勞山下清宮，耐冬高二丈，大數十圍，牡丹高丈餘，花時璀璨似錦。膠州黃生，舍讀其中。一日，自窗中見女郎，素衣掩映花間。心疑觀中焉得此。趨出，已遁去。自此屢見之。遂隱身叢樹中，以伺其至。未幾，女郎又偕一紅裳者來，遙望之，豔麗雙絕。行漸近，紅裳者卻退，曰：「此處有生人！」生暴起。二女驚奔，袖裙飄拂，香風洋溢，追過短牆，寂然已杳。愛慕彌切，因題句樹下云：
「無限相思苦，含情對短窗。恐歸沙吒利，何處覓無雙？」
歸齋冥想。女郎忽入，驚喜承迎。女笑曰：「君洶洶似強寇，使人恐怖；不知君乃騷雅士，無妨相見。」生略叩生平。曰：「妾小字香玉，隸籍平康巷。被道士閉置山中，實非所願。」生問：「道士何名？當為卿一滌此垢。」女曰：「不必，彼亦未敢相逼。借此與風流士長作幽會，亦佳。」問：「紅衣者誰？」曰：「此名絳雪，乃妾義姊。」遂相狎。及醒，曙色已紅。女急起，曰：「貪歡忘曉矣。」著衣易履，且曰：「妾酧君作，勿笑：
『良夜更易盡，朝暾已上窗。願如梁上燕，棲處自成雙。』」
生握腕曰：「卿秀外惠中，令人愛而忘死。顧一日之去，如千里之別。卿乘間當來，勿待夜也。」女諾之。由此夙夜必偕。每使邀絳雪來，輒不至，生以為恨。女曰：「絳姊性殊落落，不似妾情癡也。當從容勸駕，不必過急。」一夕，女慘然入，曰：「君隴不能守，尚望蜀耶？今長別矣。」問：「何之？」以袖拭淚，曰：「此有定數，難為君言。昔日佳作，今成讖語矣。『佳人已屬沙吒利，義士今無古押衙』，可為妾詠。」詰之，不言，但有嗚咽。竟夜不眠，早旦而去。生怪之。次日，有即墨藍氏，入宮游矚，見白牡丹，悅之，掘移逕去。生始悟香玉乃花妖也，悵惋不已。過數日，聞藍氏移花至家，日就萎悴。恨極，作哭花詩五十首，日日臨穴涕洟。一日，憑弔方返，遙見紅衣人，揮涕穴側。從容近就，女亦不避。生因把袂，相向汍瀾。已而挽請入室，女亦從之。歎曰：「童稚姊妹，一朝斷絕！聞君哀傷，彌增妾慟。淚墮九泉，或當感誠再作；然死者神氣已散，倉卒何能與吾兩人共談笑也。」生曰：「小生薄命，妨害情人，當亦無福可消雙美。曩頻煩香玉道達微忱，胡再不臨？」女曰：「妾以年少書生，什九薄倖；不知君固至情人也。然妾與君交，以情不以淫。若晝夜狎暱，則妾所不能矣。」言已，告別。生曰：「香玉長離，使人寢食俱廢。賴卿少留，慰此懷思，何決絕如此！」女乃止，過宿而去。數日不復至。冷雨幽窗，苦懷香玉，輾轉床頭，淚凝枕席。攬衣更起，挑燈復踵前韻曰：
「山院黃昏雨，垂簾坐小窗。相思人不見，中夜淚雙雙。」
詩成自吟。忽窗外有人曰：「作者不可無和。」聽之，絳雪也。啟戶內之。女視詩，即續其後曰：
「連袂人何處？孤燈照晚窗。空山人一個，對影自成雙。」
生讀之淚下，因怨相見之疏。女曰：「妾不能如香玉之熱，但可少慰君寂寞耳。」生欲與狎。曰：「相見之歡，何必在此。」於是至無聊時，女輒一至。至則宴飲唱酧，有時不寢遂去，生亦聽之。謂曰：「香玉吾愛妻，絳雪吾良友也。」每欲相問：「卿是院中第幾株？乞早見示，僕將抱植家中，免似香玉被惡人奪去，貽恨百年。」女曰：「故土難移，告君亦無益也。妻尚不能終從，況友乎！」生不聽，捉臂而出，每至牡丹下，輒問：「此是卿否？」女不言，掩口笑之。旋生以臘歸過歲。至二月間，忽夢絳雪至，愀然曰：「妾有大難！君急往，尚得相見；遲無及矣。」醒而異之，急命僕馬，星馳至山。則道士將建屋，有一耐冬，礙其營造，工師將縱斤矣。生急止之。入夜，絳雪來謝。生笑曰：「向不實告，宜遭此厄！今已知卿；如卿不至，當以艾炷相炙。」女曰：「妾固知君如此，曩故不敢相告也。」坐移時，生曰：「今對良友，益思豔妻。久不哭香玉，卿能從我哭乎？」二人乃往，臨穴灑涕。更餘，絳雪收淚勸止。又數夕，生方寂坐，絳雪笑入曰：「報君喜信：花神感君至情，俾香玉復降宮中。」生問：「何時？」答曰：「不知，約不遠耳。」天明下榻，生囑曰：「僕為卿來，勿長使人孤寂。」女笑諾。兩夜不至。生往抱樹，搖動撫摩，頻喚無聲。乃返，對燈團艾，將往灼樹。女遽入，奪艾棄之，曰：「君惡作劇，使人創痏，當與君絕矣！」生笑擁之。坐未定，香玉盈盈而入。生望見，泣下流離，急起把握。香玉以一手握絳雪，相對悲哽。及坐，生把之覺虛，如手自握，驚問之。香玉泫然曰：「昔，妾花之神，故凝；今，妾花之鬼，故散也。今雖相聚，勿以為真，但作夢寐觀可耳。」絳雪曰：「妹來大好！我被汝家男子糾纏死矣。」遂去。香玉款笑如前；但偎傍之間，彷彿一身就影。生悒悒不樂。香玉亦俯仰自恨。乃曰：「君以白蘞屑，少雜硫黃，日酹妾一杯水，明年此日報君恩。」別去。明日，往觀故處，則牡丹萌生矣。生乃日加培植，又作雕欄以護之。香玉來，感激倍至。生謀移植其家，女不可，曰：「妾弱質，不堪復戕。且物生各有定處，妾來原不擬生君家，違之反促年壽。但相憐愛，合好自有日耳。」生恨絳雪不至。香玉曰：「必欲強之使來，妾能致之。」乃與生挑燈至樹下，取草一莖，布掌作度，以度樹本，自下而上，至四尺六寸，按其處，使生以兩爪齊搔之。俄見絳雪從背後出，笑罵曰：「婢子來，助桀為虐耶！」牽挽並入。香玉曰：「姊勿怪！暫煩陪侍郎君，一年後不相擾矣。」從此遂以為常。生視花芽，日益肥茂，春盡，盈二尺許。歸後，以金遺道士，囑令朝夕培養之。次年四月至宮，則花一朵，含苞未放；方流連間，花搖搖欲拆；少時已開，花大如盤，儼然有小美人坐蕊中，裁三四指許；轉瞬飄然欲下，則香玉也。笑曰：「妾忍風雨以待君，君來何遲也！」遂入室。絳雪亦至，笑曰：「日日代人作婦，今幸退而為友。」遂相談讌。至中夜，絳雪乃去。二人同寢，款洽一如從前。後生妻卒，遂入山，不復歸。是時，牡丹已大如臂。生每指之曰：「我他日寄魂於此，當生卿之左。」二女笑曰：「君勿忘之。」後十餘年，忽病。其子至，對之而哀。生笑曰：「此我生期，非死期也，何哀為！」謂道士曰：「他日牡丹下有赤芽怒生，一放五葉者，即我也。」遂不復言。子輿之歸家。即卒。次年，果有肥芽突出，葉如其數。道士以為異，益灌溉之。三年，高數尺，大拱把，但不花。老道士死，其弟子不知愛惜，斫去之。白牡丹亦憔悴死；無何，耐冬亦死。
