Original Text
In the Shuntian Prefecture there lived a scholar, whose family was impoverished, and just as a famine struck, he followed his father to Luoyang. The scholar was by nature dull-witted; at seventeen, he could not yet compose a complete eight-legged essay. Yet his appearance was handsome and refined, and he could crack elegant but not vulgar jokes, especially excelling at writing letters—those who met him did not know that his mind was empty of learning. Soon, his parents passed away one after another, leaving him utterly alone, and he made a living by teaching children in the village of Luorui. At that time, there was an orphan girl in the village named Yan, a descendant of a renowned scholar. From childhood she was exceptionally intelligent; while her father was alive, he taught her to read, and she never forgot anything after a single perusal. By the time she was ten, she would recite poetry in imitation of her father. Her father said, "Our family has a female scholar, but it is a pity she is not a son." He cherished her deeply and hoped to find her a good match. After her father died, her mother held the same wish, but for three years no suitable match appeared, and then she too passed away. Someone advised Yan to marry a learned man, and she was willing in her heart, but had not yet met the right one. It happened that a neighbor woman came over the wall to chat with her. The woman was carrying some embroidery thread wrapped in a piece of writing paper; when Yan opened it, she saw it was a letter written by the scholar to the woman's husband. After reading it over and over, Yan felt a fondness for the writer. The neighbor woman perceived her feelings and whispered, "This is a handsome young man, orphaned like you, and about your age. If you are willing, I will speak to my husband and arrange this good match." Yan's eyes were full of tender feeling, but she did not reply. The woman returned home and told her husband of her plan. The husband was already on good terms with the scholar, and when he mentioned the matter, the scholar was overjoyed. He took out a ring adorned with a golden crow, left by his mother, as a betrothal gift, and entrusted it to the woman's husband to give to Yan. They set a date and held the wedding; their married life was very harmonious and joyful. When Yan saw the scholar's essays, she laughed and said, "Your essays and your person seem like two different beings—at this rate, when will you ever achieve fame and success?" She urged him daily to study, strict as a good teacher and friend. When night fell, she would first trim the lamp and lean over the desk to recite alone, setting an example for her husband, and they would not rest until the third watch.
Thus passed more than a year, and the scholar's eight-legged essays had become quite fluent and accomplished. Yet twice he sat for the examinations, and twice he failed, his fortunes in the pursuit of official rank utterly thwarted, until even his daily meals became a problem. Recalling his repeated disappointments in the examination hall, the scholar was deeply distressed and could not help but weep bitterly. Lady Yan scolded him, saying, "You are truly no man of valor, and you disgrace the cap and gown of a gentleman! If I were to exchange my hairpin for a man's cap and seek high office and rich emolument, it would be as easy for me as picking up a blade of grass!" The scholar, already vexed and dejected, glared at her in anger upon hearing these words and retorted, "You are but a woman, who has never set foot in the examination hall, and you think that winning official rank is as simple as drawing water or boiling porridge in the kitchen. If you were to don a man's cap, I fear you would fare no better than I!" Lady Yan smiled and said, "Do not be angry. When the next examination comes, let me disguise myself as a man and take the test in your stead. If I too meet with failure and disappointment, then I shall no longer dare to look down upon the scholars of the world." The scholar laughed and replied, "You naturally do not know the bitterness of the cork tree; truly you ought to taste it. But I fear that our secret might be exposed, and we would become a laughingstock among our neighbors." Lady Yan said, "I am not jesting. You once mentioned that your ancestral home in Shuntian Prefecture has an old house. Let me disguise myself as a man and accompany you back there, pretending to be your younger brother. Since you left that place in your childhood, who could tell the difference between truth and falsehood?" The scholar agreed to her plan. Lady Yan went into the inner chamber, changed into men's attire, and emerged, saying, "Look at me—do I pass for a man?" The scholar gazed at her, and she appeared every inch a proud and self-assured young gentleman. Overjoyed, the scholar took leave of all his neighbors one by one. Those with whom he had close ties made gifts to him; he bought a scrawny donkey, loaded his wife upon it, and returned to his ancestral home.
