Geng Shiba of Xincheng lay mortally ill and knew he could not recover. "Our parting is at hand, within a day or two," he said to his wife. "After I am gone, you may remarry or remain a widow as you please; only tell me your wish." His wife was silent. Geng pressed her, saying, "To remain is well, to marry is no more than human. Why not speak plainly? It will do you no hurt. I am about to part from you forever; if you stay, my heart will be comforted; if you marry, I shall go hence with my mind at rest." At this his wife said sadly, "There is not a pint of rice in the house; even while you lived it could not be managed. How could I hold out as a widow?" At these words Geng seized his wife's arm and said in a tone of bitterness, "Cruel indeed!" He died as he spoke, and his hand remained clenched and could not be opened. His wife wailed, and when the family came, two of them, wrenching at his fingers, had much ado to open them.
Geng did not know he was dead. Going out of the door, he saw a dozen or more small carts, in each of which were ten men, and a paper with his name pasted on each cart. The driver, seeing Geng, urged him to mount. Geng saw there were already nine men in the cart, and with himself made ten; and looking at the paper he saw his name came last. The cart rumbled along, the sound deafening his ears, and he knew not whither they went. At length they came to a place where he heard someone say, "This is the Land of Longing for Home." He was puzzled by the name. Then he heard the drivers whispering together, "Today three are to be killed." Geng was alarmed. Listening further, he found all their talk was of the underworld, and realized, "Am I become a ghost, then?" He thought at once that there was nothing at home he need be anxious about save his old mother, now advanced in years, who would lack someone to care for her after his wife remarried. At this the tears flowed unawares. Presently they came to a high terrace of several fathoms, thronged with visitors; men with bound heads and fettered feet went up and down weeping, and he heard it called the Terrace of Looking toward Home. At this point all the company got down from the carts and crowded to climb up. The drivers beat some and stopped others, but when it came to Geng they urged him up. He climbed several score of steps to the very top, and, raising his head and gazing, he saw his own gate and courtyard plain before him. But the inner rooms were hidden, as if wrapped in mist. He could not contain his grief.
Looking round, he saw a man in short clothes standing at his shoulder, who asked his name, and Geng told him all. The man said he was a carpenter of the Eastern Sea; and seeing Geng in tears, asked what it was he could not leave at ease behind him. Geng told him. The carpenter proposed that they escape together over the edge of the terrace. Geng feared pursuit by the underworld, but the carpenter insisted there was no danger; and when Geng feared the height and the fall, the carpenter bade him but follow his lead. He sprang down first, and Geng followed, and reached the ground safely, glad that no one had noticed. He saw their carts still standing at the foot of the terrace. The two ran off at top speed; but after a few paces it struck Geng that his name was pasted on the cart, and that they might be pursued by the name; so he turned back, went close to the cart, and rubbed his name out with his fingers before running on again, gasping for breath and not daring to stop. Presently they entered the village gate, and the carpenter accompanied him to his own door. Geng caught sight of his own corpse and woke with a start. He felt weary and parched and called for water. His family were terrified and brought it, and he drank more than a peck. Then he sprang up and made bows of thanks, went out of the door, saluted, and came back, whereupon he lay down stiff and still. His family, struck by his strange behavior, doubted whether he was truly alive; but as they watched him they could see nothing else amiss. When they drew near and questioned him, he told the whole story in order. "Why did you go out of the door?" they asked. "To say farewell to the carpenter," he said. "Why did you drink so much water?" "At first for myself," he answered, "and afterwards for the carpenter." They gave him soup and broth, and in a few days he was well. From that time he held his wife in aversion and never shared her bed again.