勞山的下清宮裡，有一株耐冬，高兩丈，樹幹粗有幾十圍，還有一株一丈多高的牡丹，開花時光彩奪目，像錦繡一樣。膠州的黃生住在這裡讀書。一天，他從窗戶裡看見一個年輕女子，穿著白衣，身影在花叢中時隱時現。他心裡納悶，道觀裡怎麼會有這樣的女子，便趕緊跑出去，她卻已經不見了。從此，他又多次看見她，於是藏身在樹叢裡，等她出現。沒過多久，那女子又和一個穿紅衣的女子一起走來。遠遠望去，兩人都美麗極了。她們漸漸走近，紅衣女子卻往後退，說：「這裡有陌生人！」黃生猛地站起來，兩個女子驚慌地跑開，衣袖和裙襬隨風飄動，四周滿是香氣。他追過一道矮牆，周圍靜悄悄的，她們早已沒了蹤影。黃生越發愛慕她，便在樹下題了一首詩：「相思的苦楚無窮無盡，滿懷深情面對矮窗。只怕你歸了沙吒利，我又到哪裡尋找無雙？」回到書房，他陷入沉思。那女子忽然走進來，他又驚又喜，起身迎接。女子笑著說：「你氣勢洶洶，像個強盜，把人嚇壞了。沒想到你原來是個風雅的讀書人，那見見面也無妨。」黃生大略問了問她的身世。她說：「我的小名叫香玉，名籍在平康巷。被道士關在山裡，實在不是我情願的。」黃生問：「那道士叫什麼？我一定替你洗去這份屈辱。」女子說：「不必了，他也沒敢逼迫我。藉著這個機會，能和風流才子長久地私下相會，也很好。」黃生問：「穿紅衣的是誰？」她說：「她叫絳雪，是我的結義姐姐。」兩人便親熱起來。等到醒來，天邊已經泛紅。女子急忙起身，說：「只顧貪戀歡愛，忘了天要亮了。」她穿好衣服，換上鞋，又說：「我作了一首詩回應你的詩，你別笑話：『美好的夜晚總是容易過去，早晨的太陽已經照上窗戶。願像屋梁上的燕子，在哪裡棲息都成雙成對。』」黃生握住她的手腕說：「你容貌美麗，心地聰慧，讓人愛得連死都忘了。可是，一天不見，就像遠隔千里。你一有空就來，別等到夜裡。」女子答應了。從此，兩人早晚都在一起。黃生每次讓她邀絳雪來，絳雪總是不來，他為此很遺憾。香玉說：「絳雪姐姐性情很疏淡，不像我這樣痴情。我會慢慢勸她來，你不必太著急。」一天晚上，香玉滿臉悲傷地走進來，說：「你連眼前的人都保不住，還想著再得到一個嗎？如今我們要永遠分別了。」黃生問：「你要到哪裡去？」她用衣袖擦著眼淚，說：「這都是命中註定的，很難向你說清。你前些日子作的好詩，如今竟成了預言。『美人已經歸沙吒利所有，如今卻沒有古押衙這樣的義士』，你可以用這兩句來詠歎我的遭遇。」黃生追問，她不肯說，只是不停地嗚咽。兩人整夜沒有睡，天一亮她就走了。黃生覺得很奇怪。第二天，即墨一個姓藍的人到道觀遊覽，看中了那株白牡丹，就把它挖出來，直接帶走了。黃生這才明白，香玉原來是花妖，惆悵嘆息不已。過了幾天，他聽說藍氏把花移到家裡後，花一天比一天枯萎。他悲痛到了極點，作了五十首哭花的詩，每天到留下的土坑邊流淚。一天，他剛憑弔回來，遠遠看見一個紅衣女子在土坑旁擦眼淚。他慢慢走近，女子也不躲避。黃生便拉住她的衣袖，兩人面對面地流淚。過了一會兒，他拉著她，請她進屋，她也跟著進去了。她嘆息說：「從小相伴的姐妹，一朝就斷了來往！聽說你這樣悲傷，更讓我痛心。眼淚落到九泉之下，也許能以誠意感動她，讓她重新活過來；可是死者的精神已經消散，哪能這麼快就回來，和我們兩人一起說笑呢？」黃生說：「我命薄，害了自己所愛的人，看來也沒有福氣享受兩位美人的陪伴。先前我多次麻煩香玉向你轉達我的心意，你為什麼一直不來？」女子說：「我以為年輕的讀書人，十個裡有九個薄情，沒想到你原來是個極重感情的人。不過，我和你交往，是出於情誼，並非為了男女歡愛。若要我日夜與你親暱，那我做不到。」說完，她便告辭。黃生說：「香玉永遠離開了，讓我吃不下、睡不著。我只盼你稍留一會兒，安慰我的思念，你怎麼這樣堅決地要走呢！」女子這才留下，過了一夜才走。此後幾天，她沒有再來。冷雨敲著幽暗的窗戶，黃生苦苦思念香玉，在床上翻來覆去，眼淚浸溼了枕頭和席子。他披上衣服，又起身撥亮燈芯，照著先前的韻腳再作了一首詩：「山中庭院下著黃昏的雨，垂下簾子，坐在小窗前。思念的人再也見不到，半夜裡眼淚成雙地流下。」詩寫完，他獨自吟誦。忽然，窗外有人說：「有人作詩，就不能沒有人唱和。」他聽出是絳雪，便開門讓她進來。女子看了詩，馬上接著寫道：「攜手相伴的人如今在哪裡？一盞孤燈照著夜晚的窗戶。空山裡只有一個人，與自己的影子相對，算作一雙。」黃生讀著讀著，眼淚又落下來，便埋怨她來得太少。女子說：「我不能像香玉那樣熱情，只能稍稍安慰你的寂寞。」黃生想和她親熱。她說：「相見的快樂，何必一定在這件事上。」此後，每當黃生孤獨難熬的時候，她就會來一次。來了便一起飲酒，作詩唱和，有時不留宿就走，黃生也由著她。他對她說：「香玉是我的愛妻，絳雪是我的好友。」他常常想問她：「你是院子裡的哪一株？請早些告訴我，我要把你帶回家栽種，免得像香玉那樣被惡人奪走，留下終身的遺憾。」女子說：「很難離開原來的土地，告訴你也沒用。妻子尚且不能始終跟著你，何況朋友呢！」黃生不聽，拉著她的胳膊出門，每到一株牡丹下，就問：「這是不是你？」女子不說話，只掩著嘴笑他。不久，黃生在臘月回家過年。到了二月，他忽然夢見絳雪來了，神色憂傷地說：「我有大難了！你趕快去，還能見到我；遲了就來不及了。」醒來後，他覺得這夢很不尋常，急忙叫僕人備馬，飛快地趕到山上。原來道士準備建屋，有一株耐冬妨礙施工，工匠正要揮斧砍下去。黃生急忙制止。到了夜裡，絳雪來道謝。黃生笑著說：「先前不肯據實告訴我，活該遭到這場災難！如今我已經知道你是哪一株了；你要是不來，我就拿艾炷來灸你。」女子說：「我早知道你會這樣，所以先前才不敢告訴你。」坐了一會兒，黃生說：「如今面對好友，我越發思念美麗的妻子。很久沒去哭香玉了，你能陪我一起去哭嗎？」兩人便去了，在土坑旁灑淚。過了一更多，絳雪擦乾眼淚，勸他別再哭了。又過了幾天，黃生正獨自靜坐，絳雪笑著進來說：「給你報個喜信：花神被你的深情感動，讓香玉重新來到宮中了。」黃生問：「什麼時候？」她回答：「不知道，大概不會太久。」天亮時，她起身下床，黃生叮囑說：「我是為了你才來的，別讓我長久地孤單著。」女子笑著答應。可接連兩夜，她都沒有來。黃生便去抱住那棵樹，又搖又摸，一聲聲叫她，卻沒有回應。於是，他回來對著燈把艾草揉成團，準備去燒樹。女子突然進來，奪過艾草扔掉，說：「你這樣惡作劇，要把人弄傷，我要和你斷絕來往了！」黃生笑著抱住她。還沒坐穩，香玉便輕盈地走了進來。黃生一看見她，眼淚直流，急忙起身握住她的手。香玉又用一隻手握住絳雪，兩人相對著，悲傷得說不出話來。等到坐下，黃生握著香玉，卻覺得她的手空空的，彷彿握著自己的手，便驚訝地問她。香玉流著淚說：「從前我是花的精魂，所以能凝成實體；如今我是花的鬼魂，所以形體消散了。現在雖然相聚，你別當作是真的，只當是在夢裡見面就好。」絳雪說：「妹妹來了，太好了！我快被你家的男人糾纏死了。」說完就走了。