Feng Weng of Guangping County had a son named Xiangru; both father and son were scholars holding the Xiucai degree. The elder Feng, nearing sixty, was a man of rigid integrity, yet his household was desperately poor. Within a few years, both his wife and his daughter-in-law had passed away from illness, leaving him to shoulder all the domestic burdens himself.

That night, Xiangru sat quietly beneath the moon when he suddenly saw the maiden from the east neighbor’s house peeking over the wall. He peered intently and saw a girl of exquisite beauty, a slight smile playing on her lips. Xiangru beckoned to her, but she neither approached nor retreated. After repeated pleas, the girl finally climbed a wooden ladder and tumbled over the wall into his yard. They shared a bed, and when he asked her name, the girl replied, “I am the neighbor’s daughter; my name is Hongyu.” Xiangru became deeply enamored with her, and they swore an oath never to forsake one another.

From then on, the maiden visited every night, and their joy lasted for half a year. One night, old Feng rose to step outside and heard a woman’s laughter emanating from his son’s room. He was instantly enraged, shouting, “Beast! Do you even know what you are doing? Our family fortunes are fallen, yet instead of striving diligently, you engage in this licentious dalliance! If this were discovered, your character and reputation would be utterly ruined. Are you tired of living, indulging in pleasure day after day?”

Hearing this, Xiangru knew his error and knelt to repent. Old Feng’s anger had not yet subsided as he cursed Hongyu: “As a woman, you disregard wifely virtue, willingly sinking into depravity, and now you come here to lead others astray. Should this matter ever come to light, both our families will be brought to shame.” After a torrent of abuse, he stormed back to his sleeping quarters.

Hongyu wept, “Your son’s father is right to scold me; I was in the wrong. Our fate together has reached its end.” Xiangru replied, “Since my father is here, I dare not act on my own accord. If you truly have feelings, please bear with me for a little longer.” Hongyu’s words were resolute: “We have no contract arranged by a matchmaker, nor a command from our parents. How can we presume to be intimate without these foundations and still expect to grow old together? There is a suitable young lady nearby whom you could court and marry.” Xiangru sighed, “I am destitute; who would agree to marry me?” Hongyu said, “Return tomorrow night for another meeting; I will devise a plan for you.”

The maiden indeed returned the next night, producing forty taels of gold to present to Xiangru. She said, “Sixty li from here is Wucun village, where there lives a Miss Wei, eighteen years of age. Her parents are waiting for a high price, and she remains unmarried. If you call upon them and offer a significant bribe, harmony between the phoenix and the dragon is certain.” With that, she took her leave.

Xiangru went inside to discuss marrying with his father. Feng Weng said, “It is right for a grown man to marry, but alas, we have no money. Old Man Wei is greedy for wealth and not easy to deal with.” Xiangru replied, “I will try my best.” Feng Weng nodded, saying no more.

Xiangru borrowed a cart and horses, hired a few servants, and went alone to meet Old Man Wei. They sat and conversed. Old Man Wei, seeing Xiangru’s distinguished appearance, was pleased; upon learning that Xiangru descended from a noble lineage, he was even happier. His only worry was that Xiangru’s betrothal gifts might not be generous enough.

Sensing the old man’s hesitant phrasing, Xiangru understood. He poured out every bit of his wealth, placing the forty taels of gold entirely upon the table. Only then did Old Man Wei break into a wide smile, immediately drafting the marriage contract and setting the date for the unions. Xiangru entered the inner room to pay respects to his future mother-in-law and noticed the modest furnishings. Miss Wei was hiding behind her mother, stealing glances at him. Though dressed simply in homespun cloth, her demeanor was radiant and her features perfectly formed; Xiangru rejoiced inwardly.

Old Man Wei insisted Xiangru stay the night, saying, “Young Master, there is no need for you to arrange the welcoming procession. Wait until I have prepared the dowry and I will personally deliver my daughter to your doorstep.” Xiangru agreed and took his leave. Upon returning home, he concealed the matter from his father, reporting instead, “Old Man Wei is reasonable and not simply obsessed with money; he has agreed to betroth his daughter to me.” Upon hearing this, Feng Weng was uncontrollably joyful.

On the wedding day, Old Man Wei did indeed deliver his daughter. After the marriage, Miss Wei managed the household with diligence and thrift, was devoted to her in-laws, and the couple lived in harmony, respecting each other as guests. Two years passed, and Miss Wei gave birth to a baby boy, whom they named Fu’er. Soon after, during the Qingming Festival, the couple took their son to the ancestral mountain for rites. On the road, they encountered the official, Master Song. Master Song held the rank of Imperial Censor, but his character was vile. Upon seeing Miss Wei’s beauty, he instantly conceived a desire to possess her. He dispatched men to inquire about the information of Xiangru and his wife, thinking, “Feng Xiangru is just a destitute scholar; if I bribe him with money, I can surely claim the beauty as my own.” He then visited their home and openly stated his intentions.

