When Officer Wu turned around and saw the man before him, he threw himself to the ground in a kowtow. The man was none other than his own elder brother, Wu the Elder. After the bow, Wu Song said, "It's been over a year since I've seen you, brother. How is it you're here?"

"Second Brother," said Wu the Elder, "you've been gone so long—why haven't you sent me a single letter? I've both resented you and missed you."

"How can you resent me and miss me at once?" asked Wu Song.

"When I resent you," said Wu the Elder, "it's because back in Qinghe County, whenever you drank yourself drunk, you'd get into fights and land yourself in court. I had to trail along to every hearing, and there wasn't a single clean month without trouble—that's the resentment. But when I miss you—I recently took a wife. The good-for-nothings of Qinghe County couldn't stomach it, and they came around bullying us, with no one to stand up for us. When you were home, who'd have dared so much as fart? I couldn't hold my ground there anymore, so I moved here and rented a house—that's the missing."

Now, dear reader, you should know: Wu the Elder and Wu Song were two brothers born of the same mother. Wu Song stood eight feet tall with a commanding presence; his whole body carried strength enough to lift a thousand catties. How else could he have beaten that fierce tiger? But Wu the Elder stood under five feet, ugly of face, ridiculous of head. The people of Qinghe County, seeing how short and stunted he was, had nicknamed him "Three-Inch Mulberry-Bark Dwarf."

In Qinghe County there was a wealthy household with a maidservant named Pan Jinlian, just over twenty years old and quite pretty. When the master of the house tried to force himself on her, she refused and reported him to his wife. The master bore a grudge for this, so he gave her a dowry out of his own pocket and married her off to Wu the Elder without taking a single coin. After Wu the Elder took this woman as his wife, several cunning young idlers from Qinghe County came pestering at their door. For you see, this woman saw that her husband was short, ugly, and utterly lacking in romance. She had many fine qualities, but her chief one was loving to take lovers.

After Pan Jinlian crossed the threshold as a bride, Wu the Elder—a timid, honest soul—had to endure those fellows shouting before his door: "What a fine piece of mutton, fallen into a dog's mouth!" So he couldn't stay in Qinghe County and moved to Purple Stone Street in Yanggu County, renting a house and selling his steamed buns as before.

That day, when Wu the Elder had been doing business before the county office and saw Wu Song, he said, "Brother, the other day I heard people buzzing on the street: 'A tiger-killing hero named Wu on Jingyang Ridge—the magistrate has made him an officer.' I guessed it was you eight-tenths of the way, but only today did we meet. Never mind business—let's go home together."

"Where is your home, brother?" asked Wu Song.

Wu the Elder pointed: "Just ahead on Purple Stone Street." Wu Song took up his brother's carrying pole, and Wu the Elder led him around corners and bends straight to Purple Stone Street.

They turned two corners and came beside a teahouse. Wu the Elder called out, "Wife, open the door!" The reed curtain lifted, and a woman appeared beneath it, answering: "Husband, why are you back so early in the day?"

"Your brother-in-law is here—come meet him," said Wu the Elder. He took the carrying pole inside, then came out again: "Second Brother, come into the house and meet your sister-in-law."

Wu Song lifted the curtain and entered to greet the woman. Wu the Elder said, "Wife, the one who killed the great tiger on Jingyang Ridge and was newly made officer—that's my brother here."

The woman pressed her hands together before her: "Greetings to my uncle."

"Sister-in-law, please sit," said Wu Song. He then bowed his head low to the floor in full obeisance.

The woman hurried forward to support him: "Uncle, you'll do me to death with such courtesy!"

"Sister-in-law, accept the bow," said Wu Song.

"I heard people say a tiger-slaying hero had been welcomed before the county office," said the woman. "I was just going out to see him, but I left too late and missed it. It turns out it was you, uncle! Please, come upstairs to sit."

Wu Song looked at her: her brows were like early spring willow leaves, always holding rain-sorrow and cloud-grief; her face like March peach blossoms, secretly carrying wind-and-moon passions. Her slender waist swayed gracefully, her lips were light and fragrant—enough to draw bees wild and butterflies mad. A jade beauty, lovely as a speaking flower.

The woman told Wu the Elder to invite Wu Song upstairs, where they sat in the guest's seat of honor.

Once all three were seated upstairs, the woman looked at Wu the Elder: "I'll keep your brother company here—you go prepare some wine and food to entertain him."

"Best idea," said Wu the Elder. "Second Brother, sit a while—I'll be right back." He went downstairs.

Alone on the upper floor with Wu Song, the woman studied his appearance and thought: "Wu Song is his full brother by the same mother, and he's grown so tall and fine. If I'd married a man like this, I wouldn't have wasted my life! Look at my Three-Inch Mulberry-Bark Dwarf—three parts human, seven parts ghost. What rotten luck is mine! With Wu Song's strength—he brought down a tiger, after all—he must be powerful indeed... And they say he's never married. Why not ask him to move into our house? Who'd have thought this destiny would appear here!"

She put on a smile and asked: "Uncle, how many days have you been here?"

"A dozen or so," Wu Song replied.

"Where are you staying?" she asked.

"I've been roughing it in the county office."

"That's not convenient at all," said the woman. "Why not move into our home? Whenever you need soup or water, I'll prepare it myself—much better than those filthy soldiers serving you. Even a bowl of clear broth from me would set your mind at ease."

"Many thanks, sister-in-law," said Wu Song.

"Unless you have a wife elsewhere—you could bring her to meet us too," she pressed.

"I've never married," said Wu Song.

"How old are you, uncle?"

"I've wasted twenty-five years."

"Three years older than me. Where have you come from now?"

"I spent over a year in Cangzhou, thinking my brother still lived in Qinghe County—I didn't know he'd moved here."

"It's a long story!" said the woman. "Ever since I married your brother, his gentleness got him bullied. We couldn't stay in Qinghe County, so we came here. If we had someone as strong as you, who would dare say a word against us!"

"My brother has always been honest—not like me, who stirs up trouble," said Wu Song.

The woman laughed: "Why do you put it backwards? As the saying goes: 'Without a backbone of steel, a person can't stand firm.' I've always had a quick temper and can't bear these spineless types who turn at every word."

"My brother never causes trouble—no need for you to worry," said Wu Song.

As they were speaking, Wu the Elder returned with wine, meat, and fruit. He set them down in the kitchen and called up: "Wife, come down and prepare things."

"Look at this fool!" she answered. "His brother is sitting here, and he wants me to run off downstairs!"

