Original Text
On the fifth day of the fifth month, the Dragon Boat Festival, in the regions of Wu and Yue there was a custom of racing dragon boats. They would split and hollow out a log, shape it like a dragon, paint it with scales, and adorn it with gold, green, and blue colors. Upon it were carved ridges and red railings, while the sails and flags were all made of brocade. The stern was fashioned like a dragon's tail, rising over ten feet high, with a plank suspended by cloth ropes. A child would sit on this plank, tumbling and wrestling, performing all manner of clever tricks. Yet beneath the plank lay the river waters, fraught with danger, and a misstep could send the child plunging in. Thus, when selecting such a child, they would first bribe the parents with gold, training the boy in advance, with the understanding that if he fell into the water and died, there would be no recourse. In Suzhou, however, they would place beautiful singing girls on the dragon boats, which differed from this practice.
In Zhenjiang, there was a child named Jiang Aduan, who at only seven years of age was nimble and quick-witted, with a strange cleverness that none could surpass; his fame and reputation grew daily, and he was still employed at sixteen. One day, as his boat reached the foot of Gold Mountain, he fell into the water and drowned. Old Mrs. Jiang had only this one son, and could do nothing but weep bitterly. Aduan himself did not yet know that he was dead; two men led him forward, and when he looked about, he saw that beneath the water there was an entirely different realm, and turning back, he saw only encircling currents and waves standing like walls all around. After a while, a palace appeared before him, and within sat a figure wearing a helmet. The two men said, "This is the Dragon Lair Lord," and bade Aduan bow to him. The Dragon Lair Lord said with a kindly countenance, "Given Aduan's skill, he may enter the Willow Branch Department." Then they brought Aduan to a place, a great hall enclosed on all sides. As Aduan walked up the eastern corridor, some youths came out to greet him, all about thirteen or fourteen years of age. Soon an old woman arrived, whom everyone called Old Xie. Old Xie sat down and bade Aduan perform his art. When he had finished, she taught him the "Qiantang Flying Thunder" dance and the "Dongting Gentle Breeze" melody. Then came the sound of drums and gongs, and from every courtyard arose a clamor. After a while, the sounds from all the courtyards subsided. Old Xie, fearing that Aduan might not quickly master the skills, alone kept chattering and instructing him, but Aduan, after a single rehearsal, already understood everything clearly. Old Xie said joyfully, "With this child I have obtained, he is truly no less than Evening Cloud."
The next day, Dragon Lair Lord inspected the various troupes, and all assembled together. First, he examined the Yecha Troupe; its members had faces like demons and wore garments of fish skin. They struck large gongs four feet in circumference and beat drums so huge that four men could barely encircle them, the sound like thunder, so clamorous that it was unbearable to listen. When they began to dance, turbulent waves surged and flowed across the air, and now and then a star-spark fell, extinguishing upon touching the ground. Dragon Lair Lord hastily ordered them to stop and commanded the Young Oriole Troupe to perform. The Young Oriole Troupe consisted entirely of beautiful maidens of sixteen or seventeen, and their sheng music was exquisite and delicate. In an instant, a gentle breeze arose, the waves grew calm, and the water gradually congealed into a crystal-clear world, bright above and below. After the inspection, they all withdrew to stand at the western steps. Next came the Swallow Troupe, composed of young girls not yet fully grown. Among them was a maiden of about fourteen or fifteen, who, waving her sleeves and tilting her head, performed the "Heavenly Maiden Scattering Flowers" dance. She fluttered lightly into the air, and from her lapels, sleeves, stockings, and shoes, five-colored blossoms fell, drifting with the wind and covering the entire courtyard. When the dance ended, she followed the Swallow Troupe to stand at the western steps. A Duan, watching from the side, felt a deep fondness for her. Upon asking a fellow troupe member, he learned her name was Wan Xia. Shortly after, Dragon Lair Lord summoned the Willow Branch Troupe. He specially examined A Duan, who danced before him, his joy and anger shifting with the melody and his movements keeping perfect time with the rhythm. Dragon Lair Lord praised his quick wit and understanding, bestowing upon him a five-colored patterned robe and a fish-whisker-shaped golden headband set with a luminous pearl. A Duan bowed in gratitude for the gift and also went to stand with his troupe at the western steps. From the crowd, A Duan gazed at Wan Xia from afar, and she gazed back at him. After a while, A Duan slowly moved northward away from his troupe, and Wan Xia gradually drifted southward from hers. They were but a few steps apart, yet strict rules forbade them from mingling, so they could only exchange longing looks and yearn in their hearts. Soon after, the Butterfly Troupe was examined, with boys and girls dancing in pairs, all of the same height, age, and clothing color. When all troupes had been inspected, they filed out one after another. The Willow Branch Troupe followed the Swallow Troupe, and A Duan hurried to the front, while Wan Xia had already fallen behind. She turned to look at him and deliberately dropped a coral hairpin; A Duan quickly picked it up and tucked it into his sleeve.
