Original Text
By the banks of the Jing River lived a family named Shen, who were so poor that often they could not even light a fire to cook for an entire day. The husband and wife sat facing each other, unable to devise any good plan. The wife said, "There is no other way—you must go and rob!" Shen replied, "I am a descendant of scholars; if I cannot bring glory to my ancestors, but instead disgrace our family and dishonor our forebears, it would be better to starve like Bo Yi and preserve my integrity than to live by thievery like the great bandit Dao Zhi!" His wife retorted angrily, "Do you wish to live yet fear shame? In this world, there are only two paths for those who do not till the fields to eat. Since you cannot rob, I might as well become a prostitute!" Shen grew furious and quarreled with her. The wife went to bed in a huff. Shen thought to himself: As a man, unable to provide even two meals a day, driving his wife to thoughts of prostitution—better to die! He quietly rose, tied a rope to a tree in the yard, and hanged himself. Suddenly, he saw his father approaching, who exclaimed in alarm, "Foolish son! How could you come to this!" He cut the rope and admonished him, "Robbery is still permissible, but you must hide in a place where crops are lush. Do this once, and you will become wealthy; afterward, do not repeat it." In her sleep, the wife heard a thud and woke with a start. Calling her husband, she received no answer, so she lit a lamp and searched, finding the rope broken and Shen dead beneath the tree. Greatly startled, she hurriedly revived him. After a while, Shen regained consciousness, and she helped him to bed, her resentment gradually fading. The next morning, the wife feigned her husband's illness and begged some porridge from a neighbor, which she fed to Shen. After drinking it, he went out and returned at noon carrying a sack of rice. When his wife asked where it came from, Shen said, "My father's friends are all from great and noble families; I was once ashamed to beg from them, so I disdained to seek their help. As the ancients said, 'When a man is utterly destitute, he may do anything.' I have already resolved to become a robber—why should I care about honor or shame? You hurry and cook; I intend to follow your advice and go thieving." The wife suspected he was still brooding over her earlier words and speaking in anger, so she held her tongue and went out to wash the rice and prepare the meal.
After finishing his meal, Shen took a sturdy piece of wood, sharpened it into a club with an axe, and made to leave. His wife, seeing that he seemed truly determined, grabbed hold of him to stop him. Shen said, "It was you who urged me to do this; if matters go awry and you are implicated, do not regret it!" With that, he tore his sleeve free and departed. At dusk, Shen arrived at a neighboring village and concealed himself about a mile away. Suddenly, a torrential rain poured down, drenching him completely. Gazing into the distance, he spied a dense grove of trees and thought to take shelter there. Just then, a flash of lightning revealed that he was near the low wall of the village, and in the distance, it seemed there were travelers. Fearing discovery, he noticed a lush patch of crops beneath the wall and quickly burrowed into it, crouching in hiding. Before long, a man passed by, of imposing stature, and also entered the crop field. Shen, terrified, dared not stir, but fortunately the man veered sideways. Peeking stealthily, Shen saw him climb over the wall. Realizing that within the wall lay the home of a wealthy man named Kang, Shen concluded that this man must be a thief; once he emerged with his loot, Shen might claim a share. Yet he reconsidered: this fellow was so robust that if he asked politely and was refused, a fight would surely ensue. Judging himself no match for the man, he resolved to strike him down before he could defend himself. Having settled on this plan, Shen crouched by the wall and waited patiently. He waited until nearly cockcrow before the man vaulted back over the wall. Before his feet touched the ground, Shen sprang up and swung his club, striking him in the lower back. The man toppled at once, revealing himself to be a giant turtle with a mouth as large as a basin. Startled, Shen struck it several more times until it was dead.
It turned out that Old Man Kang had a daughter who was exceptionally virtuous and beautiful, and her parents cherished her dearly. One night, a man broke into her chamber, molesting and forcing himself upon her. Just as she was about to cry out, the man thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she fainted unconscious, allowing him to ravish her before he departed. Ashamed to tell anyone, the daughter only summoned many maidservants and old women, and had the doors and windows tightly shut. But when night fell and they slept, the door inexplicably opened by itself, and the man entered the room, causing everyone to fall into a stupor; he then violated all the maidservants and old women in turn. Thus, the people confided in each other, greatly alarmed, and reported it to Old Man Kang. He ordered his servants to take weapons and guard the perimeter of the young lady's embroidered tower, while those inside the room lit candles and sat vigil through the night. Around midnight, both those inside and outside suddenly fell asleep at the same time, and then, as if awakening from a dream, they saw the young lady lying naked on the bed, dazed and senseless, only coming to after a long while. Old Man Kang was furious but could do nothing. After several months, the daughter became emaciated, on the verge of death. Old Man Kang often told people, "Whoever can drive away this monster will be rewarded with three hundred taels of silver." Shen had also heard of Old Man Kang's offer of a reward for exorcising the fiend. That night, after killing the giant turtle, he realized that the one who had been plaguing the Kang family's daughter must be this creature, so he went to knock on the door and claim the reward. Old Man Kang was overjoyed, treated him as an honored guest, and had the dead turtle carried into the courtyard, where it was chopped into pieces. Old Man Kang insisted that Shen stay the night at his home, and the monster indeed vanished completely. Thus, he paid Shen the full reward, and Shen carried the silver back home.
