Now, once Jinge had found his uncle, he and his grandmother held each other and wept bitterly. Bai Xiong, tears in his own eyes, comforted them for a long time before they stopped. Then old Mrs. Bai1 said, “If your father and mother came to the capital, why didn’t they come here to me?” “It was because we were looking for you, Grandmother, that the tiger carried me off,” said Jinge, and he told them how his father had come to the capital to sit the examinations, and how his mother had come too, to visit her mother while they were there. “My father and mother agreed that after the examinations we would look for you, Grandmother, and that’s why we came to the foot of Wanquan Mountain today. But nobody we asked knew where you lived, so Mother and I waited on the bluestone, and Papa went off through the eastern pass to look. Just then a tiger came out all of a sudden and carried me off in its mouth, and after that I didn’t know anything — and then Uncle saved me and brought me here. But my father and mother — who knows how hard they must be crying by now? They’ll make themselves ill with grief!” And with that he began to cry again. “This place is several li from Wanquan Mountain,” said Bai Xiong. “It’s called Babao Village. You were asking around the eastern pass — how could anyone there have known? Don’t cry, nephew. It’s late in the day already. Tomorrow I’ll go to the eastern pass and look for your father and mother.” With that he hurried to get a meal ready, and brought out some medicine for wounds as well. Old Mrs. Bai dusted the boy off, washed his face, combed his hair and put the medicine on his wounds. And fearing that a little child like him would pine for his father and mother, she did everything she could to coax and cheer him.

At dawn the next day Bai Xiong tucked his axe into his belt, took up his carrying pole and made straight for Wanquan Mountain. At the bluestone he looked this way and that, but there was not so much as the shadow of a soul. As he stood gazing about, he suddenly saw a man coming from over there, hair wild and face smeared with blood, holding up the front of his robe in his left hand and clutching a red shoe in his right, rushing headlong straight at him. Bai Xiong was just about to speak when the man raised the shoe and struck at him, crying, “You cur! Beat a gentleman, would you? Kill a gentleman, would you?” Bai Xiong dodged quickly aside and took a good look at him: the man looked rather like his brother-in-law, Fan Zhongyu. But when he questioned him, the man was out of his wits and made no sense at all. Then it struck Bai Xiong: “Why don’t I go home and bring my nephew here on my back, and see if he knows him?” So he said, “You there, madman, wait here a little while. I’ll be right back.” And he went straight off to Babao Village.

And who, you may ask, was the madman? None other than Fan Zhongyu. After hearing what the old woodcutter told him, he had hurried to Duhu Village and boldly demanded his wife back at the Marquis of Weilie’s very gate. But that hateful villain Ge secretly used the old stratagem of lulling the enemy2 and kept Fan there; then, when night came, he accused him of murdering one of the household servants for no reason. At a single shouted order a rain of clubs fell on Fan, and he was beaten until the breath left his body and he died. Then Ge had his men get a chest, put Fan inside it, and at the fifth watch carry it out to the wilds and dump it. But on the way, as it happened, they ran into a band of heralds3, who robbed them of the chest. These heralds had come, in fact, to announce that Fan had been named top graduate4, first of them all. Finding nobody at his lodgings and the door locked, they asked around and were told that Fan had gone with his whole family to Wanquan Mountain to visit relatives, so they had hurried after him through the night. Chancing on two men carrying a chest between them, they decided it must be something stolen in the dead of night; and since they were out in open country, with numbers on their side, they seized the chest. The men carrying it ran off. Reckoning they had come into a windfall, the heralds pulled out the ropes and the pole and hurried to open it up. Who could have expected it? Fan, who had been dead, came back to life. He sprang upright, leapt out of the chest, and gripping a red shoe, laid about him wildly. Seeing him with his hair hanging loose and blood all over him, a dreadful sight, the whole crowd scattered. And Fan went staggering on, wherever his feet took him, until he came to Wanquan Mountain and ran into Bai Xiong.

