Original Text
Le Yunhe and Xia Pingzi lived in the same village as children and studied at the same school as youths, becoming the closest of friends. Xia Pingzi was exceptionally intelligent from a young age, gaining some renown by the time he was ten. Le Yunhe humbly learned from him, and Xia Pingzi taught him tirelessly, so Le Yunhe's literary talent improved daily, and soon the two were equally famous. Despite this, both were unfortunate in the imperial examinations, failing each time they took them. Before long, Xia Pingzi fell ill with a plague and died, leaving his family too poor to bury him. Le Yunhe stepped forward and took responsibility for his friend's burial. He also regularly provided for Xia Pingzi's infant child and widow, dividing any grain he received equally between the two households. The widow and orphan survived solely on his support. As a result, scholars esteemed Le Yunhe even more for his virtue and righteousness. Le Yunhe had little property, and with the added burden of supporting Xia Pingzi's family, his own livelihood grew increasingly difficult. He sighed and said, "A man of such brilliant talent as Pingzi died without achieving anything; how much more so for a mediocre person like me! In life, one should seize pleasure in time. To live year after year in such misery, I fear I will die in a ditch before I can serve my country and achieve fame, truly wasting my life. It is better to find another way early on." So he abandoned the imperial examinations and turned to trade. After half a year of business, his family's wealth reached a modest level of comfort.
One day, Le Yunhe was lodging in Jinling as a traveler, resting at an inn. He saw a man of towering stature, with prominent bones and a haggard expression, pacing sorrowfully back and forth near him. Le Yunhe asked him, "Do you wish to eat something?" The man did not reply. Le Yunhe pushed some food before him to eat, and the man grabbed it with his hands, devouring it all in an instant. Le Yunhe bought another meal meant for two, and the man consumed it entirely as well. Le Yunhe then had the innkeeper cut a large piece of pork shoulder and piled a table full of steamed cakes for the man, who ate enough to satisfy several people before finally filling his belly. He clasped his hands in thanks to Le Yunhe and said, "In three years, I have never eaten my fill as I have today." Le Yunhe said, "You must surely be a stalwart fellow; how have you fallen into such dire poverty?" The man replied, "I have offended Heaven and been punished, and I cannot speak of it." Le Yunhe asked where he lived, and the man said, "I have no house on land, no boat on water; at dawn I am in the village, at dusk in the city, with no fixed abode." Le Yunhe packed his luggage to depart, and the man followed him, reluctant to leave, lingering with attachment. Le Yunhe bid him farewell, but he said, "A great calamity is about to befall you; I cannot bear to forget the kindness of a single meal." Le Yunhe found this strange and agreed to take him along. On the road, Le Yunhe again offered the man food, but he declined, saying, "No need; I only eat a few meals a year, and that suffices." Le Yunhe grew even more astonished.
The next day, as Le Yunhe was crossing the river with his cargo, a sudden gale arose, churning the river into towering waves, and soon the merchant vessel capsized, casting Le Yunhe and that man into the water. After a while, the wind subsided, and the man, carrying Le Yunhe on his back, stepped upon the waves and emerged from the water, boarding a passenger boat. He set Le Yunhe down on the boat, then leaped back into the water; shortly thereafter, he dragged another boat from the river, helped Le Yunhe aboard it, and instructed him to lie still without moving. The man then plunged into the river again, emerged with his arms clutching the cargo, tossed it into Le Yunhe's boat, and dove back under. He made several such trips back and forth until the boat was fully laden with goods. Le Yunhe, deeply grateful, said, "It is enough that you saved my life; how dare I hope for the recovery of my lost goods!" When he inspected the cargo, he found not a single item missing. Le Yunhe admired the man even more, marveling and thinking he had encountered a divine being. As he was about to cast off the mooring rope and set sail, the man took his leave, but Le Yunhe refused, earnestly urging him to stay, and so the man remained to cross the river with him. Le Yunhe laughed and said, "After this ordeal, I have lost only a single gold hairpin—truly a stroke of fortune." Upon hearing this, the man immediately prepared to dive into the river to search for it. Le Yunhe hastily tried to stop him, but the man had already vanished beneath the waves. Le Yunhe stood stunned for a long time, when suddenly he saw the man emerge from the water with a beaming smile, handing the gold hairpin to Le Yunhe, saying, "Fortunately, I did not fail your expectations." All who witnessed this on the river were astonished beyond measure.
