He looked up, and there was Yingning.

slipped and she fell, which finally put a stop to her laughing. Wang helped her up, gently squeezing her wrist as he did so, whereupon she started laughing again at once and had to lean against the tree, incapable of further movement. Wang waited for her laughter to come to an end (which took quite some time), and then he produced the withered plum-blossom from his sleeve and showed it to her.

She took it in her hands. 'It's dead. Why have you kept it?'

'It is the blossom you dropped at the Lantern Festival,' he replied. 'That is why I kept it.'

'But what for?'

'As a keepsake. To show that I have always loved you, that I have never forgotten you. Since I saw you that day of the Lanterns, my longing for you has made me ill. It has reduced me to a shadow of my former self. I never thought I should have this chance to see you again. Take pity on me. Be kind.'

'Of course I'll be kind, silly! Cousins are supposed to be kind, aren't they? When you go, I shall tell one of the women to pick you a whole bundle of flowers from the garden.'

'Are you out of your mind?'

'What do you mean, out of my mind?'

'It's not the blossom I love. It's the person who held it in her hand.'

'We're not even that closely related. How can you talk about loving me?'

'I don't love you as a relation. I love you as a man loves a woman, as a husband loves a wife...'

'What difference is there?'

'Husband and wife share the same pillow and mat at night. They sleep together.'

Yingning lowered her head in thought for a while. 'I am certainly not used to sleeping with strange men.'

Imperceptibly, as she was speaking, her maid arrived, and Wang made a somewhat confused departure.

A little later, they all met again in the old lady's presence.

'And where have you been?' she inquired.

'Talking together in the garden,' replied Yingning.

'The meal's been ready a long while,' said the old woman. 'What can you have been so busy talking about that kept you so long?'

'Cousin Wang says he wants to sleep with me,' she blurted out.

Wang was acutely embarrassed by this and cast her a disapproving glance. She smiled back at him and said no more. Luckily the old lady had not caught her words, and as she persisted with her questions, Wang hastily diverted her attention and changed the subject, at the same time whispering to Yingning that she had been indiscreet.

'Shouldn't I have said what I just said?' she protested.

'Not in front of others. It's a secret.'

'I don't have any secrets from Mother. And besides, where one chooses to sleep is not so special. There's no secret about that, surely?'

Wang found her naive way of speaking quite exasperating, but could think of no way to make her understand. When they had eaten, a number of his servants arrived from home with two mules, having been sent in search of their young master by his mother, who had become most anxious when he had failed to return. She had already sent out several search parties in the countryside immediately round their village, with no success. She had then called on his cousin Wu, to seek his advice, and Wu remembered the story he had improvised for Wang earlier and suggested to his aunt that she should search in the hills to the south-west. The servants had searched the villages one by one, and finally arrived at this one just as Wang was walking out of the cottage door. He went in to tell the old woman he was going home, and asked if Yingning could go back with him. She seemed only too delighted.

'I've been meaning to take her to meet her family for a long while. But I'm getting so old and weak these days, I can't travel far. It would be so nice if you could take her with you to meet her auntie!'

She called for Yingning, who came in, laughing.

'What are you so happy about,' grumbled the old woman, 'that you're forever laughing? If it were not for that, you'd be a fine young lady.' She looked at her crossly. 'Your cousin wants to take you home with him. Quickly now, go and get your things ready.'

She gave the Wang servants something to eat and drink, and then saw them all off, giving her daughter a few parting injunctions.

'Your aunt's family own a great deal of property and land. I'm sure they have enough to feed an extra mouth or two. You should stay there if you can, and try to get yourself some schooling and breeding, and then when you get married you'll know what it means to be a dutiful daughter-in-law. I shall ask Auntie to find you a nice husband.'

And so the two of them set out. When they reached the ridge to the north, they looked back and could just make out the form of the old woman leaning against the cottage doorway, gazing up at them.

Eventually they arrived at Wang's house, and his mother asked at once who the pretty girl was.

'She is your own niece,' replied Wang. 'Your sister's daughter.'

'That story of your cousin Wu's was made up,' his mother hastened to explain. 'I have no sisters, so how could I have such a niece?'

