Original Text
In Henan province there was a Taoist priest who went begging for alms in a village. After finishing his meal, he heard an oriole singing and warned the host to be careful of fire. When asked why, he said, "The bird says: 'A great fire is hard to extinguish, terrible!'" The crowd all laughed at him and took no precautions. The next day, a fire indeed broke out, spreading widely and burning several houses, and only then did the people marvel at the priest's divine insight. Those fond of excitement chased after him and called him an immortal. The priest said, "I merely understand the language of birds; how could I be an immortal?" Just then a spotted flower sparrow was calling in a tree, and the crowd asked what it was saying. The priest said, "This bird says: 'Born on the sixth, born on the sixth, will die on the fourteenth or sixteenth.' I deduce that a family has given birth to twins. Today is the tenth; within five or six days, they should both die." When the people inquired, they found that a family had indeed borne twin boys, and soon both died, the days of birth and death matching exactly what the priest had said.
The county magistrate, having heard of the Taoist's extraordinary abilities, summoned him and entertained him as a guest. At that moment, a flock of ducks passed by, and the magistrate asked what the ducks were saying. The Taoist replied, "The people in your honor's inner chambers must be quarreling. The ducks say, 'Enough, enough! You favor her! You favor her!'" The magistrate was deeply impressed, for indeed his wife and concubine had been arguing, and he had left in annoyance. Thereupon, the magistrate kept the Taoist in his yamen and treated him with great respect. From time to time, the Taoist interpreted the calls of birds, and most of his interpretations proved correct. However, the Taoist was plain-spoken and spoke freely without restraint. This magistrate was exceedingly avaricious; all local tributes meant for the yamen he converted into silver and pocketed. One day, as the magistrate and the Taoist were seated, another flock of ducks passed by, and the magistrate again asked what they were saying. The Taoist replied, "What they say today is different from before; they are settling accounts for you." Asked what they were calculating, he answered, "They say, 'One hundred and eight candles, one thousand eight hundred cinnabar.'" The magistrate blushed with shame, suspecting the Taoist was deliberately mocking him. The Taoist then requested to leave, but the magistrate would not allow it. A few days later, the magistrate hosted a banquet, and suddenly a cuckoo was heard calling. A guest asked what the bird was saying, and the Taoist replied, "The bird says, 'You will lose your office and go away.'" The guests turned pale with fright. The magistrate flew into a rage and immediately expelled the Taoist. Not long after, the magistrate was indeed dismissed from office for corruption. Alas! These were all warnings from immortals, yet it is a pity that those whose hearts are clouded refuse to awaken.
In the land of Qi, it was customary to call cicadas "Shaoqian," meaning gradual promotion, and among them, a green variety was called "Duliao," meaning all is finished. In a certain county, there lived a father and son, both scholars, who were about to take the annual examination when suddenly a cicada alighted on the father's lapel. The father joyfully said, "Shaoqian, an auspicious omen." A servant boy glanced at it and remarked, "What Shaoqian? It is merely a Duliao." The father and son were greatly displeased, and indeed, later they both failed the examination.
Commentary
This is a work that uses bird language to satirize corrupt officials. Using bird calls as material to weave a tale requires two prerequisites: first, the author must be familiar with the calls of different birds, possessing rich life experience; second, one needs extraordinary linguistic imagination to translate bird language into approximate human speech, then combine it to form a plot. The birds in this piece include the oriole, the black flower sparrow, the duck, and the cuckoo, and the translation of their bird language is almost as melodious and lifelike as the real thing.
If one were to use bird language from the very beginning to satirize corrupt officials, this tale would be nothing more than a brief jest. Pu Songling, however, writes layer by layer, starting with the oriole and the sparrow, drawing near from afar, and finally describing the Taoist as a guest in the county magistrate's home. Through the bird speech of the duck and the cuckoo, he mocks and ridicules the corrupt official's life, his embezzlement, and his downfall, thus revealing depth, introducing twists, and imbuing the story with the essence of a novel.