Chapter Eleven: Two Selfish Ends — A Wife's Greed and a Bribe Received; Two Ruined Fates — A Stipend Cut Off and a Life's Years Shortened

What good are purple seals and yellow proclamations?

Wealth and honor cannot match the abundance of accumulated virtue.

Official sleeves — how many times have they turned to flitting butterflies?

Vermilion gates — every one of them now scribes the spiral trail of the snail.

Beyond a single coffin, there is no "I" remaining;

For half a lifetime — for whose sake was it all done?

How laughable: the hoarders of wealth, insatiable to the last,

Wearing away the grains and half-grains between their fingers, round and round again.

Nothing in a man is harder to break than the grip of greed. Once greed takes hold, a man thinks only of lining his own pockets. He ceases to care for his reputation, his friends and kin, his sense of shame — and thence ceases to care for the law, or for the principles of heaven. Among the official class this is worst of all. Those who farm or trade may be grasping and rapacious, but within limits. Officials, however — they can beat men, command men, exercise power in the open. The moment a trace of greed shows itself, a whole retinue rushes forward to cater to it and lead it further, without end. In open daylight they levy surcharges and inflated assessments, heap up excess quotas, and impose heavy paper-receipt fees. What is extorted by whip and rod in broad daylight is bad enough; what is taken in the shadows — a finger dipped here, a percentage skimmed there — is more vicious still. Festival gifts, birthday gifts — rhinoceros-horn cups and golden goblets, painted scroll-works and lacquered screens, antique paintings and fine porcelain, rare inkstones and name-carved curios — do the donors part with these willingly? In the end it is always giving in appearance and taking in substance.

Day after day the tribute processions arrive;

Day after day the floggings are heard.

As one sits trafficking with the common people below,

Nine out of ten households burn like furnaces.

This is not entirely by choice. The moment a man puts on a gauze cap and sits in judgment for a single day, he is assessed a quota of silver for that day. Contributions for granary reserves, contributions for military rations, for horses, for household establishment — one offering, then another. I think of the poor scholar with four bare walls — where is he to find it all? And now the men of letters, once they leave their posting, compose memorials denouncing unworthy officials — fleecing the people, accepting bribes, buying recommendations and promotions. But I ask them this: in their own day, did they truly sever all connections? At the end of their term, seeking examination selection — did they not approach fellow provincials, men from their jurisdiction, with books and inkstones? It is only that rather than give offense to the scholars and common people, they prefer to give offense to those in positions of influence. Rather than suffer a guilty conscience in private, they prefer to suffer a lapse in ceremonial obligation. Gifts may be somewhat meager — but to sully one's own reputation for the sake of pleasing others has no purpose whatsoever.

As for enriching one's family — Heaven is most cunning in such matters. As recorded in the Tang Histories, the underworld has an official called the Overseer of Surplus, whose task is to confiscate men's excess wealth. Chancellor Li Jiao was poor; Zhang Yue was rich. A monk told someone: "Zhang, the Chancellor, is the reincarnation of the Insatiable Ghost King. In the underworld there are ten great iron furnaces casting his ill-gotten gains." All of this is controlled by hidden forces.

Whether rich or poor, all hangs from the hand of the creator;

Who grows poor by being clumsy, or rich by being clever?

The wise man knows to follow the natural tide —

Let him stop where the current stops, flow where it flows.

