Original Text
During the Xuande reign of the Ming dynasty, cricket fighting became a popular pastime in the imperial palace, and each year crickets were levied from the people. This creature was not originally a specialty of Shaanxi, but a magistrate of Huayin County, seeking to curry favor with his superiors, presented a cricket that proved formidable in a trial fight. Consequently, the court ordered Huayin County to pay an annual tribute of crickets. The magistrate then delegated this task to the village heads. Idle rogues in the marketplaces would capture fine crickets, keep them in bamboo cages, and inflate their prices, treating them as rare commodities to be sold at a premium. The cunning and corrupt village clerks exploited this pretext to impose levies per capita, and for every cricket demanded, several families were driven to ruin.
In the county there was a man named Cheng Ming, a licentiate who had failed for many years to pass the higher examinations. He was pedantic and clumsy in speech, so a cunning clerk reported him to serve as village head, a duty he could not escape despite all his efforts, and within a year his modest property was entirely exhausted. Just then came the levy for crickets, and Cheng Ming dared not apportion the burden among the households, yet he could not make up the loss himself, his heart so filled with anguish that he wished only for death. His wife said, "What use is dying? Better to go and search for yourself; perhaps there is still a glimmer of hope." Cheng Ming thought her words reasonable. He went out at dawn and returned at dusk, carrying a bamboo tube and a copper-wire cage, turning over stones and digging into holes among crumbling walls and overgrown thickets, sparing no effort, yet always finding nothing. Even if he caught two or three, they were poor, weak, and unfit for the required standard. The magistrate set strict deadlines, urging and beating him in pursuit, and within ten days he had suffered a hundred strokes, his thighs festering with pus and blood, so that he could no longer hunt for crickets. Tossing and turning on his bed, Cheng Ming could think only of suicide.
At that time, a hunchbacked witch had come to the village, who could divine fortune and misfortune through the spirits. Cheng Ming's wife prepared some money and went to consult her, only to find the doorway crowded with young women in red makeup and white-haired old ladies. Entering the room, there was a private chamber with a cloth curtain, and before the curtain stood an incense altar. Those seeking divination lit incense in the burner and bowed twice. The witch beside them prayed to heaven on their behalf, muttering incantations under her breath, though none could tell what she said. Everyone stood respectfully in silence, listening. Before long, a piece of paper was thrown out from behind the curtain, on which was written exactly what the inquirer wished to know, without the slightest error. Cheng Ming's wife placed her money on the altar and, like those before her, burned incense and performed the bows. After the time it takes for a meal, the curtain stirred, and a paper was cast to the ground. She picked it up and saw it was not writing but a painting: in the center were depicted halls and pavilions, resembling a temple; behind, beneath a small hill, were all manner of strange rocks, with thorny brambles sprouting sharp spikes, and below them crouched a green-headed cricket; beside it was a toad, as if about to leap. She pondered it repeatedly, unable to fathom its meaning, yet seeing the cricket in the painting, she felt it secretly touched upon her heart's concern. So she folded the painting, put it away, and brought it home to show Cheng Ming.
Cheng Ming pondered over this repeatedly, wondering if it was indicating the location to catch a cricket. Examining the scenery closely, it bore a striking resemblance to the Great Buddha Pavilion east of the village. So he forced himself to rise, leaning on his staff and carrying the painting, he made his way to the rear of the temple. There, ancient tombs rose high and dense, and as he walked along the burial grounds, he saw jagged stones crouching like fish scales, exactly matching the painting. He then listened intently among the weeds, moving slowly and cautiously, as if searching for a needle or a mustard seed. Yet, exhausting all his mental, visual, and auditory efforts, he neither saw the shadow of a cricket nor heard its chirping. Still, Cheng Ming persisted in his search without cease, when suddenly a toad leaped away with a start. Startled even more, he hurried in pursuit. The toad then jumped into the grass, and he fixed his gaze on its trail, parting the weeds to search, and there he saw a cricket crouching at the root of a blade of grass. He swiftly moved to catch it, but the cricket slipped into a crevice in the stone. Using a slender blade of grass, he tried to coax it out, but the cricket refused to emerge. He then poured water into the crevice with a bamboo tube, and only then did the cricket spring out. Its form was remarkably robust. He chased and caught it, and upon close inspection, he saw that the cricket was large in size, with a long double tail, a green neck, and golden wings. Overjoyed, he placed the cricket in a cage and brought it home. The entire family celebrated, rejoicing even more than if they had acquired a priceless jade. Cheng Ming kept the cricket in an earthen pot, feeding it white crab meat and yellow chestnuts, tending to it with utmost care, preparing to present it to the authorities when the deadline arrived.
