Original Text
Zong Zimei, a native of Taiyuan, followed his father to pursue studies and eventually settled in Yangzhou. His father had long been acquainted with Old Madam Lin, who lived beneath the Red Bridge. One day, as father and son passed by the Red Bridge, they encountered Old Madam Lin on the road, and she repeatedly invited them into her home for tea and conversation. At that time, a girl stood nearby, exceedingly beautiful, and Zong Zimei's father praised her highly. Old Madam Lin looked at Zong's father and said, "Your eldest son is gentle and kind-hearted, truly like a young maiden, bearing a fortunate countenance. If you do not disdain it, I would offer this girl to him as a wife—what say you?" Zong's father laughed and bade his son rise from his seat to bow in thanks to Old Madam Lin, saying, "A single word is worth a thousand gold pieces!" Previously, Old Madam Lin had lived alone, and this girl had suddenly arrived at her home, lamenting her orphaned and helpless state. When asked her pet name, she said it was Chang'e. Old Madam Lin took a liking to her and kept her there, but in truth, she regarded her as a rare commodity to be hoarded for profit. That year, Zong Zimei was fourteen; upon seeing Chang'e, he was deeply smitten, thinking his father would surely send a matchmaker to propose, but after returning home, his father seemed to have forgotten the matter. Zong Zimei burned with anxiety and secretly told his mother. When his father heard of this, he laughed and said, "The other day was merely a jest with that greedy old woman. You do not know how much gold she intends to sell that girl for—such a matter is no easy task!"
After a year had passed, both of Zong Zimei's parents passed away. Unable to forget his feelings for Chang'e, as the mourning period was drawing to a close, he sent someone to remind Old Madam Lin of the marriage promise she had once made. At first, Old Madam Lin denied it. Zong Zimei said indignantly, "In my life, I do not easily bow to anyone; why does Old Madam Lin regard me as worthless? If she breaks her former promise, she must return the obeisance I made to her!" Upon hearing this, Old Madam Lin then said, "It may be that in jest I once spoke of a betrothal with your late father, but no formal agreement was made, and thus it was forgotten. Now that you speak of it thus, do you think I would keep my daughter to marry her to the Heavenly King? I dress her up finely every day, hoping in truth to gain a thousand taels of silver; now I ask only for half that sum—can you manage it?" Zong Zimei, knowing he could not raise such a sum, let the matter drop.
At that time there was a widow who rented a house to the west of Zong Zimei's home; she had a daughter, just sixteen or seventeen years old, whose pet name was Diandang. Zong Zimei happened to see her, and her beauty was no less than that of Chang'e. He greatly admired her and often sent her family small gifts as a pretext to get close; over time, they gradually became familiar, often exchanging amorous glances, but found no opportunity to speak. One evening, Diandang climbed over the wall to borrow a light. Zong Zimei joyfully took her hand, and thus they consummated their affair. Zong Zimei wanted Diandang to marry him, but she said to wait until her elder brother returned from trading abroad. From then on, whenever they had the chance, they met in secret, leaving no trace. One day, Zong Zimei happened to pass by Red Bridge and saw Chang'e just inside her gate; he quickened his steps, intending to hurry past. Chang'e saw Zong Zimei and beckoned to him; he paused, and when she beckoned again, he entered her home. Chang'e reproached Zong Zimei for breaking his promise, and he recounted the whole story. Hearing this, Chang'e went into the inner room and brought out a ingot of gold, handing it to him. Zong Zimei refused, saying, "I thought my fate with you was forever severed, so I made a new engagement with another. If I accept this gold and betroth myself to you, I would wrong that other; if I accept the gold but do not betroth myself to you, I would wrong you. Thus I dare not be unfaithful to anyone." Chang'e was silent for a long while before saying, "I know of the engagement you have made. That match will surely not succeed; if it does, I will not blame you for being faithless. Go quickly, for Old Lady Lin is about to return." In his haste, Zong Zimei could not decide for himself and took the gold from Chang'e. The next day, he told Diandang about it. Diandang thought Chang'e's words were very reasonable and urged Zong Zimei to focus on marrying Chang'e; Zong Zimei remained silent, and Diandang offered to take a lower position than Chang'e, which made Zong Zimei happy. He immediately sent a matchmaker to present the ingot of gold to Old Lady Lin, who had no reason to refuse, and so Chang'e was married to Zong Zimei. After Chang'e crossed the threshold, Zong Zimei told her of Diandang's words. Chang'e smiled faintly and openly urged Zong Zimei to take Diandang as a concubine. Zong Zimei was overjoyed and eagerly wanted to tell Diandang, but Diandang had long since vanished without a trace. Chang'e knew this was to avoid her, so she temporarily returned to her mother's home, deliberately creating an opportunity for Diandang, and instructed Zong Zimei to steal the sachet that Diandang wore. Soon Diandang indeed came, and Zong Zimei discussed taking her as a concubine; Diandang said not to be hasty. When they undressed and were intimate, there was indeed a purple sachet at her waist, and Zong Zimei tried to take it. Diandang noticed, her face changed, and she rose, saying, "You are of one heart with another, but two hearts with me! You faithless man! From now on, I am through with you." Zong Zimei tried every way to explain and detain her, but Diandang would not listen and left. One day, Zong Zimei passed by Diandang's house and went in to inquire; he found that a merchant from Suzhou had already rented it, and Diandang and her mother had been gone for a long time, leaving no trace, with nowhere to search.
