“The Shen made a move as if to depart, but no sooner were they out of the shadows than they halted abruptly, murmuring in displeasure. And small wonder. The sun had dispelled the dew and there was no moisture upon the land. A water Shen cannot exist where there is no moisture. In that respect he is like the yin yu and the shih pan (fishes). So the Shen turned to Chieh Chung and said, ‘Is there water here, O King, where we may spend the day hours?’ ‘There is little,’ said Chieh Chung; ‘I dare say too little for your purpose. But in such quantity as it is, you are welcome.’ He pointed to a crystal bowl in which burgeoned a sacred lily. There was water in the bowl, water surrounding the lily bulb. Too, there were stones in the bowl—blue lapis lazuli, and green jade, and yellow topaz (precious stones, as befitted a palace garden), for that is the way sacred lilies are grown—in bowls filled with water and pretty pebbles. ‘You are quite welcome to it,’ reiterated the King. The Shen shook their heads half in despair. ‘It is too little,’ groaned they, ‘far too little.’ ‘But,’ said Chieh Chung, ‘you are demons—hence magicians. Why do you not make yourselves smaller? Why not change yourselves into red hung pao shih and recline in the bowl amid the lily roots? I am sure you would make handsome rubies. Beyond a doubt, my courtiers would say “Ah” and “How lovely” and admire you greatly when they saw you. Of a certainty, you would make resplendent gems, dazzling and superb.’ ‘Well,’ agreed the Shen, somewhat dubiously, ‘we shall try it. If you have no more water it is the only thing we can do.’ And so, in a twinkling the Shen were gone, and seven beautiful rubies appeared in the crystal bowl.
“ ‘How lovely,’ said Chieh Chung—and deliberately winked at the cypress tree, first with one eye and then with the other. He went to a cabinet that stood in his chamber, and from the cabinet took a bottle fashioned out of fei yu (a cloudy jade). And the bottle had a wide mouth. Into it Chieh Chung poured water. Returning to the lily bowl, he quickly took therefrom the seven red hung pao shih and dropped them into the jade bottle—closing the mouth securely.
“ ‘Now,’ exulted the King, ‘my city is saved. My people may walk in security and without fear. The seven water demons are in my keeping, and please Heaven may they never escape my hand.’ And in his joy, King Chieh Chung ordered that ten thousand catties of rice be given to the poor.
“Weeks lengthened into months. Lengthened the months to years. Still languished the water demons in the clouded jade bottle. Still broke the sea on Kua Hai’s walls—but did not enter. Chieh Chung added to his kingdom and ruled with beneficence. His name was heralded throughout the length of the world. Not by the spear, but by wisdom he added to his dominions. Peoples of far-distant regions came seeking to place themselves under the rule of Chieh Chung—wisest and best.
“At length came ambassadors from Wei Chou, yes, even from distant Kou Pei, offering to give their allegiance to Chieh Chung. Ah, but that was a great day, a day of all proud days. The ambassadors were a hundred for number, haughty mandarins all. There was a great stir about the palace, you may well believe, retainers rushing hither and thither to provide food and drink and entertainment for the foreign great men.
“A foolish servant, ransacking cupboard and closet for what victuals and drink he could find, came upon the dusty jade bottle that stood in Chieh Chung’s cabinet. ‘Ah,’ said the servant, trying to peer through the cloudy jade. ‘Beyond a doubt, here is something of rare excellence. This will do for the highest of the mandarins, for the red-button mandarins with peacock feathers. It rattles—rock candy in it.’ And the foolish one removed the stopper. A thousand pities he was not stricken dead before the seal was broken.
“Chieh Chung came into the chamber and saw what had happened. For a moment he was stunned. Then, ‘Let me have the bottle.’ The bottle was empty, all save for a bit of water. ‘They are gone,’ said the King. ‘The Shen have escaped. But even so, I may baffle them, for they promised with binding oaths not to take my kingdom until the pai shu blossoms. And—in this region the cypress tree never blossoms—it never comes into flower.’ The King smiled in spite of himself.
“Meanwhile, the water demons, having escaped from the bottle, hastened through the palace toward the garden. They were very angry—were those demons, gnashing their teeth with a noise like that of waves lashing a rock-guarded coast. They were determined on vengeance.
“The Wei Chou ambassadors were encamped in the palace garden. Their servants had been washing garments, brilliant-hued garments such as the wealthy and noble of that land wear. The garments had been hung on the cypress tree to dry. And there the garments hung when the water demons appeared. The tree was aflame with color. Instantly the Shen raised a great shout. ‘Come billow. Come ocean.’ They shouted in triumph. ‘The pai shu blossoms (the cypress tree blooms)’—for they thought the garments were flowers—‘and our promise is ended. Kua Hai is ours.’
“Fathoms deep, roaring, grinding, relentless, the sea swept over Kua Hai, buried the city, buried the plain. The water demons raced before it, calling it on. They who had been the people of Kua Hai rode upon white-crested billows—without life—drowned. Out of all the vast population perhaps a thousand escaped. And among those who escaped was the King.