Cheng Ming had a nine-year-old son, who, seeing his father absent, secretly opened the basin. The cricket leaped out of the basin so swiftly that it could not be caught. By the time he caught it in his hand, the cricket had already lost its hind leg and burst its belly, and soon died. The son, terrified, wept and told his mother. Upon hearing this, the mother's face turned ashen, and she cursed loudly, "You wretch! Your hour of death has come! When your father returns, he will settle accounts with you!" The son, streaming tears, went out the door. Shortly after, Cheng Ming returned home, and upon hearing his wife's account, felt as if ice and snow had soaked through his entire body. In a fury, he went to seek his son, but the son was nowhere to be found. Later, he discovered his son's body in the well, whereupon his anger turned to grief; he wailed to heaven and beat the earth, nearly fainting from sorrow. The couple wept facing the corner, with no heart to prepare a meal, sitting silently face to face, bereft of all hope. As dusk approached, Cheng Ming intended to hastily bury his son. But when he drew near and touched him, the son still had a faint breath. Overjoyed, he placed the boy on the bed, and by midnight, the son revived, bringing some comfort to the couple's hearts. Yet the cricket cage remained empty; whenever he glanced at it, Cheng Ming could neither breathe nor speak, but he dared not reproach his son further. From dusk till dawn, he never closed his eyes.
The sun rose from the east, but Chengming still lay dully on his bed, consumed with worry. Suddenly, he heard a cricket chirping outside the door; startled, he quickly rose to investigate, and there he saw the cricket as if still crouching there. Overjoyed, he went to catch it. The cricket chirped once and leaped away, moving with great speed. He tried to cover it with his palm, but it felt as though there was nothing beneath; yet as soon as he lifted his hand, the cricket swiftly sprang away again. He gave chase in haste, but as he turned the corner of the wall, it vanished without a trace. Chengming paced back and forth, gazing all around, and spotted the cricket clinging to the wall. Upon closer inspection, it was small in form, black with a hint of red, and nothing like the original cricket. He disdained it for its small size, thinking it unworthy, and merely wandered about, looking here and there for the cricket he had been pursuing. Just then, the small cricket on the wall suddenly leaped onto the lapel of his robe. Looking at it, he saw it was shaped like a mole cricket, with plum-petal wings, a square head, and long legs; it seemed rather fine, so he happily caught it and placed it in a cage. When he was about to present the cricket to the authorities, Chengming grew anxious, fearing it might not meet their approval, and thought to test it in a fight to see how it would fare.
Just then, there happened to be a meddlesome young man in the village who had raised a cricket, which he himself had named "Crab-Shell Green." Every day he would pit it against other crickets in fights, and it always emerged victorious. He hoped to make a fortune from this cricket, but his asking price was so high that no one would buy it. He went directly to Cheng Ming's house, and upon seeing the small cricket Cheng Ming had raised, he covered his mouth and burst into silent laughter. He then brought out his own cricket and placed it in the fighting cage. When Cheng Ming saw it, he noted that the cricket was both long and large in form, and naturally felt even more ashamed, not daring to compete. The young man insisted on a match. Cheng Ming thought to himself that keeping such an inferior creature was ultimately useless, so he might as well take a gamble and seek a moment's amusement; thus, he tipped his cricket into the fighting basin. The small cricket crouched motionless, as still as a wooden chicken. The young man laughed heartily again. He used a bristle to tease the small cricket's antennae, but it still did not move. The young man laughed once more. After repeated provocations, the small cricket was roused to great anger and charged straight forward, whereupon the two crickets leaped and battled each other, fluttering their wings and chirping loudly. After a while, the small cricket was seen to spring up, spread its tail, and extend its antennae, directly biting at Crab-Shell Green's neck. The young man was greatly startled and hastily separated the two, stopping their fight. At that moment, the small cricket spread its wings and chirped proudly, as if announcing its victory to its master. Cheng Ming was overjoyed. As the two were admiring the small cricket, a rooster suddenly ran over and pecked at it. Cheng Ming was so frightened that he stood there shouting. Fortunately, the rooster missed its mark, and the small cricket leaped more than a foot away. The rooster strode forward, giving close chase, and it seemed the small cricket was about to fall under its claws. In his panic, Cheng Ming did not know how to save it; he stamped his feet in desperation, his face turning pale. Soon, he saw the rooster stretch out its neck and flap wildly; upon closer inspection, it turned out that the small cricket had landed on the rooster's comb and was biting down fiercely, refusing to let go. Cheng Ming was even more astonished and delighted, so he caught the cricket and placed it back in its bamboo cage.
