Original Text
Wang Muzhen of Mengyin was a scion of a distinguished family. Once, while traveling in the Jiangsu and Zhejiang region, he encountered an old woman weeping by the roadside and approached to ask her what was wrong. The old woman said, "My late husband left me only one son, and now he has committed a capital crime. Who can save him?" Wang Muzhen, always generous and chivalrous, noted the son's name, used the silver from his purse to intercede on his behalf, and ultimately secured his pardon. When the man was released from prison and learned that Wang Muzhen had saved him, he was utterly bewildered as to the reason. He traced Wang to his inn, went to thank him with tears of gratitude, and asked why he had been helped. Wang Muzhen replied, "It was nothing—I merely pitied your aged mother." The man was greatly startled and said, "My mother has been dead for many years." Wang Muzhen, too, found this strange. That night, the old woman came to thank him, and Wang reproached her for lying. She said, "To tell you the truth, I am an old fox from the Eastern Mountain. Twenty years ago, I shared a single night of intimacy with this man's father, and thus I could not bear to see his lineage end, lest he starve in the underworld." Wang Muzhen listened with profound respect and wished to ask her more, but she had already vanished without a trace.
Previously, Wang Muzhen's wife was virtuous and devoutly Buddhist, abstaining from meat and wine. She had a clean room prepared with a hanging portrait of Guanyin, and because she had no son, she burned incense and prayed there daily. Guanyin was very responsive, appearing in dreams to instruct her on what to avoid and pursue, so all household matters, great and small, were decided by her. Later, when Wang's wife fell ill and her condition grew severe, she had her bed moved into that room and arranged embroidered bedding in the inner chamber, closing the door as if awaiting someone. Wang Muzhen was puzzled by this, but seeing her delirious with illness, he could not bear to go against her wishes and hurt her feelings. She lay ill for two years, detesting noisy sounds, often sending people away to sleep alone. Wang Muzhen secretly listened and seemed to hear her speaking with someone, but when he opened the door to look, there was no sound. During her illness, she had no other concerns except for her fourteen-year-old daughter, whom she daily urged to prepare a dowry and marry off. After the daughter was wed, Wang's wife called Wang Muzhen to her bedside, took his hand, and said, "Today we part forever! When I first fell ill, the Bodhisattva told me that my fate was to die quickly, but my only regret was that our daughter was not yet married. Therefore, the Bodhisattva granted me some medicine to prolong my days and wait. Last year, the Bodhisattva was to return to the South Sea, leaving her attendant Xiao Mei to serve me. Now I am near death, and I, a woman of ill fortune, have borne no son. Bao'er is dear to me, and I fear you might marry a jealous and fierce woman, leaving mother and child without support. Xiao Mei is beautiful in appearance and gentle in nature; take her as your second wife." It turned out that Wang Muzhen had a concubine who had borne him a son named Bao'er. Wang Muzhen, thinking his wife's words absurd, said, "You have always revered the Bodhisattva; to speak thus now, is it not blasphemy?" His wife replied, "Xiao Mei has served me for over a year, and we have become as one. I have already begged her consent to this matter." Wang Muzhen asked, "Where is Xiao Mei?" She answered, "Is she not the one in the room?" As Wang Muzhen was about to ask further, his wife closed her eyes and passed away.
Wang Muzhen kept vigil by the spirit tablet at night, when he heard faint weeping within the room, greatly startled, suspecting it to be a ghost. He summoned several maids and concubines to unlock the door and look inside, where they saw a beautiful young lady of fifteen or sixteen, clad in mourning garments, seated in the chamber. The crowd took her for a deity and gathered around to kowtow; Xiaomei ceased her tears and raised them up. Wang Muzhen fixed his gaze upon her, but she only lowered her head. Wang said, "If my late wife's words are true, I pray you ascend the hall and receive the children's obeisance. If not, I dare not entertain vain hopes, lest I bring guilt upon myself." Xiaomei shyly stepped out of the room and ascended the northern hall. Wang bade the maids set a south-facing seat for her; he bowed first, and Xiaomei returned the bow. Then, in order of seniority and rank, all knelt and prostrated themselves, and Xiaomei received their homage with a dignified countenance; only when the concubine came forward did she rise and assist her. Since Wang's wife had fallen ill, the servants had grown lax and negligent, and household affairs had long been neglected. After the assembly had paid their respects, they all stood respectfully to one side. Xiaomei said, "I am grateful for the lady's deep kindness and have resolved to remain in the mortal world; she has entrusted me with great matters. Each of you must reform your hearts and devote yourselves to your master. Past faults shall be overlooked entirely; otherwise, do not think that there is no one to manage the household!" The crowd gazed at Xiaomei on her seat, as if she were a hanging image of Guanyin, stirred now and then by a gentle breeze. Hearing her words, they grew even more fearful and answered in unison. Thereupon, Xiaomei directed the funeral arrangements, and everything was carried out with perfect order; thus, none among the household, great or small, dared to be idle. Xiaomei busied herself all day with managing affairs within and without; whatever Wang Muzhen undertook, he first consulted her before proceeding, and though they met several times daily, they never exchanged a single private word.
