Chinese Fairy Tales and Fantasies (Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) (4 page)

One day when the maid was feeding it, the bird suddenly spoke: “Take good care of me, sister, and you’ll deserve a proper husband for it.” Abashed, the maid slapped at the bird with her fan, but it did not flinch. From that time the maid would respond with a jest or a scolding whenever the bird had something to say, until the practice of chattering to it became a habit that she was no longer conscious of. For after all, she was alone in a single room with only a bird in a hanging cage. And if the confidences whispered between them made them intimate companions, whose business was it?

One day the maid was in the bath when the bird had just finished bathing. The creature was so tame that she had not locked its cage, and to her surprise it shook its wings and flew out, circling the room. She snatched at it frantically, but the bird punctured the paper window, looped through it, and was gone, leaving the maid watching helplessly.

Terrified of her master, the girl contrived to hide her guilt. She dressed and moved the cage to the eaves outside her room, then
went to him and said tearfully, “Your obedient waiting maid forgot and closed her door to bathe, never expecting to be taken advantage of by someone who came in and released the bird. But I gladly bear the blame and would even die without resentment for my offense.”

The master, who knew full well that the other maids were jealous of her, accepted her story. He questioned the rest of the household but could not find the culprit, and the investigation was dropped.

Ten days later the master’s wife sent the waiting maid on an errand to a matron named Liang. The matron’s unmarried son, Liang Hsü, was spending the day reading in his study. Presently a bird flew in and settled itself on his desk. In a human voice it said, “I have been searching for an ideal mate for you. Why don’t you go and have a look?” Startled, Hsü put down his book and chased after the talking parrot. It led him out of his room, and he spied an enchanting maid of sixteen, dressed in dark colors except for a red skirt, shyly enter the house. Now the parrot was nowhere to be seen.

Hsü looked into the girl’s face and saw that her beauty was truly exceptional. He found an excuse to follow her into the inner hall, where she conversed softly and fluidly with his mother. There he learned that she was a waiting maid in a mighty household. Yet her demure air utterly captivated him. The waiting maid also noticed the highborn youth and glanced at him from time to time. Though they could not exchange a single word, their affections were engaged.

On returning to her house the waiting maid went to her room, where the empty cage sat beside her bed. Perched on top of it was the bird, peacefully resting with eyes shut and talons curled. As happy as if she had found a royal jewel, the waiting maid snatched at the bird, which fluttered away and protested loudly: “Here I am, sister, nearly spent from dashing about on your behalf, and by good fortune I have found a fine husband for you. Why do you still want to lock me up?” Marveling, the maid listened while the bird told its story.

The bird concluded: “Though I cannot carry you two off beyond the compound wall as the heroic slave of fiction did, I can communicate your heart’s desire to him, sister, if he is indeed the man you care for.”

The waiting maid blushed but made no reply. “Young people
in love were ever this way,” the parrot scoffed. “But someone may be coming, and I must leave now.” With that the bird set its feathers in motion and flew off.

The girl had been deeply attracted to Liang Hsü and felt ashamed to be joining the ranks of the master’s concubines. Tossing and turning through the night, she was tormented by these two emotions.

The next day when the bird saw that no one was around, it returned to its original perch. The maid beckoned to it and said, “The master dotes on me and will never surrender me to the Liangs. To him that would be ‘using a pearl to shoot down a sparrow.’ Then again, young Liang is handsome, talented, and rich. Suppose he
were
attracted to a fresh flower; would he stoop to take a waiting maid for his proper wife? I thank you for your trouble, but I fear such an affair must fail. Nothing can be done.”

The bird stirred its wings, swept away, and did not come back until evening. Then under cover of darkness it flew into the room and told the maid, “Young Liang shows his feelings for you in this verse.” The parrot recited a poem written by the young man:

The maid rejoiced to hear this and confided her heartfelt wish to the parrot. As morning approached, she set the bird free.

In his lonely study, Liang Hsü had been thinking of the maid night and day. When he rose that morning and saw a hovering bird, it looked to him like the one that had come before. He joked with it, saying, “My good fellow, can you tell me something of the lady of my heart? Certainly you are a bird among birds; we shall have to have a biography of you so that you will be remembered for all eternity!”

The bird flew down and furled its wings, settling upon a painted screen. It told Liang of the maid’s affection and the depth of her anxiety. Elated, Hsü asked if the maid could read. “Somewhat,” the bird replied, and then and there Hsü wrote a letter revealing his love and vowing to marry her. He sealed the note and set it on the ground. The parrot swooped down, took the paper in its beak, and flew away, leaving Liang Hsü more astonished than ever by the oddness of it all.

For several days the young man did not see the bird. All news of the maid was abruptly cut off, and he was racked by yearning and despair. Then he heard that a maid in the great household where his beloved served had died and been hastily buried. Suspecting the worst, he made inquiries and verified that it was his own heart’s love, though he could not discover the cause of her death. So great was his grief that he almost lost his voice from weeping.

What Liang Hsü did not know was that the maid had seen his note and, ashamed of her inability to write, had removed an earring and given it to the bird to carry back to her intended. The bird was to tell him the location of her parents’ home and ask him to visit them and make a gift of money. Her freedom could then be redeemed and she could marry Liang Hsü.

