Now, ever since Lord Bao had been raised to Chief Minister, he had toiled day after day in the Emperor’s service. Fearing neither the powerful nor the wicked, he laid his proposals before the throne in all uprightness, and His Majesty granted every one of them. Of all the civil and military officials at court, which of them did not look up to him? Even those who had long borne him a grudge could do nothing against him now. One day, when the morning audience was over, Lord Bao came back to the Kaifeng yamen, went into his study and wrote a letter in his own hand. He told Bao Xing to prepare a handsome gift, with three hundred taels of silver besides, and a capable runner was chosen to take it all to Yujie Village in Wujin County, Changzhou Prefecture, and invite the Southern Hero, Zhan Zhao, to join him. Lord Bao also wrote a letter home, to go along with the rest. The runner had only just left when the head runner on duty came in and knelt before him. “May it please Your Excellency, there are two people outside, a man and a woman, crying ‘Injustice!’ They have come to lay a complaint.” Lord Bao ordered the drum beaten and opened court, and the two were brought before him at once. Seeing that the man and the woman were both about fifty, Lord Bao had the old woman brought up first. She came forward, knelt and told her story. “My name is Yang, Your Excellency. My husband was a man named Huang; he died long ago. I have two daughters: the elder is called Jinxiang and the younger Yuxiang. My younger girl was promised as a wife to Zhao Guosheng’s son, and yesterday his family came and took her home as a bride. Seeing my daughter married off, I couldn’t help feeling sad. But after she’d gone, what should I find but that my elder girl had vanished! I hurried about looking for her everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found, and I was nearly dead with worry. Just think, Your Excellency: all my life I’ve had nothing to lean on but my daughters. A widow with no one to provide for her, I always reckoned that one day my two sons-in-law would look after me, each of them half a son1 to me. And now I’ve lost my elder girl, and nobody knows where she’s gone. There I was, frantic and heartbroken, crying my eyes out, when who should come looking for me but our in-law, Zhao Guosheng, making a great to-do and saying I’d swapped one daughter for the other! We argued back and forth and couldn’t get it straight, so we’ve come here. I beg Your Excellency to judge between us — and to find my daughter for me!” When Lord Bao had heard her out, he asked, “Have you any relatives who often come to the house?” “Relatives!” said the Widow Huang. “Never mind relatives — even the neighbours up and down the street hardly ever come round unless they need something. I’m a poor lonely old woman, I am!” And with that she began to cry.

Lord Bao had the old woman taken down and Zhao Guosheng brought up. Zhao Guosheng came forward, knelt and told his side. “I am Zhao Guosheng, Your Excellency. The Widow Huang and I are related by marriage. She has two daughters: the elder is ugly and the younger is pretty, and the one I betrothed to my son was the younger. But when we’d brought the bride home and had a look at her, it was her elder girl! So I hurried round to her house to have it out with her: why had she swapped them? But the Widow Huang turned it round on me — said I’d carried off both her daughters as brides and was taking advantage of a poor lone widow! So I’ve come before Your Excellency to beg you to judge between us.” “Zhao Guosheng,” asked Lord Bao, “are you quite sure it is her elder daughter?” “How could I not be sure?” said Zhao Guosheng. “Back when her husband was still alive, before we made the match, I saw both her girls. The elder is as ugly as can be and the younger is very pretty. It was because I took a liking to the younger girl that I betrothed her to my son. That ugly one — I’d never have taken her!” Lord Bao heard him out and nodded. “Go home, both of you, for now,” he said, “and wait until you are summoned.”

Lord Bao left the court and went to his study to turn the matter over. Bao Xing poured him some tea and respectfully brought it to him. But Lord Bao sat swaying in his chair, his eyes staring fixedly; he said nothing and did not take the tea. Seeing this, Bao Xing hurriedly put the cup down and asked softly, “Sir, what’s the matter?” Suddenly Lord Bao went rigid. “What a stench of blood!” he said — and fell over backwards, senseless. Bao Xing caught hold of him, crying, “Sir! Sir!” Li Cai and the others came rushing in from outside, and between them they lifted him onto the couch. Word soon reached the inner quarters. When Lady Li heard, she was frightened and bewildered, and she hurried to the study to see him; Li Cai and the others quickly withdrew. She found Lord Bao lying on the couch, his brows knitted tight and his eyes closed as though he could not open them; his limbs never stirred, and he said not a word. Lady Li looked him over but could not tell what was wrong. She was still at a loss when Bao Xing said outside the window, “My lady, Registrar2 Gongsun has come to take the master’s pulse.” At this Lady Li had no choice but to withdraw with her maids.

Bao Xing brought Mr. Gongsun to the couch in the study. Gongsun Ce searched carefully for the root of the illness. He felt the pulse at the left wrist and said, over and over, “Nothing serious.” Then he felt the right and said, “Strange!” “Sir,” asked Bao Xing at his side, “what do you think His Excellency is suffering from?” “As far as I can tell,” said Gongsun Ce, “His Excellency’s six pulses are even and calm. There is no illness at all.” He felt Lord Bao’s brow and his chest and listened to his breathing, which was steady too: he seemed simply to be asleep. Bao Xing told him all that had happened a little while before. Gongsun Ce was puzzled to hear it, and still he could not make out where the illness had come from. For the time being all he could do was send Bao Xing in to comfort Lady Li and tell her that His Majesty would have to be informed. He himself wrote a memorial reporting the illness, and at the fifth watch the next morning he took it to court and presented it.

When the Emperor heard the memorial, he sent imperial physicians to Kaifeng Prefecture to take Lord Bao’s pulse, but they could not tell what the illness was either. Soon the Empress Dowager knew of it too, and people were coming forward with folk remedies. But it was no use: Lord Bao lay senseless, knowing nothing and taking neither food nor drink, sunk in a heavy sleep and nothing more. Fortunately Mr. Gongsun knew a good deal of medicine, and he was in and out of the study, taking Lord Bao’s pulse and looking after him. As for Bao Xing and Li Cai, that goes without saying: day and night they stayed close about him and never left his side. Even Lady Li came to the study several times a day. And outside, Gongsun Ce and the four brave men were all beside themselves, wringing their hands and heaving sigh after sigh, but there was nothing at all they could do.

Five days went by like this, one after another. Gongsun Ce found Lord Bao’s pulse growing weaker and weaker, and everyone grew frantic. Bao Xing alone felt it differently from the rest. Seeing his master in such a state, he remembered how, when Lord Bao had been dismissed from office, he had fallen ill at the Great Xiangguo Temple just as he had now, and how it was only thanks to the monk Liaoran3’s treatment that he had come through. And as ill luck would have it, Liaoran had since gone off wandering. That set Bao Xing thinking of all the dangers they had passed through and all the hardships of the road, and how, after such a struggle, they had come at last to where they were now. Who would have thought the old illness would come back, and that this time there would be no curing it? The more he thought, the more wretched he grew, until the tears were streaming down his face. He was still weeping when the runner who had been sent to Changzhou came back. “Zhan Zhao wasn’t at home,” he reported. “His old servant said, ‘Whenever my master comes back, he’s sure to hurry to Kaifeng as fast as he can. He would never repay His Excellency’s great kindness with ingratitude.’” And he went on, “The letter home was delivered too, and I’ve brought the answer back with me. All is well with your master’s family.” The runner said a good deal more, but Bao Xing only stared into space and nodded. He took the letter from home and carried it inside. The letter said nothing more than that all was well.

And where, you may ask, had the Southern Hero gone? He was a man who lived to do right, drifting like duckweed on the water, with no fixed course. Ever since he had seized the mule litter, taken Jin Yuxian to the Guanyin Shrine and parted from Ma Han, he had roamed famous mountains by day and slept in old temples by night; and wherever there was an injustice, who knows how many more wrongs he set right? As he idled his way from place to place, he happened to hear people everywhere passing on the story and talking it over: the mother of the realm, it seemed, was surnamed Li and not Liu; it was all thanks to Lord Bao that this had come to light; and Lord Bao had now entered the Grand Secretariat and been made Chief Minister. It was the great news of the day, and it was going from mouth to mouth everywhere. When the Southern Hero heard it, he was secretly delighted. “Why don’t I go to Kaifeng and pay him a visit?” he thought.

One day at noon he came to Yulin Town, went upstairs in a tavern and sat drinking alone. He was just raising his cup when a woman came up to him. She was about thirty, sallow and thin, worn and wasted, yet still something of a beauty; and her clothes, when he looked at them, were of coarse cloth but spotlessly clean. She seemed about to speak, then held back; she hesitated a long while, blushing to the tips of her ears, before at last she said, “My name is Wang, sir. My husband is called Hu Cheng, and we live in Sanbao Village. It’s been a year of drought and bad harvests, and we’ve had no way to make a living, and now my mother-in-law and my husband have both fallen ill. I’m at my wits’ end — that’s the only reason I’ve come out to show my face in public4 and beg in the streets. I beg you, kind sir, help us a little.” With that she made him a deep curtsy, and the tears fell before she could stop them. Moved by her pitiful story, Zhan Zhao reached into his money belt, took out half an ingot of silver and laid it on the table. “In that case,” he said, “take this silver and hurry home and buy medicine, and use the rest to keep you all while they get well. Don’t go begging in the streets any more.” The woman saw that it was a good big half-ingot, more than three taels, and dared not take it. “If you’d be so kind, sir, a few cash would be plenty,” she said. “A gift as generous as this — I really don’t dare accept it.” “What nonsense!” said Zhan Zhao. “I give you alms, and you refuse them? I don’t understand it.” “There’s something you don’t know, sir,” said the woman. “I only beg because I have no choice. If I take this silver home today, I’m afraid my mother-in-law and my husband will suspect me instead, and then your kindness, sir, will have been wasted.” Zhan Zhao saw the sense in this. But the waiter, standing by, chimed in: “Don’t you worry. The gentleman says it’s alms, so take it home. If your mother-in-law and your husband make trouble, just send your husband here to see me — I’ll be your witness. Surely that sets your mind at rest?” “Just so,” said Zhan Zhao at once. “Take it, and don’t worry any more.” The woman made Zhan Zhao another deep curtsy, picked up the silver and went downstairs. The waiter topped up Zhan Zhao’s wine, took his order for more food and went downstairs too.

But it so happened that at another table sat a man who, when he saw Zhan Zhao give the woman half an ingot of silver, gave a soft little laugh. His name was Ji Lou’er, a crafty fellow full of tricks, and a thoroughly bad lot. “You shouldn’t have given that woman so much silver, sir,” he said to Zhan Zhao. “She does it on purpose. It’s her line of business. The last time somebody gave her silver, her husband came round afterwards to squeeze him: said he’d taken liberties with his wife, and wouldn’t let the matter drop till he’d forced a hundred taels out of him to cover the shame. Now you’ve given her silver, sir, I’m afraid her husband will be along before long to squeeze you too.” Zhan Zhao paid it no great heed, yet he could not help turning it over in his mind. “If it’s as this man says, who in the world would dare do a good deed? If the husband really tries to squeeze me, I’m not afraid of him — but others might well fall into his trap. Come to think of it, a man like that is truly hateful! Very well: I’ve nothing else to do. Why not take a stroll over to Sanbao Village? If it’s really so, I’ll give him what he deserves, so he won’t try it again.” His mind made up, he finished his wine and food, paid and went downstairs, and out in the street he asked the way to Sanbao Village and set off. It was not far. Seeing that it was still early, and that by the road there was a Taoist temple called Tongzhen Temple, Zhan Zhao took lodgings there. The old Taoist of the temple, Xing Ji, had gone off on some business to perform rites at an altar, and there were only two young Taoists in the temple, named Tan Ming and Tan Yue. Zhan Zhao settled in the west hall, outside the temple’s second gate.

When the first watch was sounded, Zhan Zhao changed into his night-walker’s clothes, left Tongzhen Temple and made his way to Hu Cheng’s house in Sanbao Village. Already he could hear the old woman coughing, the man grumbling bitterly and the wife weeping, on and on without a stop. Then he heard the old woman say, “If her heart hadn’t strayed, how would she come by so much silver?” The man took it up: “Say no more, Mother. Tomorrow we’ll have her family come and take her back, and that’ll be the end of it.” He did not hear the wife say a word in her own defence; she only sobbed and sobbed. Hearing this, the Southern Hero remembered what the woman had said in the tavern that afternoon — she had seen it coming — and he sighed and sighed. Then, suddenly looking up, he saw a shadowy figure outside the fence and heard it call out loudly, “You took my silver and said yes to me, so you ought to have come out sooner. If you won’t come out now, you’d better give me my silver back, and quick!” At this the Southern Hero’s fury shot up to the stars. He rushed out through the wattle gate, reached out and seized the man, and when he looked closely, it was Ji Lou’er. Ji Lou’er was terrified. “Spare my life, Great King5!” he begged. The Southern Hero made no answer. He lifted him with ease and hustled him into the yard, and then he too called out in a loud voice: “I am none other than the Night Patrol God6! Just now I met the Day Patrol God, and he told me this: at noon today a virtuous wife, dutiful to her elders and chaste, whose mother-in-law and husband lay sick, swallowed her shame and went out to beg. In a tavern she met an upright gentleman, who pitied the dutiful wife and gave her half an ingot of silver. But a villain saw it, wicked thoughts rose in him at once, and tonight he has come to extort money from her family. While this god is here, shall a villain be suffered to ruin her? Come with this god out into the wilds, so that no trouble falls on this good and honest household!” With that he hauled Ji Lou’er out through the wattle gate and was gone. When Hu Cheng and his mother heard this, they understood at last how their daughter-in-law had come by the silver. They hurried to comfort Madam Wang, deeply moved by her goodness. But no more of them.

Now, the Southern Hero hauled Ji Lou’er out into the open country, drew his sword and killed him. Then, seeing a little path winding off at a slant, he thought it might bring him out on the main road and strolled along it. Ahead of him rose a stretch of high wall. Looking closely, he saw that it was the back of Tongzhen Temple, where the rear pavilion stood, and he was delighted. “Who’d have thought it — I’ve found a short cut,” he said to himself. “Why not go in from the back and save myself the trouble?” With a spring he was on top of the wall; he swung himself over, dropped lightly down inside and went on, treading softly. Then he noticed a lamp flickering in a side court. “It’s already halfway through the third watch,” he thought. “Why is there still a light? I’ll take a look.” He pushed the gate, but it was shut, so he sprang up onto the wall. A shadow was cast on the window that looked like the young Taoist Tan Yue. Then he heard a woman say, “We’ve laid our plan, you and I, but I wonder whether they’ll stand for it, now my sister’s gone in my place.” And he heard the young Taoist say, “Even if they won’t, my mother-in-law will give them their answer. What’s there to be afraid of? Don’t fret so. On a fine night like this, the thing that matters is for us to go to the Yang Terrace7 together.” And with that he got to his feet. Hearing this much, Zhan Zhao said to himself, “So the young Taoist is up to shady business like this! That’s hardly proper conduct for a man who has left the world. I’ll see to it properly tomorrow.” He had only just turned away when he heard the woman speak again. “Let me ask you something. You said Grand Preceptor Pang was out to do away with Lord Bao in secret. How has that gone, in the end?” At these words Zhan Zhao quickly drew back his foot and bent his ear to listen. He heard Tan Yue say, “You don’t know. This magic8 of my master’s never misses — a hundred shots, a hundred hits. He’s set up an altar in Grand Preceptor Pang’s garden, and it’s been going five days already. Come the seventh day, it’s bound to work. Then he’ll get a thousand taels of silver for his pains, and I’ll steal it, and we’ll fly far away together. Won’t we be man and wife for good then?”

At this Zhan Zhao was thunderstruck. He dropped down from the wall at once, hurried to the hall at the front, tied up his bundle and, without changing his clothes or taking his leave, made straight for the city of Bianliang9. In next to no time he was at the city wall. The sky was full of stars, and when he listened, the fourth watch was just being sounded. There was nothing else for it. Zhan Zhao got across the moat to the foot of the wall, opened his bundle, took out his wall-scaling rope, set it in place the proper way and climbed the wall step by step. Then he drew the rope up after him, fixed it at the top and let himself down the other side. When his feet touched solid ground, he shook the rope loose, packed it into his bundle, slung the bundle over his shoulder and made straight for Grand Preceptor Pang’s mansion. Outside the garden wall he found a small tree and hung his bundle on it; only then did he leap into the garden. There he saw a tall altar platform, with candles lit and incense burning, and on it an old Taoist, his hair hanging loose10, working his magic. Zhan Zhao stole up onto the high platform and, behind the old Taoist’s back, quietly drew his sword.

To learn whether the old Taoist lived or died, read the next chapter.