The petty vendor Liang Youcai, a native of Shanxi, had no wife, children, or property, lodging instead in Jinan. On this day, he joined fellow villagers on an excursion to Mount Tai. It was the height of April, and the mountain was thronged with devotees, the incense smoke thick and fragrant. Hundreds of men and women knelt beneath the altars, watching others offer incense and silently making their vows—a practice known as "kneeling incense."

Liang Youcai looked around and spotted a young woman amidst the crowd, about seventeen or eighteen, exquisitely beautiful. His heart leaped with delight. He then disguised himself as a pious pilgrim, knelt down, and used the opportunity to draw near the girl. Secretly, he extended his palm and lightly brushed her calf. The girl frowned, turned back, her expression annoyed, but she refrained from making a scene, merely shifting her body away from Liang.

Liang Youcai was undeterred and pressed closer, bothering her again. Sensing his ill intent, the girl stood up and bolted for the door. Liang Youcai pursued her outside, but the girl had vanished. Disappointed and dejected, he turned back. On his way down, he unexpectedly encountered two women—one old, one young. The younger one was the very girl, and the elder seemed to be her mother. The two were chatting and laughing when Liang overheard the old woman say, "It’s good that you bowed to the Goddess of Mount Tai, child. I pray the Goddess blesses my daughter with a worthy husband. This old woman asks for nothing more than a son-in-law who is filial; that will suffice for all my remaining wishes."

Liang Youcai eavesdropped, inwardly thrilled. He stepped forward to strike up a conversation, inquiring about the women’s origins. The old woman introduced herself as "Madam Yun, and my daughter is Cuixian, our home is forty li west in the mountains." Liang Youcai remarked, "The mountain paths are difficult, and you are not young, Elder Madam, while your sister here is delicate. How will you manage the journey back?" The old woman sighed, "It is getting late; we shall have to seek lodging at my nephew's place."

Liang Youcai seized the moment: "Just now, Elder Madam mentioned choosing a son-in-law, not rejecting one based on poverty or low status. I am still unmarried. Would I be acceptable?" The old woman asked her daughter for her opinion. Cuixian remained silent. After being asked several times, Cuixian finally said, "This man’s conduct is dissolute, his temper fickle, and his fortune shallow. Your daughter is unwilling to marry him."

Hearing this, Liang Youcai vehemently defended himself, swearing an oath to heaven: "I am inherently simple and honest, certainly not a profligate youth. I beg Elder Madam to see clearly." The old woman nodded, her expression brightening, and she laughed, "Very well. Since the young master’s character is sound, I shall decide for my daughter and betroth her to you." Cuixian was displeased upon hearing this, but a mother’s command was absolute, and she could do nothing.

The old woman lightly patted Liang Youcai’s shoulder a few times as a sign of approval. Liang Youcai grew bolder. He paid to hire two sedan chairs to escort the two women, walking beside them himself, humble as a servant. Whenever the road grew rough, Liang Youcai would instruct the chair bearers, "Carry them slowly; don't jostle them so much." He was meticulous, considerate, and ingratiatingly attentive.

Not long after, the group arrived at a village. The old woman invited Liang Youcai to be their guest, and her brother and sister-in-law came out to welcome them. The old woman called out, "Elder Brother, Elder Sister-in-law," then pointed at Liang Youcai, introducing him: "This is my intended son-in-law; his character is excellent, and he is destined by fate to be with Cuixian. There is no day like today; let the young couple be wed this very evening." The uncle was overjoyed and immediately brought out fine wine and delicacies to treat Liang.

Before long, Cuixian emerged, freshly made up. After the bride and groom finished the ceremonial bows, the aunt cleaned the nuptial bed and urged the couple to retire. Inside the room, Cuixian spoke, "I know you are not a virtuous man, sir, but I yield for now under my mother's order. If you conduct yourself honorably from now on, perhaps we can remain together for a long time." Liang Youcai mumbled his assent.

The next morning, the old woman told Liang Youcai, "You return first; my daughter and I will follow shortly." Liang Youcai went home and tidied up the dwelling. The old woman did indeed escort her daughter over. Upon entering, however, he found the room empty, devoid of everything. He sighed, "How can one live in such poverty? I shall return first and see about sending some assistance."

The following day, several men and women delivered clothes, money, and dining utensils, piling them high in the room. They ate nothing and left immediately, leaving behind only one maidservant.

From then on, Liang Youcai’s needs for food were met. He spent his days gambling with other ruffians, gradually exhausting the provisions until he was penniless. Then, he began eyeing Cuixian’s belongings, stealing her dowry jewelry from time to time. Cuixian repeatedly warned him, but Liang would not listen. Growing increasingly irritated by his wife’s nagging, Cuixian had no choice but to guard her possessions closely, as if warding off a thief.

One day, a certain rogue visited. Upon seeing Cuixian’s beauty, he was stunned as if gazing upon a celestial being. He joked to Liang Youcai, "You are clearly blessed with great fortune; why worry about poverty?" Liang Youcai, confused, asked, "Why do you say that?" The rogue replied, "I just glimpsed your wife; she is like a fairy. If sold as a maidservant, she would fetch a hundred liang of silver; as a courtesan, a thousand liang. If you, brother, possessed a thousand jin, would you still fret over gambling money?" Liang Youcai said nothing, but he heartily agreed in his mind.

When he returned home, he complained to his wife about their poverty and the hardship of making ends meet. Cuixian ignored him. Liang Youcai erupted in rage, pounding the table, throwing down his chopsticks, and hurling insults at the maidservant, creating chaos without reason.

That evening, the couple shared drinks. After a long silence, Cuixian suddenly said, "Husband often complains about our poverty and worries constantly. I feel ashamed that I cannot ease your burden. For the present, perhaps we should sell the maidservant for some silver." Liang Youcai shook his head, "The maid’s appearance is ordinary; how much can she fetch?" Cuixian took a sip of wine and said, "What you say is true, husband. Now that you are utterly destitute, even if I swore to follow you to death, we would only endure a few more years of misery. What future is there? It would be better to sell me to a wealthy family. What do you think?"

Liang Youcai was overjoyed, though his expression remained startled. He said, "Why must you suffer this?" Cuixian insisted repeatedly. Liang Youcai gritted his teeth and said, "Allow me time to consider it slowly." He then bribed a eunuch to sell Cuixian into the official brothel as a government courtesan. The eunuch was extremely pleased with Cuixian’s looks and immediately offered eight hundred liang of silver, signing the contract of indenture.

Cuixian said to Liang Youcai, "Mother often worries because her son-in-law is poor. Our fate together is now at an end. Regarding our separation, I must inform my parents first. I wish to return home to see them; is that permissible?" Liang Youcai hesitated, "I am only afraid that if Mother-in-law learns the truth, she will intervene and stop this." Cuixian replied, "This is my own choice; I guarantee you will be fine." Liang Youcai nodded in agreement and raised no further objection.

In the middle of the night, the two returned home and knocked to enter. Liang Youcai and Cuixian had been married for over a year, and he had never visited her mother’s home. Seeing the magnificent residence now, with servants bustling back and forth, he felt a surge of dread. He thought, "Mother-in-law is from a prominent family; I fear the old lady will not willingly accept my selling her daughter."

Cuixian led Liang Youcai upstairs, where her mother came out to greet them, asking in surprise, "Why have you returned so late at night?" Cuixian complained, "I told you long ago his character was unjust, and now it has been proven." She pulled two gold ingots from her sleeve and placed them on the table, saying, "Fortunately, the petty man did not steal these. They rightfully belong to you, Mother, so I return them now." The mother asked the reason for this astonishment. Cuixian said, "He is intent on selling me off; having gold here is useless to me."

She pointed at Liang Youcai and cursed: "You jackal and rat! When you first arrived, you carried burdens and your face was covered in dust, ugly as a ghost. When you first drew close to me, you reeked of sweat, covered in filth, and the calluses on your hands and feet were over an inch thick—repulsive. If my mother and I hadn't given you the dowry, how would you have the silver to live in comfort? Mother, am I slandering you?"

Liang Youcai lowered his head upon hearing this, daring not utter a sound. Cuixian continued, "Though I lack the beauty to serve a rich young master, I deem myself worthy of a man like you. Since marrying you, I have not treated you unfairly in the slightest; why have you shown no regard for the bond of matrimony? Do I lack the ability to build estates and buy fields? I merely saw that you have no ambition, possess the poverty-stricken bones of a beggar, and ultimately, we could never grow old together."

The maids, hearing this, were indignant and surrounded Liang Youcai, cursing him: "A man so heartless should just be killed; why waste breath talking?" Liang Youcai trembled in fear, kneeling and kowtowing, pleading, "Mercy, sirs; I know I was wrong." Cuixian roared, "We shared the same bed; how could you be so cruel as to sell your wedded wife into prostitution? This is a monstrous crime!" Before she finished speaking, the maids’ eyes bulged with fury, and they produced scissors and hairpins, stabbing repeatedly at Liang's ribs and calves. In an instant, he was covered in gashes, blood flowing freely. Liang screamed in agony. Cuixian, hearing his cries, felt a pang of pity and sighed, "He is inhumane; I cannot be unjust. For the sake of our marriage, let him go."

The maids loudly agreed, and, led by Cuixian and her mother, they all descended the stairs and departed. Liang Youcai sat alone, groaning. The surroundings were silent, and as he prepared to sneak away, he looked up to see the stars moving across the sky, the eastern horizon showing the first light of dawn. He rubbed his eyes; the mansion had vanished. The lights were extinguished, and all around him was the vast, wild expanse—he found himself standing on the edge of a cliff.

The precipice dropped into an abyss bottomless to his sight. Liang Youcai was seized by a terror so profound it nearly killed him. As he slightly turned, there was a deafening crash, the rocks crumbled, and his body plunged straight down. Liang Youcai frantically scrabbled his hands and managed to grab a withered tree, narrowly escaping death. But his body hung suspended in mid-air, unable to move his limbs. Looking down, he saw swirling mist and clouds in the chasm, descending perhaps hundreds or thousands of zhang. Liang Youcai screamed for help until his voice was hoarse, his wounds swollen, and his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose exhausted from the strain.

The red sun gradually rose higher, and a woodcutter entered the mountain to gather firewood. Passing by, he saw Liang Youcai barely clinging to life and used a rope to pull him down, carrying him back to his home. Liang Youcai forced his eyes open and saw that the doorway of the dwelling gaped open; the four walls were bare, the place ruined like a deserted temple. All the dowry items and utensils were gone.

Liang Youcai was filled with deep regret. He lay in bed alone to recover from his injuries. When hungry, he went to beg from neighbors. His wounds festered and became infected, breaking out in sores. The villagers despised him, spitting curses and scorn at him. Liang Youcai had no choice but to sell the house and resort to begging on the streets, sleeping in earth caves each night. His only possession left was a broken saber. Some advised him to sell the saber for money, but Liang refused, saying, "Tigers and wolves are rampant in the wilderness; I must keep this saber for self-defense." In truth, he harbored another plan: the rogue who had urged him to sell his wife—he intended to use the saber to settle that score.

Later, Liang Youcai encountered the rogue on the road. Without a word, he stabbed the man dead. Because murder was a capital offense, he was arrested and imprisoned, where he soon died.