Chapter Four: A Virtuous Maiden Upholds Her Pledge and Wins Eternal Honor; A Foolish Lad Covets Her Beauty and Brings Ruin Upon Himself

Wealth and rank are light as goose-down; a sworn word shall not be bent.

To guard one's chastity, to hold the moon's record, to brave hardship, firm as ice — such is true constancy.

Among women in their chambers, the licentious man must bow his head in shame.

This tale of a raven's head grown grey before its time — I set it down with my frost-white brush.

When Kong Rong sheltered Zhang Jian the fugitive and the affair came to light, brothers and mother each strove to die in the other's stead. The loyalty and heroism of that household have been celebrated through the ages. Yet in later times there have been those who craved power and feared the mighty, who knew nothing of the bonds of duty and righteousness — fathers and sons at odds, brothers at cross purposes. How much more remarkable, then, when among merchants and common women, upright integrity emerged from a single household, even though the deeds were suppressed by force and passed into silence. It is precisely because I could not bear that silence that I now set this account down.

I have heard of a woman whose husband died and who refused to remarry. She kept a portrait of her late husband beside her pillow and gazed upon it day and night. Certain knowing persons remarked that she did not so much love her husband as love his face — and that one with a finer face might yet steal her heart. One such person had a favourite catamite whose looks surpassed the dead husband's; he had the young man's likeness painted and sent it to the widow by way of an old serving-woman. True enough — the widow gathered her belongings and decamped with the young man, who had moored his boat waiting for her. They spent three nights together, whereupon the original husband who had purchased her appeared — a burly, middle-aged fellow with a curling beard. The catamite made way, and the widow returned to this man. When the first husband's family sued her for theft and seduction, the man promptly handed her over to a powerful nobleman to quash the lawsuit. She had thus passed through four husbands. Such a woman is not worth discussing further.

In Wujiang there was a woman, a wealthy widow. A kinsman on her father's side, coveting her fortune, tricked her into marrying a local magnate. She broke free and appealed to the county authorities; when the county refused to do her justice, she cut her own throat before the regional inspector. In Chu, another woman was accomplished in letters and had often written examination essays on her husband's behalf. A certain nobleman in the same literary society learned of this, and poisoned her husband, then arranged the funeral with lavish generosity, so that the widow never suspected. When he attempted by every means to make her his concubine — threatening her with his power and position — she at last grew suspicious of the circumstances of her husband's death, and said: "It is my talent and beauty that have killed my husband. How could I then take his murderer as my master?" And she killed herself. These two women may rightly be called heroines. But in Zhejiang there arose a young woman who kept faith with a betrothal not yet sealed in marriage, and chose death as her companion rather than break that pledge — a woman who commands even greater reverence and awe. As it has been said:

Once a word is given, what need is there to die for it?

Yet dying to keep it — how magnificent, how exemplary a person.

This young woman's surname was Cheng. Her family lived outside the city walls of Kaihua County in Quzhou Prefecture; their ancestral home was in Wuyuan. Her father, old Cheng, was a timber merchant who regularly made appraisals and purchases of lumber in the prefectures of Qu and Chu, trading throughout Zhejiang and the Southern Metropolitan Region, and had therefore settled in Kaihua. His wife, née Wu, also came from a great family of Xin'an. They had one son, named Cheng Shi, and their daughter, born in the ninth month, was called Juyingju — Chrysanthemum Blossom. Old Cheng was a man of solid character, unwavering in his word. If he agreed to meet someone at the hour of si, he would never delay until wu; if he promised a man a hundred taels, he would never pay ninety-nine. Moreover, though he counted himself a mere merchant without deep learning, he greatly admired the learned, and kept a collection of books and paintings in his home. From an early age his children were sent to study with a teacher, so Juying came to know her letters, to read and to write. As she grew, she was further taught embroidery and all the feminine arts of the needle. It was plain to all that she possessed not only radiant beauty — white teeth, jade frame, willowy grace and elegant manner — but also talent and refinement of the first order. Old Cheng and his wife often said: "Our daughter is not destined to be the wife of a common man."

