One day, Chen and the general were crossing Tung Ting Lake aboard a junk when a seal swam by. The general fitted an arrow to his bow and shot the seal, just to keep in practice.

​

The sailors hauled the creature aboard. As they tied it to the foot of the mast, they noticed a strange thing. A small fish had attached itself to the seal's tail. Even out of water it still held fast to the seal.

 

Pleased with himself, the general went to bed. Chen stayed on deck. The seal was still alive and gasping painfully.

 

Chen took out a healing powder he had compounded, and sprinkled some on the seal's back. Then he untied the suffering creature and tossed it into the water. "Good! It will live," thought Chen. He watched the seal plunge joyfully, circling the junk. It was joined by a school of shining fish, some of them resembling the one that had gripped the seal's tail so firmly.

 

The general didn't mind finding the seal gone. It was the shot, not the victim, that had pleased him. Chen, too, forgot about it.

​

A year later, on his first vacation, Chen crossed the lake to visit his family. A sudden tempest arose, and the junk was smashed to pieces. Chen clutched a bamboo basket and managed to stay afloat until he could grab the roots of a tree that grew on the bank.

​

Soaked and chilled, he waited for dawn. The lake shore was deserted and tempest-torn. Not a junk was in sight. A green hill sloped up from the shore, covered with graceful willow trees whose leaves trembled in the soft breeze.

 

Chen started to climb up the hill, hoping to find someone to tell him the way to his native village. He was about half way up, when suddenly an arrow whistled past his ear. Chen turned to see two maidens galloping by on swift horses.

 

Their heads were banded with red silk and their black hair streamed behind them. Their dresses were purple, belted in green, and they were armed with bows and arrows. Black leather quivers hung at their shoulders and bows were slung across their saddles.

 

Chen ducked hurriedly behind a tree, and waited until the horses were out of sight. Then he continued up the hill. When he reached the top, he saw many girls in identical hunting costumes. They were dancing and laughing, and playing hide-and-seek among the willows and the walnut trees. There were no men there, only a dozen small boys serving refreshments.

 

One of these boys passed near to where Chen stood out of sight, trying to get his bearings.

​

Chen stepped out and whispered, "Where am I, for heaven's sake?"

 

The boy looked around and laughed. "Don't you know? This is the hunting ground of the queen of Tung Ting Lake. How on earth did you get here?"

 

"The storm last night sank my junk. I barely escaped alive. Now I am hungry and thirsty, and lost.”

 

"Hunger and thirst are easily satisfied," the boy said, offering Chen the picnic provisions he carried. "But if you value your life, get out of here before the Queen sees you."

 

With that, he ran off to serve the maidens, who were still playing and dancing. Chen circled to bypass the dell, keeping well out of sight behind the trees. There was a path down the far slope, and Chen followed it until he came to a white wall that he supposed must enclose a temple. Around the wall ran a limpid brook, across which was a stone bridge that led to a door.

​

Trying to quiet his fears, Chen crossed the bridge and went through the door. He found himself in a vast park. Shrines rose here and there among the flowering trees and shrubs.

​

Chen wandered on through the stillness, and presently he came to a clearing ringed by weeping willows. A gentle breeze stirred the branches of the trees, and petals from the wisteria drifted down to the ground. Birds sang sweetly.

 

Chen stood still, enchanted. Such loveliness surpassed anything he had ever imagined. Then he noticed a swing in the clearing. Its ropes rose with no support into the sky, and vanished among silvery clouds. Chen began to be afraid. The garden was too beautiful and too lonely. Chen wanted to leave. But the sound of laughter and light steps warned him that someone was approaching. He hurried into the dense shrubbery, and the girls he had seen earlier came into view, laughing and singing.

 

Soon another group of girls joined the first. Gowned in purple, they accompanied a princess of indescribable beauty. They served her with tea whose warm fragrance drifted over to Chen. He stood spellbound. When she had finished the tea, she tossed back her black locks and ran joyously to the swing. Light as a summer swallow she soared, so high she became a silver blur among the clouds. The maids-in-waiting stood and watched her, applauding as the swing went higher. Down she came, and soared again, up, up, again and again, her long hair blowing around her face. At last she grew tired of this pastime. She let the rhythm shorten, the maidens caught hold of the swing, and the princess stepped down.

 

The maids-in-waiting surrounded her, and they went off, laughing and chatter- ing, through the flowering trees. Chen stepped from his hiding place and approached the swing. The beauty of the Princess had driven from his mind his urgent longing to escape.

 

On the grass near the swing lay a red silk kerchief. Chen picked it up and thrust it into his sleeve. Then he set off through the forest, following the path taken by the Princess and her maidens. He came to an archway inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It sheltered a table that bore materials for writing. Seized with inspiration, Chen took out the red silk kerchief, and began to write verses to the beautiful princess.

 

"Your black locks toss in the balmy air

Where you dart and fly on your graceful swing.

You dip and soar, more immortally fair

And more longed-for than spring."

 

The verses sang of the beauty of the Princess in terms of such infinite sweetness, that were so full of emotion, that they seemed to be the work of a great poet.

Chen put the handkerchief back into his sleeve with a great sigh, and went to search for a way out of the royal grounds. He tried to remember the way he had come in, but the longer he walked among the flowering trees and temples, the more lost he became.

 

Suddenly he emerged from a bower of vines and found himself face to face with one of the attendant maidens. "Who are you? How did you get here?" she asked in astonishment.

 

Bowing, Chen replied, "I wandered in here, looking for the way home to my village. Help me find a way out, I beg you.”

 

"I too am looking for something lost. Have you seen a red silk kerchief anywhere?" she said.

 

"Is this it?" Chen asked, drawing the kerchief from his sleeve.

 

"Oh, yes!" she cried. Then seeing it covered with writing, she shook it out and read the verses.

​

"Now I could not help you, even if I wanted to," she said sadly.

 

"Why not?" Chen asked.

 

"This is the Princess' favorite kerchief. She wears it constantly. She will never forgive you for all this ink." The maiden looked up at Chen sadly. "It's a pity. You seem a pleasant person, and you write well. I would have liked to help.”

 

The maiden ran off through the trees, leaving Chen confused and anxious. She returned just as the sun was setting.

​

"I have good news," she said. "Her Highness read your verses. And instead of being annoyed, she was delighted! Be patient, and you may yet go free. But whatever you do, beware of climbing trees or walls. That would be unpardonable."

 

Again she left him, and disappeared among the foliage.

​

Chen waited, and shadows began to fill the little shrine. He dared not leave, for he was afraid the maiden might not be able to find him again.

​

Hours later, a small light came glimmering towards him. The maiden approached, followed by a servant bearing food and drink.

​

“I asked the Princess if I might send you on your way," she said. "Her Highness felt it would be foolish for you to leave on a moonless night as dark as this one. She asked me to bring you these refreshments. So you see, all may yet be well."

 

But Chen was still troubled. He ate very little, and he could not sleep, puzzled over his strange captivity.

 

Next morning, the maiden came again, bringing him breakfast.

​

When Chen once more pleaded with her to help him escape, she murmured, "Her Highness makes her own decisions. None of us would dare interfere." Chen spent a long, anxious day. At sunset the maiden came running back. "Something terrible has happened," she said breathlessly. "A gossipy girl has told the queen herself about the red kerchief, and the Queen is furious. Now I am afraid for your safety!"

 

Chen was about to question her when they heard voices, and a party of men marched up. Carrying heavy chains in their hands, they surrounded Chen like a living wall, and their expressions were far from friendly. Behind them came several servingmaids.

​

One of them stepped forward and approached Chen. She stared closely at him, and cried, "Incredible! It can't be, but it is! It is my Lord Chen, indeed it is!"

​

She put herself between Chen and the men, who began to murmur among themselves. They moved closer to Chen, holding their chains in readiness.

 

"Wait!" cried the girl. "I must see the Queen at once. Do nothing until I return.”

Reluctantly the men stepped back. They stood quite still, gripping the chains in their powerful hands. The serving-maids whispered and stared. Chen spent a long moment of dread.

 

At last the maid came running "Her Majesty the Queen asks my Lord Chen to come to her at once!" she cried breathlessly.

​

Chen did not even try to understand the new turn of events. The men, their unused chains clanking, led him to a palace, through many rooms, and up to a pavilion. Its doors were hidden by a green bamboo curtain which hung from silver rings. A servant drew aside the curtain and announced, "My Lord Chen!"

 

Upon a gleaming throne of gold and silver sat a woman of great beauty. She was robed in brocade. Chen knelt before her, and bowing low, he said, "Your Majesty, I am a stranger who has come a long way. I beg you to set me free.”

 

The Queen rose and helped Chen to his feet. Gently she said, "My Lord Chen, I owe you my life. Had my people known you, you would never have fared so badly in my realm. Can you forgive us?"

​

Before Chen could recover from his amazement, servants started to prepare a sumptuous banquet. Delicacies of every description were brought in on plates and bowls of pale, rosy porcelain so fine it seemed made of the sunlit petals of apple blossom. The Queen seated Chen beside her.

​

"It was good fortune that you found my daughter's kerchief. She will be honored to become your wife.”

 

To Chen the news was amazing and wonderful. But since he could understand nothing of his extraordinary circumstances, he continued to feel anxious and uneasy. When the banquet was over, a servant advised the Queen,  "The Princess is ready for the ceremony.”