The girl, when questioned, replied, 'The old lady in the cottage is your sister. She is not my real mother. My father's name was Qin. He died when I was still a baby, and I can't remember him.'

'It is true,' said Wang's mother, 'that I did once have an elder sister who married a Mr Qin. But she died many years ago. She can't be this old woman you are talking about.'

She questioned Yingning about her foster-mother's facial features and asked her if she had certain birthmarks, and the girl's description accorded exactly with what she herself remembered about her dead sister.

'I suppose it must be her. And yet she died many years ago, so how can it be?'

She was still puzzling over this when cousin Wu arrived, and the girl retired to an inner room. When Wu learned what had happened, he stood there utterly dumbfounded for several minutes. Then something seemed to dawn on him.

'Is the girl's name by any chance Yingning?'

'Why, yes!' replied Wang.

'How extraordinary!' exclaimed Wu.

They asked him what he meant by this, and he went on to explain. 'After the death of our Aunt Wu, Uncle Qin was living on his own, and he was possessed by a fox-spirit. He fell ill and started to waste away. The fox-spirit gave birth to a baby girl called Yingning and left her in a bundle on the bed. The whole family saw it. After Uncle Qin finally died, the fox still used to come back occasionally. Later they pasted a Taoist charm on the wall, so the fox took her baby girl and went away for good. This girl must be the fox's daughter!'

They were puzzling over this between themselves when they heard Yingning burst out laughing from the inner room.

'She does seem such a very silly girl!' commented Wang's mother, going in at Wu's request to fetch her, and finding her still in the grip of one of her uncontrollable laughing fits. She urged her to come out, and Yingning finally succeeded in getting a grip on herself, sat quietly for a while with her face turned to the wall and then came out when she had fully composed herself. She managed to perform a single bow before turning promptly on her heel and retreating into the inner room again, where she let out a great peal of laughter. There were several other ladies present, all of whom found her behaviour highly comical.

Wu offered to go to the cottage and investigate, and at the same time to make inquiries about a possible marriage between the two young people. But when he reached the hamlet, all trace of the cottage had gone. There was nothing to be seen but a few blossoms strewn on a desolate hillside. He remembered that his Aunt Wu had been buried somewhere not far away, and found what he thought must be the place. But it was overgrown and the grave itself was no longer identifiable. He heaved a perplexed sigh and returned to the Wang family.

Wang's mother began to wonder if Yingning might herself be a ghost. She went in and repeated Wu's story about his dead uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Qin, but the girl exhibited no surprise whatsoever. When Mrs Wang condoled with her for being an orphan, she did not seem to take it at all tragically and instead kept on giggling in her silly way. The others did not know what to make of it at all.

Mrs Wang put Yingning to sleep in a room with one of the maids, and every morning she went in to see how the girl was getting on. Her needlework was certainly impeccable. It was only her incorrigible habit of laughing that detracted from her suitability as a future daughter-in-law. And yet somehow even that did not spoil her charm. However hysterically she laughed, people seemed to find pleasure in it, and the young women of the neighbourhood competed with each other for her company.

So Wang's mother (even though she was still unable to dismiss her fears of some ghostly influence at work) decided to go ahead and choose an auspicious day for the wedding. She spied on the girl during the day, but never detected anything untoward. She certainly had a shadow like a normal living human. On the wedding day, they dressed her up in a bridal gown and prepared her for the ceremony, but then she was taken with one of her laughing fits and became quite incapable of standing or kneeling properly, so in the end the usual formalities had to be dispensed with.

After the wedding, Wang, in view of his wife's complete naivety, was anxious that she might make some inappropriate reference to their private sexual relations. But she turned out to be particularly discreet in this regard, and never once said anything of the kind. Quite the contrary. She was in every way the very soul of discretion and sensitivity. If ever his mother was depressed or angry, all it needed was for Yingning to come and laugh, and the dark mood was at once dispelled. And if the maids were ever in any sort of trouble and feared a beating, they would ask Yingning to intercede on their behalf with the mistress and she always won them a free pardon.

She was passionately fond of flowers, and was always seeking to obtain new varieties from friends and relations. She even secretly pawned her own jewellery in order to buy more flowers, and after a few months every little corner of the house, every terrace, every fence, every shed, even the privy, had its floral display.

