賈奉雉，平涼人。才名冠一時，而試輒不售。一日，途中遇一秀才，自言郎姓，風格灑然，談言微中。因邀俱歸，出課藝就正。郎讀罷，不甚稱許，曰：「足下文，小試取第一則有餘，闈場取榜尾則不足。」賈曰：「奈何？」郎曰：「天下事，仰而跂之則難，俯而就之甚易，此何須鄙人言哉！」遂指一二人、一二篇以為標準，大率賈所鄙棄而不屑道者。聞之，笑曰：「學者立言，貴乎不朽，即味列八珍，當使天下不以為泰耳。如此獵取功名，雖登臺閣，猶為賤也。」郎曰：「不然。文章雖美，賤則弗傳。君欲抱卷以終也則已；不然，簾內諸官，皆以此等物事進身，恐不能因閱君文，另換一副眼睛肺腸也。」賈終嘿然。郎起而笑曰：「少年盛氣哉！」遂別而去。是秋入闈復落，邑邑不得志，頗思郎言，遂取前所指示者強讀之。未至終篇，昏昏欲睡，心惶惑無以自主。又三年，闈場將近，郎忽至，相見甚懽。因出所擬七題，使賈作文。越日，索文而閱，不以為可，又令復作；作已，又訾之。賈戲於落卷中，集其冗泛濫，不可告人之句，連綴成文，俟其來而示之。郎喜曰：「得之矣！」因使熟記，堅囑勿忘。賈笑曰：「實相告：此言不由中，轉瞬即去，便受夏楚，不能復憶之也。」郎坐案頭，強令自誦一過；因使袒背，以筆寫符而去，曰：「只此已足，可以束閣群書矣。」驗其符，濯之不下，深入肌理。至場中，七題無一遺者。回思諸作，茫不記憶，惟戲綴之文，歷歷在心。然把筆終以為羞；欲少竄易，而顛倒苦思，竟不能復更一字。日已西墜，直錄而出。郎候之已久，問：「何暮也？」賈以實告，即求拭符；視之，已漫滅矣。再憶場中文，遂如隔世。大奇之。因問：「何不自謀？」笑曰：「某惟不作此等想，故能不讀此等文也。」遂約明日過諸其寓。賈諾之。郎既去，賈取文稿自閱之，大非本懷，怏怏不自得，不復訪郎，嗒喪而歸。未幾，榜發，竟中經魁。閱舊稿，一讀一汗。讀竟，重衣盡溼。自言曰：「此文一出，何以見天下士矣！」方慚怍間，郎忽至曰：「求中即中矣，何其悶也？」曰：「僕適自念，以金盆玉椀貯狗矢，真無顏出見同人。行將遁跡山丘，與世長絕矣。」郎曰：「此亦大高，但恐不能耳。果能之，僕引見一人，長生可得，並千載之名，亦不足戀，況儻來之富貴乎！」賈悅，留與共宿，曰：「容某思之。」天明，謂郎曰：「予志決矣！」不告妻子，飄然遂去。漸入深山，至一洞府，其中別有天地。有叟坐堂上，郎使參之，呼以師。叟曰：「來何早也？」郎白：「此人道念已堅，望加收齒。」叟曰：「汝既來，須將此身並置度外，始得。」賈唯唯聽命。郎送至一院，安其寢處，又投以餌，始去。房亦精潔；但戶無扉，窗無櫺，內惟一几一榻。賈解履登榻，月明穿射矣。覺微飢，取餌啖之，甘而易飽。竊意郎當復來，坐久寂然，杳無聲響。但覺清香滿室，臟腑空明，脈絡皆可指數。忽聞有聲甚厲，似貓抓癢，自牖睨之，則虎蹲檐下。乍見，甚驚；因憶師言，即復收神凝坐。虎似知其有人，尋入近榻，氣咻咻，遍嗅足股。少頃，聞庭中嗥動，如雞受縛，虎即趨出。又坐少時，一美人入，蘭麝撲人，悄然登榻，附耳小言曰：「我來矣。」一言之間，口脂散馥。賈瞑然不少動。又低聲曰：「睡乎？」聲音頗類其妻，心微動。又念曰：「此皆師相試之幻術也。」瞑如故。美人笑曰：「鼠子動矣！」初，夫妻與婢同室，押褻惟恐婢聞，私約一謎曰：「鼠子動，則相歡好。」忽聞是語，不覺大動，開目凝視，真其妻也。問：「何能來？」答云：「郎生恐君岑寂思歸，遣一嫗導我來。」言次，因賈出門不相告語，偎傍之際，頗有怨懟。賈慰藉良久，始得嬉笑為歡。既畢，夜已向晨，聞叟譙訶聲，漸近庭院。妻急起，無地自匿，遂越短牆而去。俄頃，郎從叟入。叟對賈杖郎，便令逐客。郎亦引賈自短牆出，曰：「僕望君奢，不免躁進；不圖情緣未斷，累受扑責。從此暫去，相見行有日也。」指示歸途，拱手遂別。賈俯視故村，故在目中。意妻弱步，必滯途間。疾趨里餘，已至家門，但見房垣零落，舊景全非，村中老幼，竟無一相識者，心始駭異。忽念劉、阮返自天台，情景真似。不敢入門，於對戶憩坐。良久，有老翁曳杖出。賈揖之，問：「賈某家何所？」翁指其第曰：「此即是也。得無欲聞奇事耶？僕悉知之。相傳此公聞捷即遁；遁時，其子纔七八歲。後至十四五歲，母忽大睡不醒。子在時，寒暑為之易衣；迨歿，兩孫窮踧，房舍拆毀，惟以木架苫覆蔽之。月前，夫人忽醒，屈指百餘年矣。遠近聞其異，皆來訪視，近日稍稀矣。」賈豁然頓悟，曰：「翁不知賈奉雉即某是也。」翁大駭，走報其家。時長孫已死；次孫祥，至五十餘矣。以賈年少，疑有詐偽。少間，夫人出，始識之。雙涕霪霪，呼與俱去。苦無屋宇，暫入孫舍。大小男婦，奔入盈側，皆其曾、玄，率陋劣少文。長孫婦吳氏，沽酒具藜藿；又使少子杲及婦，與己共室，除舍舍祖翁姑。賈入舍，煙埃兒溺，雜氣熏人。居數日，懊惋殊不可耐。兩孫家分供餐飲，調飪尤乖。里中以賈新歸，日日招飲；而夫人恆不得一飽。吳氏故士人女，頗嫻閨訓，承順不衰。祥家給奉漸疏，或嘑爾與之。賈怒，攜夫人去，設帳東里。每謂夫人曰：「吾甚悔此一返，而已無及矣。不得已，復理舊業，若心無愧恥，富貴不難致也。」居年餘，吳氏猶時餽餉，而祥父子絕跡矣。是歲，試入邑庠。邑令重其文，厚贈之，由此家稍裕。祥稍稍來近就之。賈喚入，計曩所耗費，出金償之，斥絕令去。遂買新第，移吳氏共居之。吳二子，長者留守舊業；次杲頗慧，使與門人輩共筆硯。賈自山中歸，心思益明澈。無何，連捷登進士第。又數年，以侍御出巡兩浙，聲名赫奕，歌舞樓臺，一時稱盛。賈為人骾峭，不避權貴，朝中大僚，思中傷之。賈屢疏恬退，未蒙俞旨，未幾而禍作矣。先是，祥六子皆無賴，賈雖擯斥不齒，然皆竊餘勢以作威福，橫占田宅，鄉人共患之。有某乙娶新婦，祥次子篡取為妾。乙故狙詐，鄉人斂金助訟，以此聞於都。於是當道者交章攻賈。賈殊無以自剖，被收經年。祥及次子皆瘐死。賈奉旨充遼陽軍。時杲入泮已久，為人頗仁厚，有賢聲。夫人生一子，年十六，遂以囑杲，夫妻攜一僕一媼而去。賈曰：「十餘年富貴，曾不如一夢之久。今始知榮華之場，皆地獄境界，悔比劉晨、阮肇，多造一重孽案耳。」數日，抵海岸，遙見巨舟來，鼓樂殷作，虞候皆如天神。既近，舟中一人出，笑請侍御過舟少憩。賈見驚喜，踴身而過，押隸不敢禁。夫人急欲相從，而相去已遠，遂憤投海中。漂泊數步，見一人垂練於水，引救而去。隸命篙師盪舟，且追且號，但聞鼓聲如雷，與轟濤相間，瞬間遂杳。僕識其人，蓋郎生也。
