Which Lay A Carbuncle

–_Page 157_]

Then the king was alarmed and said: “What the fickle boy did was not to be endured, it is true. But still you were a little too rough with him; in future you must not do anything of the sort again.” And Tsian Tang promised not to.

That evening Liu I was feasted at the castle. Music and dancing lent charm to the banquet. A thousand warriors with banners and spears in their hands stood at attention. Trombones and trumpets resounded, and drums and kettledrums thundered and rattled as the warriors danced a war-dance. The music expressed how Tsian Tang had broken through the ranks of the enemy, and the hair of the guest who listened to it rose on his head in terror. Then, again, there was heard the music of strings, flutes and little golden bells. A thousand maidens in crimson and green silk danced around. The return of the princess was also told in tones. The music sounded like a song of sadness and plaining, and all who heard it were moved to tears. The King of the Sea of Dungting was filled with joy. He raised his goblet and drank to the health of his guest, and all sorrow departed from them. Both rulers thanked Liu I in verses, and Liu I answered them in a rimed toast. The crowd of courtiers in the palace-hall applauded. Then the King of the Sea of Dungting drew forth a blue cloud-casket in which was the horn of a rhinoceros, which divides the water. Tsian Tang brought out a platter of red amber on which lay a carbuncle. These they presented to their guest, and the other inmates of the palace also heaped up embroideries, brocades and pearls by his side. Surrounded by shimmer and light Liu I sat there, smiling, and bowed his thanks to all sides. When the banquet was ended he slept in the Palace of Frozen Radiance.

On the following day another banquet was held. Tsian Tang, who was not quite himself, sat carelessly on his seat and said: “The Princess of the Dungting Sea is handsome and delicately fashioned. She has had the misfortune to be disowned by her husband, and to-day her marriage is annulled. I should like to find another husband for her. If you were agreeable it would be to your advantage. But if you were not willing to marry her, you may go your way, and should we ever meet again we will not know each other.”

Liu I was angered by the careless way in which Tsian Tang spoke to him. The blood rose to his head and he replied: “I served as a messenger, because I felt sorry for the princess, but not in order to gain an advantage for myself. To kill a husband and carry off a wife is something an honest man does not do. And since I am only an ordinary man, I prefer to die rather than do as you say.”

Tsian Tang rose, apologized and said: “My words were over-hasty. I hope you will not take them ill!” And the King of the Dungting Sea also spoke kindly to him, and censured Tsian Tang because of his rude speech. So there was no more said about marriage.

On the following day Liu I took his leave, and the Queen of the Dungting Sea gave a farewell banquet in his honor.

With tears the queen said to Liu I: “My daughter owes you a great debt of gratitude, and we have not had an opportunity to make it up to you. Now you are going away and we see you go with heavy hearts!”

Then she ordered the princess to thank Liu I.

The princess stood there, blushing, bowed to him and said: “We will probably never see each other again!” Then tears choked her voice.

It is true that Liu I had resisted the stormy urging of her uncle, but when he saw the princess standing before him in all the charm of her loveliness, he felt sad at heart; yet he controlled himself and went his way. The treasures which he took with him were incalculable. The king and his brother themselves escorted him as far as the river.

When, on his return home, he sold no more than a hundredth part of what he had received, his fortune already ran into the millions, and he was wealthier than all his neighbors. He decided to take a wife, and heard of a widow who lived in the North with her daughter. Her father had become a Taoist in his later years and had vanished in the clouds without ever returning. The mother lived in poverty with the daughter; yet since the girl was beautiful beyond measure she was seeking a distinguished husband for her.

Liu I was content to take her, and the day of the wedding was set. And when he saw his bride unveiled on the evening of her wedding day, she looked just like the dragon-princess. He asked her about it, but she merely smiled and said nothing.

After a time heaven sent them a son. Then she told her husband: “To-day I will confess to you that I am truly the Princess of Dungting Sea. When you had rejected my uncle’s proposal and gone away, I fell ill of longing, and was near death. My parents wanted to send for you, but they feared you might take exception to my family. And so it was that I married you disguised as a human maiden. I had not ventured to tell you until now, but since heaven has sent us a son, I hope that you will love his mother as well.”

Then Liu I awoke as though from a deep sleep, and from that time on both were very fond of each other.

One day his wife said: “If you wish to stay with me eternally, then we cannot continue to dwell in the world of men. We dragons live ten thousand years, and you shall share our longevity. Come back with me to the Sea of Dungting!”

Ten years passed and no one knew where Liu I, who had disappeared, might be. Then, by accident, a relative went sailing across the Sea of Dungting. Suddenly a blue mountain rose up out of the water.

The seamen cried in alarm: “There is no mountain on this spot! It must be a water-demon!”

