Original Text
My sister-in-law's grandfather, Mr. Song Tao, was a scholar of the county. One day, lying ill in bed, he suddenly saw an official holding a government document and leading a horse with a white patch on its forehead, who approached and said, "Please, sir, come to take the examination." Mr. Song asked, "The academic examiner has not arrived; how can an examination be held so suddenly?" The official did not reply but only urged him repeatedly to set out. Mr. Song had no choice but to support himself and mount the horse to follow him, feeling that all the roads they traveled were utterly unfamiliar. Soon, they arrived at a city that seemed like an imperial capital. Before long, they entered a government office, where the palace halls were exceedingly lofty and magnificent. In the main hall sat over a dozen officials, most of whom Mr. Song did not recognize, knowing only that among them was Guan Yu, styled Guan Zhuangmu. Below the hall, beneath the eaves, were placed two desks and two stools; a scholar was already seated at the lower seat, so Mr. Song sat down next to him. On each desk were laid out paper and brushes. After a while, a scroll bearing the examination topic flew down from the hall. Mr. Song looked at it and saw eight characters written: "One person, two persons; with intention, without intention." After both of them had finished their essays, they presented their answers to the hall. In Mr. Song's essay was a line: "To do good with intention, though good be done, no reward should be given; to do evil without intention, though evil be done, no punishment may be imposed." The officials in the hall passed the essays around, praising them unceasingly. Then they summoned Mr. Song to the hall and said to him, "The region of Henan lacks a City God; you are well suited to take up this post." Only then did Mr. Song realize the truth; he kowtowed and wept, saying, "I dare not decline this great honor, but my aged mother is already over seventy years old, with no one to care for her. Please allow me to come and serve only after my mother has passed away." A figure resembling an emperor on the hall immediately ordered a check on the lifespan of Mr. Song's mother. A long-bearded official, holding a register of human lifespans, perused it and said, "Mr. Song's mother still has nine years of life remaining." As the officials hesitated, Lord Guan Yu said, "Let the scholar surnamed Zhang act as proxy for nine years, and then let him take over." So the emperor-like figure said to Mr. Song, "You should have taken office immediately, but in consideration of your filial piety, I grant you a nine-year leave. When the time comes, you will be summoned again." Then he spoke a few words of encouragement to the scholar Zhang. The two scholars kowtowed in gratitude and descended the hall together. Scholar Zhang clasped Mr. Song's hand and escorted him to the outskirts, introducing himself as a man from Changshan, surnamed Zhang, and presented Mr. Song with a poem as a parting gift. Mr. Song forgot most of the poem's lines, only recalling two verses: "With flowers and wine, spring ever abides; without candle or lamp, the night itself shines."
After Mr. Song mounted his horse, he bid farewell and departed. Returning home, he seemed to awaken abruptly from a deep dream, having already been dead for three days. His mother heard groaning from within the coffin and hastily helped him out; after half a day, Mr. Song could finally speak. He sent someone to Changshan to inquire, and indeed, a scholar named Zhang had died on that very day. Nine years later, his mother truly passed away. After burying her, Mr. Song bathed, prepared himself, entered his chamber, and died. His father-in-law's family lived within the western gate of the city, and on that day, they suddenly saw Mr. Song riding a splendidly adorned steed, followed by a retinue of carriages and servants, entering the inner hall to bow and take his leave. The entire household was astonished, unaware that Mr. Song had become a deity. His father-in-law sent someone to Mr. Song's hometown to investigate, only then learning that Mr. Song had already died.
Mr. Song once wrote his own brief biography, but unfortunately it was lost amid the chaos of war, and what is recorded here is merely an outline of the matter.
Commentary
In the various complex editions of Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, although the number of stories, their volumes, and the order of their arrangement differ, there is one constant: The Examination for City God has always been placed as the first story, whether in Pu Songling's original manuscript or in the different editorial stages by later generations. More notably, in the history of commentary on Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio, critics have placed great importance on its role as the opening piece: He Yin remarked, "A work of such magnitude begins with The Examination for City God, and the principle of rewarding the good and punishing the evil is thus revealed." Dan Minglun said, "This great literary work opens with this story to set forth its main theme."
In this tale, Pu Songling not only employs a narrative of near-death resurrection to expound the principle of rewarding good and punishing evil, but more importantly, through the maxim "Intentional good deeds, though virtuous, merit no reward; unintentional misdeeds, though harmful, incur no punishment," he elucidates the value system by which the characters are judged, articulating from a philosophical and aesthetic perspective the ideals embodied in Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. The line "With flowers and wine, spring ever abides; without candle or lamp, the night itself shines" subtly suggests an otherworldly setting while simultaneously revealing the author's serene and uplifting spirit. One may interpret this as a stoic composure amidst poverty and hardship, as an unyielding resilience in the face of an unfavorable official career, or, more profoundly, as the author's own breadth of mind—a tranquil and unhurried attitude toward life.