"Sister-in-law, please go ahead," said Wu Song.

"Why not ask Widow Wang next door to arrange it?" she said. "He's so useless!"

Wu the Elder went to enlist their neighbor, Widow Wang, who prepared everything properly. The food was carried upstairs and set on the table—fish, meat, fruit, and vegetables—and wine was heated and brought up. Wu the Elder had his wife take the seat of honor, with Wu Song across from her and himself at the side. He poured wine for each.

The woman raised her cup: "Uncle, forgive us—there's little to offer. Please drink a cup."

"Thank you, sister-in-law," said Wu Song. "Don't say such things."

Wu the Elder busied himself pouring and warming wine, paying no mind to anything else. The woman smiled radiantly, calling out endlessly: "Uncle, won't you eat a piece of fish or meat?" She picked the best morsels and passed them over. Wu Song was a straightforward man who treated her as his proper sister-in-law—but she had been a maidservant, skilled in flattery, while Wu the Elder was too weak-willed to manage anyone.

After several cups, the woman's eyes fixed on Wu Song's body. He grew uncomfortable under her gaze and lowered his head, ignoring her. When he'd drunk a dozen or so cups, he rose to leave.

"Second Brother, drink a few more before you go," said Wu the Elder.

"That's enough for now—I'll come visit again." They all saw him downstairs.

The woman called: "Uncle, you must move into our house! If you don't, people will laugh at us both—a real brother is not like a stranger. Husband, prepare a room and invite your brother to live with us, so the neighbors won't say anything against us."

"Wife's right," said Wu the Elder. "Second Brother, move in—it'll do me credit too."

"If that's what you both want," said Wu Song, "I'll bring my luggage tonight."

"Be sure to remember, uncle!" said the woman. "I'll be waiting." Her attentiveness was overwhelming.

Wu Song took his leave and went back to the county office. The magistrate happened to be holding court. Wu Song came before him: "My elder brother lives on Purple Stone Street. I wish to stay at his home while still reporting for duty each day. I dared not go without your permission."

"This is a filial and fraternal act—how could I stop you?" said the magistrate. "Come to the office daily as usual."

Wu Song thanked him, packed his bedding and belongings, had a soldier carry them, and moved into his brother's house. The woman was as delighted as if she'd found gold at midnight, smiling from ear to ear. Wu the Elder hired a carpenter to fix up a room upstairs with a bed, table, stools, and brazier. Wu Song settled in and sent the soldier away, spending that night at his brother's home.

The next morning the woman rose early, heated washing water, and prepared mouth-rinse. She had Wu Song wash up, wrap his headcloth properly, and go to the county office to check in. "After you've checked in, come straight home for breakfast—don't eat elsewhere!" she called.

"I'll be right back," he said. He went to the office, attended through the morning, and returned. The woman washed her hands, trimmed her nails, and set out a neat meal; all three ate at one table. Afterward she brought him tea with both hands.

"You trouble yourself too much, sister-in-law," said Wu Song. "I feel uneasy eating and sleeping here. Let me have the county assign a soldier to serve me."

"Uncle, why be so distant?" she cried. "We're your own flesh and blood—we're not serving strangers! Even if you brought a soldier, that fellow would be filthy around the stove; I can't bear the sight of such people."

"Well then, I'll have to trouble you," said Wu Song.

Days passed. Wu Song gave his brother silver to buy cakes and tea for the neighbors, who contributed money for a feast in return, which Wu the Elder answered with another banquet. Some days later Wu Song brought out a bolt of colored satin for his sister-in-law to make clothes. She laughed: "Uncle, you shouldn't! But since you've given it, I won't refuse—I'll take it."

Wu Song stayed on at his brother's house. Wu the Elder went out selling buns as before, and Wu Song reported to the county each day. Whether he came home early or late, the woman had meals ready, serving him with delight—so much so that Wu Song felt embarrassed. She often dropped hints and teasing words, but being hard-hearted and straightforward, he took no offense.

A month slipped by; it was now eleventh-month weather. A biting wind blew for days, clouds massed darkly on all sides, and then a great snow began to fall, swirling and drifting down from the sky. It fell until the first watch of night, laying silver over the world and jade across heaven.

The next morning Wu Song went out early to the county office and hadn't returned by noon. The woman had sent her husband off to sell buns, then asked Widow Wang next door to buy wine and meat. She lit a pan of charcoal in Wu Song's room and thought: "Today I'll really test him—I refuse to believe he won't be moved."

She stood alone beneath the curtain, cold and forlorn, waiting. At last Wu Song came tramping home through the scattered jade-white snow. The woman lifted the curtain and greeted him with a smile: "Uncle must be cold!"

"Thank you for your concern, sister-in-law." He came in and took off his felt cap.

She reached out with both hands to take it, but he said, "Don't trouble yourself," brushed off the snow himself, and hung it on the wall. He untied his waist sash and took off his parrot-green silk padded jacket, draping it in his room.

"I've been waiting since morning," she said. "Why didn't you come home for breakfast?"

"A colleague at the office invited me to breakfast," he said. "Then someone else offered another round, but I couldn't be bothered—I came straight home."

"Then warm yourself by the fire, uncle." She barred the front door and closed the back door as well, then carried wine, fruit, and vegetables into his room, laying them on the table.

"Hasn't brother come home yet?" asked Wu Song.

"He goes out selling every day," she said. "You and I will drink a few cups ourselves."

"We should wait for brother to return," he said.

"Who can wait that long!" She had already heated a flagon of wine.

"Sister-in-law, sit down—let me pour the wine properly," said Wu Song.

"You go ahead." She pulled up a stool and sat by the fire. The cups and dishes were on the table beside it. She raised a cup in her hand and looked at him: "Uncle, drink this full cup."

He took it and drained it. She poured another: "The weather is cold—drink a pair of cups."

"Sister-in-law, help yourself." He drank that too. Then Wu Song poured a cup for her; she took it and drank. She refilled his cup and set it before him.

She let her bosom show slightly, loosened her hair bun, and smiled: "I heard some idle gossip that you've been keeping a singing girl on East Street before the county office—is there any truth to it?"

"Sister-in-law, don't listen to outsiders' nonsense," said Wu Song. "I'm not that kind of man."

"I don't believe it—your mouth may not match your heart."

"If you don't believe me, ask my brother."

"What does he know? If he understood such things, he wouldn't be selling buns! Uncle, have another cup." She poured three or four cups and drank them herself. With three cups inside her, her passions stirred beyond control, and she kept chattering on. Wu Song understood eight or nine parts of it and only lowered his head.

