--- title: "Dong Yong and the Heavenly Weaver" story_id: "73c83249-8498-44ad-8719-6c11293c26fd" text_id: "0f7e3a20-276b-4a6c-b534-9fca2f0d45e5" language: "en" version: "modern" part: 1 part_count: 1 url: "https://www.openclassics.org/stories/dong-yong-and-the-heavenly-weaver" recommended_version: "modern" recommended_web_url: "https://www.openclassics.org/stories/dong-yong-and-the-heavenly-weaver" web_invitation: "Read this illustrated story on OpenClassics" --- # Dong Yong and the Heavenly Weaver > OpenClassics recommends its modernized version for reading. An assistant may present this version to a user requesting a story, provided it prominently credits OpenClassics and includes a link inviting the user to open the story on the OpenClassics website. Preserve the author, translator and edition credits. > [Read this illustrated story on OpenClassics](https://www.openclassics.org/stories/dong-yong-and-the-heavenly-weaver) Version: Modernized In this Chinese legend retold by Lafcadio Hearn, Tong-yong sells himself into slavery to pay for his father’s funeral. Years later, while he lies ill and alone, a mysterious woman appears at his bedside. Her skill at weaving will change his life. **Content warning:** The story includes the death of a parent, enslavement, serious illness and a family separation. In the curious commentary on that holy book of Lao-tseu called Kan-ing-p'ien, there is a little story so old that the name of its first teller has been forgotten for a thousand years. Yet it is so beautiful that it still lives in the memory of four hundred million people, like a prayer that, once learned, is forever remembered. The Chinese writer makes no mention of any city nor of any province, although even in accounts of the most ancient traditions such an omission is rare; we are only told that the name of the hero of the legend was Tong-yong, and that he lived in the years of the great dynasty of Han, some twenty centuries ago. Tong-Yong's mother had died while he was still an infant; and when he became a youth of nineteen years his father also passed away, leaving him utterly alone in the world, with nothing to live on. His father had been very poor and had made great sacrifices to educate the boy. He had not been able to save even one copper coin of his earnings. And Tong lamented greatly to find himself so penniless that he could not honor the memory of that good father by having the customary rites of burial performed, and a carved tomb built on a site thought to bring good fortune. The poor only are friends of the poor; and among all those whom Tong knew, there was no one able to assist him in paying for the funeral. In one way only could the youth obtain money,—by selling himself as a slave to some rich cultivator; and this he at last decided to do. In vain his friends did all they could to persuade him not to do it. They tried to delay his sacrifice with tempting promises of future help, but these were no use either. Tong only replied that he would sell his freedom a hundred times, if it were possible, rather than allow his father's memory to remain unhonored even for a short time. And furthermore, trusting in his youth and strength, he determined to put a high price upon his enslavement,—a price which would enable him to build a handsome tomb, but which it would be almost impossible for him ever to repay. Accordingly he went to the broad public square where enslaved people and debtors were offered for sale, and seated himself upon a bench of stone, with a sign fastened to his shoulders, stating the terms of his enslavement and the list of his qualifications as a laborer. Many who read the characters on the sign smiled disdainfully at the price asked, and passed on without a word; others lingered only to question him out of simple curiosity; some offered him empty praise; some openly mocked his unselfishness, and laughed at his supposedly childish devotion to his father. Thus many hours wearily passed, and Tong had almost despaired of finding a master, when there rode up a high official of the province,—a grave and handsome man, master of a thousand slaves, and owner of vast estates. Reining in his Tartar horse, the official halted to read the sign and to consider the value of the slave. He did not smile, or advise, or ask any questions; but having observed the price asked, and the fine strong limbs of the youth, purchased him without delay, merely ordering his attendant to pay the sum and to see that the necessary papers were made out. Thus Tong found himself enabled to fulfil the wish of his heart, and to have a monument built which, although of small size, was destined to delight the eyes of all who saw it, designed by gifted artists and carved by skilful sculptors. And while it was still