Pathway to Japanese Literature

Those who go to Hangzhou's West Lake, proceeding from the foot of Baoshi Hill where Baoshu Pagoda stands—passing through the long causeway that extends into the lake below the Japanese Consulate to visit Solitary Hill—will cross two stone bridges along this causeway.
One of the stone bridges is Broken Bridge, and the other is Brocade Belt Bridge; however, the one relevant to this tale is the first bridge, where stands the famed Monument of Lingering Snow on Broken Bridge inscribed by Emperor Shengzu.

In the Zhizheng era of the Yuan Dynasty, there was a scholar named Wen Shigao in Gusu—present-day Suzhou. However, as the Yuan court disdained Confucian scholars and denied them important posts, men of spirit tended to either retreat to mountain forests, dabble in verse and song, or generally avoid venturing into officialdom.
Wen Shigao, too, was molded by this custom; he held scant regard for bureaucratic success, his devotion to poetry and wine running deep.

At that time, Wen Shigao had just turned twenty years of age. Captivated by West Lake’s enchanting beauty, he came to Hangzhou, rented a house in front of Zhaoqing Temple outside Qiantang Gate, and would wander along the lakeside at dawn and dusk.
One day, with no particular destination in mind, he let his feet carry him to Broken Bridge, where on the left side stood a bamboo grove, within which a tall gate could be glimpsed.
When he drew nearer to inspect it, he saw that upon the gate hung a plaque inscribed “Qiaomu Shijia” (Noble Family of Towering Trees).

Wen Shigao, curious about what kind of garden lay beyond, decided to enter and see for himself.
Where locust trees and bamboo formed a lush green shade, there was a pond where red and white lotus flowers were in full bloom, and the faint fragrance of those blossoms seemed to drift softly through the air.
Wen Shigao was so taken with the garden’s scenery that he stood by the pond’s edge, enveloped in a pleasant mood.

“Oh, what a handsome gentleman!”

A young woman’s innocent voice—with a slightly tart edge to it—suddenly reached his ears.
Wen Shigao’s eyes immediately turned toward where the voice seemed to have come from.
To the left of the pond, within the green shade that had become the eastern neighbor of the pavilion there, a small tower came into view, and there was the pale face of a young woman.
She was a beautiful, dazzlingly bright-eyed girl.

Shigao stared fixedly at the girl.
How could a sensitive youth remain composed when such a girl had taken notice of his own appearance?
He was drawn toward her as if pulled by some force but, suddenly recalling a thought, turned back and exited through the gate.
That was to inquire about the girl’s background.

A cosmetics shop selling face powder and flower hairpins stood nearby.
There was an old woman sitting at the shopfront.
Wen Shigao entered.

“Excuse me—might I rest here awhile?”

The old woman readily agreed.

“Come in, come in. But I’m afraid I don’t have any fine tea to offer you.”

Wen Shigao was gladdened by the old woman’s sincere words.
He greeted the old woman and, sitting down, said:

“Madam, what is your family name?”

“I now go by the Shi surname, though my mother’s side was Li. It’s been ten years since my husband passed away, but with no sons to carry on, I’ve remained like this ever since.
Since my husband was tenth in birth order, people came to call me Shi Shiniang. And you?”

“I hail from Gusu, of the Wen family. I’ve come to admire the mountains and waters of West Lake, simply enjoying my travels here.”

“So you’re a man of refined tastes, then.”

Wen Shigao, realizing the old woman was no simple country bumpkin, thought it would be advantageous to question her further.

“Old woman, there’s a house with a large gate next door. What sort of household is that?”

“That’s Commander Liu Wanhu’s residence—a grand household like that, yet they’ve no sons, just a single young mistress called Miss Xiuying. She’s eighteen now and still hasn’t married.”

“What reason could there be for a young lady from such a household to remain unmarried even at eighteen?”

“Well now, since the young mistress possesses both excellent character and keen intellect—not to mention her skill in poetry and prose—the Commander dotes on her excessively and seeks to adopt a man who has risen to high office. But with no suitable candidate found, matters remain unresolved. Pitiable indeed, as her years advance day by day.”

“Old woman, do you know that young lady?”

“Since we’re neighbors and I frequent their house—what with her buying cosmetics like face powder from me—I know the young lady quite well.”

