Chapter One: A Name Made Bright by Rescuing the Destitute — A Family's Fortune Secured by Redressing False Imprisonment

To the tune of "Spring in the Painted Hall":

From time immemorial, goodness alone moves Heaven's knowledge,

and how much more so the righting of wrongs and the lifting of the fallen.

Where man and spirit hold each other in reverence,

ease and contentment know no end.

Books accumulated need not all be read;

gold accumulated need not fatten the hoard.

Better far to accumulate virtue for one's descendants —

then what doubt can remain about wealth and honour?

The Commentary on the Book of Changes declares: "In families that accumulate goodness, blessings will overflow to their descendants; in families that accumulate evil, calamities will overflow to theirs." These words tell us that fortune and misfortune are called forth by the person himself — Heaven shows no private favouritism. Yet of all forms of accumulated goodness, none is greater than the hidden kind; and of all forms of accumulated evil, none is greater than the hidden kind either. Thus the blessings of secret virtue endure longest, and the retribution for secret malice falls most cruelly. In matters of law and imprisonment above all, the stakes are supreme. When a magistrate's heart inclines toward leniency and mercy, one who would have died may yet live; when his mind turns toward severity and cunning, one still living may die on the instant. How much worse when a man accepts bribes and perverts the law, willfully framing the innocent — for human life is of the gravest weight. How can we make it the sport of our moods, or carve it up like meat upon our table?

There is an old saying: If, when power is in your hands, you do not ease the way for others, it is as though you have entered a mountain of treasure only to return empty-handed. Scholars and officials who hold authority and yet do not trouble themselves to expose unjust verdicts or show compassion to the innocent — do they not gravely betray the life-cherishing heart of Heaven above?

In the time of the Han dynasty, there was a man named Yu Gong who served as a prison officer. He administered the law with fairness and was able to illuminate the grievance of a filially devoted woman wrongly condemned. He once raised the gate of his house very high, saying: "My descendants shall surely attain high distinction." Afterward, his son Yu Dingguo did indeed become Chief Justice of the realm — exactly as he had said. In the Tang dynasty there was one He Bigan, who served alongside Xu Yougong, Lai Junchen, and Hou Sizhi as an officer of punishments. He Bigan was lenient and compassionate, and overturned many unjust verdicts. The people of that time said of him and his colleagues: "To encounter Lai or Hou is certain death; to pass through Xu or He is certain life." One day an old woman came to his gate carrying more than ninety counting-sticks, and told He Bigan: "Sir, you have hidden virtue to your name. The number of your descendants who will serve as ministers and prefects, wearing seals and ribbons of office, will be as many as these counting-sticks." And so it proved — his lineage shone through successive generations. In the Song dynasty there was one Zhang Qing, a prison official who swept out the cells and kept them spotless; saw that the prisoners were fed and never left cold or hungry; and when any fell ill, spared nothing for their medicine. Though he may not have had the power to right every wrong, his descendants too won the reward of passing the imperial examinations. As for the likes of Zhou Xing and Ji Jing — those who made snares their emblem and slander their scripture, who brought ruin upon innocent commoners and spread poison among the gentry — they ended with their heads parted from their bodies, their wives, children, and entire clans put to the sword. Compared to the reward of the virtuous man, what was their fate?

In verse, I record these feelings:

Do not lightly lift the red-inked brush —

on it hang the lives of the grey-haired masses.

Forget but once the will to pity,

and you yourself are plunged into the cauldron.

What is asked of a humane official

is to uphold the law with an even hand.

If you do not hope that good will grow of itself like volunteer grain,

how can you bear the sound of ghosts weeping in your courtyard?

The very Emperor still seeks direct enquiry —

can a court assessor then indulge his private whims?

When sweeping ancestral graves, draw near the butcher's block;

fill the jar, and summon Zhou Xing to it.

Better far to be like Yu Dingguo,

whose high gates the world has long revered.

Reward and requital shall never miss their mark —

with this I venture to address all who sit in judgment.