 

Chen followed the Queen into a great hall. Thick, deep carpets covered the floors. Thousands of lanterns hung from the walls and ceilings. The air was sweet with soft music and the scent of musk.The fair Princess came modestly forward. She and Chen were married, and all the court held a festival.

 

The Princess made a perfect wife. Chen knew that he was most fortunate, and had every reason to rejoice. But until he could understand the reason for the Queen's sudden kindness, he could not be at peace.

 

At last he decided to find out the truth, come what may. He said to his wife, "I was nobody special. I was shipwrecked and lost. I found your kerchief and dared scrawl verses on it, and it almost cost me my life. Then all of a sudden I was showered with kindness, and given the greatest of gifts when you became my wife. To what do I owe this good fortune?"

 

The Princess smiled and caressed his hand. "Do you recall the day the general shot a seal as you were crossing Tung Ting Lake?" she said.

 

"I do. But how did you hear of it?" he exclaimed.

 

"The seal whose life you saved was one of the shapes sometimes taken by my mother, Queen of the Lake. We have never forgotten what we owe to your kindness." 

 

"What about the serving-maid who recognized me? I had surely never seen

her before."

 

"Perhaps you remember that a fish gripped the seal's tail and would not let go. That was the brave little maid who refused to abandon her Queen. Of course she recognized you!"

 

At last Chen understood. Joy truly entered his heart. But he had one more question still to ask.

​

"When you saw your red kerchief scrawled with ink, you intended to have me put to death. Why did you keep putting it off? Why did you send a maid with food and drink?"

 

The Princess turned her head aside and spoke very softly.

"When I read the poem I was filled with love for the one who wrote it. I hoped to find a way to soften my mother's heart toward him.”

 

Chen sighed happily. He had no further questions to ask.

 

Ten years had passed since Chen's wedding to the Princess of Tung Ting Lake. One night, the mandarin Liang was crossing the lake on his return from a long voyage in the south. Across the deep stillness, mingled with the murmur of the waters, he heard the sound of music.

 

Out of curiosity, Liang went on deck and saw a junk wreathed in flowers gliding toward him. Its wood was carved, and inlaid with pearl; its shutters were lacquered in scarlet. The deck was deserted, but from within came the sound of laughter and song. The two boats were close together when he saw a shutter open. A beautiful young woman looked out over the water.

 

Behind her, a handsome young man sat at a festive table. Liang found the young man's face familiar. He thought for a moment, and then let out an exclamation of surprise. "Chen!" he cried. "Chen, is that really you?"

 

Hearing his name, Chen ordered his junk to stop. He stared over the dark water to see who had hailed him. "Liang!" he called in a pleased surprise. He had recognized the mandarin as his closest boyhood friend.

 

Liang accepted Chen's invitation to come aboard and be presented to his wife. He wondered how it was that Chen, the penniless student, was now Chen the wealthy husband of this most exquisite and elegant lady.

 

His wonder grew as servants cleared silver dishes away and brought others of wrought gold, studded with diamonds and full of delicious things to eat.

​

"Forgive an old friend's curiosity," he said at last. "When we last met ten years ago, you were less wealthy, were you not?"

 

Chen laughed and laughed. "I was," he said. "I was as poor as could be. Tell me, is this your first trip home since then?"

 

"Yes, I have spent the last ten years far to the south," Liang replied.

 

"Then that is why you haven't heard anything about me," Chen said, amused. Liang felt rather awkward and ill-informed.

 

"May I ask where you and your lady are traveling?" he asked.

 

"We are just passing a few pleasant hours on the lake," Chen replied.

 

Liang nodded, and drank the rest of the wine in his cup before he rose to go.

"Let me offer you a little souvenir," Chen said. "It isn't often one meets an old friend after so many years.”

 

He held out the largest pearl Liang had ever seen. Its perfect shape and its amazing luster were equally remarkable. Chen accompanied his friend on deck and waited until Liang stood safe on his own junk. Then he called for the sail to be hoisted. The night wind soon bore his flower-wreathed junk out of sight.

 

Two days later, Liang was home in his and Chen's native village. At the earliest opportunity he asked a friend, "What news is there of my old friend Chen? All I know is that he is fabulously rich and has the most beautiful wife."

 

His friend stepped back and stared at him. "Chen? If you mean Chen, our schoolmate, you've made a mistake. He was secretary to a general, years ago. He was crossing Tung Ting Lake to spend his first vacation here at home, and a storm sank his junk. Chen drowned. They never even found his body. He's been dead for years.

 

Liang was too astonished to make any reply. Later he went to his room, opened his strong box and took out the pearl. It was real; it was there in his hand; it was the finest pearl he had ever seen.

 

Liang never found an explanation for his strange meeting with Chen. Nor did he ever sell the priceless pearl, which is still in the possession of his family. It passes from generation to generation, still holding its unfathomable secret.