In the Ming dynasty there was once a censorate official who told his students: "Wealth has its ordained measure — one must not take what is not one's due. I was once on a tour of inspection in Yunnan. One night in the official quarters, I felt unsettled in spirit and could not sleep. I prayed: 'If there is someone here with a grievance who wishes to bring it before me, speak now.' In a trance, a golden-armored spirit appeared before me and said: 'Your Honor, there are a thousand taels of silver here — I have come specially to inform you.' I said: 'Where are they?' He replied: 'Under the tile beneath Your Honor's official chair.' I went to move the chair and lifted the tile, and found twenty ingots, totaling a thousand taels. I asked: 'How am I to get them home?' The spirit said: 'Simply write your native place, name, and current address, and I will arrange delivery.' I did as instructed, placed the writing on the silver, and covered it with the tile again. Later, when my tour was nearly complete, a fellow-graduate arrived in bereavement on behalf of a certain county magistrate seeking a recommendation — four hundred taels, two hundred for each of us. I firmly declined. My colleague said: 'If you don't take it, I'm afraid you'll forget. I must have you take it before I'll feel easy.' I accepted reluctantly. When my term ended and I returned home, I happened to think of the incident. I had my servants prepare three sacrificial animals and secretly offered prayers. The golden-armored spirit appeared again: 'The silver is under the long table in the study.' The next day I had servants lift the table — and there was the original silver, but only eight hundred taels. I said: 'The original was a thousand — now there are only eight hundred. Where did the other two hundred go?' That evening the spirit appeared again and said: 'That is the two hundred from your colleague.' He told this tale, and it so terrified him he sweated through his heavy robe. One can see from this: every human action is witnessed by spirits and ghosts. What one gains, another loses — the measure is fixed. Can one take what is not ordained?"

Wealth has no relation to clever calculation;

One whose thread of fate is poor will remain poor.

The avaricious man wears himself out in restless toil,

But the ingenuity of man cannot overcome the work of heaven.

I have heard that in Guangdong there was a graduate named Wei. While he was still a student, his family was extremely poor — food and clothing were both barely manageable.

No lamp, so he borrowed the moonlight to read by;

A door, yes, but it kept out no draft.

The cooking pot gathered dust more often than it steamed;

The money pouch was always empty.

He did nothing but read, paying little attention to household affairs. His wife's family was somewhat more comfortable; she was reasonably diligent, and the two of them scraped by from day to day. His wife often complained bitterly about his reading — it had devoured her dowry and reduced them to this poverty. Graduate Wei, making a difficult effort at reassurance, said: "Do not complain. If I should pass the examinations, I promise you will have whatever clothes or food you wish. I will repay your dowry ten times over — that is nothing." As it happened, he did pass the provincial examinations, then went on to the metropolitan examinations — and passed those too, placing in the third rank. He was due to be selected as a prefectural judge. First he was assigned to observe government in the Censorate. All at once there were expenses for a personal attendant, horse hire, and social calls. When his observation period ended, the selection date was still some way off. The journey being long and inconvenient, he had no choice but to remain in the capital to wait. For half a year he spent on rented rooms, food, condolence calls, and communal contributions — and by the time he was actually assigned an office, he had borrowed a further considerable sum to send gifts to superiors. The double-month selection fell on the twenty-fifth. The draw of the lot came up: Jiangling Prefecture in Huguang. This drawing of lots was itself something of a formality. Whenever a good prefecture came up, there would always be several capital officials — fellow graduates or mentors' students — who came to call and seek the successful candidate's future favor. On their behalf the candidate's position was obtained in advance, and nine out of ten good posts were already decided before the lots were drawn. As a rule, the lots would be sorted by region — north, south, or central — or graded upper, middle, and lower. In Wei's case, being a Guangdong man, the tube held deliberately only the Jiangling and Guangdong slips. Drawing Guangdong would disqualify him from his home province, so naturally Jiangling it was. Or perhaps a man from Huguang was put in to draw against him, and since the Huguang man could not properly take a Jiangling post, the vacancy fell to Wei.

Corruption in the bureaucracy is like thick cloud —

It can blot out even the moon's bright mirror.

Slow and clumsy men pile up like kindling;

Feng Tang had reason for his bitter sighs.

