Translated from the Original by Wong Chin Foo
INTRODUCTION
The Chinese thoroughly believe the Darwinian theory of human evolution from lower animals. The evolutionary maxim of occasional reversion to degraded ancestral types is also a part of every Chinaman’s creed. “Pon Ko Wong,” the creator of heaven and earth according to Celestial theology, is constantly watching the actions of all his creatures, even to the smallest. He prolongs their lives and advances their destinies when their actions deserve it. If an ape of the forests has been exceptionally good and kind to his fellows and does not destroy life, intentionally or otherwise, his own life is prolonged until he breaks a law and is then punished by death. Should he continue ten thousand years innocent and good he may transform himself into a higher order of being until he reaches the rank of man, and then of a god. But a transgression sends him back to his animal condition.
The sharks, whales, tortoises, serpents, and many other creatures are given this privilege, provided they live harmlessly for ten thousand years. Many of the national stories of China are founded upon these legends, corresponding to the European traditions of wehr-wolves and mermaids. But whatever powers these Chinese monstrosities possess, they are always limited to their own domain. There are whole cities and empires in human shape at the bottom of the sea, according to Chinese sages and romancers, which are creatures of the deep transfigured by long virtue. Yet they can not live upon the land. One must dive to the ocean bottom to find them. And the land animals who have metamorphosed into human form are closely restricted to their proper realm.
The following story is universally believed by the Chinese—to such an extent that the principal figure in it was deified (as was Jos, the historical warrior), a few centuries ago, upon the breaking of the bounds of the Great Yellow River, along whose banks are many temples and images of Poh Yuin Ko. This story is one of the favorite subjects of the famous “Kiang Ko Jin”—those wandering minstrel tale-tellers who entertain listening crowds, particularly during the festivals of La Bo that end and begin the year. The month of merry-making at that time closely parallels the Christmas and New Year holidays of the West. But the Chinese Christmas celebrates the departure of the gods, while the Christian Christmas honors the coming of one. Upon the fifteenth day of the twelfth moon the gods all ascend from earth to heaven for a grand convention of deities, and remain away until the middle of the next moon. Then the Middle Kingdom, released from all hideous and avenging divinities, whose watchful jealousy determines human fate, enjoys a vacation from the reign of the gods. Festivities continue for a month. Pastries, lined with nuts and sweetmeats, are the common diet. Dancing, song and games transform two-thirds of Asia to a carnival scene. And to the groups of people clustering under red lanterns in the open air, the roving minstrels tell many a story of gods and men, without restraint, for there are then no gods to overhear the things said of them. Gather about me in quiet, friends, and I will, like them, tell you the strange story of Poh Yuin Ko.
I
In the village of San Yon, near the Poh Yuin mountains, in the province of Kwong Si, lived a retired mandarin of the fourth grade, Whey Su Toy. His home was a rich estate that he had bought with his wife, and many a happy year had blessed his house. But now he was getting old, like his once beautiful wife, and cares began to settle upon the aged couple because of their only son, Whey Goon, for he was nineteen years of age and had not yet married. Whey Goon was talented, handsome, and a loyal child of his worthy parents, but the time had come when the son of a wealthy family should have wedded and taught his wife the duties of filial love toward his aged father and mother. They constantly implored him to choose a girl for his wife. Always he listened dutifully to their pleadings, and bowed submission to the desire of his fond parents, but never said whom he would marry. The mystery of his refusal to be wedded deeply pained the hearts of Whey Su Toy and his wife, as no reason could be obtained for his reluctance and no promise of a time when he would fulfill the customs of his people. And yet the charms of lovely maidens seemed no less sweet to him than to all other youths.
“His twentieth year is nigh,” sobbed his gray mother to her husband one night, as they were talking of their son, “and then he will be called a bachelor. Even our own relatives will shun and despise him. They will say that we can not find him a wife. They will say no family will give him their daughter. They will only say that his reputation is so and so. Oh, High Heavens, how shall we get him married without force?”
