Sanyan Stories

Favorites from a Ming Dynasty Collection

Shuhui Yang, Yunqin Yang, Shuhui Yang, Yunqin Yang

• Publisher: University of Washington Press
• Year: 2015
• ISBN:
  9780295805696
• Topic: Letteratura
• Subtopic: Collezioni letterarie asiatiche

Presented here are nine tales from the celebrated Ming dynasty Sanyan collection of vernacular stories compiled and edited by Feng Menglong (1574–1646), the most knowledgeable connoisseur of popular literature of his time in China. The stories he collected were pivotal to the development of Chinese vernacular fiction, and their importance in the Chinese literary canon and world literature has been compared to that of Boccaccio's Decameron and the stories of One Thousand and One Nights. Peopled with scholars, emperors, ministers, generals, and a gallery of ordinary men and women in their everyday surroundings—merchants and artisans, prostitutes and courtesans, matchmakers and fortune-tellers, monks and nuns, servants and maids, thieves and imposters—the stories provide a vivid panorama of the bustling world of imperial China before the end of the Ming dynasty. The three volumes constituting the Sanyan set— Stories Old and New, Stories to Caution the World, and Stories to Awaken the World, each containing forty tales—have been translated in their entirety by Shuhui Yang and Yunqin Yang. The stories in this volume were selected for their popularity with American readers and their usefulness as texts in classes on Chinese and comparative literature. These unabridged translations include all the poetry that is scattered throughout the original stories, as well as Feng Menglong's interlinear and marginal comments, which point out what seventeenth-century readers of the stories were being asked to appreciate.

1

Jiang Xingge Reencounters His Pearl Shirt

Wealth and rank are of no account,

And all too few live past seventy.

Can worldly fame last beyond the grave?

All in life is but an empty game.

Indulge not in youthful follies;

Nor with wine and women dally.

Break free from quarrels and worries;

Be content and enjoy a life of ease.

The above lyric poem to the tune of “The Moon over the West River” advises all to take life as it comes, to find delight in whatever lies in your lot, and not to let “drink,” “lust,” “wealth,” and “wrath” consume your energies and compromise your integrity. Joy may turn out to be sorrow, and a gain may turn out to be a loss. But of the four vices cited above, “lust” is by far the most ruinous. The eyes are the go-between of love; the heart is the seed of desire. At the beginning, you will suffer from pangs of longing. By the end, your soul will take leave of your body. An occasional affair on the spur of the moment with some “wayside flower and willow” brings little harm, but never hatch deliberate plans against all sense of decency to seek some momentary gratification at the expense of the long-standing marriage of others. How would you feel if your own dear wife or beloved concubine were to fall a victim to another man’s seduction? There is an ancient quatrain that puts it well:

The human heart may be blinded,

But the will of heaven never errs.

If I debauch not other men’s wives,

Other men will not debauch mine.

Dear audience, now hear me tell the story of “The Pearl Shirt” as an illustration of the never-failing retribution of heaven to serve as a lesson for all young men.

The story is about a man named Jiang De, also known as Jiang Xingge, a native of Zaoyang County in Xiangyang Prefecture, Huguang.¹ His father, Jiang Shize, was a merchant who began traveling extensively in Guangdong at an early age. Shize’s wife Luo-shi, now deceased, had left him with an only child, Xingge, who was nine years old at the time of her death. Jiang Shize could not bear the thought of parting with the child, yet neither could he afford to give up his Guangdong business as a means of livelihood. After giving much thought to the matter, he found no alternative but to take the nine-year-old along as a travel companion and teach the boy some worldly wisdom. Young as the boy was, he had

Trim brows and bright eyes,

White teeth and red lips.

He moved with grace

And spoke with ease.

In intellect he surpassed the well-read.

In cleverness he was equal to grown men.

Everyone called him the darling boy;

All praised him as a priceless gem.

Wary of stirring up envious feelings, Jiang Shize presented the boy, throughout their journeys, not as his son but as Young Master Luo, his wife’s nephew. As a matter of fact, the Luo family was also engaged in business in the Guangdong region. Whereas the Jiang family had been in the Guangdong business for one generation only, the Luo family had been in it for three. The innkeepers and brokers there knew all three generations of the Luos and treated them as their own kith and kin. Indeed, it was through the initiation of his father-in-law, Mr. Luo, that Jiang Shize had first become a traveling merchant. However, due to straitened circumstances that resulted from a succession of unjust lawsuits against them, the Luos had not visited the area in the last several years. The innkeepers and brokers missed them so much that at the sight of Jiang Shize, everyone asked after the Luo family. When learning upon inquiry that the boy with him, with refined looks and a ready tongue, was from the Luo family, all rejoiced, for their friendship with the last three generations of the Luo family was now continuing into the fourth.