Now, what has been said above concerns those who hold real authority, whose decisions proceed from their own will — for them, to exonerate the wrongly convicted is no great difficulty. Let me now tell of a man of low rank and small office, who possessed neither authority nor any desire to purchase a reputation with money, yet was nonetheless able to bring injustice to light and free those bound in chains. Is this not an exceedingly difficult thing?

During the Jiajing reign, there was a man named Yao Yixiang, a native of Shanghai County in Songjiang. He lost his father while still young; the family, though not without some means, produced a man of free and unrestrained spirit, careless of wealth and devoted to righteousness. He had studied for the civil examinations and was capable in both poetry and prose, but having sat for the preliminary tests several times without the fortune to pass, he had never entered school. People in his village could not help but laugh and mock him a little, and he received their jibes with perfect equanimity, taking them not the least to heart. His mother, however, having kept her widowhood and raised her only son, set her whole hope upon his winning distinction through the examinations. She gathered together what savings the household had accumulated — about four or five hundred taels of silver — and told him to go to Nanjing and purchase a student registration at the Imperial Academy. Obeying his mother's command, Yixiang took leave of his wife, brought two servants, and set out on his journey.

Nanjing, in ancient times called Jinling and also Molin, crouches like a dragon and crouches like a tiger — a great metropolitan seat of emperors. Since the Eastern Jin crossed the Yangtze, the Song, Qi, Liang, and Chen dynasties all established their capitals here. Later came the Southern Tang rulers Li Jing and Li Yu, who also built their court in this city. Thus its grandeur and splendour reigned supreme throughout the southeast. As Wang Anshi's lyric "Recollections of Jinling" attests — to the tune of "Osmanthus Branch":

Climbing high to gaze into the distance,

I find my old homeland in late autumn,

the air grown first chill and clear.

The river, bright and pure as silk,

the emerald peaks clustered close.

Departing sails and trailing oars

drift through the last light of the sun;

against the west wind, wine-shop banners lean aslant.

Painted boats drift upon pale clouds;

the River of Stars rises with the dew —

no painting could do justice to this scene.

I think of the luxury and striving of former days;

how bitter the sight of towers rearing above the gate

while grief and hatred followed without end.

Through a thousand ages men have climbed to these heights

and faced this view — only to sigh in vain at glory and disgrace.

The old affairs of the Six Dynasties have flowed away with the water,

and nothing remains but cold mist and fading grass, pooling in green.

Even now the singing girls

still from time to time

raise the old tune of "Courtyard Flowers."

When the founding emperor of the Ming dynasty came in his turn, he further expanded the realm, erected palaces and halls, and filled the city with a hundred offices and a thousand agencies, three broad thoroughfares and nine winding lanes. Every wonder of craftsmanship, every fashion of dress and ceremony, flower-girls and boy companions, fortune-tellers of every stripe — all gathered here like clouds and fish crowding together. Truly the splendour of the place was beyond all telling, the pleasures inexhaustible. Even after the capital was moved to Beijing, and the palaces had somewhat declined, the rivers and hills remained as they had always been, the scenery unchanged from yesterday, and the city was unlike any provincial town or county in the land.

When Yixiang arrived in the city, it delighted his eyes and gladdened his heart. He said to himself: "If I go at once to register at the Academy, I'll have to stay and study there and won't be able to enjoy myself freely. Better to find a lodging first and spend a few days in pleasure." So together with his two servants he went to the Peach-Leaf Ferry on the Qinhuai River and took a room in one of the riverside apartments. Riverside apartments in Nanjing are the dearest lodgings of all, and also the finest. To the west stands the Examination Hall; across the river lies the Pleasure Quarter. It is for this reason that men of gallant and easy spirit are willing to pay extra for them. He rested for a day, then went out the next day to enjoy the city. After roaming about for two or three days, he happened to pass through Military Merit Lane, strolled across the bridge, and stepped into the Pleasure Quarter, where he beheld:

Red towers like mountain peaks; green pavilions soaring to the clouds.

Curving balustrades and carved railings, planted with countless rare flowers and exotic plants;

Secluded chambers and deep rooms, set with many precious lutes and jade pipes.

The sound of music wound about the beams;

the breath of perfume assailed the nostrils.