Since Zong Zimei married Chang'e, his family became suddenly wealthy, with towers and long galleries connecting to the neighboring streets. Chang'e was skilled at playful jesting; once, seeing a scroll painting of a beautiful woman, Zong Zimei said, "I secretly think that a woman as lovely as you has no equal under heaven, yet I have never seen the ancient Zhao Feiyan or Yang Guifei." Chang'e replied, "If you wish to see them, what difficulty is there?" So she took the painting, examined it carefully, and then entered the inner chamber, where she adorned herself before the mirror, imitating the delicate, frail dance of Zhao Feiyan and the drunken demeanor of the plump Yang Guifei, altering her form from slender to voluptuous at will, her enchanting manner exactly matching the image on the scroll. While performing, a maidservant entered from outside, failing at first to recognize Chang'e, and asked another maid in astonishment, then looked closely and suddenly understood, unable to suppress a laugh. Zong Zimei joyfully exclaimed, "I have obtained one beauty, yet all the beauties of a thousand ages are now within my boudoir."
One night, while deeply asleep, several people pried open the door and entered, their torches illuminating the walls. Chang'e hastily rose and cried out in alarm, "Bandits!" Zong Zimei, just awakened, was about to shout when a man pressed a knife against his throat, terrifying him so much that he dared not even breathe. Another man hoisted Chang'e onto his back, and with a clamor, they all fled. Only then did Zong Zimei begin to wail and cry; the servants all came, and upon inspecting the family's precious treasures and fine goods, not a single item was missing. Zong Zimei was overcome with grief, so stunned and lost that he felt he could not go on living. He reported the matter to the authorities for pursuit, but there was no news. Gradually, three or four years passed, and Zong Zimei, depressed and idle, took the opportunity of the imperial examinations to go to the capital to distract his mind. He stayed in the capital for half a year, consulting fortune-tellers and diviners, exhausting every means to inquire about Chang'e's whereabouts. One day, by chance passing through a lane called Yao Alley, he encountered a woman, her face covered in dust, her clothes tattered, hurrying along like a beggar. Zong Zimei stopped to look closely and recognized her as Diandang. Startled, he said, "How have you become so haggard?" Diandang replied, "After we parted, I moved south, and my mother died. I was seized by villains and sold into a Bannerman's household, where I endured beatings and curses, cold and hunger—things I cannot bear to speak of." Zong Zimei shed tears upon hearing this and asked, "Can you be ransomed?" Diandang said, "That would be difficult. It would cost a great deal of money, and I fear you may not be able to manage it." Zong Zimei said, "To tell you the truth, in recent years my family has been fairly well-off. It's only a pity that now, traveling abroad, I have limited funds, but I would not hesitate to sell all my clothes and carriage. If the amount needed is too great, I will return home to raise it." Diandang arranged to meet him the next day outside the West City, in a willow grove, and instructed him to come alone, without attendants. Zong Zimei said, "Very well."