The bird took the earring in its beak and flew aloft, but midway
in its course a young tough struck it in the cheek with a rock. The talking parrot tumbled lifeless to the ground.

It was not long before disaster struck the maid also. At first the master had favored her because of her beauty, and everyone had expected that she would take her place among the master’s concubines. But she had resisted the idea and had grumbled behind the master’s back. When she had put the blame for the lost bird on the other maids and servants, they had looked at her askance even though they had escaped a whipping. They feared that she would cause trouble for them once she became the master’s favorite concubine, so they soon attacked her in unison. Having heard her talking to the bird in her room during the night, they spread the slander that she was involved with some man. The tale was quickly sowed in the ear of the master, who began to nurse a deep jealousy. Presently he made a search of the maid’s room and came across Liang Hsü’s love letter. Enraged now, he had the maid interrogated under torture. Since the story of the parrot partook somewhat of the absurd, the maid herself could not give a clear account of it, and so she was beaten until her body was covered with bruises and her breath scarcely came. Though she was near death, the master did not wait but put her alive into a coffin and ordered her buried in the wilds.

After he learned of her death, Liang Hsü treasured the memory of his buried jewel. He sat, wounded in spirit, and dozed off at his desk. Suddenly a woman entered his dreams. Clothed in feathers, she walked with a dancing gait as she came before him and pulled her lapels together in the ceremonial salute traditionally required of women. “I am the parrot,” she said, “and my elder sister, your heart’s love, is a parrot as well. Thanks to her virtuous conduct in our previous lifetime, she was transformed into a human, and by chance I was reunited with her. I became concerned that she would be humiliated in an unworthy match, so I respectfully made an occasion to introduce her to you. Who would have thought I would die before accomplishing my mission—leaving my sister’s virtue to be defiled, a wrong she bore unto death. The pity of it! And yet something of her vital force still remains, though none save you can help her.”

In his dream Liang Hsü was overjoyed and rose to question the vision. Pointing a finger, she said, “One hundred paces beyond the city … the tomb of the fair one is not far away …” The
woman fell to the ground, turned into a crane, and soared to the heavens.

Liang Hsü awoke with a start. At once he ordered his horse and rode out beyond the city wall. He knew of a certain hamlet whose name had the same sound as “hundred paces,” the hint in the dream. There he found the burial site, although he did not dare open it right away. He took a room in the hamlet, and when night came he paid his servant to accompany him to the dread place and help him open the tomb. It was not very deep, and when they reached the coffin he thought he could hear the sound of breathing. He broke open the lid, and the maid returned to life.

Delirious with joy, Liang Hsü went to a nearby Buddhist convent and humbly knocked at the gates. He related in full his reasons for coming, and the nuns, who took pleasure in acts of charity, agreed to help him lift the maid from the hole. Liang Hsü carried her to the convent on his own back and left her with the nuns. After seeing to the costs, he went home.

It was over a month before the maid regained her strength. Then Liang Hsü asked a nun from the convent to be his matchmaker and explain as forcefully as possible to his mother that his heart belonged to a girl from a poor home.

Hsü’s mother went to see the maid whom she remembered meeting once before, and listened sympathetically to the girl’s tearful story. Having always treasured her son, the mother would never thwart his wishes. She took his fiancée home from the convent and severed relations with the maid’s former household, so that the girl’s whereabouts were kept secret. And Liang Hsü remembered the talking parrot’s kindness so well that whenever he met someone who had captured one of these birds, he would buy it and free it.

—
Hao Ko Tzu

On the Isle of Relics in Shantung multicolored flowers are in bloom the year round. No one has ever lived on the island, and even visitors rarely go there.

A youth named Chang was a lover of things strange and curious. Having heard of the marvelous sights on the island, he prepared wine and food and rowed himself there in a small skiff.

He arrived when the flowers were at their greatest glory, exhaling fragrance that could be scented for a mile. Trees were there too, wide as a dozen spans. He was enraptured and unwilling to leave. He opened his winejar and poured for himself, regretting only that he had no one to keep him company.

Suddenly from among the flowers a beautiful maiden appeared wearing a dazzling red robe. She was unlike anyone he had ever laid eyes upon. She smiled at Chang and said, “I thought I was alone in my enthusiasm for this place, and never imagined I would find a kindred spirit here.” Startled, Chang asked her who she was.

“I am a singing girl from Chiaochou,” she continued. “I have come with the sea prince, who has taken off in pursuit of scenic wonders. I remained behind because it is difficult for me to walk.”

Chang was elated to have so beautiful a maid end his loneliness, and he invited her to sit with him and drink. The maid spoke with a warm and tender turn of phrase that stirred his feelings. Chang was strongly attracted to her, but he feared that the sea prince might come and prevent him from fulfilling his desires.

As he was thinking, a wind sprang up and rustled the trees, which leaned and bent with its force. “The sea prince!” cried the maid. Chang clutched his clothes and looked in astonishment: the maid was gone! Then he saw a giant serpent emerge from the trees, its body thick as a large bamboo. Hoping it would not notice him, Chang hid behind a tree, but it drew closer and began wrapping itself coil by coil around both man and tree. Chang’s arms were locked between his legs, and he could not move them. The serpent raised its head and jabbed at Chang’s nose with its tongue. Blood poured out of his nose and formed a pool on the ground, and the serpent leaned down to drink it. Chang thought he was going to die.