It is said that during the flourishing days of the Song Dynasty the capital city of Kaifeng was a tapestry of walls and moats. These went on for 36 li outside the city proper, with twenty-eight gates, thirty-six alleys full of brothels s and seventy-two music halls. And if there were any open spaces in between all the buildings, they would certainly be utilized as flower gardens or football grounds. The powerful and important officials lived within those city walls, needless to say, but there were also a certain number of wealthy, titled citizens, such as Squire Wang the dyeworks baron, Squire Li the pearl king, Squire Zhang the shipping magnate, Squire Jiao the textile mogul and other examples too numerous to mention.

Among this class of men was a citizen whose enormous wealth surpassed that of the Lord of the Polestar, and whose many warehouses were groaning with an excess of rotting grain. In his house were three great vaults, each full of pawned possessions. The one on the left was loaded with varied silks and satins, while that on the right was full of gold, silver, pearls and jade. Between them was a vault full of musical instruments, chess sets, paintings and antiques. Each of these warehouses had three managers. This was the home of Hu Hao, Esquire, known respectfully as Hu Dahong. He had only his wife, the matronly Lady Zhang. In earlier times this gentleman had lived alone with eyes for one purpose only. So intent had he been on making good that he had time only for minding his books and reckoning his profits and interest. As he increased his capital tenfold, then a hundredfold, the thought of children never entered his mind.

Now, Lady Zhang had this one problem: an especially severe case of jealousy and envy. She wouldn't allow the Squire to take a concubine or even to employ a maid. Ten years earlier he had stolen the favors of a slave girl of theirs, and when his wife found out she blew up and beat the poor girl half to death, threw her to a manager and had her sold off. She and her husband still bickered and argued frequently and noisily, and there was never a full month of domestic peace. And so Squire Hu never entertained the hope of having children and merely passed the days rolling in his money. Here's a poem:

The days and years flew by and before he knew it Squire Hu was fifty years old. Now, the staff of his three warehouses got together as one and pitched in with their own money to buy food and drink and prepared a fine ceremony for him, and early in the morning of his birthday they came unto him and offered a toast to his years, first the warehouse managers and then his family and servants, and all kowtowed to him. His fellow captains of commerce and industry from Kaifeng were on hand for the occasion as were his business associates and clients, and many servants arrived bearing goods from various wellwishers. Of course the servants had been ordered to prepare a feast and colorful invitations were sent out to come have noodles and wine on the happy occasion. Dear friends and relations were all there, happily exchanging toasts and speaking of their homes and children. Squire Hu's thoughts suddenly turned to his own childlessness, and an unhappy feeling edged its way slowly into his heart, until finally the feast ended and the guests all departed. Lady Zhang, who had been sitting in the other section all along, then asked her spouse to share some cups of wine with her. Squire Hu gave her a fleeting look and, overwhelmed by his thoughts, burst into tears. Mama, as she was known, drew close to him.

"Squire, you've got plenty to eat and wear and so many things to do and enjoy. And although you don't have the power and glory of a prince or minister of old you are indeed a powerful tycoon, envied and respected by so many thousands of people. And it's your birthday today, a happy time, so what's troubling you?"

"I'm not thinking of food or goods to enjoy," said Squire Hu. "Our home's got its share, but I'm worried about our childlessness. What'll become of us without a son or daughter? Why, at the feast tonight everyone chatted about their families, and all they talked about were their children. I alone was childless. Folks often say to raise children for old age and store grain for famine. Next year I'll be fifty-one, facing my sixties. Childbirth gets rarer and rarer with advancing age, and that's what's eating me up inside!"

"Over in the East Village there's an old woman name Wang who's now nursing her firstborn at forty-eight," answered Mama. "I'm just forty-seven this year, not yet that old, so why can't I give birth and nurse too? It might be that it's in our fate and we just haven't had a chance to find out yet. If I haven't had a child by the time I'm fifty and we have to take a surrogate mother to to bear your offspring that's all right with me. Oh, and another thing: I've heard that the Crown Prince was born in answer to the Emperor's prayers for child, so why can't I, one of his subjects, have my prayers fulfilled as well? Right now in the city at the Shrine of the Precious Charmbook there's a really powerful god, the True Lord Protector of the North Pole. Why don't we pick an auspicious day and time and go there to offer plenty of candles, joss and paper horses in worship to that True Lord, begging him for a child? Not especially for a boy or girl, but just worshipping and purifying ourselves before the joss stove."