The next day, Zong Zimei arrived very early, and Diandang was already there before him, her garments bright and resplendent, utterly unlike those of the previous day. Startled, Zong Zimei inquired, and Diandang replied with a smile, "Yesterday was merely a test of your heart; fortunately, you have not forgotten our old bond. Pray come to my humble abode for a while, and I shall surely repay your kindness." They walked northward not far, and soon reached Diandang's home, where she set out fine wine and delicacies, and they drank and conversed together. Zong Zimei invited her to return with him, but Diandang said, "I still have many mundane affairs to attend to and cannot accompany you. Yet I have heard some tidings of Chang'e." Zong Zimei eagerly asked where Chang'e might be, and Diandang replied, "Her whereabouts are ethereal and uncertain; I myself do not know precisely. In the western hills there dwells an old nun, blind in one eye; if you go and ask her, she should know." That night, Zong Zimei stayed at Diandang's home. At dawn, Diandang pointed out the path to the western hills for Zong Zimei. Following this road, he reached the hills, where an ancient temple stood, its walls in ruins, and amidst the bamboo grove was a half-ruined thatched hut, within which an old nun sat mending her monastic robe. When she saw the visitor arrive, she did not greet him. Zong Zimei bowed to her with joined hands, and the nun raised her head to inquire. Zong Zimei told her his name and stated his request. The nun said, "I am an eighty-year-old blind woman, cut off from the world; how could I know anything of Chang'e's whereabouts?" Zong Zimei pleaded repeatedly, and only then did the nun say, "I truly do not know. But a few of my relatives are coming to visit me tomorrow evening; perhaps among the young maidens there may be one who knows Chang'e, though I cannot be certain. You may come again tomorrow evening." Zong Zimei then took his leave and departed.
The next day, when he went again, the nun had gone elsewhere on business, and the broken door was locked. Zong Zimei waited for a long time, lingering until deep in the night, when the bright moon hung high; he paced anxiously, at a loss for what to do. Then, from afar, he saw several young women approaching from outside, and among them was Chang'e. Overjoyed, Zong Zimei suddenly rushed forward and hastily seized Chang'e's sleeve. Chang'e said, "Rash young man! You have frightened me to death! How I detest that meddlesome Diandang, who once again entangles me in the affairs of love." Zong Zimei pulled Chang'e down to sit, took her hand, and poured out his longing, recounting the hardships he had endured, until he could not help but weep bitterly. Chang'e said, "Let me tell you the truth: I am originally Chang'e from the Moon Palace, banished to the mortal world to wander among dust and turmoil. My term of exile is now complete, so I feigned a robbery to sever your hopes. The old nun is also a gatekeeper at the Queen Mother of the West's palace; when I was first cast down to earth, she took me in, and so I visit her whenever I have leisure. If you will let me go, I shall have Diandang marry you." Zong Zimei refused to listen, bowing his head and weeping. Chang'e looked into the distance and said, "My sisters are coming." As Zong Zimei glanced around, Chang'e had vanished. He wailed aloud, overcome with grief, and, unable to bear his pain, untied his belt to hang himself. In a daze, he felt his soul leave his body, drifting aimlessly, not knowing where to go. After a while, he saw Chang'e approaching; she seized him, lifted him until his feet left the ground, and entered the temple. She took down the corpse from the tree, shook him, and called out, "Foolish lover, foolish lover! Chang'e is here." Zong Zimei suddenly awoke as if from a dream. Once he had steadied himself, Chang'e said angrily, "That vile slave Diandang! She has harmed me and nearly killed my lord; I will never forgive her!" She then went down the mountain, hired a sedan chair, and returned home.
Zong Zimei ordered his servant to prepare the luggage, then turned back and left the western city to thank Diandang. When he arrived at Diandang's doorstep, he saw that the house and its surroundings had completely changed. Zong Zimei was utterly astonished and, sighing, returned to the inn. Secretly, he rejoiced that Chang'e knew nothing of this matter. As soon as he entered, Chang'e came out smiling and said, "Have you seen Diandang?" Zong Zimei was stunned and could not reply. Chang'e said, "You acted behind Chang'e's back—how could you have obtained Diandang? Please sit and wait; Diandang will come of her own accord." In a short while, Diandang indeed arrived, and upon entering the room, she hurriedly knelt prostrate before the bed. Chang'e flicked her forehead with her finger and said, "You little imp, you have harmed people no small amount!" Diandang kowtowed repeatedly, begging only for a reprieve from death. Chang'e said, "You push a man into a pit and still think to escape beyond the heavens? The Eleventh Lady of the Guanghan Palace is soon to marry into the mortal world, and she must have one hundred pairs of embroidered pillows and one hundred pairs of shoes. You may come with me and help make them." Diandang replied respectfully, "I only ask that you assign me a portion of the work, and I will deliver it on time." Chang'e would not agree and said to Zong Zimei, "If you plead for her, I will let her off." Diandang looked at Zong Zimei, but he only smiled and said nothing. Diandang glared at him angrily. Then Diandang begged to go home and inform her family, and Chang'e permitted it, so Diandang left. Zong Zimei asked Chang'e about Diandang's background and learned that she was a fox spirit from the Western Mountains. Zong Zimei bought a carriage and horses and waited for her. The next day, Diandang indeed came, and they all returned home together.
