Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) (17 page)

Hsü Shan-ken of Shantung province made his living by digging ginseng roots, which are used in a precious tonic. Traditionally, ginseng diggers must do their work on the darkest possible nights. During one such night Hsü became exhausted from digging and went to sleep upon the sandy ground. He awoke to find himself clutched in the hand of a man some thirty feet tall who was covered all over with reddish hair. The giant was stroking Hsü Shan-ken and rubbing Hsü’s body against his fur, as if he were playing with pearls or jade. At each stroke the giant burst into wild laughter, and Hsü reckoned that he was going to be the creature’s next meal.

He felt himself being carried off. The giant took him to a cave containing mounds of such things as tiger sinew, deer tail, and elephant tusk. There the giant placed Hsü on a stone bed and offered him some tiger and deer meat. Although the ginseng digger was delighted to find that he was not himself going to be gobbled up, he could not eat the bloody chunks of flesh. The giant lowered his head as if he were thinking; then he nodded as if he understood. He struck a stone and made a fire, drew some water, and set a pot to boil. Cutting up the meat, he added it to the pot, and when the stew was ready the giant presented it to Hsü, who ate with relish.

As dawn approached, the giant took Hsü and five arrows and went out of the cave to the base of a cliff. There he tied Hsü to a tall tree and withdrew, leaving the ginseng digger terrified that the giant meant to shoot him. Presently a pack of tigers, scenting a live human, came out of caves in the cliffside. They jostled each
other in their haste to get at Hsü, and the giant drew his arrows and killed them. Then he untied Hsü and carried him home in his arms, meanwhile dragging the dead tigers behind him. As before, he cooked them and offered his captive a feast

For more than a month Hsü served the giant as tiger bait. The ginseng digger came to no harm, and the giant grew quite fat. But one day Hsü became homesick and, kneeling before the giant, implored him tearfully, pointing again and again to the east. Weeping also, the giant took Hsü in his arms back to the place where he had been captured. He showed Hsü the way home and pointed out a number of choice ginseng patches. And that is how Hsü Shan-ken became a wealthy man.

—Yüan Mei

When I was young and living in Palm Lane, I saw a beggar who had a cloth sack and two bamboo tubes. In the sack he kept nine frogs. The tubes contained more than a thousand ants, some red and some white. He would go into a shop and display his act on the counter, then demand three coppers and leave.

One of his tricks was called “The Frog Teaches School.” He set up a small chair, and a large frog leaped out of the sack and sat on it. Eight smaller frogs followed him out and formed a circle around the chair, sitting perfectly still. “Teach them!” the beggar cried. At once the large frog croaked, “Geggek.” The class repeated in unison, “Geggek.” And then all anyone could hear was “Geggek; geggek” until people’s ears were ringing. So the beggar cried, “Stop!” At once all was quiet.

The other trick was called “Ants in Battle Formation.” The beggar had two flags, one red, one white, each about a foot long. He emptied his bamboo tubes onto the counter, and the red and white ants scurried all over until he waved the red flag. “Form ranks!” he cried. The red ants formed themselves into a line. Next he waved the white flag and cried, “Form ranks!” The white ants did so too. Then he waved both flags and cried, “Mixed formation!” The ants mingled together and marched, turning left and right in perfect step. When they had made several rounds, he marched them back into the tubes.

Thus even such small dumb creatures as the frog and the ant can be taught, though I can’t imagine how it is done.

—
Yüan Mei

A man of what is now Hopei province made his living by taming snakes and teaching them tricks. Once he raised and trained two black snakes: the larger he called Big Black; the smaller, Brother Black. Brother Black, who had red dots on his forehead, was very quick to learn his tricks. His twists and turns were exactly right, and the snakeman prized him above all the snakes he had owned.

After a year Big Black died. The snakeman wanted to replace him but had not yet found the time to do it when he took lodging one night in a mountain temple. He awoke in early dawn and opened his snake basket. Brother Black was missing! Calling frantically, the snakeman searched in the dim light, but there was no trace of the snake.

In the past whenever the snakeman had come upon a dense grove or thick vegetation, he stopped and let Brother Black free to enjoy himself. Brother Black always returned, so the snakeman had reason to hope that the snake would come back now. He sat down to wait, but when the sun had climbed high in the sky he despaired and left.