She then called on the maids to arrange some hot wine and the Squire's gloom was dispelled on the spot. Husband and wife enjoyed a few cups together, cleaned up and arranged the furniture and took their rest. And a few days later just as an auspicious moment approached they sent some staff to buy incense and paper and had a horse and carriage readied in tip-top condition. With a slave girl in tow they then went to the Shrine of the Treasured Charmbook, dismounting just at the gate. Entering the Main Hall they proceeded to offer incense and then had to repeat the worship at every altar of the two chapels. In the Hall of Martial Truth Squire Hu earnestly proclaimed his date of birth and begged for a child, heavily preferring a boy so as to carry on the family line.

And so the good Squire spent his days and nights storing up and planting his seed. And he continued knocking his forehead and even his teeth on the stone floors before the altars, while Mama went on setting candle and worshipping. On and on they went praying and burning script before leaving the shrine; you can imagine what it was like.

Before long half a year had passed and their burning joss and prayers for child had become a common sight on the first and fifteenth of every month. Then one day in the middle of the twelfth lunar month it was time for the annual audit of the warehouses. Another winter was over and it was time to reckon the pawns and redemption. The warehouse managers and assistants invited their best customers for a few last transactions before settling the books, and there was no great rush at that! Now, among those warehouses the one full of antiques and curios had the thinnest accounts, and its manager was just reckoning the profit on the year's transactions when the curtain in the entrance was brushed aside and a gentleman entered wearing a fishtailed iron Daoist's crown and a black bordered flame gown. In his left hand was a basket of thorns and in his right a tortoise shell fan, while his legs were bound in leggings and fancy hemp shoes. He looked like he'd just blown in on a cosmic wind, so strange and godlike was he. Now, there are four classes of fairies and gods: those swift as the wind, those tall as the pines, those latent just like a relaxed bow and those with the voice of a bell. Just imagine the scene as that gentleman lifted aside the curtain and entered! The manager immediately recognized his extraordinary Daoist's garb and rushed forward to welcome him in, greeting the guest obsequiously and offering him a stool to sit on.

"Well, make yourself at home, your lordship," said the manager; "what can I do for you?"

"Could this be the right place for musical instruments, chess sets, books and paintings?"

"It certainly is."

"I've got a small painting I wish to pawn for a few ounces of silver, to be redeemed sometime soon of course."

"Well, terribly sorry but can I trouble you for a look so I can appraise it?"

Now, the manager had assumed that someone accompanying the visitor would be coming in with the painting, and was very surprised when the man himself reached into that thorn basket, took out a painting no more than a foot wide and handed it to him. The manager received it saying nothing, thinking only that if the man wasn't joking it had better be pretty long, five feet at least, when scrolled open on the viewing forks. Eyeing it carefully he saw only a bright little painting of a beautiful woman with three characters meaning "painted by Sengyao" at the top. It was indeed well painted but a bit small and not worth much.

"How much do you want for this, lordship?" he asked, putting the display rack aside.

"This painting is really unique, so I'd like a hundred ounces of silver for it."

"Don't make me laugh, professor. This little painting isn't even worth five or six hundred coppers. How can I give you a hundred ounces of of silver, so many times its value?"

"This is the work of Zhang Sengyao of the old Jin Dynasty, and there are few like it in the world."

"Zhang Sengyao lived over five hundred years ago, yet this picture of a beauty is alive and fresh as if painted yesterday. The world is awash in fakes with all kinds of groundless claims."

"I insist, sir, that it is authentic. But I'll settle for fifty ounces, by gosh!"

"And I can't lend you five hundred against it either!"