Once Graduate Wei received his posting, he hired a litter. At Xuzhou he took the water route: across the Huai River, across the Yangtze, through Zhejiang and Jiangxi to Guangdong. He paid his respects at the ancestral tombs, bid farewell to relatives and kinsmen, and took his wife along to his post. Now this wife of his had always heard that being an official was wonderful — she imagined something like carrying off gold and silver, seas of money and mountains of coin. When they actually arrived at the post, there was indeed quite a show along the route: attendants on foot and horse, an imposing welcome reception, and gifts arriving from the prefects, county magistrates, and local gentry once he was in the magistrate's yamen. Grand enough. Judge Wei, newly arrived, naturally maintained an air of dignity: refusing most gifts with difficulty, accepting one or two items — that was still acceptable enough.

In the rear quarters of the yamen, though business was conducted daily, it amounted to no more than transmitting and circulating the orders of the governor-general, governor, provincial administration commissioner, and circuit intendants — spending one's own energy grinding out paperwork on others' behalf. After more than a year, a circuit inspection audit brought in roughly a hundred taels in commuted ceremonial fees. In ordinary times, one relied on the Double Fifth and New Year holidays — twice a year — when all the county magistrates across the province sent festival gifts, averaging around four taels per man, with some of the smaller and more remote counties finding ways to avoid sending anything. His wife said: "Wonderful! So we're the equivalent of an education official — at least the festivals bring some activity. And they have more receipts for enrollment, so there's a stream of tuition fees at every intake." Such idle domestic chatter is the most insidious, most corrosive thing. Whenever gifts arrived, his wife received them herself. She wanted jewelry made, new clothes sewn — and because Wei had spent so freely in their poor days, and because she was given to fits of pique and weeping to get her way, he could not refuse and had to comply. As it was written: a man resolves to uphold his good name, but has no way to withstand the foolishness and greed of a doting wife. Moreover, when purchasing pearls, fine silk, and brocade — prices were short-changed, silver was graded down — and already the name of Judge Wei, who extorted and sought petty advantage, was going around.

The tiger has divine authority —

But the fox has stolen it.

Borrowing the tiger's light to cow the hundred beasts —

The great power, alas, has slipped into other hands.

In the secretariat there was a clerk named Shan Gui. He was a slippery one. He was on a rotation that took him to Guangdong to receive incoming officials. In secret, he had made gifts both to the wife and to the household manager, won their goodwill, and learned all about the inner and outer workings of the household — including the discovery that the wife wanted money and had the power to make decisions.

At this time, within the prefecture there was a powerful local magnate named Chen Chi whose family was extremely wealthy, but who was given to all manner of lawless conduct. He kept several dozen household thugs who ran private smuggling operations on the great river and also robbed homes in the surrounding villages. One day they robbed an official vessel belonging to a military circuit intendant who was a fellow graduate of the regional inspector. The circuit intendant pursued the case vigorously; prefectures and counties were required to report progress every three days, the intendant himself demanding an arrest report every fortnight, and the constables were deep in the investigation. As for Chen Chi's household thugs: whenever they brought back gold, gems, silks, and goods from their raids, Chen Chi would weigh out the cash value himself and pay each man a rate of his own devising — well below half price — while the goods were sent under escort to other provinces for sale. So none of his men had stolen goods on their persons to give them away. This time their haul had been large, and since Chen Chi as usual paid less than half the value, the men kept some goods on themselves. Having goods in hand, they thought of selling — but didn't know the right prices. Already a sharp-eyed constable had noticed. Moreover, they were frequenting the pleasure house of a woman named Zhou Ying, whose girls — Xue'er, Chu Yun, and a few others — were all fine-looking creatures, experts at drawing money out of men. These bandits, flush with easy gains, spent extravagantly at the house and gave gold and gems as casual gifts. The constables raided the place and arrested them in a group; their testimony led back to Chen Chi's household thugs. More than ten accomplices were all hauled out of Chen Chi's house. Chen Chi bought off the arresting constables and their superiors and shifted all blame onto his catamites. He submitted the report upward.

