Nie Xiaoqian

Ning Caichen was a man from Zhejiang. Generous and straightforward, upright and self-respecting, he often said to others: 'In my life, I have never had a second woman.'

He happened to go to Jinhua, and arriving at the northern suburb, he unpacked his luggage at a temple. The halls and pagodas in the temple were magnificent, but overgrown with wormwood as tall as a man, as if no one had ever set foot there. The monks' quarters to the east and west had their double doors left ajar; only a small chamber to the south was locked with a bolt as if new. He also looked at the eastern corner of the hall: tall bamboos as thick as a handful, and below the steps a large pond where wild lotus was already in bloom. He was quite pleased with the secluded quietness. It happened that the examiner was on his rounds, and lodgings in the city were expensive, so he thought to stay here for a while, and thus strolled about waiting for the monks to return.

As dusk fell, a scholar came and opened the southern door. Ning hastened to greet him and told him his intention. The scholar said, 'There is no master here; I too am lodging temporarily. If you can endure this desolate place, and favor me with your instruction morning and evening, I would be most fortunate.' Ning was delighted, spread straw for a bed, propped up a plank for a table, and made plans for a long stay.

That night the moon was bright and pure, its clear light like water. The two sat knee to knee in the temple corridor and exchanged names. The scholar said, 'My surname is Yan, and my style is Chixia.' Ning suspected he was a candidate for the examinations, but listening to his accent, it was quite unlike that of Zhejiang. When questioned, he said, 'I am a man from Shaanxi.' His speech was very simple and sincere. Soon they had exhausted their conversation, so they bowed farewell and returned to their beds.

Ning, being in new lodgings, could not sleep for a long time. He heard murmuring from the north of the house, as if there were household members. He rose, crouched beneath the stone window of the north wall, and peeped through a crack. He saw a small courtyard beyond a low wall, where there was a woman of about forty, and an old woman in a dark red gown, wearing a large hairpin, hunchbacked and decrepit, talking together in the moonlight.

The woman said, 'Why has Xiaoqian not come for so long?' The old woman said, 'She is probably almost here.' The woman said, 'I hope she has no complaints against you, grandmother?' The old woman said, 'I have heard none, but she seems somewhat downcast.' The woman said, 'The slave girl should not be treated too kindly!'

Before she had finished speaking, a girl of seventeen or eighteen came, appearing surpassingly beautiful. The old woman laughed and said, 'We were just talking about you behind your back, and here you come, little sly demon, without a sound. Luckily we were not speaking ill of you.' Then she said, 'This young lady is so lovely, she looks like a figure in a painting. If I were a man, I would have my soul stolen away.' The girl said, 'If you, grandmother, do not praise me, who else will say anything good?' The woman and the girl then said something inaudible. Ning thought they were the womenfolk of a neighbor, so he lay down and listened no more. After a while, all was silent.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he sensed someone entering his chamber. He rose hastily to look—it was the girl from the northern courtyard. Startled, he asked her. The girl laughed and said, 'On this moonlit night, unable to sleep, I wish to share your bed.'

Ning straightened his countenance and said, 'You guard against gossip, and I fear people's talk; one false step, and the path of honor and shame is lost.'

The girl said, 'At night no one knows.' Ning scolded her again. She hesitated as if about to speak further, but Ning shouted, 'Go at once! Otherwise, I will call the student in the southern chamber to know of this.' The girl, frightened, withdrew.

When she reached the door, she turned back and placed a bar of gold on the mat. Ning picked it up and flung it into the courtyard, saying, 'This ill-gotten thing would defile my bag!' The girl, ashamed, went out and picked up the gold, muttering to herself, 'This man must be made of iron and stone.'

The next morning, a Lanxi scholar arrived with a servant to await the examinations, lodging in the eastern chamber. That night he died suddenly. On the sole of his foot was a small hole, as if pricked by an awl, from which blood oozed. No one knew the reason. After another night, his servant also died, with the same symptoms.

Toward evening, Yan Chixia returned. Ning Caichen questioned him, and Yan thought it was a demon. Ning, always upright and straightforward, paid it little heed.

At midnight, the woman came again and said to Ning, "I have seen many men, but none with a will as firm as yours. You are truly a sage; I dare not deceive you. My name is Nie Xiaoqian; I died at eighteen and was buried beside the temple. I have been threatened by a demon and forced to perform base tasks. To face others with a shameless countenance is not my wish. Now there is no one left in the temple to kill, so I fear the yaksha will come."

Ning was terrified and asked for a plan. The woman said, "If you share a room with Yan Chixia, you will be safe." He asked, "Why do you not bewitch Yan?" She replied, "He is an extraordinary man; I dare not approach him."

He asked, “How do you bewitch them?” She said, “Those who grow intimate with me, I secretly prick their feet with a needle, and they become dazed, so I draw their blood for the demon to drink. Or I use gold — but it is not gold, it is a rakshasa ghost bone; if left behind, it can cut out a person’s heart and liver. These two methods are merely to cater to current tastes.”

