To everyone taking the Southeast University humanities course “Guided Reading of Classical Chinese Novels”: please don’t copy this verbatim — the teacher does read the essays carefully. This reading reflection of mine happened to get a full mark, and this course was the only full-mark course of my university years. Every time I go back and reread it, I still gain a lot.
Reading Reflections
  For this humanities course, among the classical masterpieces the teacher chose China’s first banned book (“New Tales Told by Lamplight”), and kept emphasizing how brilliant and dashing the old master of 600 years ago was when expounding this book, and that studying it today means reading a treasury left by our predecessors. For us science and engineering students, it is naturally hard to grasp what lies within. But let’s read along with the teacher for now — perhaps we’ll gain something.
  In this book, what impressed me most was “The Peony Lantern Story”. In class, the teacher first spent one session on the general content of the story, then another session screening “The Peony Lantern” episode of “A Hundred Ghost Stories” (Kaidan Hyaku Monogatari). What this novella left behind was more than an impression — it was a deeper sense of its characters. Setting aside how short the story is, there are many points that invite reflection. What follows is my own understanding; I may deviate somewhat on the characters’ personalities and the story’s deeper meaning, but I had to write something down — otherwise I’d have no way to answer to myself or to the teacher.
  The story opens with Qiao Sheng’s romantic encounter. Qiao Sheng lost his wife early and could only lean against his door with nothing to do each day; happening to meet a beauty on the fifteenth night of the first lunar month, he followed after her. As a man, Qiao Sheng’s behavior is hardly blameworthy. But what follows is quite puzzling. From a modern point of view, falling in love at first sight and going home hand in hand seems incredibly fast; in ancient times, with no chat apps and many constraints, this is also highly suspicious. If ancient and modern men are the same — creatures of their lower halves, lust rushing to the brain — perhaps it can still be understood. But here you are, a man, bringing a woman home in the middle of the night, believing her on the strength of her word alone, and being love-entangled with her for more than ten days. As Qiao Sheng’s encounter goes, it was a highly successful seduction; but as a man, Qiao Sheng spent those dozen-plus days without a second thought, and that is a mark of failure. Qiao Sheng’s problems do not end there.
  Then Qiao Sheng’s neighbor could bear it no longer — more precisely, could hear it no longer: a man whose wife had died making inexplicable sounds every night would naturally arouse suspicion. Here the neighbor plays the “good person”, putting the old tale of “boring a hole in the wall to steal a neighbor’s lamplight” to lively use. Fortunately the walls were not thick back then, or Qiao Sheng’s life would have ended even sooner. Reading the whole text, one finds the neighbor is the pivotal character of the story: boring the wall to peek was him, pointing Qiao Sheng to the west of the lake to learn the truth was him, and discovering Qiao Sheng’s corpse was also him — what a coincidence. The text never says it outright, but honestly, I believe going to Master Wei of the Xuanmiao Temple and finding the Iron-Crowned Daoist was probably him too. Enthusiasm is a good thing, but this neighbor is too good, too exemplary. The ancients were said to be simple and honest — very different from today, it seems.
  Qiao Sheng’s death comes very quickly: in an embrace they enter the coffin, and Qiao Sheng breathes his last. Here, I think, Fu Liqing did love Qiao Sheng. In the dozen-plus days she spent with him she may truly have fallen in love with him; otherwise she would not have dragged him along to the Yellow Springs. She herself was already dead — why not take away a handsome man like Pan An instead? It shows she had set her heart on Qiao Sheng, and that she resented Qiao Sheng for believing the Daoist’s words and shutting her a thousand li away. As for Qiao Sheng, little is described here, and the author does not say whether Qiao Sheng resisted at the time. But Qiao Sheng, essentially a man without property, facing a beauty’s invitation compounded by the effects of alcohol, was unlikely to resist much. Though dead, he still met the beauty every day — envying only the love-birds, not the immortals. As a man, Qiao Sheng’s lot is enviable, and Qiao Sheng’s enlightenment admirable. Fortunately the reward that came with the risk was worth it: even after death Qiao Sheng remained happy. The novel describes it most longingly: “on dark moonless nights, one often saw the young man and the lady walking hand in hand, a maidservant ahead carrying a double-headed peony lantern” — that is, if you don’t read the second half of the sentence. Being human is tiring; being a ghost like Qiao Sheng would do, with company every day — that too seems a kind of fulfillment. But this rests on Qiao Sheng being “property-less”: utterly alone, companioned only by his shadow, living no better than dead. Whether in ancient or modern times, I think people like Qiao Sheng are by no means few; those living each day a bland, flavorless life make up a considerable proportion. Without the burdens of car and mortgage on one’s back, if one truly became “property-less”, then living and dying would be much the same, and dying with a beauty for company would be the hope of the vast majority. Of course, that is not how I think for now, because I am not yet “property-less” — I still have many things to do. If I died like Qiao Sheng, no one would share the burdens on my shoulders. Let me be society’s slave for a while; the day my work is done, perhaps I too can face death without unease.