“I see.”

Wen Shigao suddenly realized he must not handle matters too hastily. He feigned disinterest toward the woman, then bid farewell to the old woman and returned home.

As he walked back, Wen concluded there was no path to approach the woman except through that old woman’s mediation. Since she lived humbly by her own labor, he reasoned a small monetary offering might secure her earnest efforts; with a mediator already acquainted with both parties, securing favorable fortune seemed not entirely impossible. Even as these thoughts formed, the words the woman had addressed to him resurfaced in his mind.

(Oh what a handsome gentleman!)

Wen Shigao returned to his house before Zhaoqing Temple, but his mind was so filled with thoughts of the woman that he could not bring himself to look at his books.
Then when night came and he lay down upon his bed, he found himself unable to sleep—the woman’s pale face seemed to hover right before him.

Before long, Shigao’s body began moving of its own accord, leading him out of his house and to the City God Temple.
It was only upon reaching the City God Temple that he regained awareness.
As his senses returned, he found himself wanting to know whether a heavenly bond existed between himself and that woman.
He entered the temple, burned incense, offered red candles, and prayed.

In the blink of an eye, the statue of the City God took on the semblance of a living person and commanded the attendant judge beside him to fetch the marriage register.
When the attendant judge brought the register as commanded, the City God examined it, took up a vermilion brush, wrote characters on a slip of paper, and handed it to Shigao.
Wondering what was written there, Shigao turned his gaze to it.
Upon it was written: "To inquire of thy marriage, look only to the scented hook; A broken mirror made whole again forms a circle; A sorrowful yet destined pair."

When Shigao finished reading it, the judge barked.
Shigao startled awake.
Shigao realized for the first time that he had been dreaming, yet even so, he found it strange that he could still clearly recall the four-line prophetic text.
Shigao then pondered the meaning of two lines from the prophetic text: “A broken mirror made whole again forms a circle; A sorrowful yet destined pair.”
He reasoned that since union leads to separation and separation leads to union, one must await the appointed time.

However, Shigao could not bring himself to believe in such a prophetic text akin to child's play.
He rose as though impatient for dawn to break, quickly finished his meal, and headed to Shi Shiniang’s shop at Broken Bridge.

In the shop, the old woman had been arranging goods, and upon finishing, she suddenly looked up and spotted Shigao, who had come to the storefront.

“Young master, you’re here quite early. Has some business arisen?”

“I have something to ask of you, old woman.”

Wen Shigao entered the shop.
The old woman leaned in with an air of unbearable curiosity about what request might be made of her.

"What... could it be... that you wish to ask of me?"

"There’s a small matter I’d like to ask of you, you see."

Wen Shigao took out some silver from his robe and deftly slipped it into the old woman’s sleeve.
It was two silver ingots.

"Old woman, as I have no wife yet, I wish to ask you to act as matchmaker."

The old woman immediately understood who Wen Shigao had his sights set on.
However, this was something an unknown scholar traveling abroad could not hope to fulfill.
The old woman feigned ignorance as she spoke.

“Young master wishes to make a request—which young mistress might that be?”

“Well... That would be... the young mistress from the Liu household you told me about yesterday.”

Wen Shigao spoke haltingly out of awkwardness.

"That one, young master—it's impossible. With other young mistresses I might manage to arrange matters, but with the Liu family's daughter—Commander Liu is a man of iron principles. Though military officers throughout Hangzhou's walled city have been proposing one after another, he hasn't accepted any. And you're but a traveler, aren't you? Utterly out of the question."

Having said this, the old woman withdrew the silver ingots Wen had slipped into her sleeve.

“I’m returning this—it’s simply impossible.”

“W-wait! There’s one more thing I must tell you—please hear me out first.”

Wen Shigao pressed down on the old woman’s hand holding the silver and brought his mouth close to her ear.

“Old woman, when I say these things, I’m not speaking without knowing the young mistress. Before coming here yesterday, I went into that estate and was viewing the garden when she stood on the tower, saw me, and said, ‘Oh, what a handsome gentleman!’ So she must know me too. Quietly arrange a meeting with her—confirm whether such an exchange truly occurred—and tell her I hold her in my thoughts as well. I’ll return this evening.”

