Original Text
Yue Zhong was a native of Xi'an. His father died early, and his mother gave birth to him posthumously. His mother was a devout Buddhist who never touched wine or meat. As Yue Zhong grew up, he developed a fondness for drinking and feasting, secretly finding his mother's abstinence from meat and wine ridiculous. He often tried to tempt her with delicious meat dishes, but she would scold him for it. Later, his mother fell ill, and on her deathbed, she earnestly begged for meat. Unable to find any in time, Yue Zhong, in a moment of desperation, cut flesh from his left thigh and offered it to her. After eating it, her condition improved slightly, but she then regretted breaking her vows and starved herself to death. Yue Zhong mourned her even more deeply, and in his grief, he took a sharp knife and cut flesh from his right thigh, exposing the bone. His family rushed to save him, applying medicine and bandaging the wound, which soon healed. Thinking of his mother's lifelong suffering in chastity and her foolish devotion to Buddhism, Yue Zhong burned the Buddhist statues she had worshipped and set up a memorial tablet to honor her instead. Whenever he got drunk, he would weep bitterly before the tablet. At twenty, he married, still a virgin. Three days after the wedding, he told others, "A man and woman sharing a room is the filthiest thing in the world; I find no joy in it!" So he divorced his wife. His father-in-law, Gu Wenyuan, begged relatives to intercede and ask Yue Zhong to take his daughter back, but despite repeated pleas, Yue Zhong refused. After half a year, Gu Wenyuan had no choice but to let his daughter remarry. Yue Zhong lived alone for twenty years, becoming increasingly unrestrained: he drank with servants and actors alike; whenever neighbors or friends asked for help, he gave generously without hesitation; when someone said they lacked a pot for their daughter's wedding, he took the pot from his own stove and gave it away, then borrowed one from a neighbor to cook his own meals. Unscrupulous people, knowing his nature, often came to cheat him. Some, lacking gambling funds, would weep before him, claiming urgent debts from officials and threatening to sell their sons to pay, and Yue Zhong would hand over his tax money to them. When tax collectors later came demanding payment, he had to pawn his belongings to raise the silver. Thus, his family's fortunes declined more and more.
It turned out that during the prosperous days of Le Zhong's household, the younger members of the clan vied with each other to serve him; whatever goods the family possessed, Le Zhong allowed them to take as they pleased, without ever quarreling over it. But when his fortunes declined, those same youths rarely came to inquire after him. Le Zhong, being of an open and carefree nature, did not take this much to heart. One day, it happened to be the anniversary of his mother's death, and Le Zhong was stricken with illness, unable to visit her grave; he wished to ask a clansman to perform the rites in his stead, but all made excuses of other engagements and refused. Forced to offer wine and pay homage at home, he wept bitterly before his mother's spirit tablet, and the sorrow of having no heir lingered long in his heart, so that his sickness grew worse. In the midst of his troubled thoughts, he suddenly felt someone stroking him; opening his eyes a little, he saw it was his mother. Startled, he asked, "How is it that you have come?" His mother replied, "Only because there was no one to tend the grave, I came home to receive the offerings, and also to see how you fared." Le Zhong then inquired, "Where has Mother been dwelling all this time?" She answered, "In the Southern Sea." When she had finished caressing him, Le Zhong felt a coolness spread through his entire body; opening his eyes wide, he found no one around, and his illness was cured.