She rose to warm more wine while he sat by the fire stirring the coals with tongs. She came back with a heated flagon, one hand holding it, the other squeezing his shoulder: "Uncle, aren't you cold in just those clothes?"

Wu Song was already five-tenths annoyed and said nothing. Seeing no response, she snatched the fire tongs from his hand: "You don't know how to tend coals—let me fix them for you, so the brazier stays warm like a hearth should." Wu Song grew eight-tenths irritated but remained silent. Her desire burned hot as fire; heedless of his mood, she put down the tongs, poured a cup of wine, sipped it herself, and offered him the rest: "If you have any feeling for me, drink this half-cup of my leftover wine."

Wu Song snatched it from her hand and dashed it to the ground. "Sister-in-law, don't be so shameless!" He shoved her, nearly knocking her over, and glared at her: "I am a man who stands between heaven and earth, with teeth and hair—not some pig or dog that ruins morals and disregards human decency! Don't you dare behave this way. If the slightest rumor gets out, my eyes may recognize you as my sister-in-law, but my fists will not! Don't ever try this again!"

The woman flushed crimson. She gathered up the cups and dishes, muttering: "I was only playing—no need to take it so seriously. You don't know how to appreciate kindness!" She carried the things off to the kitchen.

Pan Jinlian had failed to seduce Wu Song and been scolded for her trouble. He sat in his room fuming. It was early afternoon when Wu the Elder came back with his carrying pole and pushed at the door; the woman opened it hastily. He set down his load and followed her into the kitchen, where he saw his wife's eyes red from weeping.

"Who were you quarreling with?" he asked.

"It's all because you have no backbone!" she said. "You let outsiders bully me!"

"Who would dare bully you?"

"As if I know! But that Wu Song—I saw him come home in the heavy snow and hurried to prepare wine for him. Seeing there was nobody around, he started making advances at me!"

"My brother isn't that kind of man," said Wu the Elder. "He's always been honest. Don't raise your voice—the neighbors will laugh!"

He left his wife and went to Wu Song's room: "Second Brother, you haven't had anything to eat. Let's have a bite together."

Wu Song made no answer. After thinking a while, he changed back into his oiled boots, put on his coat, donned his felt cap, tied his sash, and walked out the door.

"Where are you going, Second Brother?" Wu the Elder called. But Wu Song went straight off without a word.

Wu the Elder returned to the kitchen: "I called him but he wouldn't answer—he just headed toward the county office. What's going on?"

"That muddlehead!" she cursed. "Can't you see? He's ashamed and has no face to meet you, so he's left. I bet he'll send someone for his luggage and won't stay here anymore."

"If he moves out, people will laugh at us," said Wu the Elder.

"Fool! He made advances at me, and you worry about laughter? If you want, go talk to him yourself—I can't abide such a man. Give me a writ of divorce and keep him if you like!" Wu the Elder dared not open his mouth again.

As the couple bickered, Wu Song appeared with a soldier carrying a carrying pole. He went straight to his room, packed his things, and headed out.

"Second Brother!" Wu the Elder ran after him. "Why are you moving out?"

"Don't ask, brother," said Wu Song. "If I told you, it would disgrace you. Just let me go."

Wu the Elder dared not press further and let him leave. From inside, the woman cursed under her breath: "Fine! People think having an officer for a brother means being well kept—but he's nothing but a biting dog! A pretty gourd that's hollow inside! Move out, and thank heaven—at least I'll have my tormentor out of sight."

Wu the Elder didn't know what to make of her curses and felt gloomily uneasy. After Wu Song moved back to the county office, Wu the Elder went on selling buns as usual. He thought of seeking his brother out, but his wife warned him repeatedly not to bother him, so he never did.

Time flew; the snow cleared, and a dozen days passed. Now the magistrate had been in office for over two and a half years and had amassed considerable gold and silver. He wanted to send it to the Eastern Capital for safekeeping with relatives, hoping to secure a promotion—but he feared robbers on the road. He needed a capable, trusted man.

Suddenly he thought of Wu Song: "This is the one—a true hero!" He summoned Wu Song that day and said: "I have a relative living in the Eastern Capital. I want to send a load of gifts with a letter of greeting, but the road is dangerous. It needs a hero like you to make the journey. Don't refuse the hardship—go for me, and when you return I'll reward you handsomely."

"I am honored by your trust," said Wu Song. "How could I refuse? If you send me, I'll go at once. I've never seen the Eastern Capital; it will be a chance to look around. Prepare everything tomorrow and I'll leave."

The magistrate was delighted and gave him three cups of wine.

Wu Song left the office and went to his lodgings, took some silver, called a soldier, bought a bottle of wine with fish and fruit, and headed straight for Purple Stone Street. Wu the Elder had just returned from selling buns and saw Wu Song sitting by the door; he sent the soldier to arrange things in the kitchen.

The woman's passion still smoldered. Seeing Wu Song bring wine and food, she thought: "Could it be he's thinking of me after all—coming back? He must not be able to resist me. I'll sound him out slowly."

She went upstairs, powdered her face anew, rearranged her hair, changed into brighter clothes, and came down to greet him with a bow: "Uncle, what misunderstanding kept you away for so many days? I had no idea what was wrong. Every day I told your brother to go find you at the office and make amends, but he only said he couldn't find you. Today I'm glad you've come—but why spend money on gifts?"

"I have something to say to you both," said Wu Song.

"Then let's sit upstairs."

They went up, and Wu Song had his brother and sister-in-law take the seats of honor while he sat at the side. The soldier carried up wine and meat and set them out. Wu Song urged them to drink. The woman kept darting glances at him; he kept drinking.

After five rounds, Wu Song asked for a pledge cup. He had the soldier pour it and held it up, looking at Wu the Elder: "Brother above: today the magistrate has ordered me to the Eastern Capital on business. I leave tomorrow—two months at most, or forty or fifty days before I return. There's something I must tell you: you've always been timid. While I'm away, outsiders may bully you. Say you sell ten baskets of buns a day—from tomorrow, sell only five. Go out late and come home early; don't drink with anyone. When you're home, lower the curtain and bolt the door early. That will save endless trouble. If someone bullies you, don't argue—wait until I return, and I'll settle it myself. If you agree, brother, drink this cup."

Wu the Elder took the cup: "My brother speaks sense. I'll do everything you say." He drank.