Born with a nature that defies the frost, she blooms with an ancient fragrance.

She should walk among orchids as companions — what business have brambles and thorns near her?

The Chengs had already taken a daughter of a scholarly family as wife for Cheng Shi, and now sought a man of learning as husband for their daughter.

In the same township lived a certain Zhang Xiucai whose son, Zhang Guozhen, had refined features, composed bearing, great intelligence, and a deep love of study. The family, however, was extremely poor. Old Cheng saw the young man's character, made enquiries about his abilities, and wished to give his daughter to him. But Zhang Xiucai earnestly declined, saying: "Nowadays men seek wives from wealthy families in hopes of a rich dowry and the convenience of having well-off in-laws. Such women, however, trade on their family's wealth to look down on their husbands and treat their parents-in-law with contempt. Moreover, they are unaccustomed to hardship and extravagant in dress and food. If I try to meet her expectations and cannot, or fail to meet them, she will never be content at home. Best not to reach for what is above me."

Pines and cypresses aspire to the clouds; the dodder vine is brief and low.

The vine winds about its support — the fear is that it snap midway.

Old Cheng replied: "That very speech shows the quality of the man. My daughter has always known books and propriety — she is nothing like the daughters of wealthy houses. Whatever the bride-price, I am determined to give her to him." They were on the verge of completing the formalities when a great household from Qingyang entered the picture. This family, surnamed Xu, owned fields stretching as far as the eye could see, enjoyed association with the local gentry, and had a single son named Xu Dengdi. Spoiled by doting parents who counted themselves men of wealth, the boy had been sent to study with a teacher but was not permitted to read a line or write a single character. By the age of thirteen or fourteen he was completely illiterate. He was pushed from one school to another, enrolled as a licensed student — but every essay, every lecture, every composition that bore his name was the work of another hand. His teacher, content to pocket the gift of a silk kerchief, gave no thought to what might come. Xu Dengdi's sole accomplishment was a certain swagger on the stairs. The moment he opened his mouth, vulgarity poured out. Other people knew how to conceal their shortcomings; he did not. Phrases from the classics tumbled from his lips at random; others blushed on his behalf — he himself felt no shame. By fifteen or sixteen he was to be found in brothels and gaming houses without fail. Before examinations his family bribed examiners; his teacher bribed examination brokers. Money flowed in all directions, in amounts too large to count. When he still failed, he would say with great bravado: "The old Education Intendant didn't know how to read my new style of composition — the next, corrupt one couldn't recognize my true literary gifts." He refused to give up his posturing and pretension. Truly:

His belly is black as lacquer — and yet it is not ink.

His face is mottled and spotted — and yet it is not writing.

He was the champion of brothel and gambling den, an unranked champion of the ranked examinations. Old Xu said: "A fine son like mine needs an exceptionally accomplished and beautiful wife." He sent inquiries near and far, seeking eligible daughters. One search led him to the Cheng family. He learned that a teacher and an embroidery mistress had both been retained — which meant the girl could write, embroider, and sew. He sent a matchmaker disguised among the women who called on the family, and all who saw Juying agreed she was a national beauty. He sent a formal proposal. Old Cheng refused. Xu senior persisted: "If they consent, I will pay five hundred taels as betrothal gift, and the trousseau shall be whatever they wish." Old Cheng said: "I am not selling my daughter." He declined again. Old Cheng went ahead and betrothed Juying to Zhang Guozhen with appropriate though modest gifts.

The phoenix pairs with the phoenix; the orchid is befriended by angelica.

Look at those reeds aspiring to lean against white jade — how contemptible.

Old Xu, furious at being repeatedly refused by Old Cheng, said: "I'll find someone with real influence — then let's see if he dares refuse." He had cultivated a retired local official surnamed Wang, a successful provincial examination graduate who had served as county magistrate and had previously enjoyed the patronage of the provincial governor and surveillance commissioners. That connection had now been revived. Xu formally invited Wang to act as his matchmaker, presenting him with four bolts of patterned silk, a silver wine vessel, and twelve taels in lieu of a banquet. Wang did not decline, accepted everything, and set a date to call on Old Cheng.