From the middle of Shigao’s account, the old woman began nodding repeatedly.

“That must be true—the young mistress praising you, young master.”

“It’s absolutely true!”

“If it’s true, I could speak to the young mistress, but if it’s a reckless lie, I’ll never meet with her again.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable! Please plead my case to the young mistress.”

“I’ll go for you, but remember this hinges on fate—if destiny isn’t with us, it cannot be done.”

“If fate isn’t with us, then there’s nothing to be done indeed.”

Shigao promised the old woman to meet later and returned to his own home.

The old woman Shi Shiniang put away the silver ingots received from Wen Shigao, ate her midday meal, and then took the newly prepared face powder and rare floral hairpin to the Liu family’s residence.

At the Liu family’s residence, Madame, who had been bustling about here and there, spotted Shi Shiniang entering through the kitchen door.

“Granny, you haven’t come at all lately—what’s happened?”

“Things have been as hectic as ever with my humble affairs, so I must beg your pardon for my prolonged absence. Today, a rare flower hairpin has come into my possession, and I thought to present it for the young mistress’s appraisal.”

“Ah, I see. That’s good—I’ve been waiting for you to come.”

Thereupon, the old woman received a cup of tea, drank it, and went to Xiuying’s embroidery room.
Xiuying was leaning against the upstairs railing in a daze at that moment—she was envisioning the face of the young scholar she had seen yesterday.

“Good day, Miss.”

When the old woman called out, Xiuying turned around with a start.

“Oh! It’s you, Granny! Welcome! You haven’t visited at all lately—have you brought something nice today?”

“Today I happened upon something splendid, so I thought to present it for your appraisal and brought it up here.”

The old woman placed the bundle on the table, took out a single flower hairpin with a gold stem and silver branches from within it, and brought it to Xiuying’s head.

“It will suit you perfectly.”

And after inserting it into the lustrous black hair,

“It truly suits you so well! Why not go all the way and hold your wedding, so this old woman might receive a celebratory cup from you?”

Xiuying smirked and looked at the old woman’s face.
And then, the maid Chun Jiao came in with tea.
The old woman received it and, while drinking, said.

“Rather than this tea, I’d much sooner partake of your celebratory wine. For as you’ve always shown me such favor, Miss, I wish to repay your kindness by arranging an excellent match for you.”

“Horrid Granny!”

Though her words protested, her face showed no trace of true aversion.
The old woman quietly surveyed her surroundings.
Chun Jiao had already left, leaving no one else but Xiuying and herself.
The old woman pressed right up beside Xiuying.

“Miss, there is something I wish to share with you—might I be permitted to speak?”

“What is it? Go ahead—if it’s from you, Granny.”

“Then I shall speak plainly, Miss. Did you not happen to notice the gentleman who came and stood by the pond here yesterday?”

As she spoke, the old woman studied her face.
Liu Xiuying’s eyelids faintly reddened.

“I didn’t see him.”

Yet this was no true denial.

“But Miss, that gentleman came to my humble abode today. He said he noticed you being here yesterday—and that you even called out to him! He praised your exquisite grace most ardently.”

Xiuying turned crimson all the way to her ears.
The old woman sensed her moment had come.

“He is a gentleman from Suzhou—a certain Mr. Wen—who possesses both talent and learning. His character is so distinguished that I believe he would bring no shame to you as a husband.”

Having said this, the old woman looked at Xiuying’s face.
Xiuying smiled faintly while keeping her face bowed.
The old woman thought that nine-tenths of the matter was already settled.

“That gentleman has been so lovesick over you since your meeting that he’s come to my humble abode time and again, imploring me to convey his feelings. Please do give him some reply—he’s truly pitiable.”

“But I... I don’t know how to put it into words.”

Xiuying trailed off briefly after saying this,

“Has that gentleman ever been married before?”

The old woman promptly said.

“He has not! Were he such a man, I would never act as matchmaker. He is not so frivolous—truly, in character and bearing, he would make a most suitable husband for you. That is why I mediate this match. Might you entrust this matter to me?”

Liu Xiuying nodded.
The old woman was relieved.

“Then I shall let that gentleman know and have him rejoice.”

The old woman began putting the items back into her bundle and prepared to leave.
Xiuying placed her hand on the old woman’s sleeve.