贾奉雉，平凉人。才名冠一时，而试辄不售。一日，途中遇一秀才，自言郎姓，风格洒然，谈言微中。因邀俱归，出课艺就正。郎读罢，不甚称许，曰：「足下文，小试取第一则有余，闱场取榜尾则不足。」贾曰：「奈何？」郎曰：「天下事，仰而跂之则难，俯而就之甚易，此何须鄙人言哉！」遂指一二人、一二篇以为标准，大率贾所鄙弃而不屑道者。闻之，笑曰：「学者立言，贵乎不朽，即味列八珍，当使天下不以为泰耳。如此猎取功名，虽登台阁，犹为贱也。」郎曰：「不然。文章虽美，贱则弗传。君欲抱卷以终也则已；不然，帘内诸官，皆以此等物事进身，恐不能因阅君文，另换一副眼睛肺肠也。」贾终嘿然。郎起而笑曰：「少年盛气哉！」遂别而去。是秋入闱复落，邑邑不得志，颇思郎言，遂取前所指示者强读之。未至终篇，昏昏欲睡，心惶惑无以自主。又三年，闱场将近，郎忽至，相见甚懽。因出所拟七题，使贾作文。越日，索文而阅，不以为可，又令复作；作已，又訾之。贾戏于落卷中，集其冗泛滥，不可告人之句，连缀成文，俟其来而示之。郎喜曰：「得之矣！」因使熟记，坚嘱勿忘。贾笑曰：「实相告：此言不由中，转瞬即去，便受夏楚，不能复忆之也。」郎坐案头，强令自诵一过；因使袒背，以笔写符而去，曰：「只此已足，可以束阁群书矣。」验其符，濯之不下，深入肌理。至场中，七题无一遗者。回思诸作，茫不记忆，惟戏缀之文，历历在心。然把笔终以为羞；欲少窜易，而颠倒苦思，竟不能复更一字。日已西坠，直录而出。郎候之已久，问：「何暮也？」贾以实告，即求拭符；视之，已漫灭矣。再忆场中文，遂如隔世。大奇之。因问：「何不自谋？」笑曰：「某惟不作此等想，故能不读此等文也。」遂约明日过诸其寓。贾诺之。郎既去，贾取文稿自阅之，大非本怀，怏怏不自得，不复访郎，嗒丧而归。未几，榜发，竟中经魁。阅旧稿，一读一汗。读竟，重衣尽湿。自言曰：「此文一出，何以见天下士矣！」方惭怍间，郎忽至曰：「求中即中矣，何其闷也？」曰：「仆适自念，以金盆玉椀贮狗矢，真无颜出见同人。行将遁迹山丘，与世长绝矣。」郎曰：「此亦大高，但恐不能耳。果能之，仆引见一人，长生可得，并千载之名，亦不足恋，况傥来之富贵乎！」贾悦，留与共宿，曰：「容某思之。」天明，谓郎曰：「予志决矣！」不告妻子，飘然遂去。渐入深山，至一洞府，其中别有天地。有叟坐堂上，郎使参之，呼以师。叟曰：「来何早也？」郎白：「此人道念已坚，望加收齿。」叟曰：「汝既来，须将此身并置度外，始得。」贾唯唯听命。郎送至一院，安其寝处，又投以饵，始去。房亦精洁；但户无扉，窗无櫺，内惟一几一榻。贾解履登榻，月明穿射矣。觉微饥，取饵啖之，甘而易饱。窃意郎当复来，坐久寂然，杳无声响。但觉清香满室，脏腑空明，脉络皆可指数。忽闻有声甚厉，似猫抓痒，自牖睨之，则虎蹲檐下。乍见，甚惊；因忆师言，即复收神凝坐。虎似知其有人，寻入近榻，气咻咻，遍嗅足股。少顷，闻庭中嗥动，如鸡受缚，虎即趋出。又坐少时，一美人入，兰麝扑人，悄然登榻，附耳小言曰：「我来矣。」一言之间，口脂散馥。贾瞑然不少动。又低声曰：「睡乎？」声音颇类其妻，心微动。又念曰：「此皆师相试之幻术也。」瞑如故。美人笑曰：「鼠子动矣！」初，夫妻与婢同室，押亵惟恐婢闻，私约一谜曰：「鼠子动，则相欢好。」忽闻是语，不觉大动，开目凝视，真其妻也。问：「何能来？」答云：「郎生恐君岑寂思归，遣一妪导我来。」言次，因贾出门不相告语，偎傍之际，颇有怨怼。贾慰藉良久，始得嬉笑为欢。既毕，夜已向晨，闻叟谯诃声，渐近庭院。妻急起，无地自匿，遂越短墙而去。俄顷，郎从叟入。叟对贾杖郎，便令逐客。郎亦引贾自短墙出，曰：「仆望君奢，不免躁进；不图情缘未断，累受扑责。从此暂去，相见行有日也。」指示归途，拱手遂别。贾俯视故村，故在目中。意妻弱步，必滞途间。疾趋里余，已至家门，但见房垣零落，旧景全非，村中老幼，竟无一相识者，心始骇异。忽念刘、阮返自天台，情景真似。不敢入门，于对户憩坐。良久，有老翁曳杖出。贾揖之，问：「贾某家何所？」翁指其第曰：「此即是也。得无欲闻奇事耶？仆悉知之。相传此公闻捷即遁；遁时，其子才七八岁。后至十四五岁，母忽大睡不醒。子在时，寒暑为之易衣；迨殁，两孙穷踧，房舍拆毁，惟以木架苫覆蔽之。月前，夫人忽醒，屈指百余年矣。远近闻其异，皆来访视，近日稍稀矣。」贾豁然顿悟，曰：「翁不知贾奉雉即某是也。」翁大骇，走报其家。时长孙已死；次孙祥，至五十余矣。以贾年少，疑有诈伪。少间，夫人出，始识之。双涕霪霪，呼与俱去。苦无屋宇，暂入孙舍。大小男妇，奔入盈侧，皆其曾、玄，率陋劣少文。长孙妇吴氏，沽酒具藜藿；又使少子杲及妇，与己共室，除舍舍祖翁姑。贾入舍，烟埃儿溺，杂气熏人。居数日，懊惋殊不可耐。两孙家分供餐饮，调饪尤乖。里中以贾新归，日日招饮；而夫人恒不得一饱。吴氏故士人女，颇娴闺训，承顺不衰。祥家给奉渐疏，或嘑尔与之。贾怒，携夫人去，设帐东里。每谓夫人曰：「吾甚悔此一返，而已无及矣。不得已，复理旧业，若心无愧耻，富贵不难致也。」居年余，吴氏犹时餽饷，而祥父子绝迹矣。是岁，试入邑庠。邑令重其文，厚赠之，由此家稍裕。祥稍稍来近就之。贾唤入，计曩所耗费，出金偿之，斥绝令去。遂买新第，移吴氏共居之。吴二子，长者留守旧业；次杲颇慧，使与门人辈共笔砚。贾自山中归，心思益明澈。无何，连捷登进士第。又数年，以侍御出巡两浙，声名赫奕，歌舞楼台，一时称盛。贾为人骾峭，不避权贵，朝中大僚，思中伤之。贾屡疏恬退，未蒙俞旨，未几而祸作矣。先是，祥六子皆无赖，贾虽摈斥不齿，然皆窃余势以作威福，横占田宅，乡人共患之。有某乙娶新妇，祥次子篡取为妾。乙故狙诈，乡人敛金助讼，以此闻于都。于是当道者交章攻贾。贾殊无以自剖，被收经年。祥及次子皆瘐死。贾奉旨充辽阳军。时杲入泮已久，为人颇仁厚，有贤声。夫人生一子，年十六，遂以嘱杲，夫妻携一仆一媪而去。贾曰：「十余年富贵，曾不如一梦之久。今始知荣华之场，皆地狱境界，悔比刘晨、阮肇，多造一重孽案耳。」数日，抵海岸，遥见巨舟来，鼓乐殷作，虞候皆如天神。既近，舟中一人出，笑请侍御过舟少憩。贾见惊喜，踊身而过，押隶不敢禁。夫人急欲相从，而相去已远，遂愤投海中。漂泊数步，见一人垂练于水，引救而去。隶命篙师荡舟，且追且号，但闻鼓声如雷，与轰涛相间，瞬间遂杳。仆识其人，盖郎生也。
Jia Fengzhi was a man of Pingliang. His name for talent was the first of his day, yet every time he sat the examinations he failed. One day on the road he met a licentiate who said his name was Lang. He had a free and easy manner, and his talk, light as it was, went to the heart of things. So Jia invited him home and brought out his practice essays for criticism. When Lang had read them, he had little praise for them. “Your writing, sir,” he said, “is more than good enough to come first in the lower examinations, but not good enough to scrape onto the bottom of the list at the provincial examination.” “What is to be done?” said Jia. “In the affairs of this world,” said Lang, “reaching up on tiptoe is hard; stooping down to meet a thing is very easy. Why should you need me to tell you that?” Then he pointed out one or two men and one or