Slapping the Table in Amazement

A Ming Dynasty Story Collection

Mengchu Ling, Shuhui Yang, Yunqin Yang

• Publisher: University of Washington Press
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9780295742144
• Topic: Literatura
• Subtopic: Colecciones literarias asiáticas

Slapping the Table in Amazement is the unabridged English translation of the famous story collection Pai'an jingqi by Ling Mengchu (1580–1644), originally published in 1628. The forty lively stories gathered here present a broad picture of traditional Chinese society and include characters from all social levels. We learn of their joys and sorrows, their views about life and death, and their visions of the underworld and the supernatural. Ling was a connoisseur of popular literature and a seminal figure in the development of Chinese literature in the vernacular, which paved the way for the late-imperial Chinese novel. Slapping the Table in Amazement includes translations of verse and prologue stories as well as marginal and interlinear comments.

1

The Man Whose Luck Has Turned Chances upon Dongting Tangerines

The Merchant from Persia Reveals the Secrets of a Turtle Shell

THERE is a poem that says,

Day after day, the wine cups are filled to the brim;

Dawn after dawn, flowers bloom in my small garden.

By myself I sing and dance to my heart’s content;

What a pleasure to be free of all cares and trammels!

How many daydreams have ever been brought to pass throughout history? (IC: How lamentable!)

How many brilliant talents are lost in this mortal world?

All stratagems and plans are to little avail;

Just take and enjoy what is offered here and now!

This ci poem, written by Zhu Xizhen of the Song dynasty to the tune of “Moon over the West River,” makes the point that since fame, glory, wealth, and grandeur are all predestined, one might as well seize the day and enjoy life while one can.1 Consider how few mighty heroes, as recorded in the Seventeen Histories from the earliest times, have ever acquired the riches and ranks that they deserved!2 (MC: This is enough to bring tears to the eyes of mighty heroes.) Literary gentlemen able to dash off a thousand words at a moment’s notice are consigned to oblivion once they have outlived their usefulness, and their volumes of writing end up covering jars of pickled vegetables. Masters of martial arts able to shoot an arrow through a willow leaf from a hundred paces away meet the same fate once they are no longer needed, and the few arrows left in their possession do not even suffice to sustain a kitchen fire until the rice is done. At the same time, benighted but lucky souls pass the imperial civil-service examinations, however unqualified they are, and men undistinguished in the military arts receive lavish rewards. It is all a matter of timing, luck, and fate. As the proverb rightly says, “If you are destined to be poor, gold turns into copper in your hand; if you are destined to be rich, paper turns into silk at your touch.” (MC: How true!) The long and the short of it is that everything is under the control of the Master of Destiny.

There are also these lines from a ci poem by Wu Yangao:3

That good-for-nothing Creator follows no rules;

He flips, he flops, he turns things upside down.

Such are the ways of the world witnessed by all.

Monk Hui’an had this to say in a ci poem:4

Who would not want a house of gold?

Who would not want a well-lined purse?

But they just may not be in your stars.

All machinations will be labor lost.

Let your children seek their own fortune.

Su Dongpo had this to say in a ci poem:5

For hollow fame the size of a snail’s horn,

For profits the size of a fly’s head,

Why let your labor go to waste?

Since everything is predestined,

Who is to judge who wins and who loses?

These eminent personalities in their eloquence all make the same point, but, in fact, an ancient axiom puts it even better: “In this fleeting life dictated by fate, you get nothing for all the pains you take.”

Storyteller, the way you put it, lazy people with no civil or military accomplishments need only wait for good luck to fall from the sky into their laps and spendthrifts need only wait for Heaven to shower money on their families without having to engage in business or build careers. Wouldn’t this be a bitter disappointment to those who wish to better themselves? (MC: A perfect, unassailable argument.)

Well, gentle reader, you may not have thought about this, but a family with lazy people in it is fated to be lowly, and a family with spendthrifts is fated to be poor. This is the way things are. (IC: This is the case of an honest man stating the facts as they are.) However, there are indeed cases of reversals of fortune that happen in the twinkling of an eye, contrary to all expectations and calculations.

Now let me tell of a certain Jin Weihou, a native of Bianjing, who lived in the Song dynasty.6 A merchant by profession, he rose early and went to bed late, as was only to be expected, and spent all his waking hours devising ways of landing better deals. (MC: This makes the preceding query about lazy people more interesting.) When he had amassed quite a decent fortune, he thought up a long-term strategy (IC: To last for a thousand years.): He would use only loose pieces of silver for his daily expenses and hoard large, nice pieces of high-grade silver. When he accumulated about a hundred taels, he would have them melted and fashioned into a large ingot. He would then braid red yarn into a ribbon, tie it around the middle of the ingot, and place the silver by his pillow, so that he could toy with the ingot for a while before going to sleep at night. (IC: What a fool!) After he had accumulated eight ingots over a lifetime of work, he began to take it easy and gave up trying to save for another one-hundred-tael ingot.

