A Traveler’s Perilous Journey in Warring States China

During the tumultuous Warring States period (475-221 BCE), when the land we now call China was divided among competing kingdoms, a man named Fei Ji from the Wu region found himself living as a long-term guest in the territory of Chu. This was an era when the once-mighty Zhou dynasty had fragmented, leaving seven major states vying for dominance through diplomacy and warfare. The Chu state, encompassing much of modern Hubei and Hunan provinces, was known for its distinct culture that blended Central Plains traditions with southern indigenous elements.

Fei Ji’s situation reflects the mobility of certain classes during this period – scholars, merchants, and officials often traveled between states seeking opportunity or fulfilling duties. However, the roads between cities and states were notoriously dangerous, plagued by bandits who preyed upon travelers. His wife back in Wu lived in constant anxiety about these threats, her worries emblematic of the familial strains caused by such prolonged separations in an age without rapid communication.

The Fateful Night at Mount Lu’s Foot

The story takes its supernatural turn when Fei Ji and his fellow travelers lodge at the base of Mount Lu, a location already steeped in mystical reputation. Known in ancient times as Nanzhang Mountain, this majestic peak rising 1,474 meters above the Yangtze River and Poyang Lake had multiple legendary origins. Some said it was named after the empty hut (lu) left behind by the reclusive philosopher Kuang Su during the Zhou dynasty, while others connected it to the Daoist sage Fang Fu who supposedly visited with Laozi.

As travelers often did during rest stops, the group began sharing stories of their journeys and how long they’d been away from home. Fei Ji revealed a poignant detail about his departure: “When I left home several years ago,” he confessed, “I asked my wife for her gold hairpin as a keepsake, really just to test whether she would part with it.” This seemingly simple act carried deep cultural significance – hairpins in ancient China were intimate possessions, often given as love tokens or wedding gifts. His admission that he’d left the pin on the door lintel (the heavy wooden beam above the entrance) without telling her suggests both forgetfulness and perhaps subconscious hesitation about taking such a meaningful object.

The Ghostly Message and Premature Mourning

That very night, Fei Ji’s wife experienced a visitation that would upend her life. In her dream, her husband appeared with terrible news: he had been killed by bandits two years prior. The spectral figure offered proof – the gold hairpin remained exactly where he’d left it on the door frame. Upon waking, she rushed to check and indeed found the pin precisely as described in the dream. Convinced of her husband’s death, the family proceeded to hold funeral rites, a solemn process in ancient China that involved specific mourning periods, ritual wailing, and ceremonial offerings to guide the deceased’s spirit.

This episode reflects widespread beliefs in dream visitations from the dead during the Six Dynasties period (220-589 CE), when Gan Bao compiled these accounts in “In Search of the Supernatural” (Soushen Ji). The collection served both as entertainment and as documentation of supernatural phenomena that many educated people of the time considered entirely real. The wife’s unquestioning acceptance of the dream’s veracity speaks to how thoroughly such beliefs permeated society.

The Unsettling Return and Cultural Implications

The story takes an ironic twist when, over a year after his supposed death, Fei Ji returns home alive. The narrative doesn’t reveal his reaction to discovering his own funeral had been held, but the implications are profound. His wife and family had grieved needlessly, their mourning rituals directed at an empty grave. This premature funeral would have carried social and possibly financial consequences, as mourning obligations in ancient China could last up to three years for a parent’s death.

Gan Bao’s commentary suggests this was no benevolent spirit but a mischievous ghost (“gui mei”) that overheard travelers’ conversations and took pleasure in deceiving the living. Unlike some helpful spirits in Chinese folklore that assist humans in achieving their goals, this entity seemed motivated by caprice rather than any discernible purpose. The story serves as a cautionary tale about the unpredictability of supernatural forces and the vulnerability of those separated from loved ones in an era without reliable long-distance communication.

Parallels in Another Supernatural Deception

The narrative finds an intriguing parallel in another story from Gan Bao’s collection involving a man named Yu Dingguo from Yuyao. Here, a supernatural entity assumes Yu’s handsome form to seduce a beautiful local girl, exploiting both the girl’s attraction to Yu’s upstanding reputation and her father’s desire for a prestigious son-in-law. When the real Yu learns of the impersonation, he reacts with moral outrage: “How could I possibly ask a father for permission to debauch his daughter?”

Both stories explore themes of identity, desire, and deception. The fake Yu Dingguo represents how supernatural forces might exploit human weaknesses – the girl’s physical attraction, her father’s social climbing aspirations, and even the real Yu’s unspoken admiration for the girl. As with Fei Ji’s story, the narrative suggests that spirits can manipulate situations where human emotions create vulnerabilities.

Beauty and Vulnerability in Ancient Society

The plight of the Yuyao beauty highlights the precarious position of attractive women in traditional Chinese society. Gan Bao’s commentary extends this observation to a broader critique: “Beautiful women in ancient times either became pawns in rulers’ stratagems… or suffered misfortune even remaining at home.” The text draws a throughline from ancient times to Gan Bao’s own era (and indeed to modern cases like the 2013 Iranian election incident mentioned) to argue that beauty itself isn’t cursed – rather, it’s others’ reactions to beauty that create danger.

This perspective offers rare social commentary within a supernatural tale, suggesting that the real “monsters” are often human systems and prejudices rather than actual ghosts or spirits. The fake Yu Dingguo merely acts out what others secretly desire but are constrained from pursuing by social norms.

Enduring Themes in Chinese Supernatural Literature

These interconnected tales from fourth-century China continue to resonate because they touch on universal human concerns – the anxiety of separation, the fragility of life on the road, the unreliability of communication across distances, and the ways supernatural beliefs help people process uncertainty. The Fei Ji story in particular plays with dramatic irony, as readers know the truth while the characters do not, creating pathos around the wife’s unnecessary grief.

Gan Bao’s collection overall demonstrates how early Chinese writers used the supernatural to explore psychological and social realities. The mistaken funeral reflects real fears in an era of dangerous travel, while the Yuyao case critiques how society treats beautiful women. Both stories ultimately suggest that whether dealing with ghosts or human nature, appearances often deceive, and truth proves more complex than first assumed – lessons as relevant today as in fourth-century China.