Chen Chi was extremely cunning and treacherous. He was willing to make lavish promises in a crisis, but would then short-change or default on payment afterward. The yamen runners all knew this, and deliberately left a hook in the case — the phrase "involving Chen Chi's catamite, not yet brought to official justice" remained in the initial constabulary deposition and was not removed. When the circuit intendant sent the case to the criminal division for retrial, Judge Wei, who was diligent in his duties, read through the case records with care. He reflected: a great river pirate must have a major den. The pleasure house was their spending ground — it was plausible that the proprietress covered for them out of greed, having no need to alert them to danger. But to say that a man who had spent years raising and feeding these men would harbor them in a catamite's residence for only a few days — that made no sense. He issued a warrant for Chen Chi's arrest.

Piercing the pillar to track the chief criminal;

Blocking the wheels to cut down the great villain.

Stern and unyielding, the iron face of justice —

Travelers on the road may perhaps be safe at last.

While the arrest warrant was being executed, a sudden order came from the circuit intendant to audit accounts in Wuchang. Judge Wei had no choice but to pack up and leave.

Earlier, when Judge Wei had arrived at his post and made his initial rounds of calls on the governor-general, the supervising censor, the provincial commissioners and circuit intendants, he had been delayed by contrary winds and moored his boat in a small inlet. Sitting alone, at leisure, he looked out from the boat and saw in the distance a grove of pine and bamboo, with halls and pavilions dimly visible among them. And through the contrary wind came faint sounds of bells and wind chimes. He asked the ferryman, who said it was the Holy Longevity Chan Temple. Judge Wei said: "It is outside my jurisdiction — there is no reason I cannot go for a stroll." Taking only a small retinue, with no flags or fanfare, he went into the grove — and found:

Bamboo leaning as if welcoming a guest;

Towering pines as if beckoning one in.

A village by the river, few footprints of men —

One path embroidered by a carpet of moss.

Turning past the grove, he heard intermittent bells, and gentle strains of wind instruments. A few novices came carrying musical instruments; a group of monks followed bearing incense. At the mountain gate stood an old monk — his temples silvered with age, his face bright as moonlight — bowing to receive him. They went into the main hall to pay respects to the Buddhas. Passing through to the abbot's quarters: paper windows, bamboo walls, a serene and unhurried atmosphere. Small plants and rare flowers, quiet and beautiful — a place of perfect rest. The furnishings were spotless; not a mote of dust. The whole wall was hung with verses and paintings, all in praise of the head monk, called Dao Ji.

One said: "A hundred-year-old tree records the monk's years of discipline; a bright moon, all in one piece, reflects an ancient heart."

Another: "Twenty years distant from city and market; a single heart ranging across all time."

Another: "To understand that wind and banner arise from thought; to realize that the bright mirror is in itself free of dust."

Another: "Wisdom emerges from within samadhi; awakening goes before the world."

Judge Wei looked and said: "This old monk must be the very Abbot Dao Ji. A man of extraordinary qualities outside the common sphere — let us meet as equals, host and guest." The old monk demurred at length, then sat to one side. Soon tea arrived, accompanied by fruits and pastries — all exquisitely prepared. They exchanged the customary pleasantries of Chan discourse, each praising the other. On the whole, an official who discusses Chan has already transcended the ordinary person's understanding. And the monks, for their part, flattered him — so the conversation went well. After sitting a good while they proceeded to a meal — all manner of rare things from distant places, evidently prepared well in advance.

