The Paper Horse
Li dies far from home; his poor wife burns a paper horse, praying her husband may ride home. At night the horse stands and circles the house, hooves in wet mud. The night his clansman comes for the coffin, the horse neighs in welcome, then falls as the coffin leaves.
Li, a merchant, traveled far and died in a strange land at thirty-two. His wife, Wang, was poor and could not afford to bring his coffin home; she bought a paper horse and burned it in the courtyard, weeping: "Husband, if you come home, ride this horse."
That night the wind rose; the paper horse stood up inside the gate, its hoofbeats click-clacking, circling the house three times as if searching for someone. Wang opened the door to look; the horse had fallen, but its hooves still bore the wet mud of the courtyard. An old neighbor woman heard and sighed: "The wife misses her husband so, her soul has lodged in the paper, meaning to lead him home."
Ten days on, a clansman of Li came on hands and knees from a thousand miles away, saying he would fetch the coffin in a plain casket. That evening the paper horse stood again, circled the house once, and neighed toward the gate, its cry plaintive, as if glad to welcome. When the coffin was carried out, the horse fell and rose no more.
Wang buried the horse by her husband's grave, saying: "You travel far; now you have company."
The Chronicler of the Strange says: The paper horse has no sense; once burned it is ash. Yet the wife's single sincere thought made the dry thing seem to know human warmth, circling the house for its master. Where true feeling reaches, metal and stone open — how much more a sheet of paper? Today husbands and wives may share a bed in life and forget each other in death; set beside Wang's paper horse, can they not blush? The horse is but paper, yet its feeling is true; the man lives, yet his heart may be false. Who sees this may reflect on the bond of marriage.