With jade figures and flower-like faces, every woman

was a fairy maiden from a cave paradise;

with inkstones and poem-cases at hand, every one

might have passed for a scholar of letters.

The bright moon never failed — for this place was known as the Never-Night Sky;

and fragrance of powder always lingered — it had long been called the Soul-Ensnaring Ground.

Here were performed endless models of romance,

and here were captured many a young man of talent.

Yixiang had never before had any intention of patronising such establishments, but once inside and faced with this spectacle, he felt his heart stir. And indeed, there was an old saying about such places: "The only fear is that the clever man will not come; there is no fear that once he comes he will prove too clever." For this reason, no man who wandered in ever left empty-handed. Even the most miserly had to stay a few nights and spend dozens of taels before he could get out the door. Moreover, there was always a crowd of hangers-on to urge and coax him along, offering cold compliments and warm flattery, so that even the most mature and clear-sighted man would find it hard to simply walk away. Yixiang, being a man of gallant and free spirit who did not spare his money, quickly fixed his eye on two girls and threw himself entirely into the pursuit. Was there any of them who would not lavish attention upon him? After a few days he had his servants bring his baggage into the Quarter to live there. In such establishments, the patrons' servants had the serving-maids to keep them company at night. So his two servants were also quite content to enjoy themselves and stopped mentioning any serious business at all.

Master Yao transformed his desire for fame and profit into tender devotion to beauty. All the funds set aside for the Academy registration were spent on gifts and indulgences for his companions. Before long, half was already gone. He reckoned that since registering at the Academy was now out of the question, he might as well give himself over completely to pleasure. With the hangers-on around him day and night, playing and singing, rolling dice and pitching pots, he could not help but sink into a drunken stupor and spend without restraint. The contents of his purse dwindled away to nothing.

One day the hangers-on invited him to an excursion to Yuhua Terrace. With beauties on either side, music all around, and false warmth and eager attentiveness enveloping him — the true purpose being to drain his last resources and send this provincial on his way — he did not perceive the trap. He drank deeply and sang loudly, and in the spirit of the moment took up his brush and composed a poem to commemorate the pleasure:

This place where men once discoursed on the scriptures

is now a field of idle pleasures.

Mo Chou once moored her skiff here;

Xie Lingyun too stopped his carriage.

The river's colour divides and clarifies like white silk;

green mist flies from the treetops.

This has always been a place of beauty —

when one's heart is glad, can words be abandoned?

When he had finished writing, the assembled company praised him in one voice: "With such towering talent, why should the Dragon Gate of ten thousand feet hold any terrors?" Each raised a cup to congratulate him in advance of his success. Just as the party was at its most convivial, a man appeared — shabby cap, tattered clothes, haggard and ashen-faced — and came forward to bow before Yixiang and beg his charity. Yixiang took him for a beggar and paid no great heed, instructing his servants to give the man some food and wine. But the man touched neither the wine nor the food, and instead addressed Yixiang directly: "I am a graduate from Henan Province. On the road I was robbed; my funds are gone and my body is wounded. I cannot return home, and so I humbly seek a little assistance for travelling expenses — I do not ask for food and drink." Two of the hangers-on immediately cut in: "Master Yao, pay him no attention. There are many such people around here, and they all give the same story about being robbed — it's just a trick to get money from people. How can you tell whether it's true or false? How can you verify whether he is a graduate or not?" The man's face darkened with displeasure. "Because I was robbed and nearly killed," he said, "and feared I might perish in a foreign land, I have no choice but to seek help. Since common people suspect me, I have no intention of remaining here to beg further. But I am not of the sort who lies and cheats — if I cannot get assistance, so be it. Yet I cannot endure being branded with such a name, and I must at least establish that my story is not false." He then pulled aside his clothes to reveal them, and sure enough, the knife wounds had not healed, and blood-stains still marked the fabric.