Not to encumber our story with unnecessary chatter, let us speak of Jiang Xingge, who, after traveling a few times with his father, learned, to his father’s immense delight, to handle all business matters with adroitness and competence. It turned out, in a way no one would have expected, that when he was seventeen years old, his father died of a sudden illness. Luckily, he died at home instead of ending up a ghost on the road. After shedding some bitter tears, Xingge could not help but wipe his eyes dry and set about making arrangements for the funeral. Apart from the mortuary rites, he also had Buddhist prayers chanted to ensure that his father’s spirit be spared the torments of hell, but that needs no more description here.

During the forty-nine days of mourning, all kith and kin on both sides of the family came to offer their condolences. A Mr. Wang of the same county, father of Xingge’s newly betrothed fiancée, was among the visitors. Naturally, members of the Jiang clan engaged him in conversation as a courtesy. As the conversation turned to how mature Xingge was for his age in so ably handling such important matters all by himself, someone urged him, “Kinsman Wang, now that your daughter has come of age, why don’t you marry them to offset the sadness of the occasion? Life will be easier for the couple when they have each other for company.” That day Mr. Wang left without giving his consent.

After the burial rites were over, the relatives tried the proposition on Xingge. The young man also refused at first, but, after much persuasion, considerations about his lonely status prompted him to give in. The original matchmaker was sent to speak to the Wang family, but Mr. Wang declined, saying, “Our family needs to prepare a modest dowry, and it’s not something to be had at a moment’s notice. Moreover, to hold a wedding before the year of mourning is over would be against the rules of propriety. If there is to be a wedding, we’d better wait until after the first anniversary of the death.” When the matchmaker brought back this reply, Xingge did not press the point, for he knew Mr. Wang to be right.

Time sped by like an arrow. Before they realized it, the anniversary was upon them. After offering oblations to his father’s spirit tablet and taking off his garments of mourning made of coarse hemp, Xingge again asked the matchmaker to speak to the Wang family. This time, the proposal was accepted. Within several days, the six preliminaries² were completed, and the bride was brought over the threshold, as is attested by the following lyric poem to the tune of “The Moon over the West River”:

Red curtains replaced the white of mourning;

Hemp gave way to colorful clothing.

The festooned halls aglow with candles;

The nuptial wine and wedding feast all set out.

Why envy the splendor of a dowry?

Harder to come by is beauty.

Tonight, the pleasure of clouds and rain;³

Tomorrow, visitors with wishes of joy.

The bride was Mr. Wang’s youngest daughter, nicknamed Number Three. Because she was born on the seventh day of the seventh month, she was also known as Sanqiao.⁴ The two older married daughters of the family were also of remarkable beauty. Within the county of Zaoyang there circulated a four-line song that voiced the admiration for the Wang girls held by all and sundry:

Women in the world are many;

Those with the Wangs’ beauty are few.

He who takes a Wang girl as wife

Is better off than the emperor’s son-in-law.

As the proverb says, “Failure to make a business deal is a matter of the moment; failure to marry the right wife is a woe of a lifetime.” In selecting daughters-in-law, some families of distinction seek only a matching family background or rich dowry and arrange the betrothal with never a thought about other considerations. Later, when the grotesquely ugly bride is brought into the family and called upon to greet the members of the clan, imagine what poor figures the parents-in-law cut! Moreover, the discontented husband can hardly resist the temptation of illicit affairs. Yet, it so happens that ugly wives are best at bossing their husbands. If the husband reacts in the same way, he invites marital strife, but if he yields to her a couple of times out of face-saving considerations, she starts to put on airs. It was to avoid such unpleasant situations that Jiang Shize, upon learning that Mr. Wang was prone to producing beautiful daughters, had sent over betrothal gifts early on to commit Mr. Wang’s youngest girl to his son, both of whom were then at a tender age. Now that Sanqiao had crossed the threshold of the Jiang house, she was perceived to be as full of grace and charm as expected. In fact, she was twice as beautiful as her two older sisters. Truly,

Xishi of Wu⁵ did not measure up to her.