After Le Zhong recovered from his illness, he conceived the desire to make a pilgrimage to the South Sea. It happened that a neighboring village had formed an incense society to journey together to worship at the South Sea, so Le Zhong sold ten mu of land and, taking the money with him, requested to join their company. The members of the incense society found him unclean and all refused to let him join. Le Zhong then followed behind them on the journey. Along the way, Le Zhong continued to eat meat and drink wine, abstaining from no rich or pungent foods, which made the others despise him all the more. Taking advantage of his drunken slumber, they departed without bidding him farewell. Le Zhong was thus left to travel alone. When he reached Fujian, he encountered a friend who invited him to drink, and at the gathering there was a celebrated courtesan named Qionghua. When the topic of the South Sea pilgrimage arose, Qionghua expressed her willingness to accompany Le Zhong. Le Zhong was overjoyed and bade her quickly prepare her luggage, after which they set out together. Though the two shared meals and lodging, no improper intimacy occurred between them. When Le Zhong arrived at the South Sea, the members of the incense society, seeing him accompanied by a courtesan, mocked him all the more and deemed him unworthy to worship alongside them. Le Zhong and Qionghua understood their intent and waited until the others had completed their devotions before making their own offerings. When those others worshipped, they lamented that the Buddha showed no sign of favor. But when Le Zhong and Qionghua knelt in worship, suddenly the entire sea was covered with lotuses, each flower adorned with strings of pearls. Qionghua beheld the Bodhisattva within the lotuses, while Le Zhong saw his mother upon every blossom. He cried out in haste and rushed toward his mother, leaping into the flowers to follow her. The multitude then saw the myriad lotuses transform into a canopy of colored clouds, like brocade spreading across the sea. In a moment, the clouds stilled and the waves calmed, and all that had appeared vanished, while Le Zhong still stood upon the shore. He himself knew not how he had emerged from the sea, yet his clothes and shoes were not even damp. Gazing at the ocean, he wept aloud, his cries shaking the islands. Qionghua took his arm to comfort him, and then with a melancholy air they left the temple and hired a boat to journey northward.
On the way, a wealthy family hired Qionghua away, leaving Le Zhong to stay alone in the inn. A child of about eight or nine years old was begging there, but his appearance was not that of a beggar. Le Zhong questioned him closely and learned that he had been driven out by his stepmother. Le Zhong took pity on him, and the child clung to him, earnestly begging to be rescued from his suffering, so Le Zhong brought him along on the journey home. When asked his surname, the child said, "My name is A Xin, my surname is Yong, and my mother's maiden name was Gu. I once heard my mother say: she married into the Yong family six months before I was born, so I am originally of the Le family." Le Zhong was greatly startled, suspecting that his only marriage, which lasted but three days, could not have produced a son. He then asked where the Le family lived, and the child replied, "I do not know. But before my mother died, she gave me a letter, instructing me not to lose it." Le Zhong urgently asked for the letter, opened it, and saw that it was the divorce document he had written to the Gu family years ago. Startled, he exclaimed, "You are truly my son!" Calculating the child's birth date, it indeed matched, and he felt greatly comforted. However, his household funds dwindled day by day, and after two years, his fields were gradually sold off, until he could no longer afford to hire servants.
One day, father and son were cooking their own meal when suddenly a beautiful woman entered; upon looking, it was Qionghua. Le Zhong asked in surprise, "How did you come?" Qionghua smiled and said, "We have already been a false married couple, so why ask again? I did not return with you at first only because my old mother was still alive, but now she has passed. I thought that if I did not marry a man, I could not protect myself; if I married, I could not preserve my chastity. The plan that satisfied both was to follow you, so I have come from afar." Having said this, she removed her ornaments and prepared food for the child. Le Zhong was overjoyed. At night, father and son slept as usual in the same room, and another room was prepared for Qionghua. The son treated Qionghua as a mother, and Qionghua cared for the child well. When relatives and friends heard of this, they all sent food to Le Zhong, and the two accepted it happily. When guests came, Qionghua entertained them properly, and Le Zhong never asked where things came from. Gradually, Qionghua brought out gold, silver, and jewels to redeem Le Zhong's original property, widely purchased maids, servants, oxen, and horses, and the family's wealth grew increasingly prosperous. Le Zhong often said to Qionghua, "When I am drunk, you must avoid me and not let me see you." Qionghua smiled and agreed. One day, Le Zhong became very drunk and urgently called for Qionghua. Qionghua came out in splendid attire, and Le Zhong stared at her sidelong for a long time, then suddenly rejoiced greatly, dancing and waving his arms as if mad, shouting, "I have awakened!" The drunkenness instantly dissipated. He only felt that the world before his eyes was bright and clear, and the house he lived in had turned into a jade palace; after a while, the illusion faded. From then on, Le Zhong no longer went to the market to drink, but only sat and drank with Qionghua. Qionghua ate vegetarian food and accompanied him with tea instead of wine.
One day, Le Zhong, slightly tipsy from wine, asked Qionghua to massage his thigh, where the scars from a knife wound he had received years ago had transformed into two red lotus blossoms, faintly protruding from the flesh. Qionghua was curious, and Le Zhong said with a smile, "When you see these two flowers fully bloom, our twenty-year false marriage shall come to an end." Qionghua believed his words. After they had completed the wedding of their son A Xin, Qionghua gradually handed over the household affairs to her daughter-in-law and moved to another courtyard with Le Zhong. The daughter-in-law visited Qionghua once every three days and only reported matters of great difficulty. Le Zhong and Qionghua kept only two maidservants, one to warm the wine and one to brew tea. One day, Qionghua went to her son's residence, spoke at length with her daughter-in-law, and then they went together to see Le Zhong. Upon entering, they saw Le Zhong sitting barefoot on the bed. Hearing their voices, he opened his eyes and said with a smile, "It is well that you mother and son have come together!" After speaking, he closed his eyes again. Qionghua was startled and asked, "What are you doing?" She looked at his thigh and saw that the two lotus blossoms had fully bloomed. Reaching out to touch him, she found that Le Zhong had already breathed his last. Qionghua then pressed the two red lotus blossoms together with her hands and prayed, "I traveled a thousand li to follow you, which was no easy task. I have taught your son and daughter-in-law, which can be counted as some merit. Only two or three years remain—why can you not wait a little longer?" After a moment, Le Zhong suddenly opened his eyes and said with a smile, "You have your own affairs to attend to; why must you drag another person along as company? But there is no help for it; for your sake, I will stay a while longer." Qionghua released her hands, and the two red lotus blossoms closed again. Thus, they resumed their usual banter and laughter as before.
After another three years had passed, Qionghua was nearly forty years old, yet she still appeared as a woman in her twenties. Suddenly she said to Le Zhong, "When a person dies, others always handle the head and lift the feet—it is most unseemly and unclean." So she had the craftsmen make two coffins. A Xin asked in surprise what was happening, and Qionghua replied, "This matter is beyond your understanding." When the coffins were finished, Qionghua bathed and dressed herself, then told her son and daughter-in-law, "I am about to die." A Xin wept and said, "For all these years, it has been by Mother's efforts that we have not suffered hunger or cold. Mother has not yet enjoyed a moment of ease—why must you abandon your child and depart?" Qionghua said, "Your father planted the seeds of blessings, and his son reaps the harvest. Those servants, slaves, oxen, and horses were all brought by those who owed debts to repay your father; I have done nothing worthy of merit. I was originally a Celestial Maiden of Scattered Flowers, but because I once stirred with mortal thoughts, I was banished to the mortal world for over thirty years, and today my term is fulfilled." Having spoken, she stepped onto the wooden block and entered the coffin. When A Xin called to her again, Qionghua had already closed her eyes. A Xin wept and went to tell his father, only to find that his father had already stiffened at some unknown moment, his robes and cap neatly arranged. A Xin wailed bitterly, his heart broken with grief. He placed his father in the coffin and set it alongside Qionghua's in the main hall, leaving them unsealed for several days, hoping they might revive. Then a beam of light shot forth from between Le Zhong's thighs, illuminating the four walls. And from Qionghua's coffin, a dense, fragrant mist emanated, so strong that even the neighboring households could smell it. Only when the coffins were finally sealed did the fragrance and the light gradually fade away.
