Wang Shixiu, a native of Luzhou, was vigorous and strong, capable of lifting a hundred-jin stone mortar; both he and his father excelled at cuju (ancient Chinese football). Eight or nine years ago, while crossing the Qiantang River, Wang's father sank into the river's heart—his fate unknown.

Eight or nine years later, Wang Shixiu traveled to Hunan on business. He anchored for the night on Dongting Lake. A bright moon was rising, making the clear lake resemble a bolt of white silk. As he admired the moonlit vista, five men suddenly emerged from the lake, carrying a massive mat which they spread across the water, covering an area half a mu wide. They laid out an array of dishes and fine wine upon the mat; the clinking of cups and plates sounded deep and muted, unlike earthly ceramics. Soon, three sat down on the mat while the other two stood by as attendants. The host wore yellow, and the other two wore white. All three wore strange, square red caps that were hard to make out clearly in the dim moonlight.

The two servants were clad in brown robes—one resembling a young boy, the other an old man. The man in yellow was heard saying, "The moonlight tonight is superb; we must drink a generous measure." The man in white replied, "This scene, this setting, bears a strong resemblance to the banquet King Guangli held on Lihua Island in days past." The three encouraged each other in drinking, their cups frequently meeting. At times they conversed, but their voices were too low to distinguish clearly. The guest on the boat lay hidden, daring not to move. Wang Shixiu studied the old man closely and realized his features were strikingly similar to his father's, yet his voice did not match his father’s.

As the second watch neared its end, one of the hosts declared, "Taking advantage of this bright moon, it is perfect to strike the ball for sport." As soon as the words fell, the young boy retrieved a round ball from the lake, large enough to embrace, seemingly filled with mercury, transparent inside and out. The three hosts rose one by one. The man in yellow called out to the old man to join the game. The old man kicked out a foot, sending the ball flying several zhang, where it soared into the air before landing on the deck with a thump. Wang Shixiu’s sporting spirit was uncontrollably stirred. He lunged forward to kick it, but the ball felt strangely soft. With just a light touch, it split open, soaring far out toward the center of the lake. Midway, it burst into radiant light, like a rainbow spanning the heavens, or a comet plunging into the lake. The lake water churned and boiled, hissing with bubbles, only settling down after a long while.

The hosts at the table were furious, cursing in unison, "From where does this stranger come, ruining our pure pleasure!" The old man laughed, "It is not a ruin, not at all. This is my family’s inherited Meteorite Crutch Technique; well kicked." The man in white angrily retorted, "We are already vexed, you old thing, what’s there to be happy about? Go immediately with this little brat and help us capture the chief culprit, or I will break both your dog legs with one club."

Hearing this, Wang Shixiu knew there was no escape. He mustered his courage, drew his saber, and stood defensively at the bow of the boat. Before long, the boy and the old man rushed toward him, wielding weapons. Wang Shixiu focused his gaze; the old man was indeed his biological father. He cried out, "Old Father, your son is here!" The old man was terribly alarmed, exchanging a sorrowful look with him.

The boy turned and left. The old man urged, "Child, hide quickly, or both our lives will be forfeit." Before he could finish speaking, the three hosts boarded the boat and stormed in, all pitch-black in appearance, with eyes as large as pomegranates. The man in yellow seized the old man and dragged him out forcefully. Wang Shixiu fought desperately to retrieve him; the boat rocked violently, and the mooring ropes snapped. Wang Shixiu severed the enemy’s arm with a swift cut. The man in yellow screamed in pain and fled in disarray. A man in white rushed forward, and Wang Shixiu sliced off his head with one strike, tossing it into the lake heart, where it splashed loudly upon impact. The other man in white, fearful of death, jumped into the water with a plop and vanished without a trace.

Wang Shixiu conferred with his father, preparing to depart under the cover of night. Suddenly, a giant mouth rose from the lake surface, deep as a dry well. With a mighty suction, the surrounding lake waters converged, all drawn into the immense maw. A great roar echoed out, and water jets sprayed forth, causing turbulent waves. All the thousands of vessels on the lake bucked and shook simultaneously, throwing the passengers into chaos.

Wang Shixiu remained undaunted by the danger. He leaned over, grabbed a stone drum weighing several hundred jin from the boat, and hurled it into the giant mouth. Water splashed everywhere with a sound like thunder, and the waves gradually receded. Wang Shixiu then threw in a second stone drum, and the storm completely subsided.

Father and son, having survived the calamity, Wang Shixiu suspected his father might be a ghost. The old man explained, "I did not die. Back then, nineteen of us sank into the Qiantang River, all devoured by fish demons. Because I was skilled at cuju, I narrowly survived. Later, three fish demons offended the Dragon King of the Qiantang and relocated to Dongting Lake to seek refuge. That round ball you kicked just now was a fish bladder." The father and son were reunited, overflowing with joy, and they set sail immediately that night. The next morning, Wang Shixiu found a fish fin, about five chi long, lying on the deck. His heart understood instantly: the fish fin was the severed arm of the man in yellow.