His wife had been anxiously awaiting his return, worried because he had not come home the previous night. As soon as Shen entered the door, she hastily asked him what had happened. Shen said nothing, merely placing the silver on the bed. When his wife opened it, she nearly fainted from fright and demanded, "Have you truly turned to banditry?" Shen replied, "You drove me to this, and now you speak such words!" His wife wept, saying, "Last time I was only jesting with you. Now you have committed a capital crime, and I cannot bear to be implicated by your thievery! Let me die first!" With these words, she rushed out. Shen pursued her, laughing, and pulled her back into the room, recounting the entire sequence of events to her, whereupon she became joyful. From that day forward, Shen and his wife planned their business ventures, and their fortunes gradually grew prosperous.
The Chronicler of Strange Tales remarks: People need not fear poverty, but they should fear a lack of virtue. Those who conduct themselves with uprightness and integrity will not perish even when starving; even if they are not pitied by others, they are blessed by the gods and spirits. Some impoverished people in the world, upon seeing profit, forget righteousness, and upon seeing food, forget shame—others would not dare entrust them with even a single coin, so how could they ever earn the forgiveness of the gods and spirits!
In the county there lived a poor man named Yi, who as the twelfth month drew to a close still lacked a complete set of clothing. He thought to himself, "How can I pass the New Year in such a state?" Not daring to speak openly to his wife, he secretly took a white wooden club and went to hide in a cemetery, hoping to waylay some solitary traveler and rob him of his belongings. Yi waited bitterly but saw not a single soul; the biting wind in the pine forest chilled him to the bone, and he could hardly bear it. As despair began to set in, he suddenly saw a stooped figure approaching. Yi's heart leaped with joy, and he sprang out with his club, only to find an old man carrying a sack as he trudged along the road. The old man pleaded, "I truly have nothing of value. My family is without food, and I have just begged five measures of rice from my son-in-law." Yi snatched the rice away and then tried to strip the old man of his padded coat. The old man begged piteously, and Yi, taking pity on his age, let him go, returning home with the rice. His wife pressed him about where the rice came from, and Yi falsely claimed it was a gambling debt repaid. He thought to himself that this method was quite good, and the next night he went again. After waiting a short while, he saw a man carrying a wooden staff also enter the cemetery, crouch down, and peer outward, clearly a fellow in the same trade. Yi then sauntered out from behind a grave. The man asked in alarm, "Who are you?" Yi replied, "A passerby." The man asked, "Why do you not move on?" Yi said, "I am waiting for you!" The man could not help but laugh, and they both understood each other's intent, commiserating over their shared hunger and cold. The night was deep, and they had gained nothing; Yi wished to return home. The man said, "Though you practice this trade, you are still a novice. In the front village, a family is marrying off a daughter and has been preparing until midnight; the whole household must be exhausted. Come with me, and we will share whatever we get." Yi gladly agreed and followed him. They arrived at a house, and through the wall heard the sound of baking cakes, knowing the family was still awake, so they crouched by the wall to wait for an opportunity. Soon, someone opened the door and went out with a pole to fetch water; the two slipped inside. They saw a lamp still lit in the northern room, while the other rooms were dark. They heard an old woman say, "Elder sister, go to the eastern room and check your dowry; it is all in the chest—see if you forgot to lock it." Inside, a young girl's voice protested coyly, refusing to go. The two were secretly delighted and quietly crept to the eastern room, where they felt a large chest in the dark. They lifted the lid and reached in, finding it bottomless. The man said to Yi, "Get in!" Yi climbed inside, found a bundle, and handed it out. The man asked, "Is there anything else?" Yi replied, "Nothing." The man deceived him, saying, "Search again." Then he closed the chest, locked it, and fled. Yi, trapped inside, was frantic but could not get out. Soon, a lamp entered the room, and someone first shone it on the chest. They heard the old woman say, "Who has already locked it?" Then mother and daughter went to bed and blew out the candle. Yi, in desperation, imitated the sound of a rat gnawing clothes. The girl said, "There is a rat in the chest!" The old woman said, "Do not let it ruin your clothes. I am utterly exhausted; you get up and check yourself." The girl put on her clothes, rose, unlocked the chest, and lifted the lid. Yi leaped out abruptly, and the girl fell to the ground in fright. Yi opened the door and fled, though he gained nothing, he was secretly glad not to have been caught. News of the burglary at the house where the daughter was being married spread far and wide, and some suspected Yi. Yi, terrified, fled eastward over a hundred li and became a servant at an inn. After more than a year, gossip gradually subsided. Yi then brought his wife to live with him and never engaged in robbery again. This story was told by Yi himself, and because it resembles the tale of Shen, it is appended here.
Commentary
As the saying goes, "Poverty and lowliness make every matter sorrowful for a couple." These two tales reflect Pu Songling's sympathy and sorrow for the plight of the story's protagonists. The endings carry a certain comedic quality, yet they cannot alter the profound shock brought about by the tragedy of the era itself.
The French writer Victor Hugo once said in the preface to Les Misérables: "So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates hells on earth and complicates a destiny that is divine with human fatality; so long as the three problems of the age—the degradation of man by poverty, the ruin of woman by hunger, and the withering of children by darkness—remain unsolved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia may be possible, in other words, and from a still broader perspective, so long as ignorance and misery persist on this earth, books like this cannot be useless." Although Pu Songling and Hugo were born in different countries and eras, with differing understandings and depths of insight into these issues, we can still perceive the same humanitarian spirit emanating from their works.