Whey Su Toy listened and thought, but said nothing. He rose and slowly paced the floor, drawing great puffs of smoke from his long-stemmed water pipe. Presently he put down his pipe and went out into the cool darkness of his gardens to soften his reflections. All was still under the glittering heavens, and the perfume of the flowers floated like an unseen cloud through the air. But his mind was troubled like a peach orchard shaken in the wind. On the other side of the blossoming grounds, at the ancestral Ying, were the chambers of his son, shining with the light of his presence, yet filled with loneliness when they should be happy with a bride. In his musings the father approached the cloisters of Whey Goon, and through the closed door he was surprised to hear soft voices within.
“My son was alone but half an hour ago,” said Whey Su Toy to himself. “I have seen no one enter the gate, which I know was locked. How came his visitors here?”
With puzzled thoughts he gently neared the lattice window, which was glazed with thin sheets of paper. With the tip of his tongue he wet the paper, and silently made a small hole in the window. Looking through, he was no less delighted than as astonished. There sat Whey Goon, the youth whom no girl could captivate, in a large mahogany chair. The book which he had been reading was dropped on one side, and a beautiful young maiden, with arching almond eyes and creamy skin, dressed in lustrous silks, was sitting on his knees talking to him with musical sweetness, and it was evident that her conversation was highly interesting.
“No wonder, no wonder,” grunted the happy old man, as he hastily retreated to report the discovery to his wife. “No wonder he refused to select a girl from our acquaintances when he is in love with such a beautiful one. But why did he not tell us? No family could refuse his request and ours to marry into the name and estate of Whey Su Toy.” Still chuckling with joy at the happy solution of their troubles, he rushed into his wife’s presence. For several minutes she could not understand his sudden change, so heartily did he giggle and laugh, shaking his sides with delight. At length he spoke and told her what he had seen.
The old lady was incredulous.
“How can it be possible, papa,” she said, “when neither I nor any of the servants have seen any one enter, and so attractive a young girl could not enter the walls of this house unobserved?”
“But, mother,” replied the happy old gentleman, “Love is a very secret thing, you know, and can walk through stone walls. Could he not have bribed the servants? Our eyes are old, and young love does many wonders.”
“But who can she be?” queried the still doubting wife. “Have you ever seen such a girl about here? Know you any man who has such a daughter?”
“How could I? Though I am old I am only a man. How can a man see the daughters of other men? Can he enter the forbidden chambers? That is the business of women, to find each other out and gossip your hours away.”
“That is true, papa,” said Madame Whey, rising from her low blue-cushioned seat. “I will visit Goon’s room and question both of them. He must give me reasons for hiding the secret from his loving mother who has been dying of anxiety, and he must tell me her family.”
II
Now the manner of Whey Goon’s discovery of his beautiful beloved one was this. On the twenty-third day of the third moon, the great Zoo Yoon (ancestors) holiday, Whey Goon, like all other dutiful children of great families, went out to the graves of his august ancestors to offer sacrifices for their peace, to burn incense sticks and papers, and to leave dainty morsels for the spirits of the dead. For seven generations his fathers and mothers had been buried on the plains near the mountain of Poh Yuin. Thither, with all the young of the village, went handsome Whey Goon, with leisure steps, carrying a willow basket of roasted chickens and other meat offerings. There were many roundly mounded graves to decorate, and some were almost obliterated by age, except for the crumbling tombstones. It was late before he made the obeisance and the Ko Tow (knocking the forehead) before the last of the graves and made the little offerings, and as he packed his basket for home it began to rain. On the way he noticed a beautiful young girl coming toward him. Her tiny feet were encased in pretty red satin slippers that could not have measured more than two inches. She was fashionably dressed in gorgeous silks. Her raven black hair contrasted with her soft white skin tinted with pink like the precious lining of shells. Her little cherry lips were parted enough to show two rows of perfect teeth. The sparkling of her eyes made Whey Goon tremble with admiration. He faltered with unstable steps and dumbly gazed in rapture at so fair a vision. She was followed by a smaller and younger girl who seemed her servant, and carried a small white basket like his own. She passed by him as if journeying toward the mountain, but Whey stood mute, riveted to the ground as if pierced by a lightning stroke.
