Original Text
Duan Ruihuan was a wealthy man of Daming Prefecture, who at forty years of age still had no son. His wife, Lian, was exceedingly jealous, so that he dared not even take a concubine. He had an illicit affair with a maidservant, which Lian discovered; she had the girl flogged several hundred times and then sold her to a family named Luan in Hejian Prefecture. As Duan grew older, his nephews came daily to borrow money, and if a single word displeased them, they would speak to him harshly and with malice. Duan thought that since he could not satisfy all their demands, it would be better to adopt one nephew as his son, but the nephews obstructed him, and though Lian was fierce, she could do nothing, and only then deeply regretted that she had not allowed her husband to take a concubine. She said angrily, "The old man is over sixty—how can it be said he cannot father a boy!" So she bought two concubines and let her husband live with them without interference. After a little more than a year, both concubines became pregnant, and the whole household rejoiced. Thus the atmosphere in the family gradually eased. Whenever the nephews came again to seize things by force, they were cursed and driven away. Soon, one concubine gave birth to a daughter, and the other bore a son who died. The couple were greatly disappointed. After another year or so, Duan Ruihuan suffered a stroke and became paralyzed, confined to his bed. The nephews grew even more audacious, vying to take away the cattle, horses, and furniture from the house. When Lian scolded them, they answered her with sarcasm. She could do nothing and wept all day long. Duan's illness worsened, and he soon died. The nephews gathered before his coffin to discuss dividing his estate. Though Lian was stricken with grief, she could not stop them; she only wished to keep one estate to support the old and young, but the nephews would not agree. Lian said, "Will you not leave even an inch of land? Do you want me, an old woman, and the wailing infant to starve to death?" After days of quarreling without resolution, Lian could only weep in fury and beat her own face. Suddenly, a guest entered to offer condolences, went straight to the mourning hall, and wept prostrating himself, fulfilling all the rites of mourning. After finishing his lamentations, he sat down on the mat where the children of the deceased kept vigil. The crowd asked who he was, and the guest said, "The deceased is my father." The people were even more astonished, and the guest slowly began to tell his story.
It turned out that the maidservant sold by Lian to the Luan family gave birth to a son five or six months later, named Huai, whom the Luans raised as their own. At eighteen, Huai entered the county school. After Luan died, his sons divided the family property but did not regard Huai as a descendant of the Luan line. Huai asked his mother about this and learned the truth, saying, "Since I have no connection to the Luan family, I have my own ancestral temple; why should I covet a few hundred acres of another's land here?" He then rode to the Duan family, but Duan Ruihuan had already died. Huai spoke with reason and evidence, truly convincing. Lian, in her anger and bitterness, heard Huai's account and was overjoyed, walking straight out to say, "Now I have a son! The cattle and other goods you borrowed, return them all to me properly; otherwise, I will take you to the authorities!" The nephews exchanged glances, their faces changing color, and slowly dispersed. Huai then brought his wife back to observe mourning for his father. The nephews, resentful, plotted together to drive Huai away. Huai, learning of this, said, "The Luan family does not treat me as one of their own, and the Duan family does not treat me as one of theirs; where am I to go?" With that, he angrily prepared to confront them in court, but relatives mediated, and the nephews ceased their trouble. However, Lian, because the nephews had not yet returned the seized cattle, refused to let the matter rest. Huai advised her to drop it. Lian said, "It is not for the cattle, but my heart is full of resentment; your father was angered to death by them, and I endured it only because I had no son. Now I have a son; what is there to fear? You do not know the full story of what happened before; let me go to court and confront them myself." Huai strongly tried to stop her, but Lian would not listen; she wrote a complaint and filed it with the county magistrate. The magistrate summoned the Duan nephews to court and interrogated them. Lian spoke with righteous indignation, her words sorrowful and flowing like a spring. The magistrate, moved by her, punished the nephews and recovered the stolen goods. Lian returned home, called together the nephews who had not participated in the plunder, and distributed the recovered property among them. Lian lived to over seventy, and on her deathbed, she called her daughter and daughter-in-law to her and instructed, "Remember this: if you have not borne a son by thirty, you should pawn your jewelry and take a concubine for your husband. The suffering of being without a son is truly unbearable!"
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: Although Lady Lian was naturally prone to jealousy, she was able to reform swiftly, and it is no wonder that Heaven granted her offspring, thereby vindicating her righteousness. Observing her impassioned and resolute demeanor, alas! She may well be regarded as a heroine among women!
In Jinan there lived a man named Jiang Jia, whose wife, née Mao, was barren but exceedingly jealous. His sister-in-law often advised her to let her husband take a concubine, but she refused, saying, "I would rather die without an heir than suffer the torment of a little fox spirit!" As Jiang Jia approached forty, he grew deeply troubled by his lack of a son to carry on the family line. He thought of adopting his elder brother's son, and the brother and sister-in-law agreed, but they deliberately delayed the matter. Whenever the boy came to his uncle's house, Jiang Jia and his wife would treat him to good food and ask, "Would you like to come and live with us?" The child always said yes. But Jiang Jia's brother secretly instructed his son, "If they ask again, say you are unwilling. If they ask why, reply, 'When you are dead, all your land and property will be mine anyway—why should I worry?'" One day, Jiang Jia went on a long business trip, and his nephew came again. Mao asked him the same question, and the boy answered as his father had taught him. Mao flew into a rage and cried, "So you and your mother have been scheming for our property all along! You have miscalculated!" With that, she drove the boy out and immediately summoned a matchmaker to buy a concubine for her husband. When Jiang Jia returned, a maidservant was for sale, but the price was high, and even if Mao sold everything in the house, she could not raise enough. It seemed the deal would fall through. Fearing that Mao might change her mind if delayed, Jiang Jia's brother secretly gave the money to the matchmaker, pretending she had borrowed it to seal the bargain. Mao was overjoyed and bought the maidservant. She then told her husband how her brother-in-law's family had coveted their property, and Jiang Jia, furious, cut off all relations with his brother. Over a year later, the concubine gave birth to a son. Jiang Jia and Mao were delighted. Mao said, "The matchmaker borrowed money from someone, and it has been over a year without repayment. We must not forget this great kindness. Now that the child is born, we should repay the debt promptly!" So Jiang Jia took the money to the matchmaker's house. She laughed and said, "You should thank your brother instead. I am a poor old woman—who would dare lend me a single coin?" Then she told him the truth. Jiang Jia suddenly understood and returned home to tell Mao. Both were moved to tears. They prepared a feast and invited the brother and sister-in-law, and the couple knelt before them, offering the money. The brother refused it, and the whole family drank together joyfully before parting. In the end, Jiang Jia had three sons.
Commentary
This is a highly didactic story, its central message being the dying words of Duan to her younger female relatives: "Let this be remembered by you all: if after thirty years of marriage you have borne no son, you must pawn your hairpins and earrings to secure a concubine for your husband. The plight of being without a son is truly unbearable!"
The matter of offspring was a pivotal issue in China's patriarchal society, where the saying goes, "There are three unfilial acts, and having no posterity is the greatest." Why was it the greatest? To put it plainly, it was because it served as the linchpin for the redistribution of power and property within the clan system. When Duan had no heirs, the questions of his care in old age and the fate of his estate after death became grave concerns; yet once a child appeared, even if illegitimate, the Duan family's wealth was instantly secured as immovably as a mountain in a storm. The tale also reflects the position of women in feudal society: though Duan had daughters, they had no voice in the redistribution of his property after his death. A concubine in the household, besides being her husband's sexual partner, served merely as an additional tool for bearing sons.