The Flower-Elves

There was once a scholar who withdrew from the world to seek hidden wisdom. He lived alone in a secret spot, in a little house he had surrounded with every kind of flower, with bamboos and other trees, so that it lay completely hidden in a thick grove of blossoms. His only companion was a boy servant who lived in a separate hut, carried out his orders, and came before his master only when called. The scholar loved his flowers as much as himself and never set foot outside his garden.

One lovely spring evening, when the flowers and trees were in full bloom, a fresh breeze was blowing, and the moon shone bright, the scholar sat with his wine cup, thankful to be alive. Suddenly a girl in dark clothes came stepping lightly through the moonlight. She curtsied deeply and said, “I am your neighbor. A group of us girls are on our way to visit the eighteen aunts. May we rest in your courtyard for a while?”

The scholar could tell this was something out of the ordinary, and he gladly agreed. She thanked him and left, and soon she came back with a whole crowd of girls carrying flowers and willow branches. They greeted the scholar. All of them were charming, with delicate faces and slim, graceful figures, and when they moved their sleeves they gave off a scent sweeter than any fragrance known in the human world.

The scholar invited them to sit in his room for a while. “Whom do I have the honor of welcoming?” he asked. “Have you come from the castle of the Lady in the Moon, or from the Jade Spring of the Queen-Mother of the West?”

“How could we claim such noble birth?” smiled a girl in a green gown. “My name is Salix.” Then she introduced the others: one in white, “This is Mistress Prunophora”; one in pink, “This is Persica”; and one in a dark-red gown, “And this is Punica. We are all sisters, and we mean to call on the eighteen zephyr-aunts tonight. The moon is so lovely and your garden so delightful—thank you for being so kind to us.”

“Yes, yes,” said the scholar.

Just then the soberly dressed servant announced, “The zephyr-aunts are here!” The girls jumped up and went to the door to meet them. “We were just on our way to see you, aunts,” they said, smiling. “This gentleman asked us to sit down for a moment. How lucky that you have come here too! On such a beautiful night we must drink a cup of nectar in your honor.” They told the servant to bring what was needed.

“Is it all right to sit here?” asked the aunts.

“The master of the house is very kind,” the girls replied, “and the place is quiet and hidden.” Then they introduced the aunts to the scholar, who said a few friendly words to them. The eighteen aunts had a flighty, careless air. Their words came rushing out, and near them one felt an icy chill.

The servant set out a table and chairs. The aunts sat at the head, the girls next, and the scholar took the lowest seat. Soon the table was covered with the most delicious dishes and splendid fruits, and the cups were filled with fragrant nectar, delights unknown in the world of men. The moon shone brightly and the flowers breathed out a heady perfume. After eating and drinking, the girls rose to sing and dance. Their song rang sweetly through the dusk, and their dance was like butterflies flitting among the flowers. The scholar was so carried away that he could not tell whether he was in heaven or on earth.

When the dancing was over, the girls sat down and toasted the aunts with flowing nectar. They toasted the scholar too, and he answered with graceful words. But the eighteen aunts were careless. As one of them raised her cup, she accidentally spilled nectar on Punica’s dress. Punica, who was young, hot-tempered, and very tidy, jumped up angrily when she saw the stain on her red dress.

“You are terribly careless!” she snapped. “My sisters may be afraid of you, but I am not!”

The aunts grew angry too. “How dare this young chit insult us like that!” they said, and they gathered up their robes and stood. The girls crowded around them. “Punica is so young and inexperienced! Please don’t hold it against her. Tomorrow she will come to you with a switch in her hand to take her punishment!” But the aunts would not listen and swept off. Then the girls said goodbye, scattered among the flowerbeds, and vanished. The scholar sat for a long time, lost in dreamy longing.

The next evening all the girls came back. “We live in your garden,” they told him. “Every year naughty winds torment us, so we have always asked the eighteen aunts to protect us. But yesterday Punica insulted them, and now we fear they will not help us anymore. We know you have always been kind to us, and we are truly grateful. Now we have a great favor to ask. Every New Year’s Day, please make a small scarlet flag, paint the sun, the moon, and the five planets on it, and set it up in the eastern part of the garden. Then we sisters will be left in peace and kept from harm. New Year’s Day is past for this year, so we beg you to set up the flag on the twenty-first of this month. The East Wind is coming, and the flag will shield us from him!”

The scholar willingly promised, and the girls said all together, “Thank you for your great kindness. We will repay it!” Then they left, and a sweet scent filled the whole garden.

The scholar made the red flag just as they had described. Early on the morning of the twenty-first, when the East Wind really did begin to blow, he hurried to set it up in the garden. Suddenly a wild storm broke loose that bent the forests and snapped trees, yet in his garden not a single flower moved.

Then the scholar understood. Salix was the willow, Prunophora the plum, Persica the peach, and saucy Punica the pomegranate, whose blossoms the tale describes as resisting the wind. And the eighteen zephyr-aunts were the spirits of the winds.

That evening the flower-elves all came and brought him glowing flowers as a thank-you gift. “You saved us,” they said, “and we have nothing else to give you. If you eat these flowers, you will live long and escape old age. And if you protect us every year, then we sisters will live long too.”

The scholar did as they said and ate the flowers. His body changed, and he became young again, like a youth of twenty. In time he gained the hidden wisdom and was counted among the Immortals.

About this story

“The Flower-Elves” opens the section of nature and animal tales in Richard Wilhelm’s The Chinese Fairy Book, translated into English by Frederick H. Martens (New York: Frederick A. Stokes, 1921). In his preface Martens names it among the book’s “exquisitely poetic” stories.

Wilhelm’s note explains a word game that is lost in English. In Chinese, the elves’ names are family names whose sounds suggest the flowers without naming them exactly, so the translation uses the Latin plant names Salix, Prunophora, Persica, and Punica instead. The aunts’ name, Fong, can also mean “wind.”

Read the original: Wilhelm’s Chinese Fairy Book, Martens’s English version, Project Gutenberg

Best for ages 9–12 with discussion: a lyrical garden mystery with a threat of beating and a quarrel between dependents and their powerful protectors. The rejuvenating flowers and storm flag are magic, not gardening or food advice.

Reading the story closely

The revelation is prepared through sensory clues: the girls carry fragrance and plant colors, while the aunts bring rushing speech and cold air. The banquet therefore works both as a social scene and as weather moving through a garden. The quarrel is unequal: an aunt spills the drink, yet the other girls offer Punica for punishment because they fear losing protection.

Make a clue key for the four named guests and the aunts, using descriptions given before their identities are revealed. Then compare the aunts’ conditional protection with the scholar’s response to the request. He acts before receiving a reward, and the final promise of yearly care makes their relationship ongoing.

Questions to ask

• Before the storm, what clues hint at who the girls and the aunts really are?
• Why were the girls so worried after Punica lost her temper?
• How does the scholar’s kindness to his garden come back to him at the end?

Related stories

• Rose of Evening — another poetic Wilhelm tale with spirit dancers
• The Herd Boy and the Weaving Maiden — another of the book’s most poetic stories
• The Eight Immortals (I) — others who gained the hidden wisdom and joined the Immortals