Judge Wei said: "You, Venerable One, are a celebrated master of the Chan grove, truly free of worldly attachment. Just now your monks came a great way to receive me, and you have entertained me so lavishly — is this not somewhat excessive?" A quick-tongued young monk standing to one side replied: "Our teacher does not lightly receive visitors and usually dispenses with ceremony. Three days ago, in deep meditation, he foreknew that a great and noble personage was coming. He specially sent your student to the city to prepare provisions. This morning he instructed the monks to go out and receive you at the gate — thus it is as you see." Judge Wei said: "Can the Abbot Dao Ji truly know things before they happen?" The abbot said: "I dare not claim such a thing. It was the little monk's idle chatter." Judge Wei laughed, thinking it was all nonsense. He spent the night in the temple and became friends with the abbot. The temple duly placed a notice in the donor's hall: "Great Benefactor His Honor Magistrate Wei" — in large red paper. Although Judge Wei thought of it as nonsense, he kept going back to test the monk on each visit, and the reception was always identical to the first. This time, on his return from Wuchang, Judge Wei went to visit him again.

Arriving at Wuchang, he did no more than the usual: went to the prefectural offices, inspected the granaries and treasure houses, reviewed the garrison troops, held a session of court for the prisoners. He allowed the clerks to select a number of cases that seemed to merit leniency or doubt, to await the circuit inspector's ruling. He asked the prefect and county magistrate about the competence or incompetence of their assistants and subordinate officials, and about the clerks who needed to be admonished, then compiled a register to await the circuit inspector's commendations and reprimands. At this time, Chief Minister Zhang Juzheng had returned to his home province to mourn his mother's death. Both the governor-general and the supervising censor, along with the three levels of provincial commissioners, all went to Jiangling to offer condolences. Judge Wei also went back to his post.

Following the same mold, the same gourd —

The clerks run about for nothing.

Who is truly zealous for the public good?

Who refines himself with a genuinely open heart?

Back in the yamen, he turned naturally to the unfinished business of the previous period. Chen Chi had long since found Clerk Shan Gui and prevailed on him to find a powerful patron. Shan Gui proposed one thousand taels — a sum sufficient, if delivered to the right dragon, to make the matter disappear. Chen Chi said: "I hear that Judge Wei has never yet been broken. If someone approaches him clumsily and he takes offense, this affair will become even worse. Without an intimate family acquaintance, it would be better to approach Chief Minister Zhang's son." Shan Gui laughed: "What I can do for you — why would you want to pass that advantage to someone else? Zhang's son won't even open his eyes for less than three thousand taels!" Chen Chi, seeing the point, deferred to him and handed over a thousand taels.

Shan Gui waited until the judge was away, and first spoke to the household manager. The household manager said: "The wife is the one who wants money — and she is the one who makes decisions. If the wife agrees, there's no fear the master won't comply." Shan Gui deliberately baited him: "I find the master very firm in upholding the law. I'm afraid even the wife can't manage it. If she could, ten thousand taels might be had. The manager would also get a thousand or so." The manager said: "There are ways to hobble a bull if you know how — leave it all to the wife." The manager went to speak with the wife, who readily agreed to take charge of everything. Shan Gui then delivered six hundred taels privately to the wife; the household manager received sixty taels with a bonus; the "facilitator's fee" for the back end was thirty taels. The remainder went into Shan Gui's own sleeve.

A thousand gold buys out the lion's roar;

Three sides gained — and the kite owl is set free to soar.

Judge Wei returned to the yamen. That evening the two of them drank a little wine together. When they had settled in and put things away, the wife came in all smiles: "We have made a great sum of money today after more than a year in office." Judge Wei said: "Are you talking about the commuted fees and table expenses from the Wuchang audit?" His wife said: "You call that kind of thing great money?" She drew from her sleeve a petition from Chen Chi and said: "This man brought six hundred taels in silver. I accepted it. You should let him off the hook." Judge Wei said: "This man cannot be spared — I was just about to nail him down and make a name for myself." His wife said: "Making a name is not as good as making money. You've been saying how good it is to be an official for two years — look at us — we haven't even paid off the capital debts from before. With this sum, couldn't we clear them?" Judge Wei said: "Money will come with time in office — please don't do this, wife." His wife said: "Money will come with time! Two years as a graduate, one year as a judge, and we're still like this. Money sitting right there and you won't grab it. You'll never get rich this way. Whatever you say, I want that money." Judge Wei said: "Who brought this in?" His wife said: "Heaven sent it. Don't be such a fool. You don't want money, yet when your promotions come, the thieves and whores who run the process will take their cut from you. I just want to ask — right now, if you don't grab these few taels to pay people back, who will lend you money in the future? Besides, this case — someone has already gone over it thoroughly — why go out of your way to persecute people?" And she was working herself up to a scene.