Yixiang at once rose to his feet, bowed to the man, and apologised. He called for his travelling chest to be brought over, and upon looking inside found only ten taels of silver, one hempen robe, and one silk padded jacket. He gave all of it to the man, poured him a cup of wine and saw him off. The man wept with gratitude, bowed in thanks, asked for Yixiang's name and surname, and departed — but Yixiang asked nothing in return. In our time, men who give even the smallest assistance make a point of boasting of their benevolence. How much more extraordinary, then, to meet a stranger on the road, give him all that one has, and not even ask his name — this is truly to give without seeking any reward, and thus to forget what one has given, as though it never happened. In this one thing alone he surpasses the ordinary man; and yet there was something even greater than this to come.

At this moment Yixiang reflected: "My purse is empty, and there is no one likely to help me. If I stay on here, I may be badgered out of the place by the brothel-keeper — that would be undignified. Better to take my leave and go home; at least I won't be found out entirely." So he set down his cup, rose from the table, went back to the Quarter, collected his luggage and bedding, and prepared to take his leave at once. The two girls made every effort to detain him, and he spent one more night. The next morning he had his servants hire a boat and departed in haste. The two girls wept and sobbed, made vows and promises of fidelity — but this was all for the sake of money. Seeing that his money was spent, they were only too glad, by subtle means, to let him go. Yixiang, being a free and straightforward man, felt not the least attachment to either of them, and boarded the boat without hesitation. Within a few days he arrived home. His mother, hearing that her son had returned, was overjoyed — until she asked about the Academy registration. For a long while Yixiang did not dare speak. He had no choice but to confess the truth. His mother flew into a furious rage. Yixiang had always been the most dutiful of sons, obedient to his mother's commands with the utmost care. Though he had squandered four or five hundred taels on a whim and lost the money, this in itself did not trouble his heart greatly; but having defied his mother's instructions and spent his time in brothels — that weighed upon him deeply and filled him with regret beyond remedy. From that time on he did not dare venture abroad again.

After a year or two, realising that things could not remain as they were, he took advantage of what was near at hand and enrolled as a county clerk, seeking a modest position in government. You may ask, dear reader: could a man of such free and generous spirit possibly have any eye for the petty sordid money of a government office? He did not — his single concern was to relieve hardship and uphold righteousness, and he dealt with all people with warmth and generosity. Some in the office praised him for his loyalty and honesty; others regarded him as a simpleton. He gave this not the slightest thought, and let people say and laugh as they pleased.

Time passed swiftly. In the blink of an eye six or seven years had gone by, and his two terms were nearly fulfilled, so that by regulation he was due to go to the capital to render service. At that time, obedient to his mother's wishes, he spent three years in the capital without a single extravagance, and was selected for the post of Administrative Secretary in Jiujiang Prefecture of Jiangxi Province.

He had not been long in his post when the position of Superintendent of the Prefecture Prison fell vacant, and his superiors assigned him to manage it concurrently. He applied himself with full diligence and care — providing for the welfare of all the prisoners, showing no harshness even toward those held briefly for minor offences. He personally visited even those condemned to the heaviest sentences in their cells, cleaning what was filthy, treating those who fell ill, clothing and feeding those who were cold and hungry. Every man felt gratitude and gave thanks. As for those who had been framed and falsely accused, or who had been subjected to unjust treatment by superiors, or beaten into false confessions — Yixiang examined each case with care, and wherever he saw an opportunity to speak on someone's behalf, he was willing to do so. He bitterly regretted his own low rank and small authority, knowing full well that injustices existed which he could not remedy; this was a constant source of shame to him. Thus in the rooms of his office all was as clear as water; he ate simple vegetarian food and wore plain cloth, living with the utmost frugality. He once wrote a small poem on the wall of his chamber:

The ways of the world are not those of pure antiquity;

men no longer observe the custom of self-imposed limits.

When shall we see punishments laid aside,

so that the stocks in the city square stand empty?

The poem speaks his mind. Reading its sentiment alongside Shao Yaoji's wish that Heaven might always bring forth good people and that people might always perform good deeds — the two are very much alike, and one can understand the cast of his daily thoughts.