Ning thanked her and asked when to be on guard. She replied, "Tomorrow night." As they parted, she wept and said, "I have fallen into the dark sea and cannot find the shore. Your righteous spirit reaches the clouds; surely you can rescue the living and save the suffering. If you would be willing to wrap my rotten bones in a bag and bury them in a peaceful home, it would be more than a second birth." Ning resolutely agreed and asked where she was buried. She said, "Just remember the white poplar tree with a crow's nest on top." Having spoken, she went out the door and vanished in a blur.

The next day, fearing Yan might go out, Ning went early to invite him. After the morning hour, he prepared wine and food and watched Yan closely. Having agreed to share lodgings, Yan declined, saying his nature was fond of solitude. Ning would not listen and forcibly brought his bedding over. Yan had no choice but to move his couch and join him, admonishing, "I know you are a true man, and I admire you greatly. But I have a private matter that is hard to reveal at once. Pray do not pry into my bag and bundle; if you do, it will be bad for both of us." Ning respectfully accepted the instruction.

Soon they each went to sleep. Yan placed his box on the windowsill, and when his head touched the pillow, he snored like thunder, so Ning could not fall asleep.

Near the first watch, a shadowy figure appeared outside the window and soon drew near to peer in, its eyes glinting. Ning, frightened, was about to call for Yan when something suddenly burst from the box, dazzling like a bolt of white silk. It struck and broke the stone window lattice, shot forth with a whistling sound, then swiftly withdrew, vanishing like lightning.

Yan woke and rose; Ning feigned sleep to watch him. Yan lifted the box and examined it, taking out an object, sniffing and inspecting it in the moonlight: it was white and glittering, about two inches long, as wide as a leek leaf. After a while he wrapped it in several layers and put it back into the broken box. He muttered to himself: "What old fiend, so bold as to break my box." Then he lay down again.

Ning marveled greatly, so he rose and asked him about it, telling him what he had seen. Yan said: "Since we are friends, how dare I hide it deeply? I am a swordsman. If not for the stone window lattice, the demon would have died on the spot; even so, it is wounded." Ning asked: "What is that sealed object?" Yan replied: "A sword. I just sniffed it and detected a demonic aura." Ning wished to see it; Yan generously brought it out to show him: it was a small sword, glimmering. From then on, Ning held Yan in even greater esteem.

The next day, he saw bloodstains outside the window, so he went out north of the temple, where he saw a stretch of desolate graves; indeed there was a white poplar, with a crow's nest at its top.

When his plans were settled, he packed his bags to return home. Yan Chixia held a farewell feast, with deep and sincere affection. He gave Ning a worn leather pouch, saying: "This is a sword pouch. Treasure it and keep it safe, and it will keep goblins at a distance."

Ning wanted to follow him and learn his art. He said: "A man of your integrity and uprightness may practice this. Yet you are still one destined for wealth and rank, not one of this Way."

Ning then claimed to have a sister buried there, unearthed the woman's bones, dressed them in grave clothes, hired a boat, and returned home.

Ning's study overlooked the wilds, so he built a grave and buried her outside it, offering a sacrifice and praying: "Pity your fox-spirit soul, buried near my humble dwelling, where songs and sobs may reach each other, that you may not be bullied by fierce ghosts. A bowl of thin gruel to drink is not clear or fine; I hope you will not take offense."

After the prayer he turned back, when someone called out: 'Wait, let me go with you!' He looked back and it was Xiaoqian, who joyfully thanked him, saying: 'Your faithfulness and honor — ten deaths would not be enough to repay. Let me follow you home, pay respects to your parents, and serve as a concubine without regret.'

He examined her closely: her skin glowed like sunset clouds, her feet tapered like tender bamboo shoots. Scrutinized by daylight, her delicate beauty was even more extraordinary. So he went with her to the study, bade her sit and wait a while, and entered first to inform his mother.

His mother was startled. At the time, Ning's wife had been ill for a long time, and his mother cautioned him not to speak of it, fearing she would be frightened. While they were speaking, the girl had already fluttered in, knelt, and prostrated herself on the floor. Ning said, 'This is Xiaoqian.' His mother looked at her in alarm, flustered.

The girl said to the mother: 'I am but a drifting soul, far from my parents and brothers. Thanks to your son's sheltering kindness, his grace has touched my very skin and hair. I wish to take up the dustpan and broom—to serve as a wife—and repay such lofty righteousness.'

His mother saw that she was graceful and lovable, and only then dared to speak with her, saying: 'Young lady, you have graced my son with your presence, and this old woman's joy knows no bounds. But I have only this one son in my life, to carry on the family line, and I dare not let him have a ghostly mate.'

The girl said: 'I truly have no second thoughts. Since I, one from the underworld, am not trusted by you, Mother, let me serve you as a daughter, attending to your needs morning and evening. How would that be?' The mother, moved by her sincerity, agreed. The girl then wished to pay respects to her sister-in-law, but the mother declined on the grounds of illness, and so she desisted.

The girl then went into the kitchen, taking over the mother's duties in preparing meals, and entered the bedchamber, passing through the bed-curtains, as if she had long lived there.