  By this point the story could have ended quite nicely: without dreams, there is little difference between living and dying. But the author did not intend to stop — because although Qiao Sheng and Fu Liqing were happily paired, they brought great trouble to the people around them: “those who encountered them invariably fell gravely ill, chills and fever alternating”, as the text says. Here I still have a question: were Qiao Sheng and Fu Liqing really haunting people as ghosts, or was human jealousy simply too heavy to bear the sight of others’ release? I believe malignant ghosts exist, but applying that to Qiao Sheng and Fu Liqing does not seem quite right. Why would they lay violent hands on people they met, when the pair were perfectly content together — what resentment could they bear toward others? So my reading leans toward the latter: I believe the crowds who encountered Qiao Sheng and Fu Liqing feared them as ghosts while envying them at the same time, and that is why they fell gravely ill. Jealousy is a terrible thing. Hence the later “recommend merits on their behalf, sacrifice animals and sweet wine to them, and perhaps recovery may be obtained” — illnesses do not heal for no reason; one must first dispel one’s own jealousy.
  Afterwards the crowd did not examine its own faults either. Haunted by ghosts, one must find special means to drive them away — hence Master Wei and the Iron-Crowned Daoist. The existence of these two characters also extends the topic of the story: where there are ghosts, there are ghost-drivers; yin and yang are always unified, are they not? The text gives a gorgeous description of the Iron-Crowned Daoist’s exorcism: “erecting a ten-foot-square altar, sitting upright on the mat, writing talismans and burning them”. Here I do believe the Iron-Crowned Daoist truly had ghost-driving power — after all, those divine soldiers were summoned by drawn talismans; being fiction, there must be some power to match the ghosts. The exorcism was very successful: “in cangues and chains, the lady, the young man, and Jinlian were all escorted in; whips and cudgels rained down, blood flowing freely” — one can almost feel the blood flowing. Confession under torture is no more than this. Whether in ancient or modern times, when special figures are caught, they must be made to suffer a little. As for the three branded as “menaces”, a flogging was hardly worth pitying. The crowd here was perhaps secretly cheering — after all, these were the ones who had made them suffer, whether or not it was truly their doing. Like the old parable of the man who suspected his neighbor of stealing his axe: the more you look, the more the other resembles the person who hurt you. It is a very strange feeling. A sin not yet established is pinned on certain heads, and those people must then be treated as enemies, be flogged, be bloodied — forced confessions will do; no defense is needed, only a confession. The written confession means nothing; we see only what we want to see, and hear only what we want to hear. In contemporary terms: the machinery of government was not yet complete — no procedure at all, a single crude form of interrogation. Indeed, it leaves one lamenting and indignant.
  The ending is not wholly satisfying. The ghosts were driven away and everyone should have rejoiced, but when they wanted to thank the Daoist and the Master, they found the Daoist already gone and the Master struck mute. If I had been in the crowd that day, my heart would surely have cried out: the Master and the Daoist both acted for the people — how could one vanish and the other be silenced? Everyone’s hearts must have gone out to the Daoist and the Master, for in their hour of peril it was these two who showed the way and removed the obstacles. Perhaps they also grieved the two men’s misfortune. Here, ridding the people of evil and acting for the people is a good thing, but I would add: first ask whether these “people” are good citizens or a mob — the outcome differs greatly. The words and judgments of the masses are a great force that changes the direction of society. If the people’s judgment is correct, fine; but what if we were wrong from the start? How can the people be held responsible for their own actions?
  Here I think of the Japanese drama “Legal High”. In the second season, the so-called “villainess of the century” goes to prison; everyone clamors for her blood; insufficient evidence can still convict, insufficient evidence can still execute. The power of the judiciary is well illustrated here: our society must never be swayed by the words of the masses, right or wrong. We should seek broader forces — like the statutes written into books and studied in depth. What if a law is wrong? Then we change it! But the law must never bend to the crowd’s opinion of a single case at a single moment, still less turn white into black because of the jealousy of the majority.
  The Daoist’s and the Master’s misfortunes may have had their reasons. In a world where good is rewarded and evil punished — the world of most fiction, that is — I prefer to believe the two were punished because they did something wrong: the fault of trusting too readily the many, while ignoring the few’s right to defend themselves. Such a punishment is also logical.
