Original Text
In Guangping County, there was an old man named Feng who had a son called Xiangru; both father and son were scholars of the first degree. Old Feng was nearly sixty years of age, upright and honest by nature, yet his household often lacked sufficient food and clothing. In recent years, his wife and daughter-in-law had died one after another, leaving him to do all the chores, even drawing water and cooking meals himself. One night, Feng Xiangru was sitting in the moonlight when he suddenly saw the daughter of the eastern neighbor peeping over the wall. She appeared exceedingly beautiful. Xiangru approached her, and she smiled. When he beckoned to her, she neither came nor went away. After repeated invitations, she finally climbed over a ladder and came to him, and they shared the same bed. When he asked her name, she said, "I am Hongyu, the daughter of the neighbor." Xiangru was greatly delighted and wished to pledge eternal vows with her, to which she agreed. Thereafter, Hongyu came to him every night, and this continued for about half a year.
One night, Old Man Feng rose from his bed and heard the sound of a woman laughing and chatting. Peeping through a crack, he saw Hongyu and flew into a great rage. He called his son out and scolded him, saying, "You beast, what have you done! In such poverty and destitution, you still refuse to work hard and apply yourself, yet you stoop to such frivolous and dissolute behavior? If others learn of this, it will ruin your virtue; if they do not, it will still shorten your life!" Feng Xiangru knelt on the ground, weeping, and confessed his remorse. Old Man Feng then rebuked Hongyu, saying, "A woman who does not observe the rules of the boudoir defiles herself and brings shame upon others. If this matter comes to light, it will bring disgrace not only to our family!" Having finished his tirade, he went back to bed in a huff. Hongyu, with tears streaming down her face, said, "The old gentleman's reprimand fills me with shame! Our fate together has come to an end!" Feng Xiangru replied, "While my father lives, I dare not act on my own. If you have any affection for me, you should bear with this for now." But Hongyu's words showed no sign of relenting, and Feng Xiangru, in despair, began to weep. Hongyu stopped him and said, "Between us, there has been no matchmaker's introduction nor parental consent; sneaking through walls and creeping through holes—how can such a union last until our hair turns white? There is a good match for you here; you should marry her." Feng Xiangru said he was too poor to afford a wife, and Hongyu replied, "Wait for me tomorrow night, and I will devise a plan for you." The next night, Hongyu indeed came, bringing forty taels of silver, which she gave to Feng Xiangru. She said, "Sixty li from here, in Wu Village, there is a family named Wei with a daughter of eighteen. Because the bride-price demanded is high, she has not yet been married off. If you offer them plenty of silver, the matter will surely be settled." With these words, she departed.
Feng Xiangru found an opportunity to tell his father that he intended to seek a marriage match, but concealed the matter of the bride price. Old Feng, thinking to himself that without money it would likely be impossible, refused to let him go. Feng Xiangru then spoke tactfully, saying, "Let me but try." So Old Feng nodded his consent. Feng Xiangru borrowed a horse and a servant and set out for the Wei family in Wu Village. The Wei family were originally farmers, and Feng Xiangru called Old Wei aside to speak with him privately. Old Wei knew that the Feng family was a great clan, and seeing Feng Xiangru's dignified bearing, his heart was already inclined to agree, though he was troubled by not knowing how much betrothal gift would be offered. Feng Xiangru, hearing his hesitant words, understood his meaning and placed all the silver he had brought upon the table. Old Wei, overjoyed at the sight of the silver, hastily begged a scholar from a neighboring house to act as intermediary, wrote out the marriage contract on red paper, and the two parties sealed the betrothal. Feng Xiangru entered the inner chamber to pay respects to the old mother, where he saw the cramped quarters and the Wei girl hiding behind her mother. Glancing at the girl, though her attire was poor, her spirit and countenance were dazzlingly beautiful, and his heart secretly rejoiced. Old Wei borrowed a neighbor's house to entertain the son-in-law, saying, "You need not come in person to fetch the bride. When we have prepared a few garments, on the appointed day we shall carry her over to you." Feng Xiangru fixed the wedding date with Old Wei and returned home. He deceived his father, saying, "The Wei family is pleased that we are a proper scholarly household and asks for no betrothal gift." Old Feng was delighted to hear this. On the agreed day, the Wei family indeed sent their daughter over. This girl was diligent and frugal, gentle and obedient, and the couple enjoyed great harmony.