However, upon her return home this time, Chang'e conducted herself with great dignity, rarely given to laughter or idle talk. When Zong Zimei pressed his affections upon her, she would quietly bid Diandang to take her place. Diandang was exceedingly clever and skilled in the art of beguiling men. Chang'e preferred to sleep alone, often making excuses to keep Zong Zimei from sharing her bed. One night, well past the third watch, the sound of tittering laughter was heard from Diandang's chamber. Chang'e sent a maid to eavesdrop. The maid returned without a word, merely urging her mistress to go and see for herself. Peering through the window, Chang'e beheld Diandang dressed in her own likeness, with Zong Zimei embracing her and calling out "Chang'e." Smiling, Chang'e withdrew. Shortly thereafter, Diandang was suddenly seized by a violent pain in her heart; hastily throwing on her clothes, she dragged Zong Zimei into Chang'e's room and fell to her knees at the threshold. Chang'e said, "Am I, then, a sorceress who practices black arts? It is you who wished to imitate the heart-clutching Xi Shi." Diandang kowtowed without cease, repeatedly confessing her fault. Chang'e said, "It is enough."
Dian Dang said privately to Zong Zimei, "I can make the lady learn to be Guanyin." Zong Zimei did not believe her, so the two made a wager. Whenever Chang'e sat cross-legged, she would close her eyes tightly. Dian Dang took a jade vase, inserted a willow branch, and placed it on the table beside Chang'e. She then let her hair hang down, pressed her palms together, and stood in attendance by Chang'e's side, her cherry lips half-open, her jade teeth slightly exposed, and her gaze fixed. When Zong Zimei saw this scene, he laughed. Chang'e opened her eyes and asked what was happening. Dian Dang said, "I am learning to be a dragon maiden serving Guanyin." Chang'e laughed and scolded her, punishing her by making her bow like a young acolyte. Dian Dang tied her hair into a child's topknot, knelt and bowed in all four directions, then after a while lay prostrate and turned over, assuming various postures, bending her body left and right until her toes could touch her ears. Chang'e laughed with delight and, while sitting, kicked her with her foot. Dian Dang raised her head, caught Chang'e's small foot in her mouth, and gently bit it. Just as Chang'e was laughing and playing, she suddenly felt a thread of spring passion rising from her toes, surging straight to her heart, leaving her spirit dazed and her will adrift, with an unbearable burning desire. At that moment, she quickly gathered her composure and scolded Dian Dang, saying, "You fox slave, you deserve death! Do you not see who I am, that you dare to seduce me?" Dian Dang, frightened, quickly released her mouth and prostrated herself on the ground. Chang'e then sternly rebuked her, though the others did not understand why. Chang'e said to Zong Zimei, "Dian Dang's fox nature remains unchanged; just now she nearly played her tricks on me. If not for my deep-rooted karma, falling into depravity would have been easy!" From then on, whenever Chang'e saw Dian Dang, she strictly disciplined her. Dian Dang, both ashamed and afraid, said to Zong Zimei, "Every limb and part of the lady's body I find lovable and dear; loving her to the utmost, I unconsciously become excessively charming. If you think I have ulterior motives, you wrong me; I not only dare not, but I cannot bear to do so." Zong Zimei relayed this to Chang'e, and she treated Dian Dang as before. However, because Dian Dang and Zong Zimei indulged in intimate play without restraint, Chang'e repeatedly admonished Zong Zimei, but he would not listen. Consequently, all the maidservants and serving women vied with one another in playful antics.
