Sun Taibai once said that his great-grandfather studied at the Liugou Monastery on the southern mountain. Returning home during the wheat harvest, he did not come back for ten days. When he opened the door of his study, he found dust on the table and cobwebs in the windows; he bade his servant sweep it clean, and by evening it was fresh enough to sit in. Then he dusted the couch, spread his bedding, and barred the door to sleep, with moonlight already flooding the windows. He tossed and turned for a while, and all was utterly still. Suddenly he heard the wind roaring, and the monastery gate burst open with a crash; he thought the monks must have left it unbarred. As he listened, the wind drew nearer to his dwelling, and presently the door of his room flew open. Greatly startled, he had not yet composed his thoughts when the sound entered the room, followed by the clank of boots drawing near the bedroom door. Now he grew truly afraid. In a moment the bedroom door flew open, and looking, he saw a huge ghost stoop and squeeze in, standing abruptly before the couch, nearly as tall as the roof-beam. Its face was the color of an old gourd's rind, its eyes glittered, and it glanced about the room, opening a mouth as wide as a basin, with sparse teeth three inches long. Its tongue moved and its throat rumbled, making a hoarse clattering that echoed from all four walls. Sun was terrified to the utmost. Yet he reflected that at such close quarters there was no escape, and better to stab it. So he drew out the dagger from beneath his pillow, pulled it forth, and thrust—it struck the belly with a sound like striking an earthen jar. The ghost flew into a rage and reached out its huge claws to seize him. Sun shrank back. The ghost caught up the quilt, wrenched it, and went off in high dudgeon. Sun, falling with the quilt, lay on the ground and cried out.
His family came running with torches; the door was shut as before, so they climbed in through the window. Seeing his state, they were aghast. They helped him into bed, and only then did he tell the tale. On examining, they found the quilt wedged in the crack of the bedroom door. Opening the door and searching by torchlight, they saw claw-marks as large as a winnowing-fan, the fingers having pierced right through.
At dawn, he dared not stay longer, and carrying his book-case, went home. Later he asked the monks, but there was nothing further strange.