After his wife was buried, Wang Muzhen wished to fulfill his previous promise but dared not speak directly to Xiaomei, so he instructed his concubine to subtly hint at the matter. Xiaomei said, "I have accepted the earnest entreaty of the lady, and in reason, I cannot refuse, but the rites of marriage must not be conducted hastily. The venerable Mr. Huang, an elder of high rank and noble virtue, if he could be invited to preside over the ceremony, then I would certainly obey without question." At that time, the Grand Tutor Huang of Yishui was living in retirement at home; he was a friend of Wang Muzhen's father, and the two families had close ties. Wang Muzhen immediately went to see the elder Mr. Huang in person and told him the truth. Mr. Huang found it very strange and promptly accompanied Wang Muzhen back to his home. When Xiaomei learned of this, she came out at once to pay her respects. Upon seeing her, Mr. Huang was astonished, as if beholding a celestial being, and humbly dared not agree to preside over the wedding; he then sent a generous gift, and only after the ceremony was completed did he return home. Xiaomei presented him with a pillow and shoes, as if honoring her parents-in-law, and from then on, the two families grew even closer. After their marriage, Wang Muzhen always regarded Xiaomei as a divine maiden, and even in intimacy he felt restrained, often inquiring about the daily life of the Bodhisattva. Xiaomei laughed and said, "You are too foolish and pedantic—how could there be a true immortal descending to marry in the mortal world?" When Wang Muzhen pressed her repeatedly about her origins, Xiaomei replied, "Do not ask so many questions; since you take me for an immortal, then worship me morning and evening, and naturally you will encounter no calamities."
Xiao Mei treated the servants with great magnanimity, never speaking without a smile. Yet when the servants were at play, catching sight of her from afar, they would immediately fall silent. Xiao Mei would laugh and tell them, "Do you all still think I am a deity? What kind of immortal am I! I am in truth the wife's maternal cousin, close friends from childhood. When my elder sister fell ill, she longed for me and secretly sent Old Woman Wang from the southern village to fetch me. But because I was daily near my brother-in-law, there was the impropriety of male and female proximity, so I pretended to be the Bodhisattva's handmaiden, confined to a room—how could I be any sort of divine being?" The crowd still doubted her, yet as they attended her day by day and saw her actions were no different from ordinary folk, the rumors gradually subsided. Even so, those unruly servants and lazy maids whom Wang Muzhen had long tried to correct with the whip but could not reform, would, at a single word from Xiao Mei, willingly comply and mend their ways. They all said, "We ourselves do not understand it. It is not that we fear her, but the moment we see her countenance, our hearts soften of their own accord, and we cannot bear to defy her commands." Thus, all affairs within the household were revived and set in order. Within a few years, the fields expanded, and the granaries held ten thousand bushels of grain.
Several more years passed, and the concubine gave birth to a daughter. Little Mei bore a son. When the child was born, there was a red mark on his left arm, so they named him Little Red. At the full-moon celebration, Little Mei had Wang Muzhen lay out a lavish feast and invited Elder Huang to attend. Elder Huang sent generous gifts but declined, citing his advanced age and inability to travel far. Little Mei dispatched two old maidservants to insistently urge him, and only then did Elder Huang arrive. Little Mei came out holding the child, bared his left arm to show Elder Huang, as a gesture of seeking a name for the boy, and repeatedly asked about the child's fortune and fate. Elder Huang smiled and said, "This is a joyous red; one character may be added, so let his name be Xihong." Little Mei was delighted and came out again to bow in thanks. That day, the sound of drums and music filled the courtyard, and relatives and honored guests arrived in droves. Elder Huang stayed for three days before returning home.
One day, carriages and horses suddenly appeared outside the gate, coming to welcome Xiaomei back to her maternal home. For over ten years, there had been no contact with Xiaomei's family, and people buzzed with gossip, yet Xiaomei seemed not to hear them. She dressed and adorned herself, took the child in her arms, and asked Wang Muzhen to see her off; Wang Muzhen had no choice but to comply. After traveling about twenty or thirty li, the road fell silent and deserted. Xiaomei stopped the carriage, called Wang Muzhen to dismount, and, avoiding others, said to him, "Wang Lang, Wang Lang, our meeting is brief and our parting long—do you not find it sorrowful?" Startled, Wang Muzhen asked what she meant. Xiaomei said, "Who do you think I am?" Wang Muzhen replied, "I do not know." Xiaomei said, "You once saved a condemned criminal in Jiangnan—is that true?" Wang Muzhen said, "It is." Xiaomei said, "The one weeping on the road was my mother. Grateful for your kindness, she was determined to repay you. Thus, taking advantage of your wife's devotion to Buddhism, she pretended to be a divine being, but in truth, she used me to requite your favor. Now, fortunately, I have borne this child, and this wish is fulfilled. I see that your ill fortune is approaching; if this child remains at home, I fear he may not be raised to maturity. Therefore, I use the pretext of returning to my maternal home to rescue him from danger. Remember this: when someone in your household dies, you must go at the first crow of the rooster in the morning to the willow embankment by the West River. If you see a man carrying a sunflower lamp, block his path and plead with him earnestly—this can avert calamity." Wang Muzhen said, "Very well." He then asked when she would return. Xiaomei said, "I cannot set a fixed time. But remember my words well; the day we meet again will not be too distant." At their parting, they clasped hands and wept bitterly. Then Xiaomei mounted the carriage, which sped away like the wind. Wang Muzhen watched until it vanished from sight, then returned home.
After six or seven years had passed, there was no word at all from Xiaomei. Suddenly, a plague swept through the village, claiming many lives, and one of the household maids fell ill and died after three days. Wang Muzhen recalled Xiaomei's earlier admonitions and paid close attention to the matter. That day, while drinking with a guest, he became deeply intoxicated and fell asleep. When he awoke, he heard the rooster crowing, and hastily rose to rush to the head of the dike, where he saw a flickering lantern light, but the person had already passed by. Wang Muzhen hurried in pursuit, only a hundred paces behind, yet the more he chased, the farther the figure seemed, gradually vanishing from sight. He returned home in regret. A few days later, Wang Muzhen suddenly fell ill and soon died. Among the Wang clan were many unscrupulous rogues who banded together to bully the widow and orphan, openly cutting down crops and trees, and the Wang household declined day by day. After a year, Bao'er also died, leaving the family with no one to manage affairs. The clansmen grew even more tyrannical, dividing up the fields and property, and even looting the cattle and horses from the pens. Then they sought to partition the residence as well, but because Wang Muzhen's concubine still lived there, several men came and forcibly tried to sell her. The concubine could not bear to part with her young daughter, and the mother and daughter wept in each other's arms, a tragic scene that stirred the neighbors.
At the critical moment of crisis, suddenly they heard a sedan chair being carried in through the gate, and when everyone looked, it was Xiao Mei pulling a little boy out of the carriage. Xiao Mei glanced around and saw the crowd bustling like a marketplace, so she asked, "What are all these people?" The concubine tearfully told her everything that had happened. Xiao Mei's face instantly turned pale with grief, and she ordered the attending servants to close the doors and lock them. The crowd tried to resist, but their hands and feet would not obey. Xiao Mei had them all bound one by one and tied to the pillars under the eaves, giving them only three bowls of thin gruel a day. She immediately sent an old servant to inform Elder Huang, then went into the inner chamber to weep bitterly. After weeping, she said to the concubine, "This is all fate. I had intended to return last month, but my mother fell ill, which delayed me, and so today's events came to pass. I never imagined that in the blink of an eye, this place would be empty of people." When she asked about the former maids and servants, they had all been seized by the clan members, and she wept again. After a day, when the servants and maids heard that Xiao Mei had returned, they all secretly slipped back, and upon meeting, they wept bitterly once more. The bound clan members all claimed that Xiao Mei's child was not Wang Muzhen's own flesh and blood, but Xiao Mei did not argue. Soon, Elder Huang arrived, and Xiao Mei led her son out to greet him. Elder Huang took the boy's arm and rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a clear red birthmark, which he