Original Text
I once heard from Grandfather Li Jingyi the following tale: It is said that a man in Shenyang held a banquet atop a mountain peak. As he looked down from the summit, he saw a tiger approaching from afar with something in its mouth. The tiger dug a hole in the ground with its claws, buried the object within, covered the hole, and departed. The man then sent someone down to see what the tiger had buried, and it turned out to be a dead deer. He had the deer removed and the hole loosely covered again. After a while, the tiger returned, leading a black beast with fur several inches long. The tiger walked ahead, as if inviting an honored guest. Upon reaching the hole, the black beast crouched to one side, fixing the tiger with a fierce glare. The tiger thrust its paw into the hole, found the deer missing, and then lay trembling on the ground, not daring to move. Enraged at being deceived, the black beast struck the tiger's forehead with its paw, killing it instantly, and then strode away on its own.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: This black beast is unknown by name, yet from the description of its form, it is by no means larger than a tiger—why then does the tiger stretch out its neck and await death, fearing it so greatly? All creatures under heaven are subject to the restraint of some other force, a principle truly difficult to fathom. For instance, the macaque is most terrified of the rong monkey; when it spies a rong from afar, a hundred or a thousand macaques will instantly kneel in a huddled mass, none daring to flee. The macaques fix their gaze unblinkingly upon the rong, awaiting its approach, while the rong, with its hand, pinches each macaque in turn to gauge its fatness or leanness; if it finds one plump, it places a stone chip upon its head as a mark. The macaque then crouches with the stone atop its head, frozen in terror like a wooden chicken, fearing only that the stone might inadvertently fall. After the rong has finished its pinching and marking, it proceeds to devour the plump macaques in the order of the stones, whereupon the remaining macaques scatter in a panic. I have often said that corrupt officials and greedy magistrates are like the rong monkey—they likewise mark the people according to their wealth or poverty, then devour them according to those marks; and the common folk, with heads bowed and ears compliant, submit to being slaughtered and eaten, not daring even to draw a deep breath, their foolish and ignorant demeanor exactly like that of the macaques. How truly lamentable this is!
Commentary
This is a fable about a black beast that, though smaller than a tiger, is incredibly feared by the tiger. The key focus of this piece lies in the additional story appended in the "Commentary by the Historian of the Strange," which tells of how the monkey most fears the rong. It conveys Pu Songling's lament over the common people, feeling sorrow for their misfortune yet anger at their lack of resistance.
Regarding this same viewpoint and story, Pu Songling repeatedly expressed it in his prose piece "Supplementary Remarks on the Practice of Cultivation in Officialdom": "In the great mountains of the southwest, there exists a creature called the rong, which is skilled at eating macaques. When the macaques see it, they all climb up into the trees. The rong arrives and lets out a sharp cry; upon hearing this sound, the macaques, as if ripe fruit struck by a fierce wind, fall to the ground in droves, trembling, kneeling with bated breath, none daring to flee. The rong then selects the largest among them, places a tile upon its head to mark it, and after marking it, uses its claws to feel and choose the fattest to seize and devour. The clever ones take the opportunity to discard the tile, and when the rong feels again, it passes them by. Occasionally, when this is mentioned, no one is not astonished. I say, why should this be surprising? The human world is certainly not lacking in such creatures. Do you not see that in the cities and government offices, there is one rong above and a host of rong following it? Whenever a corvée is levied or a lawsuit arises, there are countless covetous ones, drooling and howling, then they mark the head, then they feel the bones, then they greedily gnaw the flesh. If the victim is timid, they intimidate him; if strong, they shackle and torment him; if generous, they sweetly entice him; if stingy, they press and afflict him. Moreover, great crimes may be allowed to slip through the net, while minor offenses can be magnified into heaven-storming disasters; severe punishments may leave no harm, while light penalties can bring about death. The ignorant common folk, therefore, dare not refrain from selling their children and mortgaging their wives to fill bottomless vessels—how unjust this is!" All of this shows how, in his judicial practice, Pu Songling sympathized with the helpless and weak common people and emphasized the viewpoint of resistance and struggle.