“What can so lovely a beauty do in this rain, on the lonely mountain road, with neither sedan-chair nor umbrella?” thought Whey Goon. Then rushing to overtake her, he called out, “Ceau Zean!” (“Sweet Miss”).
At this she turned slightly toward him and looked with sternness at Whey Goon, as if to say, “How dare you disturb me?” But seeing the comely youth bowing politely her lips and eyes changed to a fascinating smile.
“I see, Ceau Zean,” continued her brave admirer, “that it rains now. Please accept this umbrella,” handing her his own protection from the storm.
“Oh, how kind you are, Goon Goon (unmarried youth),” replied the blushing girl, as she took it with her perfumed hand, “but you will be wet yourself.”
“Never mind. Rain is good for a man. May Ceau Zean proceed peacefully on her journey,” answered Whey Goon, bowing to leave her.
And now the maiden was as agitated as the youth. With a smile like the opening of a lotus bud, she said, “Thy august name, please?”
“My humble house is called Whey, and I am named Goon. And thine?”
“Poh Yuin Ko,” she softly answered. “Whey Ceon Goon may get his umbrella by calling to-morrow evening at sundown at my house,” she continued, blushing like a peach flower.
“Where, Ceau Zean?” asked the delighted youth.
“My house is at Nan Ling Poh, reached through San Qui Tow.”
This name astonished Whey Goon, for no living man had ever been able to enter Nan Ling Poh. Vast forests surrounded it. The only way was by dangerous precipices, along a chasm called San Qui Tow, meaning “Death’s Mysterious Alley,” for it was inhabited by frightful monsters. Many men had found death there, but none ever penetrated the horrible pass to the lonely mountain and returned.
“Why, men never come back from there,” gasped Whey Goon.
“That is because they do not know how to go and come,” replied the woman, calmly. “When you go through San Qui Tow, if any one calls you, no matter how familiar the voice, do not answer, nor even look around, and you will safely reach my home. Reveal the secret to no one. Only my own family know it, but your kindness leads me to confide in you. You can come or not as you choose. If you come to-morrow evening I shall send the umbrella to you.”
Whey Goon bowed his promise to call upon her, and with interchange of eloquent glances and smiles they separated. How could any youth refrain from being captured by so godlike a creature? How could he know that her fresh features that seemed so young were thousands of years old?
III
Whey Goon’s bed was sleepless that long night, and the day traveled at slow palanquin pace. As soon as the west devoured the sun, he went to the village Diz Jow, or barber, and had his head, eyelids and ear-openings shaved and a new braid and tassel attached to his queue. The thick soles of his silk shoes were newly whitewashed. Then he set out upon his mountain journey to obtain his umbrella, for an umbrella is sometimes highly valued by a youth.
It was fully fourteen li (four miles) to Nan Ling Poh, and all the way was crooked, wild and dangerous. Through the dense forests he boldly jogged until he entered the famous mountain pass whose deep cañon was rightly named “The Mysterious Alley of Death,” for every venturesome tourist or farmer who had gone there had never been seen again. Not even the bones were found. It was supposed that great dragons fed on them. It was certain that at the bottom of that long chasm a snake-like trail wound among yawning caverns, shaded by thick woods, and fresh footsteps could always be seen there. Had Whey Goon known the horrible things connected with this gulch in the memories of old residents it is doubtful if he would have hazarded the journey, especially at night. But lovers know not caution. As his still steps carefully followed the trodden trail all was silent as the dead. Even the flocks of night-birds, that darted through the grim moonlight above him or moved among the black branches of trees, seemed to be obeying a command of quiet. To brace his boldness he began to sing aloud the national love song of China, the “Q Yan Ko Neon”:
“Yan vact ho kee yaen tei beer
U te von low yaen sho ai yow,
How kee ko koo neen Oi fai,
Kee lain lat pot tren see ya lai.”
