Original Text
In Yangxin County there lived an old man, a native of Caidian Village. His village lay some five or six li from the county seat, and together with his son he kept a roadside inn, offering lodging to traveling merchants. Several cart drivers, who came and went transporting goods, often stayed at the old man's establishment. One evening at dusk, four such drivers arrived together seeking shelter, but all the rooms in the old man's inn were already occupied. The four men could think of no other recourse and earnestly begged the host to find some way to accommodate them. The old man pondered for a moment and recalled a certain dwelling, but feared it might not suit the guests' wishes. The travelers said, "At this hour we ask only for a place to shield us from wind and rain—how could we be choosy?" Now it happened that the old man's daughter-in-law had recently passed away, and her corpse lay in state in that very room; his son had gone out to purchase wood for a coffin and had not yet returned. The old man, realizing the chamber serving as a funeral hall was quiet and empty, led the guests through the lanes and alleys to that place.
Upon entering the room, they saw a dim oil lamp flickering on a wooden table, behind which hung a curtain over the deathbed, with a paper quilt covering the deceased. Looking into the inner chamber, there was a large communal bed. The four travelers, exhausted from their journey, lay down and soon fell into a deep slumber, snoring loudly. Only one guest remained in a half-sleeping, half-waking state when he suddenly heard a rustling sound from the deathbed. He quickly opened his eyes, and the lamplight before the deathbed illuminated everything clearly: he saw the female corpse lift the paper quilt, sit up, and after a moment, descend from the bed, slowly walking into the bedroom. Her face was pale yellow, with a strip of raw silk tied around her forehead. She approached the bed, leaned down, and blew breath one by one upon the three sleeping guests. The guest who was still awake, terrified that she might blow on him, stealthily pulled the quilt over his head and held his breath, listening to her movements. Before long, the female corpse indeed came to him and blew breath upon him as she had done to the others. The guest felt her leave the bedroom, and soon heard the rustling of the paper quilt again. Peeking out, he saw her lying stiff as before. Overcome with fear, he dared not make a sound, secretly kicking his companions, but they remained motionless. He pondered desperately, finding no recourse, and thought it best to dress and flee. As he sat up to put on his clothes, the rustling sound resumed. Frightened, he lay back down, pulling the quilt over his head. He felt the female corpse approach again, blowing on him several times before departing. Soon, he heard the deathbed stir, knowing she had lain back down. Slowly reaching out from under the quilt, he found his trousers, hastily put them on, and fled barefoot. The female corpse also sat up, as if to pursue him. But by the time she left the curtain around the deathbed, the guest had already opened the door and escaped. She chased after him. He ran and shouted, but no one in the village was awakened. He thought to knock on the innkeeper's door but feared being caught if he slowed. So he dashed desperately toward the road leading to the county town. Reaching the eastern outskirts, he spied a temple and heard the sound of a wooden fish being struck within, so he urgently knocked on the temple gate. The monk inside, startled by his frantic behavior, hesitated to open the door. At that moment, the female corpse arrived, only a foot behind him. The guest grew even more terrified and anxious. Outside the temple gate stood a poplar tree with a trunk four or five spans thick. The guest hid behind it; when the corpse lunged right, he dodged left; when she lunged left, he dodged right. The corpse grew more furious, but both gradually tired. She stopped and stood still. The guest, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, cowered behind the tree. Suddenly, the corpse lunged forward, extending both arms around the trunk to grasp him. The guest fell to the ground in shock. Unable to reach him, the corpse embraced the tree and gradually stiffened.
The monk in the temple had been eavesdropping for a long time, and only when he heard no further sound did he slowly emerge. He saw the guest lying on the ground, and upon holding up a lamp to examine him, it seemed as though he were dead, yet there was still a faint warmth at his heart. Thus the monk carried the guest into the temple, and after a night, the guest finally regained consciousness. The Daoist gave him some hot water to drink and asked about the cause of the matter, whereupon the guest recounted the entire affair in full detail. By then, the morning bell had already tolled, and in the dim light of dawn, the Daoist went to inspect the white poplar tree, where he indeed saw a female corpse. The monk was greatly alarmed and reported the matter to the county magistrate. The magistrate came personally to investigate, ordering men to pull the corpse's hands from the tree, but the grip was so firm that they could not pry them loose. Upon closer examination, it was found that the four fingers of each of the corpse's hands were curled like hooks, with the nails deeply embedded into the tree trunk. The magistrate then had several men pull together with all their might, and only then did they manage to detach the corpse from the tree. The holes left by the fingers in the tree were like those bored by a chisel. The magistrate sent a constable to inquire at the old man's home, where there was already great turmoil over the missing corpse and the guest's sudden death. The constable explained the situation to the old man, who then followed him back and had the corpse carried home. The guest wept and said to the magistrate, "The four of us set out together, and now I alone must return—how can this be believed by the villagers?" The magistrate thereupon wrote a certificate for him, bestowed some gifts, and sent him on his way.
Commentary
This is a tale of terror concerning what the common folk call "sudden corpse rising."
The ghosts in "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio" can generally be divided into two categories: one is the emotional-ethical type, where ghosts are distinguished by gender, age, wisdom, and folly, serving as incarnations of real people, possessing all human ethical attributes and emotions; the other is the death-terror type, existing as the antithesis of human life, irreconcilably hostile to humans, ferocious and terrifying, symbolizing death itself.
The artistic expression of "The Corpse's Transformation" is quite unique within Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio. Apart from a single sentence at both the beginning and the end, the entire story contains no dialogue; the plot is entirely narrated through the sensations and actions of a small peddler, resembling a silent play. The story mobilizes all of the human senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and mind—to display its terrifying atmosphere: "Entering his room, the lamp was dim on the table," "The light before the spirit tablet shone clearly," and the female corpse's "face was a pale golden color"—these are seen by the eyes; "A rustling sound came from the deathbed," "He heard the rustling of the paper shroud," and "He held his breath, suppressed his swallowing, and listened"—these are heard by the ears; "She blew on him as she had on the other guests," "He felt the woman come again, blowing several times in succession before leaving"—these are felt by the body; "The guest was greatly terrified, fearing she would reach him," and "Thinking there was no other plan, it was better to dress and flee"—these are conceived by the mind. In the peddler's process of "secretly pulling the quilt over his head, holding his breath, suppressing his swallowing, and listening," and later in his flight from the pursuing female ghost, the peddler relies entirely on bodily sensations and mental awareness, rather than his eyes, to perceive the ghost's actions and escape the chase of death. Due to this cognitive deficiency and sense of unfamiliarity, the mystery and terror are further heightened. The plot's twists and turns, the atmosphere's rendering, the rhythm's urgency, and the language's vividness are so startling and horrifying that, as Feng Zhenluan remarked, "Reading this late at night... makes one's hair stand on end."