He arrived in an official hat with its gaudy insignia and scarlet-faced robe, a ceremonial parasol spread above him, to pay his visit. Old Cheng was alarmed at the sight. Host and guest were seated, and Wang immediately raised the matter of the marriage. Old Cheng said: "My daughter has already accepted the Zhang family's betrothal." Wang said: "That is absurd. If she had already accepted their betrothal, why would the Xu household have asked me to come? The matchmaking must pass through my hands." Old Cheng said: "She truly is betrothed; the formal letter is here." He had it brought out. Wang examined it and said: "How cheaply you have sold her, old man! This doesn't count as a real betrothal. I guarantee you five hundred taels, and the trousseau is yours to determine." Old Cheng said: "To treat marriage as a financial transaction is the way of birds and beasts. The matter is settled; words given cannot be changed." Wang said: "What is so hard to change? A poor examination candidate — add something to it and return it to him, and he'll jump at the chance. Then set something aside for the Xu household, and you'll still have four hundred taels left over. They're coming to you — you can afford to take a little less. Take me: when I was lucky enough to hold office, I arranged marriages for three daughters — all to nephews and sons-in-law. Each one was valued at three hundred taels, yet I never spent more than a hundred on any of them. And the interest I avoided paying doesn't bear reckoning. Don't be so rigid, old man." Old Cheng would not hear of it, and Wang rose and left in frustration.

In vain the old man under the moon laboured; the spring ice would not thaw.

Though the matchmaker was skilled at uniting, no force could move this stone.

Back at the Xu estate, father and son waited confidently, sure that Wang's visit could not fail to produce results. Then a servant announced Wang's return. Wang came in — without the parasol, without his official robes — and said: "I've been a provincial graduate and local official for forty years, and I've put in I don't know how many words of recommendation without ever meeting a man this stubborn." Old Xu asked: "He still refused?" Wang said: "Still refused. There are plenty of fine women in the world. Let me look elsewhere." He started to rise. Father and son grabbed him and begged him to stay. Wang said: "I can't accept a stipend without earning it." After sitting down again, Wang pointed at Xu Dengdi and said: "A man of such striking gifts as your son — he could even be chosen as an imperial son-in-law. It is a pity I have no ninth daughter to offer." Old Xu said: "Father and son that we are — dull and stupid — we rightly deserve to be refused. But your Excellency's golden words should not go unheeded. Our household has some small standing. To go about asking a man of your Excellency's stature to arrange a match and fail — we will become a laughingstock. We beg you to take charge of this matter."

Wang said: "I have no particular plans. Present me with a problem and I will solve it."

Fair looks have long been the root of calamity — the ancients knew it and mourned.

One fears only that beauty, like arching brows, may brew a quarrel between sparrows.

Old Xu said: "I hear the county magistrate is very much under your Excellency's influence. Private persuasion having failed, let us contest it in court." Wang said: "File a lawsuit, you mean?" Old Xu said: "Exactly. My student will sue for the Cheng family reneging on a betrothal and Zhang's forcible engagement. I beg your Excellency to put in a word and have the magistrate render a clear verdict." Wang said: "My student enjoys the favour of the provincial authorities and will not lend his name to petty lawsuits. This is a small matter of matrimony — old Xu had better seek another intermediary." Xu Dengdi said: "This is a matter of pride, not money. I only want it settled. Even a hundred taels — my father won't have to pay it, I will." Wang said: "Don't stir up the mob of broken-boot students. Simply sue the Cheng family for reneging on the betrothal and making a clandestine engagement." So the Xu family filed the lawsuit, and Wang's hundred taels guaranteed the whole affair. The magistrate accepted the case. Runners were first sent to the Cheng household; Old Cheng, not knowing what it was about, was told it was the Xu family suing for broken betrothal — enough to make one's blood boil. Old Cheng could only set out wine and receive the runners; they demanded sixty taels before they would go, threatening otherwise to summon his daughter to appear in court. Old Cheng had no choice and paid them off over two instalments, spending as much as twenty taels in total.

