Original Text
A servant of Han Daqian, a steward in the Court of Imperial Entertainments, was sleeping one night in the corridor of the residence when he saw a light in the upper story, shimmering like a bright star. Before long, the light flickered and drifted down from the building, and upon touching the ground, it transformed into a dog. The servant stole a sidelong glance, and the dog turned and ran to the rear of the house. He quickly rose from his bed and stealthily followed it. The dog entered the garden and then changed into a woman. Knowing in his heart that she was a fox spirit, he quietly returned to his room and lay down again. After a while, the woman also followed him from behind; he feigned sleep, secretly observing her movements. She leaned over him and shook him vigorously, and he pretended to be startled awake, asking who she was, but she gave no answer. He then said, "Was not the light in the upper story you?" The woman replied, "Since you already know, why ask further?" Thereupon, they shared the same pillow and bed, indulging in the utmost pleasures of love, and from that night onward, they parted by day and met by night, until it became a regular custom.
Master Han Daqian eventually learned of this affair and ordered two servants to sleep with him, sandwiching him between them. In the morning, the two servants awoke to find themselves lying on the floor, unaware of when they had fallen from the bed. The master, even more incensed, said to the servants, "When that woman comes again, you must capture her and bring her to me. Otherwise, you will be flogged." The servants dared not argue and could only agree as they withdrew. They thought to themselves: capturing her would be difficult, but failing to do so would surely bring punishment and beating. As they tossed and turned, racking their brains in utter helplessness, they suddenly recalled that the woman always wore a small red jacket close to her body, never removing it—this must be her vital point, and seizing it would allow them to coerce her into submission. When night fell, the woman arrived and asked, "Did your master order you to capture me?" The servant replied, "That is so, but with the deep affection between us, how could I ever do such a thing?" When it came time to sleep, the servant attempted to stealthily strip away the woman's small red jacket. In her desperation, the woman burst into tears, wrenched herself free, and fled, never to return again.
Later, this servant returned from another place and saw the woman sitting by the roadside from afar. When the servant approached her, she covered her face with her sleeve. The servant dismounted and said loudly, "Why are you putting on such an act?" The woman then stood up, took his hand, and said, "I thought you had long forgotten our former intimacy. Now it seems you have not forgotten the old affection, and your past actions can still be forgiven. I know you were yielding to your master's pressure and had no choice, so I no longer blame you. Our bond is clearly at an end, and today I have specially prepared a modest feast for you; please join me as a farewell." At that time it was early autumn, and the sorghum in the fields was growing very lush. The woman took his hand and led him into the sorghum field, where the servant soon saw a large mansion. He tied his horse and entered the courtyard, where the feast in the hall was already laid out. They had just sat down when a group of maidservants came to serve dishes and pour wine. As the sun was about to set, the servant, having matters to report to his master, took his leave of the woman. When he went out, the mansion, maidservants, and feast had all vanished, leaving only the clearly demarcated ridges of the sorghum field.
Commentary
The title of this chapter is quite unusual, for in terms of its content, it is not a modifier-noun compound but rather a coordinate compound word.
Han Daqian's servant harbored no genuine affection for the fox maiden, thus the tale lacked any moving power, being merely an ordinary ghost and fox story.
"A New Account of the Tales of the World, in the chapter 'Grieving for the Departed,' says: 'The sage is beyond emotions, the lowest are beneath emotions, but it is precisely among us that emotions find their true abode.' What is meant by the lowest? It refers to those who are not of the refined class. In Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, the romantic, sorrowful, and deeply moving stories often involve scholars, while farmers, servants, and philistines are generally a class forgotten by the affections between men and women. Yet in this tale, when the fox maiden enters the scene, it is written with ethereal romance: 'There was a lamp in the upper floor, shining like a bright star. Before long, it flickered and drifted down, and upon reaching the ground, transformed into a dog. Peering at it, it turned and went behind the house. Rising hastily, he secretly followed it into the garden, where it changed into a woman.' This demonstrates Pu Songling's superb skill in narrating a story.