In the Wangs' back garden there was a banksia rose that had strayed from their neighbours' garden to the west, and was rambling all over a trellis. Yingning would often go there and climb the trellis to pick some of the fragrant blossoms for her hair. Mrs Wang reprimanded her for this, but she paid no heed. One day when she was up the trellis, the neighbour's son caught sight of her and was instantly smitten. He stared at her, and Yingning, with her usual directness, smiled back. He, thinking that she was leading him on, became more aroused than ever. Still with a broad smile on her face, Yingning pointed to a spot on his side of the wall, before climbing back down on to her own side. The young man was beside himself with joy at what he took to be an assignation, and returned to the same spot that very evening, to find her waiting for him.

He lost no time, and began to make love to her at once, only to feel a fierce shooting pain in his member, as if a sharp awl were boring into it. He fell with a great cry to the ground, and then, when he strained his eyes, saw before him not a beautiful woman but a rotten old log propped up against the wall. He had been making love to a dank hole worn in the log by the dripping rain. The young man's father heard him scream and came hurrying to his aid, but in reply to his questions the youth could only groan. It was only when his wife came to his side that he told the truth. They lit a lamp and shone it at the log, discovering in the hole a huge scorpion, the size of a small crab. The father, having chopped open the log and killed the scorpion, carried his son into the house, but later that night the young man died.

The family took young Wang to court, accusing his wife of sorcery. But the Magistrate, who had a high opinion of Wang and knew of his excellent reputation, dismissed the charge as false and would have had the dead youth's father caned had not Wang intervened on his behalf and procured his release.

Wang's mother spoke to Yingning afterwards. 'This time your silliness has really gone too far! I always knew there was something strange about your excessive cheerfulness, and that it would bring trouble and sorrow sooner or later. Luckily for you the Magistrate is a wise man, and the case will go no further. But if it had been some fool of a judge, he would have had you arrested and questioned in court, and my poor son would never have been able to hold his head up in public again!'

Yingning looked at her seriously for a moment and swore that she would never laugh again.

'There's nothing wrong with laughing,' said Mrs Wang. 'But it should be in the right place and at the right time.'

From that day forth, Yingning never laughed again. Even if someone tried to provoke her, she kept a straight face, though never an unpleasantly gloomy one.

One night, she was sitting with her husband when suddenly she began to weep. He was greatly puzzled.

'There's something I have never told you,' she sobbed. 'I haven't told you about it before, because we hadn't known each other very long and I didn't want to frighten you. But now that I know you better, and I know how much you and your mother love me, I must tell you the truth.

'I am the daughter of a fox. When my fox-mother went away, she entrusted me to a ghost-mother, who looked after me for ten years. I have no brothers. You are all I have in the world. Now my ghost-mother is lying out there all alone up in the hills, with no one to care for her and to bury her properly by her husband's side. Her soul is wandering unhappily beneath the Nine Springs.

'I beg you to do one thing for me, if you do not begrudge me the trouble or the expense: bury my ghost-mother properly, set her poor spirit at peace. Then she will cease to grieve, and will know that the child she reared bears her some gratitude, that daughters can be of some value. Perhaps my example may discourage parents from drowning their daughters.'

Wang agreed to do this for her. His only concern was that the old lady's temporary resting place would be too overgrown to find, but Yingning told him not to worry on that score.

Shortly afterwards, they both set out, pulling a decent coffin behind them in a cart. Deep in the midst of an overgrown thicket of brambles, Yingning pointed to the makeshift grave, and sure enough there they found the dead body of the old lady of the cottage, her skin still firm on its bones. Yingning took the body in her arms and wept bitterly as together they lifted it into the coffin and on to the cart and transported it to the grave of Mr Qin. And there they buried her next to her former husband.

That night, Wang dreamed that the old lady came to thank him. He awoke and told Yingning his dream.

'I also saw her tonight,' she said. 'She told me not to disturbyou.'

Wang regretted that she had not detained the old lady.

'She is a ghost,' explained Yingning. 'There are too many living humans here, the aura surrounding us is too Yang. She could never have stayed long with us.'

