“Doubtless,” agreed Fa Fai, with a dark intent. She was standing by the door of the enclosure in the process of making her departure, and she regarded Wei Chang with a set deliberation. “Yet,” she continued definitely, “if this person possessed that which was essential to Wong Ts’in’s prosperity, and Wong Ts’in held that which was necessary for this one’s tranquillity, a locked bolt would be upon the one until the other was pledged in return.”
With these opportune words the maiden vanished, leaving Wei Chang prostrating himself in spirit before the many-sidedness of her wisdom.
Wong Ts’in was not altogether benevolently inclined towards the universe on his return a little later. The persistent image of Fang’s overthreatening act still corroded the merchant’s throat with bitterness, for on his right he saw the extinction of his business as unremunerative if he agreed, and on his left he saw the extinction of his business as undependable if he refused to agree.
Furthermore, the omens were ill-arranged.
On his way outwards he had encountered an aged man who possessed two fruit-trees, on which he relied for sustenance. As Wong Ts’in drew near, this venerable person carried from his dwelling two beaten cakes of dog-dung and began to bury them about the root of the larger tree. This action, on the part of one who might easily be a disguised wizard, aroused Wong Ts’in’s interest.
“Why,” he demanded, “having two cakes of dung and two fruit-trees, do you not allot one to each tree, so that both may benefit and return to you their produce in the time of your necessity?”
“The season promises to be one of rigour and great need,” replied the other. “A single cake of dung might not provide sufficient nourishment for either tree, so that both should wither away. By reducing life to a bare necessity I could pass from one harvest to another on the fruit of this tree alone, but if both should fail I am undone. To this end I safeguard my existence by ensuring that at least the better of the two shall thrive.”
“Peace attend your efforts!” said Wong Ts’in, and he began to retrace his footsteps, well content.
Yet he had not covered half the distance back when his progress was impeded by an elderly hag who fed two goats, whose milk alone preserved her from starvation. One small measure of dry grass was all that she was able to provide them with, but she divided it equally between them, to the discontent of both.
“The season promises to be one of rigour and great need,” remarked Wong Ts’in affably, for the being before him might well be a creature of another part who had assumed that form for his guidance. “Why do you not therefore ensure sustenance to the better of the two goats by devoting to it the whole of the measure of dry grass? In this way you would receive at least some nourishment in return and thereby safeguard your own existence until the rice is grown again.”