Original Text
Taoist Han resided in the Tianqi Temple within the county town, and because he was skilled in the art of illusion, people called him the "Immortal." My late father was on the most cordial terms with him, and whenever he entered the city, he would always call upon him. One day, my father and my late uncle went into town, intending to visit Taoist Han, and happened to meet him on the way. Taoist Han handed my father a key, saying, "Go ahead and open the door, enter the room, and wait for me; I will follow shortly." My father did as he was told, entered the temple, unlocked the door with the key, and saw Taoist Han already seated inside. There were many such strange occurrences involving Taoist Han.
Prior to this, there was a clansman who was addicted to gambling and had come to know the Daoist Han through his father. At that time, a monk had arrived at the Great Buddha Temple, skilled in the method of gambling by casting dice to determine victory or defeat, and he wagered stakes that were exceptionally high. The clansman, upon seeing such lavish gambling, was greatly delighted and took all the money from his household to compete with him, only to lose it all. The more he lost, the more anxious he became, and he pawned his fields and property to gamble again, losing everything in a single night, leaving him utterly destitute. From then on, he was perpetually dejected and melancholy, and went to seek out the Daoist Han, appearing utterly distraught and speaking incoherently. The Daoist Han asked him what had happened, and the clansman recounted the entire affair of his gambling. The Daoist Han smiled and said, "Those who gamble frequently are bound to lose. If you can swear off gambling, I will help you win back what you have lost." The clansman replied, "If only my gambling funds could be recovered like the pearls of Hepu returning to their owner, I would smash the dice to pieces with an iron pestle!" Thereupon, the Daoist Han wrote a talisman on a piece of paper, handed it to the clansman, and instructed him to wear it in his sash. He also cautioned him, saying, "Stop as soon as you have recovered your original losses; do not covet more and become insatiable." Having said this, the Daoist Han gave him a thousand copper coins, with the agreement that he would return them after winning.
The clansman, overjoyed, went to gamble again. When the monk saw his thousand copper coins, he regarded them with great disdain and was unwilling to gamble with him. The clansman insisted, dragging him into the game, demanding a single throw to decide the outcome, and the monk smilingly agreed. Thus, the clansman staked the thousand copper coins as a desperate all-or-nothing wager. The monk threw first but showed no clear result; the clansman took the dice, cast them, and achieved a winning combination, triumphing greatly. The monk then put down two thousand coins as a stake and lost again. Gradually, the monk increased his bets to over ten thousand coins, and though he clearly saw the highest winning throw, the clansman's shout would turn it into a lesser winning throw or an even lower one. In this way, the clansman quickly recouped all the money he had previously lost. He secretly thought it would be even better to win a few more thousand, so he continued gambling, but now every throw yielded only mediocre results, and his luck began to wane. Puzzled, the clansman rose to check the talisman in his belt, only to find it had vanished without a trace. Greatly alarmed, he hastily stopped. Carrying his winnings back to the temple, after repaying the thousand coins to Taoist Han, he carefully calculated the gains and losses and found that the total exactly matched the amount he had originally lost. Then, ashamed, he begged Taoist Han to forgive him for losing the talisman. Taoist Han smiled and said, "The talisman has long since returned to me. I repeatedly warned you not to be greedy, but you would not listen, so I took it back myself."
The Historian of the Strange remarks: Among all the causes that bring men to ruin their families and squander their fortunes, none is swifter than gambling; and in the decay of moral integrity, none sinks more rapidly or completely into depravity than the gambler. Those who are addicted to gambling are as if plunged into a sea of delusion, never knowing where the bottom lies. Merchants and farmers each have their proper occupations; scholars who study poetry and the classics should especially cherish their time. Shouldering a hoe or poring over the classics are the straight paths to establishing a household and a career; even gathering a few friends for refined conversation over cups of wine is a way to find joy in life. But gamblers band together with a pack of worthless companions, gathering all night without cease. They ransack chests and boxes, hanging their money on perilous heights as if suspended from the sky; or they cry out for "zhi" and "hu," begging the dice to show favor. They spin the dice like rolling pearls, or hold their cards like waving a round fan. Now they glance at others, now at themselves, their eyes darting as if to see through everything; outwardly they feign weakness while secretly striking hard, exhausting every trick and employing every demonic ruse. Even with guests waiting at the door, their hearts cling longingly to the gambling table; sometimes their houses catch fire and smoke rises, yet they still stare fixedly at the dice bowl. Thus they neglect sleep and forget food, sinking deeper over time, unable to extricate themselves; their tongues become parched and their lips cracked, and they look like living ghosts. When their entire stake is lost, they can only glare with reddened eyes at others gambling. Watching the uproar and excitement at the table, their hands itch with eagerness, but it is but a hero's vain fantasy; for when they check their money pouch, it is utterly empty, leaving the bold spirits of the gambling arena disheartened. So they stretch their necks and pace about the gambling den, feeling their empty hands useless; finally, they hang their heads in dejection, full of sorrow, and return home late at night. If by chance their reproachful wife has already gone to sleep, they fear even to disturb the dog's barking; only then do they feel the gnawing hunger of an empty belly, and when they take up the bowl, they dare not complain about the leftover scraps. Next, they will sell their sons and pawn their fields, hoping to recover their losses; but this throw is like a great fire that burns off their hair and beard, ending in nothing but grasping at the moon in the river. Only after such a crushing defeat do they begin to reflect, but by then they have already fallen into the abyss; ask among gamblers who is the most skilled, and everyone will point to the wretch who has lost even his trousers. Some, driven by hunger, turn to banditry; others scratch their heads in desperation, hoping only to pawn their women's jewelry to survive. Alas! The decay of virtue, the loss of integrity, the ruin of families, the destruction of reputation and life—what of these is not caused by the vile habit of gambling?
Commentary
The purpose of this chapter is made very clear in the words of the Historian of the Strange: 'In all the world, nothing ruins a family faster than gambling; and in all the world, nothing corrupts virtue more than gambling.' Among the tales concerning the prohibition of gambling, Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio also includes the chapters 'Ren Xiu' and 'Wang Da' in Volume Eleven.
However, the protagonist of this tale in its original form was not the Taoist Han, but rather Pu Shiguang, the great-uncle of Pu Songling's late father. The monk Ying did not rely on "writing talismans on paper" but on his superb gambling skills. According to Pu Songling's annotation in the "Pu Family Genealogy," the original story went as follows: "In his youth, the gentleman was exceptionally intelligent, unmatched in talent among his contemporaries. When playing the game of tossing six coins to form patterns, he would often sit in the hall and have maids pick up and supply the coins. The six coins never strayed beyond the boundary of a single brick, and he always achieved four heads without fail, thus mastering a unique skill. Later, a clansman named Jie, who was fond of gambling, suffered a great defeat at the hands of a monk lodging at Longxing Temple, losing all his fields and houses as collateral. In dire straits, he sought help from the gentleman. The gentleman generously took money and went, and in a short while, he recovered everything that had been lost. As he packed up to return, the monk insisted on detaining him. The gentleman smiled and said, 'To tell you the truth: your skill only allows you to achieve three heads, while I can achieve four, which is why I win. Emptying your purse would not be difficult, but I am no gambler; I merely sought revenge for my clansman.' The monk was even more astonished and begged to learn his technique. The gentleman replied, 'I cannot help an evildoer in his misdeeds.' Then he returned."