Mr. Jin had four sons. On his seventieth birthday, the four of them prepared a feast and set out wine to celebrate the occasion. Impressed with their proper etiquette, Mr. Jin Senior said to them, “Thanks to blessings from Heaven, I’ve provided well for the family by working hard. (MC: He is one of those fathers who serve their children like beasts of burden.) On top of that, I’ve painstakingly set aside eight large ingots of silver, although I’m determined never to use them. They’re tied with yarn in four pairs and lie next to my pillow. I’ll pick a lucky day and give one pair to each of you, so that you’ll each have a family treasure to call your own.” Delighted, the four sons thanked their father, and they did not part company until they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

Later that night, when a slightly tipsy Mr. Jin Senior lit his bedside lamp and got into bed, he saw through his wine-sodden eyes his eight large glittering ingots of silver sitting by his pillow in a neat row. He ran his fingers over them a few times, let out a chuckle, and lay down in bed. (IC: Being foolish again.) Before he had quite drifted into sleep, he heard footsteps beside his bed. Afraid that there might be a thief in the house, he strained his ears to listen, and it seemed to him that there was more than one person and that they were deferring politely to one another as they tried to approach him. When he pulled the bed curtain aside, he saw by the dim light of the lamp eight big men, each wearing a white robe that was gathered around the middle by a red ribbon. Bowing from the waist, they stepped forward and said to him, “We brothers were decreed by Heaven to reside at your home and await further instructions. You, sir, in your kindness to us, which we hardly deserve, raised us until we’ve come of age without ever requiring our service. After cherishing us for so many years, your allotted span of time is now drawing to a close, and we’re supposed to seek a new destination after you, sir, have gone to heaven. However, now that you’ve decided to bequeath us to your sons in equal portions, we’ll have to bid you farewell, because we have no predestined bond with your sons. (MC: Too bad for his sons.) We’re going to serve Mr. Wang Something of such and such a village in such and such a county. But this doesn’t mark the end of our predestined bond with you, sir. We’ll be seeing you one more time!” And with that, they turned to go.

Mr. Jin tumbled out of bed in alarm and, without sparing a moment to put on his shoes, ran barefoot after the eight men, but by this time, they were already quite some distance from his house. In his haste, he tripped on the threshold. As he fell, he woke up and realized that it had all been but a dream. He quickly got out of bed and turned up the wick of his bedside lamp but found no trace of his eight ingots of silver. Recalling what he had heard in his dream, he realized that those were by no means idle words. With a sigh, he broke into sobs and said to himself (IC: He is being foolish again. One foolish act leads to another.), “It’s hard to believe that my life savings are meant for other people rather than my own sons! But I did hear the surname of that family and where they live. Why don’t I track them down? I’m prepared to take all the time I need.” He did not get a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.

The next morning, after he told his sons about what had happened, some of them were startled, others were apprehensive. (MC: It is only natural that people vary in degrees of intelligence and worth.)

Those who were startled said, “How very strange! So those things are not meant for us after all.”

Those who were apprehensive commented, “The old man must have made that promise to us when he was in a sunny mood. But he regretted it when he thought back on it and just can’t tear himself away from his silver. That may be why he has come up with such a preposterous lie.”

Seeing that not all of his sons believed him, Mr. Jin Senior burned with impatience to get to the truth. Off he went to such and such a village in such and such a county, and sure enough, he did find one Mr. Wang Something. He knocked at the gate. Once led into the brightly lit main hall, he saw that it was laid out for a sacrificial ceremony complete with the three sacrificial animals [the ox, the pig, and the goat]. (IC: Also an act of foolishness.)

“What occasion calls for such a grand ceremony?” asked Mr. Jin of a servant, who then went in to announce him and brought out the master of the house, Mr. Wang.

After an exchange of greetings, Mr. Jin sat down, and Mr. Wang asked him about the purpose of his visit.

“This old man is here to try to solve a mystery,” replied Mr. Jin. “But now that I see a sacrificial ceremony going on, I beg to be enlightened as to the reason for this ritual.”

Mr. Wang launched into these explanations: “It all started when my humble wife felt slightly indisposed. So I engaged a fortune-teller. He said, ‘The ailment will go away as soon as the bed is moved.’ Yesterday, my wife, in her illness, became dimly aware of eight big men before her, each wearing a white robe with a red ribbon around his waist. They said to her, ‘We used to reside in a Mr. Jin’s house, but our predestined bond with him is over. We’ve now come to join your household.’ With that, they dived under the bed. My wife broke into a cold sweat and immediately felt like herself again. After the bed was moved aside, we found eight large ingots of silver sitting in the dust, each tied around the middle with a red ribbon. (IC: It did pay to move the bed. The fortune-teller has been proved right.) We have no idea where they could have come from. This must be a blessing from Heaven. That’s why we bought the sacrificial offerings as a token of our gratitude. Since you, sir, asked about this, would you happen to know what’s behind all this?”

Stomping his foot, Mr. Jin said, “Those ingots of silver are my life savings. I also had a dream last night, and when I woke up, they’d vanished. I heard your name and address in my dream, which is how I found my way here. So this must have been the will of Heaven. This old man has no complaints (IC: Complaints wouldn’t do any good.), but I do wish to have a look at them, so that I can relieve myself of this weight on my mind.” (MC: As foolish as ever.)

“That can easily be done,” said Mr. Wang. He went smilingly into the interior of the house and led four servants out, each carrying a tray with two ingots on it. With red yarn around their middles, they were the very same ingots of silver that had belonged to the Jin family.

Mr. Jin could not help shedding tears as he looked resignedly at the silver. (IC: There’s just no end to his foolishness.) Running his fingers over them, he said, “I don’t get to enjoy them. Just my luck!”

Although Mr. Wang ordered the servants to take the silver back into the inner quarters of the house, it pained him to see Mr. Jin in such a st...