Now to return to Bai Xiong. When he got home, he told his mother what had happened, took Jinge on his back and hurried to Wanquan Mountain. But by the time he got there, the madman had long since gone, who knew where. There was nothing Bai Xiong could do but carry Jinge home again. Yet he did not shrink from the trouble. He found out from Jinge exactly where they were staying in the city, and though it was a good forty li and more from Babao Village into the city, he cared nothing for the distance and went straight there. But when he reached Fan’s lodgings, he found them still locked up: it was a case of ‘come in high spirits5, go home with them dashed.’ Then all at once he heard everyone in the streets saying that Fan Zhongyu, the new top graduate, had vanished without a trace. At this his heart filled with joy, and he said to himself, “Since he’s been made top graduate, the authorities are sure to have men out searching for him, and he’s bound to turn up. I’ll go home for now and tell them the good news, and then I’ll question my nephew carefully.” Bai Xiong went home from the city, saw his mother and told her everything. When Jinge heard that his father and mother had vanished, he burst into bitter tears, and old Mrs. Bai comforted him for a long time before he stopped. Then Bai Xiong questioned his nephew carefully, and Jinge told him the whole story: how he and his mother had ridden in a cart and his father on the donkey to the foot of the mountain; how his father had turned the donkey loose to graze; how mother and son had waited on the bluestone; how his father had gone off through the eastern pass to ask around; and how it was just then that the tiger had carried him off. Bai Xiong fixed every word in his mind, meaning to go and search again the next day.

Just think of the toil Bai Xiong went through that day: there and back, he covered a good hundred and forty or fifty li — hard going indeed. But while we have been telling of his toil on this side, we have left out the main story on the other. The old storybooks say, ‘One mouth can’t tell two families’ tales at once,’ and how true that is! For on that one day of his toil, a great deal was happening.

And what, you may ask, was happening? Well, on the west side of Drum Tower Street in the city there was a timber yard, the Xinglong Timber Yard, run by men from Shanxi: two brothers, the elder named Qu Shen and the younger Qu Liang. Qu Shen was nothing much to look at, and on top of that he had a bristly beard sticking out all round his mouth, so everyone called him Qu the Beard (Qu Huzi). He loved the cup above all things and was tipsy every day, which earned him a second nickname: Wine Yeast6 (Jiu Quzi). But fond of drink as he was, he never let it get in the way of business, and with Qu Liang to help him, he had made their trade as sound as an iron bucket, and it flourished. Now, south of Wanquan Mountain lay the wharf where the timber merchants landed their wood. One day Qu Shen talked it over with Qu Liang. “Hear tell the new timber’s in,” he said. “Yours truly7’s gonna go have a look. If it’s the right stuff, we’ll take some wholesale — be a bargain, eh?” Qu Liang was all for it. He filled a money bag with four hundred taels of fine silver and saddled a jack donkey, soy-brown dappled with white. This donkey loved nothing better than running with the herd: with no other donkeys on the road, it wouldn’t go properly, and the moment it saw one, off it went in pursuit — a bad habit it had got into. Qu Shen took the money bag with the silver, slung it over the donkey’s saddle, mounted and made straight for the south side of Wanquan Mountain.

At the wharf the timber merchants all knew him well. He looked over a great deal of timber, but the prices were all wrong. Still, there is a rule in business: ‘No deal, but the goodwill stays.’ No timber was bought, but wine and food had to be laid on all the same. The moment Qu Shen set eyes on the wine, the greedy worm inside him woke up. A cup here and a cup there, talking and laughing, he was enjoying himself so much that he forgot about going home. Then he happened to look up and saw the sun already sinking in the west. Now he was in a fluster. “Yours truly’s still gotta get into the city! Gettin’ late, gettin’ late!” Still talking, he got up, bowed low with his hands clasped, hurried to lead out his brown dappled donkey and made straight for Wanquan Mountain.

The more of a hurry he was in, the less the donkey would go. He lashed it on one side and lashed it on the other, cursing, “Ya son of a bitch, ya stinkin’ turd! ‘Feed the troops a thousand days, use ’em for one!’ The ol’ sun’s near gone, an’ here ya are dawdlin’ on me!” Before he had finished, the donkey suddenly pricked up its ears, gave a loud ‘Hee-haw!’ and went careering off, all four hooves flying. Qu Shen knew its ways: it must have heard a donkey braying up ahead, and it was bound to chase it. So he gathered up the reins and let it run — anything was better than dawdling. And sure enough, after much running, there was a donkey up ahead. The moment his donkey saw it, up went its forelegs, and it bucked and leapt about. Qu Shen couldn’t stay in the saddle and slid off over its rump. He scrambled to his feet and gave it a good beating with his whip; then there was nothing for it but to grab it by the bit, turn it round and tie it to a little elm over to one side. When he went over to look, it was a black donkey, fully saddled. This was the very black donkey Fan had ridden the day before: he had turned it loose to graze and, in his panic, left it behind. The black donkey had had no bran or fodder all night and had wandered off as it pleased, reins trailing, out beyond the eastern pass; and so here it was, still grazing. Qu Shen looked it over for a long time, then shouted, “Whose black donkey’s this?” He shouted several times, but nobody answered. “Now that’s a fine black donkey!” he said to himself. He looked in its mouth too — only four teeth8 — and it was sleek and well fleshed, and its saddle was bright and handsome besides. He thought to himself: “Nobody about. Why shouldn’t yours truly swap the damn thing?” At once he fetched the money bag, slung it across the black donkey, gave the reins a tug and swung himself up. Off went the black donkey at a smooth, easy amble — and amazingly fast. Qu Shen was delighted, thinking he had got himself a bargain.