The tiger's heart is fierce by nature;

The wolf's instinct is even more rapacious.

What does it understand of names and righteousness?

Only profit is what it craves.

Wei's wife did not even take out the silver for him to look at, but simply went off to sleep. Judge Wei called in the household manager and, in mock anger, said: "You lot have done a fine piece of work! Which one of you was responsible?" All of them had taken money; they looked at one another and said nothing. He wanted to strike the gatekeeper, but his wife leaped up and cried: "You cannot beat me — are you beating him as a substitute?" She made a scene, and Judge Wei dared not say another word. He wanted to question the private-quarters guards, but was afraid of creating a public scandal. He could only find a pretext — that one of them had not been regularly attending his post — had him given twenty-five strokes, to vent his feelings, and then brooded over the matter for several days. The superior authorities sent down orders; with no choice, he had no option but to follow the original investigation and issue his findings. Shan Gui, wanting to demonstrate his usefulness and value, then pressed the wife to in turn coerce Judge Wei into delivering a clean verdict for Chen Chi and making the catamite the sole recipient of the sentence.

From this Chen Chi slept easy on his pillow;

The catamite stretched out his neck to the executioner's blade.

In the beginning there was no intention to kill a man;

But he reached out and pulled in money stained with a man's blood.

The brush fell like spear and halberd —

A wronged soul wept in the ninth level of the underworld.

After this affair, Judge Wei feared his wife might do something similar again. He kept the private quarters under strict control and hardly went out to drink.

Not long afterward, the circuit inspection censor issued a notice of arrival and began his circuit inspection in Wuchang. Judge Wei went ahead to the prefecture, sealed and secured the yamen offices, and blocked all the back channels. He told the two assistant officials of the prefecture to take turns supplying water and vegetables. He also told his wife: "Once is enough — there must not be a second time." His wife said: "What a miser! What a miser. Just wait and see." She went out and gave the gatekeepers a thorough set of instructions before he left.

Since Judge Wei was by nature an upright man who wanted to do well, this affair weighed on his conscience. He was afraid people would find out about it, and felt oppressed and unhappy. As he neared the Holy Longevity Temple, he could barely wait to leap ashore and share this with the abbot. But when he turned past the grove, there was no sound of bells, no drums, no music. Arriving at the temple gate, a small novice barely noticed him and went inside to call — only a few monks came running out to receive him. Some had their under-robe but no outer cap; some had their short tunic but no formal gown. They scrambled to receive him, and not one incense stick had been prepared. In the abbot's quarters, dust lay thick on the table; chairs were scattered east and west. The abbot himself came fumbling out only after some time, apologizing repeatedly for the delayed reception. Tea was served hastily; the evening meal was plain and ordinary. And the same sharp-tongued young monk was still there serving them. Judge Wei said to him: "So your teacher-patriarch has lost his foreknowledge?" The monk said: "It is truly so — Teacher did not give instructions, and there was a failure to receive you properly, Your Honor." The abbot also apologized urgently, saying: "There is truly a reason — only I dare not say it." Judge Wei said: "What reason? Venerable One, please speak." The abbot said: "This is hard to say without sounding preposterous. My temple's guardian deity is most miraculously responsive. Whenever a noble personage is about to pass by, the deity gives me three days' warning in a dream. When Chief Minister Zhang was still a licentiate and came here to escape a contrary wind, the deity told me in advance. And so, since Chief Minister Zhang has achieved great eminence, he endowed our temple with ten mu of land for the common use, and left behind a plaque with the inscription 'Miraculously Efficacious' in the deity's shrine. Every time Your Honor has come before, the deity always sent word. But this time, for some reason — whether the deity has gone out on business, or has some other reason, or was simply too idle to report — he did not come."

