In Zichuan County lived a man named Liu, overbearing and brutal in nature, whom the local villagers feared as they would a hungry tiger. Later, Liu moved to Linyi County, his vile habits unchanged. Liu owned several acres of land, which abutted the fields belonging to a man named Miao. Miao was a diligent farmer who had planted numerous peach trees along the boundary berm.

That year, when the peaches ripened, Miao’s young son ventured into the field to pick some. Liu happened upon him and roared, “These are my peaches! Who gave you permission to pick them? Be off, be off!” Miao’s son, barely a boy of ten or so, burst into tears and ran home to tell his father. Before the boy could finish his tale, Liu had already stormed into Miao’s home, twisting the facts and shouting, “You man surnamed Miao! Your child sneaked into my field to steal peaches. This matter won't be dropped so easily.”

Miao repeatedly smiled and offered profuse apologies, saying many kind words. Still not appeased, Liu actually drew up a formal complaint and proceeded to the county yamen. On his way to the market, he ran into an old friend, Li Cuishi, who asked, “Brother Liu, what business brings you out today?” Liu told him truthfully. Li Cuishi laughed, “I know Old Man Miao; he’s notoriously honest and simple. How could he steal your peaches? You must be falsely accusing an innocent man again. Listen to my advice and drop this matter here.” As he spoke, Li Cuishi snatched the written complaint from Liu’s hand and tore it to shreds.

Liu seethed with resentment. Taking advantage of Li Cuishi’s inattention, he swiftly rewrote another complaint and tucked it inside his robe. Not long after, Miao came to call, begging Li Cuishi to intercede on his behalf. He pleaded, “I have been a farmer my whole life and have never seen the inside of a magistrate’s court, nor do I wish to step into one in this life. As long as the Liu family agrees not to sue, I am willing to give up the few peach trees.” Li Cuishi summoned Liu and attempted to mediate. Hearing this, Liu, feeling empowered, became relentless, gesticulating wildly and hurling endless torrents of abuse. Miao merely bowed and scraped, daring not to offer a defense.

After railing for a time, Liu returned home, swelling with self-satisfaction and arrogance. Not long thereafter, he died. When Li Cuishi heard the news, he was greatly astonished. Later that day, as Li Cuishi was out on an errand, he saw an old man approaching him, leaning on a staff—it was none other than Liu.

Liu had also spotted Li Cuishi. He walked over, greeted him, and invited him home. Li Cuishi inquired, “I heard the other day that Brother Liu had passed away suddenly. Was that just a rumor?” Liu replied, “It was no rumor; it was real. The moment I returned home that day, two yamen runners suddenly appeared, holding iron chains, and said, ‘Liu, come with us to see the official.’ I thought to myself, ‘In my decades of traversing the courts, I’ve met countless powerful figures; what’s the fear of seeing an official?’ I offered no resistance and followed them to a grand hall. Seated within was a King, his face contorted with anger, who declared, ‘Are you Liu? I hear you are utterly depraved and refuse to repent; now you seize another man’s property as your own. For such crimes, you should rightly be boiled in oil.’ One man, holding a ledger, spoke up, saying, ‘Liu once performed one good deed; he cannot be executed.’ The King picked up the ledger to examine it; his expression softened slightly, and he nodded, saying, ‘In that case, we shall temporarily send him back to the living world.’ Dozens of voices shouted at me, driving me out. I asked, ‘One moment you seize me, the next you release me—what is the meaning of all this?’ The man who had been holding the ledger explained, ‘In the thirteenth year of Chongzhen, you once contributed three hundred wen to save a couple. That is why your fate is not yet ended. Otherwise, you would have long been cast into the tunnel of reincarnation and punished as a beast.’ Hearing this, my heart chilled. I dared not linger, and under the escort of the two runners, I hurried out. Outside the hall, the two runners demanded a bribe from me. I raged, ‘In my twenty years frequenting officialdom, I’ve only ever been the one demanding money. You dare to ask a tiger for meat?’” The two were stunned into silence and dared not retort. They escorted me swiftly to the edge of the village and took their leave. Upon returning home, I realized I had been dead for three days.”

Li Cuishi found the story wondrous and immediately inquired about the good deed Liu had performed.

It was in the thirteenth year of Chongzhen, a time of widespread famine across the land. Liu was still young then, working as a runner in Zichuan County. One day, while on official duty, he encountered a man and a woman weeping bitterly on the road. He approached and asked the reason. They explained, “We are husband and wife, married for over a year, but now caught in the great famine, lacking food and clothing, which causes us great distress.”

Liu paid them no mind and continued his journey. Soon after, he arrived at an oil shop and unexpectedly met the same couple again. He saw them red-faced, arguing heatedly with the shop owner, seemingly haggling over a price. He inquired about the cause, and the owner explained, “This poor couple often comes to my shop begging for food. This time, however, the situation is different. The man told me he wanted to sell me his wife for three hundred wen in copper coins. I only offered one hundred, but they found it too little, so they kept arguing and lingering. It’s quite laughable.”

The man’s face darkened upon hearing this. He retorted, “If I were not desperate to flee the famine and return to my village, who would be willing to sell you my wife? Three hundred wen is precisely what we need to cover our travel expenses; why be so stingy?”

Liu chimed in, “Indeed. Three hundred wen for a delicate young woman—that price isn't too high. Consider it doing a good deed and agree to it.” Seeing the shop owner unmoved, Liu advised, “How about this: I’ll pay half the price for you?”

The shop owner shook his head, still unwilling to budge. “One hundred wen, not a coin more.” Liu, young and spirited, saw the owner as a grasping merchant with a heart of stone and grew indignant. He turned to the husband and said, “This man is a typical profiteer with an iron heart; there’s no point in appealing to him. I will pay the three hundred wen. Wouldn't that both secure your travel funds and keep your couple together? Isn't that better?” As he spoke, he pulled out the coins and gifted them to the pair.

After Liu finished recounting his tale, Li Cuishi praised him highly. From that day forward, Liu abandoned his wickedness, reformed his conduct, and never committed another bad deed.