Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Read Online Free PDF Page A

surprised. She was graceful and dainty, green-bloused and long-gowned. Though he sensed that she might not be human, Sung questioned her about her home town.
    “Can’t you see I’m not going to bite you? Why bother with all these questions?” she replied.
    Greatly attracted, Sung shared his bed with her that night. When she took off her gossamer jacket, her waist was so slender that two hands could enclose it. Later, as the last night drum sounded, she fluttered away and was gone.
    She came every evening after that. Once when they were having wine together, her conversation revealed a knowledge of music. “Your voice is so bewitching,” Sung said. “If you would compose a song it would melt my heart.”
    “For that very reason,” replied the maiden, “I must not sing.” He pleaded, and she explained, “Your serving maid would not begrudge you the song, but what if someone should hear? Still, if you insist, I can only show my poor skills—just a whispered sign of my affection.” As she sang, she tapped her tiny foot lightly upon the couch.
    No butcherbird must catch
This slave girl’s midnight song.
No chill night dew can stay me
From keeping my lord company.
     
    Her voice was a fine hum, the words barely audible. But to the absorbed listener the movement of the melody was lissome and ardent, affecting the heart as it touched the ear.
    When the song was over, she opened the door and peered outside. “I must make sure no one is out there.” She looked all around Sung’s chamber before reentering.
    “What makes you so anxious?” he said.
    “The proverb ‘A ghost that steals into the world fears all men’ applies to me.” Then she went to bed, but she was still uneasy. “The end of our relationship may be at hand,” she said. Sung pressed her for an explanation. “My heart is restless,” she told him. “I sense danger. My life will end.”
    Sung tried to calm her. “Such flutters of the heart are normal,” he said. “Do not jump to conclusions.” The maiden seemed relieved, and they embraced again.
    When the water clock had run dry and it was morning, the maiden put on her clothes and got out of bed. She was about to open the door, but walked back and forth instead. Finally she returned to him. “I don’t know why,” she said, “but fear is in my heart. Please see me out.” The youth arose and escorted her outside. “Keep an eye on me,” she said. “You may go back after I get over the wall.” Sung agreed. He watched as she rounded the corridor, then could see her no more.
    Sung was about to return to bed when he heard her cry out desperately. He rushed toward the sound, but there was no sign of her—only a noise under the eaves. Looking carefully, he saw a spider the size of a pellet with something in its clutches that made a whining sound. Sung broke the web, picked out the object, and removed the threads that bound it. The captive was a green bee on the verge of death. He took it to his room, where it rested on his desk for a long while. When the bee was able to walk, it slowly climbed to the inkwell and pitched itself in. Then it crawled out and walked back and forth until it had formed the word “Thanks.” The bee stirred its wings and with a last effort flew out of the window, ending the relationship forever.
    —
P’u Sung-ling

Butterfly Dreams
     
    Chuang Tzu said, “Once upon a time I dreamed myself a butterfly, floating like petals in the air, happy to be doing as I pleased, no longer aware of myself! But soon enough I awoke and then, frantically clutching myself, Chuang Tzu I was! I wonder: Was Chuang Tzu dreaming himself the butterfly, or was the butterfly dreaming itself Chuang Tzu? Of course, if you take Chuang Tzu and the butterfly together, then there’s a difference between them. But that difference is only due to their changing material forms.”
    —
Chuang Tzu

     

Suited to Be a Fish
     
    Hsüeh Wei was appointed deputy assistant magistrate in