Judge Wei said: "Is that really so?" The abbot said: "I would not dare tell a falsehood." Judge Wei said: "I am going to Wuchang and will return in no more than ten days or so. Would Your Reverence inquire of the deity what the reason was?" Whether this was half belief or half doubt, we cannot say. But the old monk, true to his nature, went before the guardian deity shrine and carried on a one-sided conversation: "You are the lord of this temple. The flourishing or decay of this temple rests entirely on you. How could you fail to report the arrival of a noble personage, thus causing an offense against Judge Wei? I require you to tell me the reason for your failure to report. Speak at once!" He said it again and again, chanted it again and again — as though the clay god had ears. For:

When profit and loss churn and riot in the breast,

The words that issue from the lips are never few.

When the prayers were done, the deity — as it happened — did have a response. That night a dream came, clearly explaining the reason why. The old monk was greatly startled.

Let no man say the court of heaven is high —

The eyes of the gods miss nothing.

Half a month later, Judge Wei came again. Again it was not like the lavish first reception. Judge Wei looked around and laughed: "So the guardian deity is still not functioning." The old monk's mouth moved and hesitated. Judge Wei said: "Since he is functioning, why did he fail to report again? And what was the answer to my inquiry?" The abbot wanted to speak, but stopped. He paused a long while. Judge Wei laughed loudly: "The guardian deity story was still just meant to divert me." The abbot thought for a long time — to speak risked offending the judge; not to speak would merely confirm that all his previous words had been empty boasts. A true dilemma. At last he said, "It is difficult to say," and Judge Wei replied: "You and I are friends beyond the world of forms. Say whatever is on your mind." The abbot said: "The deity spoke. I dare not believe it myself." He moved his chair closer to Judge Wei's and said quietly: "The deity said that Your Honor is destined in time to serve as governor-general of all of Chu, and to attain the rank of Grand Secretary. This district is within your future jurisdiction — that is why the deity always reported your arrival. Today he did not come because— it is truly hard to say." Judge Wei pressed him. The abbot said: "The spirit said that recently Your Honor received six hundred taels from one person, allowed a guilty man to live and condemned an innocent man in his place. The heavenly warrant has already been issued — Your Honor will not become governor-general of Chu. That is why no report was made."

These words struck Judge Wei like a man standing on the summit of Mount Hua, or as though he had plunged into the depths of the ocean. Sweat soaked through his heavy robe. His body felt as if it had lost its master.

Forcing a steady expression, he said: "I have always striven to discipline myself. What you call 'an unjust verdict' may have occurred; but 'receiving money to pervert the law' — that I have absolutely not done." Unsteady on his feet, he rose and boarded his boat. The abbot accompanied him to the gate with many apologies, trying to keep him, but could not. Judge Wei clasped the abbot's hand: "What you said just now — do not speak of it lightly." The abbot repeatedly swore he would not. All the way home, Judge Wei was melancholy and troubled. He thought of sending a man to summon the catamite back to court and rescinding the verdict himself through a fellow judge — but feared Chen Chi would find out and demand the money back. Moreover, the case had already been forwarded to the Ministry. If it were suppressed, how could it be right that the true ring-leader should go free while a false one received the death penalty, all because he had taken money? He could only laugh bitterly at himself:

First poverty made a suckling tiger of me;

Now regret has turned me back to a meek lamb.