After two years had passed, the Wei family's daughter gave birth to a son, named Fu'er. On the Qingming Festival, she carried Fu'er to sweep the ancestral graves, where she encountered a country gentleman named Song. This Song had once served as a censor but had been dismissed from office for accepting bribes; living idly at home, he still threw his weight around and bullied the common folk. Returning from the graves that day, he saw the Wei daughter's beauty and took a fancy to her. Inquiring among the villagers, he learned she was Feng Xiangru's wife. Judging that the Feng family were poor scholars, he thought to tempt them with a large sum of money, hoping to sway their resolve, and so sent a servant to sound them out. When Feng Xiangru suddenly heard this overture, his face turned livid with rage, but then, realizing he could not contend with the Song family, he suppressed his anger, forced a smile, and went inside to tell his father. Old Feng flew into a fury upon hearing this, rushed out of the house, and, pointing at the sky and stamping the ground, heaped a torrent of abuse upon the Song servant. The servant fled with his head tucked, scurrying back home. Song, enraged in turn, dispatched several men to burst into the Feng home, where they violently beat both father and son, raising a clamor like a boiling cauldron. Hearing the commotion, the Wei daughter cast her son onto the bed, let her hair hang loose, and ran out crying for help. The Song thugs, seeing her, seized her and carried her off amid the uproar. The Feng father and son were left battered and wounded, groaning on the ground, while the child wailed alone in the room. The neighbors, pitying the family, helped the two men onto their beds. After a day, Feng Xiangru could stand with the aid of a staff, but Old Feng, choked with rage, refused food and drink, vomiting blood until he died. Feng Xiangru wept bitterly, then, carrying his son, went to the yamen to file a complaint, pursuing the case all the way to the provincial governor and the viceroy, nearly every court in the land, yet never obtaining justice. Later, hearing that his wife had died unyielding, his grief and fury deepened. A vast, bitter hatred filled his chest, with no outlet for redress. He often thought to ambush and kill Song by the roadside, but feared his many attendants and had no one to entrust his young son to. Day and night he mourned and brooded, never closing his eyes in sleep.
One day, a burly man with a thick beard and a broad jaw, whom Feng Xiangru had never seen before, suddenly arrived at his home to offer condolences. Feng invited him to sit and was about to ask his name and hometown, but the visitor abruptly said, "You have a father's murder and a wife's abduction to avenge—have you forgotten your vengeance?" Suspecting the man was a spy sent by the Song family, Feng merely responded with polite evasions. The visitor glared angrily, his eyes nearly splitting at the corners, and abruptly rose to leave, saying, "I thought you were a man of honor, but now I see you are a contemptible wretch!" Realizing this man was no ordinary person, Feng knelt and grasped his hand, saying, "I truly feared the Song family was trying to trick me into revealing my true feelings. Now I can open my heart to you: I have endured hardship and humiliation for many days, not just one or two, but I worry about this infant in my arms, lest I cut off my lineage. You are a righteous man—can you, like Gongsun Chujiu caring for the orphan of Zhao, take charge of my child?" The man replied, "That is women's work, not for me. What you wish to entrust to another, do yourself; what you wish to do yourself, let me take your place." Hearing this, Feng knocked his head repeatedly on the ground, but the visitor left without a backward glance. When Feng pressed for his name, the man said, "If I fail, you shall not blame me; if I succeed, you need not thank me." With that, he departed. Fearing implication, Feng took his son and fled.