And on it went, the customer insisting on pawning the picture at that value, the manager unwilling and the client not about to leave without satisfaction, and before long they were exchanging unpleasantries and accusations. But then what should they hear in mid-argument but the sound of leather shoes stepping smartly, and in a moment Squire Hu himself lifted the curtain and entered.

"Have you offered the noontime incense yet?" he asked the manager.

"Yes, Squire, I have."

"Squire, I beg of you!" said the gentleman.

"Please sit down sir," answered Squire Hu, assuming all along that he was an art forger; "let's have tea."

He then watched as the manager put the painting back on the rack and once more unscrolled it. "The good teacher here insists on pawning this little painting for fifty ounces of silver and won't budge," said the manager, "but I don't dare go along with it."

"Master," laughed Squire Hu, it's a nice little painting but it isn't worth much, and certainly not that kind of money!"

"Squire, you are rushing to judgment; there's more here than meets the eye. It's small all right but there's a marvelous and profound secret in it."

"I'm listening."

"This isn't the time to talk about it. When you lend me the money I'll tell you in detail.

Squire Hu then escorted the gentleman to the study, where they were alone. "Just what sort of deep secret has it got?" asked Squire Hu.

"It can't be compared to paintings as we know them, because it was created by a fairy. Just hang it up in a secret room late some still night without telling anyone. Burn some joss, set out a couple of candles and clear your throat once, then tap on the table three times and then ask the fairy maiden in the painting to come out for tea. There'll be a blast of wind and the goddess in the painting will come down."

Squire Hu listened thoughtfully. "I'd like to believe him that it's a fairy painting," he reasoned, "but I'm afraid it won't turn out to be true."

The gentleman looked pensively at him for awhile before speaking again. "If your lordship doesn't believe it, let me just leave the painting here overnight for you to try out. You'll be able to vouch for its pawn value when I return tomorrow."

"Master, you really are serious about this! Now I'm sure you are telling the truth. May I ask your surname?"

It's Zhang, and my first name is Ying, for Oriole. I'm also known as Chongxiao Chushi, The Skysoarer."

Squire Hu nodded and came out with the customer. "Pawn the painting for Mr Zhang here!" he called out to the manager.

"Don't blame me when he never comes to redeem it!"

"You don't need to be concerned. Just write a memo at the bottom of the slip that it was done on my order." Squire Hu then invited the gentleman caller to join him in some vegetarian food and chat and together they retired to the back hall, the painting stashed away in his gown. Afterward the manager handed over the entire sum of fifty ounces of silver and the Squire saw the gentleman out the door where he bade farewell and left, and that was that.

Now, Squire Hu had submitted to Mama's control at home, so of course he couldn't come forth openly about this latest girl to appear. Moreover she was a tempting sorceress of gracefully refined beauty not often seen in recent times. How could he not throw his soul to the devil and try to bed her? How long it seemed to nightfall, and how he wished he could just knock the bright sun out of the sky with his fist! Up he went to the upstairs drumtower to nervously await the sunset, coaxing it along with his will. It was like this:

Eyes looking out for banners of a conquest Ears listening for news of a success.

Before evening he instructed a servant to tidy up the study and arrange the incense burner and the candleholders, tea server, pot and so forth. Then he thought up a scheme.

"There are a few redemptions on the books that I'm not sure about," he told Mama, "so I'll be in the office tonight going over the accounts. Why don't you tell the servants to prepare us an early dinner?"

Mama suspecting nothing out of the ordinary and had an early dinner served, and together they ate it.

"Mama, why don't you go to bed first?" said Squire Hu; "I'll be along later."

