s crotch; the ghost’s blade fell, cutting his robe. Now beneath the ghost’s ribs, Yu Gong struck with his sword, which rang out like bronze or iron; the ghost was hit and fell prone to the ground. Yu Gong continued to hack at it, the blows sounding like wooden clappers. Lighting the lamp, he saw it was a wooden puppet, life-sized, with a bow and arrows still tied at its waist, its face carved in a hideous grimace, and blood flowing from the sword wounds. Yu Gong then lit a candle and sat until dawn. He realized then that these apparitions were sent by the fortune-teller, intended to kill him and thus prove the accuracy of his divination.
The next day, Master Yu recounted the entire affair to all his friends who knew of it, and together they went to the fortune-teller's dwelling. The fortune-teller, catching sight of Master Yu from afar, vanished in the blink of an eye. Someone remarked, "This is the art of invisibility; it can be broken with dog's blood." Acting on this advice, Master Yu prepared the blood and sought out the fortune-teller once more. The fortune-teller again disappeared as before, whereupon Master Yu hastily splashed the dog's blood upon the spot where the man had stood. At once, the fortune-teller reappeared in his true form, his head and face blurred and smeared with blood, his eyes glinting eerily, standing like a specter. Master Yu then seized him and delivered him to the proper authorities, where he was sentenced to death.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: I have often said that spending money on fortune-telling is a foolish endeavor. In this world, how many who practice this art can accurately foretell the exact day of a person's death? If the divination proves inaccurate, it is no different from having never consulted it at all. Moreover, even if one is plainly told that the hour of death is approaching, what remedy can be found? And what of those who, by taking human lives, seek to demonstrate their uncanny precision in judgment—are these not even more terrifying!
Commentary
Why would a diviner send a demon to kill Lord Yu? To prove the accuracy of his own divination through Lord Yu's death. And why prove the accuracy of his divination? To make more people believe in its efficacy, thereby seeking his services and swindling more money. Thus, driven by profit, one may commit many unimaginable and heinous crimes.
The diviner sent three spectral entities to assault Yu Gong in succession: first a paper effigy, then a clay figurine, and finally a wooden puppet. Each apparition grew more formidable than the last, and Yu Gong's peril escalated with each encounter, bearing a striking resemblance to the Tang dynasty tale of Nie Yinniang, wherein the Wei warlord dispatched assassins to murder Liu Changyi.
Regarding the depiction of the large wooden puppet ghost in the latter part, similar descriptions had already appeared in the earlier tales "The Mountain Spirit" and "The Monster in the Buckwheat Field," yet this story presents further variations and developments in its portrayal, revealing Pu Songling's astonishing literary prowess.
Pu Songling believed in the law of cause and effect and in the will of Heaven, yet he placed no faith in divination, deeming 'consulting oracles to be an act of folly.' This presents a most intriguing and paradoxical contradiction.