After Le Zhong and Qionghua were buried, the members of the Le clan, coveting their property, conspired together to drive away A Xin and brought a lawsuit to the local magistrate. The magistrate, unable to distinguish truth from falsehood, intended to divide half of the estate among the clan members. A Xin refused to accept this and appealed the case to the prefectural court, where it remained undecided for a long time. Earlier, the Gu family had married their daughter to the Yong family, but after more than a year, the Yong family drifted to Fujian and all news ceased. Old Gu, childless in his old age, pined for his daughter and went to his son-in-law's home, only to learn that his daughter had died and his grandson had been driven away. Gu filed a complaint with the authorities, and the Yong family, frightened, tried to bribe him with money, but Gu refused to accept it, insisting on finding his grandson. He searched everywhere but could not find A Xin. One day, as Gu happened to be walking on the road, he saw a carriage approaching and stepped aside to the roadside. A beautiful woman inside the carriage called out, "Are you not Old Gu?" Gu replied that he was. The woman said, "Your grandson is my son, and he is now with the Le family. Do not pursue the lawsuit. Your grandson is in trouble now, and you must go to him at once." Gu wanted to ask more, but the carriage had already sped away. Gu then took the bribe money from the Yong family and set out for Xi'an. When he arrived, the dispute over the Le family property was at its height. Gu presented himself at the court and testified in detail, recounting the time of his daughter's return from her husband's home, the date of her remarriage, and the year and month of her child's birth. The Le clan members were all beaten and expelled, and the case was settled. When they returned home and spoke of the day they saw the beautiful woman, it turned out to be the very day of Qionghua's death. A Xin moved Gu's household, provided him with a house, and gave him a maidservant. Gu, at over sixty years of age, fathered a son, whom A Xin cared for and raised.
The Chronicler of the Strange remarks: To abstain from meat and keep away from one's wife and children merely resembles the Buddha in outward form, but it is the pure and innocent heart that truly embodies the Buddha's nature. Le Zhong regarded the beautiful woman merely as a fragrant and pure companion on the path of enlightenment, not as a bedfellow for carnal union. They lived together for thirty years, seeming to have affection yet also seeming devoid of it—this is the true countenance of a Bodhisattva, how could the worldly multitude ever fathom it!
Commentary
Le Zhong is a character the author attempts to portray as one who embodies both the utmost filial piety of Confucianism and the wild Chan Buddhism. In him, there are many traits that ordinary people would consider a split personality. He is supremely filial, yet he does not obey his Buddhist mother; she is devoted to Buddhism, "abstaining from meat and wine," while he "loves drinking and feasting, secretly criticizing his mother in his heart," which actually violates the principle of "serving elders with obedience" from the Classic of Filial Piety. He treats his wife with ruthless indifference, yet he feels an instant kinship with the courtesan Shunhua. As for his faith in Buddhism, not only does he fail to show reverence for the Buddha, the Dharma, or the Sangha, but he even burns Buddhist statues, indulges in wine and meat, and takes a courtesan with him to Nanhai. The story ends with his sudden enlightenment and attainment of Buddhahood. Pu Songling praises him in the "Historian's Commentary," saying: "Abstaining from meat and wine is but the semblance of Buddhism; a pure and innocent heart is the true essence of Buddhism." "This is the true face of the Bodhisattva; how can worldly people fathom it?" All of this leaves one somewhat bewildered. The image and consciousness of Le Zhong are likely the product of the so-called wild Chan trend of thought during the Ming and Qing dynasties, and in terms of literary inheritance, he is clearly influenced by Lu Zhishen from the Water Margin.
Some readers have noted that the plot of Yue Zhong journeying to the South Sea in search of his mother bears a striking resemblance to the episode in The Sequel to The Plum in the Golden Vase where Liao Kong, the posthumous son of Ximen Qing, also travels to the South Sea to find his mother, suggesting that Pu Songling and Ding Yaokang, the author of The Sequel to The Plum in the Golden Vase, may have drawn upon each other's works.