香玉仍像從前一樣溫柔地說笑，可是依偎在一起時，卻彷彿一個有形的身體靠著一團影子。黃生悶悶不樂，香玉也時時怨恨自己。於是她說：「你把白蘞研成粉，摻上少量硫黃，每天用一杯水澆給我。明年的今天，我會報答你的恩情。」說完，她便告別離去。第二天，黃生到原來的地方看，發現牡丹已經長出了新芽。他每天精心培育，又做了雕花的欄杆來保護它。香玉來了，越發感激他。黃生打算把牡丹移到自己家裡，女子不肯，說：「我身體柔弱，經不起再次傷害。況且萬物生長，各有自己的地方。我來到世上，本來就沒打算生長在你家，違背了這個安排，反而會縮短壽命。只要彼此憐惜愛護，總會有重新團聚的日子。」黃生為絳雪不來而遺憾。香玉說：「你要是一定想逼她來，我能把她叫來。」於是，她和黃生提著燈到樹下，取了一根草，把手掌張開作為尺度，在草上量出長度，再用它從下往上量樹幹，量到四尺六寸，按住那個地方，讓黃生用兩個指甲同時撓那裡。沒多久，絳雪從背後走出來，笑著罵道：「你這小丫頭，來幫著壞人欺負我嗎！」兩人拉著她，一起進屋。香玉說：「姐姐別怪我！暫且勞煩你陪伴郎君，一年以後就不再打擾你了。」從此，她們便常常這樣叫絳雪來。黃生看著牡丹新芽一天比一天粗壯茂盛，到春天結束時，已經長到兩尺多高。回家以後，他給道士送錢，囑咐他早晚照料。第二年四月，黃生來到宮中，見牡丹結了一朵花，還含著花苞，沒有開放。他正留戀地看著，花苞搖動著，像要綻開；片刻之後，花已經開了，大得像盤子，花蕊中分明坐著一個小美人，只有三四根手指那麼高。轉眼間，她飄然要下來，原來就是香玉。她笑著說：「我忍受著風雨等你，你怎麼來得這樣遲！」隨後便進了屋。絳雪也來了，笑著說：「天天替別人當妻子，如今總算可以退下來做朋友了。」三人便一起談笑飲宴。到了半夜，絳雪才離去。黃生和香玉同床而眠，親密恩愛，和從前一樣。後來，黃生的妻子去世，他便住進山裡，再也沒有回家。這時，牡丹已經長得像胳膊一樣粗。黃生常指著它說：「將來我要把魂魄寄託在這裡，長在你的左邊。」兩個女子笑著說：「你可別忘了。」又過了十多年，黃生忽然病了。他的兒子趕來，看著他，十分悲傷。黃生笑著說：「這是我要新生的時候，並非死去的時候，有什麼可悲傷的！」他對道士說：「將來牡丹下面如果有一根紅芽蓬勃地長出來，一下子展開五片葉子，那就是我。」此後，他便不再說話。兒子把他抬回家，他隨即去世。第二年，果然有一根粗壯的新芽冒出來，葉子的數目也和他說的一樣。道士覺得奇異，更加用心地澆灌它。三年後，它長到幾尺高，粗得要兩手合攏才能圍住，卻一直不開花。老道士死後，他的弟子不知道愛惜，把它砍掉了。白牡丹也隨之枯萎而死，沒過多久，耐冬也死了。
劳山下清宫，耐冬高二丈，大数十围，牡丹高丈余，花时璀璨似锦。胶州黄生，舍读其中。一日，自窗中见女郎，素衣掩映花间。心疑观中焉得此。趋出，已遁去。自此屡见之。遂隐身丛树中，以伺其至。未几，女郎又偕一红裳者来，遥望之，艳丽双绝。行渐近，红裳者却退，曰：「此处有生人！」生暴起。二女惊奔，袖裙飘拂，香风洋溢，追过短墙，寂然已杳。爱慕弥切，因题句树下云：
「无限相思苦，含情对短窗。恐归沙咤利，何处觅无双？」
归斋冥想。女郎忽入，惊喜承迎。女笑曰：「君汹汹似强寇，使人恐怖；不知君乃骚雅士，无妨相见。」生略叩生平。曰：「妾小字香玉，隶籍平康巷。被道士闭置山中，实非所愿。」生问：「道士何名？当为卿一涤此垢。」女曰：「不必，彼亦未敢相逼。借此与风流士长作幽会，亦佳。」问：「红衣者谁？」曰：「此名绛雪，乃妾义姊。」遂相狎。及醒，曙色已红。女急起，曰：「贪欢忘晓矣。」着衣易履，且曰：「妾酧君作，勿笑：
『良夜更易尽，朝暾已上窗。愿如梁上燕，栖处自成双。』」
生握腕曰：「卿秀外惠中，令人爱而忘死。顾一日之去，如千里之别。卿乘间当来，勿待夜也。」女诺之。由此夙夜必偕。每使邀绛雪来，辄不至，生以为恨。女曰：「绛姊性殊落落，不似妾情痴也。当从容劝驾，不必过急。」一夕，女惨然入，曰：「君陇不能守，尚望蜀耶？今长别矣。」问：「何之？」以袖拭泪，曰：「此有定数，难为君言。昔日佳作，今成谶语矣。『佳人已属沙咤利，义士今无古押衙』，可为妾咏。」诘之，不言，但有呜咽。竟夜不眠，早旦而去。生怪之。次日，有即墨蓝氏，入宫游瞩，见白牡丹，悦之，掘移径去。生始悟香玉乃花妖也，怅惋不已。过数日，闻蓝氏移花至家，日就萎悴。恨极，作哭花诗五十首，日日临穴涕洟。一日，凭吊方返，遥见红衣人，挥涕穴侧。从容近就，女亦不避。生因把袂，相向汍澜。已而挽请入室，女亦从之。叹曰：「童稚姊妹，一朝断绝！闻君哀伤，弥增妾恸。泪堕九泉，或当感诚再作；然死者神气已散，仓卒何能与吾两人共谈笑也。」生曰：「小生薄命，妨害情人，当亦无福可消双美。曩频烦香玉道达微忱，胡再不临？」女曰：「妾以年少书生，什九薄幸；不知君固至情人也。然妾与君交，以情不以淫。若昼夜狎暱，则妾所不能矣。」言已，告别。生曰：「香玉长离，使人寝食俱废。赖卿少留，慰此怀思，何决绝如此！」女乃止，过宿而去。数日不复至。冷雨幽窗，苦怀香玉，辗转床头，泪凝枕席。揽衣更起，挑灯复踵前韵曰：
「山院黄昏雨，垂帘坐小窗。相思人不见，中夜泪双双。」
诗成自吟。忽窗外有人曰：「作者不可无和。」听之，绛雪也。启户内之。女视诗，即续其后曰：
「连袂人何处？孤灯照晚窗。空山人一个，对影自成双。」
生读之泪下，因怨相见之疏。女曰：「妾不能如香玉之热，但可少慰君寂寞耳。」生欲与狎。曰：「相见之欢，何必在此。」于是至无聊时，女辄一至。至则宴饮唱酧，有时不寝遂去，生亦听之。谓曰：「香玉吾爱妻，绛雪吾良友也。」每欲相问：「卿是院中第几株？乞早见示，仆将抱植家中，免似香玉被恶人夺去，贻恨百年。」女曰：「故土难移，告君亦无益也。妻尚不能终从，况友乎！」生不听，捉臂而出，每至牡丹下，辄问：「此是卿否？」女不言，掩口笑之。旋生以腊归过岁。至二月间，忽梦绛雪至，愀然曰：「妾有大难！君急往，尚得相见；迟无及矣。」醒而异之，急命仆马，星驰至山。则道士将建屋，有一耐冬，碍其营造，工师将纵斤矣。生急止之。入夜，绛雪来谢。生笑曰：「向不实告，宜遭此厄！今已知卿；如卿不至，当以艾炷相炙。」女曰：「妾固知君如此，曩故不敢相告也。」坐移时，生曰：「今对良友，益思艳妻。久不哭香玉，卿能从我哭乎？」二人乃往，临穴洒涕。更余，绛雪收泪劝止。又数夕，生方寂坐，绛雪笑入曰：「报君喜信：花神感君至情，俾香玉复降宫中。」生问：「何时？」答曰：「不知，约不远耳。」天明下榻，生嘱曰：「仆为卿来，勿长使人孤寂。」女笑诺。两夜不至。生往抱树，摇动抚摩，频唤无声。乃返，对灯团艾，将往灼树。女遽入，夺艾弃之，曰：「君恶作剧，使人创痏，当与君绝矣！」生笑拥之。坐未定，香玉盈盈而入。生望见，泣下流离，急起把握。香玉以一手握绛雪，相对悲哽。及坐，生把之觉虚，如手自握，惊问之。香玉泫然曰：「昔，妾花之神，故凝；今，妾花之鬼，故散也。今虽相聚，勿以为真，但作梦寐观可耳。」绛雪曰：「妹来大好！我被汝家男子纠缠死矣。」遂去。香玉款笑如前；但偎傍之间，仿佛一身就影。生悒悒不乐。香玉亦俯仰自恨。乃曰：「君以白蔹屑，少杂硫黄，日酹妾一杯水，明年此日报君恩。」别去。明日，往观故处，则牡丹萌生矣。生乃日加培植，又作雕栏以护之。香玉来，感激倍至。生谋移植其家，女不可，曰：「妾弱质，不堪复戕。且物生各有定处，妾来原不拟生君家，违之反促年寿。但相怜爱，合好自有日耳。」生恨绛雪不至。香玉曰：「必欲强之使来，妾能致之。」乃与生挑灯至树下，取草一茎，布掌作度，以度树本，自下而上，至四尺六寸，按其处，使生以两爪齐搔之。俄见绛雪从背后出，笑骂曰：「婢子来，助桀为虐耶！」牵挽并入。香玉曰：「姊勿怪！暂烦陪侍郎君，一年后不相扰矣。」从此遂以为常。生视花芽，日益肥茂，春尽，盈二尺许。归后，以金遗道士，嘱令朝夕培养之。次年四月至宫，则花一朵，含苞未放；方流连间，花摇摇欲拆；少时已开，花大如盘，俨然有小美人坐蕊中，裁三四指许；转瞬飘然欲下，则香玉也。笑曰：「妾忍风雨以待君，君来何迟也！」遂入室。绛雪亦至，笑曰：「日日代人作妇，今幸退而为友。」遂相谈䜩。至中夜，绛雪乃去。二人同寝，款洽一如从前。后生妻卒，遂入山，不复归。是时，牡丹已大如臂。生每指之曰：「我他日寄魂于此，当生卿之左。」二女笑曰：「君勿忘之。」后十余年，忽病。其子至，对之而哀。生笑曰：「此我生期，非死期也，何哀为！」谓道士曰：「他日牡丹下有赤芽怒生，一放五叶者，即我也。」遂不复言。子舆之归家。即卒。次年，果有肥芽突出，叶如其数。道士以为异，益灌溉之。三年，高数尺，大拱把，但不花。老道士死，其弟子不知爱惜，斫去之。白牡丹亦憔悴死；无何，耐冬亦死。
劳山的下清宫里，有一株耐冬，高两丈，树干粗有几十围，还有一株一丈多高的牡丹，开花时光彩夺目，像锦绣一样。胶州的黄生住在这里读书。一天，他从窗户里看见一个年轻女子，穿着白衣，身影在花丛中时隐时现。他心里纳闷，道观里怎么会有这样的女子，便赶紧跑出去，她却已经不见了。从此，他又多次看见她，于是藏身在树丛里，等她出现。没过多久，那女子又和一个穿红衣的女子一起走来。远远望去，两人都美丽极了。她们渐渐走近，红衣女子却往后退，说：“这里有陌生人！”黄生猛地站起来，两个女子惊慌地跑开，衣袖和裙摆随风飘动，四周满是香气。他追过一道矮墙，周围静悄悄的，她们早已没了踪影。黄生越发爱慕她，便在树下题了一首诗：“相思的苦楚无穷无尽，满怀深情面对矮窗。只怕你归了沙吒利，我又到哪里寻找无双？”回到书房，他陷入沉思。那女子忽然走进来，他又惊又喜，起身迎接。女子笑着说：“你气势汹汹，像个强盗，把人吓坏了。没想到你原来是个风雅的读书人，那见见面也无妨。”黄生大略问了问她的身世。她说：“我的小名叫香玉，名籍在平康巷。被道士关在山里，实在不是我情愿的。”黄生问：“那道士叫什么？我一定替你洗去这份屈辱。”女子说：“不必了，他也没敢逼迫我。借着这个机会，能和风流才子长久地私下相会，也很好。”黄生问：“穿红衣的是谁？”她说：“她叫绛雪，是我的结义姐姐。”两人便亲热起来。等到醒来，天边已经泛红。女子急忙起身，说：“只顾贪恋欢爱，忘了天要亮了。”她穿好衣服，换上鞋，又说：“我作了一首诗回应你的诗，你别笑话：‘美好的夜晚总是容易过去，早晨的太阳已经照上窗户。愿像屋梁上的燕子，在哪里栖息都成双成对。’”黄生握住她的手腕说：“你容貌美丽，心地聪慧，让人爱得连死都忘了。可是，一天不见，就像远隔千里。你一有空就来，别等到夜里。”女子答应了。从此，两人早晚都在一起。黄生每次让她邀绛雪来，绛雪总是不来，他为此很遗憾。香玉说：“绛雪姐姐性情很疏淡，不像我这样痴情。我会慢慢劝她来，你不必太着急。”一天晚上，香玉满脸悲伤地走进来，说：“你连眼前的人都保不住，还想着再得到一个吗？如今我们要永远分别了。”黄生问：“你要到哪里去？”她用衣袖擦着眼泪，说：“这都是命中注定的，很难向你说清。你前些日子作的好诗，如今竟成了预言。‘美人已经归沙吒利所有，如今却没有古押衙这样的义士’，你可以用这两句来咏叹我的遭遇。”黄生追问，她不肯说，只是不停地呜咽。两人整夜没有睡，天一亮她就走了。黄生觉得很奇怪。第二天，即墨一个姓蓝的人到道观游览，看中了那株白牡丹，就把它挖出来，直接带走了。黄生这才明白，香玉原来是花妖，惆怅叹息不已。过了几天，他听说蓝氏把花移到家里后，花一天比一天枯萎。他悲痛到了极点，作了五十首哭花的诗，每天到留下的土坑边流泪。一天，他刚凭吊回来，远远看见一个红衣女子在土坑旁擦眼泪。他慢慢走近，女子也不躲避。黄生便拉住她的衣袖，两人面对面地流泪。过了一会儿，他拉着她，请她进屋，她也跟着进去了。她叹息说：“从小相伴的姐妹，一朝就断了来往！听说你这样悲伤，更让我痛心。眼泪落到九泉之下，也许能以诚意感动她，让她重新活过来；可是死者的精神已经消散，哪能这么快就回来，和我们两人一起说笑呢？”黄生说：“我命薄，害了自己所爱的人，看来也没有福气享受两位美人的陪伴。先前我多次麻烦香玉向你转达我的心意，你为什么一直不来？”女子说：“我以为年轻的读书人，十个里有九个薄情，没想到你原来是个极重感情的人。不过，我和你交往，是出于情谊，并非为了男女欢爱。若要我日夜与你亲昵，那我做不到。”说完，她便告辞。黄生说：“香玉永远离开了，让我吃不下、睡不着。我只盼你稍留一会儿，安慰我的思念，你怎么这样坚决地要走呢！”女子这才留下，过了一夜才走。此后几天，她没有再来。冷雨敲着幽暗的窗户，黄生苦苦思念香玉，在床上翻来覆去，眼泪浸湿了枕头和席子。他披上衣服，又起身拨亮灯芯，照着先前的韵脚再作了一首诗：“山中庭院下着黄昏的雨，垂下帘子，坐在小窗前。思念的人再也见不到，半夜里眼泪成双地流下。”诗写完，他独自吟诵。忽然，窗外有人说：“有人作诗，就不能没有人唱和。”他听出是绛雪，便开门让她进来。女子看了诗，马上接着写道：“携手相伴的人如今在哪里？一盏孤灯照着夜晚的窗户。空山里只有一个人，与自己的影子相对，算作一双。”黄生读着读着，眼泪又落下来，便埋怨她来得太少。女子说：“我不能像香玉那样热情，只能稍稍安慰你的寂寞。”黄生想和她亲热。她说：“相见的快乐，何必一定在这件事上。”此后，每当黄生孤独难熬的时候，她就会来一次。来了便一起饮酒，作诗唱和，有时不留宿就走，黄生也由着她。他对她说：“香玉是我的爱妻，绛雪是我的好友。”他常常想问她：“你是院子里的哪一株？请早些告诉我，我要把你带回家栽种，免得像香玉那样被恶人夺走，留下终身的遗憾。”女子说：“很难离开原来的土地，告诉你也没用。妻子尚且不能始终跟着你，何况朋友呢！”黄生不听，拉着她的胳膊出门，每到一株牡丹下，就问：“这是不是你？”女子不说话，只掩着嘴笑他。不久，黄生在腊月回家过年。到了二月，他忽然梦见绛雪来了，神色忧伤地说：“我有大难了！你赶快去，还能见到我；迟了就来不及了。”醒来后，他觉得这梦很不寻常，急忙叫仆人备马，飞快地赶到山上。原来道士准备建屋，有一株耐冬妨碍施工，工匠正要挥斧砍下去。黄生急忙制止。到了夜里，绛雪来道谢。黄生笑着说：“先前不肯据实告诉我，活该遭到这场灾难！如今我已经知道你是哪一株了；你要是不来，我就拿艾炷来灸你。”女子说：“我早知道你会这样，所以先前才不敢告诉你。”坐了一会儿，黄生说：“如今面对好友，我越发思念美丽的妻子。很久没去哭香玉了，你能陪我一起去哭吗？”两人便去了，在土坑旁洒泪。过了一更多，绛雪擦干眼泪，劝他别再哭了。又过了几天，黄生正独自静坐，绛雪笑着进来说：“给你报个喜信：花神被你的深情感动，让香玉重新来到宫中了。”黄生问：“什么时候？”她回答：“不知道，大概不会太久。”天亮时，她起身下床，黄生叮嘱说：“我是为了你才来的，别让我长久地孤单着。”女子笑着答应。可接连两夜，她都没有来。黄生便去抱住那棵树，又摇又摸，一声声叫她，却没有回应。于是，他回来对着灯把艾草揉成团，准备去烧树。女子突然进来，夺过艾草扔掉，说：“你这样恶作剧，要把人弄伤，我要和你断绝来往了！”黄生笑着抱住她。还没坐稳，香玉便轻盈地走了进来。黄生一看见她，眼泪直流，急忙起身握住她的手。香玉又用一只手握住绛雪，两人相对着，悲伤得说不出话来。等到坐下，黄生握着香玉，却觉得她的手空空的，仿佛握着自己的手，便惊讶地问她。香玉流着泪说：“从前我是花的精魂，所以能凝成实体；如今我是花的鬼魂，所以形体消散了。现在虽然相聚，你别当作是真的，只当是在梦里见面就好。”绛雪说：“妹妹来了，太好了！我快被你家的男人纠缠死了。”说完就走了。香玉仍像从前一样温柔地说笑，可是依偎在一起时，却仿佛一个有形的身体靠着一团影子。黄生闷闷不乐，香玉也时时怨恨自己。于是她说：“你把白蔹研成粉，掺上少量硫黄，每天用一杯水浇给我。明年的今天，我会报答你的恩情。”说完，她便告别离去。第二天，黄生到原来的地方看，发现牡丹已经长出了新芽。他每天精心培育，又做了雕花的栏杆来保护它。香玉来了，越发感激他。黄生打算把牡丹移到自己家里，女子不肯，说：“我身体柔弱，经不起再次伤害。况且万物生长，各有自己的地方。我来到世上，本来就没打算生长在你家，违背了这个安排，反而会缩短寿命。只要彼此怜惜爱护，总会有重新团聚的日子。”黄生为绛雪不来而遗憾。香玉说：“你要是一定想逼她来，我能把她叫来。”于是，她和黄生提着灯到树下，取了一根草，把手掌张开作为尺度，在草上量出长度，再用它从下往上量树干，量到四尺六寸，按住那个地方，让黄生用两个指甲同时挠那里。没多久，绛雪从背后走出来，笑着骂道：“你这小丫头，来帮着坏人欺负我吗！”两人拉着她，一起进屋。香玉说：“姐姐别怪我！暂且劳烦你陪伴郎君，一年以后就不再打扰你了。”从此，她们便常常这样叫绛雪来。黄生看着牡丹新芽一天比一天粗壮茂盛，到春天结束时，已经长到两尺多高。回家以后，他给道士送钱，嘱咐他早晚照料。第二年四月，黄生来到宫中，见牡丹结了一朵花，还含着花苞，没有开放。他正留恋地看着，花苞摇动着，像要绽开；片刻之后，花已经开了，大得像盘子，花蕊中分明坐着一个小美人，只有三四根手指那么高。转眼间，她飘然要下来，原来就是香玉。她笑着说：“我忍受着风雨等你，你怎么来得这样迟！”随后便进了屋。绛雪也来了，笑着说：“天天替别人当妻子，如今总算可以退下来做朋友了。”三人便一起谈笑饮宴。到了半夜，绛雪才离去。黄生和香玉同床而眠，亲密恩爱，和从前一样。后来，黄生的妻子去世，他便住进山里，再也没有回家。这时，牡丹已经长得像胳膊一样粗。黄生常指着它说：“将来我要把魂魄寄托在这里，长在你的左边。”两个女子笑着说：“你可别忘了。”又过了十多年，黄生忽然病了。他的儿子赶来，看着他，十分悲伤。黄生笑着说：“这是我要新生的时候，并非死去的时候，有什么可悲伤的！”他对道士说：“将来牡丹下面如果有一根红芽蓬勃地长出来，一下子展开五片叶子，那就是我。”此后，他便不再说话。儿子把他抬回家，他随即去世。第二年，果然有一根粗壮的新芽冒出来，叶子的数目也和他说的一样。道士觉得奇异，更加用心地浇灌它。三年后，它长到几尺高，粗得要两手合拢才能围住，却一直不开花。老道士死后，他的弟子不知道爱惜，把它砍掉了。白牡丹也随之枯萎而死，没过多久，耐冬也死了。
At the Lower Palace of Purity on Mount Lao there was a camellia twenty feet tall and dozens of spans round, and a peony more than ten feet tall; in flower they glittered like brocade. A scholar named Huang, of Jiaozhou, lodged there to study. One day, from his window, he saw a young woman in white half hidden among the flowers. He wondered how such a person came to be in a Daoist temple. He hurried out, but she had already fled. After that he saw her many times. So he hid among the trees to wait for her. Before long the young woman came again, with another dressed in red. Watching them from a distance, he saw that both were dazzlingly lovely. As they came nearer, the one in red drew back. “There’s a stranger here!” Huang sprang up. The two girls ran off in alarm, sleeves and skirts fluttering, a fragrant breeze spilling all around. He chased them past a low wall, and all was silent; they were gone. His longing grew sharper than ever, and he wrote some lines on a tree:
“Endless the pain of longing;full of feeling I face the low window.I fear she will go to Shazhali —where then shall I seek my Wushuang?”
He went back to his study and sat lost in thought. Suddenly the young woman came in. Surprised and delighted, he rose to greet her. She smiled. “You came at us so fiercely, like a bandit, that you frightened us. I didn’t know you were a man of letters. There is no harm in meeting you.” Huang asked a little about her life. “My girlhood name is Xiangyu,” she said. “My name is on the rolls of Pingkang Lane, the pleasure quarter. A Daoist has shut me away in these mountains. It was never my wish.” “What is the Daoist’s name?” Huang asked. “I will wash this disgrace away for you.” “There is no need,” she said. “He has never dared to force me. And this way I can keep secret trysts with a man of taste for a long time — that is good too.” “Who is the one in red?” he asked. “Her name is Jiangxue. She is my sworn elder sister.” Then they made love. When they woke, the dawn was already red. She got up in haste. “I enjoyed myself so much I forgot the morning.” As she put on her clothes and changed her shoes, she said, “I have written an answer to your poem. Don’t laugh at it:
‘On a lovely night the watches run out too fast;already the morning sun climbs the window.I wish we were like the swallows on the beamthat nest together, two by two.’”
Huang took her by the wrist. “You are lovely without and wise within. You make a man love you and forget death. A single day apart from you is like a parting of a thousand li. Come whenever you find a chance; don’t wait for night.” She promised. From then on they were together morning and night. Each time he had her ask Jiangxue to come, Jiangxue never came, and Huang was sorry for it. “Sister Jiang is very aloof by nature,” said Xiangyu. “She is not as lovesick as I am. I will coax her round in good time; don’t be in too great a hurry.” One evening Xiangyu came in looking stricken. “You cannot keep even the one you have, and you are still hoping for the other? Now we must part forever.” “Where are you going?” he asked. She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “It is fated. It is hard to explain to you. Your fine poem of the other day has become a prophecy. ‘The beauty already belongs to Shazhali; the knight of honour is gone, there is no Officer Gu today’ — you may chant that for me.” He pressed her, but she would not say, and only sobbed. She did not sleep all night, and left at first light. Huang thought it strange. The next day a man named Lan from Jimo came into the temple to look around. He saw the white peony and took a fancy to it, dug it up and carried it straight off. Only then did Huang understand that Xiangyu was a flower spirit, and he grieved and sighed without end. A few days later he heard that Lan had moved the flower to his house and it was wilting day by day. In bitter grief he wrote fifty poems lamenting the flower, and every day he went to the hole where it had been and wept. One day, as he was coming back from mourning there, he saw the one in red in the distance, wiping away tears beside the hole. He went up to her slowly, and she did not run away. He took her sleeve, and they wept face to face. Then he took her hand and asked her into his room, and she went with him. She sighed. “We were sisters from childhood, and in one morning it is cut off! Hearing you grieve only deepens my sorrow. If our tears fall to the Nine Springs, perhaps their sincerity will move her to live again. But the spirit of the dead is already scattered; how could she come back so soon to talk and laugh with the two of us?” “I am an unlucky man,” said Huang. “I bring harm to the one I love, and I suppose I have no fortune to enjoy two beauties. I asked Xiangyu again and again to tell you how I felt. Why did you never come?” “I thought young scholars were faithless, nine in ten of them,” she said. “I did not know you were a man of true feeling. But my friendship with you is a matter of affection, not lust. To be intimate day and night — that I cannot do.” With that she said goodbye. “Now that Xiangyu has gone forever,” said Huang, “I can neither sleep nor eat. I was counting on you to stay a little and comfort my longing. Why be so final?” So she stayed, and left after the night was over. For several days she did not come again. Cold rain at the dark window; he missed Xiangyu bitterly, tossing and turning on his bed, his tears soaking the pillow and mat. He threw on his clothes and got up again, trimmed the lamp and wrote to the same rhymes as before:
“Evening rain in the mountain court;I sit at the small window, the curtain down.The one I long for is not to be seen;at midnight my tears fall two by two.”
He finished it and recited it to himself. Suddenly someone outside the window said, “A poem should not go without an answer.” He listened: it was Jiangxue. He opened the door and let her in. She looked at the poem and at once wrote after it:
“Where is the one who walked with me, sleeve by sleeve? A lone lamp lights the window at night.In the empty hills, one person alonemakes a pair with his own shadow.”
Huang wept as he read it, and reproached her for coming so seldom. “I cannot be as warm as Xiangyu,” she said, “but I can comfort your loneliness a little.” Huang wanted to make love to her. “The joy of being together need not lie in that,” she said. After that, whenever he was most at a loss, she would come. When she came they drank together and traded poems, and sometimes she left without going to bed; Huang let her do as she pleased. He told her, “Xiangyu is my beloved wife; Jiangxue is my good friend.” He kept asking her, “Which plant in the courtyard are you? Tell me soon. I will carry you home and plant you there, so that you are not snatched away by some villain like Xiangyu, leaving me a hundred years of regret.” “It is hard to move from your native soil,” she said. “Telling you would do no good. Even your wife could not stay with you to the end — still less a friend!” Huang would not listen. He took her by the arm and led her out, and at every peony he asked, “Is this you?” She said nothing, only covered her mouth and laughed at him. Soon afterwards Huang went home in the twelfth month for the New Year. In the second month he suddenly dreamed that Jiangxue came to him, looking grave. “I am in great danger! Come at once and you may still see me; any later and it will be too late.” He woke wondering at it, quickly called for his servant and horse, and rode through the night to the mountain. The Daoists were about to put up a building, and a camellia was in the way; the carpenter was just about to swing his axe. Huang quickly stopped him. That night Jiangxue came to thank him. Huang laughed. “You wouldn’t tell me the truth before, so you deserved this trouble! Now I know which you are. If you don’t come, I’ll burn you with moxa.” “I knew you would do something like this,” she said. “That is why I didn’t dare tell you before.” After they had sat a while, Huang said, “Now that I am facing my good friend, I miss my lovely wife all the more. It is long since I wept for Xiangyu. Will you weep with me?” So the two of them went and wept at the hole. After a watch or more, Jiangxue dried her tears and urged him to stop. A few evenings later, as Huang sat alone, Jiangxue came in laughing. “I bring you good news. The Flower God was so moved by the depth of your love that Xiangyu is to come down to the temple again.” “When?” Huang asked. “I don’t know, but it won’t be long.” At daybreak she got up from the couch, and Huang told her, “I came here for your sake. Don’t leave me lonely for long.” She laughed and promised. For two nights she did not come. Huang went and put his arms round the tree, shaking it and stroking it, calling her again and again, but there was no answer. So he went back, rolled moxa by the lamp and was about to go and burn the tree. She burst in, snatched the moxa and threw it away. “You and your nasty tricks! You would scar me. I am done with you!” Huang laughed and took her in his arms. Before they had settled down, Xiangyu came gracefully in. When Huang saw her his tears streamed down, and he rose quickly to take hold of her. Xiangyu took Jiangxue’s hand in one of hers, and the two looked at each other, choked with grief. When they sat down, Huang held her and felt nothing there, as if he were clasping his own hand. Startled, he asked her why. Xiangyu wept. “Before, I was the spirit of a flower, so I was solid. Now I am the ghost of a flower, so I am thin as air. We are together now, but don’t take it for real. Think of it as a dream, that is all.” “It is a very good thing you have come, little sister!” said Jiangxue. “Your man has pestered me half to death.” And she left. Xiangyu laughed and was tender as before, but when she nestled against him it was like a body leaning on a shadow. Huang was unhappy, and Xiangyu too kept blaming herself. Then she said, “Take powdered white ampelopsis root, mix in a little sulphur, and pour me a cup of water every day. A year from today I will repay your kindness.” She said goodbye and left. The next day he went to look at the old place: a peony shoot had come up. Huang tended it every day, and made a carved railing to protect it. When Xiangyu came, she was more grateful than ever. Huang planned to move it to his home, but she would not have it. “I am frail. I could not bear to be hurt again. Besides, every living thing has its place. I did not come intending to live in your house; going against that would only shorten my life. As long as we love each other, our day of union will come.” Huang was sorry that Jiangxue did not come. “If you really want to force her to come,” said Xiangyu, “I can bring her.” She went with Huang to the tree, carrying a lamp, and took a stalk of grass. Using the span of her hand as a measure, she measured the trunk from the bottom up to four feet six inches, pressed the spot, and told Huang to scratch it with the nails of both hands at once. Soon Jiangxue came out from behind the tree, laughing and scolding. “You little wretch, have you come to help the tyrant at his cruelty?” Xiangyu took her by the hand and drew her in with them. “Don’t be angry, sister! Just keep my husband company for a while. After a year we won’t trouble you any more.” From then on this became the custom. Huang watched the shoot grow plumper and more luxuriant every day; by the end of spring it was over two feet tall. When he went home he gave money to the Daoist and asked him to tend it morning and evening. In the fourth month of the following year he came to the temple. There was one flower, still in bud, not yet open. As he lingered beside it, the flower swayed as if about to burst; in a moment it had opened, a flower as big as a plate, and there, sitting in its heart, was a tiny beauty only three or four fingers tall. In the blink of an eye she floated down — it was Xiangyu. “I bore the wind and rain waiting for you,” she said with a smile. “Why are you so late?” And they went in. Jiangxue came too, laughing. “Day after day I have stood in as someone’s wife. Now, luckily, I can retire and be a friend.” So they talked and feasted, and at midnight Jiangxue left. The two of them slept together, as loving as before. Later Huang’s wife died, and he went into the mountains and did not go home again. By then the peony was as thick as an arm. Huang often pointed to it and said, “One day I will lodge my soul here, and grow on your left.” The two girls laughed. “Don’t forget, then.” More than ten years later he suddenly fell ill. His son came and grieved over him. Huang laughed. “This is my day of birth, not my day of death. Why grieve?” He told the Daoist, “One day a red shoot will thrust up beneath the peony and put out five leaves at once. That will be me.” Then he said nothing more. His son carried him home, and he died. The next year a plump shoot did burst up, with just that number of leaves. The Daoist thought it strange and watered it all the more. In three years it was several feet tall and as thick as two hands could circle, but it never flowered. When the old Daoist died, his disciple did not know to cherish it and cut it down. The white peony too withered and died, and before long the camellia died as well.