Here he was interrupted. His mother called him by name among the trees to his left. Whey Goon stopped to answer her, but remembered the girl’s warning, and knew it was only an allurement. With trembling legs he trotted on faster, commencing again the love song. Presently he heard noises as if made by a shower of hail-stones in the dense woods around him. Then he heard voices: “Whey Goon! Why answer you not your own mother’s call?” and “I am thy friend and would aid thee,” and another, “Let him alone, he must be one of us in the secret.”
Regardless of all he plunged ahead. The hissing and hissing into the strange noises were succeeded by strange spectres. Upon the road just in front of him appeared a band of fantastic creatures with human heads and bodies of wild beasts. There were tortoises, and serpents having human faces and animal bodies. Whey Goon began to fear that the lovely girl was a siren plotting his destruction. But he bravely advanced and the entire company bowed politely in silence as he passed. A great, black boa with a man’s head flourished its monstrous tail out of his way. Every hole was the hiding place of some uncouth form, and all poured out to view in wonder the intruder who had learned the passport. Had he spoken one word he would have been divided among a hundred maws.
Tremblingly he climbed through the chilling chasm toward the mountain-home of Poh Yuin Ko. At last passing through a graceful little grove of Shoon Pok (a sacred pine) he beheld a white marble mansion gleaming in the starlight like a structure of moonbeams. On the southern slope of the mountain, in front of the palace were fine grand old firs in a majestic line, like royal guards. About the marble edifice was a huge square wall with a jet black gate adorned on either side by a great stone lion.
A shower of cold perspiration wet his face as Whey Goon gently knocked at the gate.
The little servant of the day before opened the door and eyed him curiously.
“Is this Miss Poh Yuin Ko’s mansion?” inquired Whey Goon.
“Yes, sir,” returned the tiny attendant. “Is she in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anybody else in the house?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is my umbrella in?” impatiently snapped the youth, provoked at the monotonous answers with no invitation to enter.
“Yes, sir,” the little girl replied again and ran back into the house. Soon she returned and said, “Whey Ceon Goon, my mistress is waiting to receive you at your pleasure.”
The great ebony gates were swung open by a venerable gigantic servant who evidently was master of the house, though he said not a word. Through a paradise of flowers and rare plants, through hillsides of enchanting fragrance and fountains musically gurgling in streams of crystal, captivating even the moonlight to their embrace, through avenues of luscious fruit that shone in yellow among myriads of dwarf trees—through these the little maid led Whey Goon with dilating eyes to the doorway of the palace. There Poh Yuin Ko stood to receive him. The tender looks with which she greeted him and the eager devotion with which he followed every movement of her beautiful form told unspeakable tales of love.
IV
While the queen of the weird mountains is conducting her heroic lover through her home we may silently follow them and note its marvelous beauties. So lavish a wonderland must descend from a royal lineage, any one could see. There were heirlooms and treasures coming from ages too remote to trace. Even Poh Yuin Ko could not explain their origin if she would, for her parents died many cycles ago, when she was very young.
The palace, gorgeous and grand as it is, seems chiseled from a single stupendous block of white marble. The halls, of polished marble, gleam with inlaid agate and malachite. The tables and seats are all of delicate green jade, shaped like trays and barrels, and carved in exquisite designs. The upholstering has quaint patterns, more ancient than the most treasured royal cushions. Bamboo mats, of rainbow colors, illumine the floors. Instead of paintings on the walls hang great clusters of fresh flowers and fruit, suspended by red silk cords. In the main parlor presides an immense bronze figure of Buddha, surrounded by lesser idols, and before it stands a sacrificial altar, also of solid jade.