At dusk, the mother, fearing her, sent her away to bed without preparing any bedding. The girl, perceiving the mother's intent, left at once. Passing the study, she wanted to enter but then withdrew, lingering outside the door as if afraid of something.

Ning called to her. The girl said, "Your room has a sword aura that frightens me. The reason I did not present myself to you on the road earlier was precisely this." Ning then realized it was the sword pouch, and took it to hang in another room. The girl then entered and sat down by the candle.

For a while, she spoke not a single word; after a long time, she asked, "Do you read at night? In my youth I recited the Shurangama Sutra, but now I have forgotten more than half of it. I beg you for a copy, so that in my free evenings I may come and have you correct me." Ning agreed.

She sat again, silent. The second watch was nearly over, and still she did not speak of leaving. Ning urged her to go. With a sorrowful look she said, "A lonely soul in a strange land is especially afraid of the desolate grave." Ning said, "There is no other bed in the study to sleep on, and besides, as brother and sister, we should keep a proper distance." The girl rose, her brows knitted as if about to weep, her feet faltering and reluctant to move. Slowly she went out the door, stepped down the stairs, and vanished.

Ning secretly pitied her and wished to let her stay the night on another couch, but feared his mother's anger.

In the morning she paid her respects to Ning's mother, held the basin for her to wash, went down to the hall to work, and in everything she did she perfectly complied with the mother's wishes. At dusk she would take her leave, then always go to the study, draw near the candle, and recite the sutras; only when she sensed that Ning was about to sleep did she finally leave with a sorrowful look.

Earlier, Ning's wife was bedridden with illness, and his mother was worn out from toil; but since acquiring the girl, she found great ease and felt grateful to her. As days passed they grew intimate, and the mother loved her as if she were her own child, even forgetting that she was a ghost, unable to bear sending her away at night, so she kept her to sleep and rise together.

When the girl first arrived, she neither ate nor drank; after half a year, she gradually began to sip thin gruel. Both mother and son doted on her, avoided mentioning that she was a ghost, and no one else could tell the difference either.

Before long, Ning's wife died. His mother secretly wished to take the girl as a daughter-in-law, but feared it would be harmful to her son.

The girl secretly observed this, and taking an opportunity, said to the mother: 'I have lived here over a year, and you should know my heart. I did not wish to bring disaster to travelers, so I followed your son here. I had no other intention—only because the young master is open and upright, admired by heaven and men, I truly wished to rely on him and assist him for a few years, thereby gaining a noble title to bring glory to the underworld.'

The mother also knew she meant no harm, but feared she could not continue the family line. The girl said: 'Children are given only by Heaven. Your son is recorded in the register of blessings as having three sons who will glorify the clan—they will not be taken away because of a ghost wife.'

The mother believed her and discussed it with her son. Ning was delighted, so he spread a feast and announced it to their relatives and friends.

Some asked to see the new woman, and she readily came out in splendid attire, stunning the whole hall—they no longer suspected she was a ghost, but rather thought she was an immortal. From then on, the womenfolk of the five clans all brought gifts to congratulate, vying to pay their respects and make her acquaintance.

The woman excelled at painting orchids (or plum blossoms), and would always repay with a foot-long scroll; those who received one treasured it in layers of silk, considering it an honor.

One day, she was leaning by the window, looking melancholy as if she had lost something. Suddenly she asked, “Where is the leather pouch?” He replied, “Since you were afraid of it, I sealed it and put it elsewhere.” She said, “I have been exposed to your vital breath for so long that I should no longer fear it. You should take it and hang it by the bed.”

Ning asked her what she meant. She said, 'For three days now, my heart has been pounding without rest. I suspect that the Jinhua demon hates me for fleeing far away, and I fear that any day now it will come looking for me.'

Ning indeed brought the leather pouch. The woman examined it over and over, saying, 'This is what a sword immortal uses to store human heads. Worn and tattered as it is, who knows how many it has killed! Even now, looking at it, my flesh still crawls.' Then she hung it up. The next day, she told him to move it and hang it over the door.

That night, as they sat facing the candle, she asked Ning Caichen not to sleep. Suddenly, something fell like a flying bird. Startled, the woman hid between the bed curtains.

Ning looked at it; the thing was like a yaksha in form, with lightning eyes and a bloody tongue, its gaze flashing as it clawed its way forward. Reaching the door, it stepped back; it hesitated for a long while, then gradually approached the leather pouch, trying to seize it with its claws, as if about to tear it open. Suddenly the pouch gave a rattling sound and swelled to the size of a basket; in a blur, a ghostly thing emerged halfway, seized the yaksha, and pulled it inside. The sound then ceased, and the pouch instantly shrank back to its former size.

Ning was startled and amazed. The woman also came out and said joyfully, 'All is well!' They looked into the pouch together — there was only a few dou of clear water.

Several years later, Ning indeed passed the metropolitan examination. She bore a son. After he took a concubine, each bore a son, and all entered officialdom with good reputations.