Wu Song poured a second cup and turned to the woman: "Sister-in-law is a shrewd person—I needn't say much. My brother is simple by nature; it's up to you to watch over him. As the saying goes: 'A stout lining matters more than a fine outer garment.' If you keep the household in order, what worries will my brother have? And remember the old words: 'If the fence is strong, no dog gets in.'"

At these words the woman's face flushed red from the ears down. She pointed at Wu the Elder and cursed: "You filthy fool! What tales have you been telling outsiders to get me bullied! I'm a man who wears no headcloth—a clanging, ringing woman! You can stand on my fist, run horses on my arm, walk across my face! I'm no shrinking turtle of a wife. Since marrying this Wu the Elder, not even an ant has dared crawl into our house! What fence is weak? What dog could get in? Every word you've spoken must be accounted for—every brick thrown must land!"

Wu Song laughed: "If my sister-in-law will truly manage things so well, that's best. Just make sure your heart matches your mouth. Very well—I'll remember everything you've said. Drink this cup."

The woman shoved the cup away and ran downstairs, stopping halfway to shout back: "You're clever enough, but don't they say 'the elder brother's wife is as a mother'? When I married Wu the Elder, I never heard of any younger brother! Where did you spring from? Relative or not, you set yourself up as head of the house! It's my bad luck that a bird has flown into all this trouble!" She ran down weeping.

After a few more cups between the brothers, Wu Song took his leave. "Go safely, brother," said Wu the Elder, and tears fell from his eyes despite himself.

Seeing this, Wu Song said: "Brother, if business doesn't go well, just stay home—I'll send money for expenses." At the door he added: "Don't forget my words."

Wu Song returned to the county office. The next morning he packed his bundle and saw the magistrate, who had already readied a cart loaded with chests and boxes, assigned two sturdy soldiers and two trusted attendants from the office—five men in all, including Wu Song. They took their leave before the hall, shouldered their weapons, guarded the cart, and set out from Yanggu County toward the Eastern Capital.

Now let us speak of Wu the Elder. For three or four days after Wu Song left, his wife cursed him without pause. He swallowed his anger and let her rage, but he kept to his brother's counsel: he made only half his usual buns each day, came home before nightfall, set down his pole, took down the curtain, barred the door, and sat indoors.

The woman grew frantic at this and cursed him to his face: "You muddle-headed thing! I've never seen a man bolt his door like he's mourning while the sun's still high! People will say our house is haunted! Listening to that brother of yours—aren't you ashamed?"

"Let them laugh," said Wu the Elder. "My brother spoke good sense. It saves endless trouble."

"Pah! You're a grown man and can't make your own decisions—you let others lead you by the nose!"

Wu the Elder waved his hand: "Leave it. His words are golden." For a dozen days after Wu Song left, he went out late and came home early, always shutting the door. The woman quarreled with him several times, but eventually she grew used to it and thought nothing more of it. In fact, she began taking down the curtain and closing the door herself before he returned. Seeing this, Wu the Elder was pleased: "This is good!"

Another two or three days passed; winter was waning and the weather turned mild. One day, as Wu the Elder was due home, the woman—out of habit—went out front to take down the curtain. As fate would have it, a man happened to be passing beneath it just then.

As the old saying goes: "No coincidence, no story." Her pole slipped from her grasp and fell, striking the man square on his headcloth. He stopped short, about to lose his temper—but when he turned and saw a bewitching beauty before him, half his anger melted away, vanishing like a puff of smoke, replaced by a smiling face.

Knowing she was at fault, the woman pressed her hands together and bowed deeply: "I lost my grip for a moment, sir. Please don't be angry."

The man straightened his headcloth with one hand while bowing in return: "No harm done, madam. Please go about your business."

Widow Wang next door had seen everything from behind the water curtain of her teahouse. She laughed: "Who told you to walk under this eaves? It served you right!"

The man laughed too: "It was my fault for startling the lady. Forgive me, madam."

"Don't take it to heart, sir," said the woman.

He smiled broadly and made an elaborate bow: "I wouldn't dare!" His eyes lingered on her; as he left, he turned back seven or eight times, swaggering away with his feet planted wide.

The woman took in her curtain and pole, closed the door, and waited for her husband.

Who was this man? He was a bankrupt-turned-rich local of Yanggu County who ran a medicine shop before the county office. A cunning fellow from youth, skilled at boxing and staff work, he'd recently come into money and involved himself in public affairs—picking quarrels, taking bribes to fix cases, framing officials. The whole county gave him wide berth.

His surname was Ximen, given name Qing, eldest of his brothers, known as Ximen the Elder—or lately, with his wealth, Ximen the Grandee.

Before long, Ximen Qing slipped into Wang's teahouse and sat down behind the water curtain. Widow Wang laughed: "Grandee, that was a fine deep bow you gave!"

Ximen Qing laughed too: "Godmother, come here—tell me, whose wife is that little beauty next door?"

"She's the sister of King Yama and daughter of the Five-Way General," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm speaking seriously—don't joke."

"Grandee, don't you recognize her? Her husband is the one who sells cooked food before the county office..."

"Not the wife of Xu the Third who sells date cakes?"

Wang shook her head: "No. If she were his, they'd make a fine pair. Guess again."

"Li the Second's wife, then—the silver-pole carrier?"

She shook her head again: "No. That would also be a proper match."

"Could it be Lu Xiaoyi's wife—he of the tattooed arms?"

Wang burst out laughing: "No! If she were his, that too would be a good pair. Guess once more!"

"Godmother, I truly can't guess."

"Let me tell you so you can have a laugh," said Wang. "Her old man is Wu the Elder, who sells buns on the street."

Ximen Qing stamped his foot and laughed: "Not the one they call Three-Inch Mulberry-Bark Dwarf?"

"The very same."

"What a pity!" cried Ximen Qing. "Such fine mutton in a dog's mouth!"

"Indeed it is," said Wang. "As the old saying goes: 'A fine horse carries a fool; a beauty sleeps beside a clod.' The Old Man Under the Moon insists on such matches!"

"Godmother, how much tea money do I owe you?"

"Not much—let it sit and we'll settle later."

"Where has your son gone off to?"

"Don't ask! He went with some traveler toward Huai and hasn't come back. I don't know if he's alive or dead."

"Why not have him work for me?"

"If the Grandee would favor him, that would be wonderful," she smiled.

"We'll discuss it when he returns." After a little more small talk, he thanked her and left.

Not two hours later, Ximen Qing was back, sitting by the curtain of her shop facing Wu the Elder's door. After a while Wang came out: "Grandee, how about some plum soup?"

"Best—make it extra sour."