The apartments used by Poh Yuin Ko herself are most astonishing of all, for they seem fashioned as by a queen of nature. Her bedstead, with elaborate carvings, is made from one piece of purest marble, and covered with a profusion of silk textures. The chairs are ingeniously wrought of leaves and reeds, and the floors yield softly to the feet in a depth of silken mats. Six young girls remain in this room playing reed instruments in delicious melodies as quaint as the sighing of winds through a wilderness of rushes. The music is ever changing in an endless variety of enchanting lullabies and symphonies. Now and then the fairy-like players rise from their jade seats and move about in pretty revolutions, changing places so deftly that they seem to be scores instead of only six, quickening the music to match their lively paces. In the dining-hall rise tempting stores of grains, fruits, and vegetable tables, but not a smell of meat, for meat or wine never enters here.
It is not surprising that Whey Goon was infatuated with the queen of this curious palace. She was arrayed in silken robes, as blue as the unclouded sky, and embroidered with jewels. The great boots were radiant diamonds. The hood upon her forehead was decked with rubies and pearls like the crown of an emperor. With modest simplicity Poh Yuin Ko gently placed her tiny white hand glittering with gems into that of the enchanted youth, and led him coquettishly toward a sumptuous settee where the tiny maid was bidden to serve tea for his refreshment. Whey Goon was still timid, with a vague feeling of hallucination and dread, as if he had unwittingly climbed into the chambers of a goddess and would be punished for the outrage. But Poh Yuin Ko reassured him with tender conversation.
“I thank you for your kindness,” said Whey Goon, as the tiny teacups scattered his fatigue and fright.
“Ceon Goon, for what?” asked the beautiful girl.
“That secret.”
“Indeed,” smiled she. “Perhaps I should thank you for traveling so far. You have shown, most noble one, that you are brave as well as kind.”
“It would be happiness to die for one so charming and good.” The tea had now fanned his love to a passion that was not daunted by the magnificence about him.
At these words, which sank like an arrow into the heaving bosom of the lovely girl, she blushed, and her eyes were fastened on the floor in silence. There she shyly spoke. “Well, it is a secret I have never confided to any one but you. I know not why I felt sure that you would keep it and come. Now I know I can trust you fully.”
“I cannot thank your Sweetness for her distinguished regards. But who were the individuals I met at the base of the mountain?”
A knock at the door prevented the answer. Poh Yuin Ko rose to admit the tall gray man with a tray full of refreshments. With her own hands she prepared a green jade stand and laid the tempting repast before Whey Goon. His attention was absorbed by the delicious viands, the weird music that entered from the adjoining room, and the splendors of the place, and he forgot his question.
They ate sweetmeats and fruits, and drank delicious juices. It was past midnight when he rose as if to return home. At this motion the beautiful girl begged him to remain until the next day, and the moisture in her eyes showed her earnestness.
“But the old folks would die of anxiety,” said Whey Goon, “for I told them not where I was going.”
Poh Yuin Ko had never known the love of parents, but being well educated, she knew it would be a violation of the sacred laws of the sages to persuade a man to offend or worry his father and mother.
“I must, then, yield,” she replied. “But to-morrow evening, if you wish to come, I will bring you in my own carriage, if you will not reveal me or my secrets.”
“I would delight, fair one, to come as often as I may, and all secrets will be treasured in my heart.”
“Noble Ceon,” said she, “it shall be so. Close now your eyes, and open them not till I bid you.”
Whey Goon shut out the splendor from his eyes. There was a swift whirring of wind about him, and a tossing sensation, but Poh Yuin Ko seemed still sitting beside him, with her hand in his.
“Now open,” said her sweet voice.
Whey Goon was astounded to find himself standing in his own room alone, his candle, burning as usual where the servant placed it by his bed, looking as if it had been long consuming.
“Have I dreamed?” said Whey Goon to himself. “I should be asleep in bed, for the candle has burned low.”
But his white-soled boots still showed the mud of that hideous cañon, and his mocequa still bore the cluster of fragrant mountain flowers that her dainty fingers had attached to his coat.