Xiangru’s face darkened upon hearing this. He thought, “This man Song has great wealth and power; I cannot oppose him head-on. What should I do now?” After a period of contemplation, he temporized: “This is a major matter, and I cannot decide immediately. Give me three days to consider, and I will give you an answer in three days.” In his heart, he had already resolved: “The only course now is to take the whole family and flee, hiding in the mountains forever.”

Master Song shook his head and laughed, “I can only give you the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. Decide now whether to take my offer or refuse it; why the hesitation?”

Xiangru suppressed his anger: “If that is the case, please allow me to enter the house to consult with my father.” He hastily excused himself and hurried into the inner room to discuss countermeasures with Feng Weng. Feng Weng gritted his teeth and said, “This Song fellow has gone too far! Humph, let me go and confront him.” He rushed out, glaring at Master Song, gesturing wildly toward heaven and earth, and hurling endless curses.

Master Song’s rage flared; with a sweep of his hand, the thugs in his mansion rushed forward and pinned down the father and son. After a brutal beating of kicks and blows, the two lay groaning in pain and injury, crying out piteously. Miss Wei, hearing the commotion, rushed out carrying the child to see what was happening, but she was forcibly seized by the thugs and dragged away. During the struggle, the baby fell to the ground, crying loudly. Fortunately, a kind neighbor provided aid, and the family narrowly survived.

Being young and strong, Xiangru could walk with a cane after a few days of recuperation, but Old Feng was so consumed by fury that he refused to eat, spat up blood, and died.

Overcome with sorrow, Xiangru wrote a petition and beat the drum to appeal his case in the magistrate’s court, but the officials were corrupt and colluded; the result was predictable. Miss Wei, being forcibly possessed by Master Song, could not bear the humiliation and committed suicide. Upon hearing the news, Xiangru felt a suffocating sense of injustice with nowhere to vent it. He often thought of assassinating Song, but he worried about the numerous guards and the difficulty of success, and moreover, he had an infant to raise and could not simply sacrifice himself for nothing. He could only mourn day and night, tossing and turning sleeplessly.

One day, while consumed by self-pity at home, a man suddenly arrived to offer condolences. The man had a thick beard and a broad face, and Xiangru did not know him. When asked his origin, the man said, “You have the blood debt of a murdered father and the shame of a stolen wife—do you not wish for revenge?” Xiangru suspected he might be one of Master Song’s lackeys and dared not confide in him, responding vaguely. The man became furious, his eyes blazing, and he stalked out resentfully, muttering, “I thought you were a gentleman, but you are merely a coward afraid of death. Your actions are contemptible.”

Seeing that the man’s expression did not seem feigned, Xiangru finally spoke frankly, pleading for help: “Good sir, please do not leave! My enduring this humiliation and clinging to life is solely because I cannot abandon my infant son. I know you are a man of integrity; could you possibly look after my only child? I will go now to fight that man Song to the death.”

The man replied, “Raising an infant is a woman’s task; it is not something I can do. You are right to entrust your child to someone, but you need not worry about that. You take care of the child yourself; as for revenge, leave that to me.”

Xiangru was deeply grateful, bowing his head repeatedly like pounding garlic, but the man let him kneel without even glancing at him, then took his leave swiftly. Xiangru rushed out to ask his name, but the man called back, “If I fail, you won’t need to hear my complaints; if I succeed, you won’t need to thank me. So why bother knowing my name?”

After the man departed, Xiangru mused, “Whether the matter succeeds or fails, I will inevitably suffer consequences. The best course is to follow the thirty-sixth stratagem.” With this thought, he picked up his son and fled.

That night, while the entire Song household slept soundly, someone scaled the wall and entered the residence. The killer murdered Master Song and his two sons, and also took a daughter-in-law and a maidservant. The Song family reported the massacre to the county yamen. The magistrate was terrified, thinking, “Imperial Censor Song and Feng Xiangru have long been enemies; the murderer must be him.” He immediately issued warrants for Xiangru’s arrest. Coincidentally, Xiangru had fled far away with his son and his whereabouts were unknown. This only solidified the magistrate’s guess, and he ordered the runners to scour the mountains and seas until the principal culprit was apprehended.

The runners spread a vast net, searching until they reached South Mountain, where they suddenly heard a baby crying. They immediately discovered Xiangru’s hiding place, clamped iron chains on him, and dragged him back to report to the magistrate. As for the child, he was simply abandoned in the wilderness. Xiangru, seeing this, was overwhelmed by bitterness and indignation. When brought before the magistrate, the official demanded, “Why did you commit murder?” Xiangru protested, “It is a grave injustice! I deal in the night while I am dead; I emerge in the day, and I was holding an infant—how could I possibly scale walls to kill?”

The magistrate retorted, “If you didn’t kill anyone, why did you flee?” Xiangru was speechless and could offer no defense. The magistrate ordered him imprisoned. Xiangru cried out, “My death is of no consequence, but what crime has the orphan committed? Why must he be so cruelly discarded?”