showed to everyone as proof that the child was indeed Wang Muzhen's son. Then Elder Huang carefully examined the lost items, recorded them in a ledger, and personally went to see the county magistrate, requesting that the rogue clan members be arrested, each given forty strokes of the cane, put in cangues and shackles, and strictly ordered to return the stolen goods. Within a few days, the fields, cattle, and horses were all restored to their rightful owners. When Elder Huang was about to return home, Xiao Mei, holding the child, wept and bowed, saying, "I am not of this world, as Uncle knows. Now I entrust this child to your care." Elder Huang said, "As long as this old man has a breath left, I will not fail to stand by him." After Elder Huang left, Xiao Mei settled the household affairs, entrusted the son to the concubine, and prepared sacrificial offerings to sweep her husband's grave. After half a day passed, she had not returned. Someone was sent to look, and the offerings were still there, but she had vanished without a trace.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: He who does not cut off another's lineage shall himself not have his lineage cut off—this is human affairs, yet also the will of Heaven. As for having good friends at the feast, sharing carriages and furs, but when the grave grass has grown for a year and the widow and orphans suffer insult, those former companions in the carriage will flee as if afraid to be near. One who cannot bear to forget a good friend, who feels gratitude for a deceased friend's kindness and seeks only to repay it—what manner of man is this! It is a fox! If you possess wealth, I would gladly become your steward, managing your finances for you.
Commentary
Speaking of foxes repaying kindness, implying that humans are inferior to foxes, this tale and "Little Cui" in Volume Seven share the same ingenious approach. Both involve repaying kindness through matters of offspring, revealing the critical importance of progeny in feudal society. Wherein lies this importance? To put it plainly, it is because in a patriarchal society, offspring are entangled with the redistribution of property, a point particularly prominent in this tale.
Although both Xiaomei and Xiaocui are fox maidens repaying a debt of gratitude, their temperaments are vastly different. Xiaocui is naively boisterous and fond of laughter, with mischief as the central axis of her character, whereas Xiaomei, from her very first appearance, presents herself as a handmaiden before the statue of Guanyin, gentle, virtuous, and exquisitely beautiful, commanding respect without anger, even leaving an impression that she truly resembles a hanging image of Guanyin, thus showcasing Pu Songling's richly varied and all-encompassing literary skill.
Xiao Mei "was lenient in managing her household, never speaking without a smile," yet she made decisive judgments and handled everything with orderly precision, demonstrating the managerial competence of a noble lady. This was especially evident in the two funerals of Wang Muzhen's family and her reliance on Grand Tutor Huang to secure Wang Muzhen's lineage. The first funeral was for Wang Muzhen's deceased wife; Xiao Mei "arranged the funeral affairs with perfect order, so that from the highest to the lowest, none dared to slack." The second funeral was for Wang Muzhen himself; Xiao Mei reclaimed the family property seized by his clansmen, "after auditing everything thoroughly, entrusted the child to a concubine, then prepared a feast to sweep her husband's grave." On both occasions, she turned the tide when all seemed lost, ensuring the family estate could continue. Her interaction with Grand Tutor Huang was a stroke of long-term planning and deep calculation for the child's future, also serving as a crucial thread running through the entire narrative. With Grand Tutor Huang as a patron, Wang Muzhen's offspring and property were both preserved. In certain aspects of Xiao Mei's managerial talents, we catch a glimpse of Xifeng from "Dream of the Red Chamber."
Although this tale depicts a fox spirit repaying a kindness, with Xiao Mei's image hovering between reality and illusion, the narrative possesses a verisimilitude in its plot and a rich texture of folk customs. Scenes such as Xiao Mei ascending the northern hall to sit facing south, receiving the salutations of the serving women; when she married Wang Muzhen, inviting Grand Steward Huang to officiate the ceremony, where "the lady presented pillows and shoes as if paying respects to her parents-in-law"; at the full-moon celebration of Xiao Mei's child, "drums and music filled the courtyard, and noble relatives crowded the place like a market"; and particularly after Xiao Mei departed and Wang Muzhen died, when the clansmen "bullied the widow and orphan, openly cutting down crops and trees," "carving up the fields and estates, stripping the stables of every ox and horse, and then seeking to partition the mansion, and because the concubine still dwelt there, they brought several men to forcibly seize and sell it"—all these details bring the folkways of the Ming and Qing dynasties vividly before our eyes, allowing us to feel them as if we were there.