The next day, Cheng Ming presented the small cricket to the county magistrate, who, displeased by its size, angrily berated him. Cheng Ming recounted the cricket's extraordinary abilities, but the magistrate refused to believe him. He ordered it to fight other crickets, and each one was utterly defeated; then he tried it against a rooster, and indeed it proved as Cheng Ming had said. Thereupon the magistrate rewarded Cheng Ming and presented the cricket to the provincial governor. The governor, overjoyed, placed the cricket in a golden wire cage and offered it to the emperor, along with a memorial detailing its prowess. Once in the palace, the cricket was pitted against all the finest crickets from across the realm—Butterfly, Mantis, Oily Stinger, Green-Silked Forehead—and none could match it. Whenever it heard the sound of zithers and lutes, it would dance in time to the music, earning even greater admiration. The emperor, delighted, praised it lavishly and issued an edict bestowing fine horses and brocades upon the governor. The governor, not forgetting his origins, soon had the magistrate rated as "preeminent in virtuous governance" in the official assessments. The magistrate, naturally pleased, relieved Cheng Ming of his duties as village head and instructed the academic commissioner to enroll Cheng Ming in the county school. After a little more than a year, Cheng Ming's son recovered his spirit, claiming that he had transformed into the cricket—nimble, swift, and skilled in combat—and had only now awakened. The governor also richly rewarded Cheng Ming. Within a few years, the Cheng family possessed a hundred acres of fertile fields, a thousand rooms in grand mansions, two hundred head each of cattle and sheep, and whenever they went abroad, they wore light furs and rode sleek horses, outshining even the most illustrious noble houses.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: When the Son of Heaven happens to use an object, it may not necessarily be remembered afterward, yet the officials who present it establish it as a fixed tribute. Coupled with the greed and cruelty of petty magistrates, the common people are forced daily to pawn their wives and sell their children, with no end to their suffering. Thus, every action of the emperor concerns the life and death of the people and must never be taken lightly. Only Cheng Ming, impoverished by the extortion of corrupt clerks and enriched by presenting the cricket, now rides in light furs and fat horses, exulting in triumph. When he served as village head and suffered beatings, how could he have imagined such a day would come? Heaven intended to reward the honest and simple-hearted, and thus even the provincial governor and county magistrate were blessed through the cricket. It is said: When one man attains immortality and ascends to heaven, even his chickens and dogs become immortals. Truly, this is so!
Commentary
This is a novel with quite strong political overtones, revealing the pain of broken families and ruined lives brought to the common people by "the emperor's occasional use of a single item" in an authoritarian era, and the farce of "immortals and their chickens and dogs" that it brings to bureaucrats at all levels. The pen also incidentally satirizes the long-standing abuses of the "village head reporting system" and the corruption of the imperial examinations at that time.
Wang Yuyang of the Qing Dynasty raised an objection to the story being set in the Xuande era of the Ming Dynasty, saying: "The Xuande reign was a time of good governance, with Emperor Xuanzong as a wise ruler, and his grand ministers at court being the venerable gentlemen Yang, Jian, Xia, and others. How could it be that such trivial creatures as grass insects brought calamity to the people to this extent? Alas! Or perhaps the tale was distorted in transmission?" The critic Dan Minglun rightly refuted this, arguing that "one should only discuss the matter itself, without necessarily seeking to determine its era." In truth, in a democratic age, whether a president or a prime minister, 'occasionally using an item' may set a fashionable trend, but it would never become a criterion for evaluating bureaucratic performance, for the people would use their votes to judge officials' promotions and appointments. Yet in an age of authoritarian rule, the standards and outcomes of bureaucratic performance evaluation are all held in the hands of those above; 'if the superior is pleased, then one is a good official.' To please the superior, all manner of bizarre and outlandish things can occur, and it is no wonder that a tiny cricket could give rise to countless tragedies and comedies.
The tale is written with extraordinary twists and vividness, especially in its depiction of the cricket's form, the process of capturing it, and its fierce battles, which are so lifelike and gripping that they seize the reader's heart. Wang Jinfan, a commentator on Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, praised it, saying, "To depict such a small creature with such wondrous detail is the true descendant of the 'Artificers' Record.'"