Sparrows can peck through rooftops; fox-power habitually seizes gold.

Misfortune arrives on wings — one may sit still and yet not be spared.

At the hearing, Zhang Xiucai had asked several friends to speak on his behalf. The magistrate, having already received Wang's instructions, said: "My friend, you are ignorant of the true facts. I will simply recover the betrothal gifts for you." Zhang said again: "The Xu family never formally betrothed her — they are forcing a marriage." The magistrate said: "Don't concern yourself with that matter — just see to it that you don't lose out." At the hearing, old Xu produced from nowhere a torn piece of garment, claiming: "Years ago this man and I were both merchants, and with both our wives with child, we tore this garment as a pledge. When my son was born male and his daughter female, I sent a pair of gold bracelets, two pearl ornaments, and forty taels of silver as acknowledgement. His wife later objected to the distance between our counties and clandestinely gave her away to the Zhang family." Old Cheng was called forward: "I never had dealings with Xu at all. How could there be any torn garment? I never received any gold bracelets, pearl ornaments, or silver." The magistrate said: "Are there no circumstances in this world that could account for such a tale?" The witness Old Xu produced was an out-and-out scoundrel he had purchased: "I was a broker. Seventeen years ago they were both timber merchants lodging at my premises. I don't know what they discussed over wine — they tore a garment and named me as matchmaker. What gifts were sent I heard of but did not see. For ten years neither came to my house. Three years ago Xu asked me to approach Cheng about a formal ceremony. Cheng said the distance was too great and proposed they take up residence with him. Xu, having only this one son, refused, and things were delayed. The girl was then betrothed to Zhang Xiucai — I knew nothing of it." The magistrate pointed at Old Cheng: "You treacherous schemer! You clearly reneged on a prior commitment and entered a second betrothal." Old Cheng said: "I never went to Qingyang for business at all, and I never had dealings with such a broker or named him as matchmaker. All of it is fabricated testimony from a paid thug." The thug said: "When I came to discuss the match, you kept me for wine. I spoke of the match and you said you needed to consult your wife — I came back time after time. How can you say you don't know me?"

Lies are invented to deceive even Heaven;

falsehood clothes itself in plausibility.

Even were Su Qin and Zhang Yi reborn,

they would be left without a word to say.

The magistrate, in a great rage, threatened flogging and the press; the runners were dispatched to escort Old Cheng out, the betrothal gifts he had given were to be reclaimed, and the Xu family was to proceed with the marriage ceremony and report back. Outside the yamen, the runners went to the Cheng house and fetched Zhang Xiucai. Fearing that the family would suffer on his account, Zhang was actually inclined to comply. Old Cheng said: "This is outrageous!" and would not release the gifts. When the Xu family sent their betrothal gifts in, Old Cheng flung them back out. This went on for a day and more with no resolution. The Xu family threatened to report again to the magistrate; the runners grew anxious, and laid hands on Old Cheng, saying: "A man who defies the authorities like this — I'll drag you before the magistrate for a flogging of several tens of strokes, and then this marriage will be settled." They shoved and pulled at him. Old Cheng, overcome with anger, had a rush of phlegm to the throat and fell to the ground. His wife and daughter-in-law rushed out from inside, pouring hot water and fanning him. Old Cheng managed to force out two sentences: "My daughter is unfortunate, coerced by a powerful family. When I am dead, my son must hold firm to my words. I shall close my eyes in peace beneath the Yellow Springs." With that, the phlegm surged again, and in a moment he had breathed his last.

A promise held through life and death, kept unchanged even by both parties —

how it shames to contemplate those who sway with every wind.

The household broke into weeping. The county runners, fearing a case of wrongful death, fled like the wind.