two essays as models — almost all of them men and pieces Jia despised and would not deign to mention. Hearing this, Jia laughed. “When a scholar puts his words into the world, what matters is that they should never die. Even if he dines on the eight delicacies, the world should not think it more than he deserves. To hunt fame and office like this — even if it took me to the highest posts in the land, it would still be base.” “Not so,” said Lang. “However fine a piece of writing, if its author is lowly, it will not be handed down. If you mean to hug your writings to yourself until you die, well and good. If not — the officials behind the curtain all rose by stuff like this, and I doubt they will swap their eyes and guts for a new set just because they are reading your essays.” Jia stayed silent to the end. Lang rose and laughed. “The proud spirit of youth!” And he took his leave. That autumn Jia went into the examination hall and failed again. Glum and frustrated, he thought a good deal about Lang’s words, and took out the pieces Lang had pointed out and forced himself to read them. Before he reached the end of one, he was nodding off, and his mind was so muddled and uneasy that he could not take hold of himself. Three more years went by. The examination was approaching when Lang suddenly arrived, and they were very glad to see each other. Lang brought out seven topics he had drafted and had Jia write essays on them. The next day he asked for the essays and read them, and did not think them right. He had Jia write them again; when they were done, he found fault again. As a joke, Jia went through his failed papers, gathered up all the sentences that were wordy, rambling and too shameful to show anyone, strung them together into essays, and waited for Lang to come and showed him. Lang was delighted. “That’s it!” He made Jia learn them by heart and urged him again and again not to forget them. Jia laughed. “To tell you the truth, these words don’t come from my heart. In the blink of an eye they’ll be gone. Even if you caned me, I couldn’t remember them.” Lang sat at the desk and made him recite them once through. Then he had him bare his back, wrote a charm on it with a brush, and left, saying, “This alone is enough. You can tie up all your books and put them on the shelf.” Jia looked at the charm: it would not wash off, but had sunk deep into his skin. When he got into the examination, not one of the seven topics was missing. He tried to recall all his own essays, but could not remember a thing; only the essays he had pieced together as a joke stood clear in his mind. Yet when he took up his brush, he was ashamed. He wanted to change them a little, but though he turned them this way and that and racked his brains, he could not alter a single word. The sun was already sinking in the west, so he copied them out as they were and came out. Lang had been waiting a long time. “Why so late?” he asked. Jia told him the truth and at once asked him to wipe off the