Half a year later, a new Provincial Inspector arrived to take up his post. Officials great and small all had to go and pay their respects. Yixiang too had no choice but to follow along in the queue and make a few appearances. Naturally, in such an august office as the Provincial Censor's yamen, junior officials like himself had no standing to speak. But such was the protocol, and it could not be avoided. He went three days in a row, completed his formal presentations, and all the officials filed out. Yixiang had already turned to go when a voice from inside called out his name. Not knowing why he had been summoned, he felt a jolt of alarm — but then reasoned with himself: "I have served here without committing any unlawful or improper act, and have never taken a single coin that was unlawful or improper. There can be nothing against me — why should I fear going in?" So he went in quickly to present himself. The Inspector asked: "Are you Yao Yixiang of Shanghai?" "That is indeed this junior official," he replied. "How long have you been in your current post?" "Ten months." "And how long have you been managing the Prison Superintendent's office?" "Just five months." Then the Inspector said: "You are a man of gallant and free spirit — how did you come to hold such a minor post?" At these words Yixiang's heart was filled with confusion, and he could only force himself to reply: "I would not presume to say otherwise." The Inspector continued: "On a certain year, month, and day, was it you who was drinking wine and carousing with courtesans at Yuhua Terrace in Nanjing?" At these words Yixiang was completely at a loss — his heart thumped, he was thrown into a panic, as though a basin of cold water had been poured over his head; he shook and trembled without stopping. At once he removed his gauze cap and knocked his head against the ground like a pestle in a mortar, saying over and over: "Death deserves me, death deserves me — I beg Your Excellency's pardon." The Inspector laughed: "Do not be alarmed. Let me ask you — at the time on Yuhua Terrace, there was a graduate who had been robbed and reduced to destitution, who came to you for help, and you gave him clothing and silver. Did this happen?" Yixiang's heart grew steadier at once, and he immediately replied: "It did." "Do you still recognise that man?" "We met briefly once, and it was long ago — I cannot call him to mind." "Did you ever learn his name?" "I gave the assistance on a moment's impulse and never thought to ask his name." "I am that man," said the Inspector. He then called out: "Rise and exchange bows," and had the attendants close the doors.

Only then did Yixiang's heart settle fully. He stood up, exchanged bows, and stood to one side. By the protocol of a Provincial Inspector's office, lesser officials of the Three Departments, as well as prefecture clerks, county deputies, and the like, were never offered tea as a matter of course; if tea was offered as a special mark of distinction, they still stood to drink it. So although Yixiang had once shown great kindness to the Inspector, he stood and drank his tea. When the tea was done, the Inspector said: "After receiving your help, I was able to return home, and fortunately gained my degree. I have long sought to repay your kindness but have never found the opportunity. Now, by Heaven's grace, we have met in this fortunate place. Yet the distance between our ranks is vast and protocol most strict, making frequent personal contact and direct recompense impossible. You have a heart for helping people and doing good, and being in your position must know the details of the prison cases very well. If there are any among them who are truly wrongly imprisoned and whose situations call for compassion, write me a list. If a man can raise a thousand taels, I will see to his release — consider this my way of repaying your kindness."

Yixiang received this commission, thanked the Inspector for the tea, and departed. As he passed through the yamen gates he could see people craning their necks to find out what had caused the Inspector to offer him tea; and the clerks who reported daily news to the various departments, prefectures, and counties immediately spread word of the event. Prefectural and county officials sent visiting cards; others sent gifts. Were they showing deference to the Prison Superintendent? Entirely not — they were paying court to the Inspector's acquaintance.

When Yixiang returned to his office he was in excellent spirits, and at once summoned the office clerks and relayed to them, word for word, what the Inspector had said. The clerks all congratulated him: "Congratulations, Your Honour — here is a great windfall!" Yixiang laughed and said: "You foolish men! If I wanted money in that way, why have I not been gathering a few coins every single day? My only regret has been that, because of my low rank and small authority, I could not right the wrongs I saw. Now, fortunately, the superior official has made this generous offer, and I can use this wind to fan my own flame and fulfil the wish I have long carried. Is it for the money that I rejoice? If money were my aim, those with no money to offer would never get out." The clerks, while praising him aloud, inwardly laughed, thinking: "Has there ever been a man who doesn't want money? This is just fine-sounding talk in front of others. Wait until he acts, and we'll see clearly enough." Then one said: "Since Your Honour says you don't want money, how many truly unjust cases does Your Honour know of in the prison?" Yixiang replied: "From the day I took over this office, I have kept this purpose in mind, and I have been asking and inquiring all along. There are seven men in the prison who are truly innocent." He then named all seven, with their circumstances. "Now," he said, "you may draw up the documents for each case in detail, compile the files, and proceed with their release. I myself will not take a single coin. Among them there are three or four men from wealthy families who can afford to pay — you may tell them to contribute ten or twenty taels each; that would not be unreasonable."

The prison clerks went at once to the cells and told all seven men. The seven were profoundly grateful; they immediately sent word home, and money was scraped together and handed to the clerks. But the clerks then plotted among themselves: "Even though the magistrate says he wants no silver, can he really mean it? Besides, he already knows that three or four of them are wealthy; and the Inspector himself said he wanted a thousand taels per man. We might as well ask these men to pool two or three thousand taels and hold it here before presenting the documents. If he truly doesn't want it, he'll certainly send the documents up at once; if he's only pretending, he'll delay for a day or two, and then we can slip it in to him." They reached this agreement, and the money was duly assembled. After a few days, the case documents were prepared, and the clerks presented them to Yixiang. He looked them over, picked up the file, and immediately went to see the Inspector.

At that point the clerks finally knew he was telling the truth about the money — and everyone exclaimed in admiration.

When he arrived at the Inspector's yamen and was ushered in, the reception this time was nothing like the formal occasion before. As Yixiang entered, the Inspector had the doors closed. Yixiang presented the dossier and reported: "In my daily observation of the prison, I found seven men among those condemned to severe punishment who are truly wrongly imprisoned. By Your Excellency's gracious instruction, I have presumed to compile this list, and I humbly beg Your Excellency to open the gates of Heaven and Earth in mercy." The Inspector looked over the documents and then asked: "Have you received any payment?" Yixiang replied: "The day of release has been agreed upon, and the seven men together have promised to thank the Administrative Secretary with seven thousand taels of silver." The Inspector said: "If that is so, it is ample to repay your virtue. Take this silver home, care for your mother in her old age, and live at leisure among rivers and hills — why bow your waist for a few pecks of millet?" Yixiang received this instruction and withdrew. The Inspector immediately approved the documents, and the seven men were at once released from prison. The families of the seven — old and young alike — burned incense and kowtowed, came on their knees with tears streaming to the yamen to give thanks; this need not be described in detail.

But what is remarkable is this: Yixiang had told the Inspector he had received seven thousand taels, when in fact he had not taken a single coin. If any other man had received some silver for clearing someone's name, that would not have been excessive. Or if he had taken money from the wealthy and left the poor to their appeals without payment — that too would have made him a virtuous gentleman. The next level above that would be to take no silver but truthfully inform his superior, so that his sincerity in redressing injustice might be plainly seen — an act even harder to match. But Yixiang took no silver at all, yet said he had received seven thousand — who in the world would willingly claim an empty name and forfeit real profit? To right others' wrongs, yet not profit from their wealth; not to seek his own praise or solicit the superior's commendation — does this not bespeak the heart of a great saint, a great bodhisattva? I fear such men are rarely seen in all of history.

The next day Yixiang submitted a memorial requesting retirement. The Inspector, thinking he had truly received seven thousand taels of silver, approved the memorial at once. Yixiang resigned his post and returned home, and the news stirred the entire city. Officials of the circuits, departments, prefectures, and counties all expressed admiration: "A minor official of such small rank — able to refuse all bribes, redress grievances and right wrongs — truly surpasses even the highest legal authorities." They all sent generous gifts and marks of respect to see him home. The seven men, together with the friends they had gathered from their clans, submitted a formal petition to the Three Courts, setting forth how he had redressed the unjust imprisonments without accepting a single coin, and declaring that his noble virtue and clean conduct merited acknowledgment in the Temple of Meritorious Officials.

When the Inspector had approved Yixiang's retirement, he had assumed Yixiang had truly received seven thousand taels and was satisfied to go home on that. But on seeing the public petition from the Three Academies, he learned for the first time that Yixiang had received no silver at all — that his release of the prisoners had been from pure and sincere intent. He was greatly astonished: "Such a good man — there is truly none other like him! But I originally intended to repay him, and told him to go home. Instead I have inadvertently cut off his career." He immediately approved the petition and had Yixiang's name entered in the Temple of Meritorious Officials.