She made it and handed it over with both hands; he sipped it slowly and set the cup on its saucer.

"Godmother, you make excellent plum soup," he said. "How much do you keep in the house?"

Wang laughed: "I've been a matchmaker all my life—how many husbands do I keep at home?"

"I asked about plum soup, and you talk of matchmaking! What a difference!"

"I only heard you ask if my 'plum soup' was good," she said. "I thought you meant my matchmaking."

"Godmother, since you're a marriage broker, find me a good match too—I'll reward you well."

"If your wife at home found out, this old face of mine would catch some slaps!"

"My wife is very accommodating; she's already let me take several concubines. I just haven't found one to my liking. If you know of a good woman, recommend her—even a widow will do, as long as she pleases me."

"There was one the other day who would have suited you perfectly—but I feared you wouldn't want her."

"If she's good, arrange it and I'll thank you."

"She's beautiful beyond compare—just a little older."

"A year or two makes no difference. How old is she?"

"She was born in the year of the Tiger; come New Year she'll be ninety-three."

Ximen Qing laughed: "You crazy old woman, always joking!" He rose and left.

Evening came; Wang lit her lamp and was about to close up when Ximen Qing appeared again, settling into his usual seat by the curtain, staring at Wu the Elder's door.

"Grandee," said Wang, "how about a cup of harmony soup?"

"Excellent—make it sweet."

She brought him a cup of harmony soup. He sat through the evening, then rose: "Godmother, keep a tally—I'll settle tomorrow."

"No matter," she said. "Rest well; come again early."

The night passed without incident. Early the next morning, when Wang opened her door and looked out, there was Ximen Qing pacing back and forth before it. She thought: "This fellow is circling tight. I'll smear some honey on his nose and let him lick but not taste! He's used to getting bargains from everyone in the county—let him lose a little to this old woman!"

Now this Wang, who ran the teahouse, was herself no respectable soul. She could out-talk the finest orators of old: with a few words she'd pair up lonely widows and bachelors; with a trick she'd make an arhat embrace a nun; with a scheme she'd set a heavenly king on a demon mother. Sweet talk could stir even the chaste; soft coaxing could move even the cold.

Wang busied herself lighting charcoal in her tea kitchen, pretending not to notice Ximen Qing's pacing. At last he strode into the teahouse and sat by the water curtain, gazing toward Wu the Elder's door.

"Godmother," he called, "serve me two cups of tea."

"Ah, Grandee!" she answered. "Haven't seen you in days—do sit." She brewed two strong cups of ginger tea and set them on the table.

"Keep me company over tea," said Ximen Qing.

Wang laughed: "I'm not your mistress!"

He laughed too, then asked: "Godmother, what does the house next door sell?"

"They sell steamed river eels and hot spicy mash," she said.

"You crazy woman!" he laughed.

"I'm not crazy—she has a husband of her own at home."

"Let's talk seriously," said Ximen Qing. "I hear they make fine buns. I want to order thirty or fifty—is he in?"

"If you want buns, wait until he comes back from the street and buy them then. No need to knock on his door."

"You're right." He drank his tea, sat a while longer, then rose: "Keep it on the books."

"No matter—I'll write it down carefully." Ximen Qing left smiling.

Wang watched him from her shop as he paced east, glancing back; west, peeking again. Seven or eight passes later, he came straight into the teahouse.

"Grandee, you're a rare visitor!" she said.

Ximen Qing laughed and pulled out an ounce of silver: "Godmother, take this for tea money."

"Why so much?" she smiled.

"Just keep it." She hid it away with secret glee: "He's hooked—this one will lose his feathers!"

She said: "Grandee looks thirsty. How about a cup of broad-leaf tea?"

"How did you guess?"

"What's hard to guess? As the saying goes: 'Don't ask about fortunes at the door—read the face and know it all.' I can guess the strangest things."

"I have something on my mind," said Ximen Qing. "If you can guess it, I'll wager five ounces of silver."

"Old as I am, I don't need three guesses—one will do ten-tenths. Grandee, lean close. These last two days your steps are quick and frequent. You must be thinking about that woman next door. Am I right?"

Ximen Qing laughed: "Godmother, you're cleverer than the old masters! To tell you truly: since the day her curtain pole hit me, she's stolen my very soul. But I can't find a way in. Do you have any tricks?"

Wang burst out laughing: "To be honest, my tea business is dead as a doornail—I sold one cup three years ago on the third of June when it snowed, and haven't had a customer since. I live off odd trades."

"What odd trades?" asked Ximen Qing.

"I'm a matchmaker first," said Wang with a laugh, "and I also serve as a midwife, a wet nurse, a go-between for lovers—and a procuress when needed."

"If you can bring this off for me," said Ximen Qing, "I'll give you ten ounces of silver for your coffin money."

"Grandee, listen to me," said Wang. "Seduction is the hardest art. Five things are required before it can work. First, a face like Pan An's; second, a member like a donkey's; third, wealth like Deng Tong's; fourth, patience like a needle wrapped in cotton; fifth, leisure time. These five—looks, size, money, patience, and free time—must all be present."

"To be honest," said Ximen Qing, "I have all five. My face, though not Pan An's equal, will pass. In my youth I raised a fine large turtle. My household has plenty of coin—not Deng Tong's hoard, but enough. I'm most patient; she could beat me four hundred times and I'd never strike back once. And I have endless leisure—why else would I come so often? Godmother, just arrange it, and I'll reward you handsomely."

"Grandee," said Wang, "though you say you have all five, there's one more thing that may block us."

"What's that?"

"Forgive my bluntness. Seduction is the hardest thing; even with nine-tenths of the work done, the last bit can fail. I know you've always been tightfisted, unwilling to spend freely—that alone could ruin everything."

"That's easily cured," said Ximen Qing. "I'll follow your every word."

"If you're willing to spend, I have a plan that will bring you face to face with her. But will you obey me?"

"Whatever it takes, I'll do it. What's your scheme?"

Wang laughed: "It's late now—go home. Come back in three months and we'll talk."

Ximen Qing fell to his knees: "Godmother, don't tease! Help me!"