Suddenly the weather changed. A wild wind sprang up, and a blast of yellow sand stung his eyes so that he could hardly keep them open. By now it was time to light the lamps. Qu Shen was in two minds. “The way things are,” he said to himself, “ain’t no gettin’ into the city now. An’ me with four hunnerd taels o’ silver — what’s a feller to do? If I run into some thug with a cudgel up ahead on Wanquan Mountain, that’ll be a fine mess! Best find some folks’ place an’ beg a bed for the night.” As he was thinking this, he saw ahead of him a slope shaped like a saddlebag, and up on its south side, all of a sudden, a light. Qu Shen got off the black donkey, led it up the slope and came to the door.

Then from inside he heard a woman saying, “‘Marry a man, marry a man, for clothes to wear and food to eat.’ Who ever heard of a man letting his wife go hungry?” And he heard a man answer, “You’re going hungry — and what have I had to eat?” The woman came straight back at him: “You’ve had nothing to eat, but you’ve been pouring the yellow stuff9 down your throat.” “Who’s stopping you from drinking too?” said the man. “If I were a drinker, I’d have started long ago,” said the woman. “Whenever you do get your hands on something, it’s never firewood and rice you think of buying — first thing, you see to your wine!” “Can’t be helped,” said the man. “It’s just my mouth’s good luck.” “Since you’re so fond of having it handed to you,” said the woman, “why don’t I go out tomorrow and earn it myself, and you can eat your fill and live like a lord?” “Don’t talk rubbish,” said the man. “I may be poor, but I’m a good fellow.” “A good fellow!” said the woman. “Where in all the streets would you find another good fellow like you?” Hearing this, Qu Shen thought he would not knock after all. But when he looked about him, it was dark on every side, and there was no other light anywhere. He had no choice but to rap on the door with his whip. “Beg pardon! Lookin’ for a bed for the night!” But inside, they had fallen silent.

Qu Shen called for a good while longer before he heard the woman ask, “Who are you after?” “I’m a traveller,” said Qu Shen. “It’s got dark, so — beg pardon — I’m lookin’ for a bed for the night. I’ll pay ya handsome tomorrow.” “Wait a bit,” said the woman. After another long while, a man came out carrying a lantern. “What do you want?” he asked. Qu Shen bowed with his hands clasped. “I’m on the road, see. It’s gettin’ late an’ I can’t go on, so I’m troublin’ ya — lookin’ for a bed for the night. I’ll pay ya handsome tomorrow.” “Oh, is that all?” said the man. “That’s nothing. Please come in and sit down.” “I got a donkey too,” said Qu Shen. “Bring him in, by all means,” said the man. The donkey was tied to a tree on the east side, and the man led the way in with the lantern and showed his guest into the house.

Qu Shen picked up his money bag and followed behind. Inside, he saw a thatched house of three rooms, two of them opening into each other and one shut off. He put the bag down on the kang and greeted the man properly all over again. The man returned his greeting. “It’s only a poor thatched hut,” he said. “Don’t laugh at it, boss.” “Aw, don’t say that,” said Qu Shen. “Your honoured name?” the man asked. “And where do you make your fortune?” “Name’s Qu, Qu Shen,” said Qu Shen. “Got me a timber yard in the city, on Drum Tower Street — the Xinlun Timber Yard. An’ I ain’t had the honour o’ yer good name yet?” “My name’s Li,” said the man. “Li Bao.” “So it’s Brother Li!” said Qu Shen. “Pleased t’ meet ya, pleased t’ meet ya.” “You’re too kind, too kind,” said Li Bao. “Brother Qu, I’ve heard so much about you.”

