Yu Jing, styled as Xiao Song, a scholar from Yidu, was studying late one night at Liquan Temple. Suddenly, he heard a woman’s voice from outside the window praising him: “The young master truly applies himself.” Yu Jing thought, In the depths of the mountains, where would a woman come from? As he pondered this, the door was pushed open, and in walked a woman of unparalleled beauty, clad in a long green gown. Yu Jing instantly knew this maiden was no ordinary human. When he inquired after her origins, the woman laughed, “Do I look like a man-eating demon to you, Master? Why the persistent questioning?”

A fondness bloomed in Yu Jing, and they became intimate. As they undressed for bed, he noticed her waist was exquisitely slender, barely enough to span with one hand. Just as dawn approached, the woman departed gracefully, and from that night forward, she visited every evening.

One night, after sharing a drink, the woman spoke with elegant refinement, seemingly well-versed in music. Yu Jing commented, “Your voice, Miss, is so delicate; if you were to sing, it would surely be soul-stirring.” The woman demurred, “I dare not show off; I fear I would soil the young master’s ears.” Yu Jing pleaded again and again. The woman finally relented, “It’s not that I am unwilling, but I worry if others knew. If you truly wish to hear me sing, I shall oblige. However, it can only be a soft hum, enough for you to grasp the meaning.”

As she spoke, she lightly tapped the edge of the bed with her delicate foot and sang: “The tree sparrow, the wujiu bird, beckoned me out at midnight’s turn. I blame not my silk shoes for being damp, only fear that my beloved waits alone.” Her voice was as faint as a buzzing fly, barely discernible. Listening intently, the melody was winding and piercing, capable of shaking the very soul.

When the song concluded, the woman opened the door to peer out, saying, “We must guard against listeners outside the window.” She circled the room once, finding nothing amiss, before re-entering. Yu Jing asked, “Why are you so fearful, my lady?” The woman smiled wryly, “The saying goes, ‘Lustful female ghosts are always afraid of being discovered.’ It refers to people like me.” Subsequently, they retired to bed, but the woman grew visibly distressed, murmuring, “Must our fate together end here and now?”

Yu Jing was confused and asked, “What is wrong?” The woman replied, “My heart will not cease its pounding; I fear my fortune has already been exhausted.” Yu Jing tried to comfort her, “A racing heart and jumping eye—that is natural for mortals. Why worry so?” The woman was somewhat reassured, and they lingered in an embrace. As the sky began to pale, she pulled on her clothes to leave, but paused at the door, turning back. “For some unknown reason, I feel a deep dread. Please, Master, escort me out.”

Yu Jing agreed, rose, and accompanied her to the door. The woman instructed, “Wait for me far down the path. Once you see me vault over the wall and land safely, then you may return to the room.” Yu Jing replied, “Very well.” He watched her glide down the corridor until she vanished from sight.

Silence returned to the surroundings. Just as Yu Jing was about to re-enter his room, he heard a shriek of terror from the woman, piercingly miserable. Yu Jing hurried in the direction of the sound, looking all around but seeing no one. The cries seemed to emanate from the eaves; looking up, he saw a spider on a roof beam, large as a bullet, its forelegs clutching prey, toying with it. The victim emitted weak, mournful squeaks, struggling desperately.

Unable to bear the sight, Yu Jing quickly snagged the web, tearing away the sticky silk layers from the trapped creature. It was a green hornet, barely alive, clinging to death. Yu Jing carried it back inside, placing it on the desk. After a long while, the hornet slowly revived, crawled onto the inkstone, plunged its body into the ink, then emerged, moving its four legs across the tabletop to write the character “” (Gratitude). With a stretch of its wings, it flew out through the window.

From that night on, the woman never returned.