大洪楊先生漣，微時為楚名儒，自命不凡。科試後，聞報優等者，時方食，含哺出問：「有楊某否？」答云：「無。」不覺嗒然自喪，嚥食入鬲，遂成病塊，噎阻甚苦。眾勸令錄遺才；公患無貲，眾醵十金送之行，乃強就道。夜夢人告之云：「前途有人能愈君疾，宜苦求之。」臨去，贈以詩，有「江邊柳下三弄笛，拋向江心莫歎息」之句。明日途次，果見道士坐柳下，因便叩請。道士笑曰：「子悞矣，我何能療病？請為三弄可也。」因出笛吹之。公觸所夢，拜求益切，且傾囊獻之。道士接金，擲諸江流。公以所來不易，啞然驚惜。道士曰：「君未能恝然耶？金在江邊，請自取之。」公詣視果然。又益奇之，呼為仙。道士漫指曰：「我非仙，彼處仙人來矣。」賺公回顧，力拍其項曰：「俗哉！」公受拍，張吻作聲，喉中嘔出一物，墮地堛然，俯而破之，赤絲中裹飯猶存，病若失。回視道士已杳。
大洪杨先生涟，微时为楚名儒，自命不凡。科试后，闻报优等者，时方食，含哺出问：「有杨某否？」答云：「无。」不觉嗒然自丧，咽食入鬲，遂成病块，噎阻甚苦。众劝令录遗才；公患无赀，众醵十金送之行，乃强就道。夜梦人告之云：「前途有人能愈君疾，宜苦求之。」临去，赠以诗，有「江边柳下三弄笛，抛向江心莫叹息」之句。明日途次，果见道士坐柳下，因便叩请。道士笑曰：「子悮矣，我何能疗病？请为三弄可也。」因出笛吹之。公触所梦，拜求益切，且倾囊献之。道士接金，掷诸江流。公以所来不易，哑然惊惜。道士曰：「君未能恝然耶？金在江边，请自取之。」公诣视果然。又益奇之，呼为仙。道士漫指曰：「我非仙，彼处仙人来矣。」赚公回顾，力拍其项曰：「俗哉！」公受拍，张吻作声，喉中呕出一物，堕地堛然，俯而破之，赤丝中裹饭犹存，病若失。回视道士已杳。
Mr. Yang Lian, known as Dahong, was a famous scholar in Chu before he rose in the world, and he thought himself no ordinary man. After the qualifying examination, he heard the names of those placed in the top grade being announced. He was in the middle of a meal. He came out with his mouth still full and asked, “Is there a Yang on the list?” “No,” came the answer. Before he knew it he was crushed, as if he had lost himself. The food he swallowed went down to his diaphragm and set into a lump, and it choked and blocked him most painfully. Everyone urged him to sit the make-up examination for those passed over. He worried that he had no money, so they pooled ten taels of silver and saw him off, and he forced himself onto the road. That night he dreamed that someone told him, “Ahead on your road is a man who can cure your illness. Beg him hard.” As the figure left, it gave him a poem with the lines: “By the river, under the willow, three airs on the flute; / tossed into midstream — do not sigh.” Next day on the road, sure enough, he saw a Daoist sitting under a willow, and he knelt and begged him. The Daoist laughed. “You are mistaken. How could I cure illness? But I can play you three airs.” He took out a flute and played. This brought the dream home to Yang. He bowed and begged all the more earnestly, and emptied his purse to offer it. The Daoist took the silver and threw it into the river. The money had not come easily, and Yang was struck dumb with alarm and regret. “You cannot shrug it off?” said the Daoist. “The silver is on the riverbank. Go and get it yourself.” Yang went to look, and so it was. He marvelled at the man all the more and called him an immortal. The Daoist pointed off carelessly. “I am no immortal. Look over there — an immortal is coming!” He tricked Yang into turning to look, then slapped him hard on the back of the neck. “How worldly!” At the blow Yang opened his mouth with a sound and threw up something from his throat. It hit the ground with a thud. He bent down and broke it open: inside, wrapped in red threads, the rice was still there. His illness was gone as if it had never been. He looked round. The Daoist had vanished.