He had gone several paces away from the temple when he heard a low scraping sound in the depths of the thicket. Startled, he stopped and turned back. It was Brother Black! The snakeman felt overjoyed, as if he had regained a priceless jewel. He stopped to rest at a turn in the road, and the snake stopped also. When the snakeman looked again, he saw a small snake following Brother Black.

“I thought you were lost to me,” said the snakeman, stroking Brother Black. “Are you presenting your little companion?” He took out some food for Brother Black and his follower. The smaller snake curled up, too wild and shy to eat. So Brother Black fed the newcomer from his own mouth, in much the way that a host serves his guest first. The snakeman gave the small snake more food, and this time he ate for himself. When the meal was over, the small snake followed Brother Black into the basket.

The snakeman carried the basket off. And when the new snake began to learn tricks, he performed them all perfectly, just as Brother Black did. So the snakeman named the newcomer Baby Black. He took his act all over the country and made a handsome profit.

As a rule men who handle snakes have to discard them when
they grow more than two feet long, for they weigh too much to handle. The snakeman kept Brother Black as he grew beyond the limit because he was so tame. But after another couple of years the snake reached three feet and filled the basket entirely, so the snakeman decided to let him go.

One day when he came to the eastern hills of present-day Tsinan, the snakeman fed Brother Black something special, gave him his blessing, and freed him. The snake went off for a while but then returned and circled his basket. The snakeman shooed him away. “Be off! No party lasts forever, and the best of friends must part. Retire into the valley, and soon enough you are sure to become a divine dragon. Why do you want to remain in a basket?”

Brother Black wiggled away again, and the snakeman watched him go for a long time. But again the snake returned. When the snakeman shooed him away this time, he refused to leave and knocked his head against the basket. Baby Black was inside and becoming restless. Then it occurred to the snakeman that Brother Black must want to say goodbye to Baby Black. He opened the basket, and Baby Black came straight out and wrapped himself around Brother Black. Their tongues flickered as if they were talking to each other. Then they both went off in a carefree manner. The snakeman thought that Baby Black would not return, but after a while he undulated back in a sulky sort of way and finally crawled inside the basket.

The snakeman never again found a specimen so perfect as Brother Black. Meanwhile Baby Black was growing larger and unfit for handling. The snakeman acquired another snake that was rather tame but not the equal of Baby Black, who by this time was as thick as a child’s arm.

When Brother Black first began to live in the hills, a number of woodmen saw him. Years later he had grown several feet and was as thick as a bowl. He began to come out and chase people. Travelers were soon warning one another, and no one dared enter the snake’s territory. One day the snakeman was crossing the hills and a snake shot out at him like wind. Terrified, the snakeman ran. The snake pursued him and was about to overtake him when the snakeman saw the telltale red dots on his head.

“Brother Black! Brother Black!” cried the snakeman, setting down his burden. At once the snake stopped, lifted his head, and after a long while coiled himself around the snakeman, as he
used to when they worked together. The snakeman realized that the snake meant no harm, but the reptile’s body was so heavy that the man fell to the ground. He pleaded to be released, and the snake unwrapped himself and then knocked against the basket. Realizing what Brother Black wanted, the snakeman let Baby Black out.

When the two snakes met, they twisted around one another and clung tightly. After a lingering interval they separated. The snakeman gave his blessing to Baby Black. “For a long time I have wanted to let you go. Now you have a companion.” To Brother Black he said, “You brought him to begin with, now you may take him away. One word more: There’s plenty to eat in these hills. Don’t disturb the travelers and suffer heaven’s punishment.”

The two snakes lowered their heads, as if accepting the admonition. Then they perked up and began to move, the elder in front, the younger following. Where they passed, branches split under their weight. The snakeman watched until he could see them no longer, then left. No one knows where the snakes went, but travelers had no further problems.

The snake, though a dumb creature, shows affection and loyalty to a friend. It is also readily teachable. How striking, in contrast, is he who seems human but throws away a ten-year friendship, or alienates a prince whose favor his family has enjoyed for generations; who dumps rocks on a wretch who has fallen down a well, or makes enemies of those who give him good advice!

—
P’u Sung-ling