When night fell and the entire Song household had retired to sleep, someone vaulted over several high walls and slew the Imperial Censor Song and his two sons, along with a daughter-in-law and a maidservant. The Song family filed a complaint with the magistrate, who was greatly alarmed. The Songs insisted that Feng Xiangru was the perpetrator, so constables were dispatched to arrest him. Upon reaching Feng's home, they found Feng Xiangru had vanished, which only deepened their suspicion. The Song servants and government constables scoured the area, and at nightfall they reached the Southern Hills, where they heard an infant's cry. Following the sound, they captured Feng Xiangru, bound him with ropes, and marched him away. The child wailed ever more piteously, and the men snatched it away, casting it by the roadside, filling Feng Xiangru with boundless resentment. When brought before the magistrate, the official asked, "Why did you commit murder?" Feng Xiangru replied, "I am wronged! The murders occurred at night, but I had left home during the day, carrying a crying infant—how could I have scaled walls to kill?" The magistrate retorted, "If you did not kill, why did you flee?" Feng Xiangru was at a loss for words, unable to explain, and was thrown into prison. Weeping, he said, "My death is of little consequence, but what crime has this orphan committed?" The magistrate answered, "You have slain so many—what grievance is there in the death of your son?" Feng Xiangru was stripped of his scholar's rank, subjected to severe torture, yet he never confessed. That very night, as the magistrate had just lain down, he heard something strike his bed with a sharp, crisp sound, and he cried out in terror. The entire household rose in alarm and rushed to the room; by lamplight, they saw a short dagger, its blade sharp as frost, embedded an inch deep into the headboard, so firmly that it could not be pulled out. The magistrate, beholding this, was frightened out of his wits. The constables searched everywhere with weapons but found no trace. The magistrate, secretly fearful and also because the Songs were already dead and posed no further threat, submitted a detailed report to his superiors, exonerating Feng Xiangru, and in the end, set him free.
Feng Xiangru returned home to find his rice jar nearly empty, facing his solitary chamber in utter loneliness. Fortunately, the neighbors took pity on him and sent a little food and drink, allowing him to barely scrape by. When he thought of his great revenge being accomplished, he could not help but smile with joy; yet when he recalled the terrible calamity that had nearly wiped out his entire family, tears streamed down his cheeks; and when he considered his lifelong poverty and lack of an heir, he could no longer restrain himself and would go to a secluded place to weep aloud. Thus half a year passed, and the legal case gradually relaxed. Feng Xiangru then begged the magistrate to return the bones of the Wei family's daughter to him. After he had buried her remains, he returned home, so grief-stricken that he wished to end his life. Lying on his bed at night, tossing and turning, he could see no path of survival. Suddenly there came a knock at the door; he listened intently and heard someone outside murmuring and speaking with a child. Feng Xiangru hastily rose to look outside, and it seemed to be a woman. As soon as he opened the door, the person outside asked, "Your great injustice has been avenged—are you well?" The voice was very familiar, but in his haste he could not recall who it was. When he shone a lamp on her, it was Hongyu. She was holding a child by the hand, and the little one was smiling at her side. Feng Xiangru, without pausing for any other words, embraced Hongyu and burst into loud sobs, and Hongyu too was deeply sorrowful. After a moment, she pushed the child forward and said, "Have you forgotten your father?" The child tugged at Hongyu's clothes, gazing at Feng Xiangru with bright eyes; upon close examination, it was actually Fuer. Feng Xiangru was greatly startled and asked tearfully, "Where did you get our son?" Hongyu said, "To tell you the truth, when I said before that I was a neighbor's daughter, that was false. I am actually a fox spirit. That day, as I was walking at night, I heard a child crying at the mouth of a valley, so I took him and raised him in Shaanxi. Hearing that your great ordeal was over, I brought him back to reunite with you." Feng Xiangru wiped his tears and bowed to Hongyu in gratitude. The child nestled in Hongyu's arms as if clinging to his mother, and did not even recognize his father.
