Vengeance. Li the Chancellor was a native of Cuo County, but ashamed of his family’s poverty, he changed his registration to the Western Capital. His sons prospered under the powerful, and he himself became a great frontier official. Before his old house in the Western Capital, governors and viceroys even set up a stele to flatter him. In the fourth month, a traveler came from the north, his whole body tattooed with scorpions. He split the stele apart with his bare hand. The ground of the house cracked open and water welled out, and from that day it could no longer be lived in. The Hundred Illustrations records that western tribesmen, when seeking vengeance, would tattoo themselves with scorpions.
Jing Person. There was a man named Dou from the Two Kings Temple district, nearly sixty, who pulled a cart for a living. His household was desperately poor, yet he once found a large sum of money left behind by a passenger, guarded it, returned it, and refused any reward. In the great quake of the wuzi year, Dou was trapped in ruins. A tiny person emerged from beneath the ground, two chi tall, bringing him food and fruit every day. After fifteen days he was rescued. The Huainanzi records such a being: a jing person.
Blistered Finger. Wang was obsessed with books. Hearing that a man of the Ming had written a Supplement to Gentle Cries, a record of the birds under heaven, he searched for years without finding it. Then one day a blister rose on the index finger of his right hand. It went numb at a touch, then moved beyond his control: he seized paper and inkstone and furiously wrote in tiny regular script, fifty-three thousand six hundred and twenty-seven characters in all, before at last flinging down the brush. It was the complete text of the Supplement to Gentle Cries. At the end was written: “Presented by the Master of Five Magpies and Six Geese, for the treasured keeping of a fine friend.”
Pixiu. While crossing Mount Min, Mr. Tan came upon a collapsed peak. He ordered men to dig there and they uncovered the corpse of a panda, seven chi long and three hundred jin in weight, with iron rings through all four paws, each ring set with barbs and engraved with the seal-script words “Imperial Preserve of Dashun.” Mr. Tan did not understand what it meant. It was a pixiu. In ancient times the imperial guard once kept such beasts.
Dream Shoes. A woman from Yong named Luo Yi dreamed she was walking barefoot by the sea when three-wart swimming crabs came swarming out and fought to cover her body. Tihu said, “You will come into shoes. I fear trouble in the feet.” Later it indeed happened that a wealthy admirer from Dong’ou declared his love and gave her countless pairs of women’s shoes. She wore them daily and even in sleep could not bear to take them off. By the next year her ankles had swollen, and all the shoes lay idle.
Numen. In Jincheng there are Broad Alley, Narrow Alley, and Tight Alley, a place where the market life of Shu once held great earthly power. In Broad Alley there was a creature called Menggui, black as cloud over snow, and able to speak; people often saw it. In Narrow Alley there was Beibi, which tunneled through the earth, bore strange script on its back, and spat saliva at night. In Tight Alley there was a can-tung tree: chew its leaves and the stomach and bowels were healed, so that one could eat hotpot without falling ill. In the wuzi year the three alleys were renovated and taken over by gentry and merchants. Their numen scattered, and common people stopped going there.
Goose Intestines. Jincheng loves goose, and an officer named Bai loved it most of all. Whenever he ate it, he would first reach behind himself and pluck out goose intestines from his own rear court, then drop them into boiling oil and eat them, considering them the height of freshness. Later Bai fell ill. His belly twisted in agony, blood passed from him every day, and worms emerged from within, each four cun long. He suffered beyond endurance, lingered on for years, and finally died.
Tai Sui. In a village north of Chang’an, a tai sui appeared in the shade of the road. A wineshop cooked it and sold it, and customers praised its fine taste. Soon after, the place where the tai sui had emerged opened onto a great tomb. Ancient objects were destroyed, leaving only bones behind: arm bones three chi long and skulls as large as cartwheels. The villagers were terrified. Within three days, everyone who had eaten the tai sui died suddenly.
Cordyceps. My classmate Lu Yu excelled at football. Whenever he drew back his leg to shoot, he always struck the mark. Ten years later Lu still had the shoulders of a tiger and the waist of a wolf, yet he could no longer run; after a hundred paces he panted like an ox. A Tibetan physician from Haixi examined him, took out a single cordyceps as thick as a child’s arm, ground it up, and gave him one qian of it to swallow. In moments Lu climbed West Mountain without his face reddening. Such cordyceps cannot be had today.
Fennel. Every year on the first day of the seventh month, an old woman appears in the market town of Qionglai, wearing a purple skirt and double hair-knots. If one has a wish-stone, one may exchange it with her for a brocade sachet embroidered with twin branches. Inside are nine great fennel seeds, fragrant as dragon saliva. They can untie knots of the heart, ease depression and sorrow, and reunite lovers. Wish-stones are white, warm and smooth as jade, and are sought on the island in the middle of Qinghai Lake.