Before long the drum atop the house and the temple bells all sounded the first strokes of nightfall. Just imagine:

Squire Hu went to the study, pushed open the sliding door and entered. "All of you," he ordered the servants, "wait outside." After closing the door he lit the lamps and the fire under the teapot, bringing the water to a rolling boil. Then he took a couple of cakes of first class Longtuan tea and tossed them into the pot. Next he lit the incense burner and the two candles. Having set up the viewing rack and unscrolled the painting he found it to indeed depict a beautiful woman. The squire cleared his throat once and knocked three times on the table, and sure enough a tiny squall arose and blew across it. This poem about sums it up:

And then in the midst of that tiny storm he saw the beauty from the painting, jumping down to the table in one leap and then to the floor in another. Five foot three inches in height and lovely as flowers and jade, she was beautiful beyond description. It was like this:

The maiden just stood there and stared at Squire Hu before blessing him in a deep voice. Our lordship quickly regained his polite composure and went to the stove, poured a cup of tea and passed it to her. Then he filled his own cup and joined her. After drinking up and clearing away the cups there was nothing to be said. Another little squall arose and up the maiden went, right into the painting.

Now, Squire Hu was incomparably pleased. "Why," he marveled, "the painting really has got a spirit, after all! Well, I'd best not bother her again today. Next time we meet I won't hesitate to say some gentle words to her." He then rolled up the painting and put it back in his collection, called the servants to tidy up and arrange the furniture and went to his bedroom to sleep.

The next day Squire Hu again said he was going to work on his accounts and that he wanted his staff to serve an early supper, and once more he retreated to the study. "He worked on his books last night, too!" thought Lady Zhang. "I can't believe he's got so many accounts to do. Just what's he doing with all his idle time during the day that he's got to get so busy at night?" It all seemed too suspicious and she couldn't help but have a slave-girl carry a lantern and lead the way down to the study with herself following behind. Eavesdropping at the sliding doors they heard what seemed to be the voice of a maiden or young wife inside. Wetting the tip of her thumb with saliva she reached out and peeled back the edge of a paper windowpane and peeped inside. Well, what greeted her prying eyes but the sight of a young woman sitting across from her husband and chatting with him! Two veins of anger lit up in her, flashing from her feet on the floor to the top of her head at the door, lighting her up with a fiery rage the likes of which were unknown to the world, as if shooting up eighteen thousand feet into the night sky. Unable to restrain herself she opened the door and rushed into the study. Squire Hu was terrified.

"What are you doing, Mama?" he asked, rising to his feet with Mama's anger clearly focused upon him.

"You old beggar!" she screamed. "You idiot! What a fine thing you've done!"

Amidst the commotion and rage the fairy maiden disappeared into the squall and back up into the painting.

"Meixang!" Mama commanded the slave-girl. "Come, help me find her! Don't be afraid!"

Squire Hu remained silent. "Turn this studio upside down and inside out if you like," he thought, "but you'll never find her."

Unable to find the girl Mama then became even angrier. Craning her neck about she spotted the painting on the wall of that same beautiful woman. She then tore it down and began to burn it over the lantern, throwing it down in flames upon the floor. Feeling the full force of Mama's awesome anger Squire Hu didn't dare go against her. By now the painting was blazing furiously, with sparks and bits of hot paper swirling round and round near the floor. Now they were swirling around Mama's feet and she jumped back a couple of steps, fearing her clothes would be set alight. But the swarm of sparks pursued her ankles and suddenly a tongue of flame belched forth from her mouth! Mama screamed and fainted to the floor in horror. And here's a poem:

Squire Hu had fallen on his hands and knees in fear and trembling and called the slave-girl to help him up. Having regained his balance he went to the kettle and poured some hot water to revive Mama. Back on her feet at last she then settled safely into a chair.

"You idiot!" she cried bitterly, "Look at the fine mess you've made. Have the maids carry me back to my room so I can rest."

Mama slept till daybreak and awoke feeling a bit unsettled. In the days that followed her brows appeared lower and her eyes dreamy and slow, her breasts became enlarged and her belly swollen with child. Squire Hu was delighted except for two details. For one, the fairy painting had been sadly burnt by Mama, and he could never again see that maiden's face. And for another, he feared the day when the gentleman would to redeem the painting. What would he do? Well, enough of that for now.

The days and nights flew by. Nearly a year later Mama was in labor. Squire Hu went to the family's high hall to burn incense and make pledges to Heaven in return for a safe childbirth. Suddenly he heard a commotion at the door, and the voice of a servant calling him.

