An old man of Yangxin County, a native of Caidian village, ran a small roadside inn with his son for traveling merchants. Several carters who came and went on business often lodged at his house.
One day at dusk, four of them came together and sought lodging, but the old man's inn was already full. At a loss what to do, the four insisted on being taken in. The old man deliberated, thinking of a place but fearing it might not suit the guests. The guests said, "We ask only for a single corner to shelter under; we will not presume to choose." Now the old man's daughter-in-law had recently died, and her body lay in the room, for his son had gone out to buy timber for a coffin and not yet returned. The old man, since the death-chamber was quiet, led the guests through an alley to that room. Entering, they found the lamp dim on the table. Behind the table stood a curtained bed, where the dead woman lay covered with a paper shroud. As for sleeping quarters, there was only a long bench-bed in the inner room. The four travelers were weary from their journey and soon lay down, their breathing growing heavy. Only one guest was still half awake when suddenly he heard a rustling on the bed. He opened his eyes at once and saw clearly by the lamplight before the spirit-table: the female corpse had thrown off the shroud and sat up. Presently she descended and walked slowly into the bedchamber. Her face was pale gold, and a raw silk band bound her forehead. Bending over the bed, she blew on the sleeping guests one by one, three times. The watcher was terrified, fearing she would reach him, and quietly drew the coverlet over his head, holding his breath. Before long the woman did come and blew on him as on the others. He felt her leave the room and heard the rustle of the paper shroud. Peering out, he saw her lying stiff as at first. He was too afraid to make a sound, but trod secretly on his companions—yet none of them stirred in the least. He thought he had no choice but to dress and flee. No sooner had he risen and shaken out his clothes than the rustling resumed. In fear he hid again, drawing his head into the coverlet. The woman came once more and blew several times before leaving. After a while he heard the death-bed creak and knew she had lain down again. Cautiously he reached out from beneath the coverlet, seized his trousers, put them on, and fled barefoot. The corpse rose as if to pursue him. By the time she left the curtained bed, the guest had already unlatched the door and was outside. The corpse sped after him. He ran and cried out, but no one in the village was roused. He thought of knocking at the master's door, but feared being caught if he delayed, and so sped with all his might toward the county town. At the eastern outskirts he caught sight of a monastery and, hearing the sound of a wooden fish, urgently knocked at the gate. The Taoist was startled by his wild state and did not at once admit him. In an instant the corpse was upon them, barely a foot away, and the guest's distress grew greater. Outside the gate stood a white poplar four or five spans around, and he shielded himself behind it. When she moved right he slipped left; when she moved left he slipped right. The corpse grew angrier, but both were growing weary. The corpse halted abruptly, while the guest, bathed in sweat and gasping, sheltered among the branches. Suddenly the corpse sprang up, stretched out both arms, and groped for him across the tree. The guest fell down in fright. The corpse could not seize him and stood stiffly, clutching the tree.
The Taoist, listening at length and hearing nothing, at last came out and found the guest lying on the ground. By torchlight he seemed dead, yet a faint breath stirred in his chest. He carried him in, and after a whole night the man revived. He gave him water and questioned him, and the guest told all that had happened. The morning bell had ceased and dawn was dim when the Taoist looked up into the tree and beheld, to his horror, the stiff corpse of the woman. He reported it to the magistrate, who came in person to examine the case and had men pull at the woman's hands—they were locked fast and would not come free. Looking closely, they saw that her four fingers were curled like hooks, driven into the wood up to the nails. Only after several men pulled together did they come loose, leaving holes in the tree like auger-bores. Officers were sent to the old man's house, where the loss of the corpse and the death of the guest had thrown everyone into an uproar. The officer told them the reason, and the old man came, carried the corpse home, and buried it. The guest said tearfully to the magistrate, "We four set out together, and only one returns. How can I face my fellow villagers with such a tale?" The magistrate gave him a written pass, and he went home.