The magistrate stated coldly, “You killed the Imperial Censor’s son; I kill your son in repayment—what complaint have you?” Xiangru remained silent. In prison, he endured endless tortures but steadfastly refused to confess to the murder.

That night, the magistrate lay in his study when suddenly there was a sharp ding, as if struck by a sharp instrument against his clothes, making a distinct sound. He was greatly alarmed and cried out; his entire household woke in fright. Lighting candles to investigate, they saw a gleaming, sharp knife stuck fast in the wooden wall, driven in several inches deep and impossible to pull out. The magistrate’s soul fled in terror; he broke out in a cold sweat, pondering, Who wants to kill me? He searched all around but saw no one. Uneasy, he considered, “Perhaps Feng Xiangru is wrongly imprisoned, and someone is seeking justice for him? Well, Master Song is dead anyway; I might as well go with the flow and spare Feng Xiangru’s life.” Thus, he unlocked the cells, released the prisoner, and sent Feng Xiangru on his way.

When Feng Xiangru returned home, the rooms were bare of rice, leaving him utterly alone amidst the desolate walls. He survived through the charity of his neighbors, managing to eke out a meager existence. He felt relief that his great vengeance had been served, but grieving the tragic disaster that nearly wiped out his family, he wept uncontrollably. Recalling his impoverished life and the severance of his family line, he often broke down into uncontrollable sobs in deserted places. Six months passed this way, and the affair of the murders quieted down. Feng Xiangru petitioned the authorities to reclaim his wife’s bones and reburied her, grieving nearly to death. He would toss and turn on his empty bed, intending to take his own life.

As he was resolved to die, a knocking suddenly came from outside the door. He listened intently, and faint murmurs mixed with the soft whimpering of a small child drifted from beyond the door. He hurried up and peered through the crack; it seemed to be a woman, trembling, and he cautiously opened the door. The woman said, “The young master’s great injustice is cleared, and your health is sound—a matter for joyous congratulations.” The voice was familiar, yet in his haste, he could not recall who it was. Under the candlelight, he looked closely: it was Hongyu, holding a small child in her arms, giggling playfully.

Seeing his old acquaintance, Feng Xiangru held Hongyu tightly and wept aloud, forgetting to ask about the child’s origin. Hongyu comforted him with tender words through his grief. After a while, she gently pushed him away and pointed to the child, saying, “This is your son; do you remember him?”

Feng Xiangru was overjoyed, his eyes fixed intently on the child. Seeing his features exquisitely drawn, so similar to his own appearance in youth, he laughed, “Fu’er, it truly is you. You are alive? Auntie Hongyu saved you, didn’t she?”

Hongyu nodded in affirmation and explained, “To tell you the truth, Young Master, I am no mere neighbor’s daughter; I am actually a fox spirit. One night while cultivating in the valley, I heard Fu’er crying in the tall grass, so I adopted him. Now that you are safe from disaster, I have brought Fu’er to reunite your family.” Xiangru wept his thanks. The child nestled closely against Hongyu, displaying clear affection, clearly regarding her as his birth mother, but being too young, he had forgotten the past and no longer recognized his own father.

Before dawn, Hongyu stood up, saying, “I must leave.” Feng Xiangru fell to his knees by the bedside, sobbing uncontrollably. Hongyu laughed, “I was just teasing you. Now that your fortunes are to be rebuilt, it will require early rising and late resting to achieve success. I will not abandon you, Young Master.” She rolled up her sleeves and headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Feng Xiangru worried that their poverty would prevent them from sustaining themselves, but Hongyu laughed, “You just focus on your studies diligently; leave the household chores to me. Rest assured, I won’t let you starve.” She took out the gold and jewelry she carried, rented several dozen mu of arable land, and hired laborers to work it. She weeded, planted vegetables, and mended the house and roof as a daily routine. Neighbors heard of Hongyu’s virtue and often dropped by to help with the farm work.

After half a year of this, the household flourished, and their life grew better day by day. Xiangru was immensely grateful, saying, “Surviving that catastrophe was entirely thanks to my wife’s bare-handed effort. However, one matter remains unsettled, and I do not know how to proceed.” Hongyu asked with a smile, “What is it? Tell me.”

Feng Xiangru replied, “The examination period is approaching, but my Xiucai status has not been restored.” Hongyu laughed, “The other day I sent four taels of gold to the academic prefect; your name is already reinstated on the registry. There is no need to worry about this. If we had waited for you to speak up, we would have missed the opportunity.” Xiangru offered repeated thanks.

Shortly thereafter, Feng Xiangru succeeded in the imperial examinations and passed as a Juren at the age of thirty-six. His family was wealthy, his fields stretched out continuously, and his residence was spacious. Hongyu’s figure was slender, as if a gust of wind could whisk her away, yet she managed all the heavy and laborious household tasks with effortless grace. Even in the deep cold of winter, her hands remained smooth and jade-like. She claimed to be twenty-eight, but looking at her appearance, she seemed barely twenty.