charm. When they looked, it had already faded away. And when Jia tried to remember what he had written in the examination, it was as if from another life. He thought it very strange. “Why don’t you try for yourself?” he asked Lang. Lang laughed. “It is only because I never think of such things that I can do without reading such writing.” Then he made an appointment for Jia to call on him at his lodging the next day, and Jia agreed. When Lang had gone, Jia took out his draft and read it over. It was nothing like what he had in his heart. He was miserable and dissatisfied, did not go to see Lang again, and went home crestfallen. Before long the list came out: he had passed, and first in his classic. He read his old draft: every reading brought out a sweat. By the time he finished, every layer of his clothes was soaked through. “When this essay is published,” he said to himself, “how shall I face the scholars of the world?” He was still burning with shame when Lang suddenly arrived. “You wanted to pass and you have passed. Why so gloomy?” “I was just thinking,” said Jia, “that I have served dog shit in a gold basin and a jade bowl. I truly cannot face my fellows. I mean to vanish into the hills and leave the world for ever.” “That would be very lofty,” said Lang. “I only fear you won’t be able to do it. If you really can, I will take you to meet a man from whom you can have long life — and then even a name that lasts a thousand years will not be worth caring about, let alone wealth and rank that come by chance!” Jia was pleased and kept him to stay the night. “Let me think it over,” he said. At dawn he said to Lang, “I have made up my mind!” Without telling his wife and son, he simply went away. Little by little they went deep into the mountains, and came to a cave dwelling of the immortals, a whole world of its own inside. An old man sat in the hall. Lang had Jia pay his respects and call him Master. “Why have you come so early?” said the old man. “This man’s mind is set firmly on the Way,” Lang told him. “I hope you will take him among your disciples.” “Since you have come,” the old man said to Jia, “you must put this body of yours out of your mind altogether. Only then will it work.” Jia murmured that he would obey. Lang took him to a courtyard, settled him in his sleeping quarters, gave him some cakes, and only then went away. The room was clean and neat, but the doorway had no door and the window had no lattice; inside there was only a table and a couch. Jia took off his shoes and got onto the couch. The bright moonlight shone straight in. Feeling a little hungry, he ate the cakes; they were sweet and quickly filled him. He thought Lang would surely come back, but he sat for a long time in silence, and there was not a sound. He only felt a clear fragrance filling the room, and his insides grew empty and bright, so that he could have counted every vein in his body. Suddenly he heard a harsh sound, like a cat scratching an itch. He peeped out of the window: a tiger was crouching under the eaves. At first sight he was terrified; then he remembered what the Master had said, gathered his spirit again and sat still. The tiger seemed to know someone was there. It came in and up to the couch, panting, and sniffed him all over, feet and thighs. In a little while there came a howling commotion from the courtyard, like a chicken being tied up, and the tiger hurried out. When he had sat a little longer, a beautiful woman came in, with a scent of orchid and musk that took his breath away. She climbed quietly onto the couch and whispered in his ear, “I’ve come.” As she spoke, the fragrance of her lip rouge spread about him. Jia kept his eyes shut and did not stir. “Are you asleep?” she said softly. Her voice was very like his wife’s, and his heart stirred a little. But he thought, “This is all a magic trick of the Master’s to test me,” and kept his eyes shut as before. The woman laughed. “The little mouse is moving!” Now, in the old days Jia and his wife had shared a room with a maid. Afraid the maid would hear their lovemaking, they had agreed on a secret signal: when the little mouse was moving, it was time to make love. Hearing these words so suddenly, he was deeply stirred. He opened his eyes and stared at her: it really was his wife. “How could you come here?” he asked. “Mr. Lang was afraid you’d be lonely and want to come home,” she answered, “so he sent an old woman to bring me.” As she spoke, because Jia had left home without telling her, there was a good deal of reproach in the way she nestled up to him. Jia comforted her for a long while, and at last they were laughing and making love. When they had done, the night was turning towards morning. They heard the old man’s angry voice, scolding, coming closer to the courtyard. His wife jumped up, but there was nowhere to hide, so she climbed over the low wall and was gone. In a moment Lang came in behind the old man. In front of Jia, the old man beat Lang with his staff, then ordered him to send the guest away. Lang too led Jia out over the low wall. “I hoped for too much from you,” he said, “and could not help pushing you forward too fast. I never thought your bond of love was not yet broken, and I have been beaten for it. Go away for now. The day will come when we meet again.” He showed Jia the way home, joined his hands in a bow and left him. Jia looked down: his old village lay there before his eyes. Thinking that his wife, with her weak feet, must have been held up on the road, he hurried on for a li or so and was already at his gate. But he saw that the house and walls were crumbling, nothing was as it had been, and of all the villagers, old and young, there was not one he knew. Only then did he begin to be alarmed. Suddenly he thought of Liu and Ruan coming back from Mount Tiantai: it was exactly like that. He did not dare go in, but sat down to rest across the road. After a long while an old man came out, leaning on a stick. Jia bowed to him and