A man of the Zhang family of Henan, whose ancestors were of Qi, had his wife carried off by the northern soldiers when Qi was thrown into confusion at the end of the Ming. He had long been a traveler in Henan and had settled there. He married again in Henan, and a son was born, named Ne. Before long this wife died, and he married a second wife, a woman of the Niu family, who bore him a son named Cheng. Niu was very fierce; she hated Ne, treated him like a slave, and fed him on the worst scraps. She made him gather firewood, requiring a full load each day, and when it was not brought she beat and cursed him unendurably. Secretly she hoarded dainties for Cheng, whom she sent to study with a tutor.
As Cheng grew up he was filial and affectionate to his brother, and could not bear to see him toiling; he secretly pleaded with his mother, but she would not listen. One day Ne went to the hills for firewood, and before he had finished a great storm of wind and rain came on; he sheltered under a rock, and when the rain ceased evening had fallen. Very hungry, he shouldered his wood and went home. His mother, finding the load too small, angrily refused him food. Hunger burned at his heart, and he went to his room and lay down stiff and still. Cheng came from school and, seeing his brother so downcast, asked, "Are you ill?" "Only hungry," said Ne. Asked why, he told the whole truth. Cheng, much moved, went away, and in a while came back with a cake which he gave his brother. Asked where it came from, he said, "I stole some flour and got a neighbor woman to make it; but eat it and say nothing." Ne ate it, and charged his brother, "Do not do so again; if it comes out it will harm you. And one meal a day will keep me from starving." "But you are frail," said Cheng, "and cannot gather much wood!" The next day after breakfast he stole away to the hills to his brother's wood-cutting place. Seeing him, Ne was alarmed and asked what he meant to do. "I have come to help you cut wood," he said. "Who sent you?" asked Ne. "I came of myself," said Cheng. "You cannot cut wood," said his brother, "and even if you could, it would not be right." He urged him to go back, but Cheng would not listen, and broke off branches with hands and feet to help his brother, saying, "Tomorrow I will bring an axe." His brother came up to stop him and, seeing his fingers already bleeding and his shoes worn through, said sadly, "If you do not go home at once, I will cut my own throat with this axe!" So Cheng went, and his brother walked halfway home with him before returning to his wood-cutting. When Cheng got home he went to school and charged the tutor, "My brother is young; you should keep him shut in. There are tigers and wolves in the hills." "He was off somewhere before noon," said the tutor, "and I have already whipped him." When Cheng went home he said to his brother, "You did not listen to me, and you have been beaten!" "No, I have not," laughed Cheng. The next day he went off again with an axe, and his brother cried out in alarm, "I told you not to come; why have you done it again?" Cheng made no answer, but cut away faster, sweat pouring down his cheeks without a pause, until he had a full bundle, and then went off without a word of farewell. The tutor scolded him again, and only then did he tell the truth. The tutor, marveling at his virtue, no longer restrained him. His brother stopped him again and again, but he would not listen.
One day, as Cheng was cutting wood in the hills with several others, a tiger suddenly appeared. The rest crouched down in terror, and the tiger carried Cheng off. As the tiger ran slowly with its burden, Ne caught up with it and struck it with all his might with his axe, hitting it in the haunch. The tiger, mad with pain, fled at full speed, and Ne could neither follow nor find it, and came home weeping bitterly. The others tried to comfort him, but he wept the more. "My brother," he said, "is not as other men's brothers; and to have died for my sake—how can I go on living!" With that he struck his own neck with the axe. They caught him up in alarm, but the blade had sunk in more than an inch, and the blood spurted out till he swooned. In fright they tore strips of clothing and bound the wound, and carried him home. His mother, weeping, cursed him: "You have killed my son, and now you cut your throat to shift the blame!" Ne groaned, "Mother, do not be vexed; now that my brother is dead, I will not live!" They laid him on the bed, but for pain he could not sleep, and sat leaning against the wall, weeping day and night. His father, fearing he too would die, fed him from time to time; but Niu cursed and scolded him, and Ne, refusing food, died on the third day. There was in the village a shamaness who could send her spirit into the other world, and on the road Ne met her and poured out his old sorrows. Then he asked where his brother was; she said she had not heard, but turned and led Ne into the city. They came to a great town, where a man in a dark robe came out from the gate, and the shamaness stopped him to ask. The man searched a register in his pouch and looked it over; among more than a hundred men and women there was no one guilty of the name Zhang. The shamaness thought he might be in another register. "This road is mine," said the man in the dark robe; "how could he be wrongfully summoned?" Ne would not believe him and forced the shamaness into the inner city. There the new ghosts and the old came and went in crowds; there were some he knew, but when he asked them, none knew anything. Suddenly there was a great cry, "The Bodhisattva is coming!" Looking up, they saw a great being in the clouds, whose halo illumined heaven and earth, and the whole world grew bright. "You are in luck, eldest brother!" said the shamaness, congratulating him. "The Bodhisattva comes but once in some scores of years to the nether world to relieve the suffering, and today you have hit upon it." She made Ne kneel. The ghosts and prisoners, all in confusion, folded their hands and joined in the cry of "Mercy, save us!" which rolled and thundered through the air. The Bodhisattva sprinkled sweet dew from a willow branch, fine as dust; and presently the mist and light were withdrawn and the vision was gone. Ne felt the dew on his neck, and the axe-wound no longer pained him. The shamaness led him back, and when they came in sight of his village gate she took her leave and went. Ne had been dead two days; now he revived suddenly and told all that he had seen, saying that Cheng was not dead. His mother thought it a made-up story and cursed him for it. Ne, bearing the wrong and unable to clear himself, felt his wound and found it quite healed. With an effort he rose and, bowing to his father, said, "I am going, over clouds and under seas, to seek my brother; if I cannot find him, do not look to see me again in this life. I pray you, father, look upon me as already dead." His father led him apart and wept with him, and dared not keep him; so Ne went away.