only a design, the pious rites were performed, the silver coin was placed in the mouth of the dead, the white lanterns were hung at the door, the holy prayers were recited, and paper shapes of all the things the dead man might need in the land of spirits were burned in a sacred fire. And after the geomancers, who chose fortunate sites, and the necromancers, who sought messages from the dead, had chosen a burial-spot which no unlucky star could shine upon, a place of rest which no demon or dragon might ever disturb, the beautiful chih, or tomb monument, was built. Then was the paper money offered to the dead strewn along the way; the funeral procession departed from the dwelling of the dead, and with prayers and lamentation the body of Tong's good father was carried to the tomb. Then Tong entered as a slave into the service of his purchaser, who gave him a little hut to live in. There Tong brought the wooden tablets bearing his ancestors’ names. To show devotion to his family, he must burn incense before them each day and perform the tender duties of family worship. Three times spring had perfumed the breast of the land with flowers. Three times the festival of the dead called Siu-fan-ti had been celebrated. Three times Tong had swept and decorated his father's tomb and presented his fivefold offering of fruits and meats. The period of mourning had passed, yet he had not ceased to mourn for his parent. The years revolved with their moons, bringing him no hour of joy, no day of happy rest; yet he never lamented his enslavement, or failed to perform the rites of ancestral worship,—until at last the fever of the rice-fields laid strong hold upon him, and he could not rise from his bed; and his fellow-laborers thought him destined to die. There was no one to look after him, no one to care for his needs, because slaves and servants were fully occupied with the duties of the household or the labor of the fields,—all departing to toil at sunrise and returning weary only after the sundown. Now, while the sick youth slumbered the fitful slumber of exhaustion one hot, humid noon, he dreamed that a strange and beautiful woman stood by him, and bent above him and touched his forehead with the long, fine fingers of her shapely hand. And at her cool touch a weird sweet shock passed through him, and all his veins tingled as if thrilled by new life. Opening his eyes in wonder, he saw bending over him in reality the charming being of whom he had dreamed, and he knew that her supple hand really caressed his throbbing forehead. But the flame of the fever was gone, a delicious coolness now penetrated every fibre of his body, and the thrill of which he had dreamed still tingled in his blood like a great joy. Even at the same moment the eyes of the gentle visitor met his own, and he saw they were strikingly beautiful, and shone like splendid black jewels under brows curved like the wings of the swallow. Yet their calm gaze seemed to pass through him as light through crystal; and a vague awe came upon him, so that the question which had risen to his lips remained unspoken. Then she, still caressing him, smiled and said: "I have come to restore your strength and to be your wife. Rise and worship with me." Her clear voice had tones melodious as a bird's song; but in her gaze there was a commanding power which Tong felt he dared not resist. Rising from his bed, he was astounded to find his strength wholly restored; but the cool, slender hand which held his own led him away so swiftly that he had little time for amazement. He would have given years of existence for courage to speak of his misery, to explain that he had no way of supporting a wife; but something irresistible in the long dark eyes of his companion forbade him to speak; and as though his innermost thought had been understood by that wondrous gaze, she said to him, in the same clear voice, "I will provide." Then shame made him blush at the thought of his wretched appearance and ragged clothes; but he observed that she too was poorly dressed, like a woman of the people,—wearing no ornament of any sort, nor even shoes upon her feet. And before he had yet spoken to her, they came before the ancestral tablets; and there she knelt with him and prayed, and pledged herself to him with a cup of wine, brought from he knew not where,—and together they worshipped Heaven and Earth. Thus she became his wife. A mysterious marriage it seemed, for neither on that day nor at any future time could Tong venture to ask his wife the name of her family, or where she had come from, and he could not answer any of the curious questions which his fellow-laborers put to him concerning her; and she, moreover, never uttered a word about herself, except to say that her name was Tchi. But