Dear reader, how many Administrative Secretaries have ever been entered in the Temple of Meritorious Officials? This in itself was already the reward for virtue. But when Yixiang returned home, his sleeves were as clean as the wind — empty of all gains. His grandson had entered school, but the family circumstances were in decline. His household, great and small, grumbled at him for lacking good sense: he had neither earned any silver nor preserved his modest little office — was this not a losing business? Yixiang remained perfectly content.

He lived past ninety. One day he suddenly dreamed that five or six men in blue clothes and small caps came and knelt before him, reporting: "We have come to escort Your Honour." In the dream, Yixiang recognised them as those condemned men he had once saved from death. He asked: "Why have you come here?" They replied: "Each of our seven families sent their ancestors to petition before the Jade Emperor. The Emperor commanded the True Lord of Destiny to add years to Your Honour's lifespan, and furthermore decreed that Your Honour's descendants shall enjoy eminence in every generation. Now that Your Honour's allotted years are drawing to a close, we have come to attend on Your Honour. Outside stands a palanquin — please take your seat and come." Yixiang heard this, stepped into the palanquin, and was carried to the gate of a great official compound, where they set him down. The doorkeeper went in to announce him. From inside, an official came out to welcome him. Yixiang looked carefully and saw that the official was not dressed in the fashion of a court officer — he wore a crown with pendant jade pendants and a robe embroidered with dragons. Only then did Yixiang understand: "This is the King of Hell." The King of Hell exchanged a bow with Yixiang, and together they walked up to the main hall, where a distinguished personage was already seated. The King of Hell gestured for Yixiang to take a seat above this personage. Yixiang declined and refused to sit there. The King said: "Have you heard of the story of the official Huang being seated above the great Fan Zhongyan? In this place, we rank by virtue, not by official position." So Yixiang took the upper seat. The King of Hell said: "You have hidden virtue to your name. Yesterday a celestial edict arrived, calling you to serve as Arbiter of Punishments on Mount Tai. Please return home and set your affairs in order. Before long you shall be received in state." He then saw Yixiang out. The bearers carried him back as before. Yixiang stretched and yawned and woke — it was all a dream of Nanke.

The next morning he rose and told his household: "I dreamed a dream last night and shall soon die. But you have always blamed me for not knowing how to manage the household. Last night in my dream I saw the men I had saved from unjust imprisonment come to fetch me. They said they had petitioned the Jade Emperor, and he had decreed that my descendants would attain eminence." He pointed to one of his grandsons and said: "May it not be this child who will restore our family's fortunes? You need not worry about poverty." He then described the dream in detail, and added: "The King of Hell told me that a welcome would come before long, which means my end is near. Please prepare hot water so that I may bathe and wait." The family did as he said. When the bath was done he spoke again: "Those who come to welcome me are already at the gate." The whole family smelled a strange fragrance filling every room, and in a moment he had passed away.

His grandson, Yongji, passed the imperial examination in the Wanli wuxu year and later rose to the post of Left Commissioner of Zhejiang, from which he retired to his home. His descendants and their descendants all possessed great virtue and upheld the family's achievements; the succession of caps and belts has not yet come to an end. The pledge made by the seven men before the Jade Emperor was fulfilled to the last detail, without the slightest deviation. Virtue practised in secret is rewarded in the open — this is borne out with complete certainty. Let those gentlemen who hold power ask themselves: can they fail to spread good deeds far and wide, and leave a sound legacy for their descendants?

A poem:

It is said that accumulated virtue surpasses even a pagoda,

yet the merit of building a pagoda cannot be written to the end.

Though a pagoda's tiers number forty-nine,

accumulated good works merit a hundred thousand more.

Rightly is it said: he who stores up grain bequeaths it to his sons;

and who could fail to build high gates and raise his spears of honour?

A word to all those of influence and power who walk the way:

better to exchange the red brush for a robe with pendants.