“Granny, you mustn’t tell anyone about this—promise?”

“As if I would ever speak of it!”

The old woman paid her respects to the lady of the house and returned home.
At the shop, Shigao had already arrived and was waiting.
Shigao, seeing the old woman’s expression as she entered, intuitively knew their scheme had succeeded.
Shigao resolved then to send Xiuying a poem and returned home, but that night too, he remained too agitated to sleep.

And Shigao, who had been impatiently awaiting dawn, dipped his brush in thick ink and inscribed a seven-character quatrain upon a white silk handkerchief.

A peerless celestial beauty lamenting her fleeting youth,

How can youth not yearn for the immortal?

A single phrase has sealed our bond across three lifetimes,

Let not this silken token be lost before us.

Shigao took that poem to Shi Shiniang’s shop.

“Granny, please deliver this for me, and get a reply from the young mistress. I’ll reward you handsomely later.”

The old woman placed the poem into her sleeve, took up her bundle of cosmetics and hairpins, and set off for the Liu residence.
Then, entering through the kitchen entrance, she said to the lady.

“Yesterday, the young lady selected some fine flower hairpins, but today I’ve found even finer pieces, so I’ve brought them up.”

Having said that, the old woman tidied herself before the lady and went up to the upper floor where Xiuying was.
On the upper floor, Liu Xiuying was lying on the daybed.
The old woman boldly approached her side.

“Miss, I must apologize for my rudeness yesterday.”

The old woman took that poem from her sleeve and placed it in Xiuying’s hand.
Xiuying cast her eyes upon it.

“What a lovely poem, don’t you think?”

“Please, I beg you to compose a matching verse for this. He awaits your response.”

Xiuying took her eyes off the poem and smiled pointedly.
“I simply cannot do it, you see.”

“Please don’t say such things, I beg of you.”

“Very well.”

Xiuying took out a handkerchief she had embroidered herself from a nearby box and dipped the brush.

The hero himself walks through stormy times,
Could maiden’s delicate brows dare recognize divinity?
Should you seek where Wuling lies,
Follow peach blossoms and flowing streams to your gate.

The old woman, having seen that poem, thought it permissible to send Shigao to Xiuying.
She hinted at this intention to Xiuying.
Yet Xiuying remained uncertain how to receive him.

“Tonight when all have retired late, come to that stone in the garden. Tie a rope to yonder tree and cast its end beyond the wall—then he may climb up.”

“Shall we throw down the swing rope? There’s a large tree over there—we could tie it there. If he climbs along that tree from the wall, he’ll reach you without trouble. But that tree’s half-rotten—it’s dangerous.”

“That’s fine—such things are men’s business anyway.”

Since their discussion had reached an agreement, the old woman prepared to leave.
Xiuying brought out the embroidered shoes there.

“Please give this to him, won’t you?”

The old woman put the poem and embroidered shoes into her sleeve, then returned home carrying her bundle.

At the old woman’s shop, Shigao, who had been waiting there, was enveloped in such joy that he had to clench both hands into fists to endure it, as if he might lose his mind.
He returned home once, waited for night to fall, changed into fresh clothes, and went back to the old woman’s place.

The old woman gauged the time and led Shigao to the back gate.
There was a pale moonlight there.
The two of them pressed themselves into the shadows to avoid being caught in that light.

A faint rustle sounded as the end of a rope tumbled down from atop the Liu family's wall.
It was the swing rope.
The old woman wordlessly urged Shigao forward.

Shigao grasped the rope, gave it an experimental tug, then began to climb.
He soon reached the wall's summit but vanished from sight at once.
Seeing this, the old woman assumed Shigao had successfully entered the Liu residence. She closed the back gate and retreated inside.

Shigao shifted from the wall's edge to the branches of an ancient tree that spread its limbs there, cautiously working his way downward.
Mid-descent, the branch snapped.
Shigao fell straight down to the ground.

Xiuying, who had thrown down the swing rope and waited for Shigao's arrival, rejoiced when she saw him climb onto the wall in the moonlight and move to the old tree's branches—but no sooner had she felt this joy than Shigao fell, throwing her into such disarray that she ran off.

Shigao lay collapsed on the Seiun Stone.
Liu Xiuying put her hands on him.