"The gentleman who pawned the painting is at the door."

Hearing this Squire Hu suddenly felt as if his heart was tied in knots but could only receive him.

"Good sir, another year has passed since we last met. I feel a bit awkward telling you this but my wife is in labor just now so your visit really is good fate."

The gentleman laughed. "I've got some medicine for your wife's pain," he said. Then reaching into that old thorn basket of his he took out a little dried gourd shell vial of medicine, poured out a red pill, and telling him that it was to be taken with plain water handed it to the Squire who carefully wrote it all down. "Your home is too busy now so I'd better not bother you any longer. I'll come again some other time and we'll have a prayer meal together." And having so spoken he left, not even having brought up the matter of the painting.

Well, let's forget about that gentleman for now. Squire Hu gave the pill to Mama and not long afterwards a girl was born, bringing him great joy.

Caught up in the capable arms of the midwife, she had to have her "sanzhao" bath at three days of age, for as folks say this assures a hundred years of life. Then after a week had passed they named her Yong'r, "Li'l Leaping Flame", after the flames that surged through Mama and bellowed out of her mouth just before the baby was conceived. And later they found the Chinese character to be unsuitable so they changed the "Yong" to another of that pronunciation meaning "eternal"..."Eternal Child".

Time flashed by and before they knew it little Yong'r was seven years old. She'd been born ever so pure and gentle looking with such an innocent face and rich black hair, a truly beautiful woman just like the images of the young Goddess Guanyin riding the dragon. Her parents both treated her like the finest treasure in the world, and Squire Hu invited a professor to the house to instruct her in reading the classics. Now, this scholar was named Chen Shan, and was known to all as a fine and loyal old man with years of experience as an educator. He was welcomed in their home to the praise and reverent appreciation of the hopeful and trusting parents and exhorted to do his best. What followed was like this:

But let's put that story aside for awhile and get back to Grand Eunuch Lei. Missing his bride he had dispatched men all over the land without turning up a trace. Fearing that Zhang Ying would be terribly angry he called on him personally, hoping to perform a big favor in compensation. Now, Zhang knew better than to get involved in this affair and received Lei with outward respect. He knew that although Lei had a fawning relationship with Prime Minister Ding, he was no real confidant of the Crown Prince. The Emperor Zhenzong was getting on in age, and was having seizures; there were times when he couldn't preside over court, and although Lei might seriously have wanted to help Zhang he now had nowhere to use his influence. Moreover, Zhang Ying had heard a message in ghost talk from the little sorceress, to the effect that she'd been reincarnated as Squire Hu's baby daughter. And he'd had some other dealings with spirits, too, so he felt that advancing his worldly career was not so important for the time being. So after another last night in that garden he slipped out of the city walls of the capital. For one thing he wished to find Holy Auntie, and for another he wanted to learn more about the birth of Squire Hu's daughter.

Well, time flew by and soon it was the first year of the Kaiyuan reign. Zhenzong had passed away and the Crown Prince had ascended the throne as the Emperor Renzong. Lei Chonggong was put in charge of building the mausoleum and was accused by Hanlin academician Wang Zeng of having improperly moved the Imperial tomb, and ugly charges spread out to include Prime Minister Ding Wei. The dragonlike countenance of the Emperor Renzong was angered and he banished Ding Wei to a faraway district as a private soldier. Grand Eunuch Lei was immediately executed and his home and property was all confiscated as official property, even the Garden of Tranquillity. Zhang Ying had lived there for a long time but had seen this trouble coming before he slipped out, and by this time he was far away, gone back to haunting the countryside.

One day he wandered into Puzhou, Shandong Province. It was late spring, in the fourth lunar month, and a really terrible drought was in progress. All the counties had been seeking Daoist wizards to pray for rain, but none were to be found. Word now had it that was a certain Daoist nun who had erected an altar in Boping County where she was making rain with her charms. "That must be Holy Auntie," thought Zhang Ying. "I'll get right over there and see what she's up to!" And so he quickly found his way to Boping County. Just consider: