In Jinan custom, when someone falls ill, they inevitably invite a spirit medium to divine the prognosis through divination in the inner chambers. An old shaman is called, who beats an iron drum, performing gyrating, deliberately affected movements—a practice colloquially termed "spirit dancing."

This custom of "spirit dancing" was especially prevalent in the capital city. Respectable young matrons frequently participated. Cooked meats were laid out on a table, fine wine set in basins, and massive candles burned in the room, making it bright as day. The women, dressed in short skirts, balancing on one foot, would begin the "Shang Yang Dance." Two companions would grasp the dancer's arms, supporting her on either side. The woman would mumble ceaselessly, perhaps singing, perhaps praying, her articulation uneven, lacking any discernible rhythm. Inside, crude drums pounded erratically, the noise like thunder, utterly unbearable. With every beat of the drum, the woman would chant incantations whose content was unintelligible.

Soon after, the woman would lower her head and cast sideways glances, standing entirely dependent on her attendants, lest she collapse to the floor. After a moment, the woman would suddenly leap forward, rising perhaps a foot or more off the ground. The women in the room would grow suddenly stern, exchanging startled glances, all saying, "The Old Ancestor has come to dine." The woman would open her mouth and exhale, extinguishing the room's candlelight, plunging everything into pitch darkness. In the gloom, everyone stood rigid, daring not to whisper amongst themselves. The woman emitted strange cries, accompanied by the chaotic din of the drums, no one knowing what was being uttered.

After the "Old Ancestor" had supposedly finished eating, a sharp cry would ring out from the woman's mouth, vehemently calling out the names of in-laws and brothers-in-law. When the group finally lit the candles again, they saw that the cooked meat on the platter and the fine wine in the basin had vanished without a trace. The woman would then bend low, leaning toward the "Old Ancestor" to inquire about fortune and misfortune, her expression rapidly shifting between joy and worry. She would then invite questions from the assembly, answering every inquiry put forth.

If the afflicted person harbored private skepticism, the woman would immediately detect it, pointing a finger at someone and declaring, "This person shows disrespect to me; I fine you by stripping you of your clothes." The words were barely spoken before the person’s garments would instantaneously disappear, leaving them entirely naked. As for where the clothes went, they would all be found hanging from the tips of the trees outside the residence.

Manchurian women performed the spirit dance with even greater piety. If the slightest doubt arose, they sought counsel directly from the deity. During the dance, the women were formally attired, riding wooden horses and astride wooden tigers, grasping long weapons while brandishing them in the **—a ritual named "Tiger Spirit Dancing." The wooden horse and tiger appeared majestic and fierce, yet the caller's voice was coarse; sometimes claiming to be Guan Yu, sometimes Zhao Gongming descended, and so forth, with endless variation.

Once the woman was perceived to be possessed by the spirit, her features became sinister, inspiring dread. Should any man spy from the outside, his hat would instantly be pierced by the long blade. During the spirit dance, all the women of the household arranged themselves in the formation of a wild goose array, standing in a single line, their expressions solemn, their bodies trembling and constantly shivering. They dared neither indulge in frivolous thoughts nor allow the slightest lapse in focus.

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