“Are you... Are you injured?”

Shigao neither responded nor moved.
Even when straining to listen, there was no breath.
Xiuying frantically ran her hands over Shigao’s body here and there, but his form remained motionless.

In Xiuying’s mind—as if she had been plunged into a dark abyss—rose the reproach of her parents that would arise from Shigao’s corpse.
Moreover, even though Shigao had died for her sake, she could not bear to go on living alone.
She retied the swing rope to the branch and wept.

Chun Jiao, the maid, was a heavy sleeper, and since she had received Xiuying’s permission to retire early that evening, she remained unaware of the incident that had occurred. Moreover, Chun Jiao—who had grown accustomed to being awakened by Xiuying every morning—slept on and on that day since no one came to rouse her. It was then that the madam came upstairs bringing water to wash Xiuying’s face.

Chun Jiao awoke at the sound of the madam’s voice.
The madam scolded Chun Jiao and went to Xiuying’s bed.
Xiuying’s figure was nowhere to be seen on the bed.
The madam asked Chun Jiao about Xiuying there, but Chun Jiao didn’t know.

The madam went downstairs.
On the Seiun Stone in the garden lay a young man, and from the old tree’s branch hung Xiuying.
The madam ran like a madwoman and lifted Xiuying’s body.

“Quickly—this! This!”

Chun Jiao, also recognizing the situation, ran to her side but had no idea what to do.
The madam scolded Chun Jiao into untying the rope, lowered Xiuying down, and stroked her body and blew breath into her mouth—but she did not revive.

The madam entered their bedroom while weeping.
There, her husband Liu Wanhu was still sleeping.
When Liu Wanhu heard the dire news from his wife, his face changed color. He leapt to his feet and hurriedly rushed to the garden.

In the garden lay a young man and his own woman as ugly corpses.
Liu Wanhu glared at the corpses with fury akin to having excrement dumped on his head, when suddenly he desired to know the relationship between the two.
Beside him stood Chun Jiao, her face pale.

“Chun Jiao! You must know something. Out with it!”

Chun Jiao trembled but understood silence was no longer an option.

“I... I know nothing at all. That was Shi Shiniang’s doing.”

Liu Wanhu decided there was no point hearing trivial details later—he must dispose of the corpses immediately.
Yet disposing of an unidentified man’s corpse posed difficulties.
He turned to his wife and said.

“As for this corpse,” he said of his daughter’s body, “we can manage—but what of the man’s?”

Liu Wanhu suddenly remembered Shi Shiniang.

“Regardless—bring that crone here! Fetch Shi Shiniang!”

Through Chun Jiao’s trembling lips, Liu Wanhu’s order reached the household retainers.
Two servants sprinted to Shi Shiniang’s shop.

The old woman had risen at dawn to check the back gate—Wen Shigao should have returned by nightfall—and now trembled when confronted by the Lius’ messenger.
Though unwell in spirit, she followed fearfully behind the envoy.

The messenger guided the old woman toward the garden.
There stood the madam, weeping.
“Old woman, you’ve done well to kill our child, haven’t you?”

The old woman thought Wen Shigao’s secret intrusion had been exposed.

“Madam, I know nothing of this affair—only that Wen Shigao and the young mistress shared affections through poetry.”

“Old woman, look what’s become of our child!”

By the Seiun Stone, two corpses lay visible as Liu Wanhu stood nearby.
The old woman unsteadily went to that side.
Wen Shigao’s face, devoid of blood. Xiuying’s face.
The old woman was overcome with genuine sorrow and burst into tears.
To the old woman’s ears came the voice of Liu Wanhu.

“You’ve done a fine job causing this mess—spare us your tears. But no matter what’s said now, it’s too late. What matters is disposing of these two corpses before others find out. I want it done quietly, without even the servants knowing. Well, old woman—got any clever ideas?”

The old woman had already stopped crying.

"That’s no trouble at all. My niece’s husband Li Fu runs a coffin shop—if we have him prepare one large enough for two, then quietly carry it out at night for burial, no one will be any the wiser."

Liu Wanhu consulted with his wife and handed thirty taels of silver to Shi Shiniang.
Shi Shiniang took the silver to her niece’s place and whispered in her ear.