One day, two people supported a maidservant, who was dressed up as Yang Guifei. The two exchanged a glance, tricked the maidservant playing the role of Guifei into pretending to be deeply drunk, then suddenly let go, causing the maidservant to crash heavily down the steps with a sound like a wall collapsing. Everyone cried out in alarm, and when they approached to touch her, the maidservant was already dead. All were terrified and quickly reported to the master. Chang'e exclaimed in panic, "A great calamity is upon us! What did I say?" She went over to look again, but there was no saving her, so she sent someone to inform the maidservant's father. Her father, a certain Jia, was always of poor character. Hearing this, he came wailing, carried his daughter's corpse into the hall, and cursed endlessly. Zong Zimei was so frightened he shut the door, not knowing what to do. Chang'e went out herself to rebuke Jia: "If a master abuses a maidservant to death, the law does not demand life for life. Besides, your daughter died suddenly by accident; how do you know she might not revive?" Jia shouted, "Her limbs are all cold and stiff; how could she revive?" Chang'e said, "Do not make such a racket. Even if she cannot live, there are still the authorities." She then entered the hall and touched the corpse, and at that moment the maidservant revived and immediately stood up. Chang'e turned back and angrily scolded Jia: "This maidservant is fortunate not to have died. Why are you, a base slave, so insolent? You can be bound with straw ropes and sent to the authorities!" Jia had nothing to say and knelt long, begging for mercy. Chang'e said, "Since you know your guilt, I will spare you for now. But a petty man is shameless and fickle; keeping your daughter will ultimately bring trouble. You may take her back. The original price was such and such; go quickly and raise the money to bring it." She sent someone to escort Jia out, had him invite several village elders to act as guarantors and sign the document. Then she called the maidservant before her and had Jia ask her personally, "Are you injured?" The maidservant said, "No." So she let her go with her father. Afterward, she summoned the other maidservants, sternly reprimanded them, and beat each one in turn. She then called for Diandang and strictly forbade her from engaging in such games again. She said to Zong Zimei, "Today you should know that those in a superior position cannot lightly show even a smile or a frown. The mischief began with me; those above set an example, and those below follow, leading to endless harm. All sorrow belongs to yin, and all joy to yang; when yang reaches its peak, yin arises, and when joy reaches its peak, sorrow follows. The cycle of yin and yang has its fixed measure. This calamity with the maidservant was a warning from the spirits. If you persist in your delusion, the ruin of your family will be upon you." Zong Zimei listened respectfully to Chang'e's teachings. Diandang wept and begged Chang'e to save her. Chang'e pinched her ear for a moment before letting go. Diandang was dazed and unaware, but after a while, as if waking from a dream, she prostrated herself on the ground, overjoyed and nearly dancing. From then on, the inner quarters were quiet and orderly, with no one daring to make noise or laugh. The maidservant returned to her home and suddenly died without illness or mishap. Jia could not raise the ransom money and asked the village elders to beg Chang'e to waive it, which she agreed to. Mindful of the maidservant's service, she also granted her a coffin.
Zong Zimei often worried about having no son. One day, from within Chang'e's belly there suddenly came the cry of an infant, so he cut open her left side with a knife and took out a child, which indeed was a boy. Before long, she became pregnant again, and he cut open her right side, taking out a girl. The boy bore a striking resemblance to his father, while the girl looked exactly like her mother; when they grew up, both were married into prominent and noble families.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: When yang reaches its peak, yin is born—truly these are words of profound wisdom! Yet within the chamber there dwells an immortal, fortunate enough to bring me joy, dispel my calamities, prolong my life, and keep me from death. In this bower of tenderness, such bliss is found that one might willingly grow old and die here; but why then does the immortal still harbor worry? The cycles of Heaven revolve with fixed measure, and the principles of the world are as they should be; yet how are we to explain those who languish in prolonged adversity without relief? In former times during the Song dynasty, there was a man who sought to become an immortal but failed, often saying: 'To be an immortal for but a single day, I would die without regret.' Hearing these words, I could not even muster a smile.
Commentary
Because the Ming and Qing dynasties practiced polygamy, "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio" contains many stories of two women marrying the same man. These women vary in identity, some being human, some fox spirits, some ghosts, and some immortals, offering considerable diversity. The tale "Chang'e" features one celestial maiden and one fox maiden, with clear distinctions between wife and concubine, providing a detailed depiction of their harmonious and playful domestic life. The intricate love and marriage of Zong Zimei with Chang'e and Dingdang carry a certain philosophical flavor, emphasizing that "extreme yang gives rise to yin," advocating moderation in all things. Dan Minglun commented: "Only immortals are deeply passionate, yet only immortals can restrain passion. Only immortals know true joy, yet only immortals do not indulge in extreme joy. This is the essence of the narrative." The central plot, where Zong Zimei's maidservants and female servants cause accidental death during a game, underscores the author's emphasis on emotional restraint. The victim's father plans to exploit the incident for extortion, but Chang'e deceives him with feigned supernatural tricks. The author's approval of this somewhat unsavory plot reflects both the legal realities of Qing dynasty servitude and Pu Songling's own hierarchical and status-bound thinking. It can be seen as a footnote to his "Essentials of Good Governance," where he specifically includes "Prohibiting Slaves from Suing Masters Over Death," arguing that "if a servant or maid dies accidentally from punishment by the master, the law should not hold the master accountable," in order to prevent "their fathers, brothers, and relatives from treating it as a rare opportunity to file false lawsuits, extort money, or even storm the home to assault and loot. Without strict prohibition, such vile customs would grow, and social hierarchy would be utterly degraded."