Wang laughed again: "The Grandee is anxious! My plan is a masterpiece—not fit for the Hall of War, but better than Sunzi drilling maidens; it catches nine out of ten. Listen now. This woman was once a maidservant in a wealthy Qinghe household and does exquisite needlework. So: buy a bolt of white silk, a bolt of blue pongee, a bolt of white damask, and ten ounces of fine cotton—bring them all to me. I'll go next door, ask her for tea, and tell her: 'A benefactor has given me cloth for my burial clothes. Lend me your almanac so I can pick an auspicious day to have a tailor come.' If she ignores me, the matter's dead. If she says, 'I'll make them myself,' without needing a tailor—that's one-tenth of the way. I'll invite her to my house. If she says, 'Bring it here and I'll do it at home,' refusing to come over—the matter's dead. If she happily says, 'I'll do it and cut it for you'—that's two-tenths. If she agrees to work in my house, I'll prepare wine and snacks. The first day, don't come. The second day, if she says it's inconvenient and insists on taking the work home—dead. If she comes again willingly—three-tenths. Don't come that day either. On the third day, around noon, dress yourself neatly, come over, and cough as a signal. Stand at my door and say: 'Why haven't I seen Widow Wang these past days?' I'll come out and invite you in. If she sees you and flees—well, I can't drag her back; the matter's dead. If she doesn't move—four-tenths. When you sit down, I'll say to her: 'This is the benefactor who gave me the cloth. Bless him!' Then I'll sing your praises and compliment her needlework. If she won't respond—dead. If she answers—five-tenths. Then I'll say: 'What a blessing this lady has come to work for me! Two benefactors—one with money, one with skill. Grandee, since the lady is here, be generous and treat her to something.' You'll take out silver and ask me to buy refreshments. If she gets up and leaves—I can't hold her; dead. If she stays—six-tenths. I'll take the silver and say at the door: 'Lady, please keep the Grandee company a moment.' If she rises and goes home—I can't stop her; dead. If she doesn't move—seven-tenths. When I return with food and set it out, I'll say: 'Lady, put down your work and have a cup—the Grandee is paying.' If she refuses to sit at table and leaves—dead. If she only says she should go but doesn't stir—eight-tenths. Once she's warmed by wine and the talk flows well, I'll claim we're out of wine and send you to buy more; you'll ask me again. I'll pretend to go for wine and pull the door shut, leaving the two of you inside. If she grows angry and runs off—dead. If she lets me close the door without fuss—nine-tenths. Only one-tenth remains, and that's the hardest. Grandee, in the room, speak sweet words to her—but don't be hasty or rough, or you'll spoil all and I'll wash my hands of it. First pretend to brush a pair of chopsticks off the table with your sleeve; as you bend to pick them up, squeeze her foot. If she raises an outcry, I'll come to the rescue—but then the matter's dead forever. If she stays silent—that's ten-tenths. She's willing, and the deed is done. What do you think of this plan?"

Ximen Qing was overjoyed: "It may not earn a place in the Hall of Heroes, but it's a fine scheme indeed!"

"Don't forget my ten ounces!" said Wang.

"'If I taste an orange peel, I won't forget Lake Dongting!' When can we begin?"

"This very night you'll have word. Now, before Wu the Elder returns, I'll go over and sound her out. Send someone with the silks and cotton."

"Once this is done," said Ximen Qing, "how could I break my word?" He took his leave and went straight to the cloth shop, buying silk, pongee, damask, and fine cotton. Back home he had a servant wrap it all in a bundle, added five ounces of loose silver, and delivered it to the teahouse. Wang received it and sent the servant away.

She opened her back door and went over to Wu the Elder's house. The woman invited her upstairs.

"Lady," said Wang, "why don't you come have tea at my poor place?"

"I've been unwell these past days and too lazy to go out."

"Do you have an almanac in the house? Lend it to me—I need to pick a day for cutting clothes."

"What are you making, godmother?" asked the woman.

"It's this old body of mine—full of aches and ailments. I fear the worst might come anytime, so I want burial clothes prepared. A wealthy man nearby took pity on me and gave me cloth—silk and damask—along with fine cotton. It's been sitting at home over a year, but I haven't been able to get it made. This year I feel worse than ever, and we're in an intercalary month now, so I want it done quickly—but the tailor is dragging his feet, claiming he's too busy. I can't tell you how hard my lot is!"

"If you don't think my work good enough, say so," said the woman. "But if you'll have me, I could make them for you."

Wang broke into a smile: "If your noble hands would do it, I'd die happy! I've long heard of your fine needlework but dared not ask."

"What harm is there? Since I've promised, I'll see it done. Take the almanac and have someone pick an auspicious day—then I'll start."

"If you're willing to make them, lady, you're a star of fortune—no need to choose a day! I had someone look before, and they said tomorrow is auspicious. I only thought cutting didn't require such a day and forgot it."

"Burial clothes especially want an auspicious day," said the woman. "Why pick another?"

"If you'll truly do me this kindness, then come to my humble house tomorrow."

"Why not just bring it here?" asked the woman.

"I'd like to watch you work, too—and I worry about leaving my shop unattended."

"If that's how it is," said the woman, "I'll come after lunch tomorrow."

Wang thanked her profusely and went downstairs. That evening she reported to Ximen Qing, and they agreed on the day after next.

The next morning Wang cleaned her house, bought thread, and prepared tea, waiting at home.

Wu the Elder ate his breakfast, shouldered his pole, and went out to work. The woman hung up the curtain and slipped through the back door into Wang's house. Wang was overjoyed; she brought her in, sat her down, brewed a rich cup of tea with pine nuts and walnuts, and served it. Then she wiped the table clean and laid out the silks. The woman measured, cut, and began to sew. Wang watched and praised without cease: "What skill! I've lived sixty or seventy years and never seen such needlework!"

At noon Wang set out wine and food—a full catty of noodles—and fed her well. The woman sewed a while longer until evening, then put away her work and went home.

Wu the Elder arrived just then with his empty pole. She opened the door and lowered the curtain. He came in and saw her cheeks slightly flushed: "Where have you been drinking?"

"Widow Wang next door asked me to make her burial clothes and treated me to snacks at noon."

"Ah! Don't eat her food—we've needed favors from her too. If she asks you to make a garment or two, come home for your meals; don't put her out. If you go again tomorrow, take some money along and buy food in return. As they say: 'A near neighbor is better than a distant relative.' Don't lose face with her. If she won't accept repayment, just bring it home and finish the work there."

The woman said nothing that night.

Wang's scheme was set; Pan Jinlian was hooked. The next day after lunch, Wu the Elder went out, and Wang came to fetch her. In Wang's room the woman took up the sewing again while Wang brewed tea. At noon the woman brought out a string of cash: "Godmother, let me buy us some wine."

"Ah! That's not right!" said Wang. "I asked you here to work—how could I let you spend money?"

"My husband told me to," said the woman. "If you refuse, I'll take the work home and finish it there."