Wang asked after the maid from the hamlet, the one called Petal.

'She is a fox too,' answered Yingning. 'And a very clever one. My fox-mother left her to keep an eye on me. She often brought me things to eat. I shall always be grateful to her for her goodness to me. My ghost-mother told me she is married now.'

Every year, at the Cold Food Festival, without fail, they went to the Qin grave, swept it, and paid their respects to the dead.

After a year had passed, Yingning gave birth to a son. Even when he was a babe in arms, he was never afraid of strangers, but always laughed in their presence just like his mother.

41.

THE MAGIC SWORD AND THE MAGIC BAG.

There was a gentleman of Zhejiang Province by the name of Ning Caichen, an open, generous person by nature, forthright and serious in his dealings. He always said that he had only ever loved one woman.

Once he passed through Jinhua on his travels and rested for a while at a temple in the northern outskirts of the city. The temple had once been rather grand, but now it was overgrown with weeds and seemed quite deserted. The doors leading into the monks' cells in the east and west wings stood ajar, and the only place that showed any sign of being inhabited was a single room on the south side, which, Ning observed, had been fitted with a new door-bar and lock. In the eastern corner of the main courtyard, below the main hall of worship, grew a stand of large bamboos, their stems two hands round, and below the steps leading up to the terrace stretched a vast pond, covered with a mass of water-lilies in full bloom. Ning was greatly taken with the quiet, rarefied charm of the place.

It was the time of one of the Provincial Education Commissioner's periodic visits, and since as a result accommodation in the town itself had become very expensive, Ning considered taking lodgings in the temple. He went for a stroll to await the return of the monks, if there were any.

Towards evening, seeing a gentleman arrive and open the newly fitted door on the south side of the main courtyard, Ning hastened to pay his respects and to announce his intention of staying.

'There is no one in charge here,' replied the gentleman. 'I too am only lodging here temporarily. If you think you might enjoy this lonely spot, I should be delighted to share it with you, sir.'

Ning was pleased at the man's friendly response. He made himself a pallet of straw and fashioned a little table out of wooden boards, clearly intending to stay for some time. That night the moon flooded the temple courtyard with its brilliant light, and the two men sat together in the portico of the main hall, conversing and becoming acquainted with each other. The gentleman introduced himself as Yan Chixia, and at first, even though he did not speak like a Zhejiang man, Ning imagined him to be a scholar up in town for the provincial examination. In due course Yan told Ning that he hailed from the western region of Qin. His way of talking seemed unusually blunt and unaffected. After chatting for a while, the two men bade each other goodnight with a bow and retired to bed.

It was Ning's first night in the temple, and he found it hard to fall asleep. He thought he could hear low voices outside, as if the members of a family were talking among themselves. Rising from his bed, he crouched against the northern wall of his cell, beneath the stone window-frame, and, peeping out, saw a small courtyard surrounded by a low wall, in which two women one in her forties, the other an old lady in a faded red dress, with a long silver comb in her hair, humpbacked and unsteady on her feet were talking in the moonlight.

'What has kept Little Beauty so long?' asked the younger of the two.

'She should be here any minute,' said the older.

'Has she been complaining to you, Granny?'

'No. But she does seem rather miserable.'

'Perhaps we are being too soft with her.'

Even as they were talking, a young girl of seventeen or eighteen, of an extraordinary personal beauty, entered the courtyard and the old lady laughed.

'One should never speak of people behind their backs! There we were talking about you, dear, when you come stealing in, silent as a little fairy. It's a good thing we weren't discussing your shortcomings.'

After a brief pause she continued, 'Why, you're looking pretty as a picture today! If I were a young man, I'd be head over heels in love with you!'

'And if I didn't have you to flatter me, Granny,' said the girl, 'I'm sure I'd starve for compliments...'

She and the middle-aged woman then exchanged a few words. Ning concluded to himself that they must be a family living next door, and went back to bed. He heard no further words spoken outside, and soon all was silent and he began to feel drowsy, but even as he was drifting off he became aware of someone coming into the room. He rose promptly from his bed and, peering into the gloom, to his astonishment recognized the girl from the courtyard outside. He asked her what it was she wanted, and she smiled.