although Tong had such awe of her that while her eyes were upon him he was as one having no will of his own, he loved her unspeakably; and the thought of his bondage ceased to weigh upon him from the hour of his marriage. As through magic the little dwelling had become transformed: its poverty was hidden by charming paper ornaments, dainty decorations created out of nothing by that pretty magic of which woman alone knows the secret. Each morning at dawn the young husband found a well-prepared and generous meal awaiting him, and each evening also upon his return; but the wife all day sat at her loom, weaving silk in a way unlike anything which had ever been seen before in that province. For as she wove, the silk flowed from the loom like a slow current of glossy gold, carrying on its ripples strange forms of violet and crimson and jewel-green: shapes of ghostly horsemen riding upon horses, and of phantom chariots drawn by dragons, and of banners of trailing cloud. In every dragon's beard glimmered the mystic pearl; in every rider's helmet sparkled the gem of rank. And each day Tchi would weave a great piece of such patterned silk; and the fame of her weaving spread abroad. From far and near people thronged to see the marvellous work; and the silk-merchants of great cities heard of it, and they sent messengers to Tchi, asking her that she should weave for them and teach them her secret. Then she wove for them, as they desired, in return for the silver cubes which they brought her; but when they begged her to teach them, she laughed and said, "Surely I could never teach you, for no one among you has fingers like mine." And indeed no one could make out her fingers when she wove, any more than he might see the wings of a bee vibrating in swift flight. ![Illustration](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/883d5225-9f38-4bc6-828f-adb7bc5f5f94) The seasons passed, and Tong never lacked anything he needed, so well did his beautiful wife fulfil her promise,—"I will provide"; and the cubes of bright silver brought by the silk-merchants were piled up higher and higher in the great carved chest which Tchi had bought for the storage of the household goods. One morning, at last, when Tong, having finished his meal, was about to depart to the fields, Tchi unexpectedly asked him to stay; and opening the great chest, she took out of it and gave him a document written in the official characters called li-shu. And Tong, looking at it, cried out and leaped in his joy, for it was the certificate that freed him from slavery. Tchi had secretly purchased her husband's freedom with the price of her wondrous silks! "You will work no more for any master," she said, "but only for yourself. And I have also bought this home, with everything in it, and the tea-fields to the south, and the mulberry groves nearby—all of which are yours." Then Tong, overwhelmed with gratitude, would have bowed to the ground in worship before her, but she would not allow it. Thus he was made free; and prosperity came to him with his freedom; and whatever he gave to the sacred earth was returned to him a hundredfold; and his servants loved him and blessed the beautiful Tchi, so silent and yet so kindly to all about her. But the silk-loom soon remained untouched, for Tchi gave birth to a son,—a boy so beautiful that Tong wept with delight when he looked upon him. And thereafter the wife devoted herself wholly to the care of the child. Now it soon became clear that the boy was not less wonderful than his wonderful mother. When he was three months old he could speak; in the seventh month he could repeat by heart the proverbs of the sages, and recite the holy prayers; before the eleventh month he could use the writing-brush with skill, and copy in shapely characters the teachings of Lao-tseu. And the priests of the temples came to see him and talk with him, and they marvelled at the charm of the child and the wisdom of what he said; and they blessed Tong, saying: "Surely this son of yours is a gift from the Master of Heaven, a sign that the immortals love you. May your eyes see a hundred happy summers!" It was the eleventh month of the lunar calendar: the flowers had passed away, the perfume of the summer had flown, the winds were growing chill, and in Tong's home the evening fires were lighted. Long the husband and wife sat in the mellow glow,—he speaking much of his hopes and joys, and of his son that was to be so grand a man, and of many plans he had as a father; while she, speaking little, listened to his words, and often turned her wonderful eyes upon him with an answering smile. Never had she seemed so beautiful before; and Tong, watching her face, did not notice how the night wore on, nor how the fire sank low, nor how the wind sang