  The later TV adaptation, “The Peony Lantern” in “A Hundred Ghost Stories”, changed the story somewhat. The adaptation works very well: the original story is richly expanded, the characters are fuller, and the story no longer appears out of nowhere — the protagonists knew each other in a former life, though the male lead’s death kept them from living together. In the world that followed, the two, though deeply attached, were kept from fulfilling their wish by the difference of class and by the obstruction of the lady’s father. The plot is more complete and the love between the leads is well expressed. At the same time, the Daoist in the drama is not wholly a rigid demon-slayer; he becomes a man who understands the feelings between the leads. Though he knows that the human and ghostly paths must part, before their love he feels mostly respect, and joy at their union. The human, warm-hearted side is expressed through the Daoist’s actions — this is one of the differences between the two versions.
  I have watched quite a few Japanese TV dramas. Japanese dramas can portray the everyday, life-like side of characters with great delicacy — one reason I enjoy watching them. In the process, our emotions can be deeply stirred.
  The influence of “The Peony Lantern Story” was by no means confined to China; that it traveled to Japan and inspired such an adaptation speaks to its immense intrinsic value. In our culture, the portrayal of the human heart is remarkably subtle and refined. I hope Chinese culture can develop more deeply. This is an engineering student’s admiration and reverence for culture: five thousand years of history have left so many treasures, which must not vanish because our era moves too fast. This is also, I suppose, the purpose of the university’s humanities courses — that amid our grueling professional studies we not abandon the understanding and the spreading of culture.
Appendix:
The Original Text of “The Peony Lantern Story” (牡丹灯记原文)
Translator’s note: the original classical Chinese text is kept below for reference.
方氏之据浙东也，每岁元夕，于明州张灯五夜，倾城士女，皆得纵观。至正庚子之岁，有乔生者，居镇明岭下，初丧其耦，鳏居无聊，不复出游，但倚门伫立而已。
