Chang An-dong possessed talent and a widespread reputation, yet his disposition was frivolous and disrespectful of propriety. Whenever he went out for spring excursions into the countryside, the paths would be filled with young women, whom he would often trail, glancing left and right, his conduct utterly unrestrained.

Just before the Qingming Festival, Fang Dong went out for an outing and encountered a small carriage, draped in embroidered scarlet curtains, escorted by several maids on horseback. Among them, one servant girl rode a small pony; her beauty was unparalleled, something he had never witnessed in his life. He drew closer to observe, and saw that the carriage curtain was slightly ajar, revealing a young lady inside, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in vibrant rouge, possessing a beauty that defied description.

The moment Fang Dong laid eyes upon her, he was dazzled and spellbound, unable to tear himself away. He followed the carriage closely, sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, sometimes ahead, unwilling to depart.

The young lady, witnessing his brazen behavior, became furiously angry and commanded her maid, "Lower the curtain! Who is this vulgar rogue continually spying on us?"

The maid let down the curtain, glared fiercely at Fang Dong, and snapped, "The one in the sedan is the wife of the Seventh Master of Furong City, returning to her maternal home for a visit—she is no common village woman! Who permitted you to be so presumptuous and insolent?" With that, she bent down, scooped up a handful of dust, and flung it directly onto Fang Dong.

Smoke and dust billowed up, stinging Fang Dong’s eyes. He immediately tried to rub them, tears streaming down his face. When he managed to clear his vision, the carriage had vanished. Startled and perplexed, he returned home filled with melancholy.

Back home, Fang Dong’s eyes felt painfully dry and gritty. He summoned someone to carefully examine them and found a thin film growing over his eyeballs. After one night, the condition worsened: the film thickened until it was as thick as a copper coin. His right eye was particularly terrible; the film grew wildly, coiling like a spiral. He sought out physicians and consumed countless prescriptions, yet not a single remedy took effect.

A few days later, the affliction spread, and Fang Dong was completely blinded. He felt profoundly dejected and reflected ruefully on his past actions. It was then someone told him, "The Scripture of Brightness can cure all ills; perhaps you should give it a try."

Fang Dong nodded, quickly fetching a volume of the sutra. He ordered his page boy to recite it day and night, listening with true devotion. Initially, there was little effect, but over time, as he heard more Buddhist teachings, his state of mind elevated, and gradually his heart became unburdened. After a year, Fang Dong achieved enlightenment regarding Buddhist principles and transformed into a truly refined gentleman. Although his eyes remained sightless, he no longer cared in the slightest.

At noon one day, Fang Dong was sitting quietly, cultivating his nature, when he suddenly heard a faint buzzing whisper near his left eye, as if from a tiny person: "It is pitch black; this is terribly uncomfortable." In his right eye, another small person responded, "It's suffocating in here; we might as well go out for a stroll and clear our minds."

Before the words were finished, Fang Dong felt a tingling itch in his nostrils. Soon after, it seemed something crawled out, flapped wings, and flew away. After a long while, the two little figures returned, once again emerging from his nostrils, and went back to rest within the scholar’s eyes.

The little person near the left eye remarked, "It has been a long time since we visited the pavilion garden; I see those pots of Pearl Orchids have all withered."

Fang Dong had always loved orchids. Before he was blinded, he had cultivated many flowers and plants in his pavilion garden. Hearing this, he was greatly alarmed and quickly called for his wife to ask, "Why have all the orchids in the rear garden withered?"

His wife looked at him, full of confusion, "Your eyes cannot see, how do you know the orchids have all withered?"

Fang Dong impatiently retorted, "Stop questioning and go look in the garden quickly! See how many orchids are left!"

His wife obeyed and went to inspect the rear garden. She returned and reported, "I am sorry, all the orchids are dead; not a single one remains."

Fang Dong sighed deeply, "The inhabitants of my eyes certainly did not deceive me."

His wife asked, "What inhabitants of your eyes?" Fang Dong recounted the entire story truthfully. His wife was astounded. She fetched a chair, sat down facing her husband, and remained perfectly still, determined to catch a glimpse of what these little people looked like.

Not long after, two tiny figures indeed flew out of his nostrils, each as large as a soybean. They soared gracefully on their wings, flying farther and farther until they gradually became indistinct.

Presently, the two small figures returned, hand in hand, landing gently on Fang Dong’s face before crawling like ants into a hole, disappearing back into his nostrils.

This continued for two or three days, when the little person from the left eye declared, "Every time we go out, the passage is so winding and circuitous, it is quite inconvenient. We should just carve a new door for ourselves."

The little person in the right eye agreed, "That’s a good idea, but the walls are too thick; breaking through won’t be easy."

The left-eye figure replied, "No matter, let's try. If we succeed, we can all live together from now on—how wonderful that would be!"

Fang Dong’s mind was fuzzy, and he hadn't fully grasped their meaning, when he felt a sizzling sound inside his left eye socket, as if something was scratching and clawing within. Then, with a soft crack, it seemed something had been torn apart.

A moment later, Fang Dong opened his eyes and looked around. The tables and chairs were clearly visible; he could see everything perfectly. Unbeknownst to him, his sight had been restored.

Fang Dong was overjoyed and rushed to tell his wife. She was equally delighted. She looked into her husband's eyes for examination and saw that the membrane over his left eye was split, revealing a gleaming black iris that inexplicably contained two pupils. His right eyeball remained spiraled as before, unchanged.

Fang Dong suddenly understood; he knew in his heart: the two little people had forced open the membrane between his eyes and settled into his right eye socket, choosing to live together. That was why his left eye regained its sight, while his right eye remained permanently blind.

Although Fang Dong lost the use of one eye, his vision with the remaining single eye was no less effective than that of a man with two, perhaps even clearer. From then on, he devoted himself to self-cultivation, restraining his behavior, and earned praise from everyone.