Original Text
In Shaoxing, Zhejiang, there lived an elderly widow who spun thread by night. Suddenly, a young woman pushed open the door and entered, smiling as she said, "Aren't you tired, old mother?" The woman appeared to be about eighteen or nineteen, with a lovely face and dazzling attire. The widow asked in surprise, "Where have you come from, young lady?" The woman replied, "I took pity on you living alone, so I have come to keep you company." The widow suspected she might be a fugitive from some noble household and pressed her with questions. The woman said, "Do not be afraid, old mother. I am just like you, all alone in the world. I admire your cleanliness, so I have come, so that neither of us need be solitary—is that not well?" The widow then suspected she might be a fox spirit and hesitated in silence. The woman, however, climbed onto the bed herself and began to spin thread for the widow, saying, "Do not worry, old mother. I am also skilled at these tasks and will surely not add to your burden." The widow, seeing her gentle and endearing manner, was finally set at ease.
The night was deep, and the woman said to the old crone, "The bedding I brought is still outside the door; may I trouble you, when you go out to relieve yourself, to bring it in?" The old crone went out and indeed returned with a bundle of bedding. The woman untied it and spread it on the bed; the fabric, of unknown silk, was fragrant and incomparably smooth. The old crone also spread her own coarse cotton bedding and shared the bed with the woman. As soon as the woman loosened her garments, a strange fragrance filled the room. After they lay down, the old crone secretly thought, 'Meeting such a beautiful woman, what a pity I am not a man.' The woman laughed softly by the pillow and said, "Old mother of seventy, are you still entertaining such wild fancies?" The old crone replied, "Not at all." The woman said, "If not wild fancies, then why do you wish to be a man?" The old crone became even more convinced she was a fox spirit and grew very afraid. The woman laughed again and said, "You wish to be a man, yet why are you so afraid of me?" The old crone trembled even more, her legs shaking so that the bed quivered. The woman said, "Alas! With such a timid heart, you still wish to be a man! To tell you the truth, I am a celestial maiden, not here to harm you. As long as you do not speak of this rashly, I guarantee you will never lack for food or clothing." In the morning, the old crone knelt in worship at the foot of the bed. The woman extended her arm to help her rise; the skin of her arm was as delicate as pure white lard, exuding a fragrance, and the moment it touched, the old crone felt a great ease in her body. Her heart stirred, and again she entertained wild fancies. The woman mocked her, saying, "Old woman, you have only just stopped trembling, and where has your mind wandered now! If you were a man, you would surely die of passion." The old crone said, "If I were truly a man, how could I not die this very night!" From then on, the two got along most harmoniously, spinning and weaving together every day. The thread the woman spun was even, fine, and lustrous; the cloth she wove was as smooth and bright as brocade, selling for three times the price of ordinary cloth. Whenever the old crone went out, she would lock the door from the outside, and if anyone came to visit her, she would entertain them in another room. After half a year, no one knew of this matter.
Later, the old woman gradually let slip this matter to her relatives and friends, and the village maidens all begged her to arrange an introduction. The young woman reproached her, saying, "You have been careless with your words; I can no longer dwell here for long." The old woman regretted her indiscretion and deeply blamed herself. Yet the number of those seeking to meet the woman grew day by day, and some even tried to coerce the old woman through influence and power. Weeping, the old woman explained this to the young woman, who replied, "If they are merely sisters, it would be harmless to meet them, but I fear there may be unscrupulous persons among them, and I cannot escape humiliation." The old woman pleaded repeatedly, and only then did the young woman consent. The next day, a stream of elderly women and young girls came bearing incense and candles to pay their respects, crowding the path without end. The young woman grew weary of this, and regardless of rank or station, she would not speak with any of them, sitting silently and upright, allowing them to bow before her. Some young men in the village, hearing of her beauty, became utterly infatuated, but the old woman flatly refused them all audience.
There was a scholar named Fei, a renowned figure in the city, who heard of this matter and, exhausting his entire fortune, bribed the old woman heavily. The old woman agreed and pleaded on his behalf for the lady to grant him an audience. The lady, already aware of this, reproached her, saying, "You have sold me!" The old woman immediately prostrated herself and recounted the circumstances. The lady said, "You covet his wealth, but I am moved by his infatuation; I may see him once. However, the bond between you and me is already severed." The old woman kowtowed again. The lady arranged to meet him the next day. When Scholar Fei heard this, he was overjoyed, brought incense and candles, and upon arriving, first performed a grand bow. The lady spoke to him from behind a curtain, asking, "You have spent your entire fortune to see me; is there something you wish to say?" Scholar Fei replied, "I dare not harbor any improper thoughts; it is merely that beauties like Wang Qiang and Xi Shi are known only by hearsay. If you do not disdain my ignorance and allow me to broaden my vision by beholding your countenance, I shall be content. As for fortune or misfortune, they are predetermined, and I do not wish to know them." Suddenly, from within the curtain, the lady's face appeared, radiant and dazzling, with jade-like brows and vermilion lips, so clear that it seemed as if no curtain intervened. Scholar Fei's soul was entranced, and he involuntarily bowed low. When he rose after bowing, the curtain hung heavy and dark; only her voice could be heard, but her form was no longer visible. Scholar Fei felt a pang of disappointment, regretting that he had not seen the lower part of her body, when suddenly he noticed beneath the curtain a pair of tiny embroidered shoes, delicate and less than a palm's length. He bowed again. From within the curtain, a voice said, "Go back now! I am weary!"
The old woman invited Scholar Fei into another room, where she brewed tea to entertain him. Scholar Fei inscribed a poem titled "Song of the Southern Countryside" on the wall.
Dimly before the painted curtain, three-inch jade bamboo shoots ripple on waves; clearly touching the ground, lotus petals fall slender and fine, yet more pitiable when layered upon the double terrace. Flowers set off the phoenix-head curve, grasped within the hand one knows they are soft as silk; I wish only to transform into a butterfly and go to the hem of the skirt, to sniff the lingering fragrance and die sweetly even in death.
After finishing the inscription, he departed. The young woman, upon reading Fei Sheng's verses, was greatly displeased and said to the old woman, "I told you our bond was already severed, and now it is proven true." The old woman prostrated herself, kowtowing and begging for forgiveness. The young woman replied, "The fault is not entirely yours. In a moment of carelessness, I fell into the snare of passion, allowing my countenance to be seen, and thus suffered the defilement of lewd verses. This was entirely my own doing—what blame can be laid upon you? If I do not depart swiftly, I fear I shall become entangled in the web of love, unable to escape through countless tribulations." Thereupon, she bundled her clothes and bedding into a pack and left. The old woman chased after her, trying to detain her, but in the blink of an eye, she had vanished.
Commentary
This tale does not contain many bizarre or convoluted plots; it merely describes a widow who encounters a beautiful fox spirit at night and indulges in wild fantasies. Later, those who sought to meet the fox spirit came in an unending stream, and the local youths were especially stirred with infatuation. Yet after the fox spirit showed affection to a renowned scholar named Fei Sheng, she ultimately feared being ensnared in the web of love and drifted away. In exploring the theme of "appetite for food and sex is human nature," delving into sexual psychology, and expressing humanity's irresistible attraction to sensual desires, the story possesses distinctive features in its subject matter, offering both exploration and creativity.