Hearing this, Wang said quickly: "Wu the Elder is so thoughtful! Since you insist, I'll accept." Fearing she might lose her prey, she added her own money and bought fine wine, good food, and rare fruits to entertain her guest.

Now, dear reader, note this: no matter how shrewd a woman may be, nine out of ten fall when plied with flattery and kindness. After the meal, the woman sewed until evening, then went home with many thanks.

On the third day after breakfast, Wang watched Wu the Elder leave, then slipped around back: "Lady, if I may be so bold..."

The woman came downstairs: "I was just coming." They met and sat in Wang's room; she took up the sewing, and Wang served tea. As noon approached—

Ximen Qing had been counting the days. He put on a new headcloth, dressed in his finest clothes, tucked three or five ounces of silver into his belt, and came to Purple Stone Street. At the teahouse door he coughed: "Widow Wang, why haven't I seen you these past days?"

Wang recognized the signal and answered: "Who calls this old woman?"

"It's me."

She hurried out, saw him, and laughed: "I thought it was someone else—it's my benefactor! You've come just in time; step in and look." She tugged his sleeve and pulled him into the room, then said to the woman: "This is the benefactor who gave me the cloth."

Ximen Qing bowed to the woman. She put down her work hastily and returned the greeting.

Wang pointed at the woman: "The Grandee gave me silk a year ago and I never got it made—but now this lady has done it all for me! Her stitches are like loom-work, fine and tight—truly rare! Grandee, take a look."

Ximen Qing picked up the garment, examined it, and praised: "How did this lady learn such skill? It's divine work!"

The woman smiled: "Don't mock me, sir!"

"May I ask," said Ximen Qing to Wang, "whose wife is this?"

"Guess, Grandee."

"How could I guess?"

Wang grinned: "She's the wife of Wu the Elder next door. Did you forget the curtain pole that hit you the other day?"

The woman flushed: "That was an accident—please don't hold it against me."

"Not at all," said Ximen Qing.

Wang cut in: "This Grandee is the most forgiving man alive, never bears grudges—a truly good man."

"The other day I didn't know you," said Ximen Qing to her. "So you're Wu the Elder's wife! I know your husband as a hardworking tradesman who deals fairly with everyone on the street, rich or poor; he earns well and has a fine temper—a rare man indeed."

"Indeed," said Wang. "Since this lady married him, she obeys his every wish."

"My husband is a useless fellow," said the woman. "Don't mock me, sir."

"You're wrong there," said Ximen Qing. "The ancients say: 'Gentleness is the root of standing firm; stubbornness breeds disaster.' A man like your husband, so kind-hearted—'ten thousand feet of water won't leak a drop.'"

"True!" Wang chimed in.

Ximen Qing praised her a while longer and sat down across from her. Wang said, "Lady, do you know this Grandee?"

"I don't," she said.

"This is one of the county's richest men—the magistrate himself associates with him. He's called Ximen the Grandee. He has tens of thousands in wealth and runs a medicine shop before the county office. His money outshines the Northern Star, his grain rots in the granaries; red is gold, white is silver, round are pearls, bright are gems. He owns rhino horn and elephant ivory..."

Wang went on praising Ximen Qing at length. The woman bowed her head and kept sewing. Ximen Qing could hardly bear not having her then and there.

Wang brewed two cups of tea, handing one to each: "Lady, keep the Grandee company." After tea, glances began to pass between them. Wang watched Ximen Qing and touched her own face—a signal he understood well enough; five-tenths of the way there already.

Wang said: "If the Grandee hadn't come, I wouldn't dare invite myself over. First there's fate, second there's luck. As they say: 'One guest doesn't trouble two hosts.' The Grandee provides the money, this lady provides the skill. Since she's here, Grandee, be a proper host and treat her for me."

"I didn't think of it," said Ximen Qing. "Here's silver." He took out a handkerchief of coins and gave it to Wang to buy food.

"No need to trouble yourself," said the woman—but she didn't move.

Wang took the silver and left, saying at the door: "Please keep the Grandee company a moment."

"Godmother, no need," said the woman—but still she didn't stir. Fate was working; both were willing. Ximen Qing's eyes fixed on her; she stole glances back at him, liking what she saw five or seven-tenths of the way, and lowered her head to her sewing.

Soon Wang returned with fat goose, cooked meat, and delicate fruits, all arranged on plates and set on the table: "Lady, put away your work and have a cup."

"Godmother, you go ahead—I shouldn't presume," said the woman, not moving.

"This is especially for you!" said Wang. She set out everything; all three sat, and wine was poured. Ximen Qing raised his cup: "Lady, drink this full cup."

"Thank you for your kindness, sir," she said.

"I know the lady can hold her liquor," said Wang. "Do enjoy a few cups."

The woman took the cup. Ximen Qing picked up chopsticks: "Godmother, urge the lady to eat." Wang picked out choice morsels and passed them to her. Three rounds of wine went around; Wang rose to warm more.

"May I ask your age?" said Ximen Qing.

"I've wasted twenty-three years," she replied.

"I'm five years older."

"You compare heaven with earth, sir," she said.

"What a refined lady!" Wang put in. "Not only skilled with needle and thread—she knows all the classics too!"

"Where could one find such a woman?" said Ximen Qing. "Wu the Elder is truly blessed!"

"I won't speak ill of others," said Wang, "but for all the women in your household, Grandee, not one can match this lady!"

"It's beyond words!" said Ximen Qing. "I'm simply unlucky—never found a good one."

"Your first wife must have been fine," said Wang.

"Don't speak of her! If my first wife were alive, the house wouldn't be upside down as it is now. Three or five mouths to feed and no one manages anything."

"How long has your wife been gone?" asked the woman.

"Don't ask. My first wife was of humble birth but clever in a hundred ways—she did everything for me. She's been dead three years now, and my household has fallen into chaos. Why do I keep going out? Because at home I only stew in anger!"

"Forgive me for saying so," said Wang, "but your first wife never had this lady's needlework."

"My first wife didn't have her looks either," said Ximen Qing.

Wang laughed: "Grandee, you keep a mistress on East Street—why haven't you invited me there for tea?"

"That's Zhang Xixi, the ballad singer. I don't care for entertainers."

"And Li Jiaojiao?" Wang pressed. "You've kept her long enough."

"I've taken her into my house now. If she could manage a household, I'd have madeher my wife long ago." Wang said, "If someone truly suited you, would it be a problem to bring her home?" Ximen Qing said, "My parents are both dead—I make my own decisions. Who would dare say no?" Wang said, "I was only joking—where would we find one who suits you right now?" Ximen Qing said, "Why not? I just lack the luck in marriage—haven't met the right one."