asked, “Where is the house of the Jia family?” The old man pointed at the house. “This is it. You wouldn’t be wanting to hear the strange story, would you? I know it all. They say that when the master of this house heard he had passed, he ran away. When he left, his son was only seven or eight. When the son was fourteen or fifteen, his mother suddenly fell into a great sleep and never woke. While the son was alive, he changed her clothes for her winter and summer. After he died, his two sons fell on hard times. The house was pulled down, and she was covered over with only a wooden frame and some thatch. A month ago the lady suddenly woke up. Counting on your fingers, it’s been more than a hundred years. People from far and near heard of the wonder and came to see; lately they’ve been fewer.” Suddenly Jia understood everything. “You don’t know, sir, that Jia Fengzhi is me.” The old man was astounded, and ran to tell the family. By then the elder grandson had died; the younger grandson, Xiang, was over fifty. Seeing how young Jia was, he suspected a trick. Presently the lady came out, and only then did they recognize each other. Her tears streamed down, and she called him to go with her. Having no house, they went for the time being into their grandson’s home. Men and women, big and small, came running in and crowded round them — all great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, and for the most part coarse, low and unlettered. The elder grandson’s widow, Mrs. Wu, bought wine and served up coarse greens; she also had her younger son, Gao, and his wife move in with her, and cleared out their rooms to lodge the old grandparents. When Jia went in, smoke and dust and children’s piss made a stench that choked him. After a few days he was so vexed and sorry that he could hardly bear it. The two grandsons’ households took turns to feed them, and the cooking was worse than ever. Because Jia was newly returned, people in the village invited him out to drink every day; but his wife could never get a full meal. Mrs. Wu was the daughter of a scholar and well taught in a wife’s duties; she served them dutifully and never flagged. In Xiang’s household the food came less and less often, and sometimes it was flung at them with a shout. Jia was angry, and took his wife away, and set up a school in the east of the village. He often said to his wife, “I deeply regret coming back, but it is too late now. There is nothing for it but to take up my old trade again. If my heart knows no shame, wealth and rank will not be hard to come by.” After a year or more, Mrs. Wu still sent them gifts of food from time to time, but Xiang and his sons never came near. That year Jia sat the examination and entered the county school. The county magistrate thought highly of his writing and gave him generous gifts, and from then on the household was a little better off. Little by little Xiang began to come round and make up to him. Jia called him in, reckoned up all he had spent on them before, paid it back in silver, and sent him away, cutting him off for good. Then he bought a new house and moved Mrs. Wu in to live with them. Mrs. Wu had two sons. The elder stayed to look after the old property; the younger, Gao, was very clever, and Jia had him study alongside his own students. Since coming back from the mountains, Jia’s mind had grown clearer and sharper than ever. Before long he passed one examination after another and became a jinshi. Several years later, as a censor, he went on a tour of inspection of the two Zhe regions. His fame was dazzling; he lived among songs and dances and towers and terraces, and was the talk of his day. Jia was stiff-necked and stern, and did not shrink from offending men of power, and the great officials at court thought of ways to harm him. Jia sent up memorial after memorial asking to retire, but none was granted; and before long disaster struck. Now, Xiang’s six sons were all ne’er-do-wells. Though Jia had cast them out and would not acknowledge them, they all borrowed his power on the sly to bully people, seizing land and houses by force, and the villagers all suffered from them. When a certain man took a new bride, Xiang’s second son seized her for his concubine. The man was crafty, and the villagers pooled their money to help him go to law, so that the case was heard of in the capital. Then the men in power sent up memorial after memorial attacking Jia. Jia had no way to clear himself, and was held in prison for a year. Xiang and his second son both died in prison. By imperial order Jia was banished to serve in the army at Liaoyang. By then Gao had long since entered the county school; he was a kind and generous man, with a name for virtue. Jia’s wife had borne a son, now sixteen, so they left him in Gao’s care, and husband and wife set off with one manservant and one old woman. “Ten years and more of wealth and rank,” said Jia, “and it did not last as long as a dream. Now at last I know that the whole field of glory is a kind of hell. My regret is worse than Liu Chen’s and Ruan Zhao’s: I have only added one more case to the record of my sins.” After some days they reached the coast. In the distance they saw a great ship coming, with drums and music sounding loud, and guards who all looked like gods from heaven. When it drew near, a man came out of the ship and, smiling, invited the censor to come aboard and rest awhile. When Jia saw him, he was amazed and overjoyed, and leapt across, and the guards escorting him did not dare stop him. His wife hurried to follow him, but the ship was already far off, and in desperation she threw herself into the sea. She drifted a few paces, and then they saw a man let down a length of silk into the water, pull her up and carry her away. The guards ordered the boatmen to row after them, chasing and shouting; but they heard only the drums like thunder, mingled with the roaring of the waves, and in an instant it was gone. The servant knew the man: it was Lang.