On the great highways he sought news of his brother, and when his money was gone he begged his way. A year later he reached Jinling, his clothes in rags and tatters, bent double in the road. He happened to see a troop of a dozen horsemen pass, and drew aside to avoid them. One of them, who looked like an official of some forty years, with stout guards and fine horses galloping before and behind, had with him a young man on a small mule, who looked at Ne again and again. Ne, taking him for a young gentleman of rank, dared not look up. The young man reined in his mule, stopped a moment, and then dismounted, crying, "Are you not my brother?" Ne looked up and saw it was Cheng; he seized his hand and wept aloud. "Brother," Cheng wept too, "how are you brought to such a pass?" Ne told his story, and Cheng grieved the more. The horsemen all dismounted and asked the reason, and told the official. The official ordered a horse to be given to Ne, and rode with him home, where he questioned him closely. Now, when the tiger had carried Cheng off, it had at some time set him down by the roadside, and he lay there all night, till a certain Assistant Prefect Zhang, coming from the capital, passed that way and, seeing his comely face, took pity on him and revived him. Cheng told him where he lived, but it was far away, and the officer took him along. He also applied medicine to his wounds, and in a few days he was healed. The Assistant Prefect had no son of his own, so he adopted Cheng. It was a hunting expedition that had brought him here, and now Cheng told his brother all. As they spoke, the Assistant Prefect came in, and Ne bowed to him in endless gratitude. Cheng went in and brought out a robe of silk for his brother, and wine was set out for a family talk. "In your family in Henan," said the Assistant Prefect, "how many young men are there?" "None," said Ne. "My father was a man of Qi in his youth, and drifted to Henan." "I am also of Qi," said the officer. "What district do you belong to?" "I have heard my father say the prefecture of Dongchang," answered Ne. "I am of the same place!" cried the officer in surprise. "How came you to move to Henan?" "At the end of the Ming," said Ne, "the Manchu soldiers entered our borders and carried off my stepmother. My father, who had lost all in the wars, was first a trader on the western road; as he went to and fro he grew familiar with the country, and so settled there." "And what is your father's name?" asked the officer. Ne told him. The Assistant Prefect stared at him, bent his head as if lost in thought, and hurried into the house. Presently the old lady came out, and when they had all made their bows, she asked Ne, "Are you not the grandson of Zhang Bingzhi?" "I am," said Ne. The old lady burst into tears and said to the Assistant Prefect, "This is your brother." Neither Ne nor Cheng could understand. "I was married to your father for three years," said the old lady, "when I was carried away to the north and fell to the lot of a certain Black Fort for half a year, and bore your elder brother. Half a year later the Fort died, and your brother took rank under the banner and rose to this office. Now he has resigned his post. I have been ever longing for home, so we gave up our banner status and returned to our old name. We sent to Qi again and again, but could find no trace of you; how were we to know that your father had gone west!" Then, turning to the Assistant Prefect, "To make your brother your son," she said, "was to take away his fortune and yours!" "When I asked Cheng," said the Assistant Prefect, "he never said he was of Qi—he was too young to remember, I suppose." So they settled the order of age: the Assistant Prefect, at forty-one, was the eldest; Cheng, at sixteen, the youngest; and Ne, at twenty-two, came between them. The Assistant Prefect, overjoyed at his two brothers, slept with them and learned all the causes of their separation, and made ready to go home. The old lady feared she would not be received. "If they will have us," said the Assistant Prefect, "we will live together; if not, we will divide. Is there in this world a man without a father?"
So he sold his house, packed up, and set off westward on a fixed day. When they reached home, Ne and Cheng hurried on ahead to tell their father. The old man, since Ne's going, had lost his wife too, and lived a lonely widower, his shadow his only companion. At the sudden sight of Ne he was overjoyed, yet startled and bewildered; and when he saw Cheng he was too glad to speak, and only wept. When told that the Assistant Prefect and the old lady were coming, he stopped his tears in amazement, unable either to rejoice or to grieve, standing there dazed. Presently the Assistant Prefect came in and bowed; and the old lady, taking the old man by the hand, wept before him. When the maids and serving-men filled the house within and without, he knew not whether to sit or stand. Cheng, not seeing his mother, asked about her, and only then learned she was dead; he screamed and fainted, and did not come round for a while. The Assistant Prefect built a tower with his own money, engaged a tutor for his two brothers, and soon the horses stamped in the stable and the rooms hummed with people—it was indeed a great house.
The Historian of the Strange remarks: "In hearing this story to the end, I shed tears several times. When the lad of ten or twelve cut wood to help his brother and said so proudly, 'Is not Wang Lan reborn again!'—then I shed a tear. When the tiger carried Cheng off, I could not but cry out, 'So blind and dark is Heaven's way!'—then I shed another. When the brothers met suddenly, I wept for joy; and when a new elder brother appeared, adding to the sorrow, I wept for the Assistant Prefect. And when the whole family was united, coming from beyond all expectation and rejoicing beyond all expectation, with tears that had nowhere to go, I wept for the old father. I wonder whether in after ages there will be any who shed tears so readily as I."