“Perhaps she is a spirit. But spirits do not have such perfumed hands as the one I held. A monster? Impossible, or she would not have recognized the duties of a son. She must be a deity seeking to reward the good. But a goddess would not show love to a man. She has wonderful powers and beauty. What is she? Well, I care not. I love her. I love her more than all the world. Whether she be beast, human, or spirit, or all three, I will love her the same. Is there any man or woman who is not also an animal and a ghost?”
V
The next evening, Poh Yuin Ko suddenly appeared to him in his room, as she promised. The dainty prolongings of their greeting showed they were already skilled in the laws of love.
“Are you ready now, my hero?” sweetly asked the enchantress.
“Yes, my pretty one,” said Whey Goon; “and I have told the old folks that I expect to remain out all the evening, so they will not fret.”
“That was very kind, dear Ceon. Now close the eyes.” A swift rushing of air passed by, and they were in the mountain palace. “Now waken, my Noble.”
This time Whey Goon was introduced to all the inmates, and shown through the whole palace, grander than any mandarin’s mansion that he ever saw. He concluded that his charmer was the daughter of either a monarch or a fabulously wealthy merchant. Such lavishness of riches could not be inferior to the Emperor’s grandest palace. To be sure, the vegetarian diet was unusual to Whey Goon. His palate relished roasted chickens and pigs, ducks’ livers and feet, sharks’ fins, and many other fleshy dainties. And wines and spirits to his taste, good, yet they were not admitted to her household. But the infinite varieties of breads, preserves, roots, and fruits solaced him. He would be content to live there always, even though he could learn nothing of her ancestry.
In a few days they were married, for Poh Yuin Ko was queen of her mountain, and could act regardless of the delays and ceremonies of the lowlands. Their wedding was very simple. Holding each other by the hand they knelt before the towering bronze Buddha, and the gray old attendant waved three green boughs, of fir, pine and oak, each three times over their heads. Then they rose and embraced each other thrice, and for kisses each tried to bite the other’s neck. After this conclusion of the ceremony they sat on a long jade table and were bounteously served with a feast of delicacies, while all the time quaint reed music and pretty movements of the players surrounded them with sweet sounds. Their happy wedded life was spent entirely in the mountain palace, but only the dark hemisphere of time was theirs together, as Whey Goon was at his parents’ home throughout the day.
VI
Upon tip-toes did the old lady and her dear husband slip to the window of Whey Goon’s chamber, and through the same little aperture they peeped. But no one was to be seen. Even their son had gone.
“That is very strange,” said the perplexed father. “I know I saw Goon and a pretty girl there a few minutes ago. Where could they have gone?” They entered the room. The light was there, the bed untouched, and all in orderly condition, but neither boy nor girl. They sought the outer gate. It was securely locked as usual. They woke the servants. Nothing could be learned from them except that they fastened the doors and fixed Whey Goon’s room for his use every night.
“You must have been deceived, papa,” said the old lady.
Whey Su Toy shook his head and said nothing. He took a lantern and tried to find his son among the flower bushes and through the yard. As he returned unsuccessful to the house he said: “Mother, it is a vision from the gods. I know now that Heaven says our boy will be married soon and to a very beautiful girl. I know that I saw him holding a most handsome and cultured young lady in his lap. He is probably now at her home.”
The old couple then thoughtfully retreated to their own room to await the morrow when they would learn all from the boy.
VII
That evening as Poh Yuin Ko and Whey Goon were happily talking, she suddenly began calculating upon her finger-tips and said in excitement:
“Why, this is the ninth day of the ninth moon. I should not have gone out, for it is the sacred memorial day of our family, when I ought to have remained indoors.”
Again she rapidly counted upon her fingers, and her face was pale as she said to the frightened Whey Goon, “My lord, an old man saw you and me together in your room. Who is he?”
Whey was white as milk. “It must be my father, formerly Mandarin of Dan Foo Yoon. If he saw us there will be trouble.”