Le Yunhe and that man returned to his hometown, spending days and nights together. The man ate only once every ten or so days, yet each meal consumed an incalculable amount of food. One day, the man again took his leave, but Le Yunhe earnestly urged him to stay. Though it was daytime, the sky was shrouded in dark clouds, as if rain were imminent, and distant peals of thunder could be heard. Le Yunhe said, "I wonder what it is like within the clouds? And what exactly is thunder? If only I could ascend to the heavens and see for myself, this doubt would be resolved." The man smiled and replied, "Do you wish to roam among the clouds?" Before long, Le Yunhe felt exceedingly drowsy and dozed off on the bed. When he awoke, he felt his body swaying, as if not lying on a bed. Opening his eyes, he found himself amidst clouds and mist, with fluffy clouds swirling around him like cotton. Startled, he rose, feeling dizzy, as if aboard a boat. He stomped his feet downward, but they met only softness, as if touching nothing solid. Looking up, he saw the stars filling the sky right before his eyes, and he could not help but wonder if he was dreaming. Gazing closely, the stars seemed embedded in the heavens, like lotus seeds in a pod—the large ones as big as vats, the medium ones like smaller jars, and the smallest like wine cups or rice bowls. Le Yunhe reached out to shake them; the large stars remained unmoved, but the small ones could be stirred, as if pluckable. So he picked one small star and hid it in his sleeve. Parting the clouds to look below, he saw a boundless silver sea of mist, with earthly cities and walls no larger than beans. His heart trembled with fear, thinking that if he slipped and fell, his body would be lost beyond recovery. Soon, he saw two dragons, flexing and stretching gracefully, driving a canopied carriage from afar. Their tails whipped like ox-hide lashes with a crisp crack. The carriage bore vessels several spans in circumference, all filled with water. Dozens of men were scooping water with implements and sprinkling it across the clouds. They suddenly noticed Le Yunhe and were greatly astonished. Among them, Le Yunhe saw the stalwart man he had once rescued, who said to the others, "He is my friend." The man then took a vessel and handed it to Le Yunhe, bidding him to join them in sprinkling water. At that time, the earth was suffering from drought. Le Yunhe took the vessel, parted the clouds, and poured water generously toward the direction of his hometown. Soon, the man approached and said, "I am originally a Thunder God. Once, due to a mistake in my duties, I delayed the rain and was banished to the mortal world for three years. Today, my term is fulfilled, so let us part here." With that, the Thunder God threw a rope, ten thousand feet long, before Le Yunhe, telling him to grasp its end and descend. Le Yunhe was terrified and dared not take it, but the god laughed and said, "Fear not." Following his instructions, Le Yunhe clutched the rope and let himself fall. He heard only the whistling wind past his ears, and in an instant, he landed on the ground. Looking around, he found himself just outside his village. The rope was slowly drawn back into the clouds and soon vanished. At that time, due to the prolonged drought, only an inch or so of rain had fallen within ten li, but Le Yunhe's village was especially blessed, with rainwater filling the ditches to overflowing.
Le Yunhe returned home and, reaching into his sleeve, found that the star he had plucked was still there. He took it out and placed it on the table to examine it; it was pitch-black, like a stone, but at night, the star emitted a radiance that illuminated the surrounding walls as bright as snow. Le Yunhe treasured this marvel greatly, wrapping it in layers and storing it away. Only when noble and refined guests visited did he bring it out, letting it shine within the chamber to enliven the drinkers. When people gazed directly at the star, they felt its beams piercing their eyes, making them unable to keep them open. One night, as Le Yunhe's wife was washing her hair facing the star, she suddenly noticed its light growing smaller and smaller, until it finally fluttered about the room like a firefly. Startled, she saw the star fly into her mouth; she tried to spit it out but could not, and it slipped down into her stomach. Terrified, she rushed to tell Le Yunhe, who was also astonished, unable to fathom what had happened. That night, after Le Yunhe fell asleep, he dreamed that Xia Pingzi came to him and said, "I am the Star of Minor Light in the heavens. Your kindness to me I will forever hold in my heart, never forgetting. Later, I was brought down from the sky to the mortal world by you, showing that our bond is not yet severed. Today, I shall be reborn as your son to repay your great benevolence." Le Yunhe was already thirty years old and had no son, so this dream filled him with great joy. From then on, his wife indeed became pregnant. When the time of childbirth came, the entire room was bathed in a dazzling light, just as when the star had rested on the table, and thus Le Yunhe named the child Xing'er, or Star Child. As Xing'er grew up, he proved exceedingly alert and surpassingly intelligent, and at just sixteen years of age, he passed the imperial examinations and became a jinshi.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: Le Yunhe, renowned throughout the world for his mastery of literary composition, suddenly felt that Heaven had ordained his place elsewhere, and so he cast off the life of study and writing as one would discard an old shoe—how different was this from Ban Chao's casting aside his brush to join the army? As for the Thunder God repaying the kindness of a single meal, and Xia Pingzi requiting the friendship of his companion, could it be that gods and men were merely repaying private favors? In truth, it was the Creator justly rewarding the virtuous and the extraordinary.
Commentary
According to the "Pu Family Genealogy" compiled by Pu Songling, his father Pu Pan "studied diligently in his youth but suffered from poverty. He pursued the path of the scholar for over twenty years without success, so he abandoned it and turned to commerce. Within a few years, he was known in the countryside as a man of wealth without official rank." Pu Songling himself also spent many years "failing in the examinations, always defeated in battle," and his impoverished life as a teacher undoubtedly caused him great distress. In this tale, Le Yunhe "abandoned his studies to engage in trade," clearly reflecting Pu Songling's own complex emotions. Thus, in the "Historian's Commentary," he praises Le Yunhe's decision, saying, "How is this any different from those who cast aside the brush to seek military glory?"
However, what the author has condensed in his heart and lingered in his mind within the work may not necessarily be what moves readers or captures their interest. What modern readers likely appreciate in this tale is the passage describing Le Yunhe's "journey through the clouds" and his observations and sensations. This passage is not only one of the most romantic, beautiful, and imaginative pieces in "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio," but also one of the most expressive writings on celestial constellations in ancient Chinese literature. Ancient people had no experience of spaceflight; Pu Songling relied entirely on imagination, using familiar objects from daily life as metaphors and similes, to write that Le Yunhe "awoke and felt his body swaying, not as if on a bed; opening his eyes, he found himself amidst clouds, his whole body as if wrapped in fluff. Startled, he rose, dizzy as if on a boat; stepping down, it was soft with no ground beneath. Looking up, the stars seemed right between his brows. He then suspected it was a dream. Gazing closely, the stars were embedded in the sky like old lotus seeds in their pods; the large ones were as big as urns, the next as large as jars, and the small ones like cups and bowls. He reached out to shake them; the large ones were firm and immovable, while the small ones trembled, as if they could be plucked down. So he plucked one and hid it in his sleeve. Parting the clouds to look below, he saw a vast silver sea, and cities and walls as small as beans." In about a hundred words, the metaphors used are vivid and lifelike, offering readers an intuitive impression and sensation that seems no less than watching a modern digital sci-fi film!