After Aduan returned, he fell ill from longing, unable to eat or sleep peacefully. Old Jie brought him delicious food and visited three or four times daily, tending to him with deep care, but his condition showed no improvement. Greatly worried yet helpless, she said, "The King of Wujiang's birthday is near—what can be done!" At dusk, a child came, sat on the bed, and spoke with Aduan, claiming, "I am from the Butterfly Department." Then he slowly asked, "Your illness is for Wanxia, is it not?" Aduan asked in surprise, "How do you know?" The child smiled and said, "Wanxia is just like you." Aduan sat up sorrowfully and asked the child for a remedy. The child asked, "Can you still walk?" Aduan replied, "I can barely manage on my own." The child helped him out, led him south through a gate, turned west, and opened two more doors. There, several acres of lotus flowers grew on flat ground, leaves as broad as mats, blossoms as large as umbrellas, fallen petals piled a foot thick beneath the stems. The child led him into the lotus grove and said, "Sit here," then departed. After a while, a beautiful woman parted the lotus and entered—it was Wanxia. Overjoyed at their reunion, they recounted their longing and shared their stories. They used stones to press down the lotus leaves as a screen, spread the petals evenly on the ground, and lay together in joyful intimacy. They agreed to meet daily after sunset, then parted. Aduan returned, and his illness soon healed. From then on, they met once each day in the lotus field.
After several days, they accompanied Dragon Lair Lord to offer birthday felicitations to the King of Wujiang. Following the celebration, all the troupes returned, save only Wanxia and a maiden from the Oriole Breast troupe, who were detained in the palace to teach dancing. Months passed without tidings, and A Duan grew despondent and lost. However, Old Jie traveled daily between the Wujiang mansion, and A Duan, feigning that Wanxia was his cousin, begged her to take him along, hoping for a glimpse of his beloved. He lingered for days at the King of Wujiang's gate, but the palace rules were stern and strict; Wanxia, suffering from her confinement, could not emerge, and A Duan had no choice but to return in dejection. Another month or more passed, and A Duan, consumed by longing, was nearly dead from despair. One day, Old Jie entered his chamber and said mournfully, "Alas! Wanxia has thrown herself into the river and perished!" A Duan was struck with horror, tears streaming beyond his control. He then destroyed his cap, tore his garments, and concealed gold and pearls upon his person, resolved to die with her. But when he reached the river, the waters stood like a wall, and no matter how he battered his head, he could not penetrate them. Thinking to return, he feared the crime of ruining his cap and clothes would bring heavier punishment. His wits exhausted, sweat poured down to his heels. Suddenly, he spied a great tree beneath the wall; climbing it like an ape, he gradually reached the topmost branch, then leaped with all his might. By fortune, he was not wetted, and found himself floating upon the surface. Unwittingly, it seemed he had arrived in the mortal world, and he drifted onward. After a while, he reached the shore, rested a little by the riverbank, and suddenly recalled his aged mother. He then took a boat and departed. Upon reaching his hometown, he gazed around at the houses, as if in a different life. Struggling to his home, he suddenly heard a woman's voice within the window say, "Your son has returned." The voice sounded like Wanxia's. In a moment, she emerged together with A Duan's mother, and indeed it was Wanxia. Then their joy surpassed their sorrow, while his mother was both grieved and doubtful, astonished and delighted, her emotions taking every form.