While they were still pointing to it and talking, the mountain drew near the ship, and a gaily-colored boat slid from its summit into the water. A man sat in the middle, and fairies stood at either side of him. The man was Liu I. He beckoned to his cousin, and the latter drew up his garments and stepped into the boat with him. But when he had entered the boat it turned into a mountain. On the mountain stood a splendid castle, and in the castle stood Liu I, surrounded with radiance, and with the music of stringed instruments floating about him.

They greeted each other, and Liu I said to his cousin: “We have been parted no more than a moment, and your hair is already gray!”

His cousin answered: “You are a god and blessed: I have only a mortal body. Thus fate has decreed.”

Then Liu I gave him fifty pills and said: “Each pill will extend your life for the space of a year. When you have lived the tale of these years, come to me and dwell no longer in the earthly world of dust, where there is nothing but toil and trouble.”

Then he took him back across the sea and disappeared.

His cousin, however, retired from the world, and fifty years later, and when he had taken all the pills, he disappeared and was never seen again.

Note: The outcast princess is represented as “herding sheep.” In Chinese the word sheep is often used as an image for clouds. (Sheep and goats are designated by the same word in Chinese.) Tsian Tang is the name of a place used for the name of the god of that place. The deluge is the flood which the great Yu regulated as minister of the Emperor Yau. It is here represented in an exaggerated sense, as a deluge.

Moral

A magical jewel tests mortals’ virtue and desire. The protagonist learns that true worth lies in wisdom and restraint, not possession of treasure.

Historical & Cultural Context

Chinese folk tales carry thousands of years of Confucian, Daoist and Buddhist moral thought, featuring dragons, immortals, filial sons, clever scholars and mountain-dwelling sages whose stories spread along the Silk Road and into East Asia.

Jewel-quest tales appear throughout Asian folklore, drawing from Buddhist teachings on maya (illusion) and the danger of attachment. The carbuncle (a mythical glowing stone) represents both blessing and curse – it grants power yet enslaves those who lust for it. This narrative echoes Liaozhai tales of magical objects that reveal character and trap the greedy. It reflects Buddhist warnings against clinging to worldly goods and Daoist teachings on detachment. The protagonist’s struggle with desire mirrors spiritual practice itself – the test of whether one can hold power without being consumed by it. Such stories taught that magical treasure, like all worldly gain, brings suffering unless balanced by wisdom.

Reflection & Discussion

1. What power does the carbuncle grant?
2. Why does possessing it lead to danger?
3. How does wisdom protect mortals from magical temptation?

Did You Know?

• Chinese folk tales date back over 4,000 years, making them among the oldest storytelling traditions in the world.
• Dragons in Chinese folklore are benevolent creatures associated with wisdom, power, and good fortune.
• The Chinese Zodiac, featuring twelve animals, originated from ancient folk tales about a great race organized by the Jade Emperor.

What This Tale Teaches Us Today

Old stories keep their power because their lessons never stop being useful. Here is how this one still applies:

• Folk tales teach ethics without lecturing. A good story can reshape a mind more powerfully than any rule.
• Shared stories are one of the strongest bonds within any community – families, cultures, or whole nations.
• Traditional stories remind us that wisdom belongs to many cultures. No single tradition holds all the answers.

Why This Story Still Matters

Which Lay A Carbuncle joins a vast global library of folk tales that human beings have been telling one another for thousands of years. Every culture has produced its own stories, but the deepest themes – courage, kindness, cleverness, loyalty, the cost of greed – appear again and again in different clothes. Modern readers who spend time with folk tales inherit something precious: a sense that people have always wrestled with the same basic questions, and that good stories can still help us find good answers. That is why these tales persist. Each one is a small tool for living, handed down quietly through generations.

Cultural Context and Continuing Influence

Folk tales like this one survived for hundreds of years through oral storytelling before any scholar thought to write them down. Grandparents told them to grandchildren, travelers traded them along roads and rivers, and mothers repeated them to babies who would one day repeat them to their own children. Each small retelling sharpened the story, discarded unnecessary parts, and polished the essential lesson. That long process of refinement is why a good folk tale feels so weighty – it has been shaped by thousands of listeners across generations, each contributing something small to the story we read today.

Modern readers sometimes wonder whether folk tales are still relevant in an age of apps and smartphones. The answer is yes, perhaps more than ever. The technology changes, but the underlying questions – about kindness, courage, loyalty, greed, family, fear, love – do not. These are the same questions that children asked around a fire in ancient India, around a hearth in medieval Ireland, around a campfire in 19th-century Korea. And they are the same questions children ask their parents today, just phrased differently. That is why a family that reads folk tales together is doing real cultural and emotional work, not simply entertaining itself.