Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) (12 page)

A tiger caught a fox. The fox said, “You wouldn’t dare eat
me!
The gods in Heaven have made me the leader of all animals. It would be a violation of the gods’ mandate for you to make a meal of me. If you doubt it, let me walk in front, and you follow to see if any animal dares stand his ground.” The tiger consented and went with the fox, nose to heels. Every animal that saw them fled. Amazed, and agreeing that the fox was leader of all the animals, the tiger went on his way.

—
Chan Kuo Ts’e

In Sung there was a rich man whose wall was damaged by heavy rain. The man’s son said, “There are bound to be thieves if we don’t repair it.” The father of a neighbor said the same thing. Sure enough, that night before repairs could be made, the rich man lost a lot of his property. The rich man’s family praised their son’s good sense but suspected the neighbor’s father.

—
Han Fei Tzu

A man who bought a strong, healthy bull dreamed that a pair of wings sprouted from the bull’s shoulders and it flew away. He took this for an unlucky sign and feared that he was about to suffer some loss. So he led the bull to the marketplace and sold it for less than he had paid.

Wrapping the money in a scarf, he slung it over his shoulder and set out for home. Halfway there he saw a hawk eating a dead rabbit. He went over and found the bird quite tame, so he tied its leg with one end of the scarf and put it back over his shoulder. The bird thrashed about, and when the man’s grip loosened, it soared away with his money.

Forever after, the man told people that there is no way to avoid what fate has arranged.

—
P’u Sung-ling

Old Fei, a farmer, had applied himself to his acres and become tolerably rich. His only regret in life was that he had no friends in high society.

One day during a terrible rainstorm Fei’s daughter-in-law was washing vegetables by the riverbank when a small boat anchored beside a willow. Inside there was a scholar sheltering under the dripping mat awning of the boat. His clothes and shoes were drenched; his two attendants were even worse off. The boatman told the daughter-in-law that the passenger’s name was Fei and that he held a degree of the second rank. On returning home, she told her father-in-law the surprising fact that the graduate’s surname was the same as theirs.

The old farmer gathered up rain gear and hurried to the boat. “What a storm!” he said to the scholar. “Would you care to take refuge in our poor quarters, honorable sir?” Cold and hungry, the scholar gladly accepted. In the farmer’s home the required courtesies were performed, and the scholar was delighted to learn that they had the same name. Together they traced the family genealogy, behaving as if they were indeed one happy family.

Old farmer Fei gave orders for a banquet. Holding the scholar by the hand, he led him out under the eaves, remarking, “I can’t complain about the way things have gone in the village. Those are my irrigated farms, so many acres; ginger, taro and cane, so many patches; plentiful fishponds; so many banks of wild rice; and besides, there are the mulberry fields and vegetable gardens, and the herb patches that grow in the shade of our mulberries.”

Old Fei drew the scholar by the hand to the left side of the hall,
where they could see more than ten tall buildings. “My granaries,” said the farmer. “And those are stalls for the oxen, the sheep, and the hogs. Right and left are the tenant farmers’ houses and other bungalows we rent.” The scholar nodded continually, his mind dazzled, his eye covetous. When dinner was announced, old Fei invited the scholar to the table.

The viands and delicacies were abundant and clean, far from what one usually finds in a country homestead. The old farmer raised his cup and said, “This brew has been aged five years. We offer it today especially for my honored younger brother.” The scholar thanked him profusely, and soon both Feis were warm with spirits. The scholar for his part gave a full account of his pedigree and connections. “This official was my father’s classmate,” he said. “And that one my examiner and patron. So-and-so the local official was my examiner, too. Various others are my cousins. At present so-and-so in office in the city are on good terms with me and would satisfy my every wish. Anyone associated with me would be immune from misfortune of any kind.”

Old farmer Fei took it in with enthusiasm and reverence. The meal ended, and so did the rains. As the sun was going down, the scholar said goodbye, for he had to leave even though the farmer begged him to stay the night. Sorrowfully old Fei watched him depart.

Next day, wearing his best clothes and taking a multitude of servingmen, the farmer set sail. He reached the city and called on the scholar, who received him cordially. From then on their friendship deepened. Produce from farmer Fei’s fields was frequently presented to scholar Fei. When the fall harvest was in, part of the new crop was sent to the graduate. At the year’s end there would come a gift of preserved meats. The grateful scholar was pained that he could not do something useful in return for the food he had taken. Finally, however, he came up with an idea and consulted a certain police constable with whom he was on close terms. The policeman arranged for a certain bandit to commit a crime and frame farmer Fei for it. Soon the farmer found himself in jail.

Seeking help, the farmer’s son rushed to the home of the scholar. “Your father has treated me so generously,” the scholar said tearfully, “that I would spare nothing to save him. But his offense is not light. This isn’t something I can take care of by
putting in a word. We’re involved with a bunch of real crooks here—what’s the best way to deal with this, I wonder?”

The son said, “If there’s any way to free my father, we’ll follow your instructions to the letter.” The scholar told him how much to pay to bribe this official and that official—how much for the magistrate’s clerk, the constable, and last of all, the bandit. Paying off the higher-ups and the lower-downs would cost five thousand ounces of silver.

Now, the wealth of a farmer is in his land; there is little cash. Unable to raise the entire amount, the son was forced to give all the deeds for the land and buildings to the scholar, who took possession of the property in the name of other officials. He even circulated petitions and instructions to his superiors and inferiors to milk the son from every possible angle. To meet these demands the farmer’s son was reduced to “netting sparrows and unearthing rats,” as they say—doing any odd jobs that would turn a penny. At last when the household was stripped clean, the father was set free. One year had gone by.

While in prison, the farmer felt ever grateful to the scholar for keeping him in mind. Old Fei often remarked that he was lucky to know the young man. When he finally returned home and counted up his losses, all that was left to him in the world was his wretched family. The air shook with his great sobs. But before his tears had time to dry, a representative of the receiver of his property arrived.

When the farmer had calmed himself, he fell to wondering why a bandit he had never met could have wreaked such vengeance upon him. So he killed a chicken and took it with some wine back to the jail to feast the bandit and ask the cause of his hatred.

“I ruined you and your family,” the bandit said, “yet you have come to feed me. You must be an honorable man. I can no longer conceal the truth, which is that your brother the scholar instructed the constables to do everything.” Hearing this, the old farmer realized at last what had happened. He dashed to the graduate’s house but time and again was told that scholar Fei was away on business.

Unable to vent his anger there, the old farmer went home and laid the blame on his daughter-in-law. “If it were not for you,” he said, “this disaster would never have happened.” “Your surnames happened to be the same,” she replied, “so I mentioned it to you. I didn’t ask you to get involved with the man.”

In his anguish the old farmer cursed her, and she was so outraged that she hanged herself. The son, furious at seeing his wife dead for no reason, also hanged himself. And old Fei, having now neither home nor descendants, put the cord around his own neck too.

—
Ching Hsing-shao