It turned out that Wanxia, while in the Prince of Wu's household in Jiangdu, felt the stirring of the child in her womb; the Dragon Palace's laws were strict and severe, and she feared that if she gave birth sooner or later, it would bring calamity upon her, subjecting her to punishment, and she could not even see Aduan again. Thus, she sought only death and leaped into the river. Her body floated up, bobbing amid the waves. By chance, a passenger boat passed by, and they rescued her, asking where she lived. Wanxia had originally been a famous courtesan in Suzhou, who had drowned, and her body had never been found. She thought she could not return to the brothel, so she said, "The Jiang family in Zhenjiang is my husband's household." The people on the passenger boat then hired a small boat for her and sent her to the Jiang family. Old Madam Jiang suspected it was a mistake, but Wanxia insisted it was not, and she told the old woman the full truth. Old Madam Jiang, seeing her graceful and lovely, was quite fond of her, but worried that she was too young and would surely not remain a widow for life. Yet Wanxia was filial and respectful, and seeing the family's poverty, she forcibly removed her precious ornaments and sold them for tens of thousands of cash. Old Madam Jiang, finding her truly without second thoughts, was greatly pleased. However, since her son was not at home, she feared that if Wanxia suddenly gave birth, the relatives and neighbors would not believe her, so she discussed it with Wanxia. Wanxia said, "Mother, as long as you have a true grandson, why must others know?" Old Madam Jiang then felt at ease. Just then, Aduan returned, and Wanxia was overjoyed. Old Madam Jiang also suspected that her son had not died, and secretly opened his grave, but the bones were still there; she then questioned Aduan about this, and Aduan finally realized the truth. But he feared that Wanxia would loathe him for not being human, so he urged his mother to say nothing more. The mother agreed. She then told the villagers that the body found earlier was not her son's, but she remained anxious that Wanxia might not bear a child. Before long, Wanxia gave birth to a boy, who looked no different from an ordinary child, and the mother was delighted. As time passed, Wanxia gradually sensed that Aduan was not human, and said, "Why did you not tell me sooner! Any ghost that wears the Dragon Palace's robes, after forty-nine days, its soul and spirit will solidify, becoming no different from a living person. If one could obtain the Dragon's Horn Glue from the palace, it could rejoin the bones and grow flesh; it's a pity we could not buy it sooner."
A Duan sold his pearls, and a foreign merchant offered a million for them, so the Jiang family became exceedingly wealthy. It happened that Mother Jiang's birthday arrived, and the couple danced and sang together, offering wine to her in celebration. This matter reached the Prince of Huai's residence. The Prince of Huai wished to seize Wanxia by force. A Duan, greatly frightened, went to see the Prince and stated, "We are both ghosts." Upon examination, indeed they cast no shadow, so the Prince believed him and ceased his attempts. He only sent palace maids to the separate courtyard for Wanxia to teach her skills. Wanxia used turtle urine to disfigure her face before presenting herself to the Prince. After three months of instruction, she ultimately left without having fully imparted all her arts.
Commentary
In the traditional Chinese artistic system, especially during the Ming and Qing dynasties, dance was not held in high regard by society, being considered a lowly profession for entertainment, and dancers were regarded as dancing girls, jesters, and musicians, living at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Therefore, in Chinese literary works, dance could be described and appreciated, but their lives were rarely reflected, their dignity seldom acknowledged, and works that positively depicted their love stories were as scarce as morning stars. In this sense, "Wan Xia" (Evening Glow) is likely the first novel in ancient Chinese literature to positively portray the lives of dancers.
Since the author places the protagonists' living environment not in real life but within the Dragon Palace, the existence and love of the male and female dancers are imbued with a beautiful fairy-tale quality. From the inception of their love to its consummation, A Duan and Wan Xia possess both the innocent naivety of young lovers and the artistic grace of dancers; their secret rendezvous are as enchanting as a celestial realm, truly a match made in heaven: "There were several acres of lotus flowers, all growing on level ground, with leaves as large as mats and blossoms as big as canopies, fallen petals piled a foot deep beneath the stems. The boy led them inside, saying, 'Sit here for a while,' then departed. Shortly, a beautiful woman parted the lotus flowers and entered—it was Wan Xia. They were overjoyed to see each other, exchanged words of longing, and briefly recounted their lives. Then they used a stone to press down the lotus canopy so it tilted, perfectly shielding them, and evenly spread the lotus petals to make a cushion, happily embracing in intimacy. After pledging their future meetings, they set the sunset as their signal and parted. When A Duan returned, his illness soon healed. From then on, the two met daily in the lotus field." This lyrical description reveals Pu Songling's praise for human nature and love, ranking among the most beautiful passages in Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio.