Cheng, a scholar of Baixia1, was open and forthright by nature and did not fence himself in with petty scruples. One day he came home and loosened his sash. It felt heavy, as if something were hanging from it; he looked, and saw nothing. As he turned about, a woman stepped out from behind his robe, smoothing back her hair and smiling. She was very beautiful. Cheng suspected she was a ghost. “I am not a ghost,” she said. “I am a fox.” “For a beauty,” said Cheng, “I would not fear even a ghost — let alone a fox!” And he became her lover. Two years later she bore a daughter, whose childhood name was Qingmei2. She often said to Cheng, “Don’t marry. I will bear you a son.” So Cheng did not marry, and his friends and kin all jeered at him. In the end his resolve gave way, and he was betrothed to a woman of the Wang family east of the lake. When the fox heard, she was furious. She took the girl and suckled her, then handed her over to Cheng. “This is your family’s money-loser3,” she said. “Raise her or kill her, it’s up to you. Why should I be a wet nurse for someone else?” She went out the door and was gone.

Qingmei grew up clever, with fine, delicate looks — the very image of her mother. Then Cheng fell ill and died, and his widow remarried and left. Qingmei lived on the charity of an uncle, a cousin of her father’s. He was a wastrel with no morals and meant to sell her to line his own pockets. It happened that a jinshi4 named Wang was at home waiting for an official post. Hearing how clever she was, he bought her for a large sum and set her to wait on his daughter, Axi. Axi was fourteen, a beauty without equal in her day. She was delighted with Qingmei and had her share her room. Qingmei was good at seeing what was wanted: she could listen with her eyes and speak with her brows. So the whole household grew fond of her.

In the county there was a scholar named Zhang, courtesy name Jieshou. His family was very poor and owned no property, and they rented rooms in the Wang house. Zhang was utterly devoted to his parents, strict in his conduct, and earnest in his studies. Once Qingmei happened to call at their rooms. She saw Zhang sitting on a stone eating husk gruel; then she went in to chat with his mother and saw a pig’s trotter laid out on the table. His father was sick in bed at the time. Zhang went in and held him up to relieve himself, and the urine soiled Zhang’s clothes. The old man felt it and was ashamed of himself. Zhang hid the stain and hurried out to wash it himself, afraid his father would know. All this made Qingmei think him remarkable. She went back and told what she had seen. “The man who lodges with us is no ordinary man,” she said to Axi. “If you don’t want a good husband, miss, that’s that. But if you do, Zhang is the one.” Axi was afraid her father would scorn him for his poverty. “Not so,” said Qingmei. “It depends on you. If you think he’ll do, I’ll tell him secretly to send a matchmaker. Your mother is sure to call you in to talk it over. Just answer ‘Yes,’ and it will be settled.” Axi was afraid he would stay poor and she would be the laughingstock of the world. “I believe I can read the men of the world,” said Qingmei. “I won’t be wrong.” The next day she went to tell old Mrs. Zhang. The old woman was aghast and said it was ill-omened talk. “Miss has heard about your son and thinks well of him,” said Qingmei. “I sounded out her mind, and that’s why I speak. If a matchmaker goes, the two of us will take his side, and it should go through. And even if it doesn’t, what shame is it to your son?” “Very well,” said the old woman, and she asked Mrs. Hou, a flower seller5, to go. Wang’s wife heard it, laughed, and told Wang, and Wang laughed loudly too. They called their daughter in and told her what Mrs. Hou had come about. Before Axi could answer, Qingmei broke in to praise Zhang’s worth and declared that he was sure to rise high. Then her mother asked her, “This is for the rest of your life. If you can bear to eat husks and bran, we will say yes for you.” Axi kept her head bowed a long while. Then, facing the wall, she answered, “Poverty and wealth are fate. If his fate is good, he will not be poor for long, and there will be no end to the time he is not. If his fate is thin — well, of the young lords in silk and brocade, are there few who end up without ground to stand an awl on? It is for my parents to decide.” Wang had brought the matter up with his daughter only for a laugh. When he heard her answer he was displeased. “So you want to marry into the Zhang family?” She did not answer. He asked again; again she did not answer. He said angrily, “Base-boned good-for-nothing! You want to carry a basket and be a beggar’s wife? You should die of shame!” Axi flushed red and choked. Holding back her tears, she withdrew. The matchmaker fled too.