And who, you may ask, was this Li Bao? None other than the Li Bao whom Minister Li had sent with Lord Bao when he went to the capital for the examinations. Later, when Lord Bao was dismissed from office, Li Bao decided he would never rise again, and so he made off with the baggage and the silver. Day after day he was off in the pleasure quarters, and in no time at all he had run through the lot. Down on his luck, he drifted here and found work at Old Li’s inn. Old Li and his wife saw how hard-working and careful he was, and since they had no son, only a daughter, they took him in as a live-in son-in-law10 to care for them in their old age. Who would have thought it? He did not mend his ways: whoring, gambling, eating and drinking as before, he fairly drove the old couple to their graves with vexation. Then he took over the inn, and with nothing left to hold him back, he lived as loose and free as he pleased. On top of that, his wife, Mrs. Li, was a greedy, lazy woman herself, and within a year or two the inn was shut. Later, when they were truly at their wits’ end, they pawned and sold off the furniture and fittings at the front, then pulled down the buildings and sold them for what they would fetch, until only the three thatched rooms were left; and by now they were as poor as if they had been washed clean. And of all people, it was the luckless Qu Shen who came to them for a night’s lodging.

That evening, as Li Bao was chatting with him, he saw that the lamp had run out of oil. He got up, went to the east room, lifted the tattered cloth curtain and went in to fetch oil. There his wife asked him in a whisper, “Just now, when he put that thing down on the kang, it went thump. What is it?” “A money bag,” said Li Bao. The woman was delighted. “It’s fate — we’re meant to get rich!” “How do you make that out?” said Li Bao. “Oh, you dumb bunny!” said the woman. “Just the one money bag, and heavy at that — it has to be hard silver. Now go and ask him if he drinks. If he does, the thing’s eight parts done. There’s wine enough. Get him as drunk as you can, and I know what to do next.”

Li Bao understood. He hurried out with the oil pot, filled the lamp and trimmed it nice and bright. Then it was ‘Brother’ this and ‘Brother’ that, and when the talk was at its liveliest, he asked, “Brother Qu, are you a drinking man?” Those few words set Qu Shen’s mouth watering, and the craving was more than he could bear. “Middle o’ the night like this?” he answered. “Where’s a feller gonna get a drink?” “There’s wine right here,” said Li Bao. “To tell you the truth, Brother, there’s nothing I love more than a drink.” “Now yer talkin’!” said Qu Shen. “I like a drop too. Why, you an’ me’s real bosom pals!” As they talked, Li Bao warmed the wine, and they sat down facing each other. For one thing Qu Shen loved to drink; for another Li Bao had his designs. One cup pressed on him, then another, then a third, until Qu Shen was dead drunk, swaying back and forth, unable even to speak. He shoved the money bag over toward the wall, and no sooner had his head touched the pillow than he was snoring away.

By now Mrs. Li had come out. “He’s drunk, all right,” Li Bao whispered, “but what do we do now?” “Get a rope,” said the woman. “What do you want a rope for?” said Li Bao. “You thick-headed bastard!” said the woman. “Strangle him, and that’s the end of it.” Li Bao shook his head. “A man’s life is a matter for Heaven. This is no game.” The woman flew into a rage. “You want to get rich, but you haven’t the nerve! Gutless cuckold! Is your old lady to starve right along with you, then?” By now Li Bao was past caring about the law of the land, and he fetched the rope. The woman had already shifted the rickety kang table out of the way. Seeing Li Bao shaking all over, she knew he could not bring himself to do it. The wicked woman snatched the rope from him, quickly climbed onto the kang and went round to Qu Shen’s inner side, by the wall. Gently, gently, she passed the end of the rope under the money bag he was using for a pillow, slowly brought it round and pulled a knot tight. Then she beckoned Li Bao up onto the kang and handed him one end, keeping hold of the other herself; the two of them hauled in opposite directions, and the woman braced her foot and heaved. Qu Shen’s hands and feet jerked and splayed. By now, however frightened Li Bao was, he had no choice but to pull with all his strength. Before long Qu Shen lay still — and Li Bao went limp himself. The wicked woman hurriedly pulled out the money bag and reached inside: sealed packet after sealed packet, eight in all. Her heart was full of joy.

To learn what happened next, read the next chapter.