“Do not be alarmed. I will manage it,” said she, and left him.
Soon she returned and asked: “Do you know any unprincipled rich man who might buy this palace? If so, bring him here to-morrow. I will sell it to him, and we will move to a great city, in a fine house, where we will invite your parents. When they see us living happily in luxury they will forgive us both.”
“Capital,” replied Whey Goon in delight. “You are as wise as you are beautiful. I know a mean pawnbroker, immensely rich, Ching Ming. He cheats men, women and children out of their possessions and is hated by all. But how shall I get him here?”
“Give him this little arrow. It will pass him safely, or any one who has it.”
Ching Ming gloated in the opportunity of loaning money to a fair young lady on her costly mansion. Even the dragon’s chasm frightened him not, and when he saw the palace he was inwardly boiling with envy of it.
Poh Yuin Ko adroitly exacted from him a sum many times as large as he first offered, and then increased it by giving Ching Ming an absolute sale of the palace and grounds.
Ching Ming went among all his friends to raise the enormous sum, saying the mansion and grounds were richer than the emperor’s, and they would combine in a syndicate to sell it to him at a great advance.
With this Poh Yuin Ko bought a rich estate in the beautiful city of Soo Chow, hundreds of li away, and there they made their home with the happy blessing of Whey Goon’s parents.
When Ching Ming woke the next morning in his mansion, he found himself sleeping in a vast cave. His palace had faded into a mountain cliff. His soft bed of silk was a pile of grass. The elegant furniture was transformed to boulders. Only the five great fir trees remained. All else was wild nature.
Poh Yuin Ko would give no account of her family, or her wealth, either to Whey Goon or to his parents, but they were satisfied with her beauty and goodness. Her happy marriage with Whey Goon lasted for many years. Two sons were born to them. Poh Yuin Ko made them many beautiful toys. Their kites were always shaped in queer forms with curious faces on them, many having the countenances of strange creatures which, instead of bewildering, they were very glad to fly among men in the cities, and could never be roughly treated, for they had souls that struggled hard to be human, and would indeed some time be beautiful men and women.
VIII
Upon the fortieth anniversary of their marriage a grand banquet was given by Whey Goon and his wife. All the leading citizens of Soo Chow were present to congratulate them and to enjoy their hospitality. It was a merry celebration, and to please the guests their ordinary innocent diet of fruits and vegetables was augmented by meats of all kinds, as well as wines and spirits. Some of the dignitaries who honored the occasion insisted that the hostess, still petite and beautiful as ever, share the whole course of the feast with them, partaking of the crisp chickens’ wings and the white slices of pork, and drinking their health in orange wine and rice brandy. During her whole life she had never touched meat or fermented drink, for they had been forbidden her long ago, but to please her friends she now freely indulged. In fear of something untoward, like she hastened to her chamber and threw herself in a dazed condition upon her elegant couch. Her husband followed his beloved one, and entered her room with vague feelings of concern.
Merciful heavens! Instead of his beautiful wife, upon the carved bedstead was the head and neck of a monster white serpent, whose long body coiled horribly all about the room. Poh Yuin Ko had been transformed by one transgression back to her original self—the great serpent of the Poh Yuin mountains, where for thousands of years she had reigned supreme among monsters. Her husband, the good Whey Goon, gasped in fright and fell dead upon her body, awakening her to hideous motion. Hearing a noise the feasters rushed in. One of her sons seized an axe, saying the monster had killed his father, and with a single frenzied blow severed her tail. Hissing in agony the serpent plunged out and away, away like an arrow to the Poh Yuin mountains.
And ever since, when the memory of her lost tail torments her, she thrashes about in the mountain, and her tortures cause the waters of the Great Yellow River rising there to overflow and drown the people about Soo Chow. And the people erect temples along the banks of the Great Yellow River to pacify her, where her images may be found called by the names Moo Mai Lung Wong, or The Short Tailed Goddess.