Arriving at the prefecture, he crossed the threshold when the watch-plank was struck for the gate to open, went directly into the study, and sat in desolate silence. His wife had been accumulating several more public matters and was eager for him to return. Hearing him go straight to the study, she thought: "How strange." She too went into the study. She heard him stamping his boot-heels on the floor twice and saying: "A Grand Secretary — I have casually thrown it away." His wife, still smiling, entered to greet him: "What kind of Grand Secretary have you thrown away? If it's something good, have someone go and pick it up." Judge Wei said: "All for your six hundred taels of silver, you sold off one Grand Secretary of the Board of Personnel for me." His wife said: "If six hundred taels can buy a Grand Secretary of the Board, the silver is more worth having." Judge Wei told her the whole episode in detail and said: "The spirits witness all that is hidden — even a team of four horses cannot catch up with them once they know." He sighed and grieved until he was almost in tears.

How vain is all the piling up of baskets and coffers —

Little knowing that the Way of Heaven shines clear above.

Gather all the iron in Weizhou,

And it cannot be cast into the word "wrong."

His wife, seeing his distress and resentment, said: "You're afraid I'll do something else, so you've conjured up these ghost stories to frighten me. I think it's the poor-scholar ghost from your student days, still possessing you and doing the talking." Seeing that reason had no purchase with her, she drifted away contentedly. Not long afterward, under the new regulations of Chief Minister Zhang Juzheng, maritime pirates in the south and horse-bandits in the north, when confirmed in their guilt, were to be executed immediately without awaiting the autumn assizes. The imperial decree came down; the Ministry's orders arrived; the catamite and the rest of the gang were all marched to the execution ground and beheaded.

What pity —

A chief only of the flower-houses;

He had no connection to the severing of the bandit chief.

Wormwood and mugwort were mown down together with the fine grass —

The eloquent brush had summoned wind and thunder.

Judge Wei, hearing this, felt even more wretched and unsettled. Before his full term was up, pleading ill health, he asked for leave to return to his home province — and within a few years he was dead. Thus one can see: what is not rightfully one's to take, even in the open there are human reproaches, and in the dark there are ghostly punishments. For a man of upright heart and transparent character, one who would not take the smallest improper thing — even if there were no spirits to witness him, he could not stoop so low. How much less may he plan to harm others for material gain.

As for shallow understanding — this belongs most to women. How can they be allowed to make decisions? The root of this disease lay in the fact that even before he became an official — when he was still a poor student — he had already nourished a heart full of desire for wealth, rank, and success. The moment power was in his hands, all restraint collapsed together — this is the unfailing pattern.

I ask the hoarders of wealth: is it to provide for your wives and children, or to advance your official career? If you cannot even preserve your own life, and all the stipends and offices you were meant to receive are stripped away — should that not be a warning?

In matters of the unseen, one cannot trust them entirely — but one cannot disbelieve them entirely either. To use the law to squeeze money, to extort and fleece the common people — that is even more impermissible.

Even if one says "I only listened to another's advice": though the money went into someone else's hands, the crime was committed by you. To style yourself "clever" and "free-spirited" — though one says "I have no personal involvement" — that is being sighted and yet blind, a betrayal of the four words: "washing away injustice and redressing wrongs."

Of late one sees men covering for their clerks and runners, allowing them to escape punishment. The true killer has turned plaintiff; the innocent man has his family broken and his life ended. The guiltless grass is mown along with the weeds; the licentiate is treated as worthless straw. Summons and warrants come like fire; petitions for review pile up like clouds — always striving to manufacture a conviction. Petitions for review being drafted by the same clerks, naturally they are free to thread a ring through the official's nose. Yet when one man's grievance goes unredressed and another man is instead killed and ruined — can he look on without a qualm? I only fear that when men's complaints stir Heaven's anger, there may well be consequences none can escape. And so from the ancient rules of criminal judgment come these admonishments: guard against partiality shown to the influential; guard against bias born of enmity and reprisal; guard against the inner circle — wives, concubines, or private favorites who intercede; guard against bribery; guard against letters and personal visits from those seeking favor. All of these are, in the eye of the law, equally culpable with the man who is put to death. Let all who decide criminal cases take heed, and tremble.