Thereupon, Li Fu the coffin maker hurriedly crafted a large coffin, had two or three men carry it, and stealthily made his way to the Liu family’s rear gate at dusk. At the entrance, Chun Jiao stood waiting and opened the door to let them inside.

The coffin was carried into the house, but first the coffin bearers were sent outside, leaving Li Fu alone inside. He then placed the two corpses—a man and a woman—that lay there into the coffin.
When he had finished placing them inside, the madam tearfully brought Xiuying’s necklaces and hairpins and placed them into the coffin.
Li Fu watched her actions furtively.

Before long, the coffin was carried out, transported to the foot of Tianlai Mountain, and buried in accordance with local customs by lightly covering its perimeter with soil.

There was moonlight there, revealing the desolate scenery of the surroundings.
When the burial was completed, Li Fu gave a small amount of coins to everyone.

“I’ll clean up here and head back. You lot go on ahead.”

When the coffin bearers had vanished from sight, Li Fu grabbed the hoe at his feet and began scraping away the freshly piled soil from the coffin. He had been eyeing the necklaces and such placed inside the coffin. In his mind, they had become treasures worth three hundred gold pieces.

After removing the soil, he tapped one side of the coffin with the hoe’s head. When he did, the lid opened without resistance—he had already loosened the nails here and there when first sealing it.

Li Fu knelt on one knee and crouched down, reaching his hand inside to grope around what he presumed to be Xiuying’s head area. There lay what appeared to be a necklace. Li Fu delightedly pulled it out and held it up to the moonlight to examine. It was indeed a necklace crafted from gold and silver. The madam had placed many other items inside as well. Li Fu reached in and groped again. His hand touched what felt like a dead person’s face. Li Fu shuddered and pulled back his hand, but as he did so, his elbow struck the coffin’s edge, causing his hand to strike the corpse’s face with force once again. A strange groaning sound arose from within. Li Fu thought a ghost of the dead had emerged. He leapt back and fled toward the inhabited area.

The one who had groaned was Shigao.
At this moment, he both felt pain in his body and regained consciousness.
He thus opened his eyes.
In the narrow coffin faintly lit by moonlight, he became aware of himself lying there.
He bore the pain in his body and looked at what lay right beside him.
It was a young woman.
Above the coffin, he could see tree branches moving.

There was no mistaking it—they were in the wilderness.
There, Shigao remembered that he had fallen from a tree.
The woman’s face was Xiuying.
He recalled that due to his own suspended animation, she must have followed him in death, leading to their burial together.
He rose and stood with his painful body.
It was indeed at the graveside that they had been placed inside the coffin.
The fact that the lid had been removed was strange, but...

Shigao was overjoyed at his miraculous revival, but the thought of Xiuying being dead made his survival agonizing.
He crouched down, lifted Xiuying’s body, and peered into her face.
He then attempted to ascertain the cause of her death.
He detected a faint breath around her nostrils.
Shigao pressed his mouth to the edge of her ear and called her name.

The woman finally opened her eyes.
Xiuying had revived.
They clasped hands and wept.

Wen Shigao and Liu Xiuying decided to go into hiding until the time was ripe.
They replaced the coffin lid, covered it with soil as before, took the necklaces and other items from inside the coffin, and that night made their way by moonlight to the canal bank. From there, they hired a boat and set off for Shigao’s hometown of Suzhou.

Shigao’s parents had long since passed away, and with neither siblings nor other relatives, he was free to act as he wished.
He returned to his home in Suzhou and immediately held a wedding ceremony with Xiuying.

And while the two were there, the Red Turban Rebellion broke out.
This was during the final years of the Zhizheng era. Though the Son of Heaven remained Emperor Yuan Shundi, having heard that Hangzhou's Liu Wanhu was a man of talent, he summoned him for service.

Though Liu Wanhu disliked this, he could not refuse. Thus he set out for the capital with his wife—but just then, the rebel Zhang Shicheng established himself in Suzhou and began pillaging.
This blocked their path, making advancement impossible.
With no alternative, they took lodgings at a place called Wumen and remained there.

At that time, Wen Shigao and Liu Xiuying had likewise fled to Wumen by blending into the crowd to avoid Zhang Shicheng’s soldiers invading the city walls. But just as they found an inn to enter, an old man who resembled Liu Wanhu stood at its entrance.
When she saw this, Liu Xiuying whispered to Wen Shigao.