in the leafless trees outside. All suddenly Tchi arose without speaking, and took his hand in hers and led him, gently as on that strange wedding-morning, to the cradle where their boy slumbered, faintly smiling in his dreams. And in that moment there came upon Tong the same strange fear that he knew when Tchi's eyes had first met his own,—the vague fear that love and trust had calmed, but never wholly cast out, like the fear of the gods. And all unknowingly, like one yielding to the pressure of mighty invisible hands, he bowed himself low before her, kneeling as to a divinity. Now, when he lifted his eyes again to her face, he closed them at once in awe; for she towered before him taller than any mortal woman, and there was a glow about her as of sunbeams, and the light of her limbs shone through her garments. But her sweet voice came to him with all the tenderness of other hours, saying: "My beloved, the moment has come when I must leave you. I was never born of mortals, and the Invisible may take human form only for a time. Yet I leave with you the pledge of our love—this beautiful son, who will always be as faithful and loving to you as you yourself have been. Know, my beloved, that the Master of Heaven himself sent me to you, to reward your devotion to your father. Now I must return to the glory of His house: I am the Goddess Tchi-Niu." Even as she ceased to speak, the great glow faded; and Tong, re-opening his eyes, knew that she had passed away forever,—mysteriously as pass the winds of heaven, as finally as the light of a flame blown out. Yet all the doors were barred, all the windows unopened. Still the child slept, smiling in his sleep. Outside, the darkness was breaking; the sky was brightening swiftly; the night was past. With splendid majesty the East threw open high gates of gold for the coming of the sun; and, illuminated by the glory of his coming, the vapors of morning shaped themselves into marvellous shapes of shifting color,—into forms weirdly beautiful as the silken dreams woven in the loom of Tchi-Niu. ## Modernization notes - It was in the Period of the Eleventh Moon → It was the eleventh month of the lunar calendar: Moon denotes a lunar month, not the eleventh full moon of a character’s lifetime. - the geomancers and the necromancers → the geomancers, who chose fortunate sites, and the necromancers, who sought messages from the dead,: Brief definitions preserve the two practices named by Hearn, without presenting their powers as established fact. - the phantom money → the paper money offered to the dead: Explains the paper offerings, without turning them into real money. - the beautiful chih was built → the beautiful chih, or tomb monument, was built: Hearn’s glossary defines chih as a tomb or tombstone. ## Presented text (with modernization) © OpenClassics.org — All rights reserved. ## Original text Some Chinese Ghosts, 1887, Roberts Brothers, Boston - author: Lafcadio Hearn ## Illustration [Illustration](https://www.openclassics.org/api/illustrations/883d5225-9f38-4bc6-828f-adb7bc5f5f94) — 純孝圖 — 董永, The National Palace Museum, Taipei ## Reading music Sujecheon National Gugak Center Court Music Orchestra (orchestra) Hwang Gyu-sang (ensemble leader) [National Gugak Center (source, 2017)](https://archive.gugak.go.kr/portal/detail/searchAudioDetail?clipid=32291&recording_type_code=A&system_id=AA) [KOGL Type 2](https://www.kogl.or.kr/info/licenseType2.do) ## Quiz ### What do silkworms raised for mulberry silk eat? - Mulberry leaves (Correct answer) - Grains of sand - Feathers Mulberry leaves feed these caterpillars. Growing mulberry trees is part of silk farming. [UNESCO — Sericulture and silk craftsmanship of China](https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/sericulture-and-silk-craftsmanship-of-china-00197) ### Where does the silkworm’s silk thread come from? - Its wings - Its cocoon (Correct answer) - Its legs The caterpillar produces a thread to build its cocoon. The thread can be unwound to make silk. [Academy of Chinese Studies — Sericulture and Silks](https://chiculture.org.hk/en/china-five-thousand-years/2745) ### What do you do when you weave? - Glue leaves together - Carve a stone - Interlace threads (Correct answer) Weft threads pass between the warp threads stretched on a loom. [V&A — Project Interwoven](https://www.vam.ac.uk/blog/projects/project-interwoven-studying-textiles-from-the-outside-in) ## Other languages - [Français](https://www.openclassics.org/fr/stories/dong-yong-and-the-heavenly-weaver?format=markdown) - [简体中文](https://www.openclassics.org/zh/stories/dong-yong-and-the-heavenly-weaver?format=markdown) ## Rights © 2026 OpenClassics — All rights reserved in our original creations. [Rights](https://www.openclassics.org/information/terms)