Original Text
Xia Shang was a man of Hejian. His father, Xia Dongling, was a wealthy spendthrift who, whenever he ate steamed buns, would only consume the filling and discard the crusts, scattering them all over the ground. Because of his corpulence, people called him the Crust-Discarding Grand Marshal. In his later years, his family fell into dire poverty, and he could not even eat his fill each day; his arms became withered and his skin hung loose like a sack, so people also called him the Alms-Bowl Monk, likening him to a mendicant monk carrying a begging bag. On his deathbed, he said to Xia Shang, "In my life, I wantonly wasted the gifts of Heaven, provoking the wrath of the gods, and thus I am dying of cold and hunger. You must cherish the blessings bestowed by Heaven, work diligently, and atone for my transgressions." Xia Shang strictly adhered to his father's dying admonition; he was honest and simple in character, harboring not a single wicked thought, tilling the fields and living by his own labor. The villagers all loved and respected him.
There was a wealthy man who took pity on his poverty and lent him capital to learn the transport trade, but Xia Shang often ended up losing even the principal. Unable to repay the debt, he felt deeply uneasy and begged to work as a servant in the wealthy man's household, but the man refused. Xia Shang grew even more anxious, sold his own fields and house, and used the money to repay the debt. The wealthy man, upon learning the source of the funds, pitied him even more, forcibly redeemed the sold property for him, and lent him even more capital to engage in trade. Xia Shang declined, saying, "I have not yet repaid the dozen or so taels of silver borrowed previously; how could I incur a debt that would require me to be reborn as a donkey or horse to settle?" The wealthy man then invited a merchant to accompany him in business. After a few months, they returned, having merely broken even. The wealthy man refused to take any interest and urged him to venture forth again with the principal. Over a year later, Xia Shang returned with a cart full of goods and money, but on the journey home, they encountered a hurricane on the river; the boat nearly capsized, and half the cargo was lost. Upon returning, he tallied the remaining goods and money, which roughly covered the principal. So he said to his fellow merchant, "Heaven has decreed my poverty; who can save me? This is all my fault for dragging you into it!" He then handed over the accounts to the merchant and withdrew respectfully. The wealthy man again earnestly urged him to continue trading, but he steadfastly refused and returned to farming for a living. He often sighed, saying, "In this world, every man has a few years of good fortune; why am I so utterly destitute?"
At that time, a woman skilled in sorcery arrived from another region, using coins for divination to foretell people's destinies. Xia Shang respectfully went to consult her. The sorceress was an elderly woman, her dwelling neat and refined, with an altar set up in the center, incense curling upward. After Xia Shang entered and paid his respects, the crone demanded a fee for the divination. He gave her a hundred coins, which she placed into a wooden tube. Kneeling before the altar, she shook the tube like drawing a divination slip. Rising after a moment, she poured the coins into her hand and arranged them in rows on the table. The method was such that the side with characters signified ill fortune, while the reverse side indicated good fortune. Counting to fifty-eight coins, all showed the character side; the rest were all reverse. The sorceress asked, "How old are you this year?" Xia Shang replied, "Twenty-eight." She shook her head and said, "It is still early! Sir, you are currently walking in your ancestors' fortune, not your own. Only at fifty-eight will you encounter your own fortune, and then you will face no further hardships." Xia Shang asked, "What is meant by ancestors' fortune?" The sorceress said, "If one's forebears performed virtuous deeds, their unspent blessings may be enjoyed by descendants; if they committed evil, their unexhausted calamities must also be borne by later generations." Xia Shang counted on his fingers and said, "In another thirty years, I will be old, nearing the end of my days." The sorceress replied, "Before fifty-eight, there will be a five-year turn of fortune, allowing you to accomplish a little, but only enough to avoid hunger and cold. In the very year you turn fifty-eight, a vast sum of money will come to your door without any effort on your part. Sir, you have committed no wrongs in this life, and your blessings will extend even into your next incarnation."
