A man of the eastern prefecture made his living by training snakes. He had once kept two tame snakes, both green; the larger he called Daqing and the smaller Erqing. Erqing had a red spot on its forehead and was especially clever and gentle, coiling and turning at his will. The snake-man loved it beyond all others. After a year Daqing died, and before he had time to find a replacement, one night he lodged in a mountain temple. At dawn he opened the box—Erqing too was gone. The snake-man was grieved to the point of despair. He searched and called everywhere, but there was no trace. Still, wherever he came to thick groves and tall grass, he would set his snakes free, letting them please themselves and return; so he hoped Erqing might come back of its own accord. He sat waiting; the sun rose high, and he gave up hope and went disconsolately on. A few steps from the door he heard a rustling in the undergrowth. He stopped and looked back in amazement—it was Erqing. Overjoyed, he took it up as one would a precious jade. He rested by the roadside, and the snake stopped too. Behind it he saw a small snake following. Stroking it, he said, "I thought you had gone. Is this a companion you have brought?" He brought out food and fed it, and fed the small snake as well. The little snake would not leave, yet crouched and dared not eat. Erqing took food in its mouth and fed it, exactly as a host presses a guest. The snake-man fed it again, and then it ate. When it had eaten, it followed Erqing into the box. He carried them away and taught the little one to coil and fold, which it did always to rule, differing not at all from Erqing; so he named it Xiaoqing. Displaying his skill in all directions, he earned money without number.
As a rule, the snake-trainer keeps his snakes to two feet; any larger is too heavy and is exchanged. But because Erqing was so tame, he had not yet cast it off. Two or three years later it grew to more than three feet, and when it coiled, the box was full; so he resolved to let it go. One day, coming to the eastern hills of Zi County, he fed it choice morsels, prayed, and set it free. It went, but after a while returned, coiling about outside the box. The snake-man waved it off, saying, "Away with you! There is no feast in the world that lasts a hundred years. Go hide in the great valleys and become a spirit dragon; how can you dwell forever in a box?" The snake went away. The snake-man watched it till it was gone. But soon it returned, and when he waved it away it would not go, only struck the box with its head, while Xiaoqing within trembled. The snake-man understood, and said, "You do not want to part from Xiaoqing?" So he opened the box, and Xiaoqing came out; the two snakes twined heads and flicked tongues, as though taking leave of each other. Then they went off together, coiling side by side. The man thought Xiaoqing would not come back, but after a while it came limping back alone and went straight into the box to lie down. From then on he searched everywhere for a good snake but never found one to match; and Xiaoqing itself grew too large to play with. Later he found one that was fairly tame, yet never as good as Xiaoqing. And Xiaoqing had grown as thick as a child's arm.
Before this, Daqing, in the mountains, had been seen by many woodcutters. After several more years it grew to several feet, thick as a bowl, and began to come out and pursue travelers; so wayfarers warned one another and none dared use that road. One day the snake-man passed that way, and the snake burst out like the wind. The snake-man fled in terror; the snake pursued the faster, and looking back he saw it almost upon him. But looking at its head, he saw the red spot plainly and knew it was Erqing. Setting down his pole he called, "Erqing! Erqing!" The snake stopped at once. It raised its head for a long while, then with a bound coiled round him as in the old days of play. The man felt its intent was not evil, but its body was huge and heavy, and unable to bear the coil he fell to the ground, crying for mercy, whereupon it released him. Again it struck the box with its head; the snake-man understood, opened the box, and let out Xiaoqing. When the two snakes met, they twined like candy, and it was long before they parted. Then the snake-man prayed to Xiaoqing, "I have long wished to part from you, and now you have a companion." To Erqing he said, "It was you who brought it here; you may take it back again. And hear one word more: the deep mountains are not lacking in food and drink; do not disturb travelers, lest you draw Heaven's punishment upon you." The two snakes hung their heads as if to acknowledge the command. Then they rose, the great one in front and the small behind, and the woods parted where they passed. The snake-man stood gazing until they were lost to sight, and then went on. After this travelers passed as before, and none knew whither the two snakes had gone.
The Historian of the Strange says: "A snake is a dull, stupid creature, yet it clings with affection to an old friend, and heeds advice as easily as a wheel turns. Strange that men who wear the human face—who after ten years of sworn friendship, or after generations of kindness from a master, would cast a stone upon him fallen into a well; or who, when good medicine and counsel are offered, flout them recklessly and make enemies of their friends—should sink below even this snake!"