Guo Shusheng of Guangdong, returning home from a friend’s house that night, became lost in the mountains, stumbling blindly through the dense undergrowth. Around the first watch, he heard laughter drifting down from the hilltop. Approaching cautiously, Shusheng saw about a dozen men seated on the ground, drinking merrily. Upon spotting him, they burst out in unison, “We were just short of a guest for our wine! Since you’ve arrived uninvited, Friend, that’s splendid, truly splendid.”

Shusheng found a place to sit on the earth and observed the group intently. They all wore square kerchiefs, and most appeared to be scholars. He immediately felt a sense of kinship and inquired about the path back to his home.

One man chuckled, “Young Master, you are truly too earnest. Why ask for a path when there is such a magnificent moon to admire?” As he spoke, he handed Shusheng a cup of fine wine, the aroma of which was intoxicating. Shusheng, being neither shy nor reserved, drank it down in one gulp. Immediately, other scholars pressed more wine upon him. Shusheng possessed remarkable tolerance for drink, and coupled with his long journey, his throat was parched; he proceeded to down ten cups or more in quick succession.

The group cheered, “What spirit! Truly a good companion.” Shusheng was naturally jovial, enjoyed a good jest, and was a master of vocal mimicry, perfectly imitating the calls of various animals. While excusing himself briefly, he let out a clear swallow's chirp. The men around the fire grew curious: “Where in the dead of night would a swallow be?” Shusheng then mimicked the cry of a cuckoo, deepening their confusion.

Shusheng returned to his seat among them, smiling silently. As they were still debating the source of the sounds, he subtly turned his head and, through his mouth, imitated a parrot, saying clearly, “Scholar Guo is drunk; someone quickly send him home.” The men leaned in to listen; the surroundings fell utterly silent. A moment later, Shusheng spoke again in the parrot’s voice, and only then did they grasp the situation, erupting into hearty laughter. They began eagerly asking Shusheng to teach them, whistling and calling like animals, yet their attempts fell short; none could replicate his skill.

One man remarked, “It’s a pity Qing Niangzi didn’t come.” Another added, “We shall gather here again during the Mid-Autumn Festival; Scholar Guo must attend.” Shusheng readily agreed. One man then stood up, saying, “Our guest possesses such rare talents; we too shall put on a little show—a human pyramid, perhaps?” The others applauded enthusiastically and rose to their feet. The first man stood firm, the second leaped lightly, soaring into the air to land squarely on his companion’s shoulders. This pattern was repeated, each man stacking upon the one below, until ten or so figures formed a wall of men that seemed to reach the clouds.

Shusheng cheered loudly, but suddenly the human wall collapsed, settling flat upon the ground to form a narrow path. Shusheng understood instantly that they had shown him the way; he walked along this path and, sure enough, arrived home safely.

The next day, Shusheng suffered intense abdominal pain, and when he relieved himself, his urine was a vivid green, the color of malachite. Where the urine touched the green bricks or soil, the ground instantly turned green, yet as he breathed, he detected no foul odor. This continued for three full days before his system returned to normal. When the Mid-Autumn Festival arrived, Shusheng prepared to keep his promise, but a good friend persuaded him against it, and ultimately, he could not attend the gathering.