The Cheng family smashed and threw out every gift-box and tray the Xu family had sent. They sent word to the Zhang family to come and take the bride away before the mourning period had formally opened. Zhang Xiucai was afraid of the magistrate's wrath and dared not come. The Cheng family made their own arrangements for the laying out and the mourning — no more need be said of that. The Xu family declared: "In for a penny, in for a pound. Now that Old Cheng is dead and his son is young and weak, I'll sue him first for reneging on the betrothal. If he sues back over the death, we can stall." They were determined to have Wang see it through to the end, and sent him ten taels for traveling expenses. Wang, passing himself off as a nephew, went to the provincial authorities to file a complaint. The Governor and Surveillance Commissioner endorsed: "To repudiate a betrothal and defy the official — a flagrant disregard for law and order. The county is hereby instructed to investigate and settle the matter promptly, and to submit a report of the wedding date." The county magistrate had already heard of Wang's journey to the provincial capital and was anxious; when he saw the official endorsement, he immediately sent runners to arrest Cheng Shi. Cheng Shi stepped forward himself. His mother urged him: "Son, you must not change a single word of what your father said." Cheng Shi said: "Father's bones are not yet cold — how could I bear to disobey his dying command?" His wife added: "This must be contested to the death — there can be no wavering."

Both hearts share the same righteousness, pledged to keep the marriage compact inviolate.

In the exchange of words of counsel, the old way can still be found.

Cheng Shi came before the magistrate. The magistrate said: "The higher authorities have set a date for the Xu marriage, and you must not disobey." Cheng Shi said: "My father truly never promised her to him and never received any betrothal gifts." The magistrate said: "Listen to you, still talking nonsense! Turning down a wealthy family to marry a penniless scholar — did the world ever see such a fool? Even with me as matchmaker and the Governor as chief sponsor, the arrangement could not be more proper. If you persist in resisting, I'll send you to the Governor, and you and your whole family will be ground to dust." Cheng Shi said: "Life and death are in Heaven's hands. But to destroy conduct and extinguish integrity — that this humble man will never do. You, my lord, govern the common people; it is your duty to set customs right and uphold the moral order. How can you order your people to do such a thing?" The magistrate was furious: "This stupid slave dares lecture me!" He ordered thirty strokes of the rod; blood flowed freely. He then commanded the Xu family's betrothal gifts to be presented and formally accepted then and there. Cheng Shi cried out: "My lord! You may kill me, but I will not accept these gifts, and my sister will not marry him!" The magistrate said: "You insufferable wretch!" He ordered forty slaps across the face. Cheng Shi refused to yield. The magistrate thought again: am I not the fool here? The Governor wants a wedding date — I need only get the wedding done; what does it matter whether he accepts the gifts or not? He had Cheng Shi held in custody, drew two signature tokens, dispatched four yamen guards, and ordered Cheng Juying to appear in court immediately.

The matchmaker burdens the magistrate; the go-between sends yamen guards.

A single official document — used as a warrant to seize a bride.

The runners arrived at the house. Mistress Wu hurried to her daughter's room and said: "What are we to do? You must not forget your father's dying words!" Juying said: "Mother, I have a plan — do not worry. It is not difficult for me to die and so repay both parents. I will never surrender my person to these violent men." Calmly she combed her hair and washed her face, then opened her chest and changed into fresh, bright clothing. Outside, the four guards clamoured like thunder; Juying paid them no mind. She sewed her inner garments shut and tied her outer sashes fast and firm. Her mother said: "You must wear dark blue before the magistrate." She put on a blue outer robe. At her writing desk she ground ink, took a sheet of paper, wrote several characters on it, and folded it into her sleeve. She went to the spirit tablet of her father and wept her farewell to his coffin. She bowed to her mother, who was weeping too bitterly to speak. She turned to her sister-in-law and said: "I have brought trouble on my brother and on you as well. I am unfortunate that I cannot continue to serve you, sister — such is fate. The Odes say: 'Do we not work from dawn to dark? We dread the many dews upon the path.' I cannot bear to save one morning's life and leave a thousand ages of reproach. Our mother is old; I beg you to care for her well." Her sister-in-law wept: "The care of our mother rests with me; the fulfilment of our father's last words rests with you." Juying walked to the sedan chair. The guards, privately exchanging glances, marvelled: "What a woman! No wonder the Xu family wanted her." The procession set off in a crowd, heading for the county yamen.

Clever schemes probe the black dragon's lair; cunning plans peel open the oyster's shell.

Walking in the clear light, blazing as the midday sun — to seize the night pearl within.

Meanwhile the Xu household, hearing that the girl had been brought out, confidently expected the magistrate would hand her over in open court. They sent word home to prepare a banquet, invited kinsmen and neighbours, hired musicians. Xu Dengdi washed his head and face, changed into his finest clothes, ready to play the bridegroom. He could not wait for the chair-bearers to carry her straight to the yamen so the magistrate could send her to his house forthwith. He stretched his neck and craned for a look, drawing laughter all around. The hour was near noon, the weather bright and clear. Inside the chair, Juying asked one of the bearers: "How many more li to the yamen?" The bearers all laughed: "Sounds like she can't wait to get there!" The bearers began to exchange banter: "A few days ago I carried a bride who wept the whole way, weeping so bitterly I couldn't bear it. I said, 'Miss, shall I carry you back?' She stopped weeping and answered: 'You carry on carrying; I'll cry on crying.'" Then the bearer at the back said: "I once carried a bride and halfway through, the floor of the sedan chair, being old, gave way. There was no knowing what to do — someone said to rope it, someone said to fetch a blacksmith for nails, a carpenter for repairs — all afraid of missing the auspicious hour. Then the bride said: 'Never mind. You carry the frame from outside; I'll walk along inside.'" They went on laughing and joking amongst themselves. Little did they know:

The goose mates but once; the bustard wallows in lust.

Chastity and licentiousness are different natures — who can see into another's heart?

In the midst of their banter, a sudden gust of wind darkened the sky and blotted out the sun; sand flew and stones rolled; one could not see the face of the person before one. The procession had no choice but to set the chair down under the eaves of a house and shelter from the wind. It lasted nearly half an hour. This seemed to be:

Rain falling — heaven weeping; thunder sounding — earth in mourning.

All the holy ones of the Western Paradise, escorting this female bodhisattva on her journey.

Xu Dengdi, frantic to claim his new bride, had used his money to instruct the yamen guards not to make a disturbance. The crowd before the yamen was like a mountain, like the sea, come to witness this remarkable event. When the procession arrived, one guard ran ahead to announce: "Cheng Juying has been brought." The others called to the woman to come out of the chair. No response. The guards shouted: "His Honour is waiting in court — what are you doing taking your time!" They lifted the curtain — and received a shock. At some point that no one had noticed, the woman had hanged herself inside the sedan chair. Her colour was as if living; her breath was gone.

Solemn, the pledge, never to be divided — the dying command, earnest and repeated.

How could she grudge the briefness of death? To spare herself would shame her aged parent.

The guards ran back into the yamen to report to the magistrate: "Cheng Juying has arrived." He ordered her brought in, and that no one was to startle her. The guard said: "She is dead." The magistrate said: "Nonsense! If she had arrived she would not be dead — and if she were dead, how could she have arrived? Speak plainly!" The guard said: "When she left home and got into the chair, she was fully alive. When we called her out of the chair, she was already dead." The magistrate said: "She must be a timid young girl whom you frightened out of her wits. Go quickly and revive her." The guard said: "She has been hanged for some time — she cannot be revived." The magistrate stamped his foot: "I lost my nerve and failed to protect her — and so I have destroyed this woman. Quickly release Cheng Shi from prison; have him receive the body and see to the burial." He drafted the memorial to report upward to the Governor. When Cheng Shi was released, he looked upon his sister's remains and beat his breast in weeping: "Dear sister, dear sister! A woman of such purity and heroism — I would gladly die for you and not count it wasted!"

Righteousness weighs heavier than hills and mounds; to forget the self is to accept the enmity of enemies.

Gladly she chose to be jade shattered rather than tile preserved; how it shames the flowers in their supple grace.

Her life followed the breaking thread; her name endures through the strokes of a gifted brush.

On the banks of the E River there are saintly women — may she be permitted to walk among them in their pure serenity.

Among those idly watching before the yamen there were several who could not contain their sense of injustice: "The Xu family has hounded a virtuous woman to her death!" They wanted to search out father and son and punish them. Every last member of the Xu household disappeared without a trace. The crowd raised a clamour; the magistrate, hearing it, had the drum beaten to clear the court and withdrew. By local custom, a corpse that died away from home was called a "cold corpse" and not brought back inside the house; but Cheng Shi said: "She is a woman of honour and no disgrace to our family," and carried her home. Mother and sister-in-law rushed to hold the body and wept bitterly; they untied the cloth she had used. She was dressed in fresh and spotless garments; moreover, her under-clothes had been sewn together, so that even her clothes were left unchanged. From her sleeve they took out the sheet of paper she had written. It read: "Let my body be given to the Zhang family, to fulfil my father's wish."

Though not yet formally married, in the heart a secret pledge to share the grave.

For the sake of her father's earnest will, she strove unflinchingly to see it fulfilled.

Cheng Shi immediately sent word to the Zhang family. Father and son, moved by her loyalty, both came to assist with the laying-out. Zhang Guozhen knelt and wept over the coffin as though mourning a wife, put on the hemmed mourning of a husband, and performed the husband-and-wife rites before the bier. When the day came, the coffin was carried to the Zhang family's ancestral burial ground.

In later years, Zhang Guozhen passed the prefectural examinations. Matchmakers came; he turned them all away. Zhang Xiucai said: "You are my only son — how can you cling to a minor vow of faithfulness and bring our line to extinction?" He was persuaded over more than a year, and in the end took only a single maidservant into his household. When she bore him a son, he ceased to share her bed. In his study he kept only one spirit tablet for the company before him — that of the virtuous maiden. He and Cheng Shi were as brothers-in-law, their friendship unbroken to the end of their lives. Even after he passed the provincial examination, was appointed to office, and rose to the rank of associate prefect, he kept no concubine and no catamite, saying: "Keeping the maidservant is to honour my father's command; not taking a wife is to be faithful to the righteousness of Old Cheng and his son." The people of the county, restrained by the county magistrate, could only compose elegies and eulogies in private; no one could erect a monument or memorial plaque for her. The magistrate, afraid of the Governor, did not dare submit a memorial to request official commendation. Moreover, through suspicion he had fallen ill, tormented by remorse over the deaths of Old Cheng and his son — he often seemed to see a beautiful young woman with a thread about her neck standing before him, and developed a condition of anxiety and palpitations; in less than a year he reported himself sick and returned home. The Governor was later impeached for reckless expenditure of military funds and brought under arrest. Wang the local official received not a farthing of reward and endured a great deal of abuse. The Xu family, for its acts of violent bullying, was investigated by the authorities; its property was confiscated and its son reduced to beggary.

Though Cheng the Virtuous Maiden could not receive official commendation, she was granted a biography by Master Tu Chishui — which is more lasting than heaven and earth. Truly, one word of sincere praise outweighs four characters on a gilded plaque. Her father, brother, and sister-in-law — all members of one household, all righteous and loyal — live in the record and illuminate all ages together. As for the arrogant Xu family, the magistrate who lacked the backbone to refuse the demands of his social betters, the local official who trafficked in personal connections, the Governor who trusted a private petition — where are they all today? They still provoke the cold laughter of all who hear the tale.

If people without discernment hear this story, they will surely say: "A foolish old man and a foolish girl — turning down a wealthy family, inviting a lawsuit instead. The Xu family had money and power; even the magistrate danced to their tune. A poor examination scholar could never stand against them." Yet once you come to weigh the final reckoning — the meaning becomes clear enough of itself.