Yu Gong, in his youth, was a gallant who delighted in boxing, and had strength enough to whirl a great wine-jar as if in a dance. In the Chongzhen reign, while taking the palace examination in the capital, his servant fell ill and could not rise, which troubled him. Now there was a famous fortune-teller in the market who could determine a man's life and death, and Yu thought to consult him on his servant's behalf.
Before he had spoken, the soothsayer said, "Do you not wish to ask about your servant's illness?" Yu, startled, assented. "The sick man is in no danger," said the soothsayer; "but you yourself are." So Yu had his own fortune told. The soothsayer cast the hexagrams and said in consternation, "In three days you will die!" Yu was astonished for a long while. The soothsayer said composedly, "I have a little art; give me ten pieces of gold and I will avert it for you." Yu reflected that life and death were already fixed, and no art could dissolve them; so without answering he rose to leave. "What a pity to begrudge so small a sum!" said the soothsayer. "Do not repent it! Do not repent it!" Those who loved Yu feared for him and urged him to empty his purse and entreat. Yu would not.
The three days passed, and Yu sat quietly in his inn, watching and waiting; through the whole day nothing happened. At night he closed the door, trimmed the lamp, and sat bolt upright, sword in hand. The first watch was nearly over, and still no death came to him. He was thinking of going to bed when suddenly he heard a rustling at the window-crack. Looking quickly, he saw a little man with a halberd on his shoulder come in, who on touching the ground grew as tall as a man. Yu seized his sword and struck at once, but the thing slipped aside untouched. It at once shrank small, sought the window-crack again, and made to escape. Yu struck it swiftly, and it fell at the blow. Lighting a candle, he found it a paper figure, cut through the middle. He dared not sleep and sat waiting again. After a while something thrust through the window—a thing of hideous, demon-like aspect. It had barely touched the ground when Yu struck it fiercely, cleaving it in two; both halves wriggled. Fearing it would rise again, he struck again and again, every blow telling, yet the sound was not soft. Examining it, he found it was a clay idol, shattered into pieces.
So he moved his seat beneath the window, with his eye fixed on the crack. After a long time he heard outside a sound like an ox panting, and something pushed at the window-lattice, shaking the wall as if to bring it down. Yu feared it would crush him, and thought better to go out and fight. So he flung off the bar, dashed out, and saw a huge ghost as tall as the eaves. By the dim moonlight he saw its face black as coal, its eyes gleaming with a yellow light; above it wore no clothes, below no shoes, but carried a bow at its side and arrows at its waist. Yu was aghast when the ghost drew its bow. Yu knocked the arrow aside with his sword and it fell. He made to strike, but the ghost drew again. Yu leapt aside in haste, and the arrow pierced the wall, quivering. The ghost flew into a rage, drew its great knife, and whirled it like the wind, hacking straight at Yu. Yu darted in like a monkey; the blade struck a stone in the courtyard, which split at once. Yu slipped between its legs and cut at the ghost's ankle with a clang. The ghost, angrier still, roared like thunder, turned, and chopped again. Yu crouched and lunged in; the knife fell and sheared off Yu's gown. But Yu was already at its ribs, and struck fiercely—again with a clang; the ghost toppled stiffly to the ground. Yu rained blows on it, and the sounds were hard as striking a watchman's clapper. Lighting a candle, he found it was a wooden puppet, as tall as a man, with bow and arrows still bound at its waist, carved in a savage guise; and where his sword had struck, blood had issued. Yu sat with his candle till dawn. Then he knew that all these things were sent by the soothsayer to bring about his death, that his art might seem divine.
The next day he told all his acquaintances and went with them to the soothsayer's booth. The soothsayer, seeing Yu from afar, vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Someone said, "These are all arts of invisibility; dog's blood can break them." Yu did as he was advised and went well prepared. The soothsayer hid himself again as before. Yu at once dashed dog's blood over the spot where he stood, and there was the soothsayer, face and head all blurred with the blood, his eyes glaring like a ghost's. They seized him and handed him over to the authorities, who put him to death.
The Historian of the Strange says: "I have often thought buying a fortune a folly. Of those who profess this art and never err as to life and death, how few are there! If the fortune errs, it is as good as none. And even if one is plainly told the day of death draws near, what is one to do about it? How much more fearful are those who, to make their art seem divine, would take a man's life!"