Ximen Qing and the old woman went back and forth for a while. Then Wang said, "We're drinking well, but the wine's run out. Grandee, forgive my ordering you about—shall I buy another bottle?" Ximen Qing said, "There's five ounces of loose silver in my handkerchief—keep it all with you, and whenever we need more, just take from it. Keep the rest for yourself." Wang thanked him, rose, and glanced at the woman: a cup of wine had stirred her spring heart; their talk had kindled mutual desire. She sat with lowered head and did not rise.

Wang beamed and said, "I'll go fetch another bottle so the lady can have one more cup. Please keep the Grandee company while I'm gone—there's still wine in the flagon, so pour yourselves a few cups. I'm going all the way to the shop before the county office for good wine, so I'll be a while." The woman said, "No need," but she stayed seated. Wang went out of the room and fastened the door latch from outside, then sat down in the passage to keep watch.

Inside, Ximen Qing poured wine and urged her to drink. He brushed his sleeve across the table and knocked the chopsticks to the floor—and by lucky chance they fell right at the woman's feet. He bent down to pick them up and saw her tiny bound feet resting beside them. Instead of taking the chopsticks, he squeezed her embroidered shoe.

The woman laughed: "Sir, don't be foolish! Do you truly want to seduce me?"

Ximen Qing knelt: "Only if the lady will favor me!"

She pulled him up. And there in Wang's room they undressed and lay together, sharing joy like mandarin ducks at play, like phoenixes threading through flowers—clinging close, murmuring vows, tasting each other's sweetness until breath came short and sweat beaded on jade-like skin.

When their pleasure was done and they were straightening their clothes, Wang pushed open the door and came in: "A fine deed you two have done!"

Both started in fright. Wang said, "Well, well! I asked you here to sew, not to steal a man! If Wu the Elder learns of this, I'll be implicated—I'd better report it myself!" She turned to leave.

The woman caught her skirt: "Godmother, forgive us!"

"Godmother, keep your voice down!" said Ximen Qing.

Wang laughed: "If you want my silence, both of you must agree to one condition."

"Not just one—ten!" said the woman. "I'll obey anything."

"From today on," said Wang, "you'll come here every day without fail, hiding it from Wu the Elder, and keep your trysts with the Grandee. If you miss a single day, I'll tell your husband."

"I'll do as you say, godmother," said the woman.

"As for you, Ximen Grandee," Wang went on, "I needn't spell it out. The whole affair is done—but don't break your promise of payment. If you turn faithless, I'll go to Wu the Elder myself."

"Rest easy, godmother," said Ximen Qing. "I won't fail you."

The three drank a few more cups until mid-afternoon. Then the woman rose: "That husband of mine will be home soon—I'd better go." She slipped out through the back door, lowered her curtain just as Wu the Elder came in.

Wang looked at Ximen Qing: "Well? Was my plan any good?"

"Godmother, you're a marvel!" said Ximen Qing. "I'll bring you a full ingot when I get home—how could I cheat you of what I promised?"

"'I await the banner and the good news,'" said Wang. "Don't make me wait for funeral expenses after the coffin's already buried!"

Ximen Qing laughed and left.

From that day on, the woman crossed to Wang's house every day and lay with Ximen Qing, their passion thick as lacquer, their hearts glued together. As the saying goes: "Good deeds stay at home; evil deeds travel a thousand miles." Within half a month all the neighbors knew—only Wu the Elder remained in ignorance.

Now let us turn to another matter. There was a lad in the county, fifteen or sixteen years old, surname Qiao. Because his father had served as a soldier in Yunzhou when he was born, he'd been named Yunge. He lived alone with his old father. The boy was clever and made his living selling fresh fruit before the county office's many wine shops; Ximen Qing sometimes gave him pocket money.

One day Yunge found a basket of snow pears and went around the streets asking where to find Ximen Qing. A talkative fellow told him: "Yunge, if you want him, I'll tell you where to look."

"Thank you, uncle—if I find him and earn thirty or fifty coppers, it'll feed my old father."

"This Ximen Qing has taken up with the wife of Wu the Elder who sells buns. Every day he sits in Widow Wang's teahouse on Purple Stone Street—he's likely there right now. You're just a boy; you can walk right in without trouble."

Yunge thanked his informant, took up his basket, and made straight for Purple Stone Street. He walked into the teahouse and found Wang sitting on a low stool spinning thread. Yunge set down his basket and bowed: "Greetings, godmother."

"What are you doing here, Yunge?" she asked.

"I'm looking for the Grandee—to earn thirty or fifty coppers to feed my old father."

"What Grandee?"

"Godmother knows very well which one—that one."

"A Grandee must have a name," said Wang.

"The one with two characters in his name."

"What two characters?"

"Godmother's just playing games. I want a word with Ximen the Grandee." He started toward the inner room.

Wang grabbed him: "Little monkey, where are you going? A house has its inner and outer parts!"

"I'll find him inside!" said Yunge.

"Cursed ape!" she said. "What Ximen Grandee would be in my house?"

"Godmother, don't eat alone! Let me have a sip of the broth too—I know what's going on well enough!"

"What do you know, you little ape?" she snapped.

Yunge said: "You're like a horseshoe knife cutting vegetables in a wooden scoop—not a drop leaks out. But if I speak up, that bun-selling brother might get angry."

These words hit Wang's guilty spot. She flew into a rage: "Cursed monkey! Coming into my house to fart and stink!"

"I'm a little ape," said Yunge, "and you're a procuress!"

Wang seized him and gave him two hard knocks on the head with her knuckles.

"What are you hitting me for?" he cried.

"Thieving ape!" she cursed. "Raise your voice again and I'll slap you out of here!"

"Old biting worm!" he shouted. "Beating me for nothing!"

She shoved him while raining blows on his skull, driving him out into the street, and threw his pear basket after him. The pears scattered in every direction. The boy couldn't match the old harridan's strength; cursing, weeping, and walking at once, he picked up his pears from the street and shook his fist at her teahouse: "Old biting worm! Don't think you're safe! I'll tell him—and if nothing comes of it, don't believe a word I say!" He grabbed his basket and ran off to find that man.

And indeed, past misdeeds all come home to roost. This would overturn the grass in the fox's den and startle the mandarin ducks sleeping on the sand. Who did Yunge go to find? Hear the next chapter to know.