Nanwei of Chu⁶ was hardly her match.

Should she take the Bodhisattva’s place,⁷

Just as much homage would she be paid.

The handsome Jiang Xingge and his newly wedded beautiful wife were like a pair of exquisite jade statues from the hands of a master sculptor, and ten times more loving than the average married couple. After the third day, Xingge changed back into clothes of lighter colors and, declining all dealings with the outside world on the pretext of being still in mourning, stayed upstairs with his wife, enjoying every moment of the days and nights that went by. Indeed, they were never apart, whether in motion or at rest; even in their dreams they kept each other company. It has always been said that hard days pass slowly, whereas happy moments flit by all too quickly. With the passage of summers and winters, the mourning period came to an end. The spirit tablet for the deceased was removed, and the mourning clothes were taken off, but of this, we shall speak no further.

One day, it occurred to Xingge that his father’s Guangdong business had been unattended to for over three years. Revenues from many accounts remained uncollected. In the evening, he said to his wife that he wished to make a trip there. At first, she agreed that he should go, but later, as she learned the distance of the journey, tears fell involuntarily from her eyes, for how could such a loving couple bear to part with each other? Nor did Xingge feel ready to leave her. After some sad laments, the matter was dropped. This happened more than once. (Good description.)

Time went by. Before they noticed it, another two years had elapsed. Xingge made up his mind to go. He did his packing away from home, without his wife’s knowledge. It was not until five days before the auspicious day chosen for his departure that he said to her, “As the proverb says, ‘He who sits idle will eat away a mountain of a fortune.’ If the two of us are to start a family and build a business, we can’t very well afford to give up this source of income, can we? It being now the second month of the year, with the weather neither cold nor hot, what better time than this to start on the road?”

Realizing that she would not be able to keep him home any longer, she asked only, “When are you coming back?”

Xingge replied, “I have no other choice but to take this trip, but I’ll be back in one year’s time no matter what. I’ll just stay away longer the second time around, if that’s what it takes.”

Pointing at the toon tree in front of the house, she said, “Next year when this tree begins budding, I’ll be expecting you back.” With these words, tears fell like rain from her eyes. As he wiped away her tears with his sleeves, Xingge felt tears on his own cheeks as well. A few words hardly suffice for an adequate description of their grief at parting and their deep affection for each other.

Five days later, the night before the scheduled departure, the couple sobbingly talked the whole night through, with no wish to go to sleep. At the fifth watch, Xingge rose to get ready for the journey. He handed over to his wife all his inherited pearls and other valuables, taking along for himself only enough silver to serve as business capital, the original copies of the account books, some clothes, and bedding. Gifts to be offered to business associates had also been packed in good order. Of the two male servants, the younger one was to follow him. The older and more mature one was to stay behind to serve the mistress, run errands, and attend to the daily needs of the household, whereas two waiting women were charged with kitchen duties. There were also two maids, one called Clear Cloud, the other Warm Snow, whose job it was to serve the mistress in her private chamber, with orders not to wander too far away. Having thus assigned all the duties to the servants, Xingge turned to his wife: “Pass your time in patience. There is no lack of frivolous young men in the neighborhood. Being as pretty as you are, you’d better not look out the front door, so as not to attract undue attention.” (These words will turn out to be prophetic.)

“Don’t worry. Go quickly now and come back early.”

They took a tearful leave of each other. Truly,

The myriad sorrows of this world

All stem from parting, in life or by death.

For whole days on the road, all of Xingge’s thoughts were with his wife, to the exclusion of everything else. Some time later, he arrived in Guangdong and found lodgings in an inn. Old acquaintances came to greet him, and he, in his turn, offered them gifts and went from household to household, enjoying their hospitality in his honor. Thus, he had not a moment of rest for fifteen to twenty days in a row. He had already depleted his energy at home. The tribulations of the journey plus the now-excessive wining and dining brought on an attack of malaria, which lasted throughout the summer and turned to dysentery with the onset of autumn. With a physician checking his pulse and administering medicine every day, he finally recovered toward the end of autumn. In the meantime, his business was left unattended. It looked like he would not be able to return home in one year’s time. Truly,

For profits the size of a fly’s head,

He abandoned his love nest.

Homesick though he was, with the passage of time, he felt he might as well put aside such thoughts.

We shall leave Xingge to his travels and return to his wife, Sanqiao, who, just...