十五夜，三更尽，游人渐稀，见一丫鬟，挑双头牡丹灯前导，一美人随后，约年十七八，红裙翠袖，婷婷嫋嫋，迤逦投西而去。生于月下视之，韶颜稚齿，真国色也。神魂飘荡，不能自抑，乃尾之而去，或先之，或后之。行数十步，女忽回顾而微哂曰：“初无桑中之期，乃有月下之遇，似非偶然也。”生即趋前揖之曰：“敝居咫尺，佳人可能回顾否？”女无难意，即呼丫鬟曰：“金蓬，可挑灯同往也。”于是金莲复回。生与女携手至家，极其欢昵，自以为巫山洛浦之遇，不是过也。生问其姓名居址，女曰：“姓符，丽卿其字，漱芳其名，故奉化州判女也。先人既殁，家事零替，既无弟兄，仍鲜族党，止妾一身，遂与金莲侨居湖西耳。”生留之宿，态度妖妍，词气婉媚，低帏昵枕，甚极欢爱。天明，辞别而去，暮则又至。
如是者将半月，邻翁疑焉，穴壁窥之，则见一粉骷髏与生并坐于灯下，大骇。明旦，詰之，秘不肯言。邻翁曰：“嘻！子祸矣！人乃至盛之纯阳，鬼乃幽阴之邪秽。今子与幽阴之魅同处而不知，邪秽之物共宿而不悟，一旦真元耗尽，灾眚来临，惜乎以青春之年，而遂为黄壤之容也，可不悲夫！”生始惊惧，备述厥由。邻翁曰：“彼言侨居湖西，当往物色之，则可知矣。”生如其教，径投月湖之西，往来于长堤之上、高桥之下，访于居人，询于过客，并言无有。日将夕矣，乃入湖心寺少憩，行遍东廊，复转西廊，廊尽处得一暗室，则有旅榇，白纸题其上曰：“故奉化符州判女丽卿之柩。”柩前悬一双头牡丹灯，灯下立一明器婢子，背上有二字曰金莲。生见之，毛发尽竖，寒栗遍体，奔走出寺，不敢回顾。是夜借宿邻翁之家，忧怖之色可掬。邻翁曰：“玄妙观魏法师，故开府王真人弟子，符箓为当今第一，汝宜急往求焉。”明旦，生诣观内。法师望见其至，惊曰：“妖气甚浓，何为来此？”生拜于座下，具述其事。法师以朱符二道授之，令其—置于门，一置于榻，仍戒不得再往湖心寺。生受符而归，如法安顿，自此果不来矣。
一月有余，往衮绣桥访友。留饮至醉，都忘法师之戒，径取湖心寺路以回。将及寺门，则见金莲迎拜于前曰：“娘子久待，何一向薄情如是！”遂与生俱入西廊，直抵室中。女宛然在坐，数之曰：“妾与君素非相识，偶于灯下一见，感君之意，遂以全体事君，暮往朝来，于君不薄。奈何信妖道士之言，遽生疑惑，便欲永绝？薄幸如是，妾恨君深矣！今幸得见，岂能相舍？”即握生手，至柩前，柩忽自开，拥之同入，随即闭矣，生遂死于柩中。邻翁怪其不归，远近寻问，及至寺中停柩之室，见生之衣裾微露于柩外，请于寺僧而发之，死已久矣，与女之尸俯仰卧于内，女貌如生焉。寺僧叹曰：“此奉化州判符君之女也，死时年十七，权厝于此，举家赴北，竟绝音耗，至今十二年矣。不意作怪如是！”遂以尸柩及生殡于西门之外。
自后云阴之昼，月黑之宵，往往见生与女携手同行，一丫鬟挑双头壮丹灯前导，遇之者辄得重疾，寒热交作；荐以功德，祭以牢醴，庶获痊可，杏则不起矣。居人大惧，竞往玄妙观谒魏法师而诉焉。法师曰：“吾之符箓，止能治其未然，今祟成矣，非吾之所知也。闻有铁冠道人者，居四明山顶，考劾鬼神，法术灵验，汝辈宜往求之。”众遂至山，攀缘藤草，蓦越溪涧，直上绝顶，果有草庵一所，道人凭几而坐，方看童子调鹤。众罗拜庵下，告以来故。道人曰：“山林隐士，旦暮且死，乌有奇术！君辈过听矣。”拒之甚严。众曰：“某本不知，盖玄妙魏师所指教耳。”始释然曰：“老夫不下山已六十年，小子饶舌，烦吾一行。”即与童子下山，步履轻捷，径至西门外，结方丈之坛，踞席端坐，书符焚之。忽见符吏数辈，黄巾锦祆，金甲雕戈，皆长丈余，屹立坛下，鞠躬请命，貌甚虔肃。道人曰：“此间有邪祟为祸，惊扰生民，妆辈岂不知耶？宜疾驱之至。”受命而往，不移时，以枷锁押女与生并金莲俱到，鞭菙挥扑，流血淋漓。道人呵责良久，令其供状。将吏以纸笔授之，遂各供数百言。今录其略于此。
乔生供曰：
伏念某丧室鳏居，倚门独立，犯在色之戒，动多欲之求。不能效孙生见两头蛇而决断，乃致如郑子运九尾狐而爱怜。事既莫追，侮将奚及！
符女供曰：
伏念某青年弃世，白昼无邻，六魄虽离，一灵未混。灯前月下，逢五百年欢喜冤家；世上民间，作千万人风流话本。迷不知返，罪安可逃！
金莲供曰：
伏念某杀青为骨，染素成胎，坟垅埋藏，是谁作俑而用？面目机发，比人具体而微。既有名字之称，可乏精灵之异！因而得计，岂敢为妖！
供毕，将吏取呈。道人以巨笔判曰：
盖闻大禹铸鼎，而神奸鬼秘莫得逃其形；温峤燃犀，而水府龙宫俱得现其状。惟幽明之异趣，乃诡怪之多端。遇之者不利于人，遭之者有害于物。故大厉入门而晋景殁，妖豕啼野而齐裹殂。降祸为妖，兴灾作孽。是以九天设斩邪之使，十地列罚恶之司，使魑魅魍魉，无以容其奸，夜叉罗刹，不得肆其暴。矧此清平之世，坦荡之时，而乃变幻形躯，依附草木，天阴雨湿之夜，月落参横之晨，啸于梁而有声，窥其室而无睹，蝇营狗苟，牛狠狼贪，疾如飘风，烈若猛火。乔家子生犹不悟，死何恤焉。符氏女死尚贪淫，生可知矣！况金莲之怪诞，假明器而矫诬。惑世诬民，违条犯法。狐绥绥而有荡，鹑奔奔而无良。恶贯已盈，罪名不宥。陷人坑从今填满，迷魂阵自此打开。烧毁双明之灯，押赴九幽之狱。
判词已具，主者奉行急急如律令。即见三人悲啼踯躅，为将吏驱捽而去。道人拂袖入山。明日，众往谢之，不复可见，止有草庵存焉。急往玄妙观访魏法师而审之，则病瘖不能言矣。
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