Before dawn, Hongyu quickly rose. Feng Xiangru asked her, and she said, "I plan to leave." Feng Xiangru knelt naked at the bedside, weeping so hard he could not lift his head. Hongyu laughed and said, "I was teasing you. Now that our household is newly established, we must rise early and retire late." Thereupon, she cut away weeds and swept the courtyard, laboring like a man. Feng Xiangru worried that their poverty would make it impossible for Hongyu alone to sustain them. Hongyu said, "You just focus on your studies and do not worry about gains or losses; perhaps we will not end up starving by the roadside." She then took out silver to purchase spinning and weaving tools, rented several dozen mu of land, and hired laborers to till it. Hongyu shouldered a hoe to weed the fields and repaired the leaky roof, toiling diligently day after day. The villagers, seeing her virtue, were all willing to help her. After about half a year, the Feng household flourished steadily, as if it were a wealthy family. Feng Xiangru said, "We have survived this calamity, all thanks to you building from nothing. But there is one matter I have not yet resolved—what shall be done?" Hongyu asked what it was, and Feng Xiangru said, "The examination date is near, but my scholar status has not yet been restored." Hongyu laughed and said, "I sent four ingots of silver to the academic official some days ago, and your title has already been reinstated in the records. If I had waited for you to think of it, it would have been too late." Feng Xiangru was even more amazed by Hongyu's supernatural abilities. In this examination, Feng Xiangru passed and became a provincial graduate. At that time, he was thirty-six years old, and his family's fertile fields stretched in a continuous expanse, with spacious and deep halls. Hongyu's figure was graceful, as if she could drift away with the wind, yet she worked harder than any farm woman; even in the harsh conditions of winter, her hands remained tender and fair. She claimed to be thirty-eight years old, but to others, she appeared no more than twenty.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: Feng's son was virtuous, and his father possessed moral integrity, thus Heaven rewarded them with chivalry. Not only was the man chivalrous, but the fox was also chivalrous. Their encounter was indeed extraordinary! Yet the magistrate's judgments were so riddled with errors as to make one's hair stand on end. That flying knife, with a resounding clang, struck straight into the wood at the head of the bed—what a pity it did not shift half a foot closer to the bed! If Su Shunqin of the Song Dynasty had read this tale, he would surely have poured a large cup of wine and said, "What a shame, it missed the mark!"
Commentary
This is a story imbued with considerable romantic and legendary color.
The scholar Feng Xiangru, through the sincere assistance of the fox maiden Hongyu, married and had a son; later, with Hongyu's help, the child was spared death and the family fortunes were restored. By the righteous intervention of a chivalrous swordsman, the vengeance for the murder of his wife and the theft of his spouse was exacted, and the corrupt officials and cruel magistrates were punished. If we were to excise the unreal, fantastical fox maiden and the knight-errant from the tale, then Feng Xiangru's dire straits in real life, the tragedy of his wife's murder and his own ruin, would be starkly and bloodily laid bare, with no one to turn to for justice. Feng Xiangru and his father were both scholars, yet they petitioned everywhere, from local authorities up to the governor-general, nearly exhausting all avenues of appeal, but ultimately could not obtain redress. One can imagine that if the victims had been ordinary peasants, their plight of having no recourse and no hope of fair judgment would have been even more grievous! No wonder Pu Songling, in his "Commentary by the Historian of the Strange," wrote with indignation: "The officials are so heedless and indifferent, it makes one's hair stand on end!"
Although the core of the tale "Red Jade" revolves around the serious subject of a legal case, it is rendered vivid and deeply impressive through the romantic love between Scholar Feng and the fox maiden, the upright and straightforward character of Feng's father, and the chivalrous intervention of a swordsman who draws his blade to aid them.