“That’s Father! Why would he be here?”

Thereupon, Shigao went before Liu Wanhu.

“Sir, are you not from Hangzhou?”

It was indeed Liu Wanhu.
Shigao turned back and whispered this to Xiuying.
Then the two entered a separate room, but Xiuying—wanting to see her mother—ignored Shigao's attempts to stop her and went that night to weep before her parents' chamber door.

Liu Wanhu and his wife heard a woman's weeping and remarked how it resembled Xiuying's voice, until at last they rose and opened the door.
The madam wondered if Xiuying's figure might be a ghost when she saw it, but overcome with longing, she clasped her close.

Liu Wanhu sent people to excavate the grave at the foot of Tianzhu Mountain, but finding nothing inside, he finally came to believe Shigao and Xiuying’s account.

As they all stayed there, Zhang Shicheng’s army was defeated and the roads finally became passable, so Liu Wanhu had to depart in haste.

Wen Shigao attempted to accompany Liu Wanhu to the capital together with Xiuying.
When it came time to board the carriage, Liu Wanhu let only Xiuying enter, and when Shigao attempted to get in, he blocked him.

“I won’t have someone like you.”

Liu Xiuying reached out from the carriage, clung to Shigao, and wept.
Shigao too refused to let go.

“In my family, for generations, we have never taken men without rank or office as sons-in-law. If you want a woman, study hard and rise through the imperial examinations.”

After saying this and humiliating Shigao, Liu Wanhu had the carriage depart.
Wen Shigao stood there weeping openly, but being unable to part from the woman, he took what appeared to be the road the carriage had traveled and journeyed to the capital.

Liu Wanhu was greatly employed, his presence grand and imposing.
Wen Shigao had gone to the capital but, being unable to approach Xiuying, took lodgings at an inn where he thought of nothing but meeting her.

Before long his travel funds ran out, leaving him in dire straits.
It was year's end now, snow falling upon the streets.
As Shigao trudged aimlessly through the town, an old woman carrying a sake jug approached from ahead. When they passed each other, he saw it was Shi Shiniang.
Just as Wen Shigao made to call out, the old woman turned her gaze his way.
The instant she glimpsed his face, she broke into a terrified run.
As she fled she chanted "Guanyin Bodhisattva" again and again.

Realizing at once that the old woman feared him as one who had died, Wen Shigao gave chase.

“Shi Shiniang! Shi Shiniang! It’s me, Shigao! I’m alive! There’s nothing to fear! I have my reasons for being alive!”

At that very moment, the old woman tripped and flung the sake jug forward.
Shigao approached her side.

“Shi Shiniang! I’ve come back to life! I’m not dead at all! There’s nothing to fear!”

Having said that, he helped the old woman to her feet, then picked up the sake jug as well, all while recounting how he and Xiuying had revived.

“Fearing divine retribution, I fled that very night with Li Fu. Since I have a connection to a female relative here, we came relying on that and have been staying under her care.”

Shigao was then accompanied by the old woman and went to her female relative’s house.
The woman’s husband and the woman came out, warmed the spilled sake from the jug that had been thrown down, and hosted them.

Wen Shigao, having exhausted his travel funds, found himself under care there and resolved to take the imperial examinations. He devoted himself to studying until the day finally arrived; when he sat for the exams, he not only passed but was elevated to a high rank.

Meanwhile, on Liu Wanhu’s side, high-ranking officials came seeking Xiuying’s hand in marriage, and each time he attempted to arrange a union, Xiuying stubbornly refused.
He had no choice but to leave matters as they were when Wen Shigao’s name began circulating.
Liu Wanhu secretly felt ashamed of his own lack of foresight.

Thereupon, Wen Shigao asked Shi Shiniang to propose a renewed marriage tie to the Liu family.
The Liu family gladly consented, so they immediately held the wedding ceremony.

Wen Shigao generously repaid Shi Shiniang’s entire household and associated with them as relatives. However, as the world grew increasingly chaotic and their family property in Suzhou was lost, the couple returned to West Lake, retiring to the Liu family’s old residence where they spent the remainder of their lives.