Xia Shang bid farewell to the witch and returned home, half believing and half doubting her words. Yet he remained content with poverty, steadfast in his integrity, and dared not seek undeserved wealth. When he reached the age of fifty-three, he began to carefully observe whether the witch's prophecy would come true. At that time, it was spring plowing season, but Xia Shang fell ill with malaria and could not till the fields. After recovering, a great drought struck, and all the seedlings withered and died. As autumn approached, rain finally fell, but he had no other seeds left, so he planted all his land with millet. Then drought struck again, and most of the buckwheat and bean crops perished, leaving only the millet unharmed. Later, rain came to nourish it, and it grew vigorously, yielding twice the harvest of previous years. The following spring, famine broke out, but Xia Shang did not go hungry. Thus, he came to believe the witch's words, borrowed capital from a certain old man, engaged in small trade, and earned modest profits. Some advised him to venture into large-scale business, but he refused.
When he reached the age of fifty-seven, he happened to be repairing the courtyard wall and, digging in the ground, discovered an iron pot. Upon opening it, wisps of white vapor emerged, and he was too frightened to reach in. After a while, when the vapor had dissipated, he saw that the pot was filled to the brim with gleaming silver ingots. Xia Shang and his wife took out the silver and weighed it, finding it totaled one thousand three hundred and twenty-five taels. The two privately discussed that the witch's divination had been slightly off. The wife of a neighbor came to visit the Shang household, saw the silver, and returned home to tell her husband. Her husband, consumed with jealousy, secretly informed the county magistrate. The magistrate was a corrupt official who arrested Xia Shang and demanded the silver. Xia Shang's wife wanted to hide half of it, but Xia Shang said, "If it is not ours by destiny, keeping it will only invite disaster." So he handed over all the silver. The magistrate, having obtained the silver, feared that Xia Shang might have concealed some, and further demanded the original container; when the silver was placed back into it, it filled it exactly, and only then was Xia Shang released. Not long after, the magistrate was promoted to the post of Tongzhi in Nanchang. A year later, Xia Shang traveled to Nanchang on business, and by then the magistrate had died. His wife was preparing to return to her hometown and sold off some bulky items, including several baskets of tung oil. Xia Shang, seeing the low price, bought them and brought them home. Upon arrival, one oil basket leaked, so he poured the oil into another container, and there discovered two ingots of white silver inside the basket. Examining the other baskets, he found each contained silver. Weighing it, the amount exactly matched the silver he had originally unearthed. From then on, Xia Shang suddenly became wealthy and was even more willing to help the poor, generously opening his purse without any stinginess. His wife urged him to leave some inheritance for their descendants, but Xia Shang said, "This is precisely what I am leaving for them." The neighbor who had informed on him was now so poor he had become a beggar and wished to seek help from Xia Shang, but was too ashamed to speak. When Xia Shang learned of this, he told him, "What happened in the past was simply that my fortune had not yet arrived, so the spirits and gods used your hand to break the good thing. What fault is yours?" And he provided him with relief. The neighbor was moved to tears. Later, Xia Shang lived to the age of eighty, and his descendants inherited his estate, which flourished for several generations without decline.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: When extravagance exceeds all bounds, even princes and nobles cannot escape calamity—how much more so for common folk! Those who waste the bounty of heaven in life will find themselves in death so destitute that their mouths lack even the customary rice offering; truly lamentable! Yet fortunately, before his end, he left his son the admonition to 'cherish blessings and practice diligence,' and the son heeded his father's words, managing the household with thrift and hard work, thereby reviving a family that had languished in poverty for seventy years. Had it been otherwise, the father's sins would have entangled the son, and the son in turn the grandson, and the line would not cease until they became beggars passed down through generations. What manner of old witch was it who finally divulged the secrets of heaven? Alas! How strange indeed!
Commentary
A person's fate comprises two parts: the fate of their ancestors and their own fate. If ancestors accumulate virtue and perform good deeds, they will bring blessings to their descendants; otherwise, they will bring calamity, to the extent that 'the father's sins burden the son, and the son in turn burdens the grandson.'
This story advises against extravagance and envy, and instead promotes generosity and compassion for the poor. It speaks of common rural matters, intimate and flavorful. Notably, a certain wealthy old man, pitying Xia Shang’s poverty, helps him not by farming but by lending him capital to learn peddling, revealing how widespread commerce was in Pu Songling’s hometown and how enlightened the author’s thinking was.