The scholar's elder cousin was still alive, and upon seeing his two younger brothers as handsome as jade-adorned crowns, he was especially delighted, attending to them day and night. He also noticed that they rose early and worked late, diligently studying, which made him doubly fond and respectful. He then hired a young servant boy, not yet of age to bind his hair, to serve them. After nightfall, they would dismiss the boy. Whenever there were funerals or festive occasions in the village, the elder brother would handle the social engagements, while the younger brothers simply shut themselves in to study. After half a year, few in the village had seen the younger brothers. Some guests wished to meet them, but the elder brother would decline on their behalf. When people read the younger brothers' essays, they were stunned into silence. Some would push open the door and insist on meeting them, but the younger brothers would merely bow and then withdraw. Guests who glimpsed their bearing were all filled with admiration. From then on, their fame spread widely, and wealthy and noble families vied to have the younger brothers as sons-in-law. The elder cousin came to discuss the matter with them, but they only smiled. When he pressed them further, they said, "We have set our hearts on rising swiftly in the world; we will not marry until we have passed the metropolitan examination." Just then, the imperial examiner arrived for the prefectural exams, and the brothers went together to take them. The elder brother failed once more, while the younger brother, having come first in the prefectural exam, entered the provincial examination and placed fourth in the Shuntian provincial list. The following year, he passed the metropolitan examination and was appointed magistrate of Tongcheng County, where his official reputation soared. Soon after, he was promoted to the post of Censor-in-Chief of Henan Circuit, and his wealth rivaled that of princes and marquises. Then, pleading illness, he requested to resign from office, and the emperor granted him permission to return to his native village. Those who came seeking an audience or wishing to become his retainers crowded his gate, but he always refused to receive them. From the time he was a scholar until he became a high official, he never spoke of taking a wife, which puzzled everyone. After returning to his village, he gradually purchased maidservants. Some suspected he had improper relations with them, but his sister-in-law observed him and found no evidence of misconduct.
Soon after, the Ming dynasty fell and chaos engulfed the realm. It was then that Lady Yan said to her sister-in-law, "To tell you the truth, I am the wife of your younger brother. Because my husband was incompetent and could not achieve fame and rank, I acted out of spite and took up the role myself. I feared that if this matter became known, it might bring the emperor's wrath and cause the world to laugh at us." The sister-in-law did not believe her, so Lady Yan removed her boots to show her feet, and only then was the sister-in-law stunned. Looking inside the boots, she found them stuffed with old cotton wadding. Thereupon, Lady Yan had the scholar take over her official post, while she herself retreated to the inner chambers and shut her doors, never venturing out. In her lifetime, Lady Yan bore no children, so she used her own money to purchase a concubine for her husband. She said to him, "When ordinary men attain high office and wealth, they buy concubines for their own pleasure; I served as an official for ten years and remained alone. What fortune do you have to sit back and enjoy a beautiful woman?" The husband replied, "If you wish to have thirty male consorts, you may arrange it yourself." This remark became a jest for a time. By then, the scholar's parents had been repeatedly honored with imperial titles. Local officials and gentry came to pay their respects, treating the scholar with the rites due to a Censor-in-Chief. Ashamed to inherit his wife's official rank, the scholar merely styled himself a xiucai and never once in his life used the carriage of a Censor-in-Chief.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: It is indeed a rare wonder that a father and mother should receive imperial honors through their daughter-in-law. Yet how many times have we seen those who wear the official cap of a censor yet tremble like a woman? It is only that there are few who, being women, hold the office of censor. All those beneath heaven who don the scholar's cap and call themselves men should die of shame.
Commentary
In the long feudal society of China, male authority held a dominant position, and women were deprived of the right to participate in social governance, following the principle that "men manage external affairs, women manage internal affairs," so women were not allowed to take the imperial examinations to gain official rank. The tale "Yan Shi" tells of a scholar from Shuntian who, due to his lack of skill in writing eight-legged essays, could not achieve official success, leading to a life of hardship. His wife, Yan Shi, stepped forward, disguised herself as a man, took the imperial examinations, and effortlessly attained honor and power. The story, from one perspective, praises women's talents as not inferior to, or even surpassing, those of men, achieving remarkable feats, and indeed possesses a romantic and legendary quality, yet one cannot conclude from this that Pu Songling advocated for women's rights.
The description in the tale of a certain scholar from Shuntian who was "elegant in appearance and demeanor, skilled in witty banter and adept at letter writing, so that those who saw him knew not that he was empty within" reflects the distorted social evaluation system of the imperial examination era. Even Pu Songling could not escape this trend. In his preface to the Yingzhong Poetry Society, he wrote: "In this age, when the current literary form is used to test scholars, poetry itself has become a heretical path, something beyond the proper sphere." In that era, even poetry was considered "beyond the proper sphere," let alone letter writing!