Original Text
Scholar Han was a scion of a wealthy family and was very fond of entertaining guests. In the same village there was a certain Xu who often came to his home to drink. Once, while Han was hosting a banquet for guests, a Taoist priest arrived at the gate begging for alms. The servants threw coins or grain into his alms bowl, but the Taoist refused them all and would not leave. Enraged, the servants turned their backs and ignored him. Han heard the alms bowl being knocked for a long time and asked his servants what was happening; they told him the situation just described. Before they had finished speaking, the Taoist priest actually walked through the gate. Han invited him to take a seat, and the Taoist saluted the host and guests with a slight gesture of his hands before sitting down. After exchanging a few words, Han learned that the Taoist had only just arrived and taken up residence in a dilapidated temple east of the village. Han said, "Reverend, when did you come to lodge at the temple east of the village? I had not heard of it, and truly I have failed in my duties as a host." The Taoist replied, "I am a wandering hermit, newly arrived in this blessed land, with no acquaintances. I heard that you, layman, are very generous and fond of guests, so I came especially to beg a cup of wine." Han then invited the Taoist to drink. The Taoist had a great capacity for wine and drank freely. Xu, seeing that his Taoist robe was dirty and tattered, treated him with great discourtesy, and Han also regarded the Taoist as nothing more than a common itinerant sponger. The Taoist drank heavily, downing more than twenty cups before taking his leave.
From then on, at every banquet held by the Han family, the Taoist would appear, eating when there was food and drinking when there was wine, and Han Sheng grew somewhat weary of his frequent visits. One time, as they were drinking, Xu mocked him, saying, "Revered sir, you are a guest every day—do you never wish to play host for once?" The Taoist laughed and replied, "This poor Taoist and you, layman, are alike—both of us have but two shoulders supporting a single mouth." Xu was left speechless with shame. The Taoist then said, "Though that is so, this poor Taoist has long harbored a desire to repay your kindness, and when the time comes, I shall surely prepare a modest offering of wine to express my gratitude." After finishing the drink, the Taoist added, "Tomorrow at noon, I humbly invite you all to visit my humble abode."
The next day, Han and Xu went together to the ruined temple for the feast, both wondering whether the Taoist would actually have prepared a banquet. As they approached the temple, the Taoist was already waiting on the road, and the three walked along chatting, arriving at the temple gate before they knew it. Upon entering, they saw the courtyard completely renovated, with pavilions and towers stretching like clouds. The two were greatly astonished and asked, "We haven't been here for a long time—when were these built?" The Taoist replied, "They were just completed not long ago." When they entered the inner chamber, the furnishings were even more splendid, surpassing even the grandeur of noble families, and the two could not help but feel a deep respect. No sooner had they sat down than servants brought dishes and poured wine—all were handsome youths of about sixteen, dressed in embroidered silk robes and vermilion satin shoes. The wine and dishes were fragrant and delicious, exceedingly sumptuous. After the meal, refreshments were served, with rare fruits, most of which they could not name, arranged in crystal and jade dishes that shone brightly upon the table. Wine was poured into glass goblets, each over a foot wide. The Taoist then ordered the youths, "Summon the sisters of the Shi family." The youths left and soon returned with two beauties—one tall and slender, like a delicate willow, the other shorter and younger, both exquisitely charming and peerless in the world. The Taoist bade them sing to enliven the wine. The younger one clapped a rhythm and sang, while the elder accompanied on a vertical flute, their voices soft and clear. After the song ended, the Taoist raised his cup to urge the wine and had the two beauties pour for the guests. Then he looked at them and asked, "You beauties have not danced for a long time—can you still dance?" Several servants then spread a carpet before the table, and the two beauties danced facing each other, their long sleeves fluttering, their fragrance wafting all around. After the dance, they leaned against the screen. Xu and Han were utterly entranced, and before they knew it, they were already drunk.
The Daoist priest no longer attended to his guests; he raised his cup and drained it in one gulp, then stood up and said to them, "Pray, help yourselves to the wine; I shall rest a while and return shortly." With these words, he departed. Beneath the southern wall stood a wooden bed inlaid with mother-of-pearl, where two beauties spread silk brocade bedding and helped the priest lie down. The priest drew the elder beauty to share his pillow, while the younger one stood by the bedside to scratch his itch. Xu and Han, witnessing this, felt great indignation; Xu cried out loudly, "Priest, you must not behave so rudely!" He sought to stop him, but the priest hastily rose and fled. Seeing the younger beauty still standing before the bed, Xu, emboldened by wine, pulled her to the northern bed and openly embraced her as he lay down. Glancing at the beauty on the southern bed, who still slumbered on the embroidered couch, he said to Han, "Why must you be so pedantic?" Han then went straight to the southern bed. He wished to draw close to the beauty, but she was already asleep, and he could not turn her over; so he embraced her from behind and fell asleep. At dawn, Han awoke from his wine and his dream, and felt a cold object chilling him in his arms. Looking, he saw he was embracing a long stone slab while lying at the foot of the steps. Hastily he looked at Xu, who had not yet awakened, and was sleeping soundly in a broken latrine, pillowed on a stone from the cesspit. Han kicked him awake, and both were greatly alarmed. Gazing around, they saw only a courtyard overgrown with weeds and two dilapidated temple halls.
Commentary
This is a satirical allegorical work targeting philistines.
Why were Scholar Han and Xu Shi toyed with by the Taoist's illusionary arts? The direct cause lay in their lecherous and wanton conduct. Delving deeper, it stemmed from their disrespect and even rudeness toward the Taoist. In Scholar Han's case, he failed to treat the Taoist with courtesy, receiving him as a mere sea traveler; in Xu Shi's case, he mocked the Taoist and showed him scant respect.
The Taoist priest had long premeditated the punishment for the two men and devised a meticulous distinction between them. The trick played on Scholar Han was that the lavish banquet at night was but an illusion; upon waking, he found himself lying beneath the green stone steps, and the beauty he had embraced was merely a long stone. As for Scholar Xu, his fate was even more wretched: the bed inlaid with mother-of-pearl